Auntie SparkNotes: Am I Just Not Cut Out for Art?

Dear, Auntie,

I have a program in my school called performing arts, which is a program designed to help kids that are talented in the arts, like theater, voice, band, dance, visual arts, etc., get better at what they do.

I am in middle school, and I have only taken one year of art, and my art teacher had already requested that I audition for art in performing arts, which can say a lot if you are the only person in the class that had gotten requested by the teacher. This really made me happy, because I have always wanted a career in art.

I was really motivated, so I decided to go if the teacher thought that I was good enough. The auditions came up later, and I ultimately sucked. Everybody had drawings and paintings that were beautiful, and they looked like they could only be done by Leonardo Da Vinci. To add to that, my teacher was one of the judges. But, as I was discouraged after the auditions, I could only think one thing: if my teacher requested that I go, doesn’t that mean she wants me in performing arts?

More than a few days had gone by, and the results came in to who got in performing arts. As you can probably predict, my name wasn’t up there. It really hurt me. Thinking logically, I thought that I didn’t get in because the people that did get in had more experience than me. Unfortunately, this girl which we can call Pamela had told me that she had her first year of art class too, but she got in performing arts without a hitch.

Ever since those results came in, I have been depressed. I feel like I am not meant to be an artist or anything related to that. I have felt like I am not worthy to walk into an art class, like I am not meant to be there. Every time I think about anything related to it, I start to cry. Is it me? or am I just not cut out for this?

Oh, Sparkler. For starters, give yourself a break, okay? You’ve just gotten off an emotional rollercoaster that ended with an absolutely epic letdown. Of course you’re feeling wounded, and of course you’re questioning yourself.

But sweet pea, let me ask you: Have you thought about what kind of world we would live in, if every artist who didn’t earn acceptance on their first try had decided they weren’t worthy and called it quits?

Because man, that world would be awful. There would be no Starry Night hanging in the Museum of Modern Art; you wouldn’t be able to find the work of Keats or Kafka in your library. Alan Rickman would never have played Professor Snape onscreen (he didn’t successfully break into acting until he was in his early 40s), and for that matter, Professor Snape wouldn’t even exist, because J.K. Rowling’s first book was rejected by publishers not just once, but twelve times.

None of which is to say that you’re the second coming of Vincent Van Gogh (which I personally hope you are not, in truth, because as much as he was a brilliant painter, he was also a miserable, self-mutilating alcoholic who died penniless, alone, and with half the usual number of ears.) The point is just this: Your failure to get into one program, one time, based on one audition, does not mean that you must heretofore spend the rest of your life in the Prison of Unworthy Suckitude, where you will be closely guarded at all times to make sure you never try to make another piece of art with your fat, untalented fingers. It doesn’t mean you’re not meant to be an artist; it certainly doesn’t mean that you aren’t worthy to keep working at it. Your teacher invited you to try out for the program because she saw promise in your work, and her opinion doesn’t stop being meaningful just because you didn’t wow ’em on your first try. You would not have been asked to that party if you didn’t deserve to be there, and that’s something you get to be proud of irrespective of how it all turned out.

In fact, your not being picked for Performing Arts means just one thing: That based on the work you showed on this day, at this audition, according to the opinions of a very small number of people, you weren’t a good fit for this one particular program. Not forever, but for right now.

That’s a lot of variables, Sparkler, and some of them will have invariably changed by the time you take your next shot at it—which I really hope you will, by the way. And if you don’t make it in, I hope you’ll try again. And I hope you get every last bit of credit and recognition that you deserve, but even if you don’t, I hope you’ll keep creating anyway, for no other reason than that it’s what you love. Because that’s arguably the mark of a true artist: not talent, but persistence. Artists don’t need permission or encouragement to pick up a pen or a brush, to put notes or words or poetry on a page. They just do it. They are driven to do it. Are you? I bet you are.

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