This article was originally published in the Academia print issue of The Daily Utah Chronicle, originally in stands in October of 2024. It has not been updated and some information may be out of date.
A few years ago, after a sleepless night spent writing, erasing and starting again, I came across a diary entry by Virginia Woolf. She described “reality” as something abstract, “residing in the downs or sky; beside which nothing matters; in which I shall rest and continue to exist.” Woolf spoke of the challenge of capturing this reality, resisting the urge to reshape it into what she wanted. Yet she wondered if this acute awareness of reality was her gift, one she longed to express.
Woolf, like many artists, thought about how her art reflected or reshaped her reality. Artists possess the power to mold the world around them. This ability demands not only technical skills but also the courage to confront the inner self and face critique. For art students, the weight of this emotional labor is immense. Like Woolf, they must face the vulnerability of turning personal “reality” and emotions into something external, risking misinterpretation, judgment and at times, a loss of self.
The Weight of Artistic Expression
Ellie Moore is a film student at the university. She described the emotional toll of creating something demanding so much of her: moments on set, directing, acting, even pushing herself to the point of near death. To her, being a film student isn’t just about making films. It’s something more raw, more personal. It is about survival and trying to breathe life into the stories she carries within her.
Moore said artists “have something they need to release.” Creating art unravels a tangled web from inside to something that can live outside of us. For art students, this process is grueling. The pressures of self-expression, with the vulnerability of critique, create emotional and psychological strain. It’s a quiet kind of labor, the kind that goes unnoticed until you realize how deeply it has worn you down.
Painting professor Xi Zhang talked about the challenges his students face and the importance of art. He said art connects people. The “thing” artists need to release is something other people can connect with, the people who don’t make art themselves.
“Powerful artwork may not be a place of butterflies and rainbows. It might be because of sadness, loss, mourning, negativity,” Zhang said.
He spoke about the importance of creating space for students to express these emotions, to use them as fuel for their work, but not to let them consume them.
“You have to separate yourself,” he said. “We are not our art, we are 100% perfect in our own way. The artwork should only reflect one time period of studying and practice.”
The Vulnerability of Creation
Moore recalled her first semester, feeling like an outsider in her STEM-heavy dorm.
“They looked at me like I was a joke. They didn’t take me seriously. And after a while, I stopped taking myself seriously too,” she said.
For Moore, reclaiming her sense of self, that what she does matters, was a long and painful process. Working on a set as an assistant director left her sleep-deprived and emotionally frayed. She said she “lost so much weight from the stress, and it wasn’t just the physical demands. It was the mental exhaustion. The pressure to be perfect. The constant need to perform, not just for myself, but for everyone around me.”
Zhang understands this well. He’s seen students struggle with the emotional demands of their work. He said as instructors, they “have to create a safe space where students can explore their vulnerabilities without fear of judgment.” He described critique as a tool for guidance, and compared art to scientific data.
“It’s not about the person, but about the work,” he said. “We’re just looking at the data. The person is perfect as they are.”
The Paradox of Fine Arts Education
“The benefit of being an artist is that you are a creator,” Zhang said. “You can change your surroundings for yourself and others.”
The act of creating art is a way to breathe life into the mundane and give rebirth to every phenomenon we encounter. This power is accompanied by an equally daunting vulnerability. Artists must confront the challenge of transforming their personal “reality” into something external, navigating the tension between their internal landscapes and the external world that awaits them.
In the end, perhaps that is the paradox of fine arts education: it demands everything from its students, yet offers them a way to transform that emotional labor into something meaningful.
