Upon entering the art building during my second year at San Jose State University, I had little idea of what awaited me. The hallways were lined with colorful posters advertising exhibitions, student showcases, and experimental projects.
I remember pausing outside classrooms and peeking in at spaces filled with unfamiliar tools, glowing computer screens, and walls covered in artwork. Inside, groups of students chatted with an ease that suggested both confidence and community.
In that moment, I felt like an outsider looking in, curious but unsure of where I belonged.
As a Communications major pursuing a minor in Digital Media Art, I signed up for these classes out of interest rather than experience. I wanted to learn how to use digital tools and explore a more creative side of myself.
However, because my main field of study was not very technical, I quickly found myself struggling to keep up. From the beginning, there seemed to be a gap between what I understood and what was expected of me in class.
Most of the time, I sat there feeling confused, while it seemed like everyone else knew exactly what they were doing. That feeling slowly turned into imposter syndrome. I began comparing my work to my classmates’ projects, which often looked more polished and creative than mine.
No matter how much time or effort I put into my assignments, I felt like I was falling behind. Their work looked intentional and complete, while mine felt uncertain and unfinished.
Presentation days were the hardest. In art classes, sharing your work is a big part of the experience, but for me, it came with a lot of anxiety. Speaking in front of the class, I often felt embarrassed by what I believed was mediocre work.
I worried about what others would think and whether they saw me as someone who did not belong in that space. At times, I questioned whether I could even call myself an artist. Instead, I felt like someone pretending to be one.
These feelings became even stronger when I started taking upper division courses for the minor. One moment that stands out happened during the fall semester of my third year. For our first major project, we had to create something connected to a database.
It was a challenging assignment that required both creativity and technical skill. As my classmates presented their projects, I noticed how clearly they explained their ideas and how well their projects functioned. In comparison, my project did not fully match the vision I had in mind, even though I had worked on it until two in the morning the night before.
While I appreciated my professor’s feedback, I left class feeling discouraged. It seemed like my work did not meet the same standard as everyone else’s. I remember feeling so overwhelmed that I wanted to cry.
Later, I vented to one of my friends who is an art major. They reassured me that professors mainly want to see effort and creativity, and that many students feel insecure about their work even if they do not show it. Hearing that helped me realize that I was not alone in feeling this way.
Instead of letting that experience hold me back, I decided to take action. The following week, I went to my professor’s office hours and asked for specific feedback on how I could improve.
Even though I did not have to redo the project, the advice I received gave me a better understanding of what to focus on moving forward. Over time, I became more confident in explaining my work and more comfortable completing coding assignments.
By the end of the semester, I had improved enough to earn a final grade of 100% in the class, which surprised me and challenged the negative thoughts I had about myself.
Even now, I still face challenges. Certain programs, like Blender, continue to frustrate me. In my current class, I often look around and see my classmates following the professor’s demonstrations at the same pace, while I am still trying to catch up.
It can feel discouraging to be a few steps behind, especially when it seems like everyone else is moving forward so easily.
To this day, I sometimes still feel like an imposter when I walk into that building. At the same time, I have developed a lot of respect for art majors and the effort they put into their work. Their projects reflect hours of practice, patience, and creativity.
While I may feel like I have not reached their level of skill or passion, I am starting to understand that growth takes time. My journey in digital media art may not look the same as others, but it’s still meaningful, and it’s still ongoing.
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