Monthly Archives: February 2014

Memoir Essay

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Memoir Essay

  A typical day with my daughter London is filled with imagination and creativity. Let’s take a look at an average Saturday. When London wakes we have breakfast together and I allow her to pick a movie to watch. Periodically during the movie I begin to gather art supplies so we can begin the craft of the day. She usually manages to watch the whole movie. If not that’s okay with me because I would rather spend our time creating a piece of art. If I have a specific project in mind I just guide her through it. But other times we go on a little field trip to the local dollar stores or for a walk on the beach depending on the weather of course. I believe London enjoys these treasure hunt’s as she calls them just as much as making her piece’s.

  The process begins once we decide on what medium we are tackling. She mainly works with finger paint and acrylic paint. One instance she used different shaped sponges and finger paint to create a wonderful picture for her dad. London favored the star shape and red paint. She giggled when some of the blue paint overlapped the red making purple. I tried to explain how the primary colors mixed with each other develops the secondary colors. This concept gets lost in the explanation but I believe after a while my three year old will get it. She is still very young and has plenty of time to acquire the knowledge and ability of color theory. These tools will be more apparent to her as she learns more about Art and Design. Which I can see her gaining this information when most of the time she sees me doing assignment’s for school and my own work for myself. Plus she is always opting to get into it all.

  Once we were done with the sponges and paint I attempt to motivate her to clean. This isn’t always successful but I have to try. I can’t see her making a mess and walking away from it. She can be difficult during cleanup but I per-sway her with music and new supplies. London tends to get excited about more things to make her design’s. Next we clean her up because as you know children especially small children make lots of messes. And she is no different.

  It’s close to lunch and we plan out what we will consume. We eat and London starts to talk about a new idea for our afternoon session. And like you might have guessed she wants to paint. After a while I get tired of painting but it’s her favorite thing to do. She doesn’t get that love from me. I lean towards photography and Adobe software that imitates illustration and drawing. My tool of choice is the computer but she adores her brushes. So I encourage this because it’s true what they say, “practice makes perfect.”

  So the afternoon has sneaked up on us and my kid is ready for another painting marathon. If I leave her to her own devices she is fine. London is very independent but I have to guide her in her artwork. I notice she flourishes when she is playing with her crafts. My participation helps her carryout the task and finalization of whatever she is doing at the moment. Which is very gratifying to accomplish something small or big with my daughter. The reaction I get is huge kisses and hugs and this mommy isn’t complaining. It’s exciting to see artwork through your child’s eyes. They’re so inventive. They see stuff in everything around them. The clouds become Dumbo flying or a dinosaur. Doll’s speak to each other and have teatime. Neverland is always around the bend. I consider pretending to be a great tool for anyone that wants to become creative adults. That’s what the majority of her evening consists of. She plays pretend or sings us songs. London is very theatrical bowing after every performance. It’s very exciting for her to express herself.

Initially we begin with painting and the afternoon is more painting with cutouts. London picks the shapes she wants and I prepare these for her. Showing her step by step, we make pretty much anything she can come up with. Last Saturday she made me a bunch of butterflies out of triangles, circles, and ovals. Those butterflies are very colorful and geometric. They’re hanging on my dining room wall where I showcase her favorite project’s. We have chosen a specific wall she can display her art. I see the pride in her face when it goes up or when someone inquires about them. These are the moment’s in my everyday life that are priceless. I hope art can be as therapeutic for her as it has been for me. I’ve been giving her opportunities to cultivate any artistic abilities she may possess. She is imaginative and feels satisfied at the end of each piece of work. Always presenting her craft as gifts to family and friends for this all I’m grateful.

Reading Journal Entry 3

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The Disturbing Photography of Sally Mann

  • As the title states this article is about the controversial nature of Sally Mann’s photography. Mann’s photography is complex in my opinion but for some see it as child pornography. Woodward the interviewer and author runs down her background, education, personal life, and her career. When he gets into specifics about publications denying her work. Woodward possessing critical thinking and inquiring about her authenticity. But he never takes sides on the issue, if her work is tasteless and provocative. Mann stages pictures with her children being her subjects. There’s usually nudity the reason being the whole taboo of her art.
  • Last semester I was introduced to Sally Mann’s artwork. I didn’t know how I really felt by these series of pictures. By looking at them I know someone will have a problem with them. I didn’t know she uses old film camera’s. Her gear is ancient in today’s standards. I admired reading that about her work and it also explains how her photos look so vintage.
  • Richard Woodard writes easy to read and understand. I really noticed that for every negative piece of information he countered it with positive. I want the facts not your opinion on the matter so that was translated well.

Reading Journal Entry 2

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Master of Photography – Diane Arbus (documentary, 1972)

  • This half hour video starts off with her daughter, Doon Arbus speaking about her mother’s photography. She describes her mother’s approach to prohibiting. There’s a few excerpts of other people speaking about Arbus’s craft. It sounds like the narrator is Doon but I’m not sure if it is or Diane. Arbus photographed mainly freaks. She believed it wasn’t so much about composition but the subject matter. Which is very intriguing to me because I’ve been taught the opposite. Doon also mentions how it seemed to her that her mother was secretive. She clarifies that the secret isn’t the technique but her experiences during her process of working. Arbus worked from awkwardness which she meant she would have to arrange herself. She didn’t like staging pictures which most portrait photographer’s do.
  • This short video based on Diane Arbus was very interesting to me. She has always been an enigma to me. And watching this short documentary didn’t really enlighten me but make me wonder more. I find myself all kinds of questions about her approach. Even though it doesn’t answer many questions still the inquisitive feeling I get ignites something in me to go out and photograph.
  • I really loved the narrative from Diane Arbus’s point of view. It was very effective to have her word’s narrating her own documentary even though she isn’t with us. Diane Arbus commit suicide in 1971.

 

Reading Journal Entry 1

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Digital art in China

  • The article talks about the influence of internet and technology for China’s artist’s. He describes the computer as a new tool for present artisan’s. How digital art is a little controversial. The author emphasizes he is not against it but for it. Boqiao speaks about different venues that digital art has shown itself. He also speaks of a few art schools in China.
  • I found it interesting that he talk’s about electronic games or interactive games in the 80’s to be a source for many artist’s. Changing China’s art from oppressive into uninhibited.
  • Boqiao writes well but I wished he had explored how it had transformed the artwork by giving examples. I don’t care about listing to all these festival’s and such. It makes it sound more like an announcement. If he had been precise and indicated how China’s art had changed it would clarify a lot more for me.

 

 

Second Memoir Draft

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Second Memoir Draft

The phone rings and wakes me. It’s 7AM – 7:30AM somewhere in that time frame. My heart is banging in my chest. It feels like it’s going to break through. I answer and on the other end was my cousin Kelly. Right at that moment I knew. I know why she is calling me. The dreadful call that we have been awaiting. “Sue, it’s your dad. He passed away.” [Kelly] “Oh, NO!” [me] I began hyperventilating. Grasping for air and I couldn’t catch my breath! I knew this was coming but not this quickly. He was just diagnosed with cancer six weeks ago. My brain couldn’t wrap itself around the reality of his demise.

This was early March when I received this detrimental phone call. I was not prepared for all these emotions. Just six week’s ago I had visited him in Florida. As soon as we found out he was sick my uncle and his wife got my daughter and me airfare. London and I were on our way. Anxiety filled my every momentous juncture. It felt like I was hurling through thin air never feeling grounded. These were hours and minutes I cannot recollect. Only the negative and dark scenes can I recall.

Even in my father’s last days he and my mother made me feel on the outside. All my life; my parent’s had a knack of making me feel like I didn’t belong. And my mental health did not help these attributes, things I couldn’t control.  My mental state was deteriorating. I would have to pop pill after pill to get by these terrible day’s. Considering all that was to come, I tried with all my strength to forgive my father during his dying day. We shared one bad moment. I’m not perfect and at that moment I was horribly reminded of that. We yelled and cried there was nothing positive coming out of this. But I made my peace and believe he did, too.

Time to go had arrived; and London and I left. We said our goodbye’s. I knew when I got on that plane that it would be the last time I would see my dad. It was such a heart-wrenching point of everything to come. Now I was truly fatherless. I can’t call him. I can’t yell at him. I can’t say, I love you anymore or that I forgive him. There was no one left I could lean on. This tragedy could easily take me under. To a place I can’t afford to go because I don’t think I would return ever again. And this wasn’t and isn’t an option. I have a beautiful daughter that I have to care for and raise. So I soul searched and looked high and low for sanity in all of this turmoil. The answer was always within me. I always knew the solution to my problem but never found it until now.

When London and I got back home, I urgently needed my own care. I set-up appointments and had my medication regulated. What worked for me before was not cutting it. Therapy was the logical answer. But I knew I had to extend this to my daily life. The need for resolution and expression had to give way. It came to me when I finally could calm down long enough to think. The acknowledgment was within me all my life. It wasn’t anything new people do it all the time. I’ve always created something out of nothing. Defining and observation skills shown through my pictures, drawings, and anything I could visually narrate with or without words. This has been effective in the past so here I go again. Down the rabbit hole I go in search for self-preservation, sanity.

The realization guides me here to further my education. So I filled my application to BCC in hopes this would be part of the equation that needed to be solved. In all of the loss, death I found myself again. Thinking of my daughter I push through it all; the good and bad. And of course there is especially overwhelming day’s that I don’t know if I can make it through but I do with the help of loved one’s and ultimately my art. My outlet is to be true to myself and show anyone that part of me because I am not alone. Sometimes the sense of loneliness can kill and paralyze and in that I build and produce pieces of myself through my art.

Memoir Draft

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Memoir Draft

Since I can remember creativity has always been an outlet. It’s been a form of therapy for me. As far back as I can remember it has been a coping mechanism. Life isn’t always easy. Unfortunately, I have been struggling with Bi-Polar Disorder and quite a few anxiety disorder’s most of my life. My father’s family and close friend’s have consistently encouraged me to utilize this. And for the most part I have implemented this into my everyday life. I am very grateful I could focus negative energy into a drawing, collage, picture and writing.

Expressing and exposing myself through my work leaves me at times vulnerable. It can leave one weak but you leave the experience stronger than you started. I have come to the realization life is about making mistakes and learning from them. The inherited strength you receive working through problematic reality. Does it mean I’m great at what I do?  Not really! But it does help me personally work through all kinds of complications.

I’ve applied this knowledge towards my life and 3 year old daughter, London. In my household; it’s encouraged to be creative and to explore your feeling’s. My belief system strongly supports this method of thinking. Imagination, cleverness and inspiration is a necessity for survival. Bottling up emotion’s is never promoted here. London paints, colors, and takes photos allowing her to express . When she is to excited or emotional I guide her to make art. She benefits a lot from this as far as I can see.

Art has been a strong influence in my sanity. If I’m upset and overwhelmed with anger this remedies this. When my disorder’s take me to a moment I can’t handle; I just resort to writing, collages, and photography. I spawn; invent different pieces to nourish my spirit. Considering the past and pres dilemma’s it’s a burden at times. Still I get through it all with self-expression. It’s definitely better than pill’s. Many people become artist’s and designer’s for the aesthetics. That is not my truth. The reasoning behind it for me is simple. It’s self-medicating. Many times I think everything is so devastating and overpowering. And my hand reaches for that right tool at the moment. It can be a pen, pencil, camera, and let’s not forget the computer. One of my favorite means is the computer. I can type how I feel. It’s essential for editing my photography. Adobe Illustrator an excellent software to produce visual concepts from drawing’s and photo’s.

My mental health at times becomes unbearable. So possessing the awareness and observational skills renders me these weapons against my demon’s. The moment I dive into my project’s brings me solace. Tranquility and acceptance of my reality is usually reached during this all. Art is not always about beauty. For some of us; if we can’t do this then we feel a suffocation. I know it is that way for me. If I couldn’t work through my pain and suffering by forging and shaping. Manifesting something visually and soundly keep’s me level. I would die. It’s really that simple. My primitive nature to lash out and strike back would land me in jail or an institution. Do I know this for sure? No. I don’t. But I wouldn’t be the same. I don’t want to know the quality of life I would have with the absence of creating art.

Let’s also not forget the power of sound, music. Many people couldn’t live without something as simple as music.  Music has been my parent, best friend, and lover at times. It’s an important implement in healing. Life isn’t easy for any of us. Some of us more so than others. Music and art go hand in hand; they’re siblings per-say. Art isn’t only a visual concept even though that’s the main focus but it’s not the only element. Don’t underestimate the power of the imagination, dreaming. Technology has made it more assessable. We can make many things through different device’s. Making it easier for people to generate their vision, thoughts. Which is such a wonderful thing for us individual’s who need this to get through our lives unscathed.

My tribulations have been paralyzing and suffocating. The mental disorder’s passed on to me by my mother. Her influence wasn’t a good one either. Until this day my mother’s words, criticism undoes any progress established through many years of therapy. Coming to terms with some of the injustice I have faced has been such a gruesome task throughout my whole life. I think it’s ironic when people say there is no love like a mother’s love. I beg to differ. My mother wasn’t always so nurturing. She was mean and a woman hater. The only thing I have been able to take away from our relationship is a guideline of the kind of woman I do not ever want to be. The love I possess for my daughter is the ultimate love! Reminds me how dysfunctional my mother and I are. It saddens me at times and when it’s to much; I drive and use my camera to get through it. Listening to music also is tremendous help. I try not to take anyone and any of my accessible tools for granted. Art therapy should be more of a common way for counselor’s to assist their patient’s. It’s kept me for the most part grounded.

Memoir Sample Reading

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Memoir Sample Reading

  Never Give Up by Mary Curran Hackett is the memoir I chose for my sample. This short memoir describes her dad’s tenacity and as she put it perseverance speeches. She goes on describing herself and seven siblings having to endure this. Hackett mentions even before she understood this lecture that it was profound and she would never forget it. But eventually she mentions, how the day arrived that she had to call her father and unfortunately admit that she needed to give up. Hackett found herself nine months pregnant and her baby fatherless. Her father comes to her aid. She then expresses her realization that her father’s silence wasn’t disapproval but his firm lesson. He had not given up on his daughter.

  Looking through different memoir’s, I chose this one. The reason I picked this particular writing was like most people I could relate with some of it. My father also had the, “Never Give Up” speech. Like Hackett, I also had that memorable moment of awareness that my dad wouldn’t give up on me. Plus I’m facing the same dilemma of moving forward without my daughter’s father. Except that her father will be a part of our child’s future. Just not my destiny. My dad passed away April 28, 2013 this loss has literally ignited a fire within. It’s similar to the movies, all these flashbacks running through your mind. All his lessons continuously bombarding my mind. This journey has lead me here. It’s his belief system I’ve adopted to take on life and I must persevere.

http://thisibelieve.org/essay/5704/