A drop of my evolution.


I was nine years old. I would make up my own words. I wasn't afraid of being goofy or strange. I didn't shave my legs -- in fact, I found it strange that there were nine year old's who shaved their legs. "But they're nine. Why does it matter? I just don't understand." I was open minded to the point where I got confused when other kids my age just weren't alright with certain things. Pastel pink and pastel blue overalls with Powerpuff Girls patches ironed on them to emphasize my love for these three globule looking characters. These outfits were completely distorted when paired with guys shirts and backwards baseball caps that confused my dad ('Oh come on, don't gang members wear hats like that?' 'No no no it's cool, I look awesome when I wear it like this!') Self-proclaimed tomboy. Videogames became my life, and so did anime and manga. By age eleven I left that private school, away from what I considered judgmental eyes at such a young age -- what eyes weren't? We were growing. I would sit in my new public school class, silent. Again, the odd one out -- fresh out of private school, fresh into public school, fresh into 6th grade with only one year with my classmates. One year to get to know them, let them get to know me, then depart again once we went on to middle school. I had a bob cut. I still wore pastels but paired them now with lace headbands. I was still a self-proclaimed tomboy. Pink was disgusting, and so were boys. They were 'boogery'. But I secretly had a crush on a guy who had dandruff and wore the same shirt with stains on it all the time. Again, no one bothered to get too close to me. The one person who ended up being my best friend was pushed away by me in 9th grade. I did a lot of that. Pushing away. I was too caught up with my imagination -- life wasn't important, I was only eleven. Life wasn't important, I was only thirteen. I was only fifteen.

Fifteen and somewhat angsty, yet still goofy on the outside. Hot Topic was my style of choice. Privatized the goofyness once I entered high school the year before -- I was weird for thinking the ending theme song of Trigun was my favorite. "What are you half Japanese or something?" No, no of course not. Why, do I have to be? I don't understand? I thought we weren't in middle school anymore? Why am I being judged again? Girls just can't be goofy in high school so it seems. It's always the guys. I never got it. Begin my countdown to graduation once I enter tenth grade. I make friends here over the next few years, get close to them, close enough for them to become familiar with me -- to like me for who I am, for some strange, unknown reason. Little do we all know that this moment in time will never happen again once we part ways.

I'm seventeen. I'm about to graduate in a few months. I'm my own kind of rebellious with golden streaks on the lower level of my hair and in my bangs. I get sick of this very quickly. Being a senior makes me a big girl in my mind. I have no clue what I'm doing. I'm in denial about falling in love with someone so quickly because for some weird reason they actually like that I'm me. But why? 90% of the other people thought it was weird to be weird -- but you don't. "He's like a brother but he's really not at all whatsoever because I'm in love with the guy and I'm too afraid to tell him and man I'm still young I've never had a boyfriend before, how the hell does this shit work?" My high school friends find it funny for a while. Then we end up not being so close anymore.

I was seventeen then. At twenty-one now I'm still with him. He still digs that I'm weird. He's my best friend. And also, we're engaged. My high school friends have left my surroundings for the most part -- time happened, that's why. I'm in the process of making new friends. Or I probably already have. Or I'm always in the process, for some reason. I don't know how friends work, I never really have. I just like to make people feel good and laugh and be happy and know that I'm there. A lot of people don't realize this. Or they don't take it to their advantage. Or they don't care.

Remember when I was nine and I was really weird and into strange things? And how a lot of people didn't get it or didn't bother getting it? Remember how I questioned a lot of people, their actions, their words, their reactions? This still happens. A lot of it still absolutely happens. Does it make me look closed and unapproachable? Probably. Possibly.

But the funny part is, suddenly now the shit I do is cool. Either that or we all grew up. Have I changed, or have I matured? Oh yeah -- definitely the last one. But I'll never be ashamed of the nine year old with hairy legs, pastel overalls and lace headbands that thought she was going to be a snowboarder when she grew up. Because I'm still her, in a weird way. I still blurt out weird noises and sing like a trumpet and have the ability to be intimately open about myself yet throw up a wall at the same time.

But it's okay, because now it's cool. Sometimes I wonder how self-consciousness works(ed) for me -- because even when I was judged, I didn't think about altering who I was.

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Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Out with the They Body, in with the You Body


Out with the They Body, in with the You Body

Recently there have been a wide array of articles featuring the discontent with women's adoration of thin bodies. These writings include information about 'thinspo' or 'thinspiration' websites that focus strictly on encouraging their audiences to lose weight in order to mimic the bodies of rather thin, "unhealthy" looking women -- photos of which are posted on websites in order to provide a visual stimulus during the journey of losing weight.

While I disagree with the 'thinspo' movement, there is something else that is happening in these articles that I feel is being glazed over rather than being addressed.

The common use of the complaint 'what ever happened to curvy women?' or 'women should flaunt their curvyness'. Statements like these generalize the female body into one categorical ideal: curvy. Now, curvy is a key word that I feel should be defined correctly, but let's do a quick search on Google and see what comes up.

  1. Having many curves: "a curvy stretch of road".
  2. (esp. of a woman's figure) Shapely and voluptuous.
The topic of whether the statement in the parentheses is necessary or not is a completely different one. According to this definition, women who are 'shapely and voluptuous' are considered curvy. Thus, this definition for the bodies of women is naturalized merely due to body parts.

Up until now, the question of the 'ideal' female figure has been addressed time and time again. It transforms constantly as matters in the world shift. Currently, we are experiencing an outrage against being thin -- or 'too thin'. This results in hatred toward girls who are naturally thin, the mind immediately assuming that they are sick or that they strive to be that thin -- whereas the poor girls are just born that way. We counter these arguments with the curvy body. What we don't notice is that we are not moving forward, but moving backward. With this mindset, we are encouraging a body that is, once again, unattainable for many. A curvy body -- one that even I can't transform myself into without the use of fillers and surgery. I, and many others, do not want this ideal pressed upon us.

It is simple -- we are all flesh and bone, and are born with what was given to us. We are not clay. We cannot simply squish ourselves into a mold and call it a day. An ideal that is imposed on a large group of people is unattainable for every single person in the group. It is just impossible, if not terrible, for everybody to achieve the same exact thing.

I propose a new movement in regards to the female body. It is not one that encourages being thin, and it is not one that encourages being curvy. Nor does it encourage a 'natural, healthy' body or a 'synthetic, injected' body.

It is one of the anti-idealistic body. It is the encouragement for women to strive to be who they want to be, and to celebrate having a body rather than being forced to mold it. It refuses entrance from statements that tell us we're not good enough, and instead encourages the fact that there is no reason to consider 'good' when I can be able to contribute to this world physically with what I have been given -- regardless of width, length, height, shape, color, or otherwise. It is not the They Body, but the You Body. It is what you want it to be, what you want it to do -- and it does not have to be thin or curvy to work in your advantage.


Saturday, March 31, 2012

A passage in which I admit how stubborn I am by generalizing this feeling I am having with the fact that every artist feels this way at some point.


A passage in which I admit how stubborn I am by generalizing this feeling I am having with the fact that every artist feels this way at some point.

An interesting facet of an artists life is getting into the groove of examining their experiences with art -- being able to put themselves outside of their own shoes to see exactly what they're doing, and alter it accordingly. Unfortunately, there comes a time when the exact opposite happens. Not only is there absolutely no motivation to even think about one's skills and projects, but the passion and spark is just absolutely dead. This isn't to say that their being an artist is thrown down the drain -- absolutely not. I'd rather call it 'emotional withdrawal'.

Since I do write this blog, the easiest way to explain this is through my eyes. In the past week or two, I have experienced a shift in my thought process regarding school and my artwork. Rather than work on assignments that I should finish soon, or study for tests that are coming up, I find myself becoming stubborn and striving for the absolute opposite. To add to it, I've become inwardly solemn, not very excited about much, and agitated with everyone and everything. Small instances turn into gigantic annoyances, and I close myself off to the world, away from everything and every responsibility.

It's a mechanism I am highly aware of, for I have been doing it for years. Yet, being aware of it is just that -- awareness. I will calmly state what appear to be my flaws, yet I don't do much to fix them. It's a complicated thing. Is it possible that one could be so confident in stating their flaws that they sound somewhat proud of them? Almost as if to insist that they don't want to change themselves. At least, that's how I see it with myself.

It's a sad thing when distractions take over your mind, because you get absolutely nothing done. But why? Why be so stubborn? Why insist on not doing any work?

Will it make the assignment go away? Will it possibly extend the due date? Will the project do itself?

It could be something entirely different. When in these moods, my mind snaps and says 'You can't tell me what to do, I tell me what to do, and if you don't like it, then you will have to get used to it.' Of course, such an attitude is poor while attending school.

In the end, it's apparent that this has nothing to do with art, but myself. I'm stubborn in rebelling to do my schoolwork because I want to do my own work -- and I cannot do my own work for school, for then my mind will classify it solely as 'schoolwork'. If only I could make this an art project.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Stealing art on the internet.


Stealing art on the internet.

I was an avid user of the website Deviantart in my younger years as an artist (12-18 or so -- as if I'm so old now at only 21). There would be times where I'd approach a piece and be immediately taken by it, baffled at how someone could have so much talent. This 'bafflement' persisted only until I scrolled down to view the comments, being met by roars and cries by way of caps lock.

'YOU DIDN'T MAKE THIS!!!!!!'
'Give credit to the rightful artist, you THIEF.'
'I'M REPORTING YOU TO DEVIANTART'

... and other colorful, highly dramatic responses.

I have long abandoned my faithful friend that was Deviantart, for I no longer drown myself in illustrations inspired by Japanese animation. I blame school for this. The website has spiraled downward into an archive heavily dependent on expansion/inflation fetishes, amateur photography on the edge of pornography, and other very unique and specific pieces that really do only belong on that website.

Til this day I garnish my pieces with a copyright of my name and the lowercase C seated comfortably within it's circle home. Go ahead, post my artwork somewhere, but know who it was made by. ME, ME, ME! But wait ... this just reminds me of 'Death of the Author' by Barthes. And authorship in general. Now this is where school kicks in and decides to leak into my brain.

There have been various works of art in the past that could be easily claimed as 'stolen'. Photographers take photographs of photographs and claim them to be original work -- or at least if not original, it is their work. There have been photographers who take photographs of pieces other than photography and have the same claims. I can't say that I wouldn't be somewhat offended if someone did this to me -- but then, I think more deeply about it.

If someone reclaims my artwork as theirs and posts it on their website, boasting about how long they took to create it, wouldn't it be something to be flattered about? Am I really that good that someone was compelled to go through the trouble of saving and re-posting my piece, going so far as claiming it as their own?

And when I do find out who did it in the end, and I do respond, I will be met with an absolutely new audience -- one that I didn't conjure up myself, but was conjured up by someone else. It is almost as if these people who are 'stealing' my work are actually working with me, not against me. They are helping me grow and spreading my name.

Though, no one has stolen my work (that I know of). And if they did, my immediate reaction would definitely not be a positive one.

At least now if something like this happened, I'd have a written document to refer to in order to help me think about the situation.

Response to Jacque Lacan


Response to Jacque Lacan

This was a response written for my class, that I thought was fascinating. It's ironic that I'm even posting it. The article was 'Lacan's Mirror Stage', and you can find information about it online, or the actual written thing.

In Lacan’s highly thought out excerpt about the ‘Mirror Stage’, the author provides the reader with an in depth explanation of his studies regarding younger children and their development spanning between 6 and 18 months. Lacan describes this process with a concept and an act – the concept being this ‘mirror stage’, and the act being the child looking into the mirror, at their reflection, and basking in the falsified image presented before them. An ego is built upon this image, the irony being that the image is actually false. It is necessary for one to grasp the sense of the image visually, as most people are gifted with sight and live their lives daily based on the visuals surrounding them. Lacan further exaggerates the idea of the ego by talking about narcissism, and contrasting narcissistic libido and sexual libido.

This reading was very difficult to understand, and if it wasn’t for the commentary in the right column, I probably would have absolutely no idea what was going on. To further add on to Lacan’s theory about narcissistic libido reflected by the mirror, I’d like to argue that although there may be a time where the mirror stage “ends”, there are also instances in the childs (or adults) life that reflect the feelings they felt during the mirror stage – especially in contemporary society. Tools are created that mimic the function of a mirror, and possibly further accentuate or add complexity to a simple reflection. Photography can be used as a means of rekindling the ideas discussed about the mirror stage, yet instead of it being something physically in front of you, it is a moment frozen in time, not moving as the subject does. Yet, this photo can be portable, as a way of admiring it yourself, or possibly passing it on to others, hoping they will admire it as much as you did. Websites such as Facebook and Twitter allow the person to “gift” their audiences with the opportunity to see what they look like at that moment, or how a certain outfit fits them, etc. This turns a simple ‘mirror image’, into a traveling one – one that can be shared, and one that can be equally admired by others, boosting the narcissism that comes with it. Alongside photography is the ability to record oneself in a video. So not only does the image turn into something that’s interactive, but it incorporates the other senses. This allows the subject to experience the moment in time more vividly than they would with photography, actually going so far as accessing history in order to review or rekindle their memory of themselves in that moment in time. Like photography, it is something that can be shared, allowing the audience to not only be the self, but to be an array of other people accompanying the person and subconsciously enforcing or encouraging the narcissistic libido.

Camera vs. Frame [short]


Camera vs. Frame [short]

I'm curious about the physical notion of a camera versus a frame. In a not-so-odd way, I feel that they have almost the same function.

A camera acts as a device that captures a moment in time, generally limited to a certain size, bound within walls.
A frame acts as a device the holds this moment in time, generally limited to a certain size, bound within walls.


So in a way, when one takes a photo, could they also be framing it at the same time? Though the obvious answer may be 'of course they are, they must frame it before they shoot the actual photo'. But what about after the fact?

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