“I fart art.”
When I first heard this sentence, it was from a friend named Sam who was living in a room that could pass for a closet. She was the kindest person I’d met that year and the most artistic person I knew. That one sentence resonates with me so much. Farting consists of releasing gas that spreads its scent in almost every direction, and goodness did my artistic scent and expression go in all those directions.
Growing up in a family that struggled financially and emotionally, showing interest in the arts is something that was looked down upon. I come from a family of immigrants and I’m a first generation college student with a lot of pressure on me to succeed. Nursing is the ideal career in my parent’s eyes .
I am a writer, a painter, and a singer. Huh.
Going on school trips to the MoMa and being able to listen to music while we worked in the 3rd grade were things that I looked forward to. Humming to myself in class and while I did school work were one of my favorite things to do.
I was in the second grade when I wrote my first book. It was about my cate, Mimie, and about all of the adventures that we had together. My teacher read it and told me that it was amazing coming from someone my age. From that day until the end of second grade, she would send me small writing prompts and suggest some books that she thought would interest me. By 3rd grade, my reading level was that of an 8th grader.
I colored my first bunny in Kindergarten. I used vibrant water colors and I never stayed inside of the line because “real things don’t have outlines”. My teacher hung up the pages in her hallway and mine was nowhere to be found. At 5 years old, I earned my first critic.
As an artist with her fingers dipped into every piece of self-expression, believe me when I say that you will find admirers and severe critics everywhere. I am not kidding you. It’s the people you least expect to support you and the people who you expect to be your crutch are actually the people tearing you down. This comes into play after doing something big, like painting your first canvas or writing the first chapter to your book.
I find myself fumbling all of the time with what I want to do artistically while juggling school, work, and a social life. It always feels like there’s just not enough time for anything and art always suffers by being cut out for some time. I took a step forward this year and decided to stop giving art the short end of the stick.
The first mistake I made was looking for everyone’s approval. I painted my first canvas in the spring and I was excited. I was also a little tender after putting so much time and sweat into my first painting. When I took it home for summer break, I went searching for my parents’ approval. Instead, I received backlash for dedicating time to “painting like a child” when I could have been studying for my tests and getting free tuition or something of the sorts. Although they mean well, my family has always been very critical of the things that seem out of the norm or not the smartest things to do. I also wrote my first book of poems and let them read a demo. The results were negative, to say the least.
Singing and playing multiple instruments were never things that anyone acknowledged as proper careers or simply the way I liked to fill my life. I never cared much for how anyone felt about my singing or other musical talents since I’d grown a backbone early on in my life. I just had to grow the same back bone for everything else.
When I painted my second canvas, I hung it up in our living room and went about my life as if nothing happened. I was so proud of my first canvas, but was even prouder of the second one because of all of the improvements I’d made on my techniques. My father asked me days later about the painting and told me that it stirred something in him. My mother later told me that the painting lit up our living room in a way that her paintings from Haiti couldn’t do.
I’ve learned through art that not caring about what others are thinking and doing it anyways is probably the best way to go about most things in your life. I’ve done it when it comes to singing, writing, and now painting as it finds its way back into my life. I’ve sung my heart out on a stage when the odds were against me. I’ve enter contests, knowing that there is probably some one way better than me who was going to win. I did it anyway. Trying to come out on top and being the very best doesn’t matter if you’re just searching for approval and no longer enjoying the thing you love.
So, I say this to my fellow artists: don’t be discouraged. Whatever you form of art is, whether it be singing or painting, do not be discouraged. Your parents are weary of it because they don’t want to see you struggle financially and mentally. Those people who look at you in awe and call you risky don’t understand that art is more than just a hobby or something to do when you’re bored. The mistakes you make as an artist do not define your art. There is always room for improvement and there are always new ideas springing to the mind. Your writer’s block will go. Your voice will come back. You’ll get that move perfect. People will eventually realize that drawing and painting is not just a thing. Things will get better.
The only thing that really matters is that you enjoy it, that you like what you produce, and that you’re putting your all into it. Everything else falls into place eventually and the only reaction you should truly care for are the positive from others and the feelings that come from you.
