Reflection on My Artist Statement

Today in class, I finally gave my "artist statement," which is something I had been dreading ever since it was first assigned to write one. The main reason for this being that I don't consider myself an artist. I am confused, chaotic, disorganized, and inexperienced in every way and in no way exemplify the qualities of an artist. Other reasons include my discomfort with talking in front of a class, how intimidating everyone was, and my general feeling of how I didn't have much to say.

I know, what else is new.

But I think it went rather well. I think. Whenever I speak in from of a class like that, no matter how informal the setting, I can't focus on one thing and my mind goes everywhere at once. On top of that, I always blackout as well, so I don't remember what I said in addition to not knowing what I was saying in the moment. The only two things I remember are how difficult I found it to formulate sentences, and I talked about my mother, which was awkward. It was awkward only because I think I said "oh, my mother's dead, that put a bit of a damper on my life," but without explaining why that was significant in my growth as an artist. So in this next paragraph I will sum up for you what I wish I had said in that classroom, more or less.

I don't consider myself an artist, but I want to be. Art is a universal language of relation and inspiration, a medium through which emotions, feelings, moments, and ideas are preserved. Art is the only way, in my opinion, to remind society of what we were and what we could be. Through my art I hope to show people new ideas and new ways of thinking. Understanding different perspectives and opinions is the only way to progress and art is the way I best express my perspective.

I've been creating things for as long as I can remember. I really began to take an interest in art my sophomore year of high school when I took a year-long photography course. The medium was magic to me, working in the darkroom was all I would look forward to. At the same time, my mother was diagnosed with Lung Cancer. As she grew sicker, my need to create and fondness of photography grew stronger and the path of my advancement directly followed the path of her decline. I worked constantly in the darkroom, but I didn't look to broaden my experience because I was so preoccupied with not only taking care of my mom, but the ridiculous courses at the college prep school I was attending. I'm not an academic, but I went to an intensive college prep school and the idea of being an artist was out of the question. I was told it was illogical and would only ever be a hobby and I didn't question it. I didn't even consider applying to art schools until my senior year, until after my mom had died. I fell into a long-lasting depression and couldn't make sense of anything. It was only coming out of this that I realized I wanted to be an artist. In looking for colleges, the only path I wanted to take was one to lead me into the world of art. Art was the most liberating aspect of my life and I knew I couldn't do anything else. When our lives boil down to nothing, we still have that instinctual desire to create, and I never want to subdue that. It sounds terrible of me to say, but my mother's death is the best thing that ever could have happened to me as an artist. It destroyed me as a person, but I rebuilt myself into who I wanted to be. I am still rebuilding myself, but the only thing I know is that this is where I want to be and this is what I want to do.