As I sat down at the living room table, I racked my brain in search of an idea. My head was swimming with them, but as fast as each one came, I shot it down just as quick. The minutes went by and I grew more and more frustrated. All the art supplies were laid out clearly in front of me: thick but smooth paper, tubes of vibrant paint, paintbrushes in all the sizes you could think of. Yet as I held a pencil in my right hand, I was unsatisfied. My mind began to clutter as I thought of all the homework that was currently piling on top of me and the tests my grade depended on. With a sigh, I placed the pencil down and started putting the paintbrushes back into an old cardboard box.

It wasn’t always this way. At around the age of seven, my mom signed me up for an art class that dealt with almost every medium imaginable. I got to paint vases, sculpt clay, and use pastels on crisp sheets of paper. I looked forward to it each week and my parents and teacher praised me for my work. This was my introduction to the world of art and I welcomed it into my life with open arms.

I eventually started implementing my artistic skills in school. In fifth grade, I made drawings based on each state in America throughout the year. In sixth grade, I spent hours portraying an Egyptian pharaoh for the cover of my packet. It brought me lots of joy at the time. Not only was I doing something I enjoyed, but I was also being praised and getting a good grade in the process. In reality, this was the beginning of the end.

Looking back, I now realize the praise I received from my classmates, teachers, and parents placed pressure on me to always do well. It prevented me from taking any creative paths in fear of failure. This idea was further developed in the constraints of the assignments I was completing. The art had to be what I thought the teacher wanted and any deviation from that was almost asking for a bad grade. The pressure and hours of homework consumed me, leaving me without any desire to paint.

What had once brought me so much joy now filled me with dread.

Even now, I still struggle to abandon those feelings. But sometimes during the summer time, the breeze flows into my room and the ideas flood into my head. I can finally relax and paint anything I wish.