(14, NY, USA) Anonymous - Nostalgia

From a young age I had shown a considerable amount of interest in the different mediums of art. Whether it was using pastels, drawing or painting, it was a form of relief. A lifting off my shoulders. As a young child I had never really exemplified intelligence or studies hard, so I converted to craft and technique. It was fourth grade, I had just gotten some new colored pencils to mess around with and the smell of shaved cedar-wood and summer surrounded me. The crisp edge of the pencil doused my page with the smooth pigment of color. I wasn’t particular good, but that didn’t matter at the time, all that mattered was that the colors spread out on the page were alive. I was alive. Fast forward to sixth grade, I began painting more frequently. I found that it helped me when I were resentful or stressed. Expressing my emotions instead of punching a hole in the wall. I used my artistic abilities to paint for Christmas gifts, birthdays, my uncles tattoo design, etc. My sketchbooks were filled to the brim with my silly ideas and silly dreams of becoming something big one day. Someone I could be proud of. I developed a dream of being a graphic designer because it included everything I loved; drawing and using creativity to represent myself. By seventh grade my focus traveled to other tasks, for example, my grades. My grades were autocratic, my top priority. I was at the point where a B+ was not good enough. No time for painting or drawing. I put myself into this lackadaisical mindset where ‘painting won’t get me anywhere in life’ . I ended up ditching the idea of becoming a graphic designer. I liked the idea of becoming a radiologist instead. When I picked up a colored pencil and sketchbook for the first time in ninth grade everything came back to me. That one time I painted my mother and father together or that other time I drew my cousins new-born baby. Nostalgia hit the ground running, and in that moment I knew why I took up art in the first place.