Omphaloskepsis (Look it up!)

Here's a little paper I recently wrote. It's for a foundation-level class (which I am being forced to take so I can fulfill some bureaucratic guidelines), so one of the teachers recommended that I apply the intro-level subject matter to my thesis work, so I can get more out of this class  (i.e. not completely waste my time.)

I Am Still an Artist: A Manifesto

An artist’s search for self can be exhausting, all-consuming, and very often devolves into pathetic navel-gazing which, inevitably, makes it impossible to actually create art. It seems ironic to me that while pursuing a vocation which seems to require connection and communication with other human beings in order to achieve success, so many of us are self-absorbed to the point of paralysis. Of course, this observation occurs to me at a necessarily self-absorbed point in my artistic education. The search for a valid and meaningful thesis, and then for an effective and earth-shattering means of communicating said thesis, has caused me to wallow in a infinitely murky swamp of self-reflection. Long periods of wallowing are occasionally interrupted with a variety of distractions; prominent among these distractions is Facebook.

I identified with many of the same concerns as novelist and professor Zadie Smith, who recently wrote an article, “Generation Why?”  The article is part opinion editorial, part movie review (The Social Network), and part book review (You Are Not a Gadget: A Manifesto, by Jaron Lanier). Smith and I are the same age, and although she is teaching undergrad students while I am studying alongside them, we both find ourselves surrounded by the Facebook generation, and unlike these younger students, we have both experienced a portion of our adult lives without the relentless grind of social media. As Smith puts it, when describing her old-fashioned use of texting technology, “Our relationship with the English language predates our relationships with our phones.”

Our Facebook profiles present a cleaned up, tidy version of our selves. We list what we like and what we don’t like, but not what we love or what we hate. We share what our favorite movies are, but not our favorite memories. We organize our photos into convenient, charmingly titled albums, each becoming surrogates for actual time and experience. We arrange our “friends” into groups, so we can decide who is worthy to witness each parceled nugget of our selves.

So what’s wrong with any of that? Obviously, we all know that a Facebook profile is representative of a person, but does not encompass the entirety of that person. Or do we? If we connect to Facebook daily, and if our chief connection with our friends and family is through their wall feed, then is it not inevitable that that wall feed will gradually replace the idea of their unique personhood?

Being in the privileged position of having artists make up a large portion of my Facebook friends, I sometimes forget the white-washed blandness of the Facebook universe. I have friends that are creative and smart and witty, and I am often entertained by their posts, photos, and videos. But Smith’s article reminded me that even my cleverest friends present a homogenized, carefully rendered version of themselves through Facebook; even their most original posts can seem like they are trying to fit into the stereotypical category of artist. (This observation is from my most cynical self, and I cannot deny guilt of similar crimes.)

Smith’s, and my own, fear of the soul-flattening effects of Facebook triggered thoughts (no surprise) of the afore-mentioned all-consuming thesis work. I am currently obsessing over the concept of memory loss. Our memories are the foundation for our souls. Having experienced memory loss as a result of seizures, I began to be paralyzed by a fear that I will lose memories to an extent that I will lose my self entirely, or even worse, the parts that make me an artist.

Without the specific details that flavor my most precious memories, my history is in danger of eroding into something as bland and arbitrary as my Facebook profile. It occurs to me that by constantly creating new memories, I can keep my self full, and maintain my unique person-ness. Of course, I ought to create memories which reinforce my current self-ness, lest I lose it anyway. But then, am I in danger of becoming stagnant? That can’t be good for an artist; it is a terrifying prospect. So, the alternative is to choose to create memories of times that are challenging, full of intensities and specificities that are the anti-venom of Facebookian, amnesiac blandness. I am very lucky, then, that my thesis work is providing plenty of such challenges.

Smith, Zadie. “Generation Why?” The New York Review of Books. Nov 25 2010. Web.    Jan 17 2012.

Make a Mini-Comic!

 I love my special studio class with Carol Tyler this quarter! She is a well-known and talented comic book artist and writer, and she is great at imparting her vast knowledge to her students. I just read volumes one and two of her three-volume masterpiece, You'll Never Know, and it was fantastic!

The cover of Carol Tyler's second volume, Collateral Damage

 There is a LOT to learn about the technical processes involved in creating a graphic novel. Ms. Tyler demands that we follow the "rules." These are strict industry standards which exist because of the publishing/ business side of things, and also are a part of an honored tradition for which all of her students gain a lot of respect.
She also demands that we begin with the basics: proper tools, proper inking and layout, and simple, clear storytelling. Her advice ALWAYS helps create a better final product.
In an earlier post I described the process of making a four page mini-bio comic. That project was much more daunting that it may seem, and creating an eight page mini comic was exponentially more challenging. How do you tell a whole story, with a beginning, middle, and end, on eight tiny pages? How do you use illustrations to advance the story without being redundant? How do you find the time to draw the pages, ink them, scan them and digitize them, lay them out properly, print them, cut them, fold them, and staple them before they are due? Answer: you don't. I finished mine an hour late, running in all sweaty from Kinko's across campus. Every student had difficulty to some degree, and we all fell short to some degree, but most importantly, we all know what we did wrong and how to fix it (thanks to dear Ms. Tyler!).
At the time I was creating this mini comic, I was drowning in schoolwork from my other courses, mostly from an art theory/philosophy class. I decided to write about that class, mostly because by brain was too fried to do anything else.

This is the "splash panel"- and it's not quite splashy enough. I should have incorporated some imagery to make it more appealing.

Introducing my main character: Me! (And yes, I know I'm not that skinny. But the cartoon version of me is.)

The titles and authors shown are straight from the required reading list on the syllabus. Notice all the Heidegger? Our professor LOVES Heidegger. My favorite part of the whole project: the hang-in-there kitty in the background.

Actual quotes from the readings.

Philosophers like to make up their own words. They aren't always in dictionaries.

Don't ask me what happens here. It made sense at the time. My brain breaks- because I'm thinking too hard?

Again, it's not clear what's happening here... The idea was that in my struggle to gasp for air, I knocked over the leaning tower of books, which has tragic consequences...

I do like my last panel. I just wish I had been able to spend more time getting to this point. The important thing is I know it's not great, and I'll know how to fix it the next time.

Based on what I learned from this project, here are some tips for those of you wanting to attempt your own mini-comic:
1. Make sure your story makes sense, and has a logical beginning, middle, and end.
2. Make the splash panel inviting! It's the only way to attract a potential reader, so it has to be good! Make sure the title is relevant to the story, and include your name and date.
3. Don't waste an entire page with the word "CRASH!" or any other onomatopoeia, for that matter.  You need that space to advance the story!
4. Work larger, and shrink it down after scanning it to make it fit. The key here is to make sure the larger original is proportional to the final page size.
5. Ink the panel border first. If you mess up, you can always start over. If you've already spent an hour inking the artwork and the letters, and THEN you mess up the border, you WILL CRY.
6. The Ames Lettering Guide: Learn It, Use It, Love It!
7. This part is tricky: laying out the pages for double-sided printing! The best way is to make a "dummy" first. Fold up a sheet of paper in quarters, number the pages, and then unfold them to see the layout. Here's an illustration of that process:

Peek in between folded pages and number them, 1 through 8. Once it's unfolded, you'll see how the pages should be laid out and printed, front to back.

I am currently working on our final project: a full size four-pager with 36-48 panels. It's a LOT OF WORK... I'll be posting the results by the end of the quarter. Don't worry, it will be a lot better than my mini comic!

Update as of May, 2011:
I FINALLY showed this mini-comic to Andre, the professor who taught the class which inspired the story. He loved it, especially the stack of books with all the Heidegger. We have discussed possible sequel ideas. I like the one where dead philosophers come back as zombies, invade our classroom, and freak out because we're interpreting their ideas all wrong. Heeheehee.

Need a little inspiration?

I am compelled to list three of my favorite inspirations as an artist. These are subject to change at any moment, and usually do, and I'm gonna list them in chronological order (of when they inspired me).


FIRST: My mom and my grandma, who are both very creative and crafty. My mom is a bit Martha Stewart-y, a little Betty Crocker-y, and somewhat Bob Ross-y. With better hair. Thanks to her, I'm not afraid of any new or mixed media challenge.

I remember her looking like this: Winona Ryder in Reality Bites

SECOND: There was this really weird girl in high school- really angst-y and goth, you know the type- and I went to a music festival with her once and it rained (of course). She sat down at a picnic table and proceeded to draw with her fingertip through the collected raindrops, some sort of swirly pattern, and it just really impressed me: she exploited every opportunity to be express herself and leave her mark- however fleetingly- and I try to emulate that as much as possible. One night, at a crowded bar, I used burnt  matchsticks to draw portraits on coasters in exchange for drinks. I owe the next day's hangover to that weird girl from high school.

Joseph Cornell, Untitled, 1948

THIRD: Joseph Cornell, one of my favorite artists of all time, inspires my mixed media collages. I love the way he combines found objects to create a mysterious, nostalgic, intimate little world.