My Love Of Art

Flurries of snow roiled in motion under the command of capricious, roaring winds. I stood and marveled at the sight as my eyes traced the white balls thudding against the ground and architectures all at once at exactly the same speeds. Particles of snow danced in joyful synchronization in mid December of ‘05. This was my earliest recollection. This was the day I left my family 12,678 kilometers away to come to the United states for the pursuit of a better way of life. I remember sitting on a rusty old bench on the first day of Kindergarten. The sounds of children at play echoed from the playground, stomping and running and laughing. None of the worries of adults crossed their minds, only how to elude capture by their friends. The rhythmic creaking of swings went back and forth, and some kids tried to time their jumps from the swings to the rhythm. I was one of those children growing up who would pry open a brand new remote control car to pull every component apart than play with it. I surmise this is where my love of engineering truly began.

I trudged out the door in utter denial it was Friday afternoon and I was in an awful mood. For 7 years my mother had made it mandatory for me to take piano lessons twice a week. As a child, I adored practicing and the ethereal feeling I felt each time I played was truly unmatched. Although the pieces I played were classical and were no longer an interest of mine my teacher was a jovial young woman named Mrs. May. She enjoyed wearing floral patterned skirts, she had trademark wide-brimmed glasses and her soft, delightful voice always made me smile. Despite Mrs. May’s enthusiasm and encouragement, I didn’t have the same passion for music as I used to. My short attention span wasn’t helping and having to practice while also devoting time to soccer and cross-country meant my free time was practically non-existent. I thought about quitting but I couldn’t gather enough courage to tell my mother. So that being said I continued, lessons generally followed the same pattern unless I had a recital in the near future. In that case, they were demanding and strenuous. That was the case as in 2 weeks I had my largest recital where I would be playing Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven on top of a piece I had written with the help of Mrs. May.

When I first started to dance my family was very supportive and helped me prepare. There was never dancing in my household, dance was an interest I developed on my own. I have a very small family so it's just me, my mom and dad so we do not have special events with music and dancing. My mom and dad is very supportive of my dance aspirations. Especially my mom has pushed me during the times that I no longer wanted to dance and she has encouraged me to keep dancing and keep trying my best. When I was in my junior year of high school I was questioning if I wanted to dance anymore because I wanted to feel the freedom of being a “normal” teenager and go out with friends after school and not go to dance rehearsals all night long. My mom encouraged me to remember why I danced and that I have a gift and I shouldn't waste it. Looking back at my experiences of balancing high school and competition dance I do not regret it. I am very proud that I stuck with it. When ever I have rough day at dance or am feeling frustrated with it I will always think back to what my mom had said to be and channel her words of encouragement.

I don’t like work—no man does—but I like what is in work—the chance to find yourself. Your own reality … —what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means.

It seems like from the moment I could walk, I have had a love for dancing. When I was little, every chance I got, I would perform in front of my family. Whether I was singing, dancing, dressing up, or pretending to be a model on the runway, I wanted all the attention on me. When my mom put me into dance classes, I instantly fell in love with it, because the whole time, I got to do what I loved the most: perform. As the years went on, dance became something I was truly passionate about, and the lessons I learned from it began to change me. Those lessons and the ones I am still learning from dance have had a huge impact on me, making me into the person I am today.

I am no gluttonous reader, but a lazy English student who finds the process of reading and writing to be quite tedious. Months at a stretch where I don’t flip a page is uncommon. My displeasure from books was driven off of how much interest I have and the content I choose to read. A lack of interest makes it difficult to initiate and finish the reading. It also makes me less attentive as I am prone to distractions. Consequently, I wound up not understanding a single thing I just read and my writing becomes unorganized, not knowing where I left off. After all, interest sparks motivation, and no motivation equals zero attention for the book, hence I’m unable to follow the storyline. When deficient in inspiration, I’m restrained from writing passionately. Furthermore, my interest plays a role in choosing a content I enjoy reading. Not all texts are equally challenging, so the selection of my content declines improving in English.

As the soft, smooth brush strokes of blue and green hues danced across the naked canvas to create something almost mesmeric, my life was forever changed. The oddly satisfying damp smell of watercolors on fresh paper, or the jolt of exhilaration after finishing a week long project is intoxicating like methamphetamine for an artist. Art and the inspiration from my favorite artist such as Vincent Van Gogh and Gustav Klimt, changed my life for the better and led me to find what sets my soul on fire.

The first thing that comes to mind would be my love for music. Ever since I was really young, music has been in my life. Whenever I’m down, angry, frustrated, stressed, etc… I would listen to the lyrics and it would calm me down to the point i’m happy. As I got older, I started to really listen to the lyrics. Every song i came across I would try to analyze and of why I think the songs mean. Is it about love? Depression? Maybe it’s about happiness. This gave me things to think about. I’ve recently started watching drum covers on youtube and this made me realize how much I want to learn to play one, but I don't really know where I could go to learn to play one.

Love is that crazy feeling that everyone gets to experience at least once in their lifetime. From a young age, we are taught mainly by Mexican parents, that having feelings towards another individual meant getting “cooties”. (A children’s term for getting imaginary germs from another boy or girl by either touching them, kissing them, or holding hands.) However, getting “cooties” never had a real meaning. Well, at least not for me. I was a kiddo that was unique. Ever since I was young, I was always being told, mostly by my parents, that love was the best feeling that you will ever get to feel within you. I’m guessing that neither one of my parents got their heart broken because they never told me that love could also break you. That’s what happened with my first love. The first I fell in love with, and the one who broke my heart. Experiencing affection towards another individual and having my heart broken was the time I learned something new.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had a deep love for art. Whether it was painting, drawing, dancing, music, acting, or building and designing, I was completely into it and I wanted to know everything and anything about it. As I began to grow up, I also started looking more deeply into it and doing more historical research to learn about different types of art, techniques used, the way artists think or what their creations mean, and what inspired them. It fascinates me. When I was 4, my dream was to become a painter. I would wake up early in the morning to watch Bob Ross paint and buy art kits, sketchbooks, paint, brushes, coloring utensils, craft supplies, or anything else that I could get my hands on. I was obsessed.

From day to day, I live trying to figure out my purpose of being in this world. No child is born a mistake irrespective of the circumstances. I was born with a talent, although, yet to be discovered. A talent is a symbol of who a person really is. When I was younger, my dad put me through music school hoping that I would learn to play the piano because he wished he did when he was my age. I was not a big fan of playing the piano so I struggled most of the time. My fingers were so stiff and my instructor would request that I moisturize and massage them to make them more flexible. However, the underlying issue was my lack of interest and not my un-cooperating fingers.

Music is the most important thing in life. Or at least it is to mine. I play the violin along with a couple other instruments I taught myself. I went to the Denver School of the Arts for high school to play in their orchestra. I plan on studying music in college. Almost everything I do is connected to music, but it was fairly recently when I first started becoming really devoted to music. There are many kids who are born being an amazing musicians, but my passion for music had to be grown over time.

Since I was a child, I have always been captivated by reading and writing. It is mesmerizing how a well-written novel or essay can transport me to a different world where there are no limitations. The importance of reading and writing were also emphasized by my parents—who would always take my sister and me to the library every week, which in turn cultivated my love for literature. English is one of my favorite subjects because I enjoy writing analytical and persuasive essays, giving presentations, and reading both fiction and nonfiction books. English has also helped me figure out my strengths, which I can then apply to other English courses that I will take in the future.

My love for children has always been something that has pushed me into going into a helping profession. In my field placement I am working primarily with African American children from low-income families and families that live in low income neighborhoods. This inspired me to look further into the plight of impoverished children and the effect poverty can have on them. I seek to explore the biological, educational and social effects it has on their lives. This will allow me to create better programs and allow me to find solutions for them. Poverty affects children as an environment that is damaging to their mental, emotional and spiritual development. (UNICEF, 2014) This goes beyond traditional definitions such as low income or low levels of consumption. It is rare that child poverty is differentiated from poverty in general when it should be. Poverty is not just a measure of children’s suffering it also measures their disempowerment. Poverty also can risk a child’s safety. (UNICEF, 2014) Material deprivation can have children more susceptible to violence and abuse in the home as well as in school. Some of these children are forced to work at a young age at the expense of their education and recreation. (UNICEF, 2014)

Throughout most of my life I have had one consistent goal; to become a veterinarian. I have had a continuous and solid passion for animals in all respects. This passion and love has fueled my in striving to achieve the dreams I have for myself after high school. The beginning of this story begins long before high school though.