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The Unexpected
Author's note:
I wrote this story in hopes that other fellow young artists struggling to create art during the pandemic could relate. It can be extremely difficult to tap into your creative and imaginative side when there are no more outside experiences to encourage it. For those of you who are struggling to find your inner artist again, just know that the block never lasts forever. Find what makes you happy again and keep creating.
The rusty hinges scream as the garage door lifts itself from the floor, revealing daylight.
My eyes take a second to adjust and I look over to see my painted boards spotlighted by the sun.
I rake my eyes over every line and stroke on each board. “That’s too thin, that line is crooked.
She’s going to notice,” I observe. I continue to uncover every single flaw in my design and my
hands start to tremble. “Shoot, I should charge her less. Ahhh, she’s not going to like it. What
was I thinking, selling my art?” my thoughts squander. As my anxiety creeps further into my
thoughts, I shake my shoulders to release some of the built-up tension. I squeeze my eyes shut
and my mind starts to wander to a memory from a few months ago.
I peel my eyes open and blindly reach for the racket that is yelling at me to wake up. I
find the source and roll over to open my computer. I promised myself I would take a 30 minute energy nap before my next class. Cursing myself for not sleeping earlier last night, I quickly type in the code and password. My teacher pops up on my screen with her brightly lit face and wide smile.
“Welcome to AP Art everyone, let’s wait a few minutes until everyone joins, and then
we’ll get started,” she explains. I hear bells chime which lets me know that more students are
joining. I take the time to sit up, stretch, and slap my cheeks awake. “Alright let’s get started. So
today, you should have turned in your 5 summer artworks,” she starts. I feel my heart drop into
my stomach and my heart starts to race. I forgot to email her and tell her that I needed more time.
“How do you tell your teacher that you need more time for art that you haven’t started
because you’ve had no inspiration?” I think.
“However, only a few people have turned in this assignment so it’ll be due next week”,
she continues. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in.
“So it’s not just me who’s having a difficult time?” I question aloud.
“For those of you who have turned it in, great job. We’ll do a critique next week. For
now, I’ll end class early so that you all can work on your art,” she finishes. I shut my laptop and I
feel a pit growing in my throat.
I lean my head back and try to blink back the pools forming in my eyes, “I’m letting
myself down. Art is what I love to do so why can’t I do it?”
After scribbling out my thoughts, trashing countless pages of paper, and using all of my
good erasers, I’m burnt out. I’m so lost and everything that I even attempt to draw ends up
looking like a 5 year-old drew it. A knock on my door draws me out of my muddled thoughts.
My dad pokes his head from my door and says, “Hey, I finished sanding and painting the
boards, so they’re all ready to go. Did you come up with a design yet?” Instantly, my ears perk up
and a light goes off in my head.
“DAD YOU’RE A GENIUS!” I yell and beam at him.
“Uhhhhh… thanks? I don’t know what that…” he motions toward me with an open hand,
“is, but good luck pal!” he walks away. I run to my backpack and grab my iPad to open my
favorite app, Procreate.
“Why didn’t I think of this before? These boards technically count as two pieces of art
that I can turn in,” I scold myself. I start brainstorming and decide to create Nickelodeon versus Disney themed cornhole boards. Tomorrow morning I’ll run the design by my parents and get to work!
“Are you sure you can do all that?” my mom questions me, looking up from the iPad.
“Well, not with that encouragement I can’t,” I stare at her blankly. I follow her gaze back
to the glowing screen in front of me. I analyze the burst of colors and intricately placed cartoon
characters filling the page.
“I’m just making sure. You tend to start big projects and then get bored of them a week
in,” she shoots back.
I roll my eyes, “I haven’t been able to make art that makes me happy since this whole
pandemic thing started. This is the first project that has actually inspired me to pick up my paint
brushes again. Plus you’re the one who asked me to design the cornhole boards so…”. Her eyes
scan me, moving back and forth as if there are thousands of words on my face and she’s trying to read every last one.
“Alright,” she sighs defeated, “We’ll go get paint samples at Home Depot tomorrow.” My
eyes widen and I attack her, placing my puckered lips on her cheek. She cringes underneath me
but I couldn’t care less. I’ve finally found a project that I’m passionate about again.
Paint fumes and the smell of fresh wood fill my nose as I step into the garage. In front of
me are my freshly white-painted cornhole boards, waiting to be filled with vibrant colors and
sharp, crisp lines. To the left is my perfectly organized work station filled with paintbrushes in all sizes, assorted bottles of paint in every color, an old jar filled to the brim with water, and my handy-dandy rag that I always smother in left-over paint. Immediately, I get to work and start
sketching out the different cartoon characters from my design. My pencil scratches out Regina
Power’s curly hair, then Aang’s boyish smile, along with Squidward’s balloon-shaped nose, Kim
Possible’s spy belt, and so many more characters that filled the mind of my 6 year-old self. I
glance at the clock and see that it has been two hours and the final sketch is ready to paint.
Two weeks have passed since I finished my sketch and I’m watching my Dad brush a
waterproof garnish on top of the boards to seal the vibrant artwork underneath. With each downstroke, I admire the precise combination of round and straight lines, creating the features of every character. With each upstroke, I admire the variety of colors bringing the piece together as one. Watching the brush move back and forth over every detail, I swell up with pride
knowing that I created a piece of art again after feeling deprived of creativity for so long.
My eyes jump open and I am brought back to
the present when I hear a loud slam behind me.
“Wow, Maya. You’ve come a long way since your first set of boards. I know times have been crazy but I’m so proud of you for starting your own small business. It’s inspiring to see that you’ve used these boards and your business to share your passion with others. Not many people can say they have,” my Mom compliments. She stares into my eyes and says, “I can see the worry in your eyes. This…,” she gestures towards the boards, “is mind-boggling. You are so amazing at what you do and I’m sure she is going to love it. Stop doubting your work because this is the best set you’ve done yet,” she reassures me. I feel a smile creep onto my face and I start to relax under her encouraging words.
“Thanks, Mom, I wouldn’t have gotten here if it wasn’t for you and Dad’s help along the
way. It’s really awesome to have parents who will support you no matter what. It means a lot to
me, so thank you,” I say with new tears in my eyes. She puts a hand on my shoulder and
squeezes with a reassuring smile.
We both turn our attention to the car pulling up to our driveway and watch as my customer steps out of her car. My body eases as her smile grows with every passing second that she stares at the cornhole boards. The dimple in her cheek and the sparkle in her eyes bring me to a realization.
I never figured that something so unexpected, like the pandemic, could lead me to where I am today. I’ve always known that life never turns out how you want it to. Just like art, you can sketch out millions of plans, but you never know the outcome until you start
painting. In these past few months, my small business has been my paintbrush, my inspiration, my drive to keep pursuing my passion. I’ll never know what tomorrow will bring, but I hope to continue painting.
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