Uptight, Conventional and Inhibited
A long, long time ago in Hamburg. How long exactly, I have no idea, because our graduation yearbook somehow forgot to put a date on the cover. Today, while cooking, I remembered the article I contributed at the very last minute, just before the editorial deadline. The editorial team had asked whether I could fill the half-empty page that was still left in the magazine. So I spontaneously wrote a review of my art course. And yes, the teacher did not come across particularly well. But then, neither did we.
My article was titled “Uptight, Conventional and Inhibited”. It referred to us students, those of us who had chosen art as one of our advanced school subjects for the Abitur, roughly equivalent to A-levels. The title came from a comment our art teacher made about us again and again during those years.
Thinking about it today, I have to admit: Yes, we were uptight, conventional and inhibited. But we were also so much more.
We were curious, open and interested. At the beginning of the course, we were even motivated, passionate and in good spirits. We wanted to learn and experiment. We wanted to immerse ourselves in art, to be artists ourselves and to create something meaningful.
Our willingness was there. What was missing, unfortunately, was good guidance.
Mr Hertel, you meant well. You wanted to push us, shake us awake. And you weren’t entirely wrong: We were uptight, conventional and inhibited. But we were also so much more.
How we might have flourished under wise, generous and encouraging guidance! Without the heavy-handed approach and belittling criticism. “None of you are suited to an advanced-level art class anyway!” was one of the things we heard. The fact that we had chosen the advanced level precisely because we had already shown some talent in art classes in the years before didn't count.
My article in the graduation yearbook was youthfully critical, direct and, in many ways, not particularly reflective. It was more of an act of liberation.
Yes, there were inspiring moments in that art course too. I remember especially fondly our public exhibition and the vernissage after a semester devoted to sculpture. Each student had created several sculptures using all kinds of materials: soapstone, clay, wax and paper. We learned how important the plinth and the lighting – the stage, in a sense – are to the presentation of a sculpture. I still remember that today and think about it when decorating the house or visiting art exhibitions.
Our art teacher also taught us, or at least taught me, that art does not exist only in the finished work but also in the process itself. That was an important experience and it has stayed with me.
Today I had the impulse to apologise to Mr Hertel. To write to him and say that I regretted my critical article in the graduation yearbook. But as I type this, a very different kind of message is taking shape.
Yes, I admit it: We were uptight, conventional and inhibited. But why? What had shaped us? We came from different families and different life circumstances and each of us brought their own background.
And we were German. Cultural ideas about what is sensible, proper, beautiful or embarrassing also shape how freely, or how cautiously, we express ourselves.
How we might have flourished with a teacher who saw our strengths and encouraged them! A teacher who gave us more encouragement, more reassurance, more space and more warmth.
Perhaps that is the real insight that has stayed with me today: Mr Hertel may have been right in what he observed and still been wrong in the way he responded to it. He taught me something about art that I remember to this day. And at the same time, his approach did not exactly help our potential to flourish. Both aspects are true at once.
I believe that, in order to grow, people do not necessarily need someone to tell them what is wrong with them. They need someone who can also see what is still waiting to emerge in them.
Cover image: Clay figures, art at Phoenix Gymnasium Dortmund
First published: 11. December 2025
Comments