My hands shook in excitement on that special day I received the letter. I knew I had gotten in; I was so sure of it.
They were somewhat interested in me; they had paid attention to everything I had said on the second and third painting.
So, when I opened the letter standing by the counter with Mother I started to read aloud, for both me and for her.
"Dear applicant, we are sorry to inform you that your applicat— "the letter explained. "What?" I whispered to myself in shock.
I had prepared for months on end, a thankless slog of rotating paintings to find the best of the many.
of it was wasted time, I was never going to get it back. It just made NO, GOD, DAMN, SENSE.
It had to be a mistake, it just had to be. I would go back East and have it fixed. It was going to be no big deal. It just wasn't.
I had done everything right, I looked at the admissions requirements and they were clear as day.
I needed to demonstrate a diverse skillset, and I had to show that I was a cut above the rest. Was that not enough?
If not that, what was it that made me fail? I showed the judges skills found in world-famous works, hours upon hours of effort.
Every demonstration was wholly unique. My work was one of a kind. If the abstract slop that stained the halls of the institution got somebody in, I was right.
If anyone had a right to enter the academy it was me. There had to be justice in the world.
"They had to have made a mistake. Right?" As looked at my mom, I just saw pity in her pale blue eyes.
"Yes, that's right, I know you, honey. Your art is one of a kind, even better than one of my friends I knew who went there in the 90's.
It must have been a mix-up. She said, with a gentle smile.
I just sighed and let go of my tight grip on the letter. As it fell on the counter, I forced myself to continue when I noticed something near the end.
I could apply for a second time. Spots will be open for review again next January through March.
As I read more about it, I could see a much messier scrawl near the end, it suggested that I apply for march.
As it would give me the most time to prepare. I just folded it and set it aside in the junk cabinet.
I would not need it. I was going to have this fixed. Just an error, it had to be.
Answers
I set out by train that Sunday evening. It was just a haze the whole ride. Just me asking myself why, why had I failed?
But as the train lurched to a stop I moved through the dark morning with purpose. I was energetic the full way there in the chilly air.
I had stopped for nothing. Not the road, not the food, and not the people. By the time I arrived at the administrative hall and looked at my watch, it was just six thirty, half an hour before opening.
So, I waited in silence.
By 7:10 I was allowed to enter, the man at the door obviously having enough of me just standing outside.
As I was walking towards the help desk, I noticed it was empty. Still being rather aggravated I hit the bell stationed in front one more time than necessary.
Out the door came a lady, clearly tired. "What do you need my assistance with sir."
Not wanting to be rude I took some effort to try and make my voice as neutral as possible. "I need to look at the current status of my application."
Understanding what I was trying to go for she then asked me if I had completed my review yet which I replied yes.
With a bit of surprise showing, she asked me a rather confusing question. "In January?"
This question also somewhat confused me, as it was a random one and self-obvious. "Yes, I did, just last week. It was on Saturday."
She turns around and picks out an almost empty folder, "Ah, I have it right here Adolf." With a long awkward pause she continues, "I don't know how to put this nicely, but you have been rejected."
I set my arms on the side of the counter; I have to admit that it hurt to hear, I had not been hurt like that in a while.
To hear that the letter was not some mistake, not some misfiled piece of paper being sent.
I had to accept that fact, and just move on with my life. No matter how I felt. It made me frustrated.
No matter how much I wanted to just leave, I had to know why. It would haunt me if I never knew the reason why my dreams were rejected. Why I just, was not good enough for them.
"What does it say?" I could see in her eyes that she was going to say she was unable to but then she stopped.
I think back as to why, and I can only put it as the desperation in my face that shone bright at that moment.
I just stood there with that look set on my face, until I received a response from her.
"The general response of it says that you wasted their time. Your art was not meeting what they believed to be the standard set by the Art Academy of Vienna."
After a long pause, she continued, "The main point provided was that "It was just too inhuman. Not enough feeling.""
I was just so angry hearing that, the work I put so much time and soul into degraded with those last eight words. I was put into a haze which I was only knocked out of when I arrived at home. At the door I was forced to kill my mom's smile.
I simply shook my head and went to bed dressed in all my clothes. I was just so tired then, I had stayed up for over 50 hours, not sleeping on either train ride.
But as I lay there I thought of the paper in the cabinet, I could not sleep. So, I grabbed it and wrote January 9th as my application date.
I would send it in the mail later, I was too tired.
If the Judges thought my art was inhuman and unfeeling, I promised to show them some artwork that was.