Behind the Scenes of the Art Exhibit

 By Sidharta Selvaraja

A lot of us walk into an art exhibit without realizing how much work went into making it happen! I’m not talking about the paintings themselves—that part’s already acknowledged. Everyone assumes each piece took three months, and they’re stunned when they hear it only took two weeks instead. I’m talking about the entire setup of the exhibit.

Mrs. Nichols had to coordinate with Mr. K for days, organizing the stage setup and lighting so we could have the perfect space to showcase our work. They collaborated tirelessly, making sure everything looked aesthetically pleasing and cohesive.

Then came the preparation of the students’ pieces. We had to print out written descriptions for each one—titles, significance, and the mediums we used. That meant several trips to the staff office printer. I remember sitting on the floor with two other art students, backs against the cabinet doors, while Mrs. Nichols struggled to figure out how Google Docs worked.

Once that was done, it was time to hang our work—an ordeal that took two full days. We had to make sure nothing was crooked. I was especially on edge about this since I used four metal wire panels, two of which weren’t aligned properly, so I had to constantly adjust things to maintain a clean line of focus.

We even added personal touches to match our pieces. I added an array of red and speckled painted flowers, while Annie Li (12) arranged her artwork in the shape of a clock.

Then came the most daunting part: talking to our viewers. We all stood by our work, nervously shifting or straying away to ease the awkwardness, waiting for people to approach us. To our surprise, so many people showed up and asked both general and specific questions. I think I told the same story at least fifteen times!

At one point, Ian Dobson’s mom asked me—about one of my more emotional pieces: “Sid, you would tell me if you were suicidal, right?”

I told her I would, but assured her I wasn’t. We ended up talking about it for a few minutes, which definitely caught me off guard.

And even when I wasn’t explaining anything, it was refreshing to watch some viewers just silently observe, taking in the pieces however they wanted.

During the event, I had also set up a 3D sculpture table. A poor girl accidentally knocked one of the sculptures over, causing the bird that sat on top of it to fall and break. A friend ran to tell me, and when I arrived, the girl was sobbing hysterically as her mom tried to balance the bird back in place. I wasn’t mad—she clearly didn’t mean to. After a few apologies, I paused to figure out what to do. Then a friend suggested we lay the bird back down, feet-up, to make it look dead—an idea that actually deepened the meaning of the piece. From something tragic, something strangely beautiful emerged.

When the exhibit wrapped up, we took a group photo of all the art students, smiled, and left. I remember feeling incredibly accomplished—like I had just wrapped up my two-year art journey. I felt free. But I also had this lingering sense that something new was beginning—another artistic chapter waiting just ahead.