Playing a crudely fashioned bamboo pipe, in the midst of sullen inmates—this is how I envision my grandfather.Tags: Essay On Pleasures Of WinterCupcake Business PlanHow To Solve Problems AlgebraicallyWard Chirchill EssayWhat Is Review Of Literature In Project ReportCitation Of Research PaperTrouble In Mind Leon Litwack ThesisAutomotive Shop Business Plan
No, it was not so clean and not so white and not so nice.
But I have drawn—rather, lived—in this studio for most of my past ten years.
One such example is “the whiteness of the background” on his sketchbook being “meticulously preserved” but yet “marred by the frenzied strokes of my instructor's charcoal.” Nevertheless, imagery alone does not provide the concrete, powerful narrative found in Bobby’s essay.
One of the most powerful appeals of the essay is that it represents a coming-of-age story that echoes the Bildungsroman literary sub-genre, in which characters evolve psychologically from youth to adulthood during the story.
While my grandfather describes the horrors of his experience in a forced labor camp during the Cultural Revolution, I could only grasp at fragments to comprehend the story of his struggle. As a child, visiting China each summer was a time of happiness, but it was also a time of frustration and alienation.
Running up to my grandpa, I racked my brain to recall phrases supposedly ingrained from Saturday morning Chinese classes. ” (“Hello, grandpa”), however, I struggled to form coherent sentences.
I suppose this is strange, as the rest of my life can best be characterized by everything the studio is not: cleanliness and order and structure.
But then again, the studio was like nothing else in my life, beyond anything in which I've ever felt comfortable or at ease. My carefully composed sketchbooks—the proportions just right, the contrast perfected, the whiteness of the background meticulously preserved—were often marred by the frenzied strokes of my instructor's charcoal as he tried to teach me not to draw accurately, but passionately. But thus was the fundamental gap in my artistic understanding—the difference between the surface realities that I wanted to depict, and the profound though elusive truths of the human condition that art could explore.
Indeed, not only does this essay document Bobby’s development from child to young adult, but Bobby’s art also matures from something orderly and superficial to something abstract and deeply meaningful.
What separates Bobby’s essay from a well-written story, however, is the subtextual narrative it provides the reader.