As important as art is to me now, I do not think it was this way my whole life. Yes, I am one of the kids who loved arts and crafts and even doodled everywhere since I could first remember. My first big masterpiece was on our first apartment’s living room walls, but even then I do not think it means the same as it did then.
During my freshman year of high school, I had the opportunity to think about absolutely anything and focus on anything since my classes weren’t too difficult, so I instantly took all of the chances I could get to work on my art. My class had been all seniors except for me and this was news to me. I found it a bit unnerving in the beginning as I would have new standards. Coming from middle school, it did not take too much to make my teacher impressed, but as critiques were also a new part of a class I knew I had more eyes on my work than ever.
The eyes of others had once not been a thought, but as my art became more of a performance and a part of myself I made pieces of works that also impressed me; this was a first.
This feeling came again when listening to art being spoken about through my professors at Stevens, and while I read books about the arts. Now I am able to broaden my understanding about just how much of a capsule of the artist it truly can be.
I’ve realized how much I loved the arts. The importance of it in my life came to me during my senior year of high school when I was never able to put just as much meaning into my college essay if it wasn’t about the arts. We were told to write about ourselves in our application, of course, but also because it was the only chance to be intimate and open in our identity. All the other nonsense that was needed to apply was just a bunch of society’s made-up standards of what a hardworking student should be doing with their time (having a high SAT score and exploring all the clubs and extracurricular activities possible). And as much as all the grades and work had credited the work of a student, the portfolio and my essay on the arts truly felt like it was a part of me.
All these thoughts and talk about art were due to my realization that its all back to the importance of passion. It is behind my choices recently and I hope that never changes–this thought came to me because of a conversation with my roommate about her passions. We went to Central Park (as a therapy session and we do this whenever in need for a breather) and I felt the feeling I have whenever I get inspired. This time it was not from other people, but from the fact that I had been in that spot painting a combination of the city and the tops of trees. The passion behind work is truly inspiring, and being able to have this connection with something is scary and fulfilling like nothing else. It’s scary when it has so much to do with my major, but at the same time doing what I love for work is the only way I can see my future going.
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