Part I… the Who’s.
So here I am taking a break from making masks at the moment, still in the artistic mind frame, watching seasons of Art21 on Netflix. Daydreaming and wondering what the episode on me would be like. What little insights would slip out of my mind through my mouth that may seem contrived to some or as resonating inspiration to others. What might I find out about myself through talking, thinking or writing freely about my art. The who, whats, wheres, whys and who’s of my artistic birthing process. Thoughts are jumbled for me. I have a feeling that I may be ADHD afflicted in a high functioning sort of way. I was speaking to my friend Ashley about this just the other night, about how I can’t stand sitting still and how I only feel a sense of relaxation when I’m multitasking. This post in all actuality is just a haystack of thoughts with the hope of a needle being lost in it.
The who of my artistic framework is a list of whos. My mom tells stories of me drawing at a very young age, I won’t tell the stories myself because her stories aren’t about the story being told but for me its about how she tells the story. The light in her eyes when she tells the stories is like a photograph of the buffet of support she always had available to me. My dad works with computers the way a 5 star chef works with a filet. I think about a plotter he had early on in my childhood and how we would print simple 16 bit graphics and intricate mechanical drawings of aircraft for me to color in with my big box of crayons and markers. There seems to be a lasting effect in the way something so simple of an idea like using this developing computer technologies as a bottomless coloring book can really be so ingrained in my artistic process to this day. My work for years has been a return to the hybrid nature of using the computer as a tool but not as the only tool. The Guerrilla Art Squadron masks always begin as a sketch and are then translated into a digital format. My paintings also transition from sketch to digital images to painting. I remember drawing at an early age but I don’t think I made art before my sister was born. I wonder sometimes if at the age of 3 with an adorable baby sister I found that my drawings would be my demand for attention. The way some kids who act out to compete for attention with a new sibling might I instead subconciously may have said “Sure, she’s cute but she can’t do this!” If that’s the case it very clearly carried over to elementary school where I was a strangely awkward kid. I still have trouble relating to people, I think with age I just hide it better. I understand the social cues and the steps to the dance but can’t quite sense the rhythm. I always knew though that my art got me the attention I desired. Brad was a kindred spirit I suppose. We would hang out and draw, we’d often have the same art classes all the way until college. I was envious of Brad, his talent and work always reflected a sense of purity to me. He didn’t do it for attention, he just did it and did it really well. Highschool gave me art teachers that one can only hope for in a top tier college. Ms. Flo, Mrs. B & Mrs. Young somehow changed my art from an attention getter to a voice to be heard. Very much like teaching a child to speak, my art went from meaningless babble to coherent sentences.
Excuse the run-on sentence, the fragmented sentences and the all around poorly pieced together thoughts. After all I posted this from my couch on my phone… thumbs aren’t quite the most linguistic of the expressive limbs. And if you know yourself to be a Who that I didn’t mention here keep in mind that some of the most personal influences are pieces that aren’t immediately shared.