Simple portfolio tips for art school applications for Art Foundation courses

Simple portfolio tips for art school applications for Art Foundation courses

An open day is a great opportunity to explore an area and get a feel for the course. At the interview stage, many tutors make a point of asking if you have attended any and it looks bad when you say you haven’t. Make sure you attend them!

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Skinny Jeans

Skinny Jeans

Jess downloaded photos of scene kids from MySpace and painstakingly coloured their hair in rainbow colours, then we went on Chat Roulette until we saw a penis and Jess got scared and turned off the computer. Her mouse pad had a picture of Hello Kitty on it. She had coloured in its clothes black and added Emo make up, and crossed out ‘Hello’ with ‘GOODBYE’ in red felt tip.

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blankslash

blankslash

a / begins at her forehead

snakes down her face chest stomach legs toes

a single /

a single lie

a single lie repeated and deepened infinitely

cut healed re cut re healed

barely knitted skin still raw freshly pink

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Murmurations

Murmurations

It was cold. Bloody cold. The kind of cold that makes your ears ache and your teeth jitter, so we held hands to keep warm. I picked up a tiny shell, all pink and pearlescent with a frilled edge and you found a perfect little pebble, smooth and round. You went down to the water’s edge to wash off the sand and grit and gave it to me.

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& the sun will set into my palms

& the sun will set into my palms

Our father found a kitten on the road home from the oil rig last year. We named her Fariah, meaning friend. She was a dirty, scrawny little thing that was probably just a few weeks old. We took it in turns to feed her scraps from the kitchen, and she tried to suckle our fingers with her gummy mouth. She grew up to have kittens of her own, but she was too weak to look after them and she died under the tree house. We only found her because of the smell. 

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Wasteman

Wasteman

Before I cashed up, I saw some hand soap by the counter. We’d run out at home and I had been using dandruff shampoo to wash my hands, my housemate and I refusing to back down first and go to the corner shop for a new bar. The label said it was fig leaf, but it smelled more like my dad’s aftershave. I bought the soap, a matching body spray and hand cream and the shop assistant wrapped them and the new jumper in the bag. I imagined a trio of figs nestled in the soft grey sleeves, held gently while they ripened and released their sweet perfume.

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