As a a Gobby Teenager Who Lived to Succeed. Until Losing a Contest – Discovering the Real Me.

“I am young person growing up during a time marked by conflict, dishonesty, prejudice, racism, gender inequality. But no one appear outraged by these issues. Many view minor progress towards equal society as solutions to our issues entirely and it just isn’t enough.”

It’s March 2015, I believed I’ve solved social injustice. Standing in a lower-level space of Modern Art Oxford during a local round in a public speaking contest, I truly believe that perhaps I just introduced the audience with adults and educators to the idea regarding gender equality. I’m very pleased with myself.

The Contest

The Articulation prize is a competition for post-GCSE students, between 16 and 19, who are given 10 minutes to deliver on a work of art they select. I was told regarding this by my head of sixth form, and his room I frequently visited just weeks before the competition. As a pupil, I was clever though talkative and often unfocused. Emotions hit me acutely often becoming emotional and upset.

I also took a binary approach to my education: excel completely or quit entirely. During our meeting, we discussed my choice to drop a history course soon after beginning it because I didn’t think it would be possible for me to finish top graded. “Not everything is death or glory,” he implored.

A Chance

Supported by my patient art teacher, the director of the college recognised that Articulation was exactly the opportunity that I needed – since I loved art AS-level, and proved outspoken within of the school’s rag-tag discussion group. He proposed I develop a talk for a preliminary school-level round. From memory, it seems no one else participated.

Choosing Art

My presentation focused about the artist’s pharmacy installations, viewed previously at his 2012 retrospective at Tate Modern (the poster of which remains posted on the wall behind my desk). I encountered his creations for the first time as a child visiting Ilfracombe, a coastal location my elder relative had grown up, and where the artist had a restaurant, its name, full of formaldehyde-imprisoned fish, and wallpaper covered in pills. I loved that the art seemed funny and contrarian, that he successfully calling whatever he wanted “art”. I loved that my grandmother hated it. But maybe most of all, I loved that, because the medicine cabinet installations were named after tracks on their 1977 album, I could say “The word” (Pistols) repeatedly in my speech. I felt like the boldest young thinker of my generation.

The Result

At the regional heat, there were nine participants spoke, each presenting had better cultural context, made fewer unsupported, sweeping statements, and said “bollocks” rarely. I received third place. As a teenager who put almost all self-esteem to success, typically this meant a crushing blow. Yet then, that people appreciated my talk, and chuckled exactly when I intended, felt enough.

Fresh Directions

By the time the organizers asked to present once more, now during a conference at the British Museum, I submitted my application to study history of art at Oxford. Prior to this, I had thought I’d choose literature or languages, but certainly not top universities, where I knew I couldn’t become “the best”. But the competition boosted my courage and convinced me that my views were worth sharing, without knowing specialized terms. I didn’t need perfection: I just needed to put my spin on things.

Finding Purpose

Discussing creativity – and finding ways to entertain audiences during presentations – quickly became my guiding light. This contest experience came full circle upon returning recently to be the first alumni evaluator of an Articulation heat.

The event gave me confidence beyond my degree choice: not that I would accomplish great things, but that I didn’t have to. I stopped requiring to covet perfection; I needed to lean into my own voice. I transformed from anxious and easily overcome – passionate but quick to frustration – into a person trusting in their capabilities. Perfection wasn’t necessary. For the first time, being genuine outweighed more to me than flawlessness.

Appreciation

I remain thankful to the college leader who took time to understand me when I was an obstinate and emotional young adult, instead of rolling his eyes (and, looking back, some irritation would have been entirely justified). Not everything was death or glory; I learned that it is often worth trying without requiring guarantees of “victory”.