Forgiving Emily Carr – Reflections on Graduation

Image by kalhh from Pixabay

Each year, near graduation time, I think of Emily Carr. Why? Because Emily Carr rejected me on the eve of my high school graduation. 

Obviously, it wasn't her personally, but the school named after her did. I was devastated. I had given up so much to pursue her appreciation and acceptance, only to be delivered the bad news on the night of my high school graduation. I was stunned. I walked through the evening in a daze, replaying the interview process through my mind. What did I do wrong? What did I say? Why don't they like me?

The fact is that I shouldn't have been too surprised. The two faculty members who interviewed me were less than enthusiastic. They said my work was rigid and my style too technical compared to my competitors. I recall a classmate who got accepted had a portfolio filled with pictures made with a can of spray paint and coat hangers as stencils. He called one Penguins on the Fourth of July. He got in. My portfolio had ballerinas, children in poverty and landscape paintings. Could they not see my depth, compassion and soul? It was there in every pencil's stroke and every colour's reflection.

I had dedicated four years of my young life to art. I lived through elementary school when my mind struggled with all those left-brained tasks. From Grades 8-12, I was officially on the artist's path. My teachers believed in my talent and suggested to my parents that I focus on drawing, painting, printmaking, and photography. Although not artsy folks themselves, Mom and Dad could see that was where I belonged. They let me take the basics of math, science and French, so I was a well-rounded student, but they never pushed me too hard down the "you need to make a living" path.

So, what made me so rigid and technical? Well, it was my elementary school mindset. I thought my struggles with anything that didn't involve a sketch pad meant something was wrong with me. I seemed to live in a different world than everyone else. I was too sensitive. I was too shy, but I desperately wanted to be accepted like most. I struggled with the different points of view, and my mind jumped, too. The images I picked out of the blue. I had a strong need to express something meaningful to the world, but I didn't have the words to do it. Those would come later in life.

It's funny how life is sometimes. I moved on to Langara College's Fine Arts program, where they embraced me openly. My interviewer opened my portfolio, saw the scholarship and awards I had won, closed it and said, "You're in." His quick decision startled me, and seeing the confusion on his face, he explained that my commitment was evident and he didn't need any more than that (although he did look at the contents with equal enthusiasm). But the sting of rejection was too much. Everything I did in those 2 years never seemed good enough. The filter of failure robbed me of feeling connected to my creations.

That never good enough has haunted me since then. Although I have had artistic successes, I've never fully dedicated myself or appreciated that aspect of life. I have mostly morphed my talents into different careers to produce creations for others, but I'm frustrated at not having my artistic visions come to life. 

I discovered I was not alone when I shared this story with a friend. She, too, was told not to pursue her writing, and, like me, many years later, she is creating a new life and a new vision of herself. It's never too late to take a new direction.

So, if you know a new grad or are revitalizing your own life, don't take the perceptions and judgments of others to heart. They don't know who you are or who you need to be in this world. If you've delayed expressing yourself, don't beat yourself up. Just start now. Start with what you can. Plant your seeds and tend to your talent. That's what I intend to do.

Oh yeah, Emily, you're forgiven.