Reflection Essay : ' Rent 's Due Art Boy '

I will never look at a cubicle office job, a burger-flipping joint, or a salesman’s job and say, “that’s where I want to be in a few years.”. In my lifetime, I have never had an interest in an office job, quite unironically, I’ve always looked to the arts as a potential job source. I love colors, lines, shapes; I find beauty in it all. Art is all around us in this world, and I plan to contribute by becoming an animator. That is my dream job because it’s the ultimate way for me to utilize my creativity. I’ve jumped from multiple dream jobs to the next, at first I considered being a professional “fine arts” artist, working with pencil and any other medium to create classical pieces of work. As times progressed, I’ve slowly realized that the

Due to the support of my eccentric but talented art teacher, I slowly expressed my emotions, feelings, or thoughts into physical pieces. My favorite art piece is a mediocre painting I made in 10th grade: a body, one half is Kim Jong-Un and the other half is an impoverished child. Poorly made, it still epitomizes my belief in art’s ability to capture political thought and passionate emotions to move others. It felt amazing to go with one’s inspiration and create something just for the sake of creation. I have taken art since 7th grade, and for my AP Art Exam this year, my concentration portfolio consists of figure paintings of my friends who were willing to pose oddly for me. Simultaneously drawing odd and interesting body figure with my friends’ cooperation makes the process even more fun. I enjoy the relaxing process of creating something by myself. Wanting to see how well I could do, I have submitted four pieces to a regional art competition and have earned high scores. Unfortunately, I never qualified for state and there is still much room for improvement in the future. And because of my love for art, I am the vice president for Art Club and the volunteer coordinator for National Art Honor Society- both organizations that allow me to become friends with others that are just like me. I am also involved in many of the organizations offered at our school, such as National Spanish Honor Society and National Honor Society, that have allowed me to give back to the community that I have come to love. Ultimately, I know that the memories I have made in these groups has shaped me into a person who will continue to work hard in the

It was my freshman year of high school when I took Drawing A; I quickly learned that I had a skill that I had previously ignored and began embracing it. Sophomore year, though, was when I truly started using my art. It was during this year that I received a 4 on my AP-Studio Art portfolio, and won four awards at Scholastic Art and Writing in photography. Art gave me a feeling of accomplishment that I didn’t usually get in the rest of my academics, so I always tried my

The pencil liberates my stresses and sorrows. Bare and unimpeded, my mind is able to isolate itself from anything that was happening in my life. At my art table, which is merely an escape from reality, my curiosity is able to wander. Within this room, five blank canvas's look in on me as I become a mold of my imagination. A step inside my world develops into a sea of color and exploration. The vibrancy of the walls resonates throughout. Over the years, my room has served as my oasis. It’s my escape from monotonous and mundane routines. It’s my exploration of another side of me. I observe such works of art almost as much as I create. Taking notice of my classmates’ innovations and inspired by their creativity, my paintbrush begins to alleviate stress. I strive to produce pieces others will appreciate, but often find myself to be the true admirer. My pride, in this world, is driven simply by my own curiosity to express myself. I credit this side of me as the “passion” that supplements my insane drive for success. This passion has sparked critical thinking in me as well as how I see failure. Life is a blank canvas and you can truly draw whatever you want, and if you fail, you start over and don’t make that same mistake again! Hard work takes ideas quite far, but true success is derived from ingenuity and the generation of

I’m sitting at my computer, ignoring pages of economics homework and mugs of cold tea now strewn about my desk, as I search for a direction to go with my life. Such was was my predicament several months ago. It’s undeniable that I’m an artist, hard and true, for a pencil found its way into my hand as a child, and no desire of mine nor of the universe ever tempted it to pry away. Throughout my earliest years and memories, I maneuvered with graphite, paint, and crayon every adventure that I ever dreamt of pursuing. Oh, I was a resilient child, as well, who refused to take part in any art class at school or as an extracurricular for an abundance of years, as I was invariably convinced that I could learn all I wished on my own accord! Consequently,

In this pursuit of art, I’m constantly researching or dialoging with multiple artworks. Sometimes my own, sometimes the works of others. The past couple years I have felt a little more limited in my dialog with art, mostly due to time constraints while being in school and working. A similar sentiment shared by many students who are experiencing these difficult times, I’m sure. This lack of time to fully advance myself in the art that I’m trying to practice is trying, but does not make the task completely impossible. My choice to advance my career as an artist through the pursuit of a secondary degree was one of the best influences to my art. Surrounded by a strong community of incredibly talented and helpful staff and colleagues has elevated my work beyond what I could have imagined. Advancing my level of higher thought along with it.

Since I was a little girl art has been a part of my life, whether it has been painting my favorite celebrity, knitting a blanket, or drawing Time Square. I’ve always found joy when creating something others will admire. With my love of art came a decision every teenager has to make,“ what will you do for the rest of your life”. With lots of questioning and deliberation, I made the conclusion to further my passion into a career by going to art school in Chicago.

Since I started being inundated with talk of college at the beginning of high school, my mom, aunt, friends, and even teachers have instructed me to follow a “traditional” postsecondary route like engineering, law, or medicine. There is more encouragement in the black community to go into those fields. Art was never perceived to be as worthwhile. With this photograph as the impetus of my passion for art, I dived more into this new world for the first time, not caring about the opinions of the people around me. I searched techniques, art-related careers, and different forms of expression. My brain soaked in this knowledge like a sponge. I took the initiative to find more information and learn as much as possible about photography. As I applied the new knowledge, I continued to create art. My mind visualized new projects I could do based on the weather, from the way I see the color of the sun coming down over the Chicago skyline, to accurately depicting black women in Chicago taking snapshots of reality that would otherwise be forgotten by the following month. Photography even became my diary, an outlet for when I want to take a break from the stress of trying to become a successful black woman. The words “never” and “impossible” do not exist in photography. “Maybe this is what I’m supposed to be doing”, I thought to myself, despite the voices pushing me toward a more lucrative

I was just sitting there, in a dark room, not knowing what to do. Consequently, I frequently felt like a failure. Made me petrified, frightened, terrified that I was not approaching to be able to escape, and that I’d just be a homeless man. Because I believed that I could never find happiness, nor ever have found passion in anything. This consequently made me begin to envision that I was going to become a failure. I have always had the belief that art and graphic design were the attributes that I was passionate about, only to turn out that it was not as effortless as I once thought. Me being an ignorant person, I did not take into consideration that it is an extremely competitive field to be in. I just didn’t have the knowledge about what to do at this point. However, little did I realize, the fad that I had the utmost passion for were right in my ears: music.

I used to quote Henry David Thoreau when my parents scolded me for scribbling on tables, walls, even myself. “This world is but a canvas to our imagination,” I said, not understanding the meaning of the quote. In 2008, the scolding ceased when I won my first art prize: a Third Premium in the K-12 art competition at the Minnesota State Fair. Ignoring the food, rides, and ponies, I combed the galleries for my masterpiece. I found it in the corner: a drawing of a lopsided elephant and a ribbon. For the rest of the day, I sauntered through the displays, convincing myself that my work matched the quality of others’. After all, I was a winner. The Grand Prize display stopped me, but not for long. My winning-induced arrogance convinced me that earning

Artists are often born with the innate ability to draw, but any adult can learn the skill. Becoming a master draftsman requires countless hours of hard work, immeasurable amounts of patience, an endless supply of perseverance, a burning passion for art, and dedication to self-expression. These traits are not easily accumulated but certainly attainable for anyone who is willing. Guidance from an instructor can facilitate the act of learning but, is not the only route artists have taken. They have accomplished the impossible, they have taught themselves the elements and principles of art through experimentation, abundant practice, and diligent effort.

As an artist, I agree with Buren on many issues about the artist creating art in the studio. He states, “if the work of art remains in the studio, however, it is the artist that risk death . . . from starvation” (Buren,203). This essay has really made me think as an artist about the studio, and how vital it is for me as an artist to the art work I create. My studio is a large drafting table with a lamp, multiple drawers, and storage compartment in the front. When I create art, I listen to music. When it comes to the personal art I create for myself, I still have about fifty pieces. People always say I should have a show and sale my work. For me, it is hard to give up my own creations, but when I produce artwork for someone else, it is easier

The artist I choose for my assignment is, Kenneth Nelson, the title of his artwork “Sunburst” is a sculpture piece. 2. There’s not much history about this art work that I selected, only on the artist himself. Kenneth worked in the steel industry for a couple of years, so it would be safe to say that metal sculptures stuke an interest in him . He may have wondered what he could do with all the different kinds of steel he would work with. At this time however artist weren’t really making any money, so he may have felt combelled to move on to others things which he did. His education was important to him

There it lay, isolated, taunting me. My hand reluctantly slithered into the mailbox, like a frightened snake. My head told me the letter would not change anything, but my heart knew what it wanted. Nerves caused me to nearly lose my mind, as well as my lunch. I sliced the envelope to reveal my fate as well as place in the art program. As my eyes skimmed the text, they grew wide, my heart inflated, and my adrenaline seemed to turn from a boil to a simmer. The news? I was an art major. I am able to do what others cannot with a pencil and an imagination. Little did I know, the art major group would soon give me a new definition of community. I gave my ideas talent, time, and loyalty. I gave my all, and in return

Fine art exists since the beginning of time. Its creation does not begin with that of mankind, for, verily, nature is the origin of all art; the ultimate of all artists. Humans, however, are not blind to it at birth. Since the bestowal of vision, both physical and that of the mind, man is expressing the desire to make corporeal that which it beholds. Evidence of this is found in ancient cave paintings, an attempt to immortalize a moment from the past, depicting one from another life. Undoubtedly there have also been drawings in the sand made by the tough-skinned fingers of the primordial ancestor. This urge to reincarnate the sights beheld by memory remains in