Dear Art Techer
This is an open letter to my dear art teacher.
Dear teacher who said I wouldn't make it,
I am in my apartment cleaning when a song comes on that makes me feel the need to paint RIGHT NOW. I remember in high school, When I had you, and you would degrade and belittle my work, no matter how good it was, when you told me I wasn't cut out for the art industry and that I wouldn't make it. Sitting here, I realize that making art is an expression of yourself, and it's not meant to please anyone else. This isn't about "making it". This is about me. It's about every artist, who has had their dreams crushed and ripped out from under them. It's about finding a way to be heard, because we were made to feel like our voices aren't loud enough. That we aren't good enough. This is about being happy. It's about creating something that will go on when you feel like you can't. It's about creating yourself, because there's something inside of everyone that needs to be let out, and this can be the only way. Art is about celebrating that thing inside of us that you told us we couldn't express because we express it wrong. My value as a person is not dependent on whether or not I can paint a tree that looks real. It's about making a tree that when I look at it, I can say "that is me. I'm that tree" because we are. We continue to grow and create new things, just as trees create leaves and the seeds to make new ones. So yes, you discouraged me. For a very long time. I can't tell you how many times I cried over it. But you know what, dear teacher of mine? I am good enough. Because my tree looks exactly how I wanted it to look, and it's beautiful. My tree that wasn't good enough for you? That tree is MY SOUL. It is mine and mine alone, and you will NEVER tell me again that my tree and my soul aren't good enough. Because my tree is beautiful. And I am my tree.
Love, An Artist
Dear teacher who said I wouldn't make it,
I am in my apartment cleaning when a song comes on that makes me feel the need to paint RIGHT NOW. I remember in high school, When I had you, and you would degrade and belittle my work, no matter how good it was, when you told me I wasn't cut out for the art industry and that I wouldn't make it. Sitting here, I realize that making art is an expression of yourself, and it's not meant to please anyone else. This isn't about "making it". This is about me. It's about every artist, who has had their dreams crushed and ripped out from under them. It's about finding a way to be heard, because we were made to feel like our voices aren't loud enough. That we aren't good enough. This is about being happy. It's about creating something that will go on when you feel like you can't. It's about creating yourself, because there's something inside of everyone that needs to be let out, and this can be the only way. Art is about celebrating that thing inside of us that you told us we couldn't express because we express it wrong. My value as a person is not dependent on whether or not I can paint a tree that looks real. It's about making a tree that when I look at it, I can say "that is me. I'm that tree" because we are. We continue to grow and create new things, just as trees create leaves and the seeds to make new ones. So yes, you discouraged me. For a very long time. I can't tell you how many times I cried over it. But you know what, dear teacher of mine? I am good enough. Because my tree looks exactly how I wanted it to look, and it's beautiful. My tree that wasn't good enough for you? That tree is MY SOUL. It is mine and mine alone, and you will NEVER tell me again that my tree and my soul aren't good enough. Because my tree is beautiful. And I am my tree.
Love, An Artist