I went onto the podium, taking the trophy from the judge. Suddenly it clicked.
I started drawing when I was four. Instead of taking training courses, I just kept painting alone. The dogs, flowers, and men I drew occupied my sketchbooks, my textbooks, and every piece of paper I can get. I could not stop painting even during the class. All the time after I finished my homework was for painting. In return, I could draw pictures that all my classmates would admire.
I appreciated my own drawings, while my mother was bullish about my favorite hobby. I admired the style of Hayao Miyazaki, but mother scoffed at it. She questioned me: “Why can’t you get good grades in art class? If you paint well, why not win prizes in competitions?”
Several years later, I participated in a postcard design competition. In the match, I needed to design and print on a small piece of paper. I drew a woman elegantly sitting sideways on a buffalo with black fur. This was my forte, so I was not surprised when I received the silver medal. When I stood up for the trophy, my family and friends cheered for me. My mother said: “Your painting is so nice! I always believe you can do well!” I was so surprised to hear that words, so I calmed down at once. Just then, everything became clear. I finally understood what the feeling of winning prizes in the field of art is, so I realized that I was not painting for what the prize gave me. The prize did not change my work, but changed people’s altitude.
“Lovely as a prize may be, artists want out--” this is from the article. Though I am not an artist yet, I understood when I saw the sentence. In the whole progress, I acquire two kinds of happiness: painting, and seeing my works being admitted by people. It is nice that people like my drawings, but I should admit their value no matter they are appreciated or not. Just as the article’s last sentence says, “It will still be a beautiful thing, a prize in itself.”