Opinions about art will always differ – some think photographs of crucifixes in urine are good art, while others believe a still-life oil painting of dogs bowling is worthy of hanging on their living room wall.
For myself, doodles are the gold standard of college art. Every student has sat through class and expressed boredom through squiggles, squares, feathers and striped boxes.
Each of my notebooks is lined with black, vaguely curved shapes weaving in and out of the few notes I actually take. No discernible pattern or desired outcome is evident. The only limit to these inkings is the amount of paper I have and the length of class.
Though I’m not a true artist or even an amateur one, I can draw an effective doodle even with no formal training. For those of you who have wondered, “How can I draw a 3-D box or a heart with an arrow through it?” I have created a doodle equation to help.
The Linear Equation of Free-Flow Digression in Class Participation: Perfect doodle = (number of credit hours + number of required books X class level)/number of people you know in the class.
I have based this equation on countless hours of observations and in-depth research, including coloring out of the lines in a coloring book and documenting drawings in the stalls of men’s bathrooms (Larry’s bar and the journalism building contain fine examples).
This equation has been field tested in numerous classes and has resulted in such great works as Comm 200’s “Mona Lease,” a drawing of a Mona Lisa attempting to sell strategic communication theories or History 151’s “Brutus Buckeye Crosing the Oval,” an abstract rendition of Brutus crossing the Oval on a tricycle.
Unfortunately, for all my artistic training the Art Institute of America does not think my equation holds water. When I completed the institute’s free test, which is supposed to reveal latent art talent – the one where you draw a pirate and a turtle – I failed.
I did not think you could fail an art test, but apparently a crude drawing of Leonardo from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in a pirate hat eating a misshapen pizza was grounds for failure. Sadly, I’m positive the institute sent my art through the shredder (pun intended).
My rejection from the art world led me to ponder many things, one of those being a quote by former President Theodore Roosevelt: “Speak softly and carry a big stick.” What I realized was my stick happens to be a paper-towel roll covered with glitter and plastic diamonds.
Sure, my doodles are not exceptionally life-like – or even remotely life-like – but I enjoy drawing and hanging them on my refrigerator, despite my roommates continually taking them down.
Some people have Monets and Rembrandts hanging on their walls. I have Econ 200 notes with a fish on the middle of the page. My only hope is that in the future after I have passed away, my doodles will be found by archeologists, who will ask the question: “What is this?” I also hope by then my equation for perfect classroom doodles will have caught wind on the Internet and transformed post-modern art into post-post-modern art (PPMA).
David J. Cross is a senior in journalism who has never cut off one of his ears to give to a girl. He can be contacted at [email protected].
