Josie Guerrero is focused on one thing: getting accepted into the prestigious art studies program within the Art School at the University of Southern Washington. With thirteen weeks to create her sophomore portfolio, she knows she can't afford any d...
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"Can you see it?"
I pop up onto my tiptoes and peek over the top of the canvas I'm holding up, making sure the entire painting is in the shot of my laptop's camera. I've been waiting for this particular piece to dry for the past two days, and now that I'm confident I'm not going to smudge it, I hold onto it proudly as I show it off, beaming over the top of the canvas at my parents who are both leaning in closer to their webcam to get a closer look.
"Yes, it looks amazing, mija. Cada dia te vuelves más talentosa." Each day you become more talented.
I grin at my dad's comment, and when I look down at the painting, I can't help the rush of excitement that floods my veins because even though he would say that regardless, just to encourage me, I know this time he's not just saying it. I know this time, he's right.
I've felt so inspired lately. Every second that I'm not in class or at the diner, I'm in the studio. And even though it's been a lot of early mornings and late nights, it's all been worth it because I finally feel like I've found my stride again. I've managed to sketch out the outline for five of the six required paintings for my portfolio, and the painting that I'm currently holding up is my first finished piece.
When I look up from the painting, I watch my mom on the screen as her wandering eyes take in the canvas. As an artist, I know she's admiring it in a completely different way than my dad. She's taking it in, as a whole and also in pieces — in the small details, seeing it fully. Her eyes widen a little as her lips perk up, and my chest tightens when she finally speaks.
"Este es el mejor hasta ahora, mi amor. Es hermoso." It's the best one yet, my love. It's beautiful.
I place the canvas down carefully and lean it against the couch before sitting down at the table again. I pull my legs up onto the chair and bring my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I beam at the screen.
"It's the first one in my portfolio. I've been painting it all week. I still have five more to go. The first five pieces are classic portrait style, all featuring a prominent woman in history." I look back at the portrait painted on the canvas, smiling at the woman staring boldly back. I admire the fierce set of her brows and delicate tilt of her lips before looking back at my parents. They're both moving around the kitchen, looking over their shoulders at me now and then to let me know they're listening. "The final piece is like a thread, tying all the portraits together in a way." I don't give away too much since I want to see my mom's face when I show it to her for the first time.
I grab an apple slice from my bowl on the table and take a bite. "There's an art exhibit in December for the pre-art students. It's kind of impossible to get chosen for it since there are only twelve spots available, but...I think I might apply for it." I take another bite of my apple and shrug.
Aside from having your art hung on the USW wall of fame, being chosen for the pre-art show is just about every pre-art student's dream. Almost all the students selected for the art show are accepted into the program. Not always, but more often than not.
