NOTE: Dear readers. This may seem a little out of sequence, or an odd request, but could you start reading from part one (below). I want you to have the full impact of what I wrote. I would appreciate any comments you have as well.
---S.
Michael was the type of professor who withheld all comments. I always thought he disapproved of my artwork. That was so far from the truth. Back in my undergrad days, I stood out like a sore thumb. I was tall, and the only African-American male student in the Studio Art department. There were a few AA ladies, but they were scattered about. I, however, digress. Michael could remember me easily. I loved working on my art. He was kind enough to check on my progress, along with so many of the faculty.
He enriched me as a student by giving me the space to grow, and encouraging me to be a better artist. I am so grateful for his support. I can tell you with all honesty that it hurts that I didn’t know he passed until tonight. It hurts that my friends weren’t my friends.
I choose, in loving memory of my Professor, to make more art, and I feel the need to rise above all transgressions. Ain’t nobody taking that from me.
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