Midpoint Blues

"Ahhhhh...  I see the problem.." came the quiet musical voice of my grad school painting professor.  He stood with a disconcerting expression on his face as he examined the painting I just turned in.  He continued, "You like everything!".  Crimson flushed across my face as I rewound those words in my brain.  Grad School was not for the weak of heart I reminded myself and  I was there to learn.
  This critique happened somewhere around midpoint.  I had felt shame at that moment but looking back it did make me respond by pushing myself beyond the limits of my past work.  At the end of the semester the teacher said it was an "honor to have had me in his class".  I am unsure if this was just a kind compliment given regularly but I also appreciated it. This was my final painting for his class of my son.