Blog #3: In-class critiques

For my rough draft of the artist statement, I spilled my thoughts on paper. I organized those thoughts into four paragraphs. The student who critiqued my artist statement told me to revise my conclusion paragraph because it was a little choppy. I also need to spell the word, Mediterranean, correctly.

Most importantly, I definitely need to revise my conclusion paragraph. I should add some important quotes and tie them into my artist statement.

Draft 2

Silence engulfed the dining room, my head resting on the palm of my hand as I twisted the spaghetti with my fork. Clearly, I was bored. My older brother, Omar, was sitting between my dad and myself. My dad was seated on the far edge of the dinner table. The spaghetti and meat balls on my father’s plate instantly disappeared. My dad began to speak like the beginning of a presidential speech as everyone quiets down to listen. Before he begins to talk, I heard noise coming from his throat like the sound of a motorcycle engine. My eyes were focused on him and he began to speak about his early days in the land of Palestine, neighboring the Mediterranean Sea and Jordan. I cleared my thoughts, he continued talking.


Politely, I interrupted my father and said, “Dad, why did you leave Palestine?” He told me he left Palestine because of the Israeli occupation. He left his county with tears in his eyes and headed for Saudi Arabia and lived there for a couple of years. Shortly thereafter, my father booked a plane ticket from Saudi Arabia to America. I visualized his arrival in America. It was like I was invisible and following my father. It was a misty, grey day when his plane gradually landed on the airport runway. Later on that dark night, my father was sitting inside his apartment building finishing up a college application. He mailed it off to the University of Berkley and was accepted. Unfortunately without sufficient money, he couldn't’t attend Berkley and switched to SDSU. He wanted to have a great house, a nice car and essentially a successful life. He had trouble trying to keep up with his culture and religion. College consumed all his time. He was clearly trying to fit into the American lifestyle. It was like he left his original ways and pushed them aside. He struggled with his identity as much as I did until he realized that he is an American Palestinian.


My father’s major influence was his own grandfather. My grandfather, the mayor of the town where they lived was the law of the land. He was a strong advocate for peace. People looked up to him and sought his advice. An adventurous horse man , he was a self-made man who actually built his own home. One of my father’s dreams would have been to build his own home for his family. This could perhaps explain why I have always been interested in architecture.



My father has been quite an inspiration that has made me want to triumph over adversity. I know that evidently, he symbolizes a man who is exceptionally hard working. He has told me that I should teach the next generation the importance of my cultural heritages, both Arabic and Hispanic. I must take the responsibility to ensure that the next generation understands their identity.