My mom said I should write about the ewok child.

So I’m tempted to discuss anything else out of spite.

Perhaps I could add to the growing number of posts on here discussing the role of social media as an artist, including my recent observation of “reposting” that makes so much sense, but was only noticeable when I finally looked. I could add onto that about the stigma of copying other artists, when that is among the best ways to learn. Or I could pivot and talk about the potential post title that kept me up the other night until I wrote it down: “Shameless Self-promotion and Ignoring the Celebrity Status.” Hey, wait a minute. This is the Christmas Season in America! I could have it all! (Confirming your suspicions: that’s a jab at consumerism) I’ll start with the ewok.

“I made an ewok. He kinda cute.”

One of the ways I’m making social media work for me now is by being more intentional while on it. I’ve gone out and looked for the cardboard artists I admire, and have taken note of the projects they’ve made that I “wish I could do.” most importantly though, I’ve engaged with other artists through the platforms. I comment things with more substance than “Wow!” or “Cool!” and if I have questions about a process, I just ask! This ewok made by @pizzadadcomic is just one of the projects I’ve engaged with and resulted in a creation of my own!

Another realization is key (for my personal growth) in this project: I didn’t rush it. That’s new. In the past, I’ve seen something like this, and have been like “that would be cool to make” and moved on. This time, I commented on the post, getting a response from the creator (motivation) but then held off to make it until—well—until I had time. Which was a two-day period several weeks later (12/23-24/2024). I did make mine on a smaller scale, but with similar technique, and similar results! It was reassuring to know that I could make something like that, and I did. I’m looking forward to “copying” more cardboard artists to learn and practice further techniques.

Those are my primary thoughts on the ewok project, and it seems to segue well into the thoughts I had recently on the celebrity status.

When interacting with people online, it’s SO easy to disaccosiate them from reality. They are, quite literally, a curated image for you to view. Personally, I know I make sure not to put out thoughts, ideas, and projects that would prompt people to view me as crude, angry, or indulgent. Other creators go as far as to wear a box over their head when recording any videos of themself, so as not to reveal their “real” identity. (@hectorsector13) They become a new person in their videos. So it makes sense why it becomes so easy for viewers and consumers to forget the reality of creators’ humanity. Don’t.
When interacting with Wesley Hall (pizzadadcomic) as shown above, his humanity was obvious. He’s a very down-to-earth kind of creator, very friendy, and helps at a makerspace in his community, so he surely has some experience guiding. On the opposite end of the scale would be somebody like Taylor Swift. Is she less human? No. In fact, she has the same capacity as Wesley Hall as an individual. What she does have that he does not, is a following a million times larger. More people want to interact with her, but it’s impossible for her attention to spread that far. So people get left out, and she achieves “Celebrity Status” because demand outweighs supply. Desired interaction outweighs her capacity.
Honestly, the easiest way to avoid acknowledging the celebrity status is to not be aware of their fame in the first place. There are people out there who don’t know who Taylor Swift is, and if they bumped into her on the street, would be just as likely to say “watch where yer goin!” to her as to anyone else. This lack of reverance happened recently to me with the CEO of Praisecharts, Ryan Dahl. I was surrounded by friends who are well-versed in the music world, and treated him with a sort of admiration (so it seemed) while I, on the other hand, was quick to hand him one of my cereal box business cards, and would you look at that! he’s now subscribed to my newsletter! (Thanks Ryan!) All this to say that Charles Duhigg would say and I would then say, “dehumanization spoils communication.” When interacting on social media, the last thing we should do is dehumanize, or let a celebrity status keep us from positive interpersonal communication.

Moving right along, I suppose I talked a bit about copying other artists to learn, but there’s another story to add! Professor Soderstrom told me once of his dislike of Picasso’s work. He thought it was pointless, and absurd (I’m paraphrasing), that is, until he did several art studies of the works. You see, Picasso knew how to paint realism exquisitely, but turned to the more expressionist form of art because it could communicate his message more effectively. Just because the works suddenly looked a whole lot weirder, doesn’t mean they didn’t have an even greater level of meaning behind them. Soderstrom only recognized the meaning when he studied them more deeply. Copying artists is good. (Just don’t profit off their work, there are laws in place.) The greater level of attention mimicry requires, cultivates a deeper appreciation for anything.

The last thing on my wishlist for this post is a comment about the “reposting” I’ve noticed by many popular artists on social media. I always wondered how they kept cranking out all this incredible work, posting daily projects that appear to have taken weeks. Well now I know. A single project can have as many as a dozen posts, spread over progress updates, the final piece, and adaptations of the piece to various media trends. And then—here’s the kicker—when they don’t have anything new to post, they repost an old project with common words like “throwback,” or they hold up in quick succession a slew of their works in a new reel. This is all sweet and dandy, but I don’t save my work! Maybe 10% of it is still in my possession besides photos. I don’t often save sketches if they’re on loose paper or in spiral-bound books, and I certainly don’t hold on to commissioned works or gifts I’ve made intended for others. I suppose I can repost the photos, but I cannot simply place them in a new context—only use what I already have.

I guess I’m a day late in finishing this post, so I can only say “Happy Holidays” after checking off my wishlist of comments. To respect the new observation about reposting, I’ll leave you with a random concluding thought from one of my past blog posts. Enjoy:

I have all the justification I need to scrap hours of work to pursue something I want to do more.

A Checklist Conclusion (Part 2)

If you didn’t read part one, click here for things to make slightly more sense. Read it? Great. Here’s the second part:

---

First, the promised portfolio.
This was the second pdf design of the semester, and they both thoroughly reminded me why I am NOT a graphic designer. Everything was aggravating. With sculpture, I most often enjoy the process and the result. With graphic design, I tend to despise the process and only like the result if I push through an extraordinary amount of frustration. Web design is a bit of a happy medium, since a site is more interactive than an immovable pdf. Alas, there was a requirement to be met, so I met it as I was able.

It looks fine… I just wasn’t proud of it. So I was ecstatic when a moment of inspiration hit me in the shower the morning after. 
If you’re here on purpose, and not just reading over somebody’s shoulder, you know that I love cardboard. In fact, I make a lot of cubes out of the stuff and have business cards made from cereal boxes… so why not a cardboard portfolio?
Picture this: artists from all over are wanting a position at some fancy firm, and come from all corners of the world with a massive canvas portfolio or fancily formatted website, all nothing you haven’t seen before. All until a guy hands you a 12” by 12” cube. 
On this cube is his work, with one face introducing him as an artist, and the other five showing work and process photos to give you just a couple sides of his art. (I think this is genius…) The cube could even fold out, (as Prof Soderstrom suggested) containing more images of work, or even a sculpture custom-made for the application recipient. Maybe I apply for a furniture company, and inside this cube is a little living room all made from cardboard. If I apply for a desk position, it could be a cubicle. Like opening a music box from a piano applicant. Of course, jobs that are requesting portfolios of work are art-related positions, but the cube would certainly stand out in any application process. As of this moment I have yet to design one (as again, it would be at least 6 faces of graphic design work, even if I take it in a sculptural direction), but I certainly plan to if and when I apply for creative positions down the road. 

As for the feedback I received during the conversation, sadly there was little. But it’s because I was so prepared! He was running a bit behind that morning, so I let him know I had already written at length all of my responses to the questions, and sent him the link to the part 1 post per his request. (I also delivered to him a copy of “Christina Katerina and the Box” by Patricia Lee Gauch which may have taken upwards of 5 of the 15 minutes to explain.) The next few minutes were spent excitedly chattering about the idea of a cube portfolio, as detailed above, and my dilemma with pdf graphic design. He thanked me for the preparation and grace allowing him to get back on schedule for his next meeting, but did not leave without discussion of the last question: What are your goals for next semester in the studio? As the first post explained, I will not be occupying an IWU studio the 2025 spring semester, as I am no longer a Studio Arts Major. Professor Soderstrom has introduced me to potential careers in “Design Thinking” (basically, creative-based HR), various firms, and other art jobs with the hopes I pursue a creative career. He seems convinced I would make a fantastic designer, and I can’t beg to differ. In the meantime though, I plan to complete my college degree and find opportunities on the weekends and over breaks to experience the worlds of art, education, HR, and business a bit more before launching into a full-time position following graduation.

Even so, those plans seem far off compared to the fast-approaching return to college and the 2025 Spring Semester. So what’s next? I’ll give you a hint…

I think it’s gonna be Wonderful.

A Checklist Conclusion (Part 1)

Finals are this week for my first semester of college, and my Ideation and Interpretation class is taking ours in a way I think fits perfectly with the class, and I might as well talk about it:

We were given three questions to prepare for a one-on-one 30 minute conversation between the professor and each pupil. There is no final essay or big test (the professor said he didn’t even know what he could put on a test) that wouldn’t make sense. Instead—because IWU is a small enough school it’s doable—Prof Soderstrom will conduct an official dialogue with each of us reflecting on the semester and how we have learned and grown as artists and people. We also will construct a detailed portfolio and answer a question regarding the joining of creativity and the kingdom of God throughout, but as a Human Communications Major the conversation is the portion I’m most excited about. (I will post the portfolio pdf on this website following its completion)

I’m writing this post in two parts: The first part (what you’re reading right now) is my form of preparation for the conversation. I am going through and answering the questions how I expect I may answer them in a couple days. I can go in-depth here, outlining my ideal response, and perhaps even reference the post when I answer him in person. The second part (what you’ll be able to read in a week or so) will be my reflection on the conversation after it has taken place. Prof Soderstorm always has this way of sparking ideas I’ve never even considered, so no matter how thorough I am in my preliminary thoughts and organization, I know his input will add more to consider. 

Without further ado, here are my preparatory remarks to the following questions:

How have you grown in your sense of form this semester?

Okay, this is the least exciting one for me, as it’s quite practical. As an art class, they are supposed to give us more tools to use as artists to then do the exciting thing: make stuff with meaning. That’s what a “sense of form” entails: an understanding of how to use tools to best communicate an idea. Whether an artist wants to believe it or not, there are sets of rules that can make a piece “work” better. Those rules can include color theory (which I know little about) , intentional shapes, a slew of symbolism, materials, linework, texture… if I sat here for fifteen minutes just thinking of all the methods of creating “form” I might think up a whopping 1% of the list. And I’d be impressed with myself. “Form” is incredibly broad, and that’s why the question is asking for “improvement” and not “mastery”. You can always improve your use and understanding of form. 

One of the things I learned about throughout the ART-101 course was massing variation (clumps of little things in contrast to large blank spaces) which showed up the most in my Amazon project and my photography of the diptych. In the Amazon project I used massing to highlight the “A” by intentionally adding more small layers around it; and in the photographs I left a vast expanse of black in the bottom of one, to draw the viewer's eye up to the small sculpture set atop it. 

Another tool I learned more about was the visual rhythm gained from using a pattern. Both from a typeface in the Amazon project (which showed up more in my preliminary shoebox than my wall hanging) and from golden ratio exercises. Sometimes young artists like myself can get stuck in the “I have to make something new and unique and awesome” phase and then never really create. These patterns give some structure to the projects, and insure the result will have some kind of order to it. 

There are surely several other ways I learned “form” throughout the course, but those (along with the “meaning in materials” I’ve written about) are the standouts.

How have you grown in your sense of concept this semester?

Well this question is thoroughly answered in my latter two projects: the diptych and the spaceship. Neither was just a “this would look cool” idea, but instead had layers and layers of meaning behind them. The diptych was quite personal, and I wrote extensively about my choice of mediums and the impact of autobiographical art in a blog post. And the spaceship boasted the visualization of childhood creativity, fulfilling a dream of mine in which every refrigerator box magically transforms into a spaceship or car or fort of some sort. I wrote about it and the runway show it was a part of in another recent blog post. 

Generally, I learned (or at least it has been effectively restated) that art is a way of looking at the world. The skills in concept creation assist in finding new ways to convey an idea in the physical space (as I am primarily a sculpture artist). 

This, as a college-level course, taught me about using art to mean something to the viewer–using it to prompt thoughts from an audience–similar to my AP 3D class in highschool. In that class, I had a whole year to think of and create a portfolio that drew from how “Fudged-Up” this world is to inspire a heart of reflection and change in the viewers. The dark subject matter was portrayed in an in-your-face diorama blatantly pointing out flaws in daily life. Suicide, overdosage, drunk driving, body dismorphia, child trafficking, and political deception were all visualized in a fairy-tale format to juxtapose our distance from the make-believe to the very real truth in front of us. While Cinderella’s pumpkin carriage isn’t real, some vehicles look worse than a smashed vegetable after a moment of irresponsibility. 

While we had less time and fewer projects to grow a sense of concept in this 4 month course as opposed to my year-long AP class, the diptych and spaceship show my continued growth well. 

What are your goals for next semester in the studio?

Well, I will not be in the studio next semester–at least not the school-provided space. As I dropped my Studio Arts Major earlier in the semester, I will just be taking the occasional art class as my schedule allows. To answer this question I expect to talk about my new personal studio I hope to be working on over winter break and prepping for use in the spring. While it will not be for specifically school-oriented projects, it will be for creative use, and I hope to make some epic stuff in the space. The floor will be Cheerios boxes and the walls the color of cheerios. And I will be the cheeriest guy in the world when I’m in that space, creating, unbothered by the abundance of worry education can happily provide. 

I hope to visit others in the Center Hall studios to encourage their works, and provide my limited insight and ideas occasionally, but will need to bring pictures of my work to share as opposed to dragging friends into a nearby studio to see what I’m up to. 

As I continue to work in a studio I hope to grow in my practical sculptural skills, learn new tools and methods for working with cardboard, and make more connections in the art world through media and events. I hope to bring work to a show this coming summer, and network with fellow midwest artists, hopefully planning and executing some collaborations! Due to my schedule, I will need to plan out time to work in the studio if I am to get anything done. Because of the slightly increased distance, I will need to be more intentional with my art time, but I believe it will be to my benefit. Having a very personal, official, more permanent studio space will allow for my creativity to flourish in larger, more complex projects, and I couldn’t be more excited for it!

In preliminary conclusion, I love that the final includes this conversation. Reflection is such an important part of the artistic process, and being given the chance to formally reflect with an instructor sounds invaluable. I will be completing the additional portfolio assignment throughout the week, and reflecting on my conversation in a second post. If you aren’t also a college student, try answering these questions by replacing “studio” with “year”. I think you’ll find more of an answer than you may expect! After all, humans are awesome in that

we can only experience more than we already have, never less.

SPACESHIP (Visualizing Childlike Wonder and Creativity)

Indiana Wesleyan University held their (I think he said seventh) annual Art & Design runway show this past Tuesday, December 3rd, and I had the privilege of taking part! Out of the 44 submissions, there were awards (via a panel of judges) given for Best in Show, Most Creative Design, Most Structural Design, one other (sorry I forget), and then a People’s Choice Award voted on by the audience. Each of the medals awarded were hand-crafted by our very own Professor Daniel Hall, who did some incredible work, and had the joy of tying each one around a winner’s neck. 

The show featured a (really awesome) shadow box each costumed participant stood behind before walking onto a stage. Then they did a little lap, potentially a big reveal, and then walked down a curved runway to showcase their work to the seated audience. There were emcees that introduced each artist/model and read a small excerpt each artist submitted about his or her work. 

As a student of the Ideation and Interpretation foundations art class, I was required to create a wearable sculpture for it, but of course I was more than happy to comply. I believe IWU opens entries to individuals beyond students, but exterior involvement has been minimal. Still, the turnout is fantastic, and the experience of witnessing all the student work firsthand is unmatched. Gallery work is one thing, watching the artist (in most cases.. some had alternative models) wear their own work and walk in front of you, is a whole ‘nother thing. 

The 2024 theme was “Transformation” and prompted several biblical metaphors of transformation in Christ. We performed brainstorming activities in class in which we chose a word, such as “order” or “peace” or “rigidity” and then found its opposite in “chaos” or “flowing” fitting to whatever the artist’s particular interests were. Then we were left to figure out how to transform the first into the second, or vice versa, through a wearable sculpture. I’m careful not to say “costume” because some entries were not fully covering the individuals–some were placed atop other garments. The criteria were pretty much just “follow the prompt and school policies”. Otherwise, we were left to decide whatever mediums would work best to execute our ideas.

My Entry

It will come to no surprise that I chose to make my wearable sculpture entirely out of cardboard.

My words for the brainstorming activity were “Ordinary” and “Wonderful” and whether subconsciously influenced by the book Wonder or the movie “Despicable Me” I knew right away that I really wanted to make a spaceship. And what better way than to follow every child’s dream and transform a large box into one?? The idea would be to visualize the creativity each child has in the head about refrigerator boxes they see, with the skills I have as a legal adult and mental child. 

The main challenge arose when I had to figure out how to logistically show a plain box… and then a full-blown spaceship. Yada yada yada thinking thinking thinking: solution. I eventually decided to only add details to one side, the “inside,” of the box, start with the plain exterior facing the audience, and then fold the box open for a dramatic reveal. 

I finished up the spaceship and made sure it logistically closed and opened… but then having four walls seemed like a bit much so I decided on a facade 3-wall design with a “do not press” sign on the fourth next to a launch button. It still felt like something was missing though: a helmet

So I made a helmet. 

Very anticlimactic writing here, folks. I needed a helmet so I made one. Luckily, I had some prior experience with a helmet I made for my brother (I wrote an Instructable about it) So it was only a matter of time before I had a cardboard astronaut helmet before me. 

Then came the acting recruitment. 

A crucial part of the transformation was the audience recognizing that I was representing the average child. As a 6’2” male obviously in college, that isn’t always easy to do. But it is, after all, the creativity of the child that willed the box to become a spaceship, so it wouldn’t make any sense if I carried the box on stage. What made plenty of sense was to have my Mom do it. So she lugged the box up onto the stage with a label “Trash” and then walked off, happy to have disposed of what she deems fit for the recycle. (For the record, my Mom is very supportive of my cardboard endeavors… she just wishes I would leave some floor space free of cardboard at times). Then when she had exited and the crowd was a bit confused (I was last, and nobody had left their costume on stage yet…) I did a little wobbly hop up onto the stage from the audience, wearing my astronaut helmet. The audience was surely confused as a bumbling, lanky boy stumbled on stage, and was shocked when I folded out the unassuming box into a rocket. They must have liked it quite a bit, because I won their votes and the People’s Choice Award!

Better than the recognition though, was the opportunity to share my love of cardboard with an audience, and potentially inspire the transformation of everyday recycle, what I really believe is the most accessible sculptural art medium, into something incredible. I will never be able to make the coolest thing out of cardboard, but that’s not the goal. The goal is to make stuff just good enough to

inspire others to make things that are truly amazing. 

Because I know the art department and their speed of releasing photos to the artists, I am going to post this without any paparazzi style photos (actually including me), and add them when I receive them. I was unfortunately running late and missed the individual photos, so I’m hoping there is at least one good one out there I might get eventually. There is a short clip on the @iwuartdesign Instagram that I’ll link here in the meantime (I show up at the very end for a second!) Enjoy!

Art and “the Media”

There are a few parts to this thought: 1) How I wish art was portrayed, 2) How art is often portrayed, and 3) How I idealize a partnership of media and art (how I think maybe I could make both work) Here it goes:

The Portrayal of Art

The best part of art is… heh. just kidding—there are so many good parts. It’s therapeutic, it’s an outlet for thought, it’s an expression of self, it’s a way to share without language barriers, it’s a cultural connection point, it’s an eliciting of emotions unlike any other. All of that is great. One part however, that it isn’t viewed as great often enough, is art being “accessible”. Once you start calling yourself an artist, as I have, it’s easy enough to preach on the lack of barrier into the world of art, but those who insist on saying they are “bad at drawing” are the ones who need to understand “drawing” is nowhere near the conclusion of “art”. Are sculptists fantastic at drawing? not necessarily.. I wouldn’t even say that I’m very good at drawing, in relation to the countless more practiced artists out there. Good is relative, and always an unfair term to use when referring to art. Art is personal, not subjectifiable. Art is like a childhood blanket. It looks like rags to everyone else, but to that one person… it’s everything. The power of art is that that attachment can be shared (but sure, not with everyone). Not everyone’s going to look at a white canvas and be prompted to contemplate the emptiness in their soul without love. Most people will just think it’s stupid, and the artist didn’t try. I used to be that person. Art is accessible because “art” is a way of looking at the world, and anybody can choose to alter their perception just that little bit. I just wish art was portrayed more often as this deeper connection of people with the world around them, and not as some out-of-reach “talent” given to a select few individuals.

The Idealized Relationship of Artist, Art, and Media

I’ve tried, over the years, a few methods of involving myself in video and content creation, but none of them stuck. I tried with Minecraft (of course) and with art, but I was too naive to see how the industries actually functioned. With more open eyes I can now see past the curtain a little clearer, and am considering stepping into it once again with a renewed idea.

Basically, I want to consistently make “fan art”.

But not only as a “fan”, instead as someone who is willing to look further into the media itself and explain a bit more about the subject and the medium I choose to re-envision a part of it in.
I really enjoy the matter I discussed in-depth in the post “Meaning in Materials…” in terms of using something to make the art that more closely relates to the art. For example, if I were to do a drawing of a Red Robins, I could use a standard ball point pen I had lying around… or I could use the set of four crayons I got as kid when I went to Red Robins for my birthday. Which has more meaning and makes the art worth more? (Again, keep in mind the value of art is hardly ever in the physical item—unless it’s jewelry in which case the precious gems have alternate value points—it is most typically in the meaning and layers of thought behind it.) The crayons would give a vividly different appearance than a ballpoint pen, but would also mean far more because of their emotional connection to the establishment. We are, first and foremost, emotional creatures. Art simply has an innate ability to tap into that emotion.

If I am to reenter the field of entertainment with a renewed purpose, I think that purpose should be similar to my core intention for this blog: Connecting my interests to “art” (a unique way of viewing the world).
Just thinking about the breadth of possibilities makes me overflow with excitement. (I was talking a mile a minute to my Mom about the potential of such a focus).
By not saying “Oh I’ll just stick to Minecraft” or “Oh I’ll just stick to making stuff out of cardboard” (even though there are COUNTLESS ways to go with either of those mediums) I can instead connect them, along with a multitude of my other interests, to new things as I find them. I do also quite enjoy the game “Satisfactory” and have played a little “Stardew Valley” and I admit, a bit of “Fortnite”. How then, can I connect those interests to art and explore the aspects of the games I am most interested in through mediums off of the screen that I can then relay through other peoples’ screens? In other words: How do I show what I appreciate about things I appreciate to others? That is the question I think expanding into content media could answer.

To be realistic, and not just naively optimistic, I can and will create a feasability plan (because thanks to Innovate WithIN I know how they work). I can look into the practical creation of the media, and which outlets to use. I can look into Patreon and sources of income and ask things like: how could the different streams be used as marketing? And of course most importantly, how can I provide something useful to people that will inspire them to create their own magic? How can I encourage others to follow their innermost desire to express themselves through the multitude of mediums available to them? If someone doesn’t like to draw, how can I show them the zillion other choices they have?
There is the business aspect to view practically, if I am to pursue this as an outlet for art and an opportunity for financial feasibility; but there is also the aspect of how I function as a person. What I have observed over the years (and those close to me have also observed) is overflowing passion… that quickly dissappears entirely. They can be called “phases” or “obsessions” or really anything that refers to a finite period of interest. During those times, I’m all in—super invested in that thing, whatever it may be—but then after a while I move on to something else. Such is why I have not been able to do something like content creation consistently… because my interests have changed too quickly and I have been too young to recognize that, or be aware of the brain patterns. Now that I am more aware, I can plan for those kinds of shifts in obsession, and adjust the plan to fit the changes.

So maybe this is a possibility: create, as I love to create, and connect whatever I am currently obsessed with to art, as I have been able to consistently revisit with this blog! I know I will always want to explore more with creativity, and will always be able to return to it, whatever the interest (art is too broad to ever be irrelevant) so maybe I could make this work. Maybe, just maybe…

…this is the right angle for my content creation.

What Francisco de Goya, Nick Cave, and Nathan Foley have in common.

I’ve been writing a lot of papers recently for my various classes, and once I finish this I should probably work on another one… but as a conversation with a friend recently reminded me: this website is a healthy outlet! and health is crucial when in the frenzy of finishing a semester strong.

Since I’m in the academic mindset as I write this, a fun thing to note is the drastic difference in ease of synthesizing topics you already know versus those you don’t. While for classes, I need to research nearly entirely new material for the topics the papers need to address, for this blog I can instead draw from all of the art I am and have already been experiencing. Because I already know so much (relatively, about art), and am actively learning and reflecting so much about art, it’s a whole lot easier to write about. Hence where the strange array of artists comes from. I can pull not only from new experiences that prompt the reflection, but also from anything previously absorbed. It’s fun!

Fransisco de Goya

Probably the most famous of the three (and definitely the most dead) the Spanish painter Goya lived from 1746 to 1828. This isn’t a history blog, so I’ll get write to it: This is how Goya painted at first…

Señora Sabasa Garcia, c. 1806/1811, oil on canvas, Andrew W. Mellon Collection

https://www.nga.gov/features/slideshows/francisco-de-goya-spanish-1746-1828.html#slide_1

…this is how he painted when war broke out in Spain…

The Third of May 1808

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Third_of_May_1808

…and this is how he painted after Spain fully was devoured by war and his health began to fail:

Saturn Devouring His Son

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saturn_Devouring_His_Son

Let’s just say… his work changed. quite a bit.
Why did it change? Well, as a painter, he likely drew upon what he saw. He began as a commissioned artist, painting beautiful portraits, and gained popularity, recognition, and wealth through that avenue. As his country (that he surely loved) began to fall into ruin, however, his perception of the world changed. He started to relay that change through his paintings, now reflecting the disastrous state of his world. His health declining surely didn’t help, as his thoughts became darker and he painted his famous 14 “Black Paintings” never meant for publication. He seemed to draw his inspiration from two things: the State of his Country, and the State of Himself.

(As for why I know about Goya, I researched him for a Spanish project in high school. I’m sure he was quite an influential painter, I just never would’ve looked into his history if not for the assignment. It’s a bit dark for my taste. But hey, he helps prove the point I’m getting to…)

Nick Cave

My Ideation and Interpretation class (ART-101) was recently introduced to the “Sound Suits” works of modern artist (born in 1959), Nick Cave. He creates performance-based works that don’t allow for discrimination of race due to their full body-suit coverage and outlandish appearances:

Nick Cave’s “Soundsuits”

https://www.torranceartmuseum.com/staffpicks/2020/8/5/nick-cave-written-by-jason-jenn

They’re wild, and there’s a lot to them, but I’m most interested in the button dealer. Pause. A button dealer? Yeah. When our professor introduced Cave to us, he showed us an interview clip that included the story of Cave’s unique need for buttons (for the suits of course). As he was searching, Cave just happened to run into this guy on the street selling a ludicrous amount of buttons. Perfect! that’s just what he needed! This guy he found actually had also recently purchased a button factory. What are the odds?? So now Cave had/has a source for thousands of buttons for his costumes. He made a connection, and that connection enabled him to create. That is, what helps him is his State of Connections.

Nathaniel Foley

That of course leaves us with the third artist, a friend and professor (at UIndy, not IWU, sadly), Nathaniel Foley, who prompted this post with his artist’s talk at the 22nd exhibition of his works titled “Flight of Obscurity” at Huntington University’s Robert E. Wilson Gallery which I had the pleasure of attending on November 15th, 2024.

One thing Foley talked about was how his Dad is an airplane mechanic and can collect discarded parts for his sculptures. (He also talked about his use of a gallery space and desire to avoid a sterile white box appearance, opting for the purposefully confrontational approach. And he talked about his use of form and angles to show motion. And how he has to fight gravity with suspension. And how the rivets and wire used are aircraft-grade, authentic to the real deal. And his limited implementation of color.) The key here though, for the sake of this synthesis, is the connection he has with aircraft. He made airplane models up until college (when he got busier) and was always around tools, working with his hands because his Grandpa and Dad were mechanics all the while. His connections and upbringing inspired his art. (See the dots connecting? Goya’s environment inspired his art, Cave’s connections inspire his art, and both Foley’s environment (growing up), and connections (family) inspire his art.) Even another element, the industry of aircraft itself, inspires Foley’s work. For example, the obscurity of the sillhouettes in his interactive booklets at gallery shows match that of military memorization of aircraft sillhouettes for identification purposes. Of course, the materials are directly pulled from the industry, and the motion represents that of planes in flight. So much is inspired by the material already out there, on top of his personal experiences.

When I asked Foley “what if your Dad was a auto mechanic instead of an aircraft mechanic? would you then make sculptures based on cars?” He nodded along and seemed to agree with the hypothetical. He believes what would have still been present, even if hsi work was based on cars instead of planes (or who knows what else), is the desire to work with his hands and create the forms along a similar style. But we’ll never know exactly how it could’ve happened, because we only have the product of what did happen.

If you haven’t yet pieced it together from my eclectic writing, the thing the three artists (and all artists, really) have in common is inspiration. Goya, Cave, and Foley all were influenced by their personal experiences, but they also all chose something specific to focus more of their attention on for continued inspiration. Goya - current events and his declining health; Cave - motion and the language of dance; and finally Foley - the riveting art of aircraft.

Therefore I will leave you with this: if your life feels asgiving you enough inspiration on its own…

just look up.

On Adaptability and Switching Majors

As I seem to be mentioning frequently, and realizing even more frequently: change comes at you fast.
While I haven’t experienced it directly for a while, loss is one such sudden change you have to learn to deal with out of the blue (and my favorite color is red… so I’m not a fan of the blue to begin with). On most occassions you don’t get to sit there and think clearly “what would I do if x, y, or z happened to my loved one?” and even if you did I doubt your emotions would allow you to make a clear conclusion. Oh, and whatever conclusion you may have come to would never play out according to plan. I made such great plans on how I was going to be productive every day at college (cold showers, regular workouts, eating healthy), and I do get really good sleep compared to most other students… (we don’t talk about the other goals)
I’ve had to adapt, and need to adapt even more to make the best out of my ever-changing situation. Now that I know more about how life in college operates for me, I should take some time to revisit my goals and plans for reaching those goals—including the ever-present “major” decision.

A major in Art

I worry. I really do. I’m afraid that I would burn myself out filling the day with creativity. But then I go about the rest of the day dreaming of filling it with creativity. (Part of the hills and valleys—iykyk). A day will come along where I just want to create, and I’ll do it for hours and hours, and the next day I’ll waste away in disgust of myself and my lack of “productivity” and convince myself I can’t be sustainable about it (even though I’ve proven otherwise at points).

[Editing thought: I’m not sure how I want to structure this post: Do I start with my thoughts on the major decision? or do I start with the importance of adaptability in life and art? or do I jump around back and forth like the madman I am?… hmm… well we know the answer now]

Advantageous Adaptability

I could quote Randy Jackson, who is credited with “You never know what the future brings,” but I’d rather quote the sound of music, and Julie Andrews singing “What will my day be like… I wonder.” (I Have Confidence). The same amount of uncertainty carries, and the same lack of knowledge is evident whenever we think to the future. We just don’t know what’ll happen!
Therefore, the very best way to prepare for inevitable unexpectedness is to improve the traits of adaptability.
1. Flexibility 2. Acceptance 3. Compromise 4. Openness 5. Willingness to Change 6. Most of these are synonyms I just felt like numbering… the idea is there though (could be/surely has been refined by an academic).
Really, the easiest way I can think of to define adaptability is to juxtapose it with rigidity and stubborness. If something doesn’t go your way, the worst way to react is unmovingly. What do you think you will gain without any change in your methods? It didn’t work the first time… why would it work the second? When stubborness prevails, so does argument and consequent pain, power struggles, and really nothing constructive. If anything is constructive, it is a consencus of sorts, or a coming-to-agreement that has nothing to thank the stubborness for. Stubborn people will not always get what they want, so it’s best for both sides to practice flexibility.

Stories really are best, and Malcolm Gladwell tells stories quite well, especially in Talking to Strangers. He opens the book with a devastating story of (spoiler alert) a police encounter with a lady who decides to smoke during the “procedural” pull-over. The cop demands she put out the cigarette, not out of necessity, but out of stubborness and a desire to exert dominance over the inferior driver (or at least, that is how I interpret the actions). To conclude the story, the cop violently pulls the woman from her vehicle and arrests her. She then is said to have hanged herself in a cell within days. I know how little the story may seem to relate to art, and it’s quite extreme, but it’s an example of where compromise would’ve made a huge impact (saved a life). Adaptability was not evident in this interaction. At least not in any positive manner. The fault wasn’t even only on one party: the lady could have just put out the cigarette, or the cop could have just let it burn. Neither adapted to follow a predetermined set of politeness or positive values they trained and practiced for stressful scenarios like a law enforcement interaction.

While I don’t expect many people reading this blog—including myself—to regularly experience such an extreme case of unbending wills, there are much smaller conflicts to which adaptability can help stupendously. Such as art! (See how it all connects so I can say this blog has a central theme… see??)
I’m sure a great example is client work… but I can’t say I’ve ever worked closely with clients before. The commissions I have completed, the buyers tended to entrust me fully with the project after brief descriptions and minimal instruction. I trust if/as I extend into the (more) professional world, that will not be the case, and close client contact will be more expected and necessary, especially for larger works. I imagine compromises will need to be more frequently made to what may be my creative vision in order to more accurately align it with a client's.
On a project to project base, whether or not it is commission work, adapting on the fly can also prove to create a better finished piece. Say you accidentally spill coffee on a section of a portrait piece. You could either yell in frustration and shred your precious canvas, or you could incorporate the stain in a way that makes the piece even more personal. I know Bob Ross said something along the lines of “There’s no such thing as mistakes; only happy accidents” and I heard it first in elementary school when mistakes were abundant. While the saying may not fit into many areas of life, I’ve realized how excellent it is for art. Even with some of my smaller pieces, there are concessions made throughout the piece based on how the materials were behaving. Maybe an arm wouldn’t stay connected, so I end up positioning it in a way I hadn’t considered before, but looks even better. Adaptability is less of a tool to have in your toolbag, but rather a valuable skill to ever-improve and practice.

As promised, a return to the subject of Majors

To the few current college kids who may read this: How is this going for you?
To the few college graduates who may read this: How did you do it?
To the few kids reading this: …good luck!
To everyone else: Got any good duck jokes?

I love art. But do I want to learn about art? Of course! But do classes feel like creativity limiters? Sometimes, but they often spawn the best ideas in the first place! What lovely conflict. Let’s think cost: aaaaaaaaah. nope. let’s not. (a common theme in my life so far). The practicality of learning something you’re interested in is: you get better and know more. The downside is…
So anyways, about the stigma of artists not making money and the potential reality of my prospective reality of me potentially prospectively possibly (yeah I don’t know what this sentence is accomplishing). I want to be generous with money, but it’s a lot harder to do that without money. So I want a career that allows for that. I don’t know if it’s a hurdle I need to jump over, a fear I need to confront, or what, that is stopping me from seriously considering a career in art. I’ve always viewed it as an impossibility—something I would LOVE to do, but just… y’know… shouldn’t. I have “so much potential” and could “do anything I set my mind to” and my Valedictorian speech emphasized “living for memories, not money”. Reading this I feel stupid. but mainly disappointed. I don’t seem to be following my own advice. To even myself (if I look from outside of my head) I seem to not be pursuing a life I am passionate about and could succeed at if I set my mind to it. I just would need to set my mind to it as I haven’t yet.

The Super Unhelpful Feedback I Receive (which doesn’t help my ego)

Writing this down seems pushing the line of boasting, and I don’t under any circumstance desire to do such a thing, so I must preface it: this is just what I have heard. I am not saying that I am told “you could accomplish anything you set your mind to” as a boast, but as a dilemma easily interpreted as egotistical and haughty. That is not my intent. Now I will proceed:
While it is justified per the laws of child raising that my parents would say such things as, “You can do anything you set your mind to” and “You’re going to do great things, I know it,” it’s sometimes near strangers telling me these things. Can you imagine how unhelpful that is when trying to decide what career to pursue??! I wish a couple people would (in an unbiased manner) tell me exactly what I would find the most joy in and be best at and should put my time into. That’s where the adaptability and major decision are an issue: I don’t know what major I should adapt to.

Art: I could learn more about what I know I love, but worry I would snuff out the passion with too much structure.
Communications: I could read the materials I am provided and show up to classes, completing well-intended assignments and hopefully learning helpful tips along the way, perhaps eventually sparking deeper passion towards interaction in non-creative contexts.
Business: I could use my communication skills and adaptability to succeed financially, and try and maintain passions on the side to make up for the potentially mundane work of a non-centrally-creative job.

Those are some extremely biased takes, as I’m currently in an art-biased mindset after an inspiring discussion with an art faculty member. He let me know his unique perspective: Not becoming a photographer as his major would suggest after he realized he was more passionate about contributing in the ways he does today (similar to another faculty who went from a furniture design degree straight into the set design industry). This person’s input therefore was the opposite pushing me to do something I’m not passionate about. He made sure to clarify that rather than just wanting me to pursue art because he loves art, his only worry was that after seeing the potential I have through how I view art and approach life (and the skills I’ve developed thus far in writing and visual communication, etc.) that if I was passionate about it, I wouldn’t “stop trying to run before I’ve even walked” (paraphrase). I shouldn’t give up before I’ve even started. “You’re the least qualified you’ll ever be right now,” he said. Because every time I try again, I’ll improve.
Besides the general encouragement to pursue what I find most fulfilling over well, anything else, that was my main takeaway. Because yes, I’ve consistently looked at the art field as a thousand foot mountain I’ve only climbed a hundred feet of. The barrier for entry seems so far away I look at the ground and it’s almost comforting. The peak is daunting. I hope to take that advice and carry it into something I enjoy, and that just might be art. I said in my Valedictorian speech “I’m planning on pursuing art, and I’m sure you all know it’s a veeerrryyy lucrative career… (It’s not) but I’m not worried about it! Because I know for a fact that I would rather live in a van and make art than live in a mansion without joy.” (or something along those lines).

Boy do I want that line to stay true.

Meaning in Materials and Autobiographical Art

With college comes a slew of self-reflection, and I have the privilege of being in a class called “Ideation and Interpretation” which prompts this reflection through art. My most recent piece represents a huge part of my life, and while I won’t be sharing the details online for obvious reasons, I will share the generalized takeaways that those who know me could more accurately interpret. I hope they take it well, and not with regret, as (like a sea turtle) I am so much stronger because of my experiences.

The Assignment:
Our task was to create a diptych (set of two pieces that inform each other) related to Ecclesiastes 1:9 (What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.) a kind of desperate cry about the omnipresence of the past, versus Isaiah 43:19 (Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.) praising an ever-new present. The pieces were to be based off of an artifact (beit from a museum or our own lives) as it relates to time. The prompt was generally percieved as a “What did this used to look like, and what does it look like now?” relation to time, going as deep as the artist wanted it to. Some toys, items from their youth, or things significant to their parents were common. Lots of colorful pieces being compared to a worn, old, used look of the second—a fair representation of time.
Once I understood the prompt, an item popped right into my mind: a spyglass.

Choosing your Materials
Something rightfully emphasized in the introduction to this project was the importance of the materials for informing the piece. If you choose wood, perhaps the idea you are trying to portray is reliability, frequency, or even flammability. How smooth you render the wood can communicate the age of the item, or how much care was put into its production. Is the wood painted? stained? partially burnt? chipped? sanded and left natural? sharpied? marked, beat-up, missing? Every little detail can communicate something in the final piece—and that’s just talking about wood! What if you chose clay? plasticine? wax? glass? sand? canvas? paper? metal? an old blanket? Every material can communicate something wildly different from the others—and still be interpreted differently by each observer because of their past experiences. People may someday interpret my works (as I expect they will be primarily cardboard) and think… “now why is it made out of cardboard?” unknowing that I simply just love cardboard. Any elaborate explanation they came up with might mean something to them, and be a valuable learning experience… but I probably didn’t intend it. I have used cardboard from meaningful boxes in the past, for projects like the Surebonder Commission:

The Surebonder Commission/Trade

I used not only random boxes I already had, but a box that Surebonder used to send me their glue guns. This can be seen by the visible text to the right of center.

But, most of my projects are made from cereal boxes I’ve collected from my family, friends, and my community, which I almost said means little to the project, but that would be incorrect. Even just using the cereal boxes I’ve collected translates to: something from a community of people I care about (the box) is used in this project, no matter who is recieving it. Materials mean something, whether or not they are intended to mean anything at all.

For this assignment, I chose wood for one figurine, and plasticine for the other. Completely intentionally. The intentions may be made more clearly shortly, in the explanation of the project’s completeness. But first,

Some Benefits of Autobiographical Art:
I’m no therapist (yup, that’s right. DEFINITELY not a therapist). However, even I can tell you how surpressing the past doesn’t help with either the present or the future. You (yes you) are always going to be a culmination of your past, and will always be looking to repair broken relationships or fix things you broke while trying to repair broken relationships, or at the hindsight of realizing you didn’t actually fix it and you made it worse and now you have to do your very best to fix THAT all the while learning how to LIVE LIFE *gasp*. (Anyways,) Wherever you go, there you are, and your past is what makes you, you. Now back to art! Art is a fantastic resource to work through the past on your own, but also with other people. By explaining your work and giving them a way to visualize it, you open a path for them to relate to you and help heal the hurt or celebrate the joy that is communicated through your work.
What I’m learning more and more being around the art department is how little the (what I’ll call) “percieved skill” in a work matters. I say this to denounce my past interpretations of all modern art being “stupid” because it doesn’t look like a photorealistic elephant made from crayons. Instead, it is an artist trying to communicate something; often an abstract idea that can’t be put into a recognizable image. It instead needs to be relayed through a combination of feelings and expressions communicated through materials, shapes, colors, and way more thought than you could think would go into it. And yet still more thought can always be taken from the final work than went into it. Not to get too off track, but we had a group critique of our first project, and our professor had us first describe what we saw and try and interpret the work before the artist themself spoke. It was eye-opening, because it made hugely obvious the inability of any artist to communicate one clear message through a work. I know what I was trying to accomplish with this piece…

An assignment for Amazon. Mine did not win, but I mentally won because I learned more about perspective and informing the viewer in ways more visually intuitive than the little paragraph of words you attach. 

…but everyone interpreted it differently. Did they all see the footprint I spent an hour carving out? Not necessarily. Was everyone’s attention drawn to the same thing? Nope. Did they overanalyze my use of red (when I just like the color)? Of course.
WOW am I off-topic. This was not an auto-bigoraphical piece, but it was interpreted by different people differently despite me having one (and really only one) idea of the message I was hoping for it to communicate. So while your art may communicate something to you, it may communicate something entirely different to someone else. When it is from your own past, however, the most valuable part of the process is putting on paper (or in sculpture or other medium) how you feel so that you can analyze it. It is the most self-centered art, but that is often the most beneficial for the artist themself. They can finally release something into the piece that they’ve had to carry with them for so long. While the past will stay with them, now they can view it in front of them and make more sense of it. Improved clarity on the topic is attained.

“Reality is a One-Way Mirror” — My Project (finally)
As I’ve mentioned, these pieces (plural because it was a diptych: two sculptures contextualized by the window) are meaningful beyond explanation to me. But I’ll do my best to explain some of the meaning that may resonate with somebody somewhere.

My item was a spyglass I recieved right before entering middle school from an incredibly influential person in my life. When I was given it, they told me they would be there to guide me through the trials of middle and high school and pick me up should I stumble. Well, six months later they were out of my life and unreachable. They simply weren’t there. Not dead, just not present. The spyglass was put in a box for a move and didn’t receive much attention for those six years I had hoped for mentorship and didn’t receive it.
My project reflects this in a way that relates to any past experience with a window of one-way glass showing how we view reality. We can look back all we want on the past, and what we have experienced, or others have experienced, but no matter how hard we try and look into the future… a mirror stops us. You can’t see the future.
On the side of the past, happily looking towards the future is perhaps the most innocent boy I’ve ever been, expectantly imagining a future in which joy is all I see.
On the side of the present, looking back, weeping, sobbing, reaching desperately towards the glass, longing to warn or change or prepare… is me now. It’s me after the experiences (beyond just the spyglass) I could’ve never expected or planned for.

Perhaps my future self will look back at me now in pity, experiencing greater joy than I could ever think possible. Perhaps he will think of me as lucky after he has undergone worse. I can try to prepare myself, but

I will never know my future; only my past.

…That’s a bit of a dark ending. How about a joke? Who just spent their precious time reading this and will never get that time back? Hah: You. But I spent even longer writing it.

I called it! (unsurprisingly)

I’ve written all about how “I want to pursue art for fun, not as a career.” and yet proceeded to attend Indiana Wesleyan for their art program. An incredible program it is, that I will continue to be involved in… but no longer as a major. Shortly into the semester I changed my (triple) major to not include Studio Arts, and dropped one of my two art classes. The time requirement was stretching me so thin (already) that I couldn’t put much energy into either of the art classes while staying on top of my other 5. Besides, cardboard is everywhere, just like learning opportunities when it comes to art. I’d argue nobody needs formal education to succeed in art. But it has its benefits!

IWU’s art program has faculty there to help and guide you every step of the way. Beit idea formulation, a roadblock in the middle, final touches, and safety along the way, you have someone there to help you. Approaching art without the help can be far more daunting, and take more willpower and more determination to succeed. Yes, the classes take willpower, but to make it on your own would be a bit different. You’d need to source your help elsewhere- through friends, coworkers, and family members. You would need to seek people who can critique your work and offer genuine feedback instead of only praise. My choir director said something in a rehearsal the other day that stuck out to me. It was, “I’m a coach, not a cheerleader.” and I hadn’t thought to distinguish the two before. Typically coaches (in highschool) have to juggle both the supporting and the instructing roles. My director, on the other hand, lets the cheering be done by a select group of students, and directs his energy fully towards instructing us to be the best we can be. IWU’s art faculty can be both cheerleaders and coaches depending on what you need at that moment. To go without faculty in the arena of art is to source those roles to volunteers within your day-to-day life.

I came home for fall break, and spent the entire first day making a boat.

and a lovely boat it is.

What’s crazy to me is how I spent 8 to 10 hours on this boat (in a single day), but find it hard to focus on reading for more than 10 minutes. Surely it’s something about cardboard and hot glue that just channels my energy into a project… but I’m not sure.

What’s also worth mentioning, is that this project wasn’t an assignment. It wasn’t for a class that would give me an arbitrary grade that I could base my self worth off of. No, this project was for a commission I acquired, based off of reference images I sourced, and skills that I decided to use or improve, and is representative of what I can do on my own (with general feedback from my family, and the fantastic idea of making a sleeve for the deck box to attach the mast to- oh wait you didn’t know that this is just a costume for a deck box for MTG did you. Yeah there’s a deck box that comes out of the deck of the ship). I didn’t have any help from a professor, is what I’m trying to say.

You don’t need a formal education to pursue art, and you don’t have to be a full-time artist just because you love making art.

Highlight that sentence, because it’s what’s been playing through my mind on repeat as I switch the Studio Arts major to a Business Admin minor to go with my communications and honors degrees. I can still pursue art! I just won’t have to rely on it for income, and that’ll make it all the more enjoyable for me. Cardboard is free, I’ve got connections in the hot glue world, and marketing just takes asking around and talking to people! There is absolutely no reason for me to stop making art when I can make the time for it. But no, I will not be graduating with an art degree anymore. Though,

I hate to say I told me so.

(In)Finite Enthusiasm

I want to continue to be as thrilled as now about every aspect of college I am and will soon be experiencing. The food, friends, and faculty that make Indiana Wesleyan University what it is.
But if I’m anything, I’m a realist. So I know I won’t be riding this high for long. The lack of personal space and quiet will get to me. I will feel overworked and/or unable to keep up. Something might challenge me (I might lose at bananagrams!) I might put too much on my plate in the cafeteria or in the metaphor of time distribution. The possibilites are quite endless for things to go wrong, but also to go right.

I heard this past week that the best way to approach classes is with an “insatiable desire to learn and grow”. There is always something to learn, you just have to be open to learning it. That can be a struggle. Maybe the prof is a bit monotonous and his voice soothes you to sleep… during a lecture. People who’ve seen me in classes know I tend to lounge, occasionally put my head down/close my eyes… and then go on to be completely engaged and attentive all the while. I know it will come across as disinterest to many, but the interest is there. Some lessons are too slow is all. Everyone learns differently, the way I do it is just quickly in most areas, and with a LOT of behind-the-scenes studying and researching classmates don’t typically see and I don’t need to share. For art classes, I’m not sure how I’ll be, because the demos are normally very attention-grabbing and interactive. We shall see.

I know the enthusiasm will be there for art, and even if I’m not a fan of a project result as a whole, I’ll still find a part of it to be excited about. Maybe an improved skill or one little bit I’m proud of. There’s no way I can be enthusiastic about everything. Some things are meant to be less interesting. It’s like contrast in art: things look a lot lighter with a dark background and vice versa. Similarly, events in life are a lot happier after you’ve experienced far worse. You’d only know to expect better if you’ve experienced it. I hope college will be my “better” and I can…

continue to be healthily and heartily enthusiastic.

“Happiness is excitement that has found a settling down place, but there is always a little corner that keeps flapping around.”

— E.L. Konigsburg