EMBRACED BY THE ART WORLD

The day has finally arrived. I stepped into the art school Silver Academy, and I was immediately captivated by the artwork that graced the walls. Oil paintings with vibrant hues and sculptures with intricate details were on display, creating a masterpiece of its own. There were students in the hallways, some chatting, some in deep conversations, but all of them filled with enthusiasm and excitement.

My steps echoed off the walls of the studio as I nervously approached the large wooden door. Taking a deep breath, I opened it and was welcomed by bright lights, warmth, and an array of creative conversations. Everyone seemed to be in their own world, mixing pigments, painting, and sculpting.

“Welcome!” my instructor said with a twinkle in her eye. I sensed her expectant energy as she embraced me warmly. “This is your space to explore and create,” she went on.

“Class, may I have your attention?” she asked, and everyone turned their heads towards her. “This is our new student...what was your name again?” She looked down at me, and I felt my face flush as I replied, “Alivia.”

“Welcome Alivia!” A chorus of voices called out and they began introducing themselves.

I suddenly felt very shy as I tried to absorb all of their names.

My gaze landed on a girl with short, wispy brown hair tucked behind a pair of small earrings. Her eyes were like pools of melted chocolate, and her lips were stretched in an inviting smile. She was wearing a flowy dress, the fabric a mélange of blues and greens, and her hands were smeared with bright swathes of paint. I made my way over, and as I took the seat next to her, her paint brush paused in mid-air. She turned to me and smiled warmly.

“Hi, I’m Jess,” she said.

“Hi, I’m Alivia,” I replied, taking in a calming breath to quell the butterflies in my stomach.

“So, where are you from?” Her dark eyes were lit with anticipation as she awaited my response.

“I’m from a small town in the countryside,” I answered hesitantly. “What about you?”

“I grew up in the city,” she said with a grin, her voice uncovering a love for art and culture that fuelled her desire to study here. “But I always knew that I wanted to be an artist.”

“That’s amazing,” I said, feeling a pang of envy. “I always knew I wanted to be an artist too, but I never had the opportunity to study in a place like this until now.”

“Well, you’re here now,” she said with an encouraging smile. “And from what I can see, you are already talented. I can’t wait to see what you’ll create while you’re here.”

Her vote of confidence warmed my heart and helped ease my nerves. “Thanks, Jess. I’m looking forward to learning and growing here,” I said with a newfound enthusiasm.

We made our way to our next class together, chatting about our backgrounds and interests as we walked down the hallway. We discovered that although we had different upbringings, we both shared a passion for art and exploring new techniques and styles.

“Your work is really impressive,” Jess said, her face glowing with admiration. “I love the way you incorporate bold colours into your paintings.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling a warmth in my chest. “I’ve always been drawn to bright and vibrant colours. I think they have a way of conveying emotions and moods in a much more powerful way than traditional tones.”

Jess nodded, her eyes widening with enthusiasm. “I completely agree. That’s why I’m so passionate about working with mixed media. It allows me to experiment with different textures and materials that can really bring a piece to life.”

As we entered the next classroom, an older man welcomed us with a smile. “Hi, I’m Mr. Jenkins, please take your seats.”

We introduced ourselves and quickly settled into the class. Despite its demands, I couldn’t help but feel excited about the prospect of sculpting. I grabbed a block of clay and felt something special – the sensation of crafting something out of nothing.


“You’re really good at this,” I said to Jess, watching her create intricate details with the clay. It was truly a sight to behold – she was able to turn a block of clay into a beautiful work of art.

As Mr Jenkins walked around the room and observed our progress, he paused at our desks. He studied Jess’s bust of a female figure; it was abstract in style with flowing curves and exaggerated features that conveyed the subject’s strong personality and unique spirit. He then looked at my still life of a basket of fruits; I had tried to capture every intricate detail, every subtle contrast between smooth surfaces and bumpy textures. With a small smile, he looked up at me and said, “Alivia, would you please see me after class?”

I nodded nervously and replied,

“Yes sir.”

I nervously tapped my foot as the bell rang, signalling the end of class. As the other students filed out of the room, I slowly made my way to the front and stood before Mr. Jenkins. He was a tall man, his face framed by a thick, neatly trimmed beard. He folded his hands together and cleared his throat.

“Alivia, I wanted to talk to you about your still life,” he said. “It’s impressive, and you obviously put a lot of effort into it.” He glanced up from the canvas he was studying. “But what I am wondering is, what inspired you to choose a basket of fruit? What made this particular subject matter so appealing?”

“I wanted to challenge myself to capture the details of each individual fruit and its unique textures,” I said.

“That’s great,” he said with a nod. “But it’s also important for an artist to have an emotional connection to their work, so that your pieces don’t just become exercises in technical skill.” His eyebrows furrowed and he tapped his chin with his finger in thought. “Think about what motivates you, Alivia—what speaks to your heart as an artist? Find a subject matter that resonates with you on a personal level.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a newfound sense of excitement swell inside me.

“I will,” I said confidently.

Mr. Jenkins smiled warmly and clapped his hands together. “Good. Remember, you are capable of creating some stunning artwork if you focus your energy in the right direction.” He leaned back in his chair and looked me up and down with a proud gaze. “I have high expectations for you, Alivia. Now go forth and create something beautiful.”

Mr. Jenkins’ words of encouragement still echoed in my ears as I gathered my things from the studio and I made my way to my next class, where I was welcomed by more enthusiastic and talented students. Every conversation was filled with enthusiasm and each one brimming with ideas. I felt like I truly belonged in this community of artists.

After a long day, I returned to my dorm room where I lay on my bed feeling inspired yet anxious. Despite the joy that being at art school had brought me, I was still struggling financially. That money I had taken from the stranger at the bar only covered my basic necessities for this month. I had to find a job soon if I wanted to continue to stay in school. Overwhelmed with emotions, I closed my eyes and let sleep take over.