The end of Photography has arrived. Folks, I didn't think I was going to make it out alive. My feet killed me from standing in the dark room for eight hours (or more) at a time in order to print my pictures. I hated most of them. I had to drop extra cash for more paper on which to print my pictures. I was generally frustrated.
And then, last night at about 1:00 am, I finished. I mounted all my pictures on mat board (with precision, might I add), and I set all twelve of them up on the chalk tray to get a good look. And I was happy. I was actually pleased.
Then came the critique in class today. And guess what. The professor was pleased, too! I was quite proud, until after class. That's when I about had a heart attack. You know, in a good way. (If that's not contradictory, I don't know what is.) Proud isn't the word to describe how I felt after the professor used the word amazing to describe me and my photos. And then he suggested that if I got bored with my English and Spanish education studies, I should look into photography. I couldn't believe it.
And to think I was considering dropping the class after the third day.