Starting out in college - the beginning of which I deemed the transition to the adult world for me - I thought I could start to ride through life through pure professionalism. General paper-pushing and advising, clicking and dragging data, all those kinds of things were my sort of work activities that I wanted to do. What they also had in common was that they did not require much creativity besides deciding how to color-code the cells in a spreadsheet.
I had tried art before, but they were more either hobbies, like playing instruments, or for assignments, like making slideshow presentations or writing poetry. Other things I tried - music writing and calligraphy as a couple of examples - proved too out of my scope for me to spend adequate time on to start, let alone attempt to make it a hobby and master. This just further contributed to my aspiration to become an expert at clerical work: something that no one truly likes to do yet I could see myself doing all day, every day forever until retirement. (If I still sound out of it to you, I see filling out forms simplistic and almost to the point of therapeutic, which I see as a big plus.)
However, to my surprise, as I progressed in school and learned more about my seemingly-boring work dreams, I found that not only was art not insignificant, but rather necessary in all aspects of life, work included. The ease of form-filling can be improved upon with typographical changes and more straightforward layouts. Presentations need color and even a minute sense of dynamics to keep people awake to actually look at them. Being the best-dressed one at the office requires some concept of clothing coordination. And even the most boring elevator ride can be improved with some bangin' elevator music.
As I discovered this and started to try to make such art aspects my own, I began to see how difficult such topics can be in the art realm. From the intricacies of the post-production stages in music and video editing to trying to make sense of my own wardrobe to properly present myself on every occasion (the clothes really do make the man), I began to understand why people would ever major in art. It's quite a simple reason, to be quite honest, and it's what I've been getting at for the past three sentences: art is complicated. Good art can be made by many, but great art can only be made consistently by those who take the time to practice over and over again endlessly, working based on feedback from both peers and themselves. Such post-secondary programs provide budding artists such environments to gather together under the instruction of a professional to learn to create pieces with meaning out of nothing. Not an easy thing to do.
Good work ethic makes the world go round. Behind every grocery you buy at the supermarket and article of clothing you buy lies a history of stacks on stacks of paperwork. But much like a standard contract, efficiency can be as dull-black-and-white as ever. It is art that is the underlying factor that makes that boring part of life just a little more enjoyable. The produce section is arranged in a certain way, and maybe the department store you go to plays subtle classical music in the background (to send subliminal messages, perhaps?). The next time you interact with artists, don't just scoff. Commend them on their work. Remember: it's their kind that makes your elevator rides so jazzy and enjoyable.
