Gateway to British Art Prize 2023
First place: Kaylee Latta
Carl Jung once said, “The greatest burden a child must bear is the unlived life of its parents.” I think about this often, considering my own experience growing up was far from a fairy tale. While caretakers try their hardest to nurture a childhood warmer than their own, nature is undoubtedly cold and unkind. I feel robbed of the warm rose-colored glasses many of my peers had the chance to wear. Instead, I was demanded to zip up my coat and brave the storm. Now, the intention of my statements is not to merely throw a pity party for myself. In fact, everyone who has met me rarely gets that invitation. I am simply aware that everyone jumps hurdles of their own in their youth. Even the best parents miscalculate the route they expect to take. You may resent your mother or father. You may notice their worst traits carefully woven into your DNA. But they are still a part of you—to hate them would be to also hate yourself.
As I walked past this painting, I immediately resonated with the child. I saw myself in that blank expression, the sad eyes, and those hand-me-down clothes. The microexpression this child portrayed spoke to me. I felt discontentment radiating the longer I gazed into her eyes. The crossed arms added to this feeling and suddenly created a dialogue in my head. “I’m being strong—I’m being strong for both of us, Mama. I’m small and I don’t take up much space, but I can be big for you.” I so badly wanted to reach into that frame and wrap my arms around that baby. To do so would be to give my inner child a warm embrace. A child should not have such a heavy burden to carry: the most magical years wasted worrying about finances, Daddy’s drinking problem, and Mommy’s mental health. Maturity is not a compliment for a young kid. It is survival.
My eyes wandered to the left. I instantly felt sorry for this mother too. Her eyes sorrowfully peer at the floor as she anxiously twiddles the fabric on her skirt. This proves to me those shadows under her eyes are no coincidence. Has this life not played out the way she imagined? As she watches her baby grow, does she feel guilt and disappointment for not being the best caretaker? I felt my own experience flood my thoughts like a tidal wave. Bitterly, I began to judge her. I wondered if she noticed the stress seeping out of her pores, integrating with her child. Why has she tainted her child’s innocence? I noted the way her cuddle subconsciously morphed into a slight lean on her daughter’s sturdy little stance. The arm swooping around her tiny waist felt entirely heavy on my own back.
As I snapped out of my slight delusion and took a step back, I was impressed at my ability to awaken an entire narrative for a “simple” piece of artwork in a matter of seconds. How beautiful it is to see something through a lens of your own perspective. While my childhood was not the greatest, it helped me to become introspective and oddly observant, which is why I instantly became that young girl with good poise and disposition. I allowed my own mother to lean on me in her times of trouble. While this feels unfair looking back upon it, I stayed true to exactly what I said I would do—I’d be big and I'd be strong.