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.

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