I mastered the perfect 60-degree hunch of my back quite early on in my career as a graphic artist. The carpel tunnel assailing my wrists came a little while later, followed closely by tingly, deoxygenated feet. Above the desk where I’ve habituated myself, a swooping green mural spirals on the wall, an abstract masterpiece I painted in 5th grade after weeks of desperately pleading my parents. My first oil painting hangs proudly on the adjacent wall: a chestnut stallion, forever suspended in its casual canter. A single desk lamp softly illuminates the space around me; the hues from above cast a warm and inviting glow. The only sound is the humming fan of my laptop and the light scraping of my stylus on a well-worn graphics tablet.
This place represents my potential for passion. When I was younger, if one were to ask me what occupation I saw myself partaking in the future, my instantaneous response would be an artist. The only thing I pictured in my mind was sitting in front of an easel, paintbrush poised and ready, my canvas stretching for miles on either side of me. Art defined the passion that I exercise now in every activity I perform.
This place represents my perseverance with my aspirations, my dedication to what I love, and my affinity for positivity. Maturity came with greater and more realistic expectations. The diversity of my classes exposed new interests, and I opted to pursue a career path guided by my other passions; art, however, never lost its hold on me. I was once told that there was no place in the world for an artist; but when I looked into the world, all I saw were opportunities. The delicate painter hands of a surgeon opening up flesh with steel- or perhaps the precise touch of a course bristle brush along untouched canvas. The engineer’s rapt attention to the most precise details of his prototype with an artist’s scrutiny for imperfection. I opened my eyes and saw an infinite amount of opportunities to which I could apply my earliest passion.
This place represents my originality and my eagerness for a challenge. Seven years later, I sit in the same fashion as I did, my canvas digitalized and my bristle brushes exchanged with plastic stylus nubs. Regardless of the physical assaults, my desire and ardor radiate the same way it did all throughout my earlier life. Art has become a more concealed part of me, not in fear or shame but more for a personal solitude. Despite this, I strive to channel this part of me outwardly through every action I perform. The foundation of a painting is a step-by-step process, but each phase on its own opens itself up to innovation. The world works in the same manner. Constantly seeking new ways of doing things is the most efficient approach to advancement, and I utilize this concept in art and in my life. Each new piece also gives rise to adversities that I need to overcome. With patience and diligence, these are the challenges that I learn from to achieve even greater things than I’ve ever imagined.

This place is the outlet for my frustrations, my canvas for creation, and my place for expression. It has showed me to cherish the parts that constitute a whole; it has demonstrated a whole new perspective of which I can view the world. Here, I don the wings of imagination and I become whoever I want to be.

And ironically, with every step of leaving myself behind, I grow.