Rejected by Madrid's Fine Arts School: The Ironic Advice He Received

Rejected by Fine Arts: The Unexpected Plan B

A painter from Murcia, who left public school after only passing drawing classes, moved to Madrid to work as a construction laborer and applied to the Real Academia de Bellas Artes de Madrid. He received the letter he didn't want: he was not admitted. His question to an online community was simple: "What should I dedicate myself to?" The collective response was not a study plan. It was a distorted mirror of 20th-century European history.

The first wave of responses launched into a recurring joke: unify Portugal and Spain, invade Poland, write a book in prison, or grow a mustache. The pattern is clear. The profile of the rejected applicant—young, uncredentialed, artistically inclined, frustrated by a tribunal—triggered the oldest reflex on the internet: the parallel with the Austrian painter who was also rejected by the Vienna Academy. The joke, repeated to exhaustion, acted as a thermometer of despair: when the system rejects you, the forum offers the coup route as a career path.

What to Do When the Tribunal Says No

Beneath the jokes lies a real debate about career conversion and vocation. Some messages point to regulated training: there are medium and higher-level painting courses, and if you don't have a secondary education certificate, you can take an entrance exam. Another current insists on the autodidact path: learn by doing, without waiting for a tribunal to validate talent. And a third, the harshest, reminds us that the saturation of artists and footballers means most don't make a living from their craft: better to find a trade that pays the bills and paint in your free time.

The saturation argument is significant. The case of an industrial engineer who ended up making a living as an artist is cited, but with a demanded profession as a safety net. The implicit conclusion is uncomfortable: if you're going to live off art, you'll know before twenty; otherwise, it's wise to have a Plan B that doesn't depend on inspiration.

The German Route and the Joke That Won't Die

The option to emigrate to Germany and enter politics, starting with practice in Munich beer halls, is the most elaborate version of the same joke. Other responses point to politics as an outlet: start an internationalist party, grow a mustache trimmed at the ends so the gas mask fits, and find culprits for the partyocracy. The manual for the would-be dictator unfolds with a precision that is both chilling and funny.

Some lower their tone and offer concrete alternatives: sell paintings on the street, sleep in park benches, create giant graffiti as artistic revenge, become a glazier, take civil service exams, or dedicate themselves to musicology. The mix of useful advice and segarro sabotage paints a picture of a community that takes nothing seriously, not even others' drama.

The Disconcerting Fact: Goya Didn't Pass Either

Amid the noise, a historical fact repeats itself as comfort: Goya did not pass the entrance exams. Whether true or not, this anecdote serves to remind us that tribunals make mistakes and that art history is full of rejected applicants. Dalí is also cited, who told his final exam tribunal that they lacked the level to evaluate him. The sarracena is double: talent isn't always detected in a test, and arrogance is sometimes prophetic.

The most repeated advice, paradoxically, is the least spectacular: persist. In Spain, resisting wins. Vocation isn't decided in an exam room, and those who endure eventually find their place. The applicant's question remains without a definitive answer, but the chorus of responses leaves one thing clear: no one will take away his desire to paint.