Art and Love

For the love of art...

For the love of art I am here in San Francisco. For the love of art I am disappointing one aunt with her expectations, I thought that would be one of the hardest things I ever had to do because, well I mean its not like I like letting people down. But Brown, it just was not for me. I applied for kicks. Oh I know how bad that probably sounds, but I did. I didn't seriously think I would get in. I mean, I had decent grades and the whole foster care program and such, but I think what really won me that slot was my admissions essay. Leave it to the OCD impulse that hardly ever kicks in to rev me up into producing 15 drafts of my personal statement in one month to get it perfect. And then get into every school I applied to. Granted it did feel nice. But..it wasn't me.

Brown, how do I see it.

It is a ivy league school, one of the best in the country, it is well known, world wide, even for its prestige. But...what about the people who go there? Are they happy? Do they have good jobs? How many people actually make it through that whole experience of an undergraduate there and find something meaningful? Not many I bet, I mean, you are just one in a crowd, just a number. And its stuffy, its conformed and uniformed and old school. The reason this comes up today is that my aunt, who I had called happy about orientation and such here, had commented, once again. for at least the hundredth time it feels like, that it was such a pity I had not chosen Brown. She believes I'll regret it eventually.

No regrets, that's something I follow.

But I don't think I would ever regret it anyway. Brown, that experience, that lifestyle, just wasn't a brush that I chose for my canvas, it certainly added a touch of color to the white, but it isn't going to be a defining thing in my life. Because I don't think it fits with the other colors, the colors, the things in my life that I need to be happy. And I need art. I need art and life and love and joy and expression.

Art is expression, art is living. I am art by living, and as I said in a previous blog, this is my canvas, I chose the colors.

Why is it that others in our lives, parents, teachers, aunts and uncles, grandparents, anyone really with years ahead of us seem to think that they know better what to chose? I mean, I wouldn't want to go into my Still Life painting class and sit down next to somehow, who I don't know, and lets say they are a oil painter. Well what if I handed them a tube of acrylic paint and a brush meant just for water based paints? What could they do? Well they could paint, probably be slightly resentful to me, after all I had forced a choice upon them, one that didn't fit them, who they are as an artist and a person. I think that's part of what appeals to me at this school. The course work, the classes you take to get your degree aren't forced upon you. These teachers and directors know better then to force a brush or paint or choice upon anyone. Because each person is an artist crafting their own life.

And certainly, I'll know better how to create and expand on my life then anyone else.

My other two aunts are just happy for me, rather nice feeling. Aunt P (the one from Arizona), is happy but also pleased by this school being one of the top art colleges in the country, and all the other fancy things that they offer and are. The only art school with a university as part of its name, the great ranking, job placement rates, the programs they offer, their fame. I mean, she is thrilled that I am happy, but to someone who went to Harvard, you need some backing for things. However, I think she understands the most how I feel when Aunt C makes the comments about Brown. After all Aunt P , whenever Aunt C refers to her in conversation is "My sister who went to Harvard" while, I am now, "the niece that got into Brown". Isn't it lovely how much silly things like that mean to some people?

Aunt L, the one in Texas, however is just happy because I am happy. And she loves me and wants what is best for me as a person. She gives freely of herself, her love, her time, heck even her money, which I am trying to pay her back for. But she doesn't care, because to her, all she wants is to see me reach my dreams. And, because of that I think, her color of paint in my life is the strongest of them all.

I had a surprise color enter my life lately, one that I probably should of written about before, my Aunt C's mother in law. I have known her since I was a little girl, she was "Nonnie", a grandmother figure. And she had receded out of my life and now, suddenly is back in it and in a big way. She is proud of me, supportive. And giving. I was not expecting her to take much interest in me at all, after all we are not directly related in any way, just by affection really. However she came with me to my school, helped me get settled in the first day, put herself down as my emergency contact. Invited me to her house on weekends, and then yesterday, when my uncle came to drop off the rest of my stuff, sent a care package full of things. I was caught off guard by how much she had sent. And they were thoughtful things, things she knew I would like. I find it interesting how she, who I haven't seen for years until just Saturday, has picked up more about me as a person then my Aunt C who has been in my life basically all of it.

I hold a skeptism of my Aunt C I didn't before. As a more adult person I see her weaknesses, I still love her, and I cherish all the memories I have of her. However I do admit to having little patience with the rather Barbie doll like treatment she gives me at times. I am more then capable of chosing my own clothes and makeup styles, and I don't need her playing with my hair everytime she wishes. There is also always the pressure to conform to what she wants and needs. Last year, years before that I would have done that and happily for the most part. Because all I wanted to do was please other people, make them happy, ease things for them. Their colors dominated mine on the canvas of my life, I was not assertive enough.

This past year has taught me to stand up more, to boldly splash the color of myself across the canvas of this period in my life. Its my base coat, not white, but me, my personality, my wants, my dreams. Its the tint I use to start from like the gray wash that my still life teacher has us put on all our canvas' before we start that day's sitting. White is a color too you know, at least when it comes to painting, you don't want to start with it once you start the painting. And in life nohting starts off with a completely clean slate. So what base coat do you chose? Do you go with what your family wants? With expectations put upon you by those who are important in your life?

People, especially us young adults, as much as we would like to argue against this, wanting to be "our own" people and rebels to a certain extent; live up or down to the expectations put upon them. When I was in foster care I first noticed this, in Melinda's home. There is this overwhelming basic belief about foster kids, that they are "bad kids", dropouts, druggies, run aways, they are the low of the low and there is no point in thinking they will rise above things, because after all, they are just the 'white trash' right? Wrong. At least for me. I have seen so many wonderful, talented and brilliant teenage girls throw away their dreams, give up, and sink into what is expected of them. And I have been asked over and over by workers and foster parents what makes me so different. I honestly don't think I'm all that different, I just view things differently. For me, I always knew that I wanted college and nothing was going to keep me from that dream. I am stubborn, perhaps that is the root of it.

I am finally free of the expectations that were dismissive of me, of my mind and person and dreams. But now I find myself with people expecting a lot out of me. Because of course I had to challenge the system and rise above it. Now they all watch closely to see if I fall. But I won't, because my love, my art, they are my strength and there might be weakness in art as a steady job, but there is also the strength of doing what you love, what is right. And that strength will see me through all the hard times.