“I have been doing this longer than you have been alive. I went to school for years to do this. That’s who I am,” declared the art teacher following my questioning of the red “F” on my self-portrait assignment. Art, creativity, and even the way we see things differ from one person to the next. There is no absolute right or wrong way. That’s the beauty of life—art is not clear-cut.

Just transferring high schools my sophomore year, I felt like a giant, red, oozing zit on Screech Powers’ face. I was the completely odd person out with my colorful hair, eccentric makeup, all black wardrobe, and more jewelry on myself than in a jewelry store. Everyone around me was plain and boring, no excitement to the eye what so ever. With no individuality, the monotone and lifeless halls were like a scene from a prison movie. How can a building so big and crowded with hundreds of teenagers be so bland and vanilla? The whole predicament left me feeling uneasy and wanting to flee the campus; that is until second hour when I walked into art class.The room was huge with concrete floors stained with the remnants of creativity, colorful and splattered with leftover inspiration. Walls covered in eye-catching dramatic paintings. I could smell the chalk, musty stale water and paint lingering in the cool air, I knew this would be my safe haven. This year was not going to be as horrible as I anticipated it to be an hour before. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, I heard the sound of high heels clicking on the hard floor as they walked up behind me. Turning around, I saw the oh-so-beautiful fair skin, black hair, and lips redder than fresh blood all belonging to a good friend from my old school, Alyssa. Yes, finally some creative stimulation in this place.

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Art is being able to unleash your creative, raw being and imprinting yourself into whatever piece you may be working on.There is no right or wrong way. There is no limit on what …

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