Undergraduate / ESSAY- Cornell Schoolof Architecture [5]

I'm really bad at grammar - anyways, the prompt is :

How does the major you would like to study in the College of Architecture, Art, and Planning match your intellectual, academic, and career interests? Discuss any activities you have engaged in that are relevant to your chosen major.

For a long time, it was the beautiful and thought-provoking exhibits of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum that captivated me. I didn't expect anything to be different when we arrived for a sketching session in DC, certainly not after just 3 days of Arch 150.

The abstract concepts of space were still floating around aimlessly in my head. I had started my subtractive cube project with the vague goal of creating "interesting spaces", without knowing what exactly constituted an "interesting space". The idea of having an organizational strategy, a thesis, didn't click yet. It was a hodge podge of confusion for me, but also a delightful challenge.

Amazingly though, in the three days, my fumblings with architecture had already given me new sight. For a second, the museum seemed to have been completely renovated. Architectural details that were lost to me were suddenly salient. The widening stairs, something that passed me by entirely before, distorted the space. Three gaping rectangles weighted in on the long side of the skewed roof, highlighting the extremely asymmetrical layout. Although the structure never made any impression for me in the past, the space was suddenly dark and chaotic. Perplexed, my Siddhartha moment came when I realized that Freed was evoking the same ideas as the black and white photographs behind the glass. We were the prisoners in the concentration camp.

As I anchored the last piece of chipboard on to my cube, my fingers sticky with clumps of craft glue, I thought about the clarity that came after my visit to DC. Architecture is art, but also structure and reason. There is rationale behind the forms, constraint behind abstraction. Slowly, I began to find direction in my projects, to appreciate the courage of Maya Lin, to understand the visions of Le Corbusier and Venturi. The multidisciplinary nature of architecture bridged the gap between my two greatest passions, art and science. To create architecture, I needed to not only think visually and spatially but also to think critically and analytically. As an architect, I can be both a dreamer and a pragmatist, creative and analytical, whimsical and rational.

Seeing architects in real life at work only strengthened my enthusiasm. During week two of the course, we found ourselves in the clean and modern space of Design Collective, a Baltimore architecture firm. Palatial scale models of real-life projects took up entire rooms while scribbles of blue and red on drafting paper decked the walls. An architect talked about a brewery themed project going on in Texas, which involved getting a taste of beer (to better understand the culture of his site of course!). It was not sedentary work: trips to sites and meetings with clients take architects around the world and communication with landscape architects, urban planners, and interior designers makes the process truly collaborative.

It was a profound feeling when we walked backed out into the street. The firm's Baltimore Visitors Center stood as a ripple of sliver by the harbor. It was strange but remarkable, seeing the actual structure, no longer just a model or drawing. As my eyes darted off into the urban landscape, the overwhelming force, the immeasurable potential of architecture hit me like a brick.

I wanted to be part of the landscape too.

Undergraduate / Common App: Person who has influenced you (Ms.Young) [2]

Indicate a person who has had a significant influence on you, and describe that influence.

Right now this essay doesn't seem very complete - the conclusion needs a bit of work (any way I can tie it back to beginning?) Also, any grammar corrections would be greatly appreciated.

"Why did I get a B on this?" I was staring at my pencil drawing of a giraffe, perfectly proportioned - almost a replica of the real thing.

"You didn't use enough value"
I looked back at the dimly shaded drawing. She was right. I could do better.
That was my first B ever in art.
Before I became her student, there were some serious flaws with the way I approached art. There seemed was common lesson plan among my previous teachers - assign the project, and then leave the students on their own. Everyone gets an A for trying. It worse for me because I had a natural talent for composition and lines. I was almost always left alone. My work was hailed as the best in the class. Not surprisingly, I never improved. I became egotistical. Art was just replication, and I excelled at it.

But the day I walked into my new classroom, I sensed something different about my new art teacher. She had translucent red hair, cropped stylishly short at the shoulders, and a tiny blue jewel embedded in her nose. Although piercings usually repulsed me, I remember wanting one myself. Sparkling under the sunlight that flooded the room, it was pretty, distinctive and artsy. Her voice was elegant. She addressed us with an assuring yet stern tone. I was surprised. She was talking to us like we were capable of many things, like we were more than just a bunch of 10 year olds.

I wasn't wrong. During the first week, she would teach me more than I've had in all the hours, days, and years I've spent in earlier classes. We even had an exam. I discovered that there were complementary colors that you could mix together to get your browns. Cool colors and warm colors with different moods. There was something called tone, value, and space. The letters notched at the end of my sketching pencils had meaning - H's were light, B's were dark. It was intriguing. There were so many subtleties to just a simple line. But it wasn't just a bunch of pointless terminology - it was the basic toolbox for making art. Like the punctuation, words, and paragraphs in a paper, the basics were essential.

It was also a whole way of looking at things. I remember that day when she pointed to the forest green foliage of the oak tree outside the window, asking us to look for the purples, yellows, and reds. The class stared at her in disbelief, but when we looked past the green, it was like magic. In the shadows there really was a tint of purple, of red, and in the sunlit edge there were yellows. For the first time, we were looking through the lens of Monet and Van Gogh.

In our critiques, the class sat around a wall full of artwork, and examined each individual piece one by one, pointing out any improvement that could be made and doling out compliments. Looking back, I'm still amazed at the maturity with which our fourth grade class approached these sessions. We learned to think critically about artwork, and by examining the flaws or successes in the work of others, we improved by bounds. I learned so much in those sessions, yet in my subsequent years, none of my other art teachers ever gave me the same opportunity.

I spent two years other the guidance of Ms.Young, leaving the class with a stack of Bs. In exchange, I matured not only as an artist and as a person. She saw the potential we had and pushed us to reach that potential. We gained confidence, set goals for ourselves, and discovered that the world of art was much deeper than we expected.