One Drawing at a Time

When I was a high-schooler, I ran cross-country for about two years (that choice shocked my mother because I hate running). I remember looking at the ground quite frequently during these runs, and it wasn’t because I was afraid of tripping. Personally, it was discouraging to look ahead at the path before me and not to see the finish line anywhere in sight. When I looked too far ahead, I could physically feel the energy leave my legs and the hope of finishing the race fade from my heart (okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but I really dislike running).

To prevent this sinking feeling from overwhelming me in the middle of a race, I would keep my head down and look at the very ground beneath my feet. I literally had to conquer the 5k-race one step at a time; thus, making each tiny advance in distance a noteworthy feat. In my eyes, it was the very act of moving forward despite everything in my body telling me to quit that was the real achievement.

Why do I bring this up?  

Well, I’m a graduate art student reflecting on the first half of the semester, and I’m quickly approaching the second half. Candidly, I feel very fatigued at the moment, but I’m so proud of the distance I’ve covered thus far. Metaphorically speaking, this feels very similar to the fatigue I faced as a cross-country runner (the difference is that I actually enjoy creating artwork… the same cannot be said about running… have I mentioned that I hate running?).

At the beginning of this semester, the thought of “life-drawing” made me nervous because it was an unfamiliar and new concept to me. But after much time and practice, I can proudly say that I enjoy drawing from life. It’s been a challenging semester, but I can testify that I’ve grown so much as an artist within the last 8 weeks.  

It can be very overwhelming to think about the many projects ahead of me. So instead, I’ll focus on the very paper beneath my pencil and take the next 8 weeks one drawing at a time.

Moving Forward

Since the beginning of the semester, my professor would repeatedly say something along the lines of: “In undergrad, we expect the students to be able to replicate what they see. But in grad school, we expect the students to push past ‘only what they see’ and to let their creative voices be seen through the artwork as well.”

To be honest, I had no idea what he meant until recently… even though he explained it very clearly (Whoops! My bad).

I came to understand what he meant while I was participating in the “Life Drawing” exhibition where the entire class’s portraits were displayed. I can’t explain fully explain what I felt in this moment, but I experienced the “rose-tinted glasses” come off while viewing my artwork. Before I state my perspective, I want to clarify that I am very proud of the artwork I’ve created thus far… however, I was hit with the realization that something has always been missing from my artwork.

What’s been missing from my work?

Answer: My creative voice.

I feel that my work is currently just “nice pictures,” but I strongly feel that it can become something more. I want people to view my artwork and feel moved in their hearts… even if its only just a portrait. I need my artwork to be memorable, but to accomplish this I must go beyond what I already know to be “working” for me. I need to expand my horizons, and that is my goal for the next 8 weeks.

All in all, my goal these next 8 weeks is to find my creative voice… but I suppose this journey will continue well beyond my years in grad school.