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Common App Personal Essay

The author describes their early experiences with art from childhood through high school. As a young child, they found joy and escape in drawing with crayons at their desk. In art class, their teacher criticized their drawing of an orange for not following instructions. This led them to realize they loved art's capacity for uninhibited expression. In high school, art became more of a burden due to social and academic demands. However, through designing cards for canteen workers as part of a service project, the author found new meaning and fulfillment in using art to bring happiness to others. They now find purpose and joy in sharing drawings to uplift those in need.

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39 views2 pages

Common App Personal Essay

The author describes their early experiences with art from childhood through high school. As a young child, they found joy and escape in drawing with crayons at their desk. In art class, their teacher criticized their drawing of an orange for not following instructions. This led them to realize they loved art's capacity for uninhibited expression. In high school, art became more of a burden due to social and academic demands. However, through designing cards for canteen workers as part of a service project, the author found new meaning and fulfillment in using art to bring happiness to others. They now find purpose and joy in sharing drawings to uplift those in need.

Uploaded by

pokemonattack
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Common App Personal Essay

My story begins at about the age of two, when my parents vowed to restore the once pristine
living room walls ---- marred with crayon streaks and haphazard doodles ---- to their former glory.

A stack of clean paper was placed on my shabby wooden desk, upon which were pencils,
tinted charcoal, and my beloved crayons. This modest setup was no professional art studio, but within
its limited confines, illuminated by the first fingers of dawn and sustained by a humble lamp after
dusk, I found my safe haven. I cannot tell you exactly what my first drawing was, but I’m certain it
turned out like most others ---- a potpourri of misshapen polygons and stick figures. It wasn’t always
pretty and nice. But I discovered my bridge to Terabithia, where I could express the world like I
wanted, and where time ceased to exist.

My earliest drawing in recent memory was that of an orange, placed in my school’s dark
studio as a still life reference for art class. Fuelled by dissatisfaction with the rigid depictions we were
taught to imitate, and a racing pulse, I took matters into my own hands. Depth, tonality, and contrast
blended to create a vibrant medley of shades that lay on the border between familiarity and novelty. It
was my aesthetic ideal, both emulating and diverging from reality: the unassuming fruit before me.

“No, no, you’re not listening! Don’t just draw anything you want and do as I say!” Snatching
my pencil away, my teacher, horrified at my imperviousness to his instruction, gasped, “What an ugly
mess!”

I no longer remember the ensuing events, for what followed was an irrepressible flurry of
tears. Growing up, I had known art as the purest manifestation of my creative impulses, and an avenue
for my most heartfelt outpourings. There were no adoring crowds, but I thrived on artistic freedom. It
wasn’t defiance for the sake of defiance but rather, a daring exploration of my visions, unrestrained by
rules, or conventions. I realised then that what I loved about art was its capacity for uninhibited
expression.

Then, in high school, art became frustrating. My knack for realistic pencil drawings made me
the “art guy”, and that came with social expectations. At school, I was entrusted with banner and
mural designs for class festivities. At home, family gatherings were dreaded times when my relatives
would ask me to draw their portraits. Art felt more like a burden than a respite, something I had to
juggle with my burgeoning academic workload and a plethora of extracurricular commitments.

But joining my school’s Service Learning Council, which encouraged students to be kindness
advocates, changed that. Junior year, having concluded a month-long campaign to raise appreciation
for the canteen vendors who tirelessly prepared meals for the school populace, my teacher proposed
designing cards as parting gifts. And so one afternoon, we distributed the cards I had painstakingly
designed. The first was for the kindly elderly lady from the pastry stall, who was scrubbing dishes at
the sink, when I approached her.

“Oh... what’s this? You drew this yourself? That’s beautiful! Thank you!” she chimed.

Those words afforded me a stirring sense of pride, and fulfilment. While my motivation to
create art was once a childlike sense of satisfaction in expressing myself freely, I realised, from her
smile, how much more happiness I could extend to others, and how much more joy I reaped from
giving.

This newfound meaning to art has spurred me to share my drawings with others, whether it’s
a landscape for the bubbly kids at the nature reserve, or a portrait for the lonely uncle I’ve befriended
at the hospice. I don’t know where I’ll be, or what I’ll do, in the future, but I’ll keep drawing. And
while my niche in the world changes, my love for imagination, freedom of expression, and service to
others will remain constants.

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