Stephie Jezebel Rowe, Artist

My Art Journey
Everyone during their adolescence has been asked the question of what are you going to do for your future? For me, I’ve tried for the longest time to avoid this question. I’m not sure what I wanted to do for my future.

During my 10th standard, my guidance counselor asked this question to me. It petrified me. I was this weird girl, who barely knew how to find x in algebra where, let alone what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I didn’t even know what I was having for dinner that night, how was I supposed to plan out what I did for the rest of my life?

I was the type of person who went with the motions of life. Pass classes, to pass this year, pass this year to get into new classes, pass that year, etc. I never actually sat back and thought about what I wanted to do. I knew that I have to go college because that is the normal for after high school. What I would do in said college? I had no idea.

I was an extremely shy child within her bubble. I had my cousins and only had a couple of friends and never really ventured out to make new friends. Through my cousin brother I was introduced graffiti. This was how I got into drawing.The first couple drawings, as you would expect, were terrible. I thought I was never going to become a good artist, but, for some reason, I kept trying. I felt through drawing I was expression those in built emotions, fears on a piece of paper through art. So I looked up drawings from other people and I was training my eyes to pick up details, without even realising at the time.

As time went on, there was no fuel to keep that fire burning in me. My drawing spark had been put out, I was having a creativity blockage. I was miserable. Including that and the fact I had to focus on work and responsibility at a young age completely stopped me from doing what I had loved. The things that had given me passion.I went through a withdrawal .I was frustrated because I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to draw, as well as the pressure of not being a good artist, put weights on my shoulders.

Thankfully, the nudge from that person who holds a special place in my heart, the spark that I had held so dear to me had finally came back. It brought back that fierceness to look at the simple things in life and be inspired. No more looking up at things to sketch, my emotions, fears, insecurities became my every bit of inspiration. All this challenged me, and allowed me to pick up painting skills. I became a little bit more outgoing. I could actually say what I had wanted to say, and did not brush myself into a dark corner, segregating myself from the others.

Certain times they were people who did they best to burn out this fire saying “there was no pleasure in my art”. Even though negativity crept up on me, I would always think about the things I’ve held dear to me. My parents cousins and those real friends, always pushed me to being better. I didn’t want to become one of those poor souls who keeps getting knocked down and giving up. Art helped me beat all odds and stand tall. With this passion I was given an opportunity to help disabled kids as an Art therapy teacher. This opened my world to a whole new level, life no longer became dreadful.

For the first time, in a long time, I am sure about what I wanted to do for my future. I no longer avoid the pointennent question of what I am doing for my future. I know for sure, for myself that I want to become an artist.

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