Art: Ritual and Practice “…You only get one life to live / How far do you wanna take it?” The words ring out beyond the song by Tyler, the Creator (2021). Maybe it’s my first-generation American optimism, my age, or the spirit of an artist that has always been in pursuit of a fulfilling creative career over a traditional one. I come from a family of Vietnamese refugees. Even though my mother tried to hide it from me, I knew we were poor. Yet, while many immigrant parents encourage their children to enter a well-paid profession like medicine or law, my choice of studio art was lovingly accepted. My family stood by my choice to leave college in my home state of Arizona and apply to The New School, where I will be a junior. I have always been averse to subjects that don’t interest me. I saw my peers in college pursue lucrative majors such as accounting or nursing and felt uneasy about how my fine arts major did not guarantee any financial stability. In those brief bouts of doubt, I recall how I used to feel about doing worksheets in elementary school – anything outside of art feels like tedious, unimportant busywork. Everything I do is in the pursuit of creating art. I approach it like a sacred practice. Art for me is more than one-dimensional. Music, especially contemporary music, attracts me. I see myself within the lyrics. Whether it's privately listening to music or attending crowded shows in small venues, music creates in me a sense of connection to others within the scene. I am not alone in how I feel; I am part of a whole. I have come to realize that this experience inspires the visual language of my own artistic expression. It is a direction for themes of my future work. Besides being a painter, I am a photojournalist. I have an eye for candid photography, and I plan to photograph the New York City music scene and develop work based on the images as well as the emotional content. I will find ways to use this work to put down roots in my community, possibly by building partnerships between galleries and music venues. Community service will be part of this plan, too. Although I have been envisioning a career in art since I was in middle school, I feel that I don’t have a concrete message yet, which is where attending The New School comes into play. If I am granted the Angela Engelson Memorial Scholarship for Women Artists, it will help to pay for my schooling, in an environment where I will refine the messaging behind my devotion to fine art. Those attending and teaching at The New School are there because they have an exceptional commitment to their passion, be it fashion design, film, or fine arts. I believe that conversations and exchanges of knowledge with professors and fellow students will challenge my beliefs and inspire new ways of thinking that will influence my paintings. I admire people who pursue their passions to the fullest extent. There’s a real, unapologetic sincerity in living like that. Thank you for the opportunity to apply for this scholarship. Tammy Drew Nguyen

First-Gen Ambition Although my mother tried to hide it from me, I knew we were poor. My parents were Vietnamese refugees. They knew nothing about American education and the costs of it. Still, they tried their best for me to live comfortably, and as an adult, it is my legacy to continue their dedication to a better life. I will attend The New School in New York, where I hope to become a successful artist, entrepreneur, and benefactor of my community. Beginning as a Girl Scout, I learned about service. I taught art to young children in a church summer camp. Later, I joined Alice Cooper’s Hard Rock Teen Center and, along with playing guitar and singing in a rock band, I taught songwriting. I read to preschoolers at a homeless shelter for families. Starting college in Arizona, I supported myself with scholarships, Pell grants, and part-time jobs. I also sewed tote bags and sold them at farmers’ markets along with prints of my artwork. When I was a senior, I received some bad advice from a well-meaning counselor, and I lacked the right credits to graduate. That ultimately led to a hard decision to move to New York City and apply to The New School, the school of my dreams. Although I found a job and a place to live, I don’t have the financial resources to pay for my education. Finishing my Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in very important to me. The New School will give me one of the best art educations available, and I am eager to learn from great teachers and talented peers. I have a parallel interest in music, and he music world in New York fascinates me. One of my goals is to express the essence of local music in my art. I’m a painter and a photojournalist, and I plan to use photography to document the contemporary music scene, which will influence themes and visual language in my paintings. My work could be used for promoting music, charity fundraising, creating partnerships with galleries, and opportunities I haven’t yet imagined. But first, I must complete my degree. There is an ache, a drive, in me that longs for higher education, a contributing role in the community, and the chance for financial security. I am hardworking, resilient, and ready. The WCEJ Thornton Foundation Scholarship would be a tremendous help in pursuing my goals.

Intersection of Art and Music In recent years, I became disenchanted with the regressive social behavior that I encountered everywhere—in school, at work, in the media. It was hard to find an accessible and nurturing escape from it, but I have found that I can do so through music. I come from a family that, for many reasons—including poverty, language barriers, and cultural differences—did not promote expressing one’s wants or needs. My favorite songwriters are those whose lyrics speak clearly about their want for sincerity, love, or stability. It is empowering in a private way, like quietly putting old photos in a box under your bed. One of my main goals is to express the essence of that music scene in my art. I’m a painter and a photojournalist, and I plan to use photography to document the contemporary New York music scene, which will influence themes and visual language within my paintings. Like many people who choose to move here, I see New York City as the physical embodiment of my passions. I’m more excited than ever to experience contemporary culture. I admire people who pursue their passions to the fullest extent; there’s a real, unapologetic sincerity in living like that. Those attending and teaching at The New School are there because they have an exceptional devotion to their passions be it fashion design, film, or fine arts. I believe that conversations and exchanges of knowledge with professors and fellow students will expose me to new ideas and challenge my biases. When I submitted my application to The New School in November, I was living in hostels and struggling to find a place of my own. On a fateful April night in the stairwell of the restaurant I work at, I was unsurprised but delighted to learn that I was admitted to my dream art school. I have been putting in my 10,000 hours to get my work recognized, and it felt as if my future had arrived. Although that closing shift was served with bright smiles all night, I felt a nagging fear that I was in no financial state to attend one of the best art schools in the world. My parents are Vietnamese refugees who work in low-paid jobs and lack financial literacy. They risked their lives and sacrificed everything for me to be able to get this far. I have been in college since 2021, paying with scholarships and part-time jobs. I do not have the resources to afford The New School. So far, I have a merit scholarship awarded by the school and the expectation of Pell grants. I have a job that covers my living expenses. The Jacob Kelly Memorial Scholarship would be extremely helpful in my need for tuition assistance. Although the experiences of my growing up were limited by my family’s circumstances, I developed resilience and found value in working hard. I learned how to know what I am trying to say, and I create art accordingly. I was fortunate to have people who cared about me, including mentors who taught me about the impact of supporting the local community. I shared my skills with children by teaching art at local summer camps, distributed food at homeless shelters, and I volunteered to teach songwriting workshops to kids at Alice Cooper’s Solid Rock Teen Center. There is an ache in me that is on the path for higher education, freedom of expression, and the chance for financial security. Thank you for the opportunity to apply for this scholarship.

In Good Faith By Drew Nguyen Being mentally ill is like waking up alone on a boat with ocean spanning every edge of the horizon. Fear would flood most of us. I flickered between rage, tears, silence, and spite that went nowhere in particular. Here, nobody to console me, no one I could turn to for reassurance, no one I could blame. I had been abandoned. For thirteen years I was in and out of psychiatrists’ offices monthly. The medication trials seemed endless. No matter what brand name or dose I swallowed, everything felt urgent or stifling, but always absolute, nothing in-between. I had liked people too much. I felt rejection so vividly. I feared reaching out. I felt hopeless about wanting friends and a career, and I was grateful to be tolerated. Growing up, I lacked the tools to identify my inner emotions or wants. My parents were good, but busy. Communication with them about what troubled me was non-existent. My parents speak Vietnamese; their grasp of English is limited to the basics, such as what time they are coming home from work. My spoken Vietnamese is similarly narrow. There was no shared language, so I couldn’t explain my feelings to them if I felt hurt, disappointed, or unseen. Even if I could, any discussion was impossible. At seventeen, I found myself in a psychiatric hospital, trying to escape my own poor, misguided decisions. While I lacked parental guidance to identify my needs and feelings, I made the decision to try to understand myself, so that I might show up for myself and then eventually for others. I have been wounded, which needs time and attention, but I am not a child anymore. My thoughts, actions, and habits have consequences, and I choose every day to try to be able to do good for myself and others because the alternative is being burned-out and rotten. I am still on that boat; the only person within reach is myself. The child that was left to their own devices is at the mercy of fear, rejection, and self-incrimination. In a sea of independence, there are two choices to be made: to be battered around by the circumstances beyond our control or to take actions that closer align us with the stability we crave. We can raise the sails, go with the wind, and be very conscious of changes in direction, in case we find ourselves on the wrong path. I make decisions every day in good faith. Having arrived in New York, I want to be among people who are not only kind, but also knowledgeable and passionate about what they do or want to do. The New School gives me access to people with the highest skill contemporary culture has to offer. It was my reason for coming to New York, a huge leap of faith. When I submitted my application to The New School, I was on the couch in an apartment rented out by a friend. I was frantically looking for a place of my own, in between hostels, living out of one suitcase and a month’s supply of prescription mood stabilizers. I found a job and a place to live. I also sell my art at informal local art markets. Truly, I did not expect to be admitted to The New School so quickly, but suddenly, I need about $50,000 to cover tuition—more if I can’t keep my job while going to school. My parents are Vietnamese refugees, with neither the financial literacy nor the freedom that can come from not having to worry about money every day. They risked their lives and sacrificed much in order for me to be where I am. For this, I am grateful, but I can’t ask them for more. I cannot control my circumstances and lack of resources, but I can try my best to put myself in situations that will support the future, or myself and my family. There is an ache in me that requires higher education, expression, and financial freedom. Getting this scholarship and finishing my education would be proof to those struggling with mental illness that if we make decisions in good faith, and try our best despite where we came from, we can achieve our goals, our best dreams, our greatest hopes. Thank you for the opportunity to apply for this scholarship.