It had been a lifetime ago since I went to art school and took an Art Theory test, and this was no exception: it seemed that in the two decades I was... away... midterms didn't really change that much.
That was the reason for my confidence as I sat in the classroom, waiting for the test to begin. There were some things that I had forgotten, but it's just a simple matter of making proper connections between concepts and artists, and I'm back in the saddle, so to speak.
When the paper finally got to my hands, there was a line crossed. This wasn't a test I would do well in – this was a test I would ace with no problems whatsoever. I scanned the questions carefully before the test began, and took a deep breath to center myself.
Still, there was that little voice in the back of my head telling me to expect the unexpected.
Yeah, yeah. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt and all, but it wouldn't hurt to just do the test; I mean, the only way out is through.
When the professor started the test, I was already answering questions.
The first question was a doozy. It asked about the connection between color and emotion in the works of impressionist painters, and required me to cite specific examples to support my argument. I took a moment to gather my thoughts before getting right into the nitty and gritty of my answer.
I started my answer with how van Gogh used warm colors like red and orange to convey emotions like passion and energy, and onto how Monet used blue and green to evoke calm and serenity.
Another fat pitch of a question came afterwards, and it was about the definition of art. I took the page from a fictional art critic, teacher and spy, and said that 'art' is one of those things you instantly recognize when you see it, and that categorizing the meaning of 'art', more often than not, is used to justify those who cannot or will not create under the limitations given by humanity's sense of aesthetics.
As I wrote, the words flowed from my pen with ease. I felt like I was in a state of flow, completely immersed in the task at hand. I was in my element, discussing the nuances of art theory and the techniques used by some of the most famous painters in history.
And when I turned to the back page, that was where everything started to go wrong.
The first question there was about the influence of technology on contemporary art.
This was a point where I felt truly at a loss. I thought of a possible answer, and then I recalled how, at the close of the 20th century, there was a thing called 'the internet' starting to become popular. With that concept in mind, I wrote down something about how it could help make art more accessible to people.
From there, a lot of the questions were about movements that I wasn't around to understand.
The test was about to end as I had meandered a bit on the questions I knew, so I had to resort to a time-honored student tradition: throw stuff at the wall, see what sticks.
Five minutes were spent frantically writing possible answers that I didn't know would work or not.
Thankfully, I was able to sufficiently wing it, and hand in the paper with time to spare.
I liked my chances of passing, what with the detail I put into those questions about color and the nature of art and the steady shift from realism to impressionism, but the other questions were shots in the dark.
It's not what I was truly capable of, given that I was blindsided – no, I am still blindsided by being placed two decades into the future – that I have to spend some time getting myself used to this time.
Well, I hope I put a good enough showing that Tessa won't freak out.
***
As it turns out, she did freak out a little, because I ended up with a grade that was more than what she expected.
I did end up spending my weekend trying to get myself used to my new circumstances, first of which was that black thing Tessa said was my 'smart phone'.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Nifty little gadget, that. Spent a good portion of the weekend seeing what it could do, and what the original Kain Park had done with it... if I wasn't cleaning up his suite... which is mine now.
Finders-keepers, Mr. Park.
And now, I'm about to have lunch with Tessa, all the while talking about the art theory midterm.
Most of it's about the talk the professor gave me after giving back my midterm paper, and I remember what that little meeting was about...
***
"Mr. Park, do you understand the kind of trouble you put me through?"
"No, sir... not specifically."
The balding man just sighed.
"Someone from the DEI department read your preliminary and midterm art theory papers and lodged a complaint."
That got my eyes widening, as I didn't know what the DEI department was, or what was in those exams was worth complaining about.
"What kind of complaint, Mr. Han?"
Professor Clarence Han sighed once more.
"You dodged a bullet this time, Mr. Park... because I know where you got that answer from, and because I know you weren't being malicious with your answer. First chapter of the Eiger Sanction, am I correct?"
Wait, how did Professor Han know my favorite book... no, I shouldn't be surprised, it's my favorite answer to go to whenever someone tells me that the definition of 'art' should be expanded.
Must have been that question.
I take a moment to think further. Preliminary and midterms? So Kain Park and I both quoted the same passage from the same book by the same author?
Hmm, how serendipitous.
"But, off the record, I agree with your statement. Art 'schools' and 'styles' shouldn't be the sole focus on what aesthetic standards should be, especially in education. But with the administrators being more focused on... fads like advocacy..."
I smothered my laugh with a cough.
"...it's only natural that their pet offense-takers will see your test answers as objectionable. Besides, the way you expounded on the answer cut their objections off, as you used the statement to grab their attention, and then get to the meat of the answer. Still, Mr. Park..."
"Yes, sir?"
"I remember you telling me you will 'turn the corner' come midterms, and I'm holding you to it."
"Will do, sir."
"Good. Now enjoy the rest of your week."
"Thank you, sir."
***
I know I've prepared enough for the Art Theory midterm; it can't be helped, if Kain doesn't pass this one, his dreams of being a famous painter will be good as gone with the wind.
I've done my due diligence, Kain scanned my notes, and I'm sure he's going to do well.
He's breezing through the first couple of questions... that's strange.
He's always finding the questions related to art history more difficult than more modern methods, which he at least has little knowledge of that I can work with...
I'm expecting him to struggle in this midterm, hence all the notes I passed to him.
Kain, however, is not struggling now.
His posture is relaxed while he's putting pencil to paper, writing down confidently as he's going through the questions one after the other.
Towards the end, he's having trouble with the test, but it's to be expected, since he doesn't seem finished, and there's only a little time left...
Come on, Kain. Put it together.
It's just under a minute left when he puts down his pencil, relief on his face, and I also sigh in gratitude that he was able to step it up at this really critical moment.
Still, those first questions were supposed to be his weak points – why did he answer them with a lot more confidence than before?
***
"Kain, you're not supposed to have your eyes glued on your phone while you're eating, especially when you're with someone," Tessa tells me as we're waiting for lunch to be served.
We're at a restaurant just outside the campus and celebrating my passing the midterm with a rather impressive score (for Kain Park, not for someone like I, Leonard Variel).
"It's fine," I reply without looking up at her. "Our meal's not here yet."
"Kain."
At her more serious voice, I look towards her, and see her pout intensely.
"Fine, fine," I answer, and put the smart phone away.
I'm still nowhere near done figuring out what this gadget can do, so I try to put as much free time as I can in doing so; for all the time I took cleaning up the suite, I still had a lot of time to look through the things that painted a picture of who Kain Park was.
I said it before and I'll say it again: this gadget is amazing. It's like a hundred things in one small device, the versatility is out of this world.
I would've waxed poetic about this, but Tessa's giving me a mean look; besides, lunch is close to arriving.
Five minutes later, our meal arrived, some fusion dish whose name I can't pronounce but goes well with rice, and we started to eat.
It's when we're done with eating and wait for drinks and dessert that we continue our conversation.
"You should be proud of your midterm score," Tessa said. "I mean, Professor Han gave me an 89."
I nodded slowly.
"I could've done better."
"You could, but 78 out of 100 is a very, very good score already," Tessa continued. "I mean, they're not calling you a 'lost cause' anymore."
"Again, I could've done better."
"While I like your new attitude," Tessa said as drinks were served, "you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Cherish your victories whenever you can."
"Well, I guess you're right..." I replied. Sounds like she won't let this go. Might as well play along for now. "How about a toast to the midterms?"
Glasses clinked in a toast, and Tessa wore a smile as we drank.
***
Kain said he'd be doing a bit more studying to prepare for the finals when I left him.
There's something odd about him, but I can't, for the life of me, figure it out.
He scored great in the art theory midterm, so what Professor Han told me about helping him turn it around may have worked.
I'm not sure, though... maybe there's more to this than meets the eye...
But I will still stand by Kain throughout all of this... after all, it's what I promised in exchange for being able to study here in the first place.