The Sculpting Teacher

I'm not certain if I've ever told you, so forgive me if you've heard it.
I had to take sculpting class as a prerequisite to graduate with a bachelor's of Fine Arts. I enrolled in the basic one and had to make clay pots. I was awful making coil pots. And awful at making it on the potter's wheel. And awful at glazing. There was a super cute girl in that class that was just killing it. Her pots look like that shit you saw at Pier One Imports (now gone). I dismissed the class and took to making time with the cute girl (she ended up fucking this dude I knew from a friend who was his girlfriend. Strangely enough, I heard the cute girl and he were married now).
I got called into his office one day. The teacher was a young man, new to the University, chiseled like a G.I. Joe figure. But he had a strange zen to him. LOVED Japanese pottery. Obsessed almost. We were into craft back then.

But all I knew was he had a hot blonde wife. I mean, it was bizarre seeing her in this town with all the frumpy grandmas. She looked like a Playboy model. Bubbly and sweet she didn't belong in farm town Ohio. They also had two little kids.

So he laid it to me straight "You are awful at this. Nothing you made so far is passable. This isn't for everyone and it's clearly not for you."

At first my mouth was open with rage. I wanted to tell him how faggoty potting was, and how clay is stupid and sculpture is for total failures who don't have a clue what to do in life.
Then, in the midst of seething anger and forming words to really let him have it...he said:

"Why don't you try photography?"

I scratched my head. I didn't own a camera. And everything seemed expensive to have to deal with it. But I looked into it...and fell in love. It all made sense. If I were to want to make movies, image capture needed to be learned.

And, of course, that was the path I led.

It's always interesting to me how things do change the course of your life. This sculptor teacher, shitty as he was, was very honest to me about what my capabilities were. And though, I'm sure he meant photography as an insult, it was that small bounce that led me to Hollywood (easier).

At a graduation party at a friend's house, I saw that sculpting teacher, drunk out of his mind...he was still young and seemed to still want to party... As I walked him, he pointed at me and screamed "You! You don't like me. Hey, everyone, he doesn't like me!" I mean screaming. It felt like the room went quiet.
Then I simply told him "No, I don't. But I respect that you were honest with me. And I'm much better off. Thank you."

He seemed confused. Like he thought I would slug him. Then I fist bumped him and left the party.

I guess what I'm saying is, be open minded to some people's criticism. If they're trying to correct your path, don't be offended. Most people mean well, and mean people are most people. But it will make sense in the end.