The Final Revision

Kate Denhoff

Picture Narrative

I walked down the stairs grasping the rail tightly, I was tense. I turned left assuming he was in his study. He sat there reading some papers probably from the firm or about some case. I opened the door unable to speak, and simply put the paper on the desk in front of him. He read, said nothing then finally.”If you choose, to attend this institution you will be paying for it yourself because, I do not approve.”

 But to his surprise I finished at the top of my class with one of my art pieces in a small gallery. Getting job offers and getting introduced to chalk. So here I am. This is my story;

It’s April 3^rd, on the banks of Lake Michigan. My names Eric and I’m a sidewalk artist. Now you look at me and you think I’m a scrub, I know. I can tell what you’re thinking you’re looking at me in my work boots and my roughed up jeans with a T-shirt on. But really you shouldn’t make assumptions about a person you don’t know, I went to the Art Institute in New York City and my father is a top lawyer for celebrities out in Hollywood. I’m rich, extremely wealthy. And I love to draw, paint, and chalk all of it. It’s my passion. But you see he is disappointed in me and has been my whole life. You know, I’m the only child, spoiled type of son who was raised to be another lawyer in the firm that was created for me to be successful.

 That’s not really how it went though.  I loved my crayons in Kindergarten, not my ABC book. Elementary schools it was the marker phase, not 2+2=4. Then we moved up to middle school, most kids were learning about the solar system and US History, I took extra art classes and was introduced to chalk. But middle school was mostly the color pencil stage. Using fade dimensions, and the eraser and all new things that brought into a new world of art. But then high school came. Now my father expected me to be in Advanced Placement classes and really buckle down, I was expected to get into Harvard Play at least two varsity sports… that didn’t happen though. That’s when the trouble started. He made me try out for football and baseball epic fail on both of them because I was late finishing up my first painting on canvas in the art room. Robert (my father) was disappointed but just said it will all be okay join some clubs and work work work on homework.  I spent my lunch period, sketching. I went up into my room at night and painted while my dad thought I was studying Physics. So you get the point I had a passion for art.  Straight A’s in art just not in the classes he approved of. My mother defended me to a certain point would never really stand up to him. She was probably busy buying Gucci purses online and a new outfit for their dinner party next week. I was happy though besides his disappoint and furry. I was doing what I loved and making friends doing it friends that appreciate what makes me happy. Art.

So I continued my passion. It was the beginning of senior, I didn’t score as well as I… I mean my father had hope on the SAT’s but that’s okay cause I had a huge envelope on my desk in my art filled room, from the Art Institute in New York City. They have been talking to me non stop. I shook, it’s been sitting there for three days and seventeen hours. I was ready, I sat there. My application and examples of arty that I sent to them was good enough at least I think and this year I was president of the art club which I let them know in my essay. Three…Two…One…, I tore open the heavy weighted envelope that’s been glaring at me for days. I got accepted. The biggest grin came upon my face. But let me tell you that’s not only it. I started shaking again not with nervousness, but with proud, exciting joy. The words we have decided to give you a donation due to your excellent and outstanding performance in the art community.  Joy ran through my body. This was the hard part though, telling my father.

I simply walked away snatching the paper. If that was my only choice then I was going to do it. Student loans, scholarships, resident assistants there are many ways of getting through the financial aspects of college. Even though he is extremely wealthy and can pay up front for my first right now. I was depressed and my next piece reflected it. A homeless man sitting alone with no one there to talked to. My mother had nothing to say to me other than congratulations but your father has made up blah blah blah all that bullcrap. But that’s okay this is my passion and I went to the art institute.

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            I finished at the top of my class with one of my art pieces in a small gallery. Proud and read to begin my life. My mother and father attended my graduation but that was it. I was on my own, living in New York City and going to be an up and coming artist. I had my own apartment, still frustrated with my father. I let it go. The recession hit me hard. I had student loans and not a job. I started to explore the world of pastels and chalk once again. And became amazed at what happened with all different kinds of things you could do. I practiced on the pavement outside my apartment when one day. An older man walked by. Who what of thought that this man would basically change my life? He came up and explained how he loved my work and he was a principal at the local high school. He wanted me to chalk outside of the school. The budget was tight and said he couldn’t pay me. I had nothing to lose. I started the next week because it was spring break for the kids I had one week to finish. I did the school name and the mascot of a tiger jumping through the letters .I was proud and he appreciated it so much. What I didn’t know is that this volunteer project was the beginning of a career. The local paper came and took pictures and wrote an article on my work. Soon the City wide paper had my work and name in it. My name and email address was posted. All of sudden every time I checked my e-mail I would have 23 messages of praise and excitement towards my work. That’s not it. I got job offers and all new places to chalk. So I invested in a brand new chalk set and bought an appointment and began calling people back. They sent me designs they wanted so I could already start picturing what to do. I was bringing in the money not a lot but I finally had something I could look forward to do with my art. Then the job offers kept coming. More articles, interviews and before I knew it my name was known.

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            This job never stopped. I loved it and was traveling across the nation to chalk. I finally told my parents after a year and my father played back student loans and finally accepted that I was doing something that I loved and made money doing it. I was more known than him. So my best is advice is believed in your passion and does whatever it takes.

I took your advice in grabbing the rader and adding a flashback I think this is a paper that has a lot of potentional. Thank you very much.