A Final Transformation

The End

Well, we've reached it! Our final project was to manipulate one of our 3D pieces into a 2D image. I decided to use one of my first pieces, "Our Home" from the Elements & Principles assignment, and make one of those classic, white-text-on-black-background motivational posters. The idea, though very simple, felt like the perfect way to end my journey in this class.

In order to create my final image, I constructed a small scene out of the sculpture and art supplies (of the kindergarten-esque red, yellow, blue, and green). I molded a small person and positioned her to be both central to and just another part of the piece; I wanted to emphasize the simultaneous, contrasting "center of the universe" and "tiny fish in a big pond" feelings art can give us. The little person is carrying a piece of wood, which she will probably add to the house behind her. But that, of course, is unknown. Perhaps she is even walking away from the house, having taken a chunk of it with her. I used primary colors (and green) because I wanted to establish a playful vibe, one that was childish yet still very clever and self-aware. The reason I decided to feature the photograph on a motivational poster is because they're so cliche, and I wanted to take that triteness and pull it apart, mold it, warm it in my palms just like I did when creating my tiny clay person. 

I remember - with a rueful smile - all the motivational posters that used to mock me at the physical therapy place I went to in order to rehabilitate my broken arm. "TEAMWORK" said a group of rowers. "DETERMINATION" said a marathon runner. I could barely stand it. But as my time at physical therapy came to a close, I realized I'd miss those stupid posters with their stupid stock photographs and vapid wisdom. 

Most everyone's encountered at least one of these motivational posters at some point in their life, and I know that when they'll see mine, they'll probably roll their eyes and go, Really? But I want that reaction...because then I want them to look closer at the photograph and notice all the little intricacies, and wonder what exactly is going on with that little guy. I want them to read my tagline on what I think art is all about and agree or disagree. I want them to consider what art means to them.

To make a motivational poster is such a simple idea, maybe a risky one because it can so easily fall into stereotypes, but here I am. I've made it, both literally and figuratively. And I couldn't be happier. 

Final Solution

The Importance of Touch

The excerpts we read from Diane Ackerman's Touch, A Natural History of the Senses really resonated with me. My mom has always been very into hugging, kissing, and touching, which translated into a natural interest in massage therapy and reflexology. Although we had dabbled in these homeopathic practices before she got sick, after my mom was diagnosed with cancer, we started going to our friends Angie and Bill, Lola and Miss Janet, Jenn and Lidia, and others much more often. I always knew the human touch was a powerful thing, but after seeing its ability to soothe (and even heal) right before my eyes, I decided to make one of my life goals to get licensed in massage therapy and reflexology. All of the people I have been lucky enough to meet who work in this field are so wonderful, so caring, and every time I think about them, I am inspired to follow in their footsteps. I want to help people like they've helped me, my mom, my sister, my dad, and the myriad others whose lives they have touched.

Ackerman writes, "Among other things, touch teaches us the difference between I and other, that there can be someone outside of ourselves, the mother. Mothers and infants do an enormous amount of touching. The first emotional comfort, touching and being touched by our mother, remains the ultimate memory of selfless love, which stays with us life long" (79). For as long as I can remember, my mom has held me, played with me, rubbed my forehead when I couldn't sleep, held my hand in crowded spaces, massaged Vicks VaporRub into my chest when I was sick...the reason why I suffered from ferocious fever blisters when I was younger was because my mom passed it on to me by kissing me when she had her own fever blisters. (She claims she "just couldn't help herself!") Although my dad is nowhere near as touchy-feely as my mom, certain feelings I automatically associated with him: the stiff but lovely dad-smelling hug at the airport before he leaves for work, the heavy, proud "that's my daughter" pat on the shoulder when we're around his hangar buddies, the wet pressure of a paper towel brushing back the stray hairs that always fell into my face when I was a kid. In general, my sister is a careful balance between my mom and dad; while she has the same rigid hug as my dad, she basically sits on top of me when we're on the couch together, and we don't mind at all if our elbows or knees are touching in the car.

When my mom and dad first met, my mom used to give my dad foot rubs, something she still occasionally does. My father grew up in a very strict, fairly unaffectionate family, and so my mom likes to think she helped him loosen up and show a little more love, and I agree that she has. But my dad's not the only one who receives foot rubs. I've been rubbing my mom's feet since I was very, very small. I used to sleep at the foot of my parents' bed - for some reason I really, really liked it down there - and use my nails to gently scratch up and down her feet. My foot rub "prowess" has evolved over the years as I've learned more about reflexology techniques and, of course, after we got the portable foot spa, but one thing has remained the same: I absolutely love being able to do something for my mom that brings her so much relief and happiness. She always says, "Laura, you've got the magic touch," and it makes me delighted to know she thinks so. It's the least I can do for her after all the touch she's given me over the years.

Touch is really a magical thing. In the section entitled "The Skin Has Eyes," Ackerman talks about how seeing something is actually a tangible experience. She says, "We look at a photograph taken with someone we love at a small one-llama circus in a rural town, and remember the stickiness of that summer day, the feel of the llama insinuating its velvety nose into our shirt pocket, into our hand, under our arm, and around our chest, gently but irrepressibly looking for food. At that moment, the word 'llama' becomes a verb in our vocabulary, because you have to llama your way through life from time to time" (94). I love this notion of "verbing" nouns, how things come to life though touch and the memory of touch. I carried the motif of handprints throughout my IB Art portfolio as a sort of nod at the importance of our hands and all they do for us. I cut handprints out of canvases, put paint on my hands and stamped them onto my pieces, finger painted, and employed a host of other very tactile, very active techniques throughout my series. I am still amazed by all the things our hands can do. I am almost always fidgeting with my hands, bending back my fingers or cracking my knuckles, tracing the lines in my palms or massaging my thumbs. One of the things that amazes me the most is how fragile yet how resilient our hands are. I always think about this when I watch my sister, who is an incredibly talented pianist, play, fingers fluttering, striking one note powerfully and the next so gently. Yet there is still a power there - that bit is undeniable.

One of the reasons I think art is so satisfying is because it is so directly tied to touch. Everything in life of course has some relation to touch, but I believe art makes us very aware of our tactile interactions. I am not afraid to use my hands, to get charcoal all over them or acrylic or whatever. I love it. It shows where I've been, what I've done. It shows that the world's touched me, and I've touched it right back.        

                 One of the best feelings in the world...                 

Drawings, Drawings, Drawings!

Elements and Principles in 3D Form 

Gregor's Room

Memento

It's About Time

 Paper Stacking

Masked Identity

Making the Mask

Work, Work, Work

I really enjoyed the process of making my mask after I switched over from a thick gauge wire (I was trying to use up my roommate's leftovers) to a thinner one. This project was not as tedious as the previous two (soap carving and paper stacking), which made for a very nice change in pace. Bending wire, wrapping it with tape, and eventually covering the whole form in a papier mâché-like concoction was very meditative and allowed me to reflect on the parts of my identity I was revealing with this mask. Initially I was a bit hesitant to do something related to depression and anxiety, as they are issues I try to keep to myself. "I'm fine, I'm fine," I say all the time, "just a little tired." I cover up the reality of my struggles to retain my privacy and avoid uncomfortable situations, but I also don't want the "outside world" to think there's something wrong with me - and therein lies the problem, doesn't it? The stigma attached to these conditions needs to be reassessed. I am not a monster, I just get a little sad sometimes. A little worried. Because I generally internalize my pain, making a mask about my condition was freeing but nonetheless frightening. I can't tell you how fast my heart was beating when I had to present my final solution to the class. Even then, I beat around the bush, giving into my fear. I did not say I was documenting my depression, rather that I get "heavy with sadness" throughout the day and how my picture progression documents this. Still, though, I think making this mask was a step in the right direction of being more open with others.

Preliminary Sketches

         

I explored many different ideas in my sketchbook. I was sort of obsessing over centipedes and millipedes that day because of a discussion we had in my postcolonial literature class that morning. I was convinced I wanted to do something that was lopsided and crawled down my back. I also wanted the piece to be interactive, so I came up with the idea that the centipede-like arms would close around me as my photographic "day" progressed.       

W.I.P. Pictures

I built my mask to lean heavily to one side, and created small bumps on the top of the head to signify those painful, ugly thoughts and emotions that surface throughout the day.

The nucleus of it all!

I tried on the mask to make sure everything fit well and was comfortable enough to wear while taking pictures. I also wanted to make sure that the back piece came down low enough/was proportionate with my body.

I then applied the glue and paper, creating a thin, skin-like covering over the whole mask. I was a bit worried that the paper would crack with the movement of the legs; in practice, it did a little bit, but I was actually quite surprised by the resilience of the papier mâché. 

A Final Explanation

Although my final pieces are in another post, I just wanted to take a moment to explain my choices and photographic series. As mentioned above, I created a mask that was top-heavy and had moving parts to indicate both my struggle to stay balanced and how the passage of time affects my balance. I tend to find myself getting heavier and heavier as the day goes on, which manifests not only mentally and emotionally, but also physically. I am sluggish, annoyed, tired. All I want to do is sleep. I chose to do a series of photographs to show this change over time. The mask is always with me, yes, but the little arms, receptors of negativity and sadness throughout the day, eventually close around me and pin me to my bed. I also wanted to show the smallness of my life, how during the semester I often find myself repeating the same unhealthy patterns over and over again. School. Work. Sleep. School. Work. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. The voyeuristic-like angles I used to photograph myself also speak to my belief that through glances, we see much more than we ever could by looking intently, closely. People change under scrutiny. We amend ourselves to be acceptable. But when we look for just a moment or watch secretly from afar, sometimes we see what's really there - the sadness in that girl's eyes or the worry in another person's knitted brow that disappear as soon as their friends approach.  

I decided to not end on the bed picture because I wanted to show that I still have some hope; I still have moments of intense clarity and beauty. The "dust" specs that gather and gather in my photographs until they completely clutter the final scene are nowhere to be found in the final picture. I am also outside, as opposed to the previous enclosed spaces. I can breathe out here. And while I'm still walking toward darkness, I'm illuminated, if only for a moment.   

   "I'm fine, just a little tired"

Identity Crisis

Who Am I, Really?

This is the question people spend their whole lives trying to figure out, and sometimes I wonder if it is the right question to be asking. The episode entitled "Switcheroo" from NPR's series This American Life explores notions of identity and how in saying who we are, we are effectively saying who we are not. At the beginning of the episode, Ira gives an anecdote about the time he and his friend, Etgar, went to a Cindy Sherman exhibit at the MOMA and a lady approached them, claiming she was the artist herself. Because her exhibit was all about morphing into a multitude of identities, neither Ira nor Etgar could figure out if this lady was truly Sherman or not. Weeks after the incident, Ira finally decided to call Sherman and ask her whether or not she had approached him (or had even been) in the gallery that day. According to Sherman, the woman claiming to be her at the exhibit was decidedly not her, not a part of the exhibit, and not related to her in any way. What a strange and surreal encounter! I laughed so hard when Ira said, "If there is some Upper East Side 55, 60-year-old lady who just walks up to people in the Museum of Modern Art and claims to be Cindy Sherman, I love that lady. I love the balls on that lady. That is somebody embracing life." Embracing life indeed!

I looked up some of Sherman's work while listening to the podcast and immediately saw why it'd be tough to identify the real artist were she to be wandering around her exhibition. Her pieces are all about covering up the Self and making it into the Other. I relate to her work on a profound level because as someone who has always loved dressing up in costumes and "be myself" by not being myself, I know how powerful exploitation of one's identity is in revealing the many, many layers that make up who we are. While she might not outwardly appear a beauty queen, aging goth, or film noir star, those elements - however small, however broken - are inside of her somewhere. As cultural values, subversive practices, or the past, they're inside of all of us. 

I love this show and NPR in general, and am so glad this episode was assigned as preparation for our masked identity project. It brought me back to my dance days when my dad would come to pick up my sister and I on Monday nights, and we'd bet on whether it'd be WHOG classic rock or NPR that night. It also inspired me to really delve deeply into the creation of my mask and really make it mean something significant to myself and my identity. Like the random lady in the gallery, I want to embrace life and take every opportunity to show the world who I am (and am not), however scary that may be.       

Stack 'Em Up

Paper Stacking

When we started this project, Miss Laura told us we'd probably hate her by the end of it. While I did have many moments of frustration (especially when I realized my apple was quite misshapen), I never once got mad at Laura. Instead, I'm glad she exposed us to another challenging yet innovative way to create art. I'm not one for origami or other paper folding things, but stacking paper proved to be quite fun, and I got to learn how to use several different tools in the wood shop! I especially enjoyed making my inventive form, which was inspired by the incredible dancer and my favorite SYTYCD winner, Melanie Moore.

Initial Sketches

The power of the human body

W.I.P. Pictures

  

This is the lovely apple I used as my reference fruit for the project. I went to Publix to specially pick out a worthy apple of my creative endeavor; I thought I had picked out a very nice one until I realized how many bumps and lumps it had (and how difficult it would be to replicate that through stacking). Nevertheless, this apple made for a great model and thankfully did not start rotting until the very end of the project. 

  

Cutting out initial shapes. 

I created roughly three different stacks, which I then glued together to form the apple body.

I tried hacking away at the different layers to achieve my apple's true shape (the top layer had gotten too big and I needed to slim it down), but this proved extremely difficult and ultimately inefficient. This is when I realized that even though its sounds and machines intimidated me, I had to go to the wood shop to sand this baby down.

As I mentioned above, I used Melanie Moore as the inspiration for my invented stacked form. I wanted the piece to represent her simultaneous strength and fragility, power and femininity. (These things are, of course, not mutually exclusive.) I therefore decided to balance the thickly stacked, leg-like column on a single pin, alluding to the strong ballerina on pointe. 

  

I compromised with Miss Laura and was able to use some pink netting on my invented piece. The delicacy of the fabric continued my motif of strength/fragility. 

Final Solution: Observational

The process was undeniably difficult, but I am actually quite happy with my finished observational piece. I spent many, many hours cutting, stacking, and sanding paper to get my sculpture to look as good as it could. While I know it still has some proportional and structural issues, I am glad it turned out looking pretty darn similar to the fruit I chose.

Peek-a-boo!

Final Solution: Inventive

Having the freedom to do whatever we wanted for our inventive form was a bit scary but definitely liberating. I bounced back and forth between a few ideas before finally deciding to do a dance-inspired piece. One of the reasons I chose to hone in on dance was because it used to be a huge part of my life, and since I didn't use a dance memory for my memento, this was the perfect opportunity to bring it back and creatively utilize that part of myself. I am extremely pleased with how my sculpture turned out. As I mentioned earlier, I wanted to show the careful balance between power and grace all dancers tread. One reason dancers are so magical to watch is because they make it look so easy. After studying many pictures of Melanie Moore (what we would call "King Shots" in the competition world), I decided to create an arabesque shape balancing on a single point. I used quite a bit of hot glue to make sure the pin was able to hold up the legs. I also played with scale in making the squares smaller and smaller as they approached the tip of the back leg "foot," as well as negative space in my draping of the pink mesh. The wood base alludes to the dance floor, and the white paint the purity of dancing. The act itself is freeing, a return to "essence," and this is what I wanted to show with this piece.

 Everything - the world, you - all balancing on a single toe