Mackenzie Stroh - Mobility Student
at the Maryland Institute, College
of Art, Baltimore, Maryland, U.S.A.

' My first view of Baltimore was from
- the Amtrack station at 3 a.m. after a 17
hour train ride from Toronto. i sat on the
curb waiting for a cab, trying to recall the
reasons why i had chosen to travel 3000
miles to a city notorious for its racial
tension, crime rate, drug infestation and
poverty. i was dumb-founded. i thought it
a cruel joke that i am attracted to drudg-
ery, because at 3 a.m. in Baltimore, Mary-
land, there is not much comfort in reason.
When i applied to the mobility pro-
gram last Spring, i chose Baltimore be-
cause it sounded, how shall i put it?,
‘exotic’. Oh, the excitement and adventure
of living in the ‘armpit of America’, i
thought. It’s amazing that what we antici-
pate and what actually transpires can be
so conflicting. This is not to say that iam
disappointed with my experience in Balti-
more, because if anything it was so much
more than what i expected.

I had the good fortune of living only
two blocks from the Art Institute in a
beautiful brownstone with a nursing
student from San Francisco. Since we were
both in the same predicament (i.e. not
knowing a single soul in Baltimore and
experiencing extreme culture shock), we
became instant compadres. Our rent was
cheap ($500 U.S. for a huge two-bedroom)
and the neighbourhood was considered
one of the ‘better’ areas of town.

When i arrived at the art institute, i was
met with a very warm welcome from the
administration and an invitation to attend
‘orientation week’ (which consisted mostly
of events aimed to passify parents paying
$16000 tuition a year to send their genius
17 year old to art school). The education
system in the U.S. being as it is, attending
an institution such as M.I.C.A. is reserved
for those who can afford the luxury. In a
city whose population is 80% African
American, I expected to see more than the
handful of African American students
attending the Institute.

i was told that the only department
that had ‘room’ for me was the photogra-
phy department (i was later informed that
i was put into photo because it is at the
bottom of the Institute’s totem pole -
having only 20-some photo majors). I
enrolled in intermediate photo, colour
photo, alternative processes, video and a
philosophy course. Coming from the fend-
for-yourself multi-media department at
E.C.I.A.D., where technical instuction is a
rarity, the photo department at M.I.C.A.
was a welcome change. My instructors
were more than willing to spend an hour
or two outside of class time aiding me
with my technical traumas.i became _
particularily close to one of my instruc-
tors, Laurie Snyder; a fine individual who
made me feel welcome from the begin-
ning. Actually, i can honestly say that i
found all of my instructors to be quite
wonderful and giving. Their critiques of
my work were not only critical, but ex-
tremely constructive. i consider the work i
produced while in Baltimore to be the
most satisfying work i have done.

I cannot give a general overview of the
Maryland Institute because i spent the

entire semester in the bowels of the beau- .

tiful marble building submersed in the
darkroom trying to figure out how to

make an interesting photograph. Through
my frustration of trying to figure out how
to turn on the archaic enlarger during my
first days underground, i was befriended
by a fellow photo-fiend, mr. Bradley
Valdez. i have never met anyone so pas-
sionate about photography and: dedicated
to learning. i would have to say that i
learned more about ‘art’ from this self-
professed ‘egomaniac with an inferiority
complex’ than from any course i have ever
taken at art school. Gracias, amigo. It is
true that one’s experiences of a place have
more to do with the people than the loca-
tion. :

In my travels and photo-documenta-
tion of Baltimore, i was often shocked and
saddened by the poverty and segregation
that exists there. Call me naive, but i
never actually believed that "Boyz in the
Hood" was based on a reality. Hearing
gunshots fired down the street and search
helicopters looming over-head ona
nightly basis was a rude awaking for this
country bumpkin. “This ain’t Kansas,
hon”. That point was made perfectly clear
to me by the man who held me up at
gunpoint three feet from my doorstep. i
jokingly call this the ‘quintessential
Baltimorian experience’; kinda like if you
go to Anahiem,California you have to go
to Disneyland, well in Baltimore you have
to get mugged. Humour is a sick way i
have of masking sheer terror. It wasn’t s

such a laughing matter when i would
then-after freak out every time a stranger
would approach me on the street. ha.ha.

i went to many a fine gallery in
N.Y.C., expanded my cultural horizons on
the N.Y.C. subway, camped outside the
White House with the thousands of home-
less, passed by the Camden Yards....i could
bore you all to oblivion with my
‘blah,blah,blah...Baltimore...blah,blah,blah...’.

It is not yet clear exactly how my time
in Baltimore has effected me. i am still
adjusting to my life here and being back
at E.C.1.A.D. i feel like i have dreamt the
last five months. Despite all of the drudg-
ery of Baltimore, i grew to love it there
and several of the people in it. This is an
experience that has shaken my spirit.
Being away tends to put things into per-
spective. There is a great deal here to be
thankful for- a comparitively small tuition
fee ( lets hope this remains true - or shall
we join the elitism of the U.S.? ), incred-
ible facilities, many fine individuals, a
feeling of personal safety (you mean i can
walk from one building to the next with-
out dodging bullets?), and freedom of
expression. Cliche but true, ‘sometimes
you don’t realize what you have’til it’s
gone’. 2

Baltimore

Mackenzie Stroh - Mobility Student
at the Maryland Institute, College
of Art, Baltimore, Maryland, U.S.A.

My first view of Baltimore was from
the Amtrack station at 3 a.m. after a 17
hour train ride from Toronto. i sat on the
curb waiting for a cab, trying to recall the
reasons why i had chosen to travel 3000
miles to a city notorious for its racial
tension, crime rate, drug infestation and
poverty. i was dumb-founded. i thought it
a cruel joke that i am attracted to drudg-
ery, because at 3 a.m. in Baltimore, Mary-
land, there is not much comfort in reason.

When i applied to the mobility pro-
gram last Spring, i chose Baltimore be-
cause it sounded, how shall i put it?,
‘exotic’. Oh, the excitement and adventure
of living in the ‘armpit of America’, i
thought. It’s amazing that what we antici-
pate and what actually transpires can be
so conflicting. This is not to say that i am
disappointed with my experience in Balti-
more, because if anything it was so much
more than what i expected.

Thad the good fortune of living only
two blocks from the Art Institute in a
beautiful brownstone with a nursing
student from San Francisco. Since we were
both in the same predicament (i.e. not
knowing a single soul in Baltimore and
experiencing extreme culture shock), we
became instant compadres. Our rent was
cheap ($500 U.S. for a huge two-bedroom)
and the neighbourhood was considered
one of the ‘better’ areas of town.

When i arrived at the art institute, i was
met with a very warm welcome from the
tration and an invitation to attend
‘orientation week’ (which consisted mostly
of events aimed to passify parents
$16000 tuition a year to send th
17 year old to art school). The education
system in the U.S. being as it is, attending
an institution such as M.I.C.A. is reserved
for those who can afford the luxury. In a
city whose population is 80% African
‘American, I expected to see more than the
handful of African American students.
attending the Institute.

i was told that the only department
that had ‘room’ for me was the photogra-
phy department (i was later informed that
i was put into photo because it is at the
bottom of the Institute’s totem pole -
having only 20-some photo majors). I
enrolled in intermediate photo, colour
photo, alternative processes, video and a
philosophy course. Coming from the fend-
for-yourself multi-media department at
E.CLA.D., where technical instuction is a
rarity, the photo department at M.LCA.
‘was a welcome change. My instructors
‘were more than willing to spend an hour
or two outside of class time aiding me
with my technical traumas. i became
particularily close to one of my instruc-
tors, Laurie Snyder; a fine individual who
made me feel welcome from the begin-
ning. Actually, i can honestly say that i
found all of my instructors to be quite
wonderful and giving. Their critiques of
my work were not only critical, but ex-
tremely constructive. i consider the work i
produced while in Baltimore to be the
most satisfying work i have done.

cannot give a general overview of the
Maryland Institute because i spent the
entire semester in the bowels of the beau-
tiful marble building submersed in the
darkroom trying to figure out how to

make an interesting photograph. Through
my frustration of trying to figure out how.
to turn on the archaic enlarger during my
first days underground, i was befriended
bya fellow photo-fiend, mr. Bradley
Valdez. i have never met anyone so pas-
sionate about photography and- dedicated
to learning. i would have to say that i
learned more about ‘art’ from this self-
professed ‘egomaniac with an inferiority
complex’ than from any course i have ever
taken at art school. Gracias, amigo. It is
true that one’s experiences of a place have
more to do with the people than the loca
tion,

In my travels and photo-documenta-
tion of Baltimore, i was often shocked and
saddened by the poverty and segregation
that exists there. Call me naive, but i
never actually believed that "Boyz in the
Hood" was based on a reality. Hearing
gunshots fired down the street and search
helicopters looming over-head on a
nightly basis was a rude awaking for this
country bumpkin. “This ain’t Kansas,
hon”. That point was made perfectly clear
to me by the man who held me up at
gunpoint three feet from my doorstep. i
jokingly call this the ‘quintessential
Baltimorian experience’; kinda like if you
g0 to Anahiem,California you have to go
to Disneyland, well in Baltimore you have
to get mugged. Humour is a sick way i
have of masking sheer terror. It wasn’t s

such a laughing matter when i would
then-after freak out every time a stranger
would approach me on the street. ha.ha.
iwent to many a fine gallery in
N.Y.C., expanded my cultural horizons on
the N.V.C. subway, camped outside the
White House with the thousands of home-
less, passed by the Camden Yards....i could
bore you all to oblivion with my
‘blah,blah,blah...Baltimore...blah,blah,blah.
Itis not yet clear exactly how my time
in Baltimore has effected me. i am still
adjusting to my life here and being back
at E.C.LA.D. i feel like i have dreamt the
last five months. Despite all of the drudg-
ery of Baltimore, i grew to love it there
and several of the people in it. This is an
experience that has shaken my
Being away tends to put things into pe1
spective. There is a great deal here to be
thankful for- a comparitively small tuition
fee ( lets hope this remains true - or shall
we join the elitism of the U.S.? ), incred-
ible facilities, many fine individuals, a
feeling of personal safety (you mean i can
walk from one building to the next with-
‘out dodging bullets?), and freedom of
expression. Cliche but true, ‘sometimes
you don’t realize what you have'til it’s
gone’.