Hey guys! So I'm applying to UVa which is a pretty competitive school so I want to make sure my supplement essay is top notch. Keep in mind this is literally my first draft and I'm open to any and all critisicms, thoughts and suggestions. I need your help guys! Oh, here's the prompt...
College of Arts and Sciences: What work of art, music, science, mathematics, or literature has surprised, unsettled, or challenged you, and in what way?
Mmm, Mmm Good
I've never considered myself to be one of those dreadlock donned, beret wearing, coffee drinking, bearded, type of artists. The kind that can look at a painting of a daffodil and discern the meaning of life hidden within its brushstrokes. So you can imagine my bewilderment as I suddenly found myself surrounded on either side by a crowd of these self proclaimed, beret clad artists conversing about the deeper meaning of Andy Warhol's Campbell's soup painting. As I stood there with Warhol's cans staring me in the face and the never ending stream of the contemplating artists' unfamiliar jargon clouding my every thought, I began to wonder if I was missing something. What were these people seeing that I wasn't? How were they getting "critical social issues of consumerism" out of these soup cans when all that my brain was capable of producing was a broken record of "Campbell's soup...It's so Mmm, Mmm, good!"
The longer I stood in front of that painting the more frustrated I became at my lack of deep, artistic understanding that seemed to come so easily to those supercilious artists standing next to me twirling their beards. Maybe it was their berets. Either way, it felt as if they were all in on some confidential secret that I was dying to unearth. I decided I was left with no other choice. The next thing I knew I was halfway to the beret shop, desperately trying to reclaim my title as an artist. Just then, an unbeknownst force stopped me in my tracks as I had one of those dramatic flashbacks you see in the movies. I was back in my eighth grade art classroom with Mr. Christiansen standing over my shoulder, watching me as I carefully applied the finishing touches to my painting of a purple elephant. "Why is it purple?" he would ask. "Just because", was my well thought out reply. That's when he said something I had forgotten until that moment, standing frustrated in the middle of the sidewalk, halfway to the beret shop, "Artists don't always know why they do some things, that's what the critics are for." And then it dawned on me; why, those beret wearing coffee sippers weren't even artists! They were nothing more than a bunch of conceited, over analyzing critics trying to make me feel as if I was missing something. I promptly turned around and marched right back into that gallery, stood in front of Warhol's soup cans and gave my own deep, artistic opinion on the work, "Man, that guy sure liked soup."
College of Arts and Sciences: What work of art, music, science, mathematics, or literature has surprised, unsettled, or challenged you, and in what way?
Mmm, Mmm Good
I've never considered myself to be one of those dreadlock donned, beret wearing, coffee drinking, bearded, type of artists. The kind that can look at a painting of a daffodil and discern the meaning of life hidden within its brushstrokes. So you can imagine my bewilderment as I suddenly found myself surrounded on either side by a crowd of these self proclaimed, beret clad artists conversing about the deeper meaning of Andy Warhol's Campbell's soup painting. As I stood there with Warhol's cans staring me in the face and the never ending stream of the contemplating artists' unfamiliar jargon clouding my every thought, I began to wonder if I was missing something. What were these people seeing that I wasn't? How were they getting "critical social issues of consumerism" out of these soup cans when all that my brain was capable of producing was a broken record of "Campbell's soup...It's so Mmm, Mmm, good!"
The longer I stood in front of that painting the more frustrated I became at my lack of deep, artistic understanding that seemed to come so easily to those supercilious artists standing next to me twirling their beards. Maybe it was their berets. Either way, it felt as if they were all in on some confidential secret that I was dying to unearth. I decided I was left with no other choice. The next thing I knew I was halfway to the beret shop, desperately trying to reclaim my title as an artist. Just then, an unbeknownst force stopped me in my tracks as I had one of those dramatic flashbacks you see in the movies. I was back in my eighth grade art classroom with Mr. Christiansen standing over my shoulder, watching me as I carefully applied the finishing touches to my painting of a purple elephant. "Why is it purple?" he would ask. "Just because", was my well thought out reply. That's when he said something I had forgotten until that moment, standing frustrated in the middle of the sidewalk, halfway to the beret shop, "Artists don't always know why they do some things, that's what the critics are for." And then it dawned on me; why, those beret wearing coffee sippers weren't even artists! They were nothing more than a bunch of conceited, over analyzing critics trying to make me feel as if I was missing something. I promptly turned around and marched right back into that gallery, stood in front of Warhol's soup cans and gave my own deep, artistic opinion on the work, "Man, that guy sure liked soup."