Social Anxiety and Art

I’ve been a professional artist since 2009, however, I was not classically trained. In fact, the first art class I ever took (other than intro to art–which is just like about art) was a sculpture class in 2024.

This clay statue that I made was my first full assignment in that class after we all made pinch pots together. The prompt for the assignment was simply “shelter.”

I know why I chose a hollow hoodie for the prompt, but I don’t know what part of her explaining the project triggered my memories of hiding in my clothes on the playground. All my friends loved recess. I remember how loud and eager the entire classroom would get, but I hated recess.

In the second grade, we were all running out to the playground. I was running so I could get to the swings before they filled up. I remember politely waiting so as not to encroach on anyone’s personal space. I remember seeing the swing set on this beautiful sunny day, realizing there were swings open, and starting to run with this great hope that I, too, could swing in the sun.

And then I felt this thwack as another kid ran full force into my back. I remember falling toward the black asphalt, knowing I could do nothing to stop the hot sticky tar from greeting me. I hit my head so hard on the concrete that a tennis ball sized knot formed on my forehead and I was sent home.

Cole was never even told to apologize. And that was the last time I held out any hope for the swing sets at recess.

But it wasn’t just that. I was ill-equipped for recess in general being someone who has sensory issues, being someone who never had the right clothes to wear even after digging through years of hand-me-downs from my older siblings, being someone who couldn’t afford headphones and wouldn’t have wanted to make a fuss about how loud the other children were anyway.

I was always cold. It was always loud.

After the swing set incident, my favorite thing to do at recess became sitting under a tree alone with a coat or a jacket (if I had one) pulled over my head. I always wished I had giant hoodies to hide in.

Now, as an adult, I find solace and shelter in being completely enveloped by my softest, biggest hoodie.

I wouldn’t sell “shelter” if someone paid me a million dollars. It sits on a shelf above my bed as a reminder that I am not a product of my neglect, but I’m not separate from it either.

I was listening to a lot of 90’s music while sculpting this in class, because that’s when I was on the playground. I incorporated seams and used paper towel for a cloth-like texture in some spots. I glazed it with a shiny gray because gray is for going unnoticed and the shine makes it look like it’s sitting in the rain.