I am sitting here thinking of a way to begin my statement. A real opener that would grab the reader’s attention, or rather, something that can pull you in and take you on a literal journey; which I often find rare in modern novels now-a-days. To no avail, I can only think of how amusing my personal history will be for you, because I think gypsies, 18 years of parental separation, and being very fat as a baby to the point where I won an award, is rather uncommon in other people’s history.
Let us start from the beginning involving gypsies. My older brother was born a very sickly child and a constant concern at that. As a tradition for my family, the newborns are taken to a “gypsy” or some form of soothsayer to have their future looked into. To no surprise, my brother’s future looked dim if he stayed in Taiwan, my birth country. Although it is just tradition and a silly superstitious ritual, my mother did not like the outcome. When I was born, I was healthier than any other baby, the most obese to be more specific. Being the largest and happiest kid, I was awarded the Top Ten Healthiest Baby Competition in all of Taipei, and along with the inscribed plaque, months and months of free milk. My brother’s future still bothered my mother even after I was born. Coincidentally, my aunt came back from The United States to tell her family and relatives that she will be starting a new life in the great U.S.A. The solution for my brother’s superstitious doom was at hand. Decisions were made and a year later, my brother and I were on a new adventure to America. My parents stayed behind to run their company. Being only three years old I never really questioned the absence of my parents, I lived each day as a free caring child reenacting scenes from my favorite movies at the time by drawing on the bottom of wooden chairs around the house. Perhaps, the subtle artistic influence came from a part of my mind so that any thoughts of my parents would be rejected my images of my favored movies to prevent any emotional outbursts. Whatever it is, the urge to “doodle” became stronger. In school, I would draw dragons for my friends and make things out of origami because it took my mind off of everything other than the intricate lines of each dragon or folds of each flower I made.
My interest in art was only a hobby at the time, and it was still considered a hobby through most of my grade school career. In fact, I never considered studying art until I enrolled the only university that sent me to a regional campus (I have no idea what invoked me to make that decision at the time but I am grateful for it), and took Art 205 Beginning Drawing. I find it quite humorous that this three hour studio class, which the majority of students whined and moaned about, was the very spark of influence that allowed me to decide on my major.
Obviously this statement is far from the allotted format but I am going to continue anyway. I think it is safe to say the question of why I am applying to this particular emphasis is rather silly. It is really just the next step to complete our collegiate degree. An artist rarely sticks with only the emphasis he/she is studying in, and I am not going to sweeten up this whole paragraph about how enthralled I am with this specific emphasis and the class they offer, because even though that is true, I am interested in all forms of art, minus photography (I do not enjoy the process photography but I do enjoy the results). If I had a choice, I would apply and study in all emphasis offered in The Ohio State University, but sadly that is not possible.
As far as my strengths and challenges go, I have no strengths. That is why I am studying fine arts; to strengthen what I lack artistically. The most painstaking challenge is the time constraint placed around my neck. I find it extremely hard to create anything worthwhile with the time given by each professor. It is not their fault, but only the fault of our quarterly school system. It chokes me every time knowing that I have to finish complete a brilliant idea in just two weeks. I can also talk about how I struggle with ideas, form, shape, color, material, etc. But there is nothing new there. Who doesn’t struggle with the basics of art?