Storytime!
First things first, the visuals for this story are lost to time. Due to time and more time constraints, I will be illustrating this story with very crud and quick sketches and stock photography.
This story revolves around t-shirts and art!
This took place either in late middle school or early high school. The exact time doesn't matter to the story, but it was likely more of a high school thing. There was a fundraiser going on with a club or group I was associated with. As I was 'one of the art kids, ' the adults looked to me for stuff. The fundraiser was to print and sell t-shirts to raise money - entirely straightforward. It was decided to link it to Spring Break, so the shirts would be themed around a week-long break that none of us really participated in as we were children. I was given the task of illustrating the shirt. From the beginning, I was out of my comfort zone. The art needed to be something involving students, a cool car, water/beach stuff, and other expected Spring Break visual troupes. Straightforward now, in the late 80's, it was a Herculean effort for me.
I worked and worked and worked on this thing. I wasn't happy with any of it the entire time. The teacher I was working with on this project was not happy either. I wanted to do something a bit cartoony and fun, maybe something weird with monsters and aliens - something more me. The teacher didn't want anything of the sort. As this went along, I was backed into a corner. I was told to draw a *REAL* '57 Chevy with three students (two male students, one white and the second African American, one female student), some surfboards in the back of the car, and palm trees or two. I was not a car kid, so I had to hunt down photos of the requested car and make the best of things. At the time, I was nowhere near having the ability to look at something and then draw it from a different desired angle. So, when I used the reference of the car(s), I had to recreate it in a similar arrangement to the reference.
When it was all said and done, I had a high school-level drawing of a '57 Chevy-like car from somewhere between a full profile to 3/4 view, several mangled approximations of high school students, and a palm tree or two. I covered everything in the assignment and got it done. While it was mostly a pencil drawing, there was some ink work to clean it up and make it a little better. There was no color on it at all, and I was not asked about what I intended for it. I was told that the drawing was perfect and that the shirts would be made with my art on them. This all felt weird to me, but as a kid, I was well-trained to defer to adults in all matters. So, the drawing left my hands, and I never saw it again.
What I submitted was better than this scribble, but likely not by much.
It was fine for a high school student, but it was not t-shirt quality by a long shot.
Jump ahead several weeks, and the shirts arrive at the school. The teacher responsible for all of this excitedly gets me to come to the classroom to see the shirts. She makes a big deal of revealing the shirt to me with some hand flourishes. I just stared, dumbstruck. She nudges me and, smiling, says, "Look at that! Your art! It looks so great on the shirt. You should be proud. YOU did that!"
The only problem was... what I was looking at was NOT my art. What I was looking at was the art made by a professional with decades of experience. It was a completely new drawing, and it was in full color. The angel was different, the car was different, the figures were different, the trees and surfboards were different, and there was the addition of a ground plane, sun, and clouds. The only connection between these two was the idea. The art of the shirt was not only good, but it was solid, and in no way was the work of a high school student. It was everything that my art wasn't. The kicker was whoever did the art and made the shirts cut out my signature from my drawing and put it on their art on the shirt. I was mortified. I was hurt, sad, confused, and not at all excited or happy about any of this. I didn't have the words for it, but it all felt wrong. I didn't make the art, yet my name was on it. I couldn't produce art of that level at the time, and seeing my name attached to it tore me up.
It was NOT my art.
It WAS leaps and bounds better than my art, and everyone thought it was mine.
The teacher proceeded to tell everyone that I was the artist for the shirt, and since my name was on it, everyone believed it to be true. I received so many compliments for the shirt, and there was a bit of buzz about others wanting me to do shirts for their club, group, or fundraiser. I was horrified and wanted it to all end. It felt wrong on every level. I tried to correct the situation with some, but that made it worse. I began to be accused of stealing the art, lying that it was mine, that I somehow secretly got my name on the shirt, and on and on. I just had to wait for people to forget about the shirt and move on before I could have any peace. I never saw my drawing again, and I got rid of my shirt long ago after I could no longer bear to look at it.
Art I didn't make was attributed to me, and it immediately felt wrong and bad. I was a kid, and I knew this. It wasn't awesome and great that people thought I was a skilled artist. It felt miserable. I was falsely being credited on the work of another, and I didn't even have any control or say in this. I am sure the nice artist at the shirt place thought they were doing some kid a solid by putting their name on it. But it was all a lie. And I paid for it. I simply do not understand finding joy, pleasure, or comfort in taking credit or ownership for something you did not make - especially if you do not have the ability to make it in the first place. I think about this from time to time, but over the last year, I have been thinking about it more and more.
That is all for another exciting Wednesday on the blog. See you back here on Friday! Until then...
