Hometown: Troy, Michigan, USA

High School: Public school, 477 students in graduating class

Ethnicity: Asian

Gender: Female

GPA: 4.3 out of 5.0

SAT: Reading 780, Math 800, Writing 770

ACT: 35

SAT Subject Tests Taken: Chemistry, Literature, U.S. History, Chinese

Extracurriculars: Troy District FIRST Robotics Team (information vice president); clarinet (marching band squad leader, symphonic band, symphony orchestra); Project LEAD (elementary events chairperson and hemophilia party chairperson); poetry club (president and founder); art (NAHS member, assistant teacher at Art Longlong Studio)

Awards: USA Biology Olympiad semifinalist; National Merit finalist; State Fish Art Contest, first place; CLASS National Essay Gold Apple Award; Science Olympiad State Competition GeoLogic Mapping, first place

Major: Undecided

Example college statement

“Paint this vase before you leave today,” my teacher directed as she placed foreign brushes and paints in my hands. I looked at her blankly. Where were the charts of colors and books of techniques? Why was her smile so decidedly encouraging? The sudden expectations made no sense.

She smiled. “Don’t worry, just paint.”

In a daze, I assembled my supplies the way the older students did. I was scared. I knew everything but nothing. And even in those first blissful moments of experimentation, it hurt to realize that my painting was all wrong. The gleam of light. The distorted reflection. A thousand details taunted me with their refusal to melt into the glass. The vase was lifeless at best.

As the draining hours of work wore on, I began wearing reckless holes in my mixing plate. It was my fourth hour here. Why had I not received even a single piece of guidance?

At the peak of my frustration, she finally reentered the studio, yawning with excruciating casualness. I felt myself snap.

“I barely know how to hold a brush,” I muttered almost aggressively, “how could I possibly have the technique to paint this?”

She looked at me with a shocked innocence that only heightened the feeling of abandonment. “What do you mean you don’t have the technique?”

It was as though she failed to realize I was a complete beginner.

And then suddenly she broke into a pitch of urgent obviousness: “What are you doing! Don’t you see those details?? There’s orange from the wall and light brown from the floor. There’s even dark green from that paint box over there. You have to look at the whole picture,” she stole a glance at my face of bewilderment, and, sighing, grabbed my paint-stained hand. “Listen, it’s not in here,” she implored, shaking my captive limb. “It’s here.” The intensity with which she looked into my eyes was overwhelming.

I returned the gaze emptily. Never had I been so confused . . .

But over the years I did begin to see. The shades of red and blue in gray concrete, the tints of Phthalo in summer skies, and winter’s Currelean. It was beautiful and illogical. Black was darker with green and red, and white was never white.

I began to study animals. The proportions and fan brush techniques were certainly difficult, but they were the simple part. It was the strategic tints of light and bold color that created life. I would spend hours discovering the exact blue that would make a fish seem on the verge of tears and hours more shaping a deer’s ears to speak of serenity instead of danger.

In return for probing into previously ignored details, my canvas and paints opened the world. I began to appreciate the pink kiss of ever-evolving sunsets and the even suppression of melancholy. When my father came home from a business trip, it was no longer a matter of simple happiness, but of fatigue and gladness’ underlying shades. The personalities who had once seemed so annoyingly arrogant now turned soft with their complexities of doubt and inspiration. Each mundane scene is as deep and varied as the paint needed to capture it.

One day, I will learn to paint people. As I run faster into the heart of art and my love for politics and law, I will learn to see the faces behind each page of cold policy text, the amazing innovation sketched in the tattered Constitution, and the progressiveness living in oak- paneled courts.

It won’t be too far. I know that in a few years I will see a thousand more colors than I do today. Yet the most beautiful part about art is that there is no end. No matter how deep I penetrate its shimmering realms, the enigmatic caverns of wonder will stay.

REVIEW

The use of dialogue in Elizabeth’s opening anecdote is particularly effective in drawing the attention of the reader while also conveying the sense of frustration Elizabeth felt in regard to her own artistic abilities. Her honesty concerning her feelings of inadequacy lend a candid tone to the essay and allow the reader to relate to her on a personal level. Furthermore, the author’s willingness to describe a situation featuring her own shortcoming suggests a level of personal humility.

Elizabeth has done an effective job of using a short personal story to frame a larger discussion of her progression as an artist. Her ability to overcome her early feelings of frustration speak to her character and ability to persevere when faced with a challenge. More importantly, her language regarding colors and how they have altered the way she views the world convey a deep sense of passion for her favorite pastime. Elizabeth could have done without the tacked-on mentions of law and politics, as they distract from the main theme. Still, overall Elizabeth has written an interesting story that speaks both about her character and her love for painting.

From 50 Successful Harvard Application Essays, 5th Edition edited by the Staff of the Harvard Crimson. Copyright (c) 2017 by the authors and reprinted by permission of St. Martin's Publishing Group.