A stampede of eager faces crowded into a new and unknown future. It was the High School of Industrial Arts, on East 79th Street, a small four-floor building, looking like an orphan sandwiched between two high rise apartment buildings. The rumor was that it had once been used as a hospital for the wounded soldiers during the Civil War.
____I walked into a spacious low-ceilinged room spotted with pillars that held up the floor above. There was a bunch of other kids scattered around the room, individual kids fumbling for the way to the auditorium. Eventually, by osmosis, we began to form into groups with a purpose - to find the auditorium. A few of the SIA seniors helped us find our way. They had a superior attitude and enjoyed treating us like naive children. To them we were a new batch of intruders into their territory, upsetting their routine.
____The auditorium was filled with chaotic nervous excitement that resonated with my young hot blood, filling me with a surge of anticipation and great expectations. Here was a whole bunch of kids my own age with the same goal: Art. For the first time, I was surrounded by people who cared about art, in a place where art was important and meant something. This is where I wanted to be.
____In junior high school my home room teacher, Mrs. Kalenson, talked me into going to SIA. She told me I had to bring at least twelve pieces of artwork to be reviewed. But she didn't tell me what kind of artwork. So I was on my own.
____My mom thought going to a special art school was foolish and a waste of time. Art wasn't real to her. I had to beg her for money for a drawing pad.
____I bought myself a cheap 8"x11" penny pad, the kind that if you looked at it long enough, it would turn brown and brittle.
____I had only had two days to prepare before my interview at SIA. In those two days, I drew twelve black and white pencil line drawings of whatever came to my imagination.
____The auditorium settled down as soon as the teachers sat behind their little desks, along one side of the room. They called out the names alphabetically of the kids to be reviewed, and out came their art work. Some uncovered large detailed oil paintings, and others kids had water colors that took my breath away. There was one kid who had done finished comic book panels in color. This was all new to me. All these kids who were my age drew like professionals. Seeing all that wonderful work and then looking at my own, made my self worth go down the toilet. Their unexpected talents filled me with awe. I sat there numb, with a deadened look in my eyes. All of a sudden I didn't belong anymore.
____I never did have any hopes of a future. I was just a hopeless little boy who lived in his dreams. This was one of those dreams that had almost become a reality. Now, abruptly it was ended, destroying the hope I so briefly had. My choked up fears started to seep through too fast, suffocating me. I had to get out of there. I was sitting close to the aisle and could overhear the teachers commenting on the students' work, "Magnificent." Then another teacher, "These are wonderful!" And another, "Excellent." "Outstanding!" "This shows talent." Each compliment was like a sledgehammer, beating me down deeper and deeper into my chair, disappearing into myself.
____What the hell am I doing here? I could just hear how the teachers would laugh when they saw my black and white pencil drawings. They would ask me, "What the hell are you doing here? Why don't you try something else? You might as well leave now without further embarrassing yourself."
____My blood flushed hot through my veins and dripped out of my armpits. I have to get the fuck out of here. Folding my drawings in half, I stuffed them in my back pocket and, because I was so small, I felt no one would notice me as I slumped-down and slid off my chair. During all the commotion in the room I could fade away and slip out the exit. Just a little bit more and I'd be free from being found out I was a fraud.
____Just as I got to the back door, I heard my name being called above the other voices. A teacher called out my name three times, one successively louder than the other. I ran to her desk just to shut her up, before everyone in the auditorium started looking in my direction.
____"Mr. Rothman?" "Yes." "What do you have to show me?" I took my drawings out from my back pocket and unfolded them. As I tried to press out the folded creases, I surrounded my work with my body so no one else could see them except for me and the teacher.
____She scrutinized each page as if they held her interest, "Did you copy these?" "No, they're all from my head. I thought copying would be cheating." "I see. Hmm. Very nice, very imaginative. Why do you want to be an artist?" "Because that's all I know how to do." "Thank you." I sat there stunned and baffled at what just took place and waited for a sign. "Well? You can take your seat now." Her voice woke me from my stupor and I grabbed my drawings and retreated to my seat.
____After the last interview the teachers left the auditorium and a student stepped onto the stage, "Everybody! Please direct your attention to the stage. Before you leave we're going to give each of you two sheets of blank paper." Nervous murmurs rumbled through the room. "No, its not a written test. On one sheet of paper you're going to use these four elements: A boy, a dog, a man and a pile of newspapers. Draw them in any situation you like. Just use your imagination. You've got fifteen minutes. And please do not look at your neighbor's paper. We want each drawing to be original.
____I tried but I couldn't think of anything special so I used whatever popped into my head. My scene had the boy standing by a johnny pump at a street corner, holding his dog by a leash. He watches the man setting up a pile of newspapers on his newsstand as the dog lifts his leg and pees onto the johnny pump, leaving a trail of pee dripping into the gutter.
____"Sorry, but your time is up. Now, on the second piece of paper you will sketch from a model. We're going to have one of the Seniors model for you. Her name is Adele. Sketch her any way you like. And as before, you have only fifteen minutes."
____Since everyone had only a pencil and piece of paper to work with, I felt I had an equal chance. My attempts to do better than the other kids got in my way, smothering whatever talent I thought I had. No matter how hard I tried, my drawing was awful. I scratched it out with my pencil to keep anyone from seeing the shapeless, lopsided monstrosity I had drawn. My failure made me believe this was beyond me. I gave up and started day dreaming, doodling away the time. At the end of the session, I ended up with a collage of disconnected detailed drawings of different parts of the model's anatomy, floating all over the page.
____"That's it! Thank you for coming. We'll let you know by mail if you were accepted or not. Thanks again and have a safe trip home."
____My excitement was gone. I knew what the inevitable outcome would be. My inner world was made up of small countries of disappointments and this was just another one of those countries. I got on the uptown Lexington Avenue subway as if this day never happened, I headed home.