life in technicolor

Jack of all trades, master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.

This calendar year started with a blizzard. Like, an actual weather-alert blizzard with over a foot of snow dumped on us, extremely cold temps, and school cancellations for pretty much the entire week. Aside from the one day finally back to school, only to get another snow day the next day, I’m honestly grateful for the time stuck at home.

I’ve been able to rework some art projects I’ve been avoiding, start a couple of new ones, and update my portfolio. My home studio is back under control and decluttered enough to where I can work in there with my Ridgeback shadow close by.

As I’ve been going through my work, seeing that as I bounce all over the place in terms of media and process, I realize that means I’m not boxing myself in as far as what kind of artist I am. I make art. What kind of art totally depends on what mood I’m in or what crazy idea I have floating in my head. And in a world that’s so driven by “content” and algorithms, I’m honestly glad I don’t have anyone or anything to answer to.

I don’t need to be known…I’d rather be seen.

And I’ll keep making whatever I want to make.

lying about silly dreams

Growing up, my parents had always dreamed about when we finally settled after moving around so much, that we would get a dog. And they had always wanted a Rhodesian Ridgeback.

During art school, we lost our mutt, and my parents got their first Ridgeback. Within a few months, they got a second Ridgeback. Suddenly my life at home got way more interesting and entertaining with Creek and Wilson. And all I wanted to do was spend time with them and videotape their shenanigans. There were maybe a couple of times that I used that footage for video projects at school, and I was called out on it and teased incessantly. I think one classmate said something about how “it’s clear that Kaleena loves her dogs” but that I wasn’t being a serious artist with those projects.

The thing about being a video major was that there was a lot of technical learning involved—how to edit, how to frame shots, how to record sound, how to color correct in-camera and in post-production, and so on. Sometimes, my conceptual thinking took a backseat to simply learning that technical aspect of video-making. Did it mean that some of my projects were “not serious”? Absolutely. Did I care?

…sometimes.

I remember telling my foundations professor once that I wasn’t going to make it as an artist because I’m not an asshole. Funny enough, he told me that was okay, but that I still had to find some sort of balance between being an arrogant artist and being a good person.

And then I completely burned out my senior year. I should have gone on to grad school, but I just couldn’t. I shouldn’t have burned my bridges with the connections I made when it came to working in the local film scene. But I did. There were a lot of factors and a lot of reasons why, but it all came down to my own self-destruction.

I moved back home, and took some weird detours to figure out what I want, what I can do. And now I’m an art teacher.

Sam came along as a little puppy when I wasn’t sure if I could take care of another dog. He’s stubborn, sweet, mouthy, and cuddly. He always has to be close. And now that I’m pushing myself to make more art, he’s there. He reminds me to take breaks. He forces me to go outside. Sometimes he knocks my arm when I’m trying to draw. And sometimes he inspires a project. Not to mention he stars in the one and only TikTok I’ve made.

Life after art school didn’t really go the way I dreamed it would. And I was right, I didn’t make it as an artist in the traditional sense. Maybe it’s because I didn’t take things seriously in art school. Maybe it’s because I chose time with my dogs over locking myself in a studio or pretending to be someone I’m not. Maybe now I’m finally okay with that.

I’m still an artist. I can still make art and strive to be a good person and love my dog. That’s the dream I’d rather have anyway.

overdoing

Remember—anything worth doing is worth overdoing—DO IT BIG!

I totally overdid it for one of my assignments. So much that my “concise” images became these stylized, high-contrast compositions. And I have been battling the urge to scrap everything and start over, all because I’m afraid I didn’t do the assignment “right.”

Overdoing led to me overthinking. Typical.

But I realized a few things as a result…

I will forever blur that line between illustrator and photographer. And I know, I know, I’m not alone. But in comparing my work to that of my peers in the class, that’s when I noticed it, how I approached framing my drawings like I was framing through a lens. And know that I do not mean that as a flex; it’s just an observation of how I can’t let a drawing just be a drawing.

No matter how much I fight it, I work very meticulously, almost to the point of perfectionism. Once I get an image idea in my head, I have to make it. I pulled reference photos and even past sketches and drawings to rework into what I wanted to do for this project. And then I sketched everything digitally so that I could just knock it all out on the index card without working and reworking over and over again. It should have been a streamlined process, and it was until I started inking everything and something didn’t turn out. Three drawings I had to start over again. Not a huge deal, but it took time, and I didn’t go to bed until I was done.

I was so worried about going overboard for a project that really should have been a lot simpler than I made it. And then I remembered what my art teacher wrote in my yearbook a million years ago: “anything worth doing is worth overdoing.”

The anxiety won’t go away, but at least I can recognize it and keep reminding myself what Mr. Lauxman said.

if you're listening

So tell me, what do I need? When words lose their meaning…

It’s no secret that I draw a lot of inspiration from song lyrics. I’ll title a lot of my artwork with song lyrics, especially if that song played on repeat during the process. And then I admittedly use lyrics as captions on my Instagram posts, sort of making those images works of themselves. Or maybe that’s just my subconscious resorting back to the days of using song lyrics to write vague away messages on AOL Instant Messenger (the original pre-Facebook status update).

As my summer illustration class started online, our instructor asked us to share any books, movies, artists, musicians, etc., that we are engaging with now, or that have influenced our ideas. Honestly, there are so many that I could have listed, especially in music, but I ended up paring down to the top two of the moment: Third Eye Blind and Explosions in the Sky.

Maybe it’s a sign of me getting older that I often find myself stuck on music from the ‘90s and 2000s. And Third Eye Blind has been a powerful magnet that I can’t get away from.* There’s something about their lyrics and that push/pull of happy-sounding music that’s actually not happy. The way that Stephen Jenkins plays with words, using metaphors to address hopeless love and disintegrating relationships…it’s downright poetic. I read somewhere that Jenkins was an English major in college, and it all makes sense why the lyrics stand out so much.

OK Go does this a lot, too. And I had the chance to share that with their lead singer, Damian Kulash: “…that whole ‘I love you, but…’ That’s what I really connect to in your music, that you write about those in-between feelings.” He added that he often finds that from Elvis Costello and The Smiths, as well, when a song pulls you one way but then pulls you the other way. The more I started paying attention, the more I found this in other artists.

Maybe it’s my little emo girl heart that’s to blame for reverting back to song lyrics when I need inspiration, when I need guidance in being an artist, when I need reassurance to be open and honest with my feelings.

Words are powerful…but they’re not always needed.

And that’s where Explosions in the Sky comes in. There are three things born from Texas that I love, and this post-rock band is one of them. Of course, the 2004 film Friday Night Lights is what first introduced me to their music, and I was honestly surprised to see everything they create is purely instrumental. Their music carries a cinematic quality that stretches far beyond what they’ve done for actual movies. Lately, I’ve been listening to their radio station on Apple Music that features other similar post-rock artists, such as God is an Astronaut and This Will Destroy You, finding more inspiration in the infinite stream of sonic expression. When words are unnecessary, music is there to drive you and provoke unexplainable emotions.

And if I keep listening, I’ll be able to find myself again.

*shameless reference to “Can’t Get Away” by Third Eye Blind

the daylight brings a cool, empty silence

The bad news is you have self-doubt. The good news is…that’s what it takes.

Every year, April never seems to slow down. It’s unrelenting, unforgiving, and yet still so rewarding.

I doubted myself. As an artist, as a teacher, as a human being. Over and over and over again. But it strangely kept me going. It always does. And, in the end, it was worth it.

The anxiety will never go away, I know that. I also know I need to understand it and manage it somehow. I need to keep questioning myself in order to keep moving forward. I need to keep creating to understand myself.

So it starts with taking a break. It starts with reading more. It starts with spending time in my studio. It starts in the daylight. It starts by listening to the silence.

Because that’s where I can take a deep breath, and remember who I am.

so if you doubt

Creative shame is never a sign of inherent lack; it is always the result of a collective failure to love and appreciate someone for who they are.

In my studio class today, several students expressed mixed feelings over the large amount of “realistic” artwork at a recent exhibition they participated in. They were able to see both sides of the argument for awarding work that seemed to skew in favor of hyperrealism and technical skill. And as frustrated as they remained, I think I was able to remind them that the best thing they can do is keep pushing themselves beyond their comfort…to keep balancing skill with concept.

skill ≠ creativity

creative doubt ≠ lack of skill

You can have the skill to produce realistic art, but what do you want to say with that realistic art? Saying something doesn’t always have to look realistic, or pretty for that matter. (Says the girl who thrives on realistic portraits and pretty photos.)

My students doubted themselves because they don’t do realism. I doubted myself because I don’t teach solely how to improve technical skill. So I had to remember that I teach my students to think, to solve problems, to figure out how to use art as an expression. My students had to remember that they get to choose what they create, how they create it, and why.

Why.

Why make art? Why say something at all when you feel like no one is listening?

Because everyone has doubt. And someone will listen. Someone will pay attention.

comparison is the thief of joy

You’ll be blown away by how wonderful and comfortable life is if you just ask yourself, “Would this be pleasant without comparison?”

It’s hard breaking that cycle, of constantly comparing yourself to other people, to what you think you should be doing in this life.

So I appreciate this little reminder I got from someone who took time to make sure I felt seen, that I’m not alone.

It’s easy to get caught up in the season of change, that we tell ourselves we will be better, that this year will be different. As a teacher, I have a hard time separating the calendar year from the academic year. January comes to me in August, only with warmer weather and more sunshine. But really, seasons can change whenever we want—whenever we need the change.

I see the paths my friends have taken, the ones that I just couldn’t will myself to take as well, and I’ll admit it brings a sadness that I feel like I’m not doing enough. But my path, no matter how much it curved around where I thought it was going, gives me a lot to be grateful for. I’d much rather drive the curvy, windy roads in my Subaru anyway…something I’ve been doing ever since I turned 16.

For now, change is a start.

To start being.

Wonderful. Comfortable. Without comparison.