Last year, I dedicated three straight weekends to meticulously moving clay figures at a molasses pace while carefully snapping a photograph of each one. I stayed in my friend’s blacked out dining room for hours meticulously taking thousands of photographs. In total, I spent at least ten hours towards a singular stop-motion video. 

Months later, at the MMEA (Midwest Media Educator Association) Film Festival—the annual award show attended by South’s TV Program—I anxiously awaited the Music Video category, hoping for an award for all of my hard work. As the announcer read out the places, I anxiously awaited my name or failure. Then, for second place, they called my name. 

I was ecstatic that it had been placed, smiling ear to ear, yet the feeling was short-lived. 

As I saw the first place winner, my gut started to sink. Why wasn’t my video good enough for first place? Why wasn’t I good enough for first place? I began to feel disappointed in myself. 

Suddenly, second place weighed down on me. The countless hours I had spent on my video suddenly seemed like a waste of time and immediately I began questioning the value of my own artistry. 

This is the fundamental problem with our attitudes towards award shows. 

Awards make sense for athletes as it pushes the limits of the human condition, driving people to run faster, play better, become stronger. Although loss can be upsetting for athletes, their score is typically clearcut and they can clearly witness their shortcomings. Art is not a sport; it is an objective language that allows individuals to communicate their unique worldly perspectives for personal interpretation. Rather than criticizing art, award shows have become public scrutinization. Art is supposed to be about collaboration and celebration, and yet in the midst of competition we have managed to pit artists against each other. This demeans the meaning of art in our society. 

Most of us buy into award show culture, as 44 percent of South students watch award shows, according to an unscientific survey conducted by The Oracle of 315 students. It is fun to watch all your favorite celebrities crowd into one room and carefully examine facial expressions to catch sore losers. However, we also subscribe to the idea that award shows determine the value of a piece, whether it is good or bad. 

Alfred Hitchcock, genre-defining horror director, had been nominated for four Best Director Awards at the Oscars five separate times and didn’t win once. The Shawshank Redemption, a 1994 movie that is well-renowned by film critics, was nominated for seven Oscars and lost every single one. Citizen Kane, made in 1941, is often cited as one of the greatest movies ever made, yet lost thr 1941 Oscar to How Green Was My Valley. 

Award shows do not accurately calculate the worth of a piece so why do we let award shows determine the worth of art?

I do not hate award shows. My favorite day of every year is when all my friends and I dress up to attend MMEA. I love watching work from other schools and feeling inspired to mimic their techniques and create even more. 

But, it’s time to ditch the toxic attitudes created by award show rankings. Art has a significant place in our society, and that place is not on a podium.