Here is the essay.
I used to have no patience with novels (and by extension, the arts) and thought that their only audiences were those sentimental people, who had too much free time in their hands to weep for fictional people with whom they had no business with whatsoever. It was expected of a boy who had hitherto been raised with his parents' prejudices against artists, not uncommon among Vietnamese people in that developmental stage of the country. These took the form of backhanded compliments employed by them in their various encounters with "amateurs"-their generic name for persons who did not study science. It was unexpected that I have taken an interest in the arts.
My original distaste for the arts was almost strengthened after my first endeavor to understand them, if not for my addiction to the internet. My experience with Wuthering Heights, a literary classic, was a total failure, as I grew weary of the long text, the ridiculous proclaimations of love and Joseph's gibberish. Looking through the internet to find scathing Wuthering Heights reviews that would justify my boredom, I found myself err in the opposite direction. Apparently, the pain and anguish portrayed in the book have intrigued millions of people around the world. I was fascinated by the emotional impact it has on past readers, and was equally amazed by how such a simple plot could be effectively harnessed to embody complex themes, if literary analysis on Sparksnotes was to be trusted. I read the book the second time, being certain that if "amateurs" could "get" arts, there was no reason I, who had won various prizes in science in Vietnam, could
not. I did not.
While it was mortifying to my vanity, it also whetted my appetite for the arts. I started to long for that exquisite moment when I could revel in the warm and rich atmosphere only a piece of art could produce. In my efforts to get arts, I began to read professional reviews of those art stuffs that I used to watch solely for amusement, but the result was disappointing. I rewatched "The Bench", widely praised as the finest and most emotional contemporary piece on So You Think You Can Dance, and did not feel anything except admiration for the precision the dancers executed their moves. I knew this particular movie angle in American Beauty, with Kevin Spacey's face reflected in a computer screen filled with columns, was used to evoke the theme of imprisonment, but of which I could not sense. I was scared that years of training had hardened my heart into a rock. I was reminded of The Age of Innocence's May Welland, whose future husband compared her inability to speak her own voice, to "the Kentucky cave-fish, which had ceased to develop eyes because they had no use for them". It was indeed a dreadful fate.
I was about to give up when an incident changed my entire understanding of the arts. One day, I was looking at the speeding cars on the road below from an overpass when suddenly something hit my mind. I was five, looking at the car toy in toyshop's window and wondering how happy I could be having enough money to buy all the toys in the world. I was ten, sitting next to my uncle, a doctor, in his car (very few in Vietnam had a car at the time) and dreaming to become a doctor. I was eighteen, realizing that a career as a doctor may bring me a life of prosperity but not happiness, as my actual interest lied in the arts. I was surprised by the emotional reaction I had to that scenery, then it all dawned on me. To comprehend arts on the emotional level, one needs to have life experiences that would bridge the boundary between fact and imagination. Therefore, I set off on my new quest: to gain as many life experiences as possible.
I know my time on earth is limited. I know there are certain experiences I will never be able to go through, like the feeling of a child from a broken home. That was why I partook of teaching underprivileged kids, because to be there when they talked reluctantly about their families, when their lips quivered uncertainly and their eyes glared fiercely is a powerful experience in itself. I have tried my best to understand arts, and I am contented. (735 words)
Thank you so much:)
I used to have no patience with novels (and by extension, the arts) and thought that their only audiences were those sentimental people, who had too much free time in their hands to weep for fictional people with whom they had no business with whatsoever. It was expected of a boy who had hitherto been raised with his parents' prejudices against artists, not uncommon among Vietnamese people in that developmental stage of the country. These took the form of backhanded compliments employed by them in their various encounters with "amateurs"-their generic name for persons who did not study science. It was unexpected that I have taken an interest in the arts.
My original distaste for the arts was almost strengthened after my first endeavor to understand them, if not for my addiction to the internet. My experience with Wuthering Heights, a literary classic, was a total failure, as I grew weary of the long text, the ridiculous proclaimations of love and Joseph's gibberish. Looking through the internet to find scathing Wuthering Heights reviews that would justify my boredom, I found myself err in the opposite direction. Apparently, the pain and anguish portrayed in the book have intrigued millions of people around the world. I was fascinated by the emotional impact it has on past readers, and was equally amazed by how such a simple plot could be effectively harnessed to embody complex themes, if literary analysis on Sparksnotes was to be trusted. I read the book the second time, being certain that if "amateurs" could "get" arts, there was no reason I, who had won various prizes in science in Vietnam, could
not. I did not.
While it was mortifying to my vanity, it also whetted my appetite for the arts. I started to long for that exquisite moment when I could revel in the warm and rich atmosphere only a piece of art could produce. In my efforts to get arts, I began to read professional reviews of those art stuffs that I used to watch solely for amusement, but the result was disappointing. I rewatched "The Bench", widely praised as the finest and most emotional contemporary piece on So You Think You Can Dance, and did not feel anything except admiration for the precision the dancers executed their moves. I knew this particular movie angle in American Beauty, with Kevin Spacey's face reflected in a computer screen filled with columns, was used to evoke the theme of imprisonment, but of which I could not sense. I was scared that years of training had hardened my heart into a rock. I was reminded of The Age of Innocence's May Welland, whose future husband compared her inability to speak her own voice, to "the Kentucky cave-fish, which had ceased to develop eyes because they had no use for them". It was indeed a dreadful fate.
I was about to give up when an incident changed my entire understanding of the arts. One day, I was looking at the speeding cars on the road below from an overpass when suddenly something hit my mind. I was five, looking at the car toy in toyshop's window and wondering how happy I could be having enough money to buy all the toys in the world. I was ten, sitting next to my uncle, a doctor, in his car (very few in Vietnam had a car at the time) and dreaming to become a doctor. I was eighteen, realizing that a career as a doctor may bring me a life of prosperity but not happiness, as my actual interest lied in the arts. I was surprised by the emotional reaction I had to that scenery, then it all dawned on me. To comprehend arts on the emotional level, one needs to have life experiences that would bridge the boundary between fact and imagination. Therefore, I set off on my new quest: to gain as many life experiences as possible.
I know my time on earth is limited. I know there are certain experiences I will never be able to go through, like the feeling of a child from a broken home. That was why I partook of teaching underprivileged kids, because to be there when they talked reluctantly about their families, when their lips quivered uncertainly and their eyes glared fiercely is a powerful experience in itself. I have tried my best to understand arts, and I am contented. (735 words)
Thank you so much:)
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