This is a very rough draft and I need as much help/corrections/critiques as possible on it! Please be brutally honest - all comments are welcome. I will return the favor! (:
C. Sculptor Jacques Lipchitz once said, "Cubism is like standing at a certain point on a mountain and looking around. If you go higher, things will look different; if you go lower, again they will look different. It is a point of view." With this in mind, describe a moment when your perspective changed.
His name was Michael. Although he was special needs, he created the most beautiful, intricate sculptures in our class. He came every day and sat two stools away from me, wearing his worn, hunter green cargo jacket and working in stoic silence, allowing his art do the speaking for him. He always made boats, colorful and delicate little models fashioned from cardboard or clay. I learned later that he lived on a boat in our local harbor with his father.
One day Michael didn't come to class. I doubt anyone noticed his absence - I'm ashamed to say I didn't either. However, my chest tightened when I saw the silent tears sliding down my teacher's ashen face as he announced that Michael was dead; they had found his body in the ocean early that morning. The news rang in my ears and numbed my mind. However, when I looked around to see other people's reactions, everyone had merely returned to their art, resuming their gossip or checking their iPhones slyly under the table, completely unperturbed. "Michael who?" someone muttered offhandedly. It sickened that one of our peers had died, but because nobody had any real relation to him, they simply didn't care. His death - and his existence for that matter - was insignificant; he was remembered only as "one of the mental kids". Michael's death illuminated the self-absorbed mindset I had been living with, and I was disgusted and ashamed to realize I was one of the many who were content to act as if he didn't exist even when he was alive.
I've learned it's easy to become absorbed in your own life and trivial personal matters; and it's too often that we others for granted. Although he will never know it, Michael has had a profound influence on my life and the moral standards I hope to live up to. His short life highlighted the importance of treating everyone with respect and appreciation; and the exhibits of his exquisite artwork remind me each day to slow down and appreciate the little joys and minor yet beautiful idiosyncrasies of life.
C. Sculptor Jacques Lipchitz once said, "Cubism is like standing at a certain point on a mountain and looking around. If you go higher, things will look different; if you go lower, again they will look different. It is a point of view." With this in mind, describe a moment when your perspective changed.
His name was Michael. Although he was special needs, he created the most beautiful, intricate sculptures in our class. He came every day and sat two stools away from me, wearing his worn, hunter green cargo jacket and working in stoic silence, allowing his art do the speaking for him. He always made boats, colorful and delicate little models fashioned from cardboard or clay. I learned later that he lived on a boat in our local harbor with his father.
One day Michael didn't come to class. I doubt anyone noticed his absence - I'm ashamed to say I didn't either. However, my chest tightened when I saw the silent tears sliding down my teacher's ashen face as he announced that Michael was dead; they had found his body in the ocean early that morning. The news rang in my ears and numbed my mind. However, when I looked around to see other people's reactions, everyone had merely returned to their art, resuming their gossip or checking their iPhones slyly under the table, completely unperturbed. "Michael who?" someone muttered offhandedly. It sickened that one of our peers had died, but because nobody had any real relation to him, they simply didn't care. His death - and his existence for that matter - was insignificant; he was remembered only as "one of the mental kids". Michael's death illuminated the self-absorbed mindset I had been living with, and I was disgusted and ashamed to realize I was one of the many who were content to act as if he didn't exist even when he was alive.
I've learned it's easy to become absorbed in your own life and trivial personal matters; and it's too often that we others for granted. Although he will never know it, Michael has had a profound influence on my life and the moral standards I hope to live up to. His short life highlighted the importance of treating everyone with respect and appreciation; and the exhibits of his exquisite artwork remind me each day to slow down and appreciate the little joys and minor yet beautiful idiosyncrasies of life.