����������

Author: The Crusader Staff Writer, Helen Behe

College is like creating a painting. It’s not quite how you pictured it, a bit harder than you expected, and you’re halfway finished with it before you’ve got an idea of what you’re doing. But navigating the colorful college life is a skill acquired through experience, and each semester presents new adventures to learn from. As a Freshman, I knew that my Fall semester would be the first coat, and what I chose to depict would affect that painting for years to come. Hesitant at the outset, I picked a smaller brush and muted colors. But as the initial few weeks passed and classes began, I became more entranced with the world around me and wanted to put it on the canvas. I probably went a bit overboard, but I grabbed the biggest brushes and boldest colors and, best as I was able, depicted how I felt and why I felt. I remember looking back at my first semester’s creation during Christmas break of Freshman year. The result was not exactly fine-tuned, but beautiful all the same—an aggregate of assignments, midnights, wide eyes, and first times. Yes, I thought to myself. This is a good start. But I’d like to try some different colors too.

Sophomore year, I got a different color palette and new brushes. Best of all, I had good friends who were working on their own paintings, and we borrowed from one another’s paintings now and then. College is a picture from scratch, not paint-by-the-numbers, so even the mistakes I made gave the painting a distinctive flare. I’m not saying it was a good idea to nap instead of study, but it did splash a lovely indigo in an otherwise gray corner. One of the best parts about college is its mutability. Each new semester, and its subsequent additions to the painting, modified previous colors or added intricacies. I think the Basilica had a sturdy red shade to it when I first put it on my canvas, but many nighttime conversations in its shadow deepened��it to a striking cobalt. The dusky pink of the cafe, though simply sketched, was nonetheless evocative. But it was a late September evening in my Junior year that added the pleasant alteration of starry black.

Senior year is a conglomeration of 6 semesters worth of painting, and I’m working on my 7th. I know my brush strokes are now the steadiest they’ve ever been, and I’m more attentive to the details. There are scenes repeated, layered like leaves, that hold the painting together and give it consonance: the same roommate, same professors, same campus, same traditions that come with the seasons. They are a gold webbing throughout. Even the flecks of blue I spilled Freshman year are not the nugatory contributions I assumed them to be. I can’t say I’m done with the painting yet, or what my last brush strokes will depict. But when I graduate this May and hold my work out at arms’ length, I will finally observe the big picture. Yes, I’ll think to myself. This is a good start.

This article was originally posted in the Fall 2022, Issue 2 of The Crusader Newspaper.��Download the full issue.