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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.
With the top applicants from every high school applying to the best schools in the country, it's important to have an edge in your college application. Because to me, there was only one "it," and "it" was a little less than two thousand miles west, an unassuming little office building located amidst a cluster of similarly unassuming little office buildings, distinguishable from one another on the outside only by the rusted numbers nailed to each door.
These are 10 Harvard application essays and profiles from students who made it in. Inside, crude photocopies of students' artwork plastered the once white walls.
Late evening rays streamed through these sprawling glass panes, casting a gentle glow upon all that they graced—paper and canvases and paintbrushes alike. The instructor sometimes talked, and we sometimes listened.
As day became night, the soft luminescence of the art studio gave way to a fluorescent glare, defining the clean rectilinear lines of Dillon Art Center against the encroaching darkness. Most of the time, though, it was just us—children, drawing and talking and laughing and sweating in the cluttered and overheated mess of an art studio.
Playing a crudely fashioned bamboo pipe, in the midst of sullen inmates—this is how I envision my grandfather.
Never giving up hope, he played every evening to replace images of bloodshed with memories of loved ones at home.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.Throughout the rest of the piece, Bobby’s use of imagery brings his essay to life, with “black fingerprints and smudges” and “unsoiled whiteness” being used to describe his art.He also uses imagery to illustrate the contrast between his organized, type A persona and the abstract art he eventually creates.State: Pennsylvania, USA High School: Private school, 120 students in graduating class Ethnicity: Asian Gender: Female GPA: 3.91 out of 4.0 SAT: Reading 800, Math 780, Writing 800 ACT: n/a SAT Subject Tests Taken: Mathematics Level 2, Biology M, Chemistry, Spanish Extracurriculars: Varsity tennis captain, varsity swimming captain, Mock Trial captain, Student Council Officer, A.I du Pont Hospital Volunteer Awards: Diamond Challenge Grand Prize Winner, Lincoln Scholarship Essay, National Merit finalist, National Honor Society scholarship finalist, Pennsylvania Governor's School for the Sciences Scholarship Major: Human Developmental and Regenerative Biology ESSAY Clear, hopeful melodies break the silence of the night.And I can't tell you exactly when or why my attitude changed, but eventually my own lines began to unabashedly disregard the rules of depth or tonality to which I had once dutifully adhered, my fervor leaving in its wake black fingerprints and smudges where once had existed unsoiled whiteness.It was in this studio that I eventually made the leap into a new realm of art—a realm in which I was neither experienced nor comfortable.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.