A New Opportunity

Sophie’s POV

By morning, I had filled several pages of my sketchbook. I was still working on the woman beside the open window, correcting the shape of her shoulder and the way her arm rested near the sill. Daniel’s suggestion at the community studio had helped me notice how narrow I had made the figure, but correcting it was harder than understanding what was wrong. Each time I adjusted the outline, another part seemed out of proportion.

After making myself something to eat, I returned to the table and sorted through the other drawings I had selected for the creative development initiative. I had been putting off looking at them properly because the woman by the window kept demanding my attention. The other two deserved the same consideration if I wanted to submit a collection that represented more than one idea.

My phone vibrated. Tessa had sent a message asking whether I was still practising.

I told her I was, then sent a picture of the drawing I had been working on. Her reply came a few minutes later.

“You’ve made the shoulder look more natural,” she wrote. “I can see the difference from Saturday.”

“That happens to me with almost everything I draw. I leave a picture alone for a day, then come back and decide I have ruined it.”

I asked whether she had chosen pieces for her portfolio. She had narrowed them down to five but kept changing her mind about two. One was a portrait she liked, though she wasn’t sure about the proportions; the other was a street scene she enjoyed drawing but felt was less polished.

“Maybe you should take both to the review,” I suggested. “You could ask which one has more potential.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Speaking of the review, I checked the details this morning. It’s next Wednesday evening at the community arts centre. They’re giving each person time to show a few pieces and ask questions.”

I looked at the message for a moment. “Have you booked a place?”

“Yes. There are still spaces, so I thought I’d ask if you wanted to come too. You don’t have to bring finished work. They said we can take pieces we’re still developing.”

The idea made me nervous. Showing my drawings to Tessa and the others had been one thing. Sitting with an experienced artist while they examined my work would be different. I imagined every weak line becoming obvious as soon as the pages were placed in front of them.

“I’m not sure mine are ready,” I replied.

“They don’t have to be perfect. That’s why they’re holding the session. I need advice too, especially about choosing what to keep.”

I glanced at the three drawings spread across the table. I had been waiting for them to look finished before letting anyone else see them, but I wasn’t sure I would ever reach that point on my own.

“All right,” I typed. “I’ll come.”

“Good. I’ll send you the booking details. We can meet outside and go in together.”

I thanked her, saved the date in my calendar and returned to my drawings. Knowing I had agreed to show them made the work feel more important, but it also gave me a reason to stop hiding behind endless corrections.

I began with the second drawing, a seated figure near a small table. The hands were awkward, and the space between the chair and the table looked cramped. I made a note beside the page to check the proportions and the position of the chair. The third drawing showed a woman carrying flowers along a street. Its composition was simple, but the flowers lacked detail and the folds of the woman’s clothing needed more attention.

My phone rang while I was arranging the pages. Alexander’s name appeared on the screen, and I answered.

“Hello, Sophie. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“I was drawing, but I can talk.”

“How is the application coming along?”

“I’ve chosen three drawings. I’m still working on them, and I’ve started thinking about the statement they want applicants to include.”

“That sounds like progress.”

“It is, although I keep finding things I want to change.”

“That’s part of preparing work for other people to see,” he said. “Have you had anyone look at the pieces yet?”

I told him about the Saturday gathering and Daniel’s advice. I also mentioned the portfolio-review session Tessa had invited me to attend.

“That could be useful,” he said. “You’ll have a chance to hear from someone that’s experienced, and you can decide which suggestions are worth applying.”

“I’m worried they’ll find too many things wrong with my drawings.”

“They may point out things you haven’t noticed. That doesn’t mean the work has no value. You don’t have to accept every suggestion, either. Listen, consider it and make your own decisions.”

His answer eased some of my worry. He wasn’t promising that everyone would like my work; he was reminding me that I could listen to their suggestions and decide which ones would help me improve.

“I’m going to attend,” I told him. “I think hearing another opinion will help me understand what I should improve next.”

“Then I hope it helps. Let me know how it goes, if you feel like sharing.”

“I will. Thank you.”

We ended the call, and I returned the phone to the table. Alexander had first told me about the creative development initiative, but the work was mine to prepare. I wanted to be able to stand behind the drawings I submitted, whether or not they were selected.

I opened the application information on my phone and read through the requirements again. The initiative asked for a small selection of original work and a short statement about each applicant’s artistic interests. I already knew that, but checking the details helped me make sure I hadn’t overlooked anything. The images needed to be clear, and the statement had to explain what I hoped to develop through the programme.

I opened a blank document and began writing. My first attempt sounded too formal, so I deleted it. I tried again, explaining that I was self-taught and had spent years drawing privately. I wrote about my interest in people and ordinary moments, and how I wanted to improve my understanding of proportions, shading and composition.

When I read it back, some sentences felt repetitive. I removed them and kept the parts that sounded honest. I didn’t need to make my experience seem greater than it was. I wanted the organisers to understand where I was starting from and what I hoped to learn.

Once the statement was ready, I returned to my drawings. I examined each one near the window, checking the details I wanted to capture in the photographs. The woman beside the open window remained my strongest piece, but the other two showed different things I enjoyed drawing. I decided to include all three rather than spend another week trying to make one of them flawless.

I photographed each drawing and checked the images on my phone. The first was tilted, so I retook it and made sure the other two showed the full pages without cutting off the edges. I saved the images with my statement.

The application form asked for my name and contact details, then provided spaces to attach my drawings and statement. I filled in the information, added the three images and included my statement. Before submitting, I read through everything once more. My finger hovered over the button while I considered whether I should wait until I had improved the drawings further.

I could always find another line to correct or another reason to delay. The portfolio-review session would give me a chance to learn what needed work, but the application deadline was approaching. I had prepared what they asked for, and I needed to let the organisers decide whether it was suitable.

I pressed submit.

A confirmation appeared on the screen, stating that my application had been received. It explained that the organisers would review the materials and contact applicants selected to move forward. There was no promise of acceptance, only confirmation that my submission had gone through.

I read the message twice before saving it. I had no way of knowing what the organisers would think, and the uncertainty made me nervous. Still, I had spent years keeping my drawings to myself. This time, I had chosen to let someone else see them.

I placed the sketchbook beside the portfolio folder and looked at the three pages I had submitted. They were not perfect, and I could already see details I might improve after the review. Still, I had finished the application instead of waiting for another excuse to delay.

For now, there was nothing more to do but continue practising and prepare for Wednesday. I picked up my pencil and returned to the woman beside the open window, ready to work on the next detail.