Art's Chokehold

by Alexia Romaniuc 

Cave painting, c. 16,000 BCE

Art is something that I have always been drawn to ever since I was little: in some sense, I think art has been a part of my life ever since I gained consciousness. As a child, I’d be competitive when it came to painting and drawing: I always had to be the best. In fact, I still remember the one sided competition that I would have with a boy in primary school who was particularly talented when it came to producing something in art lessons. The memory of jealousy mixed with passion is something I vividly recall feeling when I’d get a nod of approval from my ‘art’ teacher (who was actually my literacy teacher) whereas the boy would get a nod of approval accompanied by an enthusiastic “Very good!”. Debatably, none of this should have affected my little growing heart, especially since my teacher had a qualification in something to do with literature and often wrote poems (a different kind of art) in her spare time rather than paint great masterpieces. But art is what you interpret it to be, and I always saw mine as something that is one step off from being “Very good!” worthy. Despite the challenges of competitiveness and insecurity, I persisted. 

Art continued to occupy a large part of my mind. I see shapes when I look at faces - premature sketches waiting to be transferred onto paper. Every time I look into someone’s eyes, I can't stop myself from attempting to recreate the colour of their irises using my imaginary palette of acrylic paint. I lose track of the conversation topic because I’m measuring to see if the inner corner of their eyes line up with the corners of their mouth. I’m constantly drawing even if my pencil hasn’t touched paper in months. Therefore, of course I feel frustrated when I have no choice but to cast my abilities aside and limit them to being something that I can channel once a week as a ‘hobby’. The grip that art has on someone who is artistic is unfathomable: it cannot be understood unless it is experienced. 

In secondary school, I had made my first choice which would further engage my interest in art alongside academic subjects. Art was obviously something that was viewed very differently from other subjects such as Maths - this was instilled in me by my teachers. Even my art teacher failed to convince me otherwise. I didn’t know that this was something that subconsciously frustrated me to the point where I’d feel invalidated and I would doubt my abilities even after only receiving positive feedback. I would even go as far as saying that I still somewhat feel this way. Despite the discouragement, Art and I persevered. 

I was encouraged to pursue Biology and Chemistry even though they were subjects that drained me and required me to study more than the average person would. Art and I would be forced to enter a long distance relationship since it wasn’t in my ‘best interests’ to do art at A level. I remember the turning point in my 2021 summer holidays; my parents and I compromised. This was a revolutionary concept: my passion was finally, inevitably being acknowledged after I had already convinced myself that I would have to limit art to being a hobby. 

Someone recently told me that art isn’t a real subject. Is this a debatable topic? Attitudes like this are counterproductive and limit people's perception of worth and success. I will admit that I gave into this mindset for a while before I re-evaluated the pupil’s bold, uncalculated comment. Architecture is an art form which is used to sometimes create buildings (such as the school we currently attend). The very building that we are privileged enough to be sheltered in would have required some form of design or plan before it was built. Therefore, without ‘art’, our education would be very different. We NEED art! I criticised the pupil and moved on. 

As of right now, I am not planning to pursue art further than A-level. Ironically, it will become a hobby for when I leave college and predictably go to University to study an academic subject. Although art isn’t in my future plans of a job or career, I know that I subconsciously manifest knots which tie Art and Alexia together. I know it from the constant presence of remnants of oil paint or charcoal that cling to my hands whilst I write my Philosophy essay or my English Literature poem analysis. I know it from the calmness that I feel whilst painting. Art’s grip on me can’t and won’t weaken.