An Artistic Beginning

As a young child I always had paint on my hands, and a vast array of crayons, stickers and glitter. Coming from a non artistic family my parents encouraged my creativity, motivating me to draw and write. Each week during school was an agonising wait for art class, where I discovered pottery, paints and etching to name a few. As I started to catch the artistic bug, I spent time entering into art competitions and having my work featured in school magazines.

However, as I got older, my paint brush was replaced with an iPhone, and my interests centred around Instagram, makeup and of course boys. Art took a back seat in my life, yet I still looked forward to art classes each week.

Eventually I had to choose my subjects for IGCSE, art I decided would be one of them. Yet, as the new year began, I quickly lost interest in the class. There were too many rules. I found myself being forced to complete self portraits and case studies, tasks I found particularly draining, and ultimately not worth my time.

I switched subjects, to Design and Technology, leaving behind the rules and constraints I hated with a passion. This was not much better, but as the end of Year 10 drew to a close I found out I would be moving to Singapore and would not be completing my IGCSE's altogether.

A different country, a different school system. As I entered the Foundation International Baccalaureate I was told that I could only choose one creative subject. I chose drama, another passion I had picked up on my international journey. And so, I didn't draw for at least a year. I was busy. Making friends, trying to find myself in a grade of 230 kids. It was not until I went through a series of mental health issues that I picked up a pencil again. At this point in time, I had trouble explaining what was going on in my head. Unable to form my own words or thoughts, the only way to show what I was hearing and seeing was to draw. These drawings I kept to myself, they became a release and the source of my solitude.

You would think that after my recovery, I would appreciate and delve back into my artistic beginnings. Instead, I pushed my self away. It was not until the summer following my graduation that I began to draw. My parents similarly to when I was a child encouraged me, telling me over and over again to draw and write and follow my creative vision.

In the end I drew. Again, not for myself but for my then boyfriend. I complied several months work into a book, over 50 drawings, ranging from the dark and twisted to cute and fluffy. This I gave away, a choice I would regret a year later. As my life at university began, the constraints and rules I so hated in school were non existent. Here I had the freedom to shape essays around my passions and curiosities. Before I was told not to break the rules, here I was told to bend them. With this freedom, I was able to find the confidence to draw and paint and write. I moved away from the dark monotone art I had once found release in, and for the first time used colour.

Quite unplanned I had come full circle, back to my artistic beginnings.