Since I was probably born, I have been surrounded by medicine and science. Many times I say some sort of medical term or a medicine’s name when my parents forget sometimes. Needless to say, it was obvious what kind of future my parents wanted for me. I was fed this idea for a potential future so I always said when I was younger that I wanted to be a DO (doctor of osteopathic medicine), one of the cool doctors, like my mom.
Yet despite all this conditioning, my parents failed to realize their own art genes that passed down to me as well as my sister. I don’t know how much my parents have noticed but if it weren’t for their medical careers, I believe they could have been good artists. They don’t quite have an eye for my strange art but in their own way they have an eye for art. I enjoy looking at my mom’s really old artworks and it shocking to remember my dad’s acting and to now see some direction skills in skits, photography, and such.
I do believe they haven’t noticed. If they did, they would probably see the same in my siblings and I. It’s a difficult situation because I would have hoped that this art career (and definitely my artwork) would sit well with them. I do understand the whole stereotype of the starving artist and that they’re very nervous.
A lot of my artworks are hidden under my bed, shoved in drawers under clothes or stuffed in books and folders. I never expected them to ever like what I produce. I constantly have to make an excuse or lie on what I’m filming or photographing so they won’t ask exhausting questions and give me a look of concern. There’s only a handful of people whose opinion matter too much to me and two of those are my parents. So to protect my mind, I just try my hardest to hide.
After showing my parents one of my freshman final films, my mom told me not to forget my morals. I was already scared in the corner, my face so pale. The color probably went back to my cheeks because I got slightly angry at that statement. There was nothing I was going to lose or forget. This inspiration was given to me somehow and these are the stories that have been collecting in me from years ago to recently. I’ve always wanted to be a storyteller and I know I will lose myself if I don’t create stories.
My parents may or may not accept my direction of art. I would say that’s ok. They have supported me this far and even happily got me a camera. Some of their thoughts and guidance are misguided but they will come around, I’m sure, even if it takes years. Yes, they cringed at the makeup and artwork in my midterm photos, they jumped at my final film, but never the less they support me in their own way. It exhausting, annoying, frustrating, and stressful (you will always catch me complaining) but this will probably make for great stories in the future 😉 .
Gaby Pinewood 