I was lucky enough to go to “art school” for college, but I might have wasted the whole opportunity
At least, in some ways.
I’ve always been a little bit of a teacher’s pet, a little bit of a people-pleaser. Being a “good student” and being on my teacher’s good side was always a priority for me, from elementary school all the way to college graduation. I never wanted to rock the boat, or be a bother to anyone. I wanted to maintain straight A’s and consistent praise. I’d be mortified otherwise.
It turns out this is not a good mix with “art school.” Because creativity isn’t anything like a multiple-choice quiz or turning in a middle school English essay. It requires you to be bold, risky, and different. It requires you to dig deep into yourself and pull out what’s in there. It requires you to take a chance on things that resonate with you, but might not resonate with others.
And I was too afraid to do any of those things.
Even when I started taking art seriously in high school, I was too scared to do anything risky. I played it safe. I made things that I knew my teachers, and parents, would like. I made things that were easily understood. I made things that were safe for all ages and all audiences, and didn’t try to convey any deeper meaning or deeper emotion.
This extended to college, even when I was living on my own and stumbling into young adulthood, when there was no particular reason why I should self-censor or hold my own ideas back. I still wanted to get along with every professor and make things that were 100% obvious and understandable. I wanted to make the professors smile, nod, and say I did a good job. Then they could walk away and have a long, awkward conversation with the other student in class who was making something “confusing” and “personal.” I didn’t want to make anything that was too anime, too nerdy, or too emo. I didn’t want to come across as one of those weird students, one of those other freaks.
I completely wasted my opportunity to make anything good. Or anything that would mean something to me.
One of my problems is that I was a good student. I was a hard (enough) worker, I was attentive in class, I was “well-behaved”, and I liked to participate. I tried to be charismatic and sociable with the professors when they spoke to me. I was good at pitching my ideas, presenting them like you would present them to a client or an executive producer. I was ready for the adult world of Powerpoint presentations.
I went as far as scrapping all of my fun, creative, personal ideas for my senior thesis film and opting instead to make a mock-up Spotify commercial, because I thought it would “look better in my portfolio.” I ended up hating my thesis film and hating myself too. The choice to go for “safe” instead of “fun” resulted in a terrible end-product. So bad, it didn’t even end up in my portfolio anyway.
Once it was too late, I realized what my downfall was: I believed that art and creativity was something that you could pitch to a stranger in words.
I had a way with words, at least compared to some of my fellow students, so I could “talk my way out” of any critique or conversation about my work. I could pitch professors and other adults on what my project was and why it was good, and they would nod with satisfaction. I had “won them over” with my pitch. Using words.
But art can’t be described in a verbal elevator pitch…which is a simple fact of life that I only get now.
Whatever your idea is…it’s an emotion, or aesthetic, or vibe, or story that will be expressed through the thing you make. It will make sense once you make it. It’ll start to make sense once you start sketching on paper, or start fiddling around on the piano, or when you take your camera out onto location.
Honestly, even prose and poetry can’t be “pitched” in words, at least not briefly. The poetry will click when you start writing the poems themselves. You can’t describe what the work is going to be like to a professor, or family member, or whoever you’re seeking approval from before you put the pen to paper.
I was too scared to do any of my actual creative ideas in college because I felt embarrassed to try to pitch them in words to the whole class. So I pivoted to safe ideas, ideas that were easily explainable, bland, and simple. Things that could be explained in words.
Luckily, that was years ago. And now I realize that nothing I want to make, none of the fuzzy nebulous ideas I have, are going to be easy to pitch in words to someone else.
But that doesn’t mean they’re bad. That just means that I have to actually sit down and make them, and see what works and what resonates, and then show people once it’s actually ready. You can’t describe the stroke of a pen, or the way colors and shapes blend together. It’s not like describing a research project, looking for grant money. It’s supposed to be a form of creativity. If it’s a game, it’s meant to be played. If it’s a painting, it’s meant to be seen and studied.
You will never, ever be able to explain it in words.
The only way to get people to see what you’re going for is to actually go for it.
