Mind, Trials, and Creativity
of Eric Homan
(Through
the Years)”
-My Life-
-A Creativity Dogma-
by Eric Homan
~Written from 1993 thru 2011~
Copyright 2011, Eric Homan
"Who I Am As An Artist”
aka:
Everything You Wanted To Know About Eric Homan
(But Was Afraid To Ask)”
by Eric Homan
Contents Within:
Insights/ Philosophies/
Manifestoes/ Theories/ Concepts/ Rantings/
Beliefs/ Dreams/ Notes/ Cacophonies/ Thoughts/ Clues/ Confessions/ Thoughts/ Dogmas/ Dissertations/ Thesis/ Critiques/ Essays/
Propaganda/ Opinions/ Ideas/ Views/ Notions/
Proposals/ Hypothesis/ Arguments/ Judgments/
Feelings/ Attitudes/ Values/ Beliefs/ Convictions/ Principles/ Aesthetics/
Menu of Catharsis/ Contents
“Who I Am As An Artist” aka: Everything
You Wanted To Know About Eric Homan (But Was Afraid To Ask)”
Opening Quotes
Preface - “What’s It All For?”
The Purpose of All of This
Why Make Art?
What Drives Us?
Forward
What Drives Me?
The Journal Dates
Personal Advisory
Personal Intro
A Mini-Snapshot of My Life
Examples of My Computer Artwork
My Personal Expression
Continuing Anguish and Questions for My Mother's
Death
Memories
of My Mother
I Should Be Dead
These
Very Words Should Not Exist
Art as “Entertainment” Therapy
“Artist’s Statement”: A Universal Personal
Art Experience
“Empathy Art”
Dealing with Feelings
Some Family and Personal Background
I Am
a Powerless Super-Hero, But an Empowered Artist
“The Record Breaker”
My
Sporting Event Is The Creative Arts
Being Different in a
Escaping
Small Town Life
High School Revenge
Fantasies
A Hometown Without Ambition Beyond
Babymakin'
The
Boredom of Small Town Life Made Me
Choosing
Art Over Athletics
No Football for Me
High School Glory Days?
Finding
My Confidence and Freedom in College
Gaining
My Confidence Up
Wanting
Girls' Affections in High School
My Esteemed Peers, the Cheaters
Grading Average Motivation
Evening the Odds
My Hidden
My CCAD Freshman Year
Keep on Going
The Trials and Traumas of Surviving
My Identity As a Computer Artist
Dealing with the
Profundity of Loss
Would I Be Doing More Commercial Art If
My Mother Hadn't Died?
Now What Do I Do?
Freaking Out
I Could Not Deny My Desires or Bizarre Imagination
Judgment Day for a
Control Freak
Desperate Personality Transformation
Not
Getting Into
Do I
Nearing Graduation: A Most Intensely Stressful Time of My Life
Direction-less
Beware of Making Art School a Fantasy Land
Fear the Premature Death of My Creativity
"Would You Work in the Porn Video
Industry?"
A
I Made It, But What About My High
School Classmates?
The Dirty Little Secret of How I
Succeeded: Being Single
Uncertainty at the Crossroads: Sex and
Love vs. My Future
The Moment I Truly Realized I Was an Artist
One of the Events That Got Me Out of My Shell
An
Extremely Stressful and Transitional Period in My Life
Making Amends with Leaving Columbus and
My Colleagues Behind
Saying Goodbye to a Girlfriend and
Columbus - My Two Loves
Getting Rid of My Past for a New
Beginning
My Days on the Edge of the World
My Days on the Edge of
the World
My Artistic Genesis, Creation, and Motivation
The Motivation to Work Hard
Too
Sensitive for Life
Psychoanalysis for Me
Reflecting Back at My Graduates Peers…
The Spiritual Convictions of a Free-Spirited Artist
I’m So Afraid that the
Things I Create Won’t Matter to Anyone Else But Me
Despair Returns
The Battle to Conquer Left-Brained
Computer Animation
Be a Figment of Our Collective
Subconsciousness
In Moral Conflict
Money Is Security
Personal Art for Others
Too Much Bad Art and Information Is Killing the Good Real Art
Public Speaking Catharsis
The Battle to Stand Out
The Family Strain
Empty Social Life
I've Got to Change That I Don’t
Communicate
Life/ Imagination Overload
I Suspect I've
Got a Lot of Growing Up and Maturing Left to Do
Life Is a Physical Imagination
Originality Is Not Appreciated or
Even... Understood
Impossible to Live in Life
Self-Expressive “Depression Art”
Do I Have Sentimental Anguish?
I Need to Remember So I Can Release
Struggling with Learning So
Much Technical Information
Eating Out with a Friend Shouldn’t Be Considered a Waste of
Time
Struggling with the 3D Technology
A Superhero
Artist
Frustration at My Classmates' Apathy
for My Artwork
“What I Learned During My First
Semester in Graduate School”
An Art Battle
My Graduate School Work Schedule
Struggling with Public Speaking
But What About the Art Side of Art?
I’ve Learned
That I’m Forgetting!
Hopeless Tonight
Considering a
Fulfilling My Life Goals
“Introspections”
Losing a 100+ Hours of Work on a Hard
Drive
No One Understands My Animated
Artwork
Worked Up and Introverted in My Art
and Studies
Trying to Find Universal Clarity
Frustrated by the Limitations of My
Mind
My Emotionally Raw Reaction to the
Straining to Make Friendship and
Artistic Connections
Attention Deficit Disorder
Panic Attack Fears and Revelations
Just Steer Your Brain to Being Truly
Creative
“Who Is Your Target
Audience?”
“Mad”
The Risks of Making Art
Feeling Good Again (After the First
Full Year of Graduate School)
To What Purpose, Art?
What Will I Do After Graduate School?
“Struggling
Artist”
Technological Software Overload
I Don’t Know
What to Do Next
Do You Think
There Will Be a Teaching Job Opening Up?
Sacrifice My Ambitions
My Pain Poured Out as Empathy for
Vincent van Gogh
Update
Letter to My Former CCAD Interactive Art Professor
Too Many Responsibilities to Keep Up
With
My Introverted Fantasy World Is Going
Extinct
Holy Huge
Turnaround Day
Growing Up a
Bit from Desperate Realizations
The Price I Pay as an Artist and a
Dreamer
Our Emotional Landscape
My Impetus to
Work Harder
Possible Competition for the
Teacher's Position
Getting My Foot in the Teaching Door
Fear of Honest Words
Continued Teaching Competition Fears
Teaching Trial by Fire
My Big
Breakthrough: Getting a PC Computer at Home
First Impressions of Teaching
My First Teaching Experience
Answering a Major Life Question
I Feel Like I’m Doing Some Good in the World by Helping People Out
My Computer and Life Crashed
Today I Taught a Class All by Myself
Graduate
School: Year Two - 96 Hours a Week!
Stop and Reflect on How
"Good" Things Are for Me
Living in the
Moment
More
Good News… and More Stress
Feeling
Much More Confident
Gaining and Fulfilling a Sense of Personal
Independence
Urgency
Re-Emerged Into My Life
My Professional Life Solidifies
I'm Not So Sure Anymore
A Turning Point in My Life
Accepting Loss… and Accepted Insanity
Is This Too Much for Me?
"Is That a Filter?"
The Big Breakdown
My Day of
Recovery
The One Who is Falling
The Heck with Hollywood
My Emotions Scream, “BOO!”
I Can
Survive Anything
Get Goofy to
Deal with the Stress
Emotionalism
Scared of Losing My Creative and
Artistic
Urgency
My Life and Computers Keep Crashing
“Vincent van Dali”
Art Is How I
Communicate the Best
“Not again, not
again, not again…”
Reflect on the Positives
“Professor Homan”
The Struggle Continues…
To Be Lost to Feel More Alive?
To Prove Myself
Searching the Dark Depths of Creative
Self-Expression
Uncertainties
Facing Change: An
Artist Having to Deal with the Real World
The Great Benefits of Teaching
Rather Be
Troubled Than Happy
What Am I To Be?
Work All the
Time
VICTORY! IN CLASSROOM
Facing the Obscurity of My Artwork
To Live a Life Remembered
I Fear My Own Honesty
Computer Arts = Little or No Social
Life
I’ve Had
Enough
A Future Beyond The Center
I Made My Stand
and Got My Results
Creativity
Should Be the Star
I'm “Art-Sexual”
I Desperately Need a Social Life
One of the Largest Main Concerns of
My Life Is Taken Care of
“You Gotta Love to Burn”
Isolation Can Be So Quietly Deadly
I Just Am
Life Had
Become Comedy to Me
The Pain to Create
Is It a Sin to Feel Too Much Inside?
An Artist’s Never Satisfied
The “Suicide” of My Artist Personality Side
Securing a Full-Time
Job in Academia Right Out of
The Artist’s Sacrifice of Oneself
"You
Can't Go Back Home Again"
Reflections After Finishing Graduate
School
Art to Orgasm
Art as a Medicine
Positive Employment Direction
The Cost for the Price of Creativity
A New Beginning in Academia
A
“Daily Crisis”
How I’ve Changed
Reasons for My “Fantasy World”
I Became The
Sacrifice
Are We Having Fun or Trying
To Have "Fun"?
Invisible Art
Better to Work in Seclusion?
Looked Over by Film Festivals
“All Talked Out”
Relationships and Their Consequences on
an Artist
Work to Get the Girl
I've Got the Time
Acceptance and Action - Loneliness Fuel
My
Fantasy World vs. My Reality World
The Urgency Continues…
My Big, Naïve Fantasy of Returning to
My Hometown the Conquering Artist Hero
Neil Young Empathies
I'm an Outcast Mutant Artist
Post-Beatles Burnout Warning
What Social Group Do I Fit In?
Once Life and Movies Grew Routine…
Artists Exist in a Hyper-Sensitive
Dimension
The Constant Struggles of Being a
Self-Expressive Artist
My "True" Spiritual Family of
Artists
The
Art Suffocation by the Real World
Rejections
‘R’ Me
A Dangerous Sacrifice
Anti-Drugs Advice
Finding Pride in Escaping My Small Town
Hometown
Omens at the Center for My Future
Insights to Make You Live Before You Die
The Crippling Loneliness
Being Anti-Drugs
A Fear of Being
“Award-Winning” Faculty Member
Adrift on the Ocean of Life
"The Incident" and My Innocence
Reflecting on the Eric
of the Future Tense
Preferring Art Over Weddings
I Found a New Religion
Embrace Chaos
The Love Art Blues
A Quicksand of Sensitivity
The Art or The Woman?
Walking the Vincent van Gogh Path
Fun Unexpected Events
A Stroll Through My Hometown
What If I Had Grown Up in an Art Small Town After
All?
Taking a Stand to Make a Change with My
Vacant Social Life
"Would You Like Fries With That?"
The Sad Irony That Personal Dismay
Helps Provoke Art
My Continuing War with Myself
“The Bad News Breaks”
One's Imagination Is a Party
Too Artistic-Minded to Want to Raise
Children?
I Have a Pet Black Despair
How To Feel Free Inside
An Artist with an Audience
It’s All in the Mind
I
Poured My Heart
My Long Road
Anti-Depressants
Hollywood
= Hollowood
Film
Criticism Food for Thought
Reflecting on My Transition to Teaching
Elsewhere
Art
as God
Becoming More Open-Minded and
Extroverted
Believing in Your Art
When No One Else Does
Artists vs. the Media
Living in Perfect, Horrifying Isolation
A
Sheltered Existence Adds To An Extraordinary Imagination
The Artist Utopia
The Artist Wild Card
The
Art Warriors and Causalities - The Blood of Creative Artists
It's Just Life
Artists
vs. Society’s Apathy Migraine
Self-Expression Anyway
…AND THE VERDICT FOR MY FUTURE IS IN…
The Telephone Interview
“Who Is It For?
-CLOSURE
DAY-
"I Suppose I Do My Art 'For
Fun'"
Insecurity Creates Creativity
Letting Go
Form a Creative/ Technical Partnership
I HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE
The Personal Is the Universal
Into the Subconscious
Having a Social Life
vs. Introspection of Art-Making
The
Dangers of Taking a Solitary Existence to Its Extremes
Creating Art Is My Self-Esteem Boost
I Am a By-Product of
the Legacy of Vincent Van Gogh
Understanding
"Entertainment Art"
Returning Home a
"Hero" Because I Won Back My Confidence
"You Should See a Psychiatrist"
To
"Live" Through Creating Art
A
Personal State of Emergency
I’m
a Dream-Maker, Damn It
The
Sacrifice Continues
The
Artistic Creation Seduction
The
Family/ Art Spiritual Divide
Unsatisfied
My First Day Teaching at CCAD
I
Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way
Teaching at CCAD
Assessing
My First Semester Teaching at CCAD
You Can't Please Everyone
A Student's Different Opinion
Fighting
for Recognition and Attention Through Making Art
Adults Are Too
“Mature” and “Hip” to Play Anymore
No
Relationship Benefits and Downsides
Art
to Connect Our Sense of Humanity
How To Waste My Time Productively
Making
a Positive Impact as a Teacher
Make Your Own Art If What's Around You Doesn't Excite You
Animation to Infinity
Art Out of Urgency
The Emotional Highs of Creating Art
Balancing Creating Art with Getting Out with Friends
Can
You Have a Big Ego If No One Knows Who You Are?
Don't
Feel Too Deeply Inside
I Hate Routines
In
a State of Emotional and Artistic Flux
My
Spirit Is Spiraling
Look
at All That I've Accomplished
Sometimes
Great Art Needs Extreme Emotions
My Sensitivity Complex
Super
Heroes and Artists
The
Artist vs. Athletes
My
Artist's Declaration
I
Am an Artist Hybrid of Society
Stay
Active and Creative
My
Life of Surrealism
"Creative
Class"
Where
Is the Grand Payoff Already?
Winter
Time: Stay Indoors and Get Creative
If
My Mother Were Alive Today…
I
Can Be My Own "God"
What If...?
The Ups and Downs of Family Gatherings
I Thrive Off of Eccentricity
Having Real Emotional and Mental Relations
Virgins
of Creativity
Fear
of Inactivity and Repetition
The
Freedom of Being Single
An
Artist Amongst Family
The
Emotional Aftershocks the Following Morning
Finally,
A Good Family Conversation
An
Impossible Situation
My Bachelorhood vs. My Art
The
Challenges of a Bachelor Artist
The
Curse of Being A Single Artist
I’m
Still Dreaming
Teaching Philosophy
My Schizophrenic Introvert/ Extroverted
Duality
Defending My Personality Differences to My
Family
The
Introspective Struggle to Finish My Art
Defending Your Individualism
Shake
Things Up
The Surrealism of Teaching at One's Alma Mater
The
Personal Sacrifice of Personal Art
Remaining
Young In Spirit
Art - A Greater Alternative to Sex
Use
Your Artists Properly
Release All This Tension Inside as Art
My
Built Fantasies Beat Your Rundown Conversations
Dealing with
Rejections
I've
Grown Well Beyond My Coldwater Roots
Art Is Necessary
“What the Hell Have I Done With My Life?!”
“A
Fine Depression”
“Feeling
Shitty Anonymous”
No
Choice But To Be Different
Art to Ecstasy
Should
I Sacrifice My Creativity for a Family?
Funeral
Rights
I
Know Who I Am
Fraternity
Freaks vs. Eric Homan on a Perfect Spring Day
The Sense of Humor of
Surrealism
A
Relief To Remain an Anonymous Artist
My
Artwork Is My Love Life
Time To Grow Up
You Have To Compromise
Art
Without a Deadline
Re-Graduation Day
Wild Eccentricity Usually Has No Use In Society 99% of the Time
Making
Art Is Easy for Me…
Finding
the "Freedom" to Work
What
Complete Despair Feels Like
Enjoy
the Seclusion?
Looking
for a Love…
How
Do I "Show The World" What Amazing Creativity I've Got Inside?
A
Romantic Relationship Can “Wreck” One’s Dreams and Ambitions - and Vice Versa
I
Need To Release Myself
Reflecting
on an Alternate Fate of Being Unemployed
"To
Ms. Psychiatrist (My Journal), It's My Conservative Family…"
I
Woke Up - I Got Out
New Day Resolutions
Glory Years Are Ahead,
Not Behind
Garden
Some Art Instead
The
Importance of Employment
This
Despairing Loneliness Creates an Opening to Change
I’m
An Escapism Addict
Art
Is the Tool for Divine Communication
The
Question of When to Have Children
A
Message to the Friends I've Known
The Necessity to Play
My Fantasy World Is So
Strong
Risking
My Life for My Artwork
A
Walking Contradiction
Are There No Jobs for Creativity?
Art vs. Adulthood: A
Sobering Moment of Clarity
Fear of Being
“Domesticated”
The
Oddities of Existence on Our Planet Channeled Through My Artwork
The
Danger of Living Too Deeply in One’s Imagination
Will
Getting Married Replace My Dreams?
When
Depression and Despair Gets a Hold of Me…
Art Is An Answer
Is
It Better To Be “Lonely”?
"I
Can’t Lose My Freedom"
It's
Time to Choose Between the “Love/ Art Blues”
A
Friendless Daze of Days
The
Fight for Life of the Obsolete Artist
Accidentally
Losing Artwork
The Anti-Depressant Society
I’ve
Got The Infinite!
We
All Need Our Depression
I'd
Rather Be Making Art Rather Than Be Making Small Talk
I
Want To Use My Creative/ Artistic/
Acting/ Writing Abilities in Something
Feeling
the Urgency of Discovery
Family… or Dreams?
A Chemistry Set of Creativity
Dealing with Lost Dreams and Sacred
Art Emotions
That’s
What Dreams Do
I
Am An Undercover Artistic Genius
Suicide Me/
Erase Me
The
Artist From the Small Town Known for Sports
Breaking
Down My Method of Teaching
Teaching at an
I
Am Constantly Moving Forward With
Making New Art
I’m
Committing Suicide by Creating Art
I've
Rebelled From Having an Average Life
One
Day I Will Have Children
Today
Is the Best Day of Your Life
Poisonous
Jealousy
Art
Should Be Made for Oneself
Making
Art and Using One's Imagination Is Better Than Sex
The
Pain Will End/ The Joy Will Begin
We
Keep Hitting Those Highest Highs
The Creative Thought Process
Computer
Art as a Last Ditch Emotional Rescue Device
Existential Self-Deprecating Artist Loathing
Enjoy Yourself, Young Man
Gaining Some Self-Assertion
Winners
and/ or Losers
The
Time to Express Creative Ideas
A Dangerously Dreamer Extraordinaire
I Need Dreams for Fuel
The
Most Creative (and Anguished) Period in My Life
(Super Heroic) Self-Determination
Art Finds the Meaning in Existence
Fear
of Losing My Artistic Goals
This
"Artistic Freedom"
I Am an Artistic Vessel of Creative Confusion
Kicking
My Shyness
A Portrait of Deep Clinical Depression on a Late Autumn Day
I Was Gone
An Artist’s Defiant Revolution of Society’s Status Quo
Escaping From the Bad News Networks
Selling
Sex vs. Imagination
I've
Gone to the Limits of My Creative Existence
Chemical
Imbalances Are Performing a Circus for Me
Why
Worry?
Have an Art Day Today
Healing Art Dreams
I’m
Not Gay
Does
It Really Matter?
I’m
Dying Here, But I’ve Never Felt So Alive
Digital
Artist Discovery?
Existential
Teaching Job Position?
Anti-Depressants
Keep Me From Being Too Bothered by the Instability of Life
Fear the Creative
Teaching, My Dream Job?
My
Research into the Creative Mind
Retaining the Spirit of that 12-Year-Old Inside
The
Need to Get My Work Published and Recognized
I’m
High on Feeling Down
The Commercial Formula (“It’s All
So Clear To Me Now”)
I Feel So Alive with the Music on My Side
Suffering from Creativity Withdrawal
The
Ingredients for My Eccentricity
My
Crippled Self
This
Life Is Performance
Anti-Wake Up!
I’m
Living the Life
The
Back to School Blues
Back
to School Observations
Don't
Fit Into This World
Adapt
to the Pain, Kid
Relatively Fortunate Circumstances
“Why Are We Doing Here Existing?”
Expanding the Brain’s
Imagination Powers
Seeking
and Seeing New Creative Worlds
Change - Your
- Mind
The
Weather, Words, and Images Rejuvenated Me
An
Artistic Self-Expression of the Surreal World Surrounding Me
I
Love What I Do - Teaching
Estranged
from the Catholic Church
This Spark of
Inspiration
A
Master of Absurdism and Surrealism
Reflections
on Rejections
"It’s
All Right"
Domesticity Is a Killer to the Creative Drive
My
Sensitive Imagination
Breakups
Devastate My Urge to Make Art
Living in My Own
Personal Fantasy World
So Damned Lucky – I
Never Stopped Dreaming
“Fantasy” Hitting Bottom
I
Feel the Pulse of the Clock Ticking Away
To
Be Mindless and Unaware Again
The
Downsides to Teaching
I
Can See Outside of Myself
Teachers
Are "Failed" Artists
How
Can Normal Life Possibly Compare to the Human Imagination?
Wish
We Had Been Something Else?
My
Timeless Art
Teaching
or Industry Work?
Panic
Attack: I Hope the World Ends Soon
Reality
and Responsibility Are Smacking Me in the Face Again
The Collaboration Between
Teacher and Student
Solitude,
My Secret Disease
The
Greatest Gift of Being a Teacher: Never Compromising My Artistic Vision
Where Is My Audience?
"Keep
Working on Your Art"
Eric’s "Great Depression"
The
Emotion Test
Teaching and Speaking From the Heart
Artists
and Dating
To
Truly Help People
What
Is To Become of Artists with Great Imagination and Creativity?
The
Bad Fortune of My "Success"
Finding a Job in the
Arts
To
The Pretty Girls Who Have Passed Me By
Six
Years Later… An Artist and Teacher Born
Many
Great Artists Were Teachers
I
Fear My Own Solitude
Existential
Terrorist-Fueled Dread in the Age of Surrealism
Swimming
and/ or Drowning
My Artistic Affair
Artists
Want More Meaning Out of Our Existence
Love
Yourself Again
Just
a Depressed Mass of Atoms
We’ve
All Got Our Addictions
This
“Life” Is a Lie!
Erase My Personality and Start All Over Again
My Moment of
Existential Clarity
A
Disease Called Loneliness
How I’ve Grown as a Professional and as an Adult
I've
Done the Work
Where
Do I Fit In, God?
Art Funding Is Essential for the Well-Being of Our Nation
My
Advantage Over My Competitors
Things
Are Working Out
I've
Got to Keep Working at What I'm Doing
What
If My Family Had an "Intervention" for Me?
My
Final Conversation with My Mother
We're
Different in Our Own Special Ways
Censor
Ourselves From the Insanity
WE
ARE ALL HUMAN
Has
My Art Ruined My Private Life?
So
Why Do It? Why Make Art?
A Crisis of Choosing Art Over People
What
Will Become of Me and You, Loneliness?
Controlling Your Light
Teaching with
Confidence
Being Professional vs.
Being Eccentric
An Artist Gaining a
Personal Life
Don’t Compare Yourself
to Those Around You
The Quest to Be Creative and Be in a
Relationship at the Same Time
Do I Have To Conform?
EVERYTHING IS CREATIVE
An Unhappy Creative
Life vs. a Happy
Finding Peace: How to
Be Happy as an Artist
An Artist without an
Audience
Living On as an Artist
The Power Trip
Art Isn’t About Money
Being Driven Isn’t
Enough
Artists Hold Nothing
Back
It’s Just Not That
Simple
Where Do My Ideas or
Any Ideas Come From?
No New Ideas?!?
Columbus
Isn't So Bad After All
Fear of Having
Children
The Curse (or Gift) of
Being Ambitious and Depressed
Abstract
Film vs. Commercial Movies
The Creativity Trap
My Artistic Superhero Superpowers
Feeling the Most Alive with a Chaotic Hurt
"Depression Artwork"
Prepare
Yourself to Be an Obscure Artist for Life
If We're
Taking the Same Pictures, How Do I Make My Own Images Different?
Finding
Beauty in What Others Don't Obviously See
Temporary Finite Art - Like Rainbows
How a Conservative
Family with an Artist In It Grow Apart
"There's Too Many Movies In The
World For My Own" Crisis Question
Release
Both Versions of the Movie on a Single DVD
The Loss of Creativity
in the Real World Work Setting
Why I Am Attracted To
Surrealism
Steps to Improving
Your Art
Having an “Imaginary Friend” for
Creative Satisfaction
The van Gogh Legacy
Artistic Confession
Love and Art
Exposing and Exorcising Personal Demons
Good Fortune and the
Guilt
Working Hard
Artistic “Real World” Conflict
Introspective
or Anti-Social... or Both?
The
Real Thing
Looking
Out For Your Creativity
Beware
of Reality
An
Artist’s
The Relationship Between Artist and
Audience
The Road of Artistic Honesty in a
Commercial World
The Dilemma of Being a Digital Artist
“Art for the Self”/
“Art for the Soul”
The Right-Brained, But Right-Handed
Dilemma
The Uncool
“Do I Have Anything To Say?”
Looking Past the “Self-Indulgent”
Surface and Finding One’s Own Expression
Artistic Progression
Creating
Art as a War and Crusade
“Creating
Art on a Natural Emotional High”
Problems with Selling
Your Artwork
Positive Personal Life
Changes/ Art Life Evolves
A Happy Ending to My
Personal Life
“For
No One”
Catch-22 of
Movie-Making
The Effects on an
Artist After Getting Marriage
Alas, My Personal Life
Wins Over My Artistic/ Emotional Life
Is
It All Worth It?
Encountering Someone
Else Who’s Made the Same Movie You Did
The Perils of Small
Independent Filmmaking
I'm
an Eccentric and an Artist Because…
Contemplating How Fast
Life Gets After 30
No Way to L.A. - "Say Goodbye to Hollywood"
The
Blur
"I
Love Growing Old"
I
Don't Want to Be Normal
Be
a Normal
Why
Even Make Art Anymore in Your Mid-Thirties?!? (Another Pre Mid-Life Crisis)
Slowing Down - Not As Much Time, Energy or Drive
Anymore
Music
and Art Are "Just Entertainment"?!??!!
We
All Want to Be the Dream of Superheroes
My Present Tense Goals
Random
Quotes
Sorta Says It All, Doesn't It?
A Rich Man of Dreams
The
Down Side of Teaching
My
Deepest Sympathy for Psychiatrists
The
Domestic Lifestyle Has Finally Caught Up with Me
What
Am I Good At?
“Who I Am As An Artist”
aka:
Everything You Wanted To Know About Eric Homan
(But Was Afraid To Ask)
Opening Quotes
2-4-11: "There's an awfully fine line between creative
and crazy… not to mention how similar they both sound." -Eric Homan.
"The end of art is peace. And the pursuit of art
is like the pursuit of religion in the intense preoccupation it demands."
-W.B. Yeats.
"Ain't
a day goes by I don't burn a little bit of my soul." -"Cocaine
Eyes" by Neil Young.
"Dreaming... Dreaming is
free." -"Dreaming" by Blondie.
Preface - “What’s It All For?”
12-23-98:
“After showing my sister Tanya my Zoo
interactive piece, she asked plainly, yet provocatively: “What is all of this for?... I mean, who is this for?” I had to
act. So I wrote my artist’s defense:”
The Purpose of All of This
7-29-10: This was written not just for those curious
about what an artist goes through in one’s life. But mainly, I wrote and edited
together these journal excerpts for those who have gone through loneliness. I
know these feelings well. I wish I had known another who was going through what
I was dealing with for so many years. So hopefully these words are helpful,
healing, empathetic, and cathartic to others who want to know that they are not
alone when dealing with this disease.
Why Make Art?
10-31-09: I've been compiling together all these
words as a personal exploration of why art is important as well as being
personally and emotionally significant. I wanted to address how it could affect
our humanity if we cannot express ourselves. How it would make us crazy and
violently destructive to one another. Use my “Portrait of a Digital Artist”
essays as content and personal narrative to learn from. I feel that my best
qualities are of stressing content and expressing emotion - no matter the risk.
Be fearless. Be alive. Make art and learn why.
What Drives Us?
3-23-04: What drives
us? Childhood memories? Dreams unfulfilled? Love unattained? Lack of attention?
Lack of money? Poverty driven? Dream driven? I’d like to know these things of
myself.
Forward
4-13-08: I felt compelled to write some sort of
forward to what you’re about to read because, for me, it’s like someone else
entirely wrote it. You see, the following writings were journal entries of
sorts for over a decade of my life that chronicles the ups and many downs of my
life as an artist. With every depressing episode I had, I have to acknowledge
that in a sense… it’s all been worth it. “I’ve made it.” I’ve gotten the
majority of what I wanted out of life. And like life, it still has its upsets and
disappointments. When you’re young, you aspire to such unrealistic dreams and
goals for one self, like becoming a major moviemaker like Steven Spielberg and
such. Of course, once you get older and wiser, you realize that Mr. Spielberg
had more than just talent on his side, but an enormous amount of luck. And his
life hasn’t always been a walk in the park just because he’s gained a certain
degree of mega-success.
How this all relates to my own life is that I also
wanted to make it big as a movie director when I was growing up to show all
those who teased me and doubted me when I was a kid. I was obsessive about it.
I worked like the devil possessed and maybe worked a bit too intensely to get
ahead. I made my life so much about being good at art that I eventually
neglected being good at being a personable human being.
So that is why I am here and now writing about where
my life is at now. Because what you’re about to read can be so honest, strange,
revealing, disturbing, cathartic, and emotional, you may not believe I will
ever be a happy and well-rounded person again. What one needs to realize is
that when I wrote the things I have, I was a different person in very different
times. I’m happy to disclose that I did find a way to a balance of my artistic
side with a personal life. I am engaged to be married to an absolutely
wonderful woman named Lisa. We own a lovely home in
Now
that doesn’t mean I don’t still get down or upset some days. I still face down
my depression sometimes, but I feel that I am gaining a greater sense of
control and confidence. I didn’t become a household name
And
as you read, know this: I still have my sense of humor intact. Remember that as
you proceed forward… with caution. My
life awaits.
" I've
been down the road and I've come back; lonesome
whistle on railroad track. Ain't got
nothing on those feelin's that I had. Something so hard to find: a
situation that can casu'lize your mind." -“Mellow My Mind” by Neil Young.
What Drives Me?
6-20-04: I
write about the things that motivate me so I and others know exactly why I do
the things I’ve do. Why exactly am I
so ambitious to be successful? What
drives me? That is why I spent years
writing up those essays for people, especially my immediate family, to
understand me. Do they know what trauma I went through in school in Coldwater?
The “public humiliation” of being teased on a daily basis to the point where
you were afraid of being alive? What mind-numbing work that I did as a
custodian at your high school for three full years will do to your mindset in
driving you to never want to go back to that type of monotonous, mechanical,
repetitious manual labor work again?! These are just some of the things I
poured out of my soul for people to read about, understand, and learn from. And
not just to understand me, but to learn about themselves as well. These
writings are to begin the healing process - an emotional and creative catharsis
so-to-speak. What it comes down to is that my artwork is bigger than me, bigger than my family, bigger than my job,
bigger than any of us. It’s for all.
The Journal Dates
1-14-10: The reason I kept in the journal dates for
many of these entries is that I felt it was important for the reader to
understand the time and age I was writing these particular sections. The more
you read, the more it becomes about the growth and maturity of an artist and a
human being. The way I feel in 2010 is not the same way I felt in 2000. This is
why I found it essential to understand that these writings are for very
different versions of myself from very unique and special time periods. Though
the me of today may not agree or think the way I used to in 2003 or 1998 or
whenever, I still find that version of myself to be a rather interesting
personality type with an intensely passionate point of view on life. I may or
may not have that same kind of passion and articulated perspective I do now.
Therefore these writings are the story of an artist's growth selected through
my journals.
Personal Advisory
9-3-10:
The following entries are dated when they were written. This is extremely
important to note because I am not the same person I was when I first wrote
these journal entries. So please don't take them out on me of the present
tense. The "me" of 2003 is somewhat of a stranger to the
"me" of 2010. That's why I can share these journals. They're
informative and deeply personal. Yet they're also so far removed from who I am
today that I feel comfortable sharing them. They're from a totally different mindset and emotional circumstances. So
understand that and be sensitive to that fact when reading them.
Personal Intro:
“Hello,
my name is Eric Homan. And please, call me ‘Eric’.”
Believe me, this is a great privilege to
be able to present a statement of who I am as an artist, why I do computer art,
and what my art pieces are about. When I see a gallery show of a particular
artist’s work, I find myself always looking for and reading the artist’s
statement with great interest for its additional background, complexity, and
insight on their art that isn’t directly expressed in the work itself. This is
especially helpful when experiencing art that is self-expressive and
surrealistic. With the additional explanation from the artist, I often find
myself empathizing and appreciating the work more on a personal basis, as if I
was let in on its secrets and emotions. I hope you find my following comments,
philosophies, and explanations just as revealing and enlightening. “Let me show
you the contents of my artistry...”:
Statement Intro
Throughout
most of my childhood and up into adulthood, people who knew me told me that I
didn't talk much. Well that's true - unless it's about a topic that I actually
do have something to say about. I
won't talk about sports if they're not interesting to me. But if it's about
certain specific topics involving art, movies, music, or emotions - I have
plenty to express. I only speak when I feel it's necessary and worthwhile. I
don't want to waste my time or energy on boring chit-chat small talk
conversations. When a topic arises that I feel deeply about, I express it
passionately like a man possessed.
So
the following essays are topics that I felt a need to express. If I didn't feel
that they were important enough to write about, I wouldn't have bothered. They
exist before I consciously choose for them to
exist and be read. They are not the average, ordinary banter. They have
meaning to me and hopefully to many other people as well. I wish to share my
sensitivity through my art and writing.”
I realized that there is a key
ingredient missing from the majority of artwork that I look at. As an anonymous
viewer, I am lacking a personal relationship with the artists. I don’t
personally know them. Just imagine how much you feel for a friend or
family member’s artwork than you would normally for some stranger’s artwork.
The personal connection is what makes you see into the soul of the art. So that
is why I choose to write so extensively and exhaustively my “Artist’s
Statements” in order to make that personal connection with those who experience
my artwork. I want them to know about me in order to feel about
the artwork. If you understand my background and where the artwork came from,
then the work takes on an entirely new and enhanced sensitive meaning. I ever
so desperately want my work to matter. So I put in the time and energy to make
it so. I hope it shows that I cared enough to share my inner life with
you.
My Formal Biography
Short Version #1
Eric Homan is an assistant professor who teaches Motion Graphics, Computer
Animation, and Video classes at the Columbus College of Art and Design in
downtown Columbus, Ohio. He earned a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in
Time-Based Media Studies from CCAD in 1998 and
received his Master of Fine Arts degree in Computer Arts at Florida Atlantic
University in 2000. Eric employs his skills of using computers as a means of
communication and self-expression. He has received several awards from around
the world for his artwork, including a Telly Award in 2001 for his computer
animation piece “Life Forms”. In 2004, Eric began a foray into documentary
filmmaking with “Treasures of the Hocking Hills” and “David Hostetler: Artist
In Nature”, both focusing on the artist communities in southeastern Ohio. He
followed these up with various projects, especially “Western Heavens on Earth”,
an artistic exploration of the American West, and “Comic Book Culture”, an
examination of the comic book allure of someone who seeks creativity. He
specializes in digital video, 3D animation, digital compositing, motion
graphics, interactive art, and sound design.
Eric
Homan, assistant professor,
Media Studies and Animation, teaches and specializes in video, motion graphics,
and computer animation. He has received several awards from around the world
for his artwork, including a Telly Award in 2001 for his computer animation
piece "Life Forms." His documentary films
include Treasures of the Hocking Hills, David Hostetler: Artist in
Nature, Western Heavens on Earth, and Comic Book Culture. BFA,
CCAD; MFA, Florida Atlantic University. Web site: www.erichoman.com
Long Version #1
How to sum up one's life in a matter of paragraphs?
I'll do my best:
I was born and raised in Coldwater, Ohio, a small
town of about 5,000 people on the western-middle section of the state.
Coldwater is best known most as a sports town where their high school sporting
teams go to state championships almost every year in football, basketball, and
baseball. There just isn't that much to do in a small town, so therefore sports
ruled all. Though I liked some sports, I found myself veering away from that
lifestyle as I grew up. Around the age of 15, I found myself developing a
talent for creative writing. Yet I absolutely loved movies, adored music, and
treasured reading comics and graphic novels. These were my central passions. I
never quite fit in with the rest of my peers since someone who is
"creative" and a dreamer doesn't fit in much with a town full of jocks
and cheerleaders surrounded by miles of cornfields. I was determined to make
something of myself in the field of the arts. Being an outside for most of my
youth instilled me with the dire need of having something to prove to the
world.
After visiting various colleges and universities, I
found myself most in kin with the Columbus College of Art and Design in
Columbus, OH, two hours east of where I lived. After graduation and in the fall
of 1995, I began classes at this premiere art school with a major in Media
Studies. Though I had never used a video camera or done any sort of animation,
I felt compelled to by my passions and enthusiasm to make something of myself
as a media artist. Through my years at CCAD, I found myself focusing and
eventually excelling in video, computer animation, and interactive design. It
was during my senior year that I made the fateful decision that my career path
would be in teaching. This wasn't too hard of a decision to make since I came
from a family of teachers with my parents both being high school teachers and
my two older sisters being teachers. I also felt that my creativity wasn't a
good match for Hollywood that insisted on recycling their own ideas rather than
come up with something fresh and exciting. I also felt that with teaching I
could still do my own personal projects and freelance work while sustaining
myself with my teaching income.
My decision to teach then led me to seeking out
graduate school. After a couple of rejections at my first two choices, I got
lucky upon discovering the Center for Electronic Communication at Florida
Atlantic University in Ft. Lauderdale. This former research facility in
computer graphics had just opened up a new graduate program and I was fortunate
enough to be one of the first students to be accepted into the program. So
after my graduation from CCAD in May of 1998 (I had a year's worth of transfer
credits since I took part in the Post-Secondary program where I took college
classes during my senior year), I moved to southern Florida to start my
graduate studies in August 1998. I thought my work load was crazy heavy at
CCAD. Graduate school was a whole new ballgame. I quickly found myself working
upwards to 80-100 hours per week to become as good as I could be as a computer
artist working in computer animation and digital video. It took me about a year
to gain enough confidence with the Maya 3D software. It was a great challenge
to juggle the creative "right-brain" side of my brain with the
analytical "left-brain" side of my brain. But once I did, I found
myself able to express myself with a whole new artistic freedom. And what
pushed me forward was my continued passion for expressing myself and for the
medium I was working in.
During my second year of graduate studies, I was
fortunate enough to be selected to become a teaching assistant and help teach
undergraduate classes in teaching 3D computer modeling and animation. It was a
huge leap forward for me in terms of gaining teaching experience and overcoming
my own shyness and introverted personality! Then during my last semester, I
gained the rank of associate professor and taught a class fully by myself. Talk
about trial by fire. Yet still, I managed to take what I've learned, organize
and articulate, and learn how to communicate it effectively and patiently! All
the while I was teaching, I was working incredible hours finishing up my
year-long senior thesis computer art animation project, "Life Forms".
Eventually, I completed my graduate studies in May of
2000. In an incredible amount of luck, I was offered a teaching position at the
Center for Electronic Communication since a position was available. So
therefore, I didn't have to move upon graduation. I suddenly went from student
to Research Assistant where I continued to teach classes, work in the Center,
and help out the graduate students with their projects. All the while, I
fulfilled my objective of finding a job where I was working while still
remaining true to myself, my goals, dreams, and visions. I could still use the
technology around me at the Center to keep working on my own personal computer
art projects and becoming an even better artist. In 2000 and 2001, I sent my
work out to various festivals. My work managed to get into a few and "Life
Forms" won a Telly Award in 2001. Then in May of 2001, I gained the rank
of Assistant Professor. I went on to teach a fulltime load of class: 3D
Modeling, 3D Computer Animation, and Digital Compositing.
Then things took a turn for the worse. Just as things
seemed to be going so well, 9/11 happened. Though the devastating events of
that day happened hundreds of miles away, the aftershocks of that day continued
to have an economic impact across the nation, especially in Florida. People
stopped flying and tourism in Florida took a huge hit. State tax revenue from
tourism was one of the main financial contributors to state universities. So
once tourism plummeted, the university budgets were frozen and heavily cut
back. So by the end of the year, I was informed that my job position would not
be continued after my contract was up in May of 2002. I was shocked.
Yet as fate and good timing would have it, I had
received an email two months prior from Ron Saks, the then chair of the Media
Studies department at CCAD. He was informing me that there would be two new
fulltime teaching positions added to the Media Studies department in the fall
of 2002. So upon learning that my days were numbered at FAU, I quickly got my
demo reel together and sent it in to CCAD. After several months of waiting, I found
out in April 2002 that I was accepted into one of those two positions at CCAD.
I had lucked out with good timing and fortunate contacts!
So in May of 2002, I moved back to Columbus, OH and
began teaching fulltime in the fall semester of 2002. Happy with a more private
school art college environment, I've continued teaching at CCAD ever since. I
went on to teach a wide variety of classes: Computer Animation I, Video I,
Video II, Video III, Motion Graphics, and Advanced Time-Based Projects. The
best part of teaching is helping other people, passing on some valuable
knowledge, and being around fellow creative human beings. There are days where
I can't help but be thankful for the route I took with my life. And all the
while, I kept making videos and animations that I wanted to see and make. I
kept my complete creative freedom and my soul in tack.
Yet that didn't mean I turn down good freelance
projects when they come around. The main source of freelance work came in
documentary work. The most prominent project I worked
on was a grant-funded documentary "Treasures of the Hocking Hills” (2004)
about artists in the southeastern side of Ohio. I was a one-man moviemaking
crew where I worked as director, videographer, and editor for 41-minute
documentary. Other prominent projects was the 19-minute documentary "David
Hostetler: Artist In Nature”, which expanded upon the footage shot from the
"Treasures…" project. I also worked as a videographer/ editor for a
75-minute video deposition documentary, "Peggy’s Story”, involving a
junior high teacher who was involved in a horrible car accident. After that, I
worked on several smaller video freelance opportunities that came my way,
including a video piece for the Hocking Hills Tourism Association. I also had a stint as a music video director and
documentarian in 2001-2002 for Atom Troy for Sony Records when I was down in
South Florida.
For my own personal video/ animation projects, I
continued to passionately work. "Western
Heavens on Earth" (2006) was a 1 1/2 hour documentary about
some of American West's greatest National Parks (Yellowstone, Badlands). "Comic Book Culture" (2008) was a 40
minute documentary examination of the comic book
allure of someone who seeks new ideas, imagination, and creativity. In addition
for over a decade, I continued to make personal art pieces - experimental video
and animation to various documentary shorts. I continued to force myself to
challenge myself to discovering something new about myself through my art while
excelling my own skills with the software that I teach with.
My other main passions have been
digital photography and writing, two areas of my life that I am constantly
taking part in. There has not been a day since 1993 that I didn't do some
degree of journal/ creative writing. It has been my main outlet for most of my
adult life. Music, movies, and comics have been additional sources of artistic
fuel for me that keep me being creative, expressing myself, and finding my way
through life.
I also managed to find my
"soul mate" in my life through my wife Lisa that I met in late summer
of 2006. By July of 2008, we married and bought a house in Dublin, Ohio. She
has been a "grounding" force to my life who continues to keep me
"realistic" while keeping me positive. I credit her with giving me a
stability to my life that I've always craved. Though she'd laugh at the
comment, she's a real angel.
So that's my life summed up. I
hope you enjoyed it. It's had plenty of high and low points, but I've continued
on. I've struggled, succeeded, failed, but still continued on. If you're
interested in my life and learning things in much greater detail, I've worked
on a few extremely comprehensively written personal essays. "The Empathy
Files" details what artists, musicians, movie directors, and various
others have influenced and inspired me throughout my life. "Portrait of an
Introspective Digital Artist" provides an extremely honest and candid look
into my personal journey as an artist through exerts from my journals
throughout the years. For more examples of my art, go to www.erichoman.com. Thanks
for reading!
Eric Homan
A Mini-Snapshot of My Life
1-19-02:
I’m just a guy who works a great deal on computers on digital artwork and
journal writing. You can see how much work I’ve done and notice that I
obviously don’t go out regularly, date much, party much, or live an extroverted
life. If you ever have a conversation with me, you will realize by my vast
movie knowledge that I spend my free time to watch good movies. If you’ve
visited my apartment, you will notice how obsessive I am about music and how I
use it as a fuel to do creative artwork for years. If you spend a month with
me, you would know how many migraines I have to live with.
Examples of My Computer Artwork
Describing
the content my artwork, I would explain my pieces as Surrealism mixed with
Expressionism with touches of Dadaism for humor. A friend of mine eloquently
labeled me “The ‘Vincent van Dali’ of Computer Art”, which I liked. My pieces
vary from 3D animated haiku visual poems (“Life Forms”) to an interactive
experience piece (“Vincent van Gogh Working at McDonald’s”) to abstract 3D animated
paintings visualizing elemental intercourse (“Rainbow Twister Sex”).
My Personal Expression
This
written artistic statement pretty much sums up the majority of what there is to
know about me and why I create art. I wrote down the following because I have
an overwhelming amount to express about a tremendous number of artistic and
technological topics. I specifically wrote down what I feel because I can’t verbalize it coherently and fully. It’s
simply too much information and emotion. I needed the time to be inspired to
record it into words and present it as a paper or art piece. I needed to
coordinate and organize my ideas before I can fully express myself. When I do
speak in public, I usually stutter or mutter my words because I’m trying to
express dozens of ideas and feelings at once! What it all comes down to is that
I make art out of passionate self-expression - nothing more. Not for money, not
for women, not for fame. I desire to communicate who I am so people will feel
what I’ve felt. The following writings are a testament to who I am as an
individual artist.
The
following honest explanations are my way of spelling
out why I’ve acted the way I have and chosen the route of “artist”. Writing it
all down, I can reach more than one person so I don’t have to explain myself
all over again and use up more time and energy. Besides I can express myself
better through writing than I can through on the spot speaking it. It’s also my
therapy for myself. It’s for others to understand me better so they won’t feel
confused about me. Writing all of this is like confession. I was forced to
examine myself and strip down my guard to let my soul breathe.
Asserting
My Hidden Inner Voice
4-24-05: I have come to realize that I don’t always
have much to say out loud in public. I’m an introspective thinker that ponders
and dreams on one’s existence and the life surrounding myself. So I finally
asset myself fully and roundly when it comes to writing. I need that moment of
reflection and quiet to analyze and take notes of what’s around me in order to
have something meaningful and enlightening to share with others. This is how I
best communicate. I write from my own life experience. I write from the movies
I watch or about the music I listen to. I write from the (night and day) dreams
I have. I write from my hurricane imagination. These are my passions. So it’s a
grand irony when people find me boring on some occasions when they are out and
about with me. I am usually quiet and reserved, unless stirred with charismatic
conversation or inspiration. Strangers and casual observers find me almost
shallow and withdrawn. But this is not the case. They see a silent surface
without witnessing the deeper, hidden content within. I do not thrive in a
crowded social environment. I am a dreamer, and I work best in times of peace
and quiet. I feel the most free when I am in nature, and that probably speaks
volumes. So here are the thoughts boiling inside my brain. My mind is always
active, though I do get tired when overstimulated or overwhelmed by my
surroundings. Give me space and give me time to pour my heart and emotions and
opinions on.
My Artistic Turning Point
“We
have all been changed by our tragedies.” –from the comic book Justice #12.
It
was an unexpected date to be a turning point: October 12, 1996 – Columbus Day.
It happened to be the worst date of my young adult life that involved the
ultimate tragic surrealism: this was the day that my mother was killed in a car
accident. It became the defining moment in the development of my life and for
my artwork. From that moment on, my art steered into being more
self-expressive, personal, and introspective instead of commercial, shallow,
and superficial. This devastating trauma at my young adult age of twenty simply
altered my artwork to have a more personal, deeper meaning. My mom had always
personified all that was good and kind in my life. Realizing that some driver
who was driving too fast had senselessly killed her, I had to reexamine my
chaotic feelings in order to survive my overwhelming grief. Art was my main
lifeguard, my saving grace, my spiritual salvation.
In
order to fully understand the insanity of this event, you have to know what
type of a woman my mother was. My mom was extremely polite, innocent,
kind, sweet, generous, supportive, cheerful, always smiling, and deeply
religious in her Catholicism. To have such a positive existence destroyed so
senselessly, and on a day when she was on the way home from doing volunteer
work when some @sshole was passing two other cars over a hill in no-pass lane
was the key to unleashing the madness to this life. It was too devastating and
numbing at the same time. I couldn’t decide to cry or chock up. I had to find
something to hold onto to save myself. Creating art was my release.
I recall during the end of my mother’s viewing before
the funeral ceremony that my two sisters, my mother’s two sisters, my father,
and myself were allowed to have several minutes alone beside our mother before
they permanently closed the casket. At my mother’s casket, I made a private
prayer/ oath that I’d make her proud and I wouldn’t let her down. I’d
make something good of myself... that I’d never give up... that I’d do my very
best. It was overwhelmingly
intense proclamation of my dedication to becoming a great artist instead
of a good artist. It was the start of an obsessive quest for pride and
glory. There was an almost delusional intensity to my promise. At my most
vulnerable and emotional, I endearingly declared to make something of my life
instead of an average anybody. And so began my odyssey of working harder and focusing myself
completely on fulfilling this renewed obsession with becoming great –
something I’ve felt deep down inside of myself since I was a boy. I had to make
something of myself. I had to work hard… and dream harder than the rest.
Her
death woke up my emotions to express them in artistic means. It was also during
this experience that I sensed my artistic styles. Surrealism and Expressionism
was discovering that your mother is dead and the world goes on just as if
nothing tragic had happened to anybody else. Life’s state of insanity had to
hit home in order to provoke me to feel deeper and find harmony to my life
through doing art. Though great movies and art had always stimulated immense
emotion out of me (i.e., Schindler’s List and van Gogh’s “The Crows”),
they usually didn’t last with me. Her
death did. With my emotional barriers
open and raw, I couldn’t help but release my feelings. Her death defined where
my artwork would go: into a strongly emotional, introspective direction instead
of a commercial path. With too many questions conflicting me, I had to find
answers - so I created them in my art. Indeed, art dulled the pain of my
mother’s death. As a result, I filled myself with peace by creating art.
Instead of seeing a psychiatrist, I decided to talk through my art.
“It’s
only after you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do everything.” -a
line of dialogue from the film Fight Club.
This
change in artistic tide could best be exemplified through a storyboard piece I
did weeks after my mother’s death. The raw and brutal visuals and emotions in
“The Falls” shows how much anguish I had that needed to be released -
immediately.
Coincidentally,
I later read up and found out that some of my personal favorite musicians had
also lost their mothers in car-related accidents when they were a young,
impressionable age: John Lennon, Bono, Sinead O’ Connor….
“Eulogy for My
Mother”
7-11-02: (Or the sermon I
would have given at her funeral service): “As you have seen already, us
children of my recently departed mother have taken part in the service of this
funeral mass. Lara gave the First
(I’m
not sure if I did a good job. I only managed to express about 10% of what I
originally wanted to say.)
Going through the sudden death of a loved one is
perhaps one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. The death of my
mother made me emotionally dead from delirium off and on for several months. I
would cry hysterically some days to myself in my bedroom during the weeks after
the tragedy. The melancholy insanity would hit me at anytime. I remember having
to hold back from breaking down while in class, in a school hallway, on the way
back to my apartment, or at church. It was a terrifying time to be alive
because I wasn’t sure when the pain would fade away. It’s amazing how I managed
to keep myself together through the cathartic artwork I made while I was a
student at an art school. I survived. I never completely fell apart. I
always had the work to get me motivated to have something to put my
mind, emotions, and talent to. It saved my life from emotional implosion.
Continuing Anguish and Questions for My Mother's Death
2-1-99: I still can’t
comprehend how my mom died in that car accident. She was sitting behind the
driver with her seat belt on in a large van. Why was her head and arms so
bruised? For her wake at the funeral home, they tried to put layers of make-up
on her to hide the hues of blue and purple, but one could still see how hard
the blow must have been. My mother was love. There she was bruised… and
perished.
And so I have to ask
myself: “How much of me died with mom’s
death?” After a few months, it was good to have some emotional breakdowns
and cries to release the anguish inside. It was the only way to expel the sheer
insanity that was welled up inside of me. To cry until one’s eyes burn. To
scream until you can’t any more. To live with the reality... it could sometimes
be too much to bear.
Memories of My Mother
6-12-02: I was
scanning through several hundred family photos tonight when I came across
images of my mom. To my subtle shock, I realized I didn’t know her anymore. She
had faded from my memory. She also isn’t in many photographs since she was
usually the one who was taking all the pictures. I listened to a recording of
her on a cassette tape. The final part where she is recounting her life as of
present and of the future haunts me to this day: “At present, I am 55 years old
and I plan to retire in three years. I don’t really have any plans when I
retire – but I do pray that God will lead me to do whatever work he wants me to
do.” She was tragically killed in a car accident four years later.
I Should Be Dead
6-23-01: After
reading through my journals, I discovered that Mom had invited Phyllis and I to
come along with her to King’s
I’m dead in a
separate reality.
These Very Words
Should Not Exist
5-15-02: I
nearly died on several occasions in my life. One, my mother asked me if my then
girlfriend and I wanted to come along with her to King’s
Living with the
Knowledge that I Should Be Dead
4-27-04:
I later realized that I was supposed to have
gone down to King’s
Sometimes, I start to deeply wonder how I
ever managed to get into movies, comic books, and van Gogh because I never had
anyone in my youth who inspired me to relish these things. Somehow, my
curiosity led me to the library or a bookstore where I discovered them. I
sought out these places because I was bored by my surroundings in a small town
(sports, parties with beer, high school). Logically, I should have gone to a
“normal” college majoring in education because that was what my parents and
sisters did. Were all those years of teasing and rejections so upsetting that I
didn't want to take part in their world anymore? I had to find a route through
dreams in order to escape from normalcy and to become a better person.
I
have been asked one singular question in regards to my artwork and writing that
I’ve created throughout the years: “So what is this for?” In no simpler terms, I had something to
express and I expressed it. I had the time and I used it. I existed so I expressed
it. It was that simple. I rose up to the challenge of making a mark on society
by producing original thoughts, self-expressions, personal visions, and
creative insights. I didn’t want to go through life without having something to
say. (I appear all too shy in ordinary appearance, but I was flooding up inside
with something close to art to get out of me.) I had an artistic oasis inside
my brain that I needed to bath in. Dreams were the gold and diamonds of life.
Out of an unkind desperation, I had to express myself. I had no choice. Most dreams are born out of desperation. Or else why dream?
Maybe crazy dreams are what keep us sane. So I suppose I made all this artwork that took me literally thousands
upon thousands of hours to do for myself… with the hope that others would
relate to it as well. Hell, everyone has dreams.
I just wanted to be someone with something to contribute.
If
anyone ever asks me why I do art, I will respond with this: “I feel the most
alive when I am being creatively active. That is when I feel the greatest joy
and ecstasy.” Some critics might call this “getting high off of dreams
instead of off drugs”. Yes, they are correct.
Art as “Entertainment” Therapy
Because
art is an aesthetic medium and can emotionally move and please a wide range of
people, art is “entertainment” therapy. Art could convey a message or emotional
reaction while others experience and “enjoy” it. In the end, the art became
therapy for the artist and the audience as well, in relation to how much they
empathize. I
became an art psychiatrist. I usually create art to define who I was as a human being at
a certain time in my life. It’s always quite an experience to look back and see
who I was in years gone by. How rewarding to explore myself and possibly help others
through the creative process.
“Artist’s Statement”: A Universal Personal
Art Experience
3-22-02: My art is a personal experience because
life is a universal personal
experience. For example, everyone can remember where they were when they heard
the news when John Kennedy was shot, or when the Challenger exploded, or when
the
“Empathy Art”
I
describe my work as being art made for the viewer’s empathy, understanding, and
catharsis: a self-exploration that occurs in the art and is transmuted into the
viewer. The ingredient that makes this art empathetic is that the work has to
be sincere, in quality and emotion, for others to feel, relate, and react to.
My pieces were created out of conflicted emotions (pain and happiness, ecstasy
and numbness, imagination and mediocrity, self-discovery and repression) in
order to find emotional resolution in my life and work. I will not deny the
sense of anguish in most of my pieces - but I feel that it is hurt that needs to be addressed, released, and resolved through
an artistic process in order to arrive with a greater aesthetic whole. Art
helps us re-calibrate our perspective on life as well as enrich our lives with
meaning. Sometimes it takes a cathartic piece of self-expression to sharpen our
senses and retune our imagination. What I’ve expressed was of honest beauty (or
repulsive honesty, depending on one’s point of view). The results were, for me,
a body of artwork through which I am giving back the emotions, fantasy, and
reality that I have lived through to the world. The content tended to be
surreal and expressionist - but that was
what I experienced out of living. It was honesty, not fantasy that I was
recording.
Dealing with Feelings
7-27-99: Art,
for me, is dealing with feelings. Instead of building up emotions to the point
of self-destruction, we can release ourselves and grow from the experience of
revealing ourselves. And through this cathartic experience, one can help others
understand themselves.
The
Collective Experience
I want my art to touch the vulnerability in all of us
so we can all feel that vulnerability together. It’s a collective experience.
We’re all sensitive, vulnerable human beings no matter who you are. We have
feelings. So let’s touch them through art.
Some Family and Personal Background
To understand my artwork better, you need to know part of
the history of my past and where I came from. I grew up in a heavily religious
family in
There was a point during the fifth grade when I became a
sensitive human being. I was getting teased and harassed like crazy for being
different. I liked two girls in my class and being mocked in front of them
devastated me on a daily basis. At home, I would be cruel and tease my older
sister Tanya for being “fat” and overweight when we got into a fight. I was
just venting my frustrations upon someone else. Well, the teasing I was getting
at school started to show too deeply from my increasingly withdrawn and erratic
behavior. I was desperate for the cruelty against me to stop so those girls
might like me. My mother went to see my teacher to see what could be done about
stopping the psychological terror on me. When my mom came home to report about
their meeting, she disclosed that I had teased one of my classmates in the
classroom who was also one of my few friends. At that moment of truth and
revelation, I sunk into an abyss of guilt that I was part of the problem. I was
degrading other people just as those bullies were doing to me. I wasn’t any
better than them. It was at that moment that I realized my actions and decided
I had to change for the better. That was the spark that started my sensitivity.
I Am
a Powerless Super-Hero, But an Empowered Artist
Ever since I was a young boy getting picked on at school,
I’ve been obsessed about becoming a superhero. The cruel reality was that I
didn’t have any super powers in order to help defend myself and impress the
girls. So I had to make one for myself. So I took on the guise of “Artist” with
creativity as my super power. But since my artwork ended up being about
personal expression and conflicted emotions, I turned into an anti-hero instead
of a hero.
My Adolescent Turning
Point
From my journal (3-2-94):
March 2nd,
1990: the monumental date that marks the biggest turning point in my life while
I was growing up… ever. It was the day I was caught forging my
mother’s signature and found myself personally humiliated before my class. I
was used to other people embarrassing and teasing me. This time, it was from
me. And so, I had a minor, little breakdown. I cried while desperately trying
to hold back the tears. I realized that my hard fought life wouldn’t be worth a
cent if I didn’t start to change. Fortunately, I did make a
change in my life… starting on that day. Making that decision was a crucial moment where I had to choose to
be “good” or “bad”. That is why I have always considered it one of the most
prominent moments in my life.
At that time in my life, I was
hanging out with the outcast crowd of loser kids in seventh grade who were
about a year away from going bad.
I enjoyed the freedom they offered, especially during lunch when we’d leave the
school and walk to the local grocery store with the other “rebel” kids and eat
junk food. Then instead of playing basketball with all the other kids, we’d
hide out by a corner school heater until fifth period class started. The
empathic friend I hung out with, Cory Eichen, who was sort of like my alternate
reality version of myself if I didn’t shape up, would later truly go
“bad” by sexually assaulting a girl three years later and soon dropping out of
school from too many school suspensions. He didn’t find any point to going to a
school where your peers degraded and destroyed you. He was a casualty of the
teasing us “geeks” received. I understood.
From my Journals: 1-5-94
Cory Eichen: a past, good friend of mine from 7th grade who
has completely (pardon my English) fucked up his life. Of course, our
classmates and bullies had something to do with it. You see, we were
very much alike back in the 7th grade. Both of us had countless
problems and were equally harassed. We found comfort in each other’s company
after lunch by hanging out in a secluded corner of the hallway. Yet somehow, I
strayed off on to the best path possible for myself while Cory kept to himself
and remained getting teased on the way to Juttes grocery store, which only led
to fights. I believe that teasing made him lose control of his life. You can
either get better or worse when you get to the end of the line. You have to
make a decision. We lived parallel lives until that point of decision and no
return. I choose the hard, longer path by shaping up, working harder on my
studies, and “ignoring” the teasing and people who wanted to “fight me”. Cory
choose the regular, same old path. God, some days I wish I could have helped
him. But now it’s too late. He probably will serve time in prison (maybe for
life) now that’s he’s gone out and nearly raped a girl/ his “girlfriend”. Maybe
one day he’ll do himself in and do something worse and find himself receiving
the death penalty (let alone suicide). Time will tell its secrets. It’s only a
matter of time.
1-13-94 By the way, Cory
Eichen was so wrong and so right. He took on the evils of life and got caught.
He “absorbed” the evil that was around him, all the teasing that people did to
him, and became it.
And through the years, I strayed away
from the public crowd of irrelevance and went on my own path for personal
success.
Now, here I am, a successful student,
worker, friend, and “visionary”. Who ever said patience is a key to a fine
future must have been right. I am a successful person. Now that I can’t believe
especially when I’ve grown up to be a young man. Unbelievable.
One of my earliest goals for an ideal career choice for me was to be a Disney Imagineer who designed theme park attractions. The Disney parks and the other roller coaster parks enchanted me. It was like escaping reality by entering a fantasy place on earth. That was the childlike awe attraction. As a self-proficient dreamer, I felt I could contribute to creating my own physical dreams. When I was in the fourth grade, I would construct highly detailed miniature cardboard amusement parks, complete with pizza concession stands. I drew out wildly exciting designs for a new Disney water park. One segment took place on a pirate ship where you could walk the plank and dive into the crystal clear water that was filled with exotic fish and gorgeous (fake) coral. Mermaids would swim by and blow kisses at you.
One
of my earliest ambitions as a young boy for a possible career when I grew up
was to be a great explorer. As I grew up through elementary school, I sadly
realized that 99.99% of earth has already been discovered. I had been born too
late to discover
4-25-04: I recall back to the eighth grade for me and
how I was seeing the light red-haired school guidance consoler, Earl
Klosterman, who was a school acquaintance of my father’s. I went to see him
twice a week to talk to him about my “problems”. I mainly talked about how I
had low self-esteem from getting teased and how nervous I was about having
girls like me. He encouraged me to do something that would make my peers
respect me and get the attention of the opposite sex: do well in sports. Since
this was a small town in Midwest
I grew up in a hometown where
winning in sports was how you became popular or “the man of the hour”. People
would work so hard on being good in sports to feel good. I rarely had athletic
abilities and would usually lose horribly to the point where it made me look
absurd. Eventually, I started having fun with the ridiculousness, not care
anymore about even trying to win, and have fun with how surrealistically bad I
was. I recall going bowling for Phy. Ed. And bowling a score of 31 with over a
dozen gutter balls. Meanwhile, my classmates and peers were bowling and
bragging about their high scores. It was a way of getting attention… especially
of girls and how they were always attracted to the sports stars. I figured I
could brag about how pointless sporting events were by playing wildly poorly. I
learned hard about the stupidity of competitiveness. I lived through twelve
years of this insanity. I’d rather be doing something meaningful with
expressing myself through my art and intellect – not with physical activities
or a touchdown. The pain and anguish I continuously was subjected to fueled my
obsessive desire to distinguish myself through creating great art. Creativity
was my special ability that I knew how to win with. The canvas was my
playfield. Yet there wasn’t any audience for people to see my skills. It was a
sports town and the arts were barely supported, let alone encouraged. Life in a
small
I
struggled socially throughout my twelve years in school. I was an obedient
teenager and devout Christian. Yet something inside me felt a desperate need to
rebel and escape my strict religious upbringing. Moreover, I was working as a
janitor during my high school years. All I could do was dream obsessively about
leaving my hometown where sports were endorsed and the arts were shunned. When
I got to art school at the Columbus College of Art and Design in
My Sporting Event Is
The Creative Arts
4-7-03: So I wasn’t good at sports, here’s something
I am good at: computer and creative arts. Doing art became my sporting
events. It's the creative arts, after all.
Being Different in a
From the small
town hometown where I came from, there were so many things that would make you
into an outcast. If you didn’t go to a bible study, you were looked upon
differently and seen as an outcast. If you didn’t like sports or go to sporting
events, you were seen as suspicious. If you didn’t attend church regularly, you
were seen as strange. In a town where everyone knows who the other person is,
it is impossible to remain anonymous and without looking down upon if you are
different. This is where cities were so strangely refreshing with their
isolation and diversity. People just didn’t care if you didn’t go to church.
There’s so many others who don’t that it didn’t matter. If your majority is
suddenly a minority in a city, they don’t look down on others so much. But in a
small town where the community is definitely the majority, you can feel
extremely isolated and alienated by being yourself – different.
Much of my art emerged from no-hope environments that
I grew up in. Growing up in a small town forces you to dream big. I became a
quintessential small town dreamer. Graduating from an art school forces you to
experiment and do anything. Not getting through to girls or your family forces
you to work even harder on your artwork to get them to notice you. I had
nothing to lose by creating the artwork I did with the feelings I possessed. I
wanted my work to have an interactive catharsis to it that the viewer could
experience. It would be one glorious universal breakdown of emotion through
chromatic visual urgency.
There is something about small towns that are
innocent at heart. They are so removed from the speed and complication of big
cities. Growing up in one clearly shaped up I ended up as. I remember my mother
warning me about how corrupting moving to the city might be for me. I’d be
exposed to things that I normally wouldn’t be in a small town where drugs don’t
exist. No abortions. No crime. People don’t lock their doors. There is
something about the impersonal feeling of city life that can make you feel like
you’re rotting from the inside with loneliness and isolation. In a small town,
you’ve got a community of people looking out for you. In a city, you’ve got
yourself and a small band of people who you might call friends. In a small town
there is only one religion – a Christian religion. In the city, you’re
bombarded with a buffet of religious options and possibilities – even none at
all if you like. In a small town, you’ve got quiet and boredom. In the city,
you’ve got noise and activity. They’ve both got their faults and imperfections.
Some can’t stand either of them. In a small town, it’s a perfect area to raise
children. In a city, you can make more money. In a small town, you can keep
your home and car unlocked without worrying if anyone will break in. In the
city, you’re always double-checking if the doors are locked and secure. In a
small town, you trust your neighbors. In a city, you don’t know who your
neighbors are. In a small town, you’ve got only one ethnicity. In the city,
you’ve got dozens. In a small town, no one is gay, bisexual, or even
“bi-curious”. People even wait until marriage to have sex. It’s like a whole
world stuck in a good-natured, 1950s past. They’re so outside of what’s happening
that they never quite catch up. They’re still stuck behind. The one thing that
small towns do have in replacement of drugs is alcohol. Because it’s legal and
cheap, most everyone drinks heartily. Alcoholism is a commonplace development
in a small town world with nothing to do. It breaks the idyllic world of small
town life. But in the city, things are just that much more complicated by
having too many people around that aren’t quite the same, that don’t speak the
same languages, make the same general income, or have the same religious
practices. In a small town, at least you can relate to those around you by
default since they’re your same ethnic, religious, and economic background.
Most everyone is middle-class in a small town with a few lower-income and
higher-income families. But otherwise, everyone is humbly on the same level. In
a city, you’re surrounded and overwhelmed by the diversity. At times, it is
extremely refreshing, yet also suffocating. There are sometimes too many
differences. To go from a world where everyone is heterosexual to suddenly
encounter homosexuals can be an extremely surreal experience. To go from
Caucasian to African-American, Latino, Asian, let alone Texan! It’s like the
world went upside down if you come from a small town that you’ve rarely ever
left and explored the outside world. You’ve always felt secluded and isolated,
surrounded by corn fields and farmlands for hundreds of miles. I’m not saying
that small towns are perfect, but they are guarded from aspects of urban life
that can corrode one’s self through the years. Imagine a world without crime,
drugs, racism, or deceit. Small towns uphold more central family values than
anywhere else. Being removed from speed and slowing life down can make you see
the world in a more peaceful, calmer point of view. And yet many people who
live in small towns dream of being in the city for more things to do… to have
more fun. The scent of pig manure can get to one after a while. Things in the
big city are much more confusing. And out of the confusion brings stress,
anguish, depression, and exhaustion. It can cloud your better judgments and
spoil your innocence.
Escaping Small Town
Life
6-22-02: In my
’94 journals, I was even describing the first signs of personal torment of
being introverted and creative in a small town social and athletic community. I
obsessed so deeply to get out of that community by any means necessary. If I stayed, I would have died. If I had to
work hard and spend dozens of hours each week on my artwork and drawing skills,
I would. Sacrificing my social life, family, and friends was somewhat easier
since I wasn’t much of a conversationalist. I never felt like I was fitting in
to that world. I only knew I had to get out. All the pranks, teasing,
and crank calls my family was getting was driving me insane. I had to escape
into something. So I dove into art.
High School Revenge Fantasies
6-27-02: While writing out my December ’93 journals, I came
across a dark fantasy where I wanted to kill dozens of my classmates who teased
me every day, and then kill myself while leaving a suicide “explanation” note.
I was stunned that I had explicitly written something like this six years
before Columbine occurred. Yet I believe I certainly wasn’t the only “angry and
frustrated outcast” who has had such a revenge fantasy against bullies. In
fact, what "outcast" hasn't had such feelings in high school? I
believe expressing it actually helped
me by releasing my bent up, hurt, despairing feelings. Such feelings and
fantasies should be revealed and exposed as art so that other people can
realize they’re not alone in having such “natural” feelings. Otherwise, if you
bottle up all those repressed feelings and emotions, they come out as actual
physical violence that is so senseless, so harmful, and so very wrong. I knew
that back then and I know it now. But I won't deny I had those feelings. I was
provoked by daily taunting and teasing. It was merciless. It was unforgiving.
It was scarring. And what these people did to me was deeply wrong.
A Hometown Without Ambition Beyond Babymakin'
1-10-02:
In my hometown, many of the housewives were babysitters during the day while
their husbands were off at work. If they had children, they were simply
housewives. It is an unambitious community - an almost perfect community to
raise children in middle-class households. Yet, where is their ambition to do
something more? Is raising kids the
summit of their lives? Is that all?
On break from graduate school, I found myself in blissful Yellow
Springs, Ohio, my idealized small town full of alternative art teens and
college students, a new age book store and art house movie theater, a comic
book store and coffee house, even a traditional "Dairyland" ice cream
joint and small town park. Lorna and I went to a main street tavern where we
ordered some beers and spaghetti. I was in my
After the jubilation of being in Yellow Springs with so many artists in
a small town, I was wrecked with isolation by being with my dad and sisters for
the next two days. When I'm around them, I end up seeming "eccentric"
and, worse, "nutty". I'll make a surreal, warped joke and none of
them makes a sound. If I made the same joke to Justin or Eddie, he'd laugh
hysterically. I feel miscast at my own family table. The conflict of
personality only tired me to the point of depression.
For me while growing up, the movies were such a
magical experience for transporting me to places I’d never seen, experienced,
or been to. I grew up in a small town in Midwest
The Boredom of Small
Town Life Made Me
3-20-03:
The reason I became eccentric was because I grew
up in a small town where nothing much
happened. I couldn’t stand the boredom, so I developed a hyperactive
imagination. And by living in that fantasy world, it made me unusual.
Eccentricity simply made my life more interesting from my perspective. Even if
it did make me look like an outcast, my life has been filled with near non-stop
creative excitement. In answer to making my life meaningful, I took the
route less traveled.
Choosing Art Over
Athletics
12-30-02: While in high school, I suddenly became
very aware that becoming a great athlete wasn’t going to be something that will
carry through after high school or college. I mean, what do you do with your
life after that? So I gave up on sports after my freshman year in high school
and started concentrating on art, the imagination, movies, music, and other
creative activities. At least these things carry through for the rest of my life. You can be an artist when you're
75 years old. Meanwhile, you reach your athletic peak when you're 19.
No Football for Me
8-11-99: During
July and August in my hometown small town, when you are in junior high and high
school, you spend your time running around at football practice. I decided not
to play on the football team. It didn’t make me all that accepted as I could
have been either because of that decision. Yet in reflection, I’m glad I choose
to get a job. After work, I opted to stay at home with a good movie that inspired
me to think and feel differently rather than go with the flow and be like
everyone else. Yes, I felt such isolation and loneliness. Yet it comes with the
territory of gaining a sense of imagination and emotion.
High School Glory Days?
5-25-02: I remember
during one of the final weeks of my senior year of high school that a classmate
of mine, Steve Castillo, (who used to tease and pick on me in front of our
peers) exclaim aloud in a boasting manner in a class that “These are the best
days of our lives. Right now while we’re seniors.” I felt that was the most
sentimental high school bullshit absurdity I’ve ever heard. Maybe for a
lower-class bully asshole like him, it was very well the best of times. He
didn’t have anything to look forward to. These were his glory years. His years
to stand tall and mighty on fragile, finite ground. As for me, I desperately
yearned to move on, get out of high school and my hometown. Once we all
graduated, I felt a massive sense of release. I knew that for most of my classmates,
their greatness was over – and mine was just beginning. I was free of them and
their sports superiority. Being a jock in high school meant nothing once you
graduated and entered college and the real world. I knew that years ago and
started working towards my ambitions of art, movies, and self-expression. I
decided not to pursue track, football, or any other sport – even though I knew it was the only way to
gain popularity and a girlfriend in the small town I was living in. I got
jobs as an assistant in a carpet cleaning service and as a school custodian to
gain money for college. (It was also an excuse to not rejoin up with the track
team.) I watched my peers achieve and revel in their glory days. Prophetically,
I knew I’d revel in the years to come, patiently waiting and working hard to
achieve my own personal glory through art, teaching, and creativity. The
success repression I experienced during high school helped drive me to work the
obsessively long hours I have throughout the years since I graduated high
school. I had a lot to prove and make up for what I wasn’t able to achieve
during the glory years of high school.
The epilogue and moral of this fable is what do those
jokes, er, I mean jocks have now?
Memories and alcoholism. Personally, I don’t think my glory days are behind me,
right now, or tomorrow. The key is to always keep your ambitions wide open so
that one’s life and inner self keep improving.
Finding My Confidence
and Freedom in College
4-16-03: When I
was a senior in high school, I found my first true sensations of freedom when I
was taking college courses at a local college. It was my first opportunity to
be released from high school and Coldwater. College allowed me a chance to live
beyond the restrictions and dead ends of my hometown. I met new people and
wasn't around the same old group of classmates. I still missed the ones I left
behind. Though I relished the opportunity to be more and expand my horizons. I
think I found my inner confidence by going to Wright State Lake Campus that
senior year of high school. Not only did I get a year's worth of college
education taken care of for almost free by being in the post-secondary program,
I had one less year of having to be in dreadful high school. I had found my
escape.
Gaining My Confidence Up
6-30-02: After finishing the ’93 journals last night, I’ve
started typing out my senior year journal and it’s amazing how different I
became. I was so much more relaxed
and confident. I realized I had a college future while some of my annoying
classmates who used to tease me didn’t. I was even flirting with girls,
which was something I was terrified of doing back in ’93!! During my junior
year, I kept repetitiously writing how depressed I was every day. During my
senior year, I was free and taking college class at
Wanting Girls' Affections in High School
7-1-02: Another realization from typing out my late ’94
journals is how much bitterness and loneliness I felt from being rejected so
many times by the girls I asked out. It was like I’ve been seeking out revenge
ever since then by dedicating myself obsessively to my artwork and writing so
that they will see me as a "great artist" one day and regret that
they didn’t take the leap and go out with me. They’re in their puny lives as
housewives now and without much excitement to their lives. Here I am with my
universe of imagination, creativity, and expressions. One day I wanted them to
feel sorry that they weren’t daring enough or friendlier to me. I want their
respect… and love! But at some point, it really doesn't matter, does it? We
were all so immature and uncertain back then. None of us knew what we wanted. I
suppose I just wish I had more fun back in those teenage years. I could have
used a hand to hold in the very least, let alone a cheek to kiss. (Hey, this
was a time of innocence, darn it!)
Breaking Out from High School
6-16-03:
Yet the odd thing about high school was that my classmates and I were all in
the same boat. We still hadn’t moved off into other courses of life. We were
all kinda stuck in the same classes with practically the same abilities. We
were all stuck in the same small town.
Yet
once we all graduated together, the ties were broken! We were set free to whatever destiny we aspired to achieve.
It’s was the moment where the popular kids stopped being popular anymore. It
was the beginning of when the geeks rose out from the shadows of their bullies
and into their brighter futures and stellar careers. The popular kids can
simply keep telling stories about their glory years in school, of a time long
past.
My Esteemed Peers, the Cheaters
11-22-98:
I remember being in school and my classmates (rich, poor, smart, and stupid)
got copies of tests that were coming up later that day. They impressed their
parents when they got a “CONGRATULATIONS! YOU ARE THE PARENT OF AN HONOR ROLL
STUDENT!” bumper sticker in the mail.
“You did so well!”? Well, ultimately, they flunked a different kind of test that you don’t get in school, but
rather through life: gaining a sense of integrity.
I took those left-brain tests throughout high school even though they took
hours each day to study for and they
had no importance in my right-brained life when my main interests were in art
and creativity. I built up a great deal of anger only to release it through
self-expressive, introspective art.
Grading Average Motivation
11-9-98:
For most of my school life as a student, I’ve gotten a B+ average. Now if I had
gotten an “A+”, I would have believed that I hadn’t been pushed far enough. Yet
still, I feel a resentment and discomfort for sincerely trying my best and
still getting those B+ grades. It is terrifying to a certain extent. I’m not as
good as those “A’s”. Yet by not getting as good of a grade as I wished, it
provoked me to work even harder than
before. I never stopped learning and challenging myself. If I had gained too
many accolades and honors too early on in my life, would I have gained the
ambitions that I have now to “get ahead”?
Evening the Odds
5-4-99: I was one of
those people who was beaten so many times in sports, school, home that I want
to desperately even things out. They teased me to the brink of insanity and I
want to heal myself by working harder and accomplishing more than them. So I
chose art – something they could never do. You have to be a specialist in this
field to get ahead.
Fast Times in Life After High School
The reason life goes so fast after high school was
that I got so much busier. I worked on projects that I actually felt motivated
on doing even though they took up every weekday and weekend morning, afternoon,
evening, and night. More responsibilities took up more of my time. When I was
in high school, all I did was wait for graduation and to leave my small “dead
end for artists” hometown. I wanted so badly to get out that I didn’t mind the
overwhelming ordeal I would experience in the city with so many more problems.
There wasn’t much for me to do or accomplish in high school. Now, all I do is
work and the days just pass.
My
Time-Based Artistic Development
"I hadn't even considered time as a landscape to
paint upon." -From Avengers/
Invaders #12.
1-5-01: Unlike some of my peers and former
classmates, I worked obsessively to get ahead in my art and in work. My family
wasn’t as rich or as socially connected as some people’s families. For my art
portfolio, I had to go to a community college in
I
have to keep working to “make it”, though I don’t know exactly what for. Am I
at some psychological loss from years of unpopularity, romantic rejection,
general boredom, or creative bliss?
My
Hidden
The more I think about, the more I
realize how screwed I was when I got to art school in August 1995. I didn't
have much artistic technical experience, unlike most of my classmates. I knew
I'd have to work extremely hard just to make it through that first foundation
year. Yet I did have one major, major asset that the others may not have
had: I was possessed with the desire and passion to succeed to prove myself to
those who teased me and publicly humiliated me while growing up at school. The
rage and the obsession was just that intense. I was going to make something of
myself and I knew that hunger was what would make me succeed eventually. I mean,
you really have to question how someone could graduate with top honors in Media
Studies without video, animation, or computer experience. I simply worked my
ass off. Every morning, afternoon, evening, and night. Every weekend even. The
fact that I didn't have much of a social life obviously helped as well. But I
made it through art school because I was desperately trying to prove myself. I
had to succeed in something in order to find a reason to continue living. I
couldn't be a failure. And I was willing to burn my life force out in order to
make the grade and the art. It was an extremely intense period in my life. My
life was all about making art. Constantly.
My CCAD Freshman Year
6-15-01: My
undergraduate freshman art school year was basically boot camp for aspiring
artists. Half of my peers dropped out by their first semester of their freshman
year. You have to work on your assignments during every waking moment - including evenings, nights, wee hours in the
mornings, and weekends. I usually went to bed around 1:30 a.m. to 3:30 a.m. and
woke up around 6:45 a.m. Sometimes, you pull an all-nighter and don’t go to
sleep at all. The cafeteria food tasted good the first week since it was all so
new. But after a few weeks of it, the food began to suck from overexposure. The
workload doesn’t let up for four months until a month December holiday break,
and then back again for another four. You constantly have to watch to see if
any of your peers are showing signs of suicidal tendencies... sometimes it’s
even your best friend, your roommate, or yourself.
Keep on Going
9-21-06: You
know, learning how to survive and thrive in this world is harder than just
learning a technical trade. I’ve been re-reading my early ’96 journals when the
winter and cold came and I was left feeling lost and confused with my being in
an in-between world of high school and college. Everything was very new,
different, and uncertain. And with that comes exciting highs… and devastating
lows. I was still hanging out with my old friends from Coldwater. I was still
“living” under the rules and teachings of my parents and family. I was still
going to church and not enjoying myself. I was still in the midst of finding
myself. I was feeling “love” and longing for a shy young introverted workaholic
woman, Phyllis Hornung, who had never had a boyfriend before and sort of
curiously liked me. Reading my words from that fragile time in my life made me
empathize with how my own CCAD students are going through. Your hopes and
dreams are all in the air and you don’t know if they’ll fly forever. And when
they do fall and crash, it devastates
you. That is absolutely the problem with being a dreamer. I know all about the
depression one can go through. But I had to keep going on, live through the
noise and pain, and carry on. I wasn’t a “great” artist back then. I was
struggling and putting in long hours while others were able to whip out their
projects in no time and get “A’s”. It was a sickening environment to be in. I
had to have maximum patience in order to “make it through”.
The Trials and Traumas of Surviving
5-21-06: In May of
1996, I found myself in such a trying period after the completion of that first
year of art school. My whole life revolved around making art, completing
assignments, 12-18 hours each day for the past nine months. Suddenly, it just
all came to an end and I didn’t exactly know what to do with myself. I didn’t
have enough of a social life to catch me when I had to fall back into having a
“normal life”. I did have a girlfriend, my first, and she went back to
And
an even trauma and challenge laid in wait for me with the next semester. Since
I didn’t have many art classes, I had pretty much started at a beginner’s level
during my first year, the foundation year, at CCAD. My next year was for me to
enter my major in Time-Based Media Studies. The thing was I had never used
video, done any animation, or had extensively used a computer before. All I had
a passion for movies and animation. But I didn’t know how to create them! So during the summer in
between semesters I was found myself questioning how I’d do. I knew I’d just
have to work hard to make the grade and do “well”. But it was still a major
question mark. Maybe I’d made a mistake taking on something I wasn’t already
skilled at? Maybe I should have gone into writing as a major since I did so
well at creative writing? Did I make a mistake going to CCAD with getting A’s,
B’s, and C’s, but always feeling so far behind everyone else? So my life ahead
of me wasn’t foretold at all. I wasn’t for certain if I’d make it.
My Identity As a Computer Artist
When
someone asks me who I am, I respond
that I am an independent computer artist. Furthermore, I use the computer to
explore time-based arts, digital three-dimensional environments, and
interactive multi-media as a means of personal expression. Inside each artistic
piece I create, I leave behind a part of myself: my emotions, memories,
imagination, ideas, and dreams. The fortunate thing about personal art is that
its qualities never grow dated or obsolete. They only become richer and more
revealing through age and maturity. As long as there is honesty and real
feeling in the work that others can sense, I feel the work will always last as
long as there are human beings out there who have the empathy and imagination
to feel.
I’m
an artist and a poet, someone who creates meaning
and emotion to this existence through their creativity. That is
one of my roles in society. A role that is under-valued,
under-estimated, and misinterpreted. Artists are the ones who see life, feel
life, create life. In the truest sense of the word, we are all artists –
yet some take their sensitivity a step beyond everyone else. The true artists
are the one’s who feel beyond themselves. They create because they cannot help
but create. They must find meaning to our existence through their own body and
mind.
An Artist’s Audacity
To
have the audacity to create art and express anything is quite astonishing. It
takes guts, bravery, even insanity to dare to be different. To present
emotional truth to the work is an even greater mutiny against society that
cares mainly for commercial art that repeats itself and regurgitates its ideas
to sell/ pimp itself.
Dealing with the
Profundity of Loss
On reflection, I feel that what I struggled with
emotionally the most when I was at CCAD as a student was the sense of loss that
I felt around me. For the entirety of my life, I’d never known of things coming
to an end. I had never experienced my parents getting a divorce. I had grown up
with the same classmates throughout my 12 years of school. So when I was hit by
multiple “deaths” – both literally and figuratively, I was ill-prepared for
them. My mother was killed in a car accident. Then a year later, I experienced
the end of my first “real” relationship. These were very heavy losses for me to
handle. I was just so used to things lasting forever. And graduating from high
school was a half-great, half-sad loss since I really wanted to leave my home
town. Yet I’d also be leaving behind some good friends. But once I got to CCAD,
I made new friends and acquaintances, only to see them end at the end of each
semester. Some of my classmates I didn’t see again. I lost those partnerships.
I had a constant feeling of abandonment. It’s no wonder I found myself becoming
more of a loner and seeking the company of movies and music since I knew these
things wouldn’t leave. Yet I still
had to deal with this human reality that nothing last forever. And it was
through these years that I had to deal with these very scary feelings. I was
only beginning to understand how to accept this profundity of loss.
Would I Be Doing More Commercial Art If My Mother Hadn't
Died?
10-29-01: I contemplated tonight that if my mother hadn’t died and
provoked my artwork to go into a more personal direction, would I have been a
more commercial artist? In some ways, yes; in other ways, I’ve remained a
skilled technical computer artist capable of working in the film industry,
gaming industry, digital video/ TV work, or web design work. My work remains
commercial to a certain degree. Look at my video production work at the Center
for creating festival tapes and M.F.A. Shows. I’ve shown myself to be competent
artistically and professionally. I’ve become a freelance videographer/ DVD
encoder. Due to my own personal demons, I would have done personal artwork
anyway, eventually, to work out my emotions caused by my past family problems
and my future romantic breakups. I would have been driven towards personal art
no matter what.
1-30-04: One of
the hardest things to deal with during my second semester during my senior year
at CCAD is the loss of my creative partner and peer, Justin Jason, who was like
my creative compatriot in the fight for challenging what can be done with
time-based art forms such as computer animation, interactive art, and digital
video. He graduated a whole semester before me and I was left behind to fend
for myself and what my art was about. After several years at art school, we had
both found our voice of what we had to say through our artwork. It was a joyous
time. Yet once he left school, I felt that one of the main creative voices and
supporters I had was silenced. I was left on my own. What made him special was
that we both understood each other's
wildly experimental/ abstract/ surrealistic work. Our work was unique,
different, exciting, and original. Without that fellow artist nearby who could
constructively and intellectually critique my work, I felt rather lost and
alone. Instead, I was left in my classes of peers who were much more
traditional, conservative, and commercial towards creating art. With Justin, we
were both exploring new territory that made us both feel mutually alive. Now the spark was gone and I had
to rely on my own self-confidence in my own work to get me through. The
majority of my fellow classmates offered little to nothing that truly
adventured off into new realms of thought, emotion, or consciousness. Though
Justin and I had only collaborated on one major project together, it was like I
had lost my main partner. It was like John Lennon and Paul McCartney had split
up and now we were left to our own devices of what to make of ourselves. I
managed to keep in touch with Justin, but there's still a void in school that
won't be easily filled. Where there was once an understanding perspective in
the class now lies ten other bodies who just don't get what type of art I'm
doing. There apathy and indifference really hurts me when I feel I'm making
something new, interesting, and exciting. So, I have to carry on.
Now What Do I Do?
1-28-04:
When I was a senior during my first semester, I
was in a panic of what I was going to do with myself when I graduated (just six
or seven months away). My teachers were advising me to look into jobs at
advertising agencies and kids interactive CD-ROM companies. My first traumatic
conquest was simply trying to find the courage and strength to ask my teachers
on what to do with my degree from CCAD. I was in a state of fear and confusion
since I was a creative artist trying to use art as a means of creative release
for an audience as well as myself. Working for a corporation didn’t sound very
appealing as a fit for my personality. I had such a terror inside that I
wouldn’t be able to fit into anywhere. Here I was, a creative genius in my own
eyes, and I was about to be left out on my own – alone in the world. What a
wake-up call to myself!!! I realized it was going to be either sink or swim.
I’d be in incredible trouble if I didn’t get out of the depressive funk I’ve
been in. The possibility of change was exhilarating to me. It was desperation
fueling my emotions. I didn’t know what I was doing. I wasn’t sure if I really
was enthusiastic about being a creative artist and finding myself stuck in
working at doing boring jobs that didn’t leave me feeling fulfilled at the end of the day. According to my personal beliefs,
simply making money in an “art-related” work place wasn’t enough to make me
happy.
Freaking Out
9‑2‑97: Journal entry from late ‘97, eight months before I was going
to graduate from art school and enter the “real world”: I felt my body
grow in tension: I discovered that two crucial trajectories of my
"floating bubbles" computer animation were mysteriously
"dead" after 50 (?) hours of work. After failing to recover the
trajectories, I tried obsessively to rework what I had lost ‑ yet I knew
that I would have to spend 20 additional hours to achieve its former quality.
Then, I noticed my old roommate, Rob Cornell, and many unfamiliar underclassmen
in the Animation I class next door. My memories of being in that class were forever
memories. I discovered that I had a new boss now, Dan Grose, and new co‑workers.
The world had suddenly changed without me.
The world had
suddenly changed without me. Feeling lost and urgent, I asked Kon Petrochuk, my
video teacher, about where I'd be able to get a job. Commercial "video
work" sounded like I'd be abandoning the creativity and self-expression I
had inside that I needed to release. This wasn't a joke or something I could
dismiss. I wanted to talk to someone to release the personal intensity inside.
I wanted someone to hold. My sensitivity was astonishingly frightening. I had
been working myself obsessively on my art only to realize that it didn't matter
once I got out of school. My idealism and innocence faced death. I restlessly
sought to find meaning, and someone to relate to - only to realize the
loneliness I had created for myself for choosing to live with movies and music
instead of friends and family.
I Could Not Deny My Desires
or Bizarre Imagination
9‑5‑97: I regained my confidence and focus on how my art was meant to be: an original self expression of how I saw the world. Why should I even try to fit in when people don't accept me for who I really am? I could not deny my desires or bizarre imagination when it is part of what I'm trying to express about myself.
Judgment
Day for a Control Freak
11‑19‑97: "I need help ‑ I need HELP ‑"
This afternoon, I went into the Interactive Design classroom to work more on my Director project that I had saved on my Zip disk drive. YET IT WOULD NOT OPEN UP. After double-checking it over and over again to see what was happening and pleading with my teacher Tracy Miller to see why it wasn't opening any more, it dawned on me how horrific my reality had become. I lost sixty hours of interactive work to a problem unknown to myself. This was going to be part of my portfolio of work I was working so hard on for graduate school. And I was so close to being done! FUCK ‑ GOD DAMN IT. I punched and kicked the walls. I can't comfort myself. I couldn't even backup my work because the file size of my project was too large. This was absolute craziness. Somehow the computer had fried my file. There was no information for it to open up. This was total insanity. I still had some of the original Photoshop files to work from, but all the coding and animation that I had done was now... gone.
During Motion Picture class and still reeling with wide-eyed despair, Alien 3 was projected huge on a wall, which relaxed me with its existential morality tale. The scent of a classmate's leather jacket filled the air. My senses were on overdrive. I was in a different consciousness without time or deadliness. I felt a stillness to being alive. I felt every living second. It was like my soul and heart were an open wound. I was happy for a while there.
Later after class, I tried to reopen my Director file over again for the eighth and ninth time and begged for someone to help me. Anyone! My emotional temperature was 358°. Friends were staring at my desperation. They could not help. "This is insane!!" I cried as I ran away wild in pain before my peers. The profanity of my confusion was raw and loose. Pity me ‑ oh no. Who_or what can_I_go_to? Words? Profanity? My soul? Art?!
Ultimately
after some hours had passed and I had managed to "cool down", I
thought through my situation, made my decision to accept this insanity, try and
find alternate ways of backing up my work on more than one Zip drive, deal with
my situation wisely and maturely, redo the work I had lost, and departed to
sleep. There was nothing else I could do. This was beyond my control. For a
control freak like myself, this was judgment day. Surviving it was quite
possibly one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. And now I had to deal
with reworking the project that I had now lost. I had to begin again… and work
harder than ever.
Desperate Personality Transformation
1-15-98:
I’ve been working frantically lately – and I know why. I’ve been quite lonely -
emotionally, physically, and artistically. I needed to seek out which ideas
were worth being computer animated as well as simply being. So I spent
half the day experimenting and relearning the mechanics in Maya on an SGI
computer. Restless and hyper with brainstorming, I became discouraged with my
mostly distorted creations. I yearned for someone to inspire me... like my
classmate Justin Jason’s concepts and ideas. Out of my desperation arose an
altered, more aggressive personality unlike my highly shy, passive side. I
started to be vocal and talkative about my feelings, opinions, and perspective.
I was able to express my sense of self.
I wasn’t afraid to converse with others. I had shocked my emotions to wake up. My exterior shy shell was breaking.
I needed to show my confidence and knowledge or else I wouldn’t feel
like I was real. I’ve been so introverted and quiet my whole life that I’m
barely existing. Today I was breaking out.
In
my heart, it all pathetically came down to that I wanted my ex-girlfriend
because I was lonely and I didn’t want to lose her even though we weren’t “in
love” anymore. Realizing how sad that was made me grow up and get over my
foolish hang-ups.
1-15-98:
I realized the urgency I had of life and acted upon it. Yet, I knew I could not
cease the emergency I was feeling. I was too far gone emotionally. I couldn’t
do pieces “that would get me a job”. I had to risk my sanity in order to find
creative bliss. Obsessively preoccupied with making art that matters to me, I
stopped my ability to be sociable – at least for a little while until I acted
like a normal human being again.
Not
Getting Into
3-19-98:
I received a rejection letter from
the San Francisco Institute of Art and my future was instantly altered from it.
Instead of working on my own art, I suddenly realized that I was being forced
to enter the real world. My personality was crushed... humbled. At least, I tried. I wouldn’t have it
any other way.
At
school, I informed a few of my teachers and friends for support and guidance.
Several mentioned that SFIA was more fine arts installation based and Cal Arts
was experimentally commercial - which is more “me”. I’ve never been rejected so
deeply for my dreams especially when my immediate future was involved. I didn’t
get depressed. I maintained my self-control and endured even with the
disappointments.
3-20-98: I had
imagined my graduate school possibilities. Today I received a letter from Cal
Arts - I didn’t get accepted into their school. I had imagined this. My hope
and confidence in being accepted for working hard and creating personal art
experiences was deeply sore. Alas, the disappointment was real. I have to be
realistic and realize what I want with my life. I have to be faithful to my
needs while realizing that my existence needs people and communication. I’ve
been running away for too long.
It’s
taken me a half an hour to write that paragraph. I’m crying inside...
trembling. I’m feeling such loss. I am upset with being an artist among
millions of other artists. I wanted to be
different. I wanted a life of freedom. This is why I am disturbed and
eccentric.
I
called my dad the news and verbally expressed my feelings of discontent.
The
basis of my existence is being productive and doing things that feel significant, worthwhile, and imaginative.
Dad reminded me that, at least, I am financially secure… for a while.
Alas,
alas... being an unrealistic dreamer has finally devastated me. I have expected
too much out of those around me, out of art, out of myself. And my emotions are
still in conflict.
Do I
3-23-98: I worked
constantly - time wasn’t even real to me. I struggled through. I have other
women in my thoughts that eclipse memories of Phyllis. I was once able to
indulge in the escapism of my art, movies, books, and music. I am realizing,
now, that I will be without.
One
said: “Do you really need graduate school?... Start your own business….”
I wondered if he was right.
On the Verge of
Graduation and Into the Scary “Real World”
3-25-98: I’ve had nothing to lose. In one week
I have been able to go through multiple life changes: deciding my future,
dating, socializing. Somehow, I am happy. Some way, I am sad.
“Anxiety was in the Air”: There was this wild feeling of
spring anxiety in the air throughout the computer labs today. It was a mix of
uncertainty for my future, so I’ve been working extraordinarily hard on my
artwork. I need to distract myself from thinking too much about the real world
that is about to bite me once I graduate. I also feel like this may just be the
last few months I’ll ever have to do creative artwork until I am forced into
the professional world of having to make a living doing work – real work – that
isn’t fun at all to do. There is also a feeling of sexual tension in the air. I
see a girl that I like… and then I see her boyfriend and it’s totally wipes me
out. Again, it forces me to work harder on my artwork in order to prove my
worth. I do not want to be anonymous. I want to be noticed and liked. It is all
I can do to be. The girls are wearing short skirts and I cannot help but be
filled with overriding hormones that scream to be released. I just wish one of
them would notice me. But at the same time, I don’t know where I’ll be living
in a few months after I graduate. So what’s the point of getting into any type
of relationship? Everything feels so transitory, uncertain, and alive. It scares and exhilarates me. I
have never felt so present tense and
so full of panic as I do right now. I am a bit of a control freak, so it’s no
wonder that I’m losing my mind lately. The spring weather makes me so flustered
with emotions, but I don’t have any foundation to release them besides my
artwork. It’s no wonder that I’m terrified of losing being about to express
myself through art. I know I must “grow up” and become part of the real world
now that I’m almost a graduate. Yet I also feel like a newborn child, awakening
from a childhood dream and being born a newborn adult. Graduation and spring
will do that to you. I’m crying and laughing at the same time. I’m at the end
of my dream… and I feel it’s time to wake up. In fact, I’m certain of it.
Nearing Graduation: A Most Intensely Stressful Time of My Life
4-2-11: God,
I remember when April came around and how panicked I became as a
soon-to-be-graduating CCAD student. I was a daily panic attack. I was freaking
out with my stress levels on another level. We’re talking radioactive levels –
high alert emergency, near-fatal levels. I walked around as if my days were
indeed numbered. If someone asked me how I was doing, I’d tell them quite
sincerely, “Stressed.” I was an
emotional mess. For the first time in my life, I felt like I didn’t have a
clear direction after I graduated from CCAD. I’ve been in school my whole life.
It’s all I’ve known. My Interactive Design II teacher, Tracy Miller, told me
she wished I could work on my artwork “forever”. But she knew that was not
reality and I still needed to get a job. I needed to make money. My personal
artwork, though deeply creative, cathartic, and imaginative, wouldn’t support
me financially. So I was faced with a major decision: I had to completely
change my personality type. I couldn’t be this introspective “artist” type. I had
to be more extroverted and sell myself as a different type of artistic
professional. I simply wasn’t emotionally prepared to “selling” myself and my
abilities before. Now I was. I had a clear head. I essentially had to get rid
of my own personal dreams because they were clouding my way of finding a real
job upon graduation. I had to give up my personal fantasies because they didn’t
fit into a job around the Columbus area. No one is going to pay for my
interactive art projects about a cathartic journey in one’s tortured and
fragmented memories. It’s not cute or commercial enough. My creative vision had
gotten in the way of having a commercial vision. I had become a great artist.
Yet I had become a lousy commercial artist. It was the ultimate Catch-22 of being
creative. And it was a devastating realization. Stripping away my dreams and
need to express myself was like committing a form of personality suicide. I
couldn’t be who I truly was/ am. And that was definitely devastating on
personal, artistic, and creative levels. This was the most stressful time of my
existence. I could feel my heart imploding. Graduation was only six weeks away.
I felt like I was on death row. Where is my direction now? What am I going to
do? Working at Burger King making French fries would utterly devastate me…
waste me away. (So I took my personal pain and made “Vincent van Gogh Working
at McDonald’s” as my self-expression of my dilemma.) Ron Saks told me to
“breathe”. I’m trying… I’m trying… I’m trying….
Direction-less
4-8-98: I attended the CCAD students-meet-professionals event
“Directions” this evening in the Media Studies area… and I’m rather edgy and
scared by the experience. I showed off some of my Director interactive art
pieces, like “The Zoos”, to some local Children’s CD-ROM companies that my
teacher Tracy thought might be of interest to me. Yet I felt that my work
wasn’t for a children’s market, though I cannot deny that I may just need to
look into that area for possible work and employment. These little personal art
projects that I’ve found to be my “calling” are not going to pay the bills. And
I feel a sense of death inside me because I will not be able to keep working on
my personal art projects if I don’t get into graduate school. Instead, I will
have to sub-come to the “real world” and use my technical talents in a
different field of interest. So this evening’s “Directions” experience was
another wake-up call for myself that my dreams and ambitious aspirations are
about to be guillotined – compromised.
It’s incredibly sad and confusing, yet ultimately a maturing experience for
myself.
Beware of Making Art School a Fantasy Land
4-8-02: In a strange, sad way, going to art school was like living in a fantasy
world of ideas, imagination, and aesthetics. In the outside world, they don’t
care so much about the integrity of art. “The real world” cares about
commercial value. Graduating from art school can be the ultimate rude wake-up
call for those artists who are living in their own little, BIG fantasy worlds.
Such a shock can be horrific. They ask you the most provocative questions:
“What makes you different from everyone else? What separates you from what is
normal?” You work so hard to find your own voice and style - only to find
yourself alienated and no one relates to your work. You’re terminally ahead of
your time. You remain a genius to yourself and an outcast to the rest of the
world. You have to ask yourself the other major question: "What will make
me employable?"
Fear the Premature Death of My Creativity
4-9-98:
“I cannot stop being creative. It is a
sheer impossibility for me. So that is why I am so scared and fearful of
graduating. My greatest strength and asset will suddenly go to waste because
“the real world” doesn’t use true creativity in the workplace. They want
to make money, so they just want to do what has already been successfully
established. Original ideas have very little to do with the business of making
money. And that is what I fear so gravely. Creative people are idealistic
dreamers. Once reality crashes into them, they are left to fend for themselves
through the wreckage and carnage that awaits them in the uncertainty of
graduation. I make this all sound so overly dramatic, yet it does hurt to feel
your dreams die and never mature. You have to be full of dreams in order to
understand what this could feel like. It is like losing a beautiful child that
no one wants.”
"Would You Work in the Porn Video Industry?"
4-21-98: During Video III class today, Kon
Petrochuk, our video professor, half-jokingly and half-seriously asked the
class if they would be willing to work filming in the porn industry if they
needed the work. It was a shocking question to be faced with. My conservative
side didn't know how to deal with such a thought. And yet here I was on the
verge of being out of school and feeling utterly lost of what I was going to do
with myself. I needed a job. And I would like to have it in the industry that I
had gotten a descent education in. Two of my fellow classmates rose their hands
and willingly admitted they would work in porn with no reservations. I didn't
like porn at all, so it scared me out of my mind to think about heading out to
L.A. and the only work I could find in video production was shooting cheapo
pornography for some sleazy producer. It's no wonder I'm working crazy hard
lately because I don't want to work in that area. It just plain scares me the
death.
A
4-23-98:
Then, something happens. I went to my computer Animation II class this morning
and Ron gave me my future. He handed me a pamphlet that he had just gotten in
the mail about a new graduate school program in Computer Arts in the
During
my final year of undergraduate studies, I felt a need to continue pursuing my
interests in art through interactive, computer animation, and digital video
forms. When I imagined myself using these mediums to commercial ends I realized
that I would be hampering my freedoms of creativity and self-expression - the
two freedoms that allowed me to achieve a sense of meaning in my life. I
considered creating art in my life to be work, play, vocation, and dreaming.
For the last six months of my senior year, I worked intensely on pieces about
relationships, sensitivity, anguish, escapism, and humor.
Throughout
my life I’ve immersed myself in music, movies, and books because they deal with
levels of feelings and perceptions that are beyond the concerns of everyday
life. Through several cathartic experiences, my emotions have evolved with a
penetrating sensitivity for life, and this has allowed me to apply what I had
learned about the world to my art work and my life. I believe that exposing the
negative is healing and very positive. It is also extremely important to have a
sense of humor about life and art. Hopefully, my work will affect others with a
sense of empathy and sensitivity. I‘ve sought as diverse of a selection of art
as possible with an urgency to define my character and my art. From Frank
Capra’s Mr. Smith Goes to Washington to Paul Schrader’s Mishima: A
Life in Four Chapters, I consider cathartic expressions in all forms to be
influential and inspiring.
Through
working with Premiere, Photoshop, Director, Maya, and other software programs
in 1996-98, I found techniques where I could finally manipulate my work into
dreamscapes and personalized “memory parks”. The creative jungle-gym of ideas
inside my existence found a place to thrive and grow. I felt that there is a
great potential in these mediums and wished the opportunity to continue
learning and exploring at a graduate school. I envisioned myself addressing the
viewer with direct, first-hand questions that arise during an interactive
piece. One could read the text on the image as well as be audibly provoked with
decisions where their choice will affect the direction of the experience. I was
also excited by the new digital environments one can create that imaginatively
mirror reality. Digital individuals could shake hands with filmed characters in
the same environment. We could expand our creative vision and combine these new
mediums with a sense of personality and emotion that is often left out of
digital work for the sake of fancy special effects purposes. I believed that
graduate school would be the ideal environment for me to pursue my goals… and
it was.
“Up in the Air”
5-5-98: There’s an
electricity in the air of not knowing where my future will lead or go. I feel
my dreams slipping away from me, or maybe just opening up. I’m in a
relationship with a girl I am uncertain about, yet feel sexually attracted to.
I’m about to graduate from art school, but don’t know about my grad school
chances. Everything is up in the air. I’m juggling my future blindfolded with
only a small slip in the blindfold to see what I’m doing. I’m scared and
excited. I know things are about to happen for me, or maybe not. I’m on edge. I
know I can’t commit emotionally to dating when I know I may be leaving to a
whole other region of the
I Made It, But What About My High School Classmates?
5-11-98:
It's a real shock to have graduated and be out of school now. I'm home at
Coldwater and recovering from three full years of undergraduate art school
education. Yet I'm also realizing how bizarre it is to have managed to finish
my undergraduate degree a whole year ahead of my classmates that I graduated
with in 1995. I got a year's head start because I was in the Post-Secondary
Program and got a year of college classes (mainly Liberal Arts classes) out of
the way during my senior year of high school before coming to CCAD. I'm free
now. And yet my former Coldwater classmates are still in school, having
finished their junior year in their respective schools… if they went to college
or are still in college. I've gained an achievement with gaining my diploma at
a prestigious school like CCAD. That's something to take with me. Even though
the future is not certain and it scares the crap out of me, I feel I can at
least take comfort in the fact that I
made it. I worked my ass off, paid attention, remained focused, gained some
talent, and made it across the finish line. And I'm still wanting to learn
more.
The Dirty Little Secret of How I Succeeded: Being Single
5-11-98:
I think the dirty little secret to how I managed to be "good" and
succeed at such a high-demand school like CCAD comes down to this: I was mostly
single during my crucial senior year. I had the spare time to truly focus on my
work. Yet I also needed a motivating factor(s). I was plagued with intense
loneliness and had to do something about it. So I worked myself nearly to death
every day by working in the computer lab on my artwork. I worked compulsively
like a man on fire with a passionate fever of determination. I had something to
prove. I suppose I was also subconsciously trying to impress my ex-girlfriend
and show her that I wasn't worth letting go. I was also trying to impress my
female classmates that I was a great artist. Ironically, I had to turn down a
couple of girls who asked me out since I was too busy getting my portfolio
materials together for graduate school. But all in all, I don't think I would
have reached that "magna cum laude" graduation status if I wasn't
single. And that's the truth. My forced bachelorhood left me reeling with
loneliness that I had to nurse by working like crazy. Working on my art
projects was my default, de facto therapy. Ironically the after the graduation
ceremony, my ex-girlfriend Phyllis congratulated me on my making magna cum
laude. It was nice of her to acknowledge that. She had been at the graduation
ceremony mainly because her boyfriend Chris was graduating. And yet now at the
end with my graduation, I was fine with her seeing other people. On top of all
these emotions were the intensity of needing to succeed and better myself
before I graduated. I needed to have a better portfolio before I applied to
graduate schools. I had the existential desperate need to have something to do
once I graduated from CCAD. So thanks to being single, I made it. Thanks,
solitude!
Uncertainty at the Crossroads: Sex and Love vs. My Future
5-21-98: I've got pretty ambivalent feelings
when I wake up in the morning over at my girlfriend's one-bedroom apartment
after spending the night. Having a sexual relationship with a women is so new
to me… and it feels so unusual and uncertain, especially in regards to how to
juggle a love life with what I plan to do with my future. I've always been used
to having long-term girlfriends where there was no sex involved. Yet after my
sexual introduction with my current girlfriend, I am starting to wonder. Not
that I am gay or anything, but rather I am confused if I am doing the right
thing sleeping with this woman when I'm not sure about my own immediate future.
Am I staying or leaving right now? I hate getting into something
"deep" when I am not sure about
this person (or any person) for a long-term relationship. I think it has more
to do with the guilt and shame of not knowing for certain if this relationship
will last. There's that deep emotional fear in me. And I've felt that way with
every relationship I've had in the past six months. Don't get me wrong - I feel
deeply for my current girlfriend. Yet I also know that I might be leaving Ohio
in just over two months. And that scares the living shit out of me. I’m also
not 100% certain about her. There's so many things right about her. Yet there's
a lot of negatives about her as well that I can't fully shake or dismiss. I
wake up with this semi-naked woman laying next to me. It terrifies me of the
possibility that she very well could get pregnant, even though I used a condom
last night. Who knows how long this relationship might last? And if she gets
pregnant, will I be stuck in a pointless, hopeless future without a Masters
degree here in Columbus, OH for the rest of my life? My greatest fear is not fulfilling
my grand ambitions in this life. Would I be sacrificing my dreams, aspirations,
and dreams? I think I love this woman. Yet I don't know for how long I'll be
able to. Our differing life paths may soon tear us apart. This world of sex is
so scary to me. There's so many joys and uncertainties to it. Sex is still such
an unknown territory for me. I want more complete control over it. I'm
constantly frightened of the condom breaking or something. What if!? I'm
already emotionally on the edge - at the crossroads of my future. I can't have
too much baggage before I embark upon a greater destiny. I've just graduated
after three long, hard years at CCAD. And now I don't know for certain if I've
gotten in graduate school until another few weeks. I'm waiting for my life to
change - and advance forward anew. My
life is almost at a climax of insane amounts of uncertainty. I'm scared almost
every waking moment of every day. I don't get much sleep from how much I'm
worrying about my undecided future. Yet I will say this: I've never felt so ALIVE. I'm feeling every moment. My nerves are on their ends. And sex has made
me feel the ultimate in sexual pleasure. I feel like I'm experiencing an
emotional minefield at the end of my CCAD life. And now I'm about to embark on
a whole new period to my life's journey. Yet it hasn't been mapped out yet.
We'll see….
The Moment I Truly Realized I Was an Artist
Let me just politely state that simply going to art
school doesn’t necessarily make you an artist. You can learn how to draw or
paint, but that doesn’t quite make you real.
But I feel what does make one a true artist is if you make art for art’s sake. You’re not doing it for
a grade for a class or for money. You are just creating to create, expressing
to express. I believe the turning point moment for me personally was
immediately after my graduation from the Columbus College of Art and Design
when I had to question if I wanted to make art anymore. “Why spend so much of
my free time doing something that wouldn’t be making me money?” I questioned.
Of course, spending time working on my artwork also helps me out with my
techniques and craft in the process to remain great at what I love to do. I
watched as many of my classmates who were just as good and talented as I was
simply cease making artwork. They
didn’t have classes for them to force them to do art anymore. And so they just
stopped. Art had always been more of a hobby than a passion. Yet for me, it was
a passion, a great love and life force that kept me feeling creative and my
mental state stable. I needed the self-expression in my life to be exercised
through my artwork. It was like breathing in and out. I needed to keep doing
art for my own sake. And that was when I realized I was going to be a life-long
artist rather than a short-time art student. The difference had been made, and
I stepped past the line continuing on making personal art.
One of the Events
That Got Me Out of My Shell
I
believe I got over my fear of public speaking and my trepidation of becoming a
teacher from being out selling my artwork for two days at a community festival
just a month after I had graduated from art school. It was that much of a
wake-up call to myself that this was something I had to do. Quite
simply, this type of life of being a “gypsy artist” didn’t suit me. You put
your life’s work out on a table for people to look at and admire… and pass
right on by, over and over again. This is no way to make a living. I couldn’t
even stand simply wasting my time and energy out their sitting next to my art
prints for ten hours on two consecutive days. You never know what the weather
is going to be like. It could be insufferably hot, which makes people not want
to come out to the festival. It could be rainy, which does the same. And even
if it is perfect weather, that doesn’t mean the economy is in great shape every
year. It all came very clear to me during that weekend festival. My idealistic
hopes and dreams were crushed. My colleague artist friend had boasted up my
expectations too high. People weren’t going to be easily impressed by
surrealistic/ expressionistic digital artwork in a fancy white frame and fork
over $50. I barely made a profit by selling just a couple of works. That didn’t
justify my sitting out in the summer heat and humidity. Yes, my artwork was
good. But it made me realize I could never make a living doing this type of
thing. So I realized I had to change. And this was just another event that
converted me to get me out of my introverted shell and become an extrovert.
This was the real world. This was like shock therapy.
6-27-98 “Com Fest ‘98”
“But you and I, we've been through that, and this is
not our fate. So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late." -“All Along the Watchtower” by Bob Dylan.
From
ten in the morning to nine-thirty this evening, I put all of my energy and time
into setting up at Com Fest ‘98 and sitting in front of my digital prints,
framed and matted for $50, and had only one sale... reduced down to $45. I
enjoyed the first few hours of looking around at such a bizarre diversity of
hippies, homosexuals, dogs, and “other”. I read through my journals from a year
ago and realized how naively sentimental I was about love and loss. Jason
Brooks and I rationed off our jug of lukewarm water in 90+ degree heat.
Thankfully, we were in the shade, so it felt more like 86 degrees. I sweated so
much I only pissed once for the eleven hours I was there. Yet, things turned
disappointing and disillusioning as the hours waned on. Our rather high
expectations about how well we would do with such a large crowd died along with
the sunlight. Curious observers were impressed by our work and took many
of our business cards. I uncomfortably encountered a couple of scarily
interested gay men who took several of my business cards with my home phone
number on them after “flirting” with me. I spent so many weeks working on putting
together this portfolio with self-promotional materials such as personalized
business cards, flyers, and posters – only to watch my business cards with my
personal information on them snatched away by gay men in their forties who were
walking by with their dogs, checking out my artwork, and me. “Aaaarrrrrggggghh!!!”
All that work only to be turned on its head.
It was
so sadly ridiculous. I felt drained and desperately wanted
to leave - yet, I had to stay since I drove over the tables and art that had my
friend Jason’s work on it, too. I believe the main thing that got me through
the day was the thought of being with my girlfriend at the end of the day. Still,
I became severely depressed and uncertain.… I lost my idealism and found the
life hard. I felt the heavy responsibility of raising money for myself in my
chosen profession of art and discovering that I despised it. By doing things I
didn’t want to do, I felt the urgency of my life and my future. I arrived into
my mind for the first time since those grad schools rejected me back in late
March that I had to change. As I drove past CCAD on my way home tonight, I
missed the comfort of having a steady schedule of art classes, of being a
student. I yearned to be a freshman again. After all...sigh... I’ve found the
“real world” to be a disappointing, miserable place.
I told myself: “You have to endure even as your dreams wane. Even when
your mind pollutes you with suspicion, doubt, and desperation. Even when your
skin is burnt and your head is aching.”
An Extremely
Stressful and Transitional Period in My Life
7-14-98: I’ve been obsessively and passionately
listening to “Neil Young: Life” for the past few weeks as the date for my
departure to graduate school and, hence, end of an era in
Making Amends with Leaving Columbus and My Colleagues Behind
7-18-98: Well.… ...It’s about that time to give
my thanks for being able to leave
Saying Goodbye to a Girlfriend and Columbus - My Two Loves
7-26-98:
Today I left Columbus and Bethany behind. We must have spent half an hour
saying goodbye. After our final kiss
goodbye, I drove off and got on the interstate through downtown heading west.
Slowly, the reality that I was leaving behind a woman I had felt a deeper
connection to than any other. Yet, I was finally also leaving to fulfill my
life and career at graduate school in Ft. Lauderdale,
Getting Rid of My Past for a New Beginning
7-26-98:
I rediscovered several forgotten stories I had written in high school English
classes. They were all thrown away with other uninteresting art pieces I had
done at CCAD - many of which took me more than eight hours each to complete. I
guess I’m at a point where I want to start fresh again with my life. So I’m
getting rid of my past. I’m at that kind of state of mind. It’s time for a new
beginning. It’s time to throw away my part to be reborn again.
My Days
on the Edge of the World
8-11-98: I’ll remember these days as my days on the edge of the world and
my life. They felt so out-of-place. Here I was completely displaced in South
My Days
on the Edge of the World
8-11-98: I’ll remember these days as my days on the edge of the
world and my life. They felt so out-of-place. Here I was completely displaced
in south
My Artistic Genesis, Creation, and Motivation
8-14-98: I’ve grown up in with a desperate fear
of wasting my life in commercial work. During high school, I worked as a
custodian by cleaning up classrooms, doing the same job every day - eventually
staining my emotions with a passionate need to leave. During the summer when I
worked with six other student co-workers, I rarely ever talked. I obsessed
about proving myself more than just working class. It scared me to my core that
I’d be a nobody while my peers got all the girls. I had to prove myself
by expressing myself. Art just happened to be the medium I choose. I found
myself releasing all of myself through self-expressive, personal art. It saved
me as much as it showed how good of an artist I could be when I set myself to
it. Yet, I’m at the point where I can’t give it up. I need to express
myself now. It’s part of me. I can’t help but be creative, artistic, and
emotive. I want my life to have meaning – not lying away in commercial
doldrums. I don’t mind doing some commercial gigs, but I can’t allow myself to
be too distracted from being true to my art. I want my life to prove something.
Like a high school kid with no idea of what to do with one’s life, I’m
searching for my life every day through the creation of my artwork.
The Motivation to Work Hard
8-16-98: I’ve
noticed a lot of working class people working ten-hour shifts (like at the
grocery store) at jobs they’d rather not be at. Yet the friendly company of
their co-workers helps them make it through the day. The older I’ve gotten the
more obsessed and focused I’ve become about working harder, harder still until I feel that I’ve made
it to the place I need to be. I can’t be second place anymore. Not anymore in
this new real world. I have to give 110%, sometimes even 549%!! The passion to
work is like needing to eat. I don’t think I could make it through life now
that I’ve made this many steps, made this many dreams. I know what artwork
isn’t good in this world - about 99.4% of it. I know that’s... critical, but I
have to be that critical in order to judge the worth of my own work in order to
make it that much better.
Too Sensitive for Life
8-25-98: I found out
this evening from my girlfriend
Life’s
daily insanities provoke a desperate need for release before I’m dead. Feelings
need a place to go, a canvas, a cage, a home! Don’t leave them high and dry in
loneliness in one’s soul where they brew and eventually explode as violence
(like in public shootings). Support the arts to have our children learn to
handle their emotions!
Psychoanalysis for Me
8-26-98: I got a
less-than-interested reaction to the interactive pieces that I’ve spent eight
months working on that provoked me to withdraw into my thoughts to find
answers... inward toward imagination and deep feelings. My interactive pieces
border on psychoanalysis for me. And for them to not get a cathartic reaction
of my classmates who were going through them really upset me. I got so depressed. I felt the same way I did
when I got rejected at Cal Arts and without sales at Com Fest - rejected and
alone. ”That’ll take the wind out of his sails,” my id barked at me. I needed
to communicate more with words and language to get into the interactee’s mind.
An artist must share their emotions with an interactee. Yet I do all this work
and no one cares!! I must continue to try to prove myself. People are just too
busy and have too short of attention spans to care enough. They’ve always got
to get something done. And since my work hasn’t won any major awards or gotten
media attention, it isn’t worth watching or experiencing. I am victim to this
cynical bias. (I always read what critics have to say about it and what awards
a movie or album has received. So how can I be so insensitive and hypocritical
about how my classmates are reacting when I would have reacted the same way!
Everyone’s time is too precious to waste on something that people don’t know
anything about beforehand.) Yet do I have to use titles like “Andy Warhol and Salvador Dali Present”
to get people’s attention? I am convinced that it takes being reincarnated as
someone “famous” to get people’s attention. I’ll be “Eric van Gogh, The Resurrected Computer Artist”.
Then,
I felt it possible to hold nothing back… to feel free of doubts or worry.
Reflecting Back at My Graduates Peers…
9-4-98:
Hundreds of thousands of confused,
disillusioned college students took to the streets marching with blank banners
and white flags. They simply didn’t know what to do with themselves after they
graduated.
When
I was in art school, my peers and I were all on the same level, in the same
boat, and we made it through to graduation. What happened after that day has
humbled me ever since. Some of us got jobs that didn’t matter if they had
worked so hard and graduated from a private art school. Some found commercial
jobs around the area that weren’t personally satisfying, but they were at least
in their field. Some left town for a job (planned or unplanned), or graduate
school, or to get married/ pregnant. But wherever we happened to end up at we
all had one thing in common - an
uncertain future. None of us know for certain how we are going to like our
new lives. I don’t think I’m on a higher level than anyone else. If I were to
think egotistically that I’ve “gone further” than my peers, it would create a
physical and emotional distance that ultimately shames me deeply. I can’t go
back to my old life that I’ve left in
The Spiritual Convictions of a Free-Spirited Artist
9-5-98: As I had predicted, my father confronted me about my not
going to a church down here. I sincerely expressed my decision for my views and
opinions about my confusion over religion, my boredom with sitting through
mass, the Theory of Evolution, and my lack of empathy for churchgoers. (I forgot
to mention my troubled mind with women being restricted from giving mass, the
pope, questionable church donations, the Big Bang Theory, and God’s shyness.) I
even quoted Vincent van Gogh as played by Kirk Douglas in Lust For Life:
“I’m not an atheist. I do believe in God. It’s just that some people serve God
through the pulpit, others through a painting”. Then I became acutely aware of
how much art, movies, and music has influenced me. I found role models in Woody
Allen, John Lennon, Vincent van Gogh, Salvador Dali, Tim Burton. Certainly
Ingmar Bergman’s films about the anguish of living with “the silence of God”
had an effect upon me. Yet, how do I explain what I’ve experienced to my
father? I believe that my generation and I have been brainwashed, to some
extent, by the media, in a positive and negative way. I know that Bergman’s
films were personal, devastatingly honest about having faith (and a loss of). I
learned and felt more from The Last Temptation of Christ than any time
I’ve been to church! I may be corrupted my role models (none of which I’ve
never met except through their art), yet the ideas and feelings they express to
me matter more. Feelings are my Eucharist, my sermon, my Gospel, my blood and
spirit. Because there are so many religions, I do not wish to designate myself
to anyone. I’d rather learn about their faith and remain with an open mind.
It’s the best way to empathize with someone and not feel a separation from them
with a label of one’s creed (be it Jew, Catholic, Methodist, atheist,
Buddhist...). Consequently, it makes me question God. I’ve tried not to be
arrogant and think churchgoers to being narrow-minded, but most of them do not
feel like I do - and that alienates me. Yes, we all share qualities that tie us
all together: human compassion, friendship.... I know most of them are good
people, but the people I’ve found to be good friends are those who are
self-expressive and free-thinking as well as those with sensitivity and
friendship. At times, I realized I was feeble-minded and vain to make
conclusions on the Bible when I haven’t read or studied it for years. In fact,
I can’t even hold up my beliefs because I can’t be entirely sure about them.
There is no certainty to any of our beliefs. There is only faith. Both sides
could be naive and be equally happy about them. Well, I just don’t want to deal
with all this confusion... and I’m happier for it. Call it “ignorance is bliss”
if you wish, I happier without religion causing issues in my mind.
Lastly,
if anyone gets critical on me for not going to church, I’ll respond: “Why
haven’t you drawn your self-portrait today?”
Now here is a song I desperately wish
to sing along with in a church:
Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today
Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace
You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope some day you’ll join us
And the world will be as one.
Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...
You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one.
“Imagine” by John Lennon
The above is over two hours worth of introspection, deep
thought, self-panic, and, at last, emotional resolution. I do not believe I am
right. I’m not wrong either. It may be a difference in being left-brained or
right brained, conservative and liberal. I don’t know - can you empathize?
I’m So Afraid that
the Things I Create Won’t Matter to Anyone Else But Me
9-12-98: It tears me up inside that I’m putting
my heart out on the line in my art pieces and they still don’t make any
difference to anyone else. I truly wonder if my introspection has mattered to
anyone. Will people just go and joke, “This guy sure is manic-depressive!” because I actually used real emotions instead of manufactured sentimental emotions into my
work. Or I’ll hear: “He sure does take a lot of drugs!” because I actually used my God-given imagination instead of doing something bland and boring, or ripping
off what other people have done before. And then they go back to their lives
without feeling changed because they weren’t willing to open themselves up to
new artistic expressions and new emotions. With my own personal art, I want to
make something so personal and real that it’ll be universal
to everyone who are open enough to appreciate and empathize with deep emotions,
a grand imagination, and a wicked sense of humor. (At least I’ll get the an
alienated teenage audience.) It’s all been coming together in the editing of
images and sound in the past through hard work, doubt, more hard work, and
re-doubting myself until I get it right. I’m putting everything I’ve got into
making my art work. It’s a sacrifice to my own soul.
Despair Returns
9-14-98:
I felt a terrifying sense of
loneliness - physically, spiritually, creatively, and emotionally, for a couple
of times today - and the emotional isolation is far worse. I got light-headed
from how much change had been put upon me. I’ve been having a mentally difficult
time learning the new 3-D software, Maya. I feel totally overwhelmed by the
technical challenges of it on my creative mind. It’s like learning how to type
- and then someone rearranges the keyboard because they think it’s better and
new... and you have to learn it all over again on top of what you had already
learned. My classmates and instructors are nice and sometimes helpful, yet they
hardly have a personal vision for me to empathize with like I could back at
CCAD. It makes me feel so lonesome.
The Battle to Conquer Left-Brained
Computer Animation
9-18-98: The hardest part about using such complex, left-brain 3-D
computer animation software is to be able to remain creative and right-brained.
They keep advertising that it can “unleash your imagination” - well, it sure is
hard to do when the software is set up for analytical, left-brain thinking
people!! This stuff isn’t exactly “artist-friendly” at all! Today I had eight
hours of frustration and discouragement with Maya aggravated my idealism and
imagination. I didn’t understand how to control the animation or the lighting.
This stuff is just taking a lot more time to get a handle on that I ever
imagined.
Be a Figment of Our Collective Subconsciousness
9-19-98: I
realized today that my existence might just be a figment of our collective
subconsciousness. We are all a dream of a dream. The longer we dream, live and
grow... we develop emotions… and develop a dreamed up consciousness. Everything
is all right within this mindset of free thoughts… for that is all we are. We
are just tangible thoughts.
In Moral Conflict
9-22-98: And it’s not
just my girlfriend and her problems that are bothering me - it's everything
about life. I don’t want to deal with so many problems and so much confusion
and emotional conflict. I end up depressed, repressed (for good reason), and
emotionally lost and distant. And sometimes I feel utterly and completely empty inside. And this is such horror to
my emotions. “Can you handle what I’m about to say to you?” I want to reply
back, “I’m not always strong enough to deal with your emotions.” I’m too
sensitive right now. Then there are some days I have such trouble with being
empathetic. I don’t know how to react when I find out that my closest friend/
classmate uses drugs to expand his mind... or my girlfriend decides to pose
nude before a painting class because she needs money. I want my life to be
"safe", but not "normal". And that’s a basic contradiction!
You can’t have it both ways, idiot!! My artist present life and my Catholic
upbringing are in moral conflict - and I’m stuck feeling indifferent, or overly
emotional, or numb, or even immaculately distraught. I wallow in my pain so no
one can hurt me but myself.
I
have no choice but to adapt to life... to “grow up”. Time passes and the
intensity of confusion fades or gets replaced with imagination, a lover,
friendships, and movies.
Money Is Security
10-11-98:
What my life comes down to is that I’ve got money
to get me through. I managed to leave
Personal Art for Others
10-13-98: I’ve got the feeling that my personal
artwork is exactly what it is - personal. I make it for myself because it's the
kind of art I want to feel and experience, for nothing else out there affects
me the way my work does to me. Hopefully, others will appreciate it as much as
I do. Everyone has an appetite for imagination and it can be explored through
artwork.
Too
Much Art and Information Is Killing the Good Real Art
10-13-98: Are we polluting the world with
too much art? Too much information, too many opinions, too much beauty, too
much emotion, too much depression.... And therefore, no one cares anymore about
art, dreams, or the imagination because they're so numb to it all? Sex is a
cheaper, more flashy alternative "high". The pure art of real artists
not out to make money is getting overwhelmed and overlooked because there is so
much bad art out there. We've got to wipe the palette clean again. Throw out
the bad art and replace it with the real. We need soul in our art rather than
pop music and plastic surgery beauty.
Public Speaking Catharsis
10-14-98: When giving
a class presentation speech in front of my classmate peers and instructors,
there was an exhilaration and hypnotic pause - a profound embarrassment of
being in front of an audience and consciously realizing that you don’t know what to say. A mix of anxiety,
attention, and a sense of humor that was leading to an emotionally shattering
experience. You laugh and cry out simultaneously - usually inside yourself.
It’s really quite an experience! The moment goes on for minutes or years or eternities
(depending on one’s state of mind). By being mesmerized by one’s own
embarrassment, you provoke one’s human condition to awaken for release. It’s
like being born again! Yeah, public embarrassment! Yet I have to realize that
deep inside today was a crucial step for me to get over my acute shyness and
learn to be able to speak in public. I've got to do it if I want to become a
teacher. I've got to get over my fears. Today I made a stand. I may not have
been thoroughly successful. But I still made a stand. And that's a cathartic
breakthrough for me!
The Battle to Stand Out
10-21-98: This has
been my semester of mistakes, waiting, frustrating, and learning. When I got
rejected from those two initial graduate schools in
The Family Strain
10-29-98:
I was overly manic on the phone with
my dad... The crisis (and I know how much I love reading this): that I’m not
caring enough for my sisters or my dad... as he rightfully pointed out to me.
And he was so right. Under great emotional exhaustion, I stuttered and
apologized with the stress of my situation: I can’t be acquainted with everyone
I’ve ever known as much as I used to be! “I’M
SORRY”.... please! Ever since I’ve been in art school and now graduate
school, I simply don’t have the time,
energy, or psyche to alter the personality I have to fit the various people and
acquaintances in my life. I have to keep my relationship with
My
other dilemma is personality and empathy with my family and old friends. I
understand my girlfriend Bethany and my old art school classmate Justin more
than my conservative family members. The radical switches in personality are
causing too much tension in my life. I am too afraid of offending or offsetting
my relatives and classmates by acting too eccentric. (Like I vocally assured my
instructor today, I create the work I do not
by taking drugs but by being naturally weird.) My sensitivity is silencing me
for good reason. I can only express it through my artwork. Art saves
me. I’ve been trying so hard to be an individual that I’ve isolated myself
into bliss and also depression. I mean, who would I want to be with more: those
who think of Kurt Cobain is a passionate and emotional musician… or those who
think Yanni is? I know my sister Lara
would choose Yanni because she doesn’t even know who Kurt Cobain is, and that
hurts me because I just don’t relate to her. My soul is closer to Cobain’s.
And I broke down and recovered. Hey, I’m in a great mood! I
expressed myself instead of repressing myself.
“Art Is Not Just in Museums”
11-9-98: I
question if art is for everyone anymore. Once art could be defined as
aesthetically pleasing. In the mid to late twentieth century, we have
surrounded ourselves with so much beauty, thanks to advanced methods of
communication and technology, we’re developed an apathy for most of art. The
world has taken it for granted. We’ve seen and felt so much “art” that our
senses are no longer as impressed by it. There is so much mediocre art in our
corporately sponsored society that are being exposed in museums, television,
movies, the internet, and book stores that it drags the entire creative
standard down with it.
So
we need to look for and find what is considered “good art”. I believe the only
true form of art is personal. In my own opinion, I adore some of van Gogh’s
work because I have empathy for his life (through reading his letters and
viewing the van Gogh biographical dramatization Lust For Life). I feel
emotions when I see pictures of my significant other, old girlfriends, my
family, and close friends. The Star Wars figures I played with as a
child are art sculptures. The emotionally bare songs of the albums “Bob Dylan:
Blood on the Tracks” and “John Lennon: Plastic Ono Band” are like religious
hymns to me. I know that other people like the same things I do - but most
don’t consider them art to themselves. I’d even call my own girlfriend “a
priceless masterpiece” - because of her flaws, her eccentricity, her sense of
humor, her moods, her courage.... Other people don’t see her the way I do. They
usually don’t feel for certain aspects of life because they either didn’t have
the time, patience, relation, or empathy
for an artwork or a person. Our lives have become too crowded with information
and beauty that we don’t have room for sensitivity and imagination. It’s art
fatigue. Too much exposure goes to commercial ”art” with all its superficial
visual beauty and conservative, inoffensive nature. It kills off our
individuality as a society by seeing so much mediocrity. I feel a major problem
with people not using their emotions, imagination, or intellect since they
won’t be able to decipher what is good and what is bad. If everything is “fine”
and “happy”, we won’t change and immorality will continue thriving without
argument or protest.
These
words will be considered “nothing new” and will be forgotten. They will be
forgotten. Yet, an impression lasts in type. ...Is it art?
Empty Social Life
11-20-98: The
topic of having a social life was brought up toward a classmate of mine. The
question could have been directed to me if they knew more about my empty social
life. Exactly what social life is worth having? I’d rather be working than
wasting time drinking coffee for hours at end at a coffee shop. I’d rather be producing.
I've Got to Change That I Don’t Communicate
11-22-98: I
had several others critical observations to make this evening, but they’re
gone... the electricity went off and were “deleted” from memory. They’re
forgotten. In it’s place, I called up my sister Lara and exposed my faults to
her: how I didn’t care to communicate. I really don’t ask or care how someone
else is doing?! The biggest revelation was that I don’t communicate that much so
I can remain different, work more on
my art, and express myself through introspection (my journal with these very words). I really couldn’t write
after I finished talking on the phone with her an hour and a half later. I had
expressed myself outwardly (extroverted)
instead of inwardly (introverted). I
was, oddly, at peace with myself. I’ve always used rage and desperation as my
motivating force to do artwork. By doing so I’ve cut myself off from leading a
“well” life. “What makes you happy?” I’m really not that mature when dealing
with other people. I don’t want to deal with them. So I escape into my own
artwork - it’s the easy way out. Tonight, I learned that was a crucial part of
my life that’s been missing, vacant.
I don’t communicate… and I’m missing out. Therefore, I don’t change. I feel
more alive now because I know I’m
changing for the better by realizing my mistake and making acting upon it.
“Imagination” and Beauty Overload
11-27-98: With dealing
with every day modern life, I simply want to tune out from so many “fantastic
things”. Everywhere we look in media are “beautiful”, flashy images. Our media
society has cheapened and commercialized our livelihoods. Once upon a time, the
Statue of Liberty was an awe-inspiring sight! It’s a tourist attraction now
(with a sign on
Life/ Imagination Overload
11-27-98: I simply want to tune out from so many
“fantastic things” in this overwhelming world. Everywhere we look is
“beautiful” images. Once upon a time, the Statue of Liberty was an
awe-inspiring sight! It’s a tourist attraction now (with a sign on
I Suspect I've Got a Lot of Growing Up
and Maturing Left to Do
12-2-98:
Today we had a visiting artist
from ILM. I hesitated to show my latest computer animation piece to the
animation supervisor from ILM. I believed that I didn’t “need” to because my
animation was a bit too experimental, self-expressive, uncommercial, and
surreal for most people, especially in a commercial film industry. When I did
show him the piece, he critiqued and explained that I wasn’t clear in
expressing the content to the viewer through the spoken words. It is a
difficult to hear criticism… especially when I realized he was right. My voice
became hushed and soft-spoken afterwards. My personality was utterly serious. I
was humbled deeply since I knew that I had spent so much time, energy, and work into the project – only to learn
that it wasn’t remaining clear. So I am humbled and hurt. And now I have even
more work to do.
It
has become all too clear that I take too much pleasure in my victories (my ego
enlarges) and too much pain from my disappointments (possessed by depression).
I suspect I've got a lot of growing up and maturing left to do.
Life Is a Physical Imagination
12-15-98: I just
realized that my existence could be a form of Physical Imagination. Reality is fantasy because we don’t know for
certain if we are or if we are not. We can’t figure out death, so how could we
figure out reality? Uncertainty leads to fiction. I live in an Emotional
imagiNation.
Originality Is Not Appreciated or Even... Understood
12-21-98: In the House
of Dad, originality is not appreciated or even... understood. 2001 is
confusing and pointless visuals. The Beatles’ songs are noisy nonsense. My
interactive pieces are just clickable visuals that aren’t worth a minute of
one’s time. I’m laughing madly to myself in a fantasy world that no one else
gets. So I get the isolation. Yet it is the only way to be original, true, and
real.
“His humor verges on obscurity and
desperation.…” -Eric Homan.
Impossible to Live in Life
1-6-99: You
know, being ambitious and dedicated to one’s art makes it nearly impossible to
live in life. Normal, average people
don’t compare with artistic expression. I felt like I didn’t need a family, a
girlfriend, classmates, or old friends to bother me. I just needed them a tiny bit. It caused me great sadness and sorrow to realize these
thoughts. Medication did deflate their weight upon me... thankfully? Yet it was
the lingering knowledge of this that
haunts me so.
Self-Expressive “Depression Art”
1-15-99: Is all I’m
making is Self-Expressive “Depression Art”? Have I lived my life in pain and
expressed in all in art to see it not exposed in vain? Is it some form of grand
isolation game that I’ve been partaking in since my youth? It’s been too easy
of a course to play for me. Yet here I am, still making this artwork day in and
day out based on my emotional despair. I don't care. It heals my pain a little.
Do I Have Sentimental Anguish?
1-17-99: What am I
doing wrong with my life? I’m not content. I can’t express myself with
originality. I feel desperation. I need to change. Life has gone wrong? I’ve
had dozens of weekend nights like this. I’m not drunk but I’m rambling and
talking out loud with self-indulgent pain. Do
I have sentimental anguish?
I Need to Remember So I Can Release
1-22-99: I
need to deal with it. While others
try to forget their painful experiences and thoughts, I need to remember so I
can release it, voice it through my personal, self-expressive artwork. I don’t
want to belong to the counter-culture or the mainstream. I want to belong to myself and the originality that an
open-minded artist can bring. Some take drugs to free their minds, but they
forget to free themselves all by themselves. Where in the inner power and determination that leads to self-growth? Do it
yourself through confronting and finding catharsis through making or
experiencing art. Do it alone and make the experience personal. You don't need
anti-depressants or pot or alcohol to ease your pain. You need art, empathy,
and understanding to release your emotions.
Struggling with Learning So Much Technical Information
1-29-99: For
knowing only confusion and discouragement, my impatience erupted today at the
computer lab. My instructors will seemingly impatiently mock me for asking for
assistance because I’m slow with learning Maya and complain aloud if I’ve been
weak. I can’t get any work done when I’m struggling so much with the technical
tools. My creativity is halted and I can’t find no release. So much new
information I’ve had to relearn what I’ve forgotten... and then learn the new
information on top of that. How am I supposed to be able to speak up and assert
myself when I can’t breathe!??! You
can’t think when you’re drowning. I've got to take a break and calm myself
down.
Eating Out with a Friend Shouldn’t Be Considered a Waste of
Time
2-15-99: When
I am inactive and unable to work, I feel a building depression. Whether it is
out to dinner with a classmate (like tonight) or spending time with my
girlfriend, I sense that I am not achieving self-expression. Ironically, I was...
just not in a physical sense. When I started discussing movies that I had seen
recently (Kurt & Courtney), I thought that I wasn’t saying anything
profoundly interesting compared to my computer work. Yet, I need to have
outside communication in order to balance the introverted moments of my day. Am
I succeeding even when I feel that I am failing? Eating out with a friend
shouldn’t be considered a waste of time. I know that the seclusion of my
apartment is all too safe compared to the outside world. No one can hurt me
here. Yet... what is the point to not going outside my place?
Struggling with the 3D Technology
2-15-99: I
am troubled by the fact that I feel that my classmates have been doing the
technical aspects of my computer animation for me. I consistently have to ask
them for help in showing me how to do certain operations that would usually
take me several days to figure out (it takes them five minutes). I sincerely can’t figure out the appropriate ways of
completing my computer animation piece by myself. I’ve tried only to be told that I should have done it “this way”.
I can’t take in all the technical information like my more left-brain,
technical-minded classmates can. Ironically, the ones I need the most help from
are the ones I despise for being so technical-advanced and uncreative. There
are just so many times where I feel I am too
right-brained for learning computer animation. It's a software field better
suited for computer science majors than artists.
A Superhero Artist
2-21-99:
I’m an undercover superhero
artist. So few know my true identity. In normal life I’m Eric Homan, mere
mortal and ordinary graduate student. Yet when I’m at work creating art with
the power of my imagination, I’m ‘Super Red’. I have such amazing powers to utilize and express in my
artwork. I use the power of imagination and color to do my biding.
Frustration
at My Classmates' Apathy for My Artwork
2-23-99:
It
seems to me that what I’ve learned the most from the people at my graduate
school is the lack of reaction to my work. I know that they’re more technical
than creative, so they won’t get most of it. Yet I want them, too! And when they don’t, I get hurt and work even
harder in order to make them feel something.
It’s been sort of a series of anti-experiences. I’m progressing through
frustration.
“What I Learned During My First Semester in Graduate School”
3-1-99: “I’ve managed to finish a
computer-animated piece that was over a minute long in ten weeks - complete
with audio and titles. I’ve never managed to finish a complete 3-D animated
piece before until I came here. They push you hard and keep you on track about
how far you need to be by a certain point in order to guide you to meet your
deadlines. Intensive as it was, I was hugely pleased with the end result. I
also managed to get a general feel of the Maya software within that first
semester. -Eric Homan”
An Art Battle
3-4-99:
I’ve been getting emotionally
unraveled lately from my more technical, seemingly arrogant classmates, most of
whom I don’t always want to be around because they don’t have anything artistic
or creative about them. They're mostly technical "artists" - yet
they're succeeding more rapidly than I am because they're so technical-minded.
My lack of knowledge of the PC and O2 computers keep overshadowing my Mac
background - and I’m left questioning where I stand as a student. I (naïvely)
believed in Macs were superior because “they’re better for visual artists”.
I’ve recently and gradually discovered that I have been putting up defenses
against my peers tearing me down for using a Mac and, consequently, resisted in
believing that PCs were better. My classmates are almost all using PCs for their 3D work at home to get ahead and bragging
about how fast their systems are. Throughout this week, I’ve discovered great
potential in After Effects, UnrealEd, and still digital cameras (once I had
been shown personally what each can do). After Effects has masking effects that
eclipse the double-exposure techniques I used so frequently in Premiere. There
are just so many new software programs to create in. It’s lonely when people
don’t really care for my interactive artwork that I’ve been doing when it’s
“only” 2D. As if that’s a bad thing!! I feel like people do think that way,
just as those other graduate schools did when they rejected me back in March. I
don’t really know where I’m going and I am very aware of that urgency. I sense
my desperation in my every waking breath. I feel like I’m on the losing end of
an art battle while still fighting valiantly… and perhaps naïvely. Mind you,
I’m not disillusioned. I’m just reconsidering what’s worth my commitment. I
have discovered that without complete knowledge of Maya, one cannot fully
operate and complete a project. I used to think that I knew what I was doing
with computer software. Lately, I’ve lost that naïve pride. I’m back to being a
beginner. And it’s extremely
humbling.
Yet
creative ideas and intuition strike furiously after being bombarded with so
many technical issues for most of the day. Well, I’ve got to be going. I’ve got
a full day's worth of emotional aggravation to burn off.
I
spend my days and nights working on these interactive pieces for no one hardly
but myself and/ or my belief in them. What am I doing them for? Why write these
very words of confession? Why do I
work so hard on these personal projects that no one cares for? I contradict myself
right after this first sentence. My doubts keep reoccurring.
When
people don’t care about my work, I end up "hating" them, and I end up
hating myself as well for that hate. It’s a vicious life cycle I’m living while
realizing it to my fullest awareness tonight. Get back because all the anger
and rage that’s been building inside is spewing out of me!!
My Graduate School Work Schedule
3-6-99: I
was interested in knowing how many hours a week I work on computer related
projects. 8 hours at the lab + 4 hours at home = 12 hours a day. 12 times 7
days a week = 84 hours a week!! I
was so startled that I dropped my 1988 6th grade math calculator to
the floor and broke it.
Struggling with Public Speaking
3-15-99: I gave my
speech on Macromedia Director this morning to my seven classmates and three
faculty… and felt deep humiliation. I used a microphone that ended up muffling
my voice instead of amplifying it because of both technical problems and that I
mumble a lot. Throughout the hour, I tried to “teach” – and I really tired - and found myself
s-st-st-stuttering, …hesitating…, speaking too softly, and slurrring my words. I just don’t have much experience with public
speaking. But I had to do it in order to get the experience of just doing it… no matter how humiliating. All
in all, it’s experience. Yet there
were times when I felt I did a good job speaking, though it wasn’t too
consistently. My thoughts were disorganized and speaking aloud only amplified
my chaotic approach. Not that I hadn’t prepared or didn’t know my material. I
knew what I was talking about quite well. I just had difficulty communicating it all “live” in “one
take”. Still, it’s all about experience.
3-20-99: I sense the danger of replacing
religion with movies. Our dreams and imagination - our escapism - has become
our God... a visible God - and
certainly not a silent God thanks to 5.1 surround sound. Computer-generated
special effects are our miracles. The movie theater is our church. And I am a
guilty convert.
But What About the Art Side of Art?
3-23-99: I
started to feel down from hearing my peers discuss, yet again, computer
technology, their technical abilities, and the huge amounts of money involved
in the field of computer animation. They never talk about art side of it or new ideas, which really drains me and
drives me crazy. So I took my tormented emotions and turned them into anger and
started to express myself through my art instead of depressing myself. I care
more about the art side of things - not how much money I could be making!!
That's what I really care about! Not
these superficial, empty things like my classmates artificially adore.
Get alienated and become an
individual!! Reject your peers who talk
about their favorite porno and software programs. Get artistic instead!
I’ve Learned That I’m Forgetting!
3-24-99: I
keep repeating mistakes... “Error... Emitter was attached to the page!” How
futile! How fragile my mind has become when I can’t remember all these highly
technical skills that I’ve learned. I forget it in one small week and it’s
replaced with some new information. The cycle occurs over and over again. This
is the most important and valuable lesson I’ve learned this semester in
graduate school: I’ve learned that I’m
forgetting! (?) I’ve learned some things - but only lasting as fragments in
my memory if I don’t relearn it until it’s part of my DNA. Nothing is fully understood because it's so hard and I
have such a limited amount of time to do so. What a waste of time! Emotions are the only thing that stays after
“learning” them.
signed F
Needing to Be Productive All the Time
3-24-99: I
freak out whenever I’m not making myself productive. If I go on vacation, I
take cameras along to record any images I might see. If I find myself with
nothing to do, I’d gladly take out the trash. I just want to be useful in some way. Even these words I
write are a mark of my restlessness.
Hopeless Tonight
3-24-99: Feeling pretty hopeless
tonight. (I must be an artist.) I don’t feel like my artwork is getting
through to people the way it is to me. I put so much effort into my art and I
get so few returns.
I remember at the end of my senior
year at my undergraduate school when my interactive art teacher wished that I
would keep making my personal interactive pieces for the rest of my life. It
would be my job... Sentimentally, I wished that too... knowing that it was,
indeed, just a wish.
Considering a
3-27-99: Today, I realistically imagined myself as one of my classmates... without
the burden of emotions, completely willing to work at a commercial animation
production house making lots of money. I really did think of being one of them.
I didn’t have that need I have to create things meaningful to our existence.
Just to be successful as a technically good animator - not to be an artist...
But that was just a thought for today as an alternate reality goal option.
Fulfilling My Life Goals
3-27-99: As of
late, life-defining realizations have come to my mind. I used to press myself
to work so hard to get the attention of some special girl, my peers, my
family... to get into graduate school... to achieve a sense of importance and
greatness. Well, now it’s almost one year later and I’m at a graduate school in
“Introspections”
3-27-99: I remember
how “pure” and “right” I thought my first girlfriend Phyllis was for me. We
never went out and experienced life. We played it safe. ...I remember my mom
telling me that I lived in “My own little world”. I wanted to make my art out
of it… And I also remember everything crashing when Phyllis broke up with me.
She was a good person... and shattered me for my own good. I remember my mom
dying in a sudden car accident. Realizing that someone who was as kind and
loving as she was die so violently ruined aspects of my emotions. How insane to
be rewarded for a lifetime’s work of giving oneself to God and others with such
a senseless death? ...I remember getting rejected by those two
And
why do I write all of this? ...these introspections?
I want to be a writer of ideas and emotions... I want to record my life changes
so I can later understand my growth... I want to someday impress others... I
need introspective self-expression to clear my head... I wanted to break me
down because I felt I was entering a new stage in my life... with a girlfriend,
with graduate school, with a career ahead of me, with a family?
Losing a 100+ Hours of Work on a Hard Drive
3-29-99: At
the computer lab, the hard drive I had been saving two weeks’ worth of rendered
frames wasn’t opening anymore. (!!!) The reality of this set in after five
minutes. I felt faint for panic was unavoidable. A 100+ hours of work - gone. I was helpless. Yet an hour later,
my hard drive magically reopened. I was hugging my classmates out of pure
rapture and confusion. This is part of my graduate school experience.
No One Understands My Animated Artwork
4-12-99: I
hit bottom this afternoon by taking criticism for my computer animation piece,
“Definitions”, which I thought was in very good shape - artistically and
technically. What I found out was that I wasn’t expressing myself as well as I
had believed. All the work that I’d
done, through all the sensitivity, introspection, worrying, effort, and
anguish... unfulfilled and rejected by some of my peers’ critical comments.
What I thought was a good original work didn’t appear completely that way to
them. I was forced to rethink my ideas and concepts. How do I fix my project to
make it easier to understand for average audiences? The stress of having to
change what I thought was already in good shape was causing me a panic attack.
On top of it all was that I was getting critiqued by people who really don’t
have much of fine arts background, which was where my artwork was coming from.
Regardless, I did know they were looking at my work from a storytelling background, and I still needed to work more on getting
my ideas across. Yet I am trying to do animated
artwork. I'm trying to do something different in a medium that has mostly
been used for entertainment storytelling purposes. They've never seen
self-expressive Surrealism mixed with Vincent van Gogh's emotions before with
3D computer graphics. Yet in regards to my own piece, I was stumped of what to
do. How to I fix what others don't understand? If I didn’t know where to start,
what do I do with myself? The mystery of artistic ideas was too much. I've
tried to reach so high with my artwork by merging it with 3D computer animation
that others find it too strange to watch. They want talking 3D animals - not
emotional catharsis through macabre visuals! By expressing things that I don’t
even comprehend but through emotional responses, I was utterly overwhelmed.
There were too many possibilities of
how to do things. I felt “alone” for being the only one to see the world the
way I do and appreciate it. I overlook the flaws because of my imperfections.
Why can’t I do better? Why am I so damned different?!
Is it a matter of having idiosyncratic point of view that few people
understand? That makes me more of an “artist”?!
Of
course, I am exaggerating my life dilemma. How
human can I get?
Worked Up and Introverted in My Art and Studies
4-13-99: Sometimes,
my success can only be achieved by isolating old childhood feelings like awe,
happiness, and imagination in order to work more methodically and longer. I’ve
gotten so worked up in my art and studies that I’ve had to cease from giving
some love and attention to my girlfriend, family, and friends. What a personal
horror. I’ve forgotten friends in order to use all my concentration into
learning computer software and working on creative ideas. I have sacrificed my
life for success in my personal life. I'm aware of that. Yet I have to succeed.
It makes me sick that I don't have it easier. But I knew the sacrifice going
in. And to go on this long journey, I have to psychologically psyche myself up
to working such long hours. So I go inward to feel and be creative. And that
makes me shy, quiet, and withdrawn as a side effect. It's dangerous to go that
direction for too long. Yet I have to keep working! I just have to be careful I
don't go too deep and run out of air. I need to come back up and catch my
breath and be part of the real world again.
Trying to Find Universal Clarity
4-16-99:
And I keep climbing, constantly
working through the day to improve my computer animation. I looked at my
classmate Frank’s computer animation scene this morning and felt belittled by
his recent vast improvements. We were
once on the same level technically. Now my work is looking basic and I have to
play catch-up. I used to feel such
pride in how creative my ideas were. This week I’ve found myself going back and
reworking what I once thought I had expressed quite well. I’m finally accepting
the fact of my failings... and it’s taken me down to a level of ego and
artistic humility. I can only partially say that I know what I’m doing. Art
making and being original is basically guess work. You don't know if it will
work out. No wonder so many artists rip off other artists. I’ve been stepping
outside my work and seeing if it means anything to anyone outside my own self.
I’ve become less critical of my classmates and begun to understand their
strengths instead of noticing what their weaknesses were. I am fighting my way
out of my own immaturity, confusion, and isolation... something I’ve been
trying to do ever since I was young, ever since I learned the ABCs. I used to
not be bothered by the fact that I was so eccentric that no one really
understood me or my artwork. I’m in the
real world now... and that’s for the best so that I can see things more realistically and from a more commercial sensibility. That's probably
been the most important lesson for me in graduate school so far. I want people
to be impressed by my work instead of
perplexed. I don’t want to keep
writing these words and not get a huge response out of the person reading it.
My work is meaningless without both passion and universal clarity!! I have to
make people UNDERSTAND.
Frustrated by the Limitations of My Mind
4-17-99: I
am constantly frustrated by the limitations of my mind. The computer animation
software that I’ve been learning for the past eight months is overwhelming me
still. I feel like I’m learning English, Spanish, Latin, German, Japanese,
Yiddish, and Flemish all at the same time.
One large language system that I can barely comprehend - my maiden languages
are images and music! My right brained side is battled my underused and
underdeveloped left brain for control of my soul and personality. No wonder my
emotions have been feeling like casualties lately. I never
touched the bottom of depression so I waded for hours in frustration and
exhaustion. I hope to be better rested tomorrow to have the will power to go on
once again. I've got to set my mind on that task ahead.
My Emotionally Raw Reaction to the
4-19-99: Any outcast in high school wanted to
kill those who were more popular and picked on them. How dare they degrade us
for being different! The chaos is real in tens of millions of teenagers. We’re
out there... sick of being sick... slowly and subtly going mad from being
mocked and humiliated… of being legally tortured on a near-daily basis by jocks
and conformity. Yet I attacked with art and self-expression. These boys who killed
their classmates in Columbine attacked with bullets. It's
"impressive" that the finally got society’s attention to this
national problem/ epidemic. Yet I absolutely loathe these two outcast teenage boys for attacking with such
reckless feeling and senseless violence. But who's really to blame? Who says it
wasn't "self-defense"?!! Yet in the end, to agree with their
murderous impulses is a total suicidal hypocrisy because they would have killed you, too. They wanted to kill everyone in
the world, no matter who you were, fellow outcast or bully. “People were mean
to me, “ one of them said. I am reminded of the teen black comedy “Heathers”
and Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy” video, both that dealt with teen suicides and taking
violence into high school. I feel like screaming at the jocks: “The problem is YOU!
So what are we gonna do?!” Rather than be more sensitive, I bet their response
would be to beat the outcasts up some more. They're the ones that did the
"killing". Now I’m afraid of the backlash to us outcasts who are
different, have “alternative ideas”, are creative or artistic, dress in black,
and are clearly “disturbed”. If you look dark, people will think you’re
unstable and might blow everyone up. Well, antagonizing those who are
“different” isn’t going to help things!! All I want is for every social group
in high school to at least take some sensitivity training so they don’t keep
this cycle of violence (both physical and psychological) from repeating. The
pain caused the bullying can be external (like what has happened in Columbine)
or internal (teen suicide). I feel in my heart that it will only get worse if
there is no dialogue. If only those two outcast boys had expressed their pain
through art or creative writing or anything, they might not have done the murders
they did. Expressing themselves or talking to others who were willing to listen
and communicate back to them with a certain degree of empathy could have saved
lives, theirs and others.
Straining to Make Friendship and Artistic Connections
4-22-99: All
it took to upset me was the truth: there really are not that many artistic
types in
Attention Deficit Disorder
4-24-99: I admit to
myself now that I have Attention Deficit Disorder. That is why I work
constantly and why I get so upset when I don’t get anything done. That is why I
change subjects at a constant and random order. When I was single I would work
obsessively to get the attention of a girl. When I was in school, I used to
bring in books or videos in which the teacher might enjoy. When I was working
on getting accepted at two graduate schools, I worked every day to the point of
passing out. Getting rejected by those graduate schools devastated me with
failure. It also butchered my personality to the point where I had to change. I
started talking to people and getting out instead of working. I found a woman...
a lover. Lately, I’ve found myself in a graduate school and working just as
much as I have before. Yet I continue asking myself... “What for?” My work is
not leaving an indelible impression like I had hoped so dearly to do. My peers
say I am not expressing my ideas articulately. I must change that. I must dream it all up again.
Panic Attack Fears and Revelations
4-29-99: Today,
my mind swirled with a collage of panic attack fears and revelations attacking
my senses: devastated from sensing artistic bankruptcy… Feeling an inability to
create a piece of art that hasn’t been done… Overwhelmed and unimpressed with
what I’ve created… I could feel my ego bleeding… Wow. No one else really cares
for my work. The emotional sensitivity in my art isn’t reaching people. How do
I solve all these horrible problems? Is there even a solution? How do I get out
of this insanity? I worried. Deeply, deeply worried. These thoughts keep
weighing on my mind. I wish I could get some relief.
Just Steer Your Brain to Being Truly Creative
4-30-99: I’ve grown weary of all the facts about
the left and right brain. We’ve been informed that if you write and draw with
your left hand, you are most likely to be artistic and creative. Well what a
downer for someone right-handed, like me, who aspired to be artistic and
creative! I hated seeing so many left-handed people in my art classes with that
extra edge. After years of
desperation and work, I ended up becoming both artistic and create - and I
still work with my right hand. So there! It’s all about how hard you want it!!!
And that will steer your brain to being truly creative.
“Who Is Your Target
Audience?”
5-4-99: “Who is your target audience?” one of my
classmates asked me about one of my Director interactive art piece. Did critics
ever ask such questions to Van Gogh when he painted his bedroom chair!?! He
painted it because it was beautiful, honest, emotional, vividly painted, and
real!!
“Mad”
5-7-99:
“You have to be crazy to be
creative,” proclaimed Fran McAfee, a professor of mine. “To disrupt the
normality of life with something original and different involves something mad inside the mind.” I agree and work
on... “mad”.
The Risks of Making Art
5-12-99: To
explore emotional and artistic boundaries is to attempt suicide. I’ve been
letting my emotions kill me. I’m an artist, I express that. I’m a failure, I
let myself see that. Just because it is personal doesn’t make it good or
important to anyone else - unless you are a significant and popular celebrity.
There are people just like me writing the same words... wondering, “How do I make it that much better?” My art is about me risking my life to
accomplish a meaning to it. I risk my sanity, my family, my girlfriend, my
financial situation.... I’m doing everything I can to make it work.
Feeling Good Again (After the First Full Year of Graduate
School)
5-21-99: I
don’t recall when I’ve ever felt this good.
(Yes, I wrote “good”!) I feel a great stress has been lightened off of me
these past five days. I wasn’t sure if it was the cold medication I’ve been
taking, but I’ve been feeling rather weird, energetic, pleased, stress-free,
relaxed, creative, controlled, focused, dreamy, and... happy. With “The Beach Boys: Endless Summer” playing in my head, it
feels like summer - like an idyllic
To What Purpose, Art?
5-31-99: I
spent the entire day indoors. At the end of the day, I wondered: “What am I
doing all of this computer art all for? To what purpose? To make myself happy?
To occupy my time? I do not know. To create art that few see and fewer care
about? A journal that no one reads but me and my girlfriend?” When I offer it
to others, they don’t understand. So I humor myself by writing on. I write on
and smile. At least I am getting something wonderful from what I'm making. I
appreciate the imagination and emotion and humor that I express out of my soul
and being. I want to leave my mark.
What Will I Do After Graduate School?
6-6-99: I’ve
been thinking about my future lately... realizing that my academic life expires
once again in just eleven months.
What will I do after graduate school? What will happen to my art if I don’t
have the time, energy, money, or motivation to keep creating? I want to remain
in school to keep working. A job outside of school is the only way to keep
funded. Or I can teach?
“Struggling Artist”
6-6-99: If
anyone was wondering if I considered myself an “artist”, I only do a few times.
Only in rare occasions have I felt that my work had come across and I felt a
sense of pride and awe of creating it. If anyone was wondering what I
classified myself most of the time, I’d say as a “struggling artist”.
“My
(Written
in between my first and second years in graduate school in June of 1999.)
6-8-99: My
experience as a student at the Center for Electronic Communication has been of
growth - technically, artistically, and emotionally. After finishing my
undergraduate studies, I wanted to further express and explore my feelings and
ideas through computer animation and interactive multimedia pieces at a
computer arts graduate school. The Center for Electronic Communication became
my destination by offering a program that allowed each person their artistic
freedom in what they wanted to express through computer animation technology.
The lab provided the most up to date equipment for visual and audio work that
was available to anyone enrolled. Through my first year, I learned Alias/
Wavefront’s Maya in the studio every week day from 8:30 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. It was
a difficult and frustrating challenge; yet, with the helpful assistance of my
instructors and classmates, I managed to go from having little technical
knowledge to being able to use and work confidently in Maya, Unix, Composer,
and other software involving digital video and audio.
To
grow artistically while learning and using so much technology was the
challenging part. Each semester, I had to complete a computer animated piece
with audio that was at least thirty seconds long. I managed to stay on course
artistically and on schedule due to the fact that my instructors insisted that
I have a well thought out, well-constructed storyboard. That way I was able to
orderly construct my piece in the computer and create some finished animation
every Monday in order to be critiqued during out Workshop class. I learned more
about my art from my classmates reactions (they would reveal to me if parts of
my piece were not coming across) and criticism (technical suggestions) than I
ever would have alone. At times, it was hard to take. But I needed their extra
perspectives in order to step back, reexamine my work, and guide it to a
greater whole. Also, the Center had the equipment in order to create the
finished piece I envisioned making (with a sound recording room, audio editing
stations, compositing programs, and editing software) - and put the piece out
professionally onto high quality tape. I spent a great deal of time,
frustration, and stress to get to my end goal. Yet, that end piece was so very
rewarding.
Emotionally,
I’ve grown in learning how to deal with other people’s criticisms towards my
work and understanding why some things don’t communicate. I used to not care if
one of my animated pieces weren’t coming across because it was my vision. I ended up realizing that if
I wanted to have other people to enjoy what I was doing, I needed them to
understand it as well. That led me to focus myself as an artist - to think
about how others would interpret what I was trying to express (especially after
spending so much time on it). Also while enrolled in the graduate program, I
had to give two Seminar speeches to my classmates and instructors that opened
me up to being able to communicate better and more fluently. Giving those
speeches were half fulfilling, half embarrassing - yet they offered me the
confidence and an insight in how to do a better job if I ever decided to become
a teacher after I have finished the program. Without these experiences, I
wouldn’t have grown.
-Eric
Homan -- originally from
Technological Software Overload
6-18-99: I
found myself sinking emotionally in the afternoon. Victor aggravated me by
telling me that I should start learning another new software program called
Flash so we could do a website short movie about the CEC student experience. I
tried asking him about just doing it in Director. “People don’t use Director anymore - just Flash,” he snapped
bluntly. Such news really upset and annoyed me. It was like learning a new
language, and one that I rather liked, and suddenly no one is speaking it
because a new language has along that people like more. So I tried learning
this new program while still learning the tools and trade of Maya, as well as
working with Photoshop, Premiere, After Effects, Composer, Sound Edit 16, Pro
Tools, Painter, and Director. It was like learning one foreign language after
the other until I’ve learned about eight different languages and only
understand two of them. It’s idiotic. You end up forgetting the existing
information in one’s memory in order to have room for the new load of info. I
felt lost in the technology when I wasn’t being creative. Victor then showed me
about a dozen different websites that were using Flash. Some were very impressive, yet they were
exhausting and emotionless. Just Flash.
I Don’t Know What to Do Next
6-25-99:
Ed Skellings, the director of the
Center for Electronic Communication, said it today: “When you go (graduate) and soon leave us, you can take your Barnes
and Nobles Award with you.” Ed didn’t sound like he expected me to hang around
to teach or stay at the Center after I graduate. I felt a renewed sense of
urgency for my future... just like I did in April of ‘98. My God, I felt a
massive change over me. My voice was softer, sobered, and more assured. My
thoughts were coated in sadness and my emotions were trapped in reality. After
I graduate from graduate school, where
the hell am I going and what the hell am I going to do? I don’t live in a
world where being different and creative is good or respected, let alone employable. My money savings is getting
lower and lower and lower. I don’t know what to do next. I listen to my music
and love Bethany (my muse) for my sanity and comfort. Words come out of me like
a hypnotic melody that I can’t stop. My despair is a fish that swims in
literary river. GOD!!
Do You Think There Will Be a Teaching
Job Opening Up?
7-2-99: I asked the
question that Has Been Troubling Me for
Months Now to Ed Skellings: “Do you
think there will be a teaching job opening up a year from now?” He gave me
an honest answer. It all depended on the budget for the school in the next
year, and it involved Ed’s retirement in whether it will be filled or not. I
was glad that I managed to gather up the strength and honesty to ask him about
my future. BUT I HAD TO SOME DAY... some time. He at least knows for certain that I am interested
in teaching at CEC. It would be so convenient and comfortable for me. It would
allow me to continue working on my own artwork after graduate school. That
would be my dream come true.
Something Finally Clicked - My Graduate School
Breakthrough Moment
7-8-99: I am so
happy today. Specifically, I am relieved because I attended a Rhino 3-D
modeling workshop on the 8th floor computer lab where I discovered
that this new modeling program made creating 3-D computer generated models so much easier. Trimming surfaces
together... creating 3-D depth to an image/ photograph... hollowing out a shape
through a boolean command... it’s all so much more intuitive in this software
package. I don’t know how to do everything right off the first day of lessons,
but I did find out that it was all possible and real! This is absolutely great
news for me because I’ve been struggling with learning Maya’s modeling tools.
Today the technology got easier to use. Or maybe something just clicked in my head. Of course having
someone visually give a presentation is easier for a right-brained person like
me to understand compared to having to reach a training manual for months on
end. Now I can learn and use a program that’s 50 times easier to work with and teach its techniques! I see the
possibilities. I feel my confidence growing and building up in a way I've been
yearning to feel for almost a year! What’s more is that I found out today that
I could get a PC to run both Rhino and Maya in the $1,000 to $2,000 range! I’ll
be set! “Two computers for the price of fun.”
Sacrifice My Ambitions
7-16-99: When I got
back to the Center, I was handed a note that I was supposed to call someone
back about teaching at BCC. Such news was a shock to me. I thought the student
assistantships for Caleb and I were going through here at FAU – maybe they
didn’t. The thought of teaching people who don't have artistic intentions
dropped my personal expectations and aspirations for teaching to a new
dreadfully low level. I felt deeply scared. Or maybe I was hurt and confused
about how lowly my teaching job was going to be. What am I going to do? This
was all hitting me so suddenly. I’d rather teach at the Center than a community
college of unexceptional students. I just had much higher ambitions for myself.
I'm terrified of being mediocre.
My Pain Poured Out as Empathy for Vincent van Gogh
7-16-99: This
experience provoked me to write the following dialogue for my Vincent van
Gogh Interactive piece:
Vincent:
“I’m an artist with such high artistic standards and opinions I can’t work in a
non-creative environment... I live off of
being creative... In order to make my art original and interesting, I had
to set impractical goals and commit myself to insane dreams. I built myself up
to become an artist with the riches of emotions and imagination... only to have
to fall back down because no one needed them in art anymore... I aspired too
high in order to create art that was sincere, personal, and universal.... I
learned to feel - and now I don’t know how to go back down to normal. I fear
that I am too eccentric and emotional to work around “normal” people in an
environment where I couldn’t express myself. My only real talent was my
creativity - and it isn’t necessary in the “real world”... I don’t know of any
other job where original artistic ability was part of the job... So to support
myself, I flipped burgers. My co-workers were too diverse and different for me
to feel any sort of connection with them. All I could feel was isolation...
despair... despair... the repetition numbed my mind and tired my body. My eyes
felt burned by the sight of reality. My leg ached for no apparent reason. I
felt an emotional hurricane in my stomach and a tornado depression in my head.
I rarely laughed; and when I did, my laugh was so loud and long people
suspected that I was crazy. I was just so glad to feel something other than
doom.”
Update Letter to My
Former CCAD Interactive Art Professor
7-19-99:
Dear Master Tracy Miller,
I’m
on my way to my second and final year of graduate school and things have turned
out pretty well. I’ve been able to continue doing creative, artistic, and
personal projects through getting a masters degree - which was what I was
praying for. The school I am at is primarily a computer animation lab, so I
picked up learning Maya and have so far completed two animated poems. I am
pleased with them and feel that a 3-D environment is a step I should take in my
work. My next piece is going to be an attempt to create a 3-D animated
painting. I am sick and tired of computer animation being used for special
effects and fancy animation without an original thought.
Even
though - oh! I just remembered that I am finally going to purchase a PC in a
few weeks so I can run Maya at home. Where was I? Ohhh ya - …Even though I’m
doing a lot with 3-D, I haven’t given up on interactive art. How could I if one
believes so much in it. So I’ve pretty much spent my evening and weekends
working on several projects on my own time on my Mac at home. Besides reworking
and refinishing up some of the other older interactive art pieces (“Memoria”,
“The Zoos”) as well as rework my old storyboard piece (“The Falls) and
experimental animation (“Fear of Images...”), I just recently finished up a
mammoth interactive art piece called “Survival Series”. Everything you need to
know about it is in the piece itself - which is another reason why I like
Interactive Art so much. It possesses so many creative possibilities for the
viewer/ interactee to explore and experience. I mailed these pieces to you in
their original Director formats because I thought you might wish to look at how
they were created in case you wanted to show them in your class. I am proud of
“Survival Series” because I pushed Director to the breaking point of how much
memory one project could hold and how many layers it could read. “A lot,” I
found out. It was also a piece I didn't’ believe I could do because of the
amount of work, labor, and imagination it had to take from me. I also used over
one thousand sound effects, vocal recordings, and jingles for the sound mix for
the piece. The sound design mixing was an enormous feat in itself.
I’ve
shown these pieces to my Center’s Director, instructors, and classmates. Even
though they expect computer animation out of me like everyone else at the
Center, they are impressed that I can do something else as far as electronic
communication. It’s also good to have people who have never gone through
interactive experience pieces like my projects and test how they work on them.
I’ve been using the same method you taught me: give them the piece, don't say a
word to them, sit back, and take notes of their impressions as they go through
it.
I’ve
been working at the Center here for the summer, which has turned out quite
good. I’m hoping for a teaching job when I graduate. For several months now, I
have come to the realization that in order to keep working on one’s own
personal work, teaching will be the best career path to take.
Alas,
I must ask of you if you know of any interactive art festivals to submit my
interactive art pieces to. I feel silly with having spent so much time on these
pieces and have no way of getting them shown or getting recognition for them.
I’m proud of these pieces and I know that Director can run on DVD now and the
Internet is getting faster, yet still....
I
guess that’s all I have to say. I’ll be back in
Too Many Responsibilities to Keep Up With
7-20-99: My God! I
have felt the negativity tonight. Money problems... full tuition to pay. Lease
confusion, will I be able to stay or will I get evicted?!? Too many
responsibilities to keep up with. I misunderstood the rules, again. How can
anyone keep up until they become a factory of responsibilities? The speed of
living has me dazed. I'm confused. I’m overwhelmed. It's so hard to be a
right-brained person in this hectic, fast-paced world of too much information.
My Introverted Fantasy World Is Going Extinct
7-21-99: How
am I supposed to be creative when I am bombarded with so many financial
responsibilities? Yiiiieeee!! What happened to my sense of humor? My idealized
dreams are getting crushed by having to go out and teach courses in an
environment where I am not comfortable with. I am afraid and stressed. My
introspective and introverted fantasy world is going extinct. My emotions are
dying for being alien to others.
Holy Huge Turnaround Day
7-22-99:
A lot can turn around in one
daylight day... though some things can’t be changed. After working for five
hours straight last night on my thesis and talking to my sisters and dad about
how doubtful my future is in remaining an artist in the real world, I had to
talk to Diane about where I was standing as far as becoming a staff member in a
year. Shockingly (?!?!), she told me
that there was a very good chance
that a position might open up in one year - right around when I graduate. She further informed me that my chances are great because she believes that what is
lacking at the Center is an artistic,
creative direction to people’s work.
And she wants me to stay around! Well, I... I kept conversing with her about
how I’ve been feeling lately with possibly having to teach courses to people
who are not creatively-minded at the neighboring Broward Community College.
Diane understood. I felt a sense of comfort that I’ve been needing for a long time. I also deeply wished for a
sense of security of what I was doing and pursuing was going to be worthwhile.
Look at all the things I've been doing lately: becoming a Florida resident,
purchasing a $2,000 PC and better learning computer animation in Maya on it,
and spending so much time at the computer lab. I'm making a huge leap of faith
here.
I
also got in touch with my landlord and he’s writing up another one-year lease
for me. So I am not going to be evicted after all. Yet, my Florida in-state
tuition hasn’t changed even after so much trouble and effort to get it changed.
Growing Up a Bit from Desperate
Realizations
7-22-99:
It’s a maturing experience to
struggle... that is why I was so serious and profoundly “awake” and alive (aka
desperate) yesterday. I wasn’t daydreaming through my life anymore. I wasn’t
living in a dream world outside of the real world. Today I felt calmed... less in a humid tropical
abyss. I just was. I needed to be
laughed at and abandoned, lost and uncertain. How else could I grow? I needed
to be shocked in order to wake up. I had to confront failure and uncertainties
I didn't want to face up to. Even though things turned out optimistically, I'm
still glad I went through what I did. I still felt I grew up a bit.
The Price I Pay as an Artist and a Dreamer
7-27-99: I feel that
I am paying a certain terrible price for being what I dream and aspire to be. I
became more assertive and verbal, yet unable to communicate to those who love
me. I became impersonalized, overtly technical, emotionally downsized. And at
the time, I really didn’t feel there was anything wrong with me, though I did
sense something uncomfortable. Have I changed into a better, more critical
teacher and artist. Meanwhile, I'm evolving into someone uncaring, increasingly
analytical, and always working. I sensed that I was married to my computer
technology, books, music, and movies - and not my girlfriend, family, or old
friends. I wanted things that wouldn’t let me down. I let myself be fooled and
blinded by my sarcasm and cleverness. I’ve gone to see movies that were so bad
that I ended up savagely depressed - so I try so hard to stay away from those
kinds of movies that waste away my life. Hence, I've painted myself into a
corner where I only want brilliance. Yet, there's no one else there. I'm alone.
I've alienated myself of the sake of my dreams.
Our
Emotional Landscape
7-29-99:
The universe thrives and
shimmers with our dreams and awe of what it holds - the unknown, the
unexplored, the unchallenged, and the un-experienced. It is our emotional landscape - an alien abyss
sprinkled with stars and human dreams. And within it, I find art. It is my
human duty to transcribe it and express it through my own artwork. I am the
explorer of the new infinite frontier.
My Impetus to Work Harder
8-5-99:
I learned today that my old
classmate/ peer of mine, Mike (Jeff’s roommate) from
Possible Competition for the Teacher's Position
8-17-99: I froze in utter dread at this news: Caleb Strauss told Diane over our lunch break that
someone (Caleb Owens) from outside the Center was looking into becoming a
teacher at CEC. My future possible position was up in the air again... self-doubts of if I had enough
technical information or if I was “good enough”.
A
week passed and Diane responded realistically back to Caleb: “He isn’t on top
of our list of people we’d hire. Why, we could go with someone who has already
gone through the program and knows all the equipment.” That felt very
reassuring and I felt better for the rest of the minute.
Getting My Foot in the Teaching Door
8-19-99: Gracious
news arrived out of Diane’s kind mouth: Caleb and I received our graduate
assistantships. She said that for each semester of we would each receive
$3,500. What a blissful moment of relief. I thought back to over a month ago
when Diane had suggested to me that I try to sign up for teaching graphic
design classes at Broward Community College. Getting this assistantship also
moves me to that much closer to receiving a real full-time teaching position at the
Center next year. I won’t have to drive 30 miles to get a part-time job; I’m
already there. This job means that
I’ll have to work harder and study the books longer. Fine. I’ll gladly do it. I sorta have to anyway as part of
my graduate course.
Fear of Honest Words
8-21-99:
I’m afraid of writing honest
words. A letter with too much truth helped provoke the breakup of a
relationship once, and I don’t want it to happen again. Exposing my despair and
insecurities to those I love is a self-destructive act, or is it a tough-loving
one? I write because I need to exorcise my emotions - get them out of
me before they kill me - death by emotional overstimulation. I have to deal
with them. But... the honesty can tear apart as well as heal. I guess I’m
natural to that sort of conflict.
Continued Teaching Competition Fears
8-23-99: Today,
this Monday, was the first day of my second year of graduate classes. A stress
seized me as I got ready to go to school this morning. I wasn’t sure of what
I’d have to say or teach, being my first day as an official graduate assistant.
Ed Skellings informed everyone that a former CEC intern had left his job in
During
lunch at Hooters by the beach on A1A, Dhruv, an Indian classmate of mine,
surprised me by complimenting me that I was the hardest worker in the lab.
“Thank you”, but I really didn’t think so. “Everyone worked pretty hard as
well.”
Teaching Trial by Fire
8-25-99: I’ve
been working so hard at school and on my thesis storyboard that I haven’t had
time to write.... I’ve been more burnt-out lately than I have in months. Teaching is exhausting work. You
are expected to know nearly everything of what you are talking about.
You have to be at work on time, six days a week. I don’t have that much time to
work on my own work as I used to. My eyes were stinging from working in front
of a computer screen all day. My weekend is now cut in half. But I’m not upset.
I know how fortunate I am to get this teaching assistantship job. I dreamed and
prayed for getting this assistantship! It’s so much better than teaching
non-creative, I-never-worked-on-a-computer types. I’m still amazed that I knew
what I was talking about today when helping my classmates out in Maya.
My Big Breakthrough: Getting a PC
Computer at Home
8-25-99:
Back in April, I had a subtle
emotional breakdown before Frank about not having Maya on a PC to work on at
home like he had gotten. He calmed me down and told me that I was doing great
work already on a Mac and I should be fine. I felt a bit better, though my
worries came back for the 50th week in a row a week later. Of all
the first-year students here in the program, I was the only one without a PC to
work on at home. The isolation had finally gotten to be too much. I constantly
felt like I was falling behind. Luckily, I knew a classmate of mine, James, who
lived only a few blocks away from me who kindly helped me set up a super system
for only $2,350 - nearly half the amount I paid for my Mac just two years ago.
Yet
to my shock, James recently informed me that he got a job in
First Impressions of Teaching
8-25-99: Here’s
how my teaching job as a graduate assistant is going: I’ve never had a real job
where I was expected to work on a constant cerebral, intelligent level.
All my life I’ve had jobs where the work was physical and I worked mostly by
myself, or as a secondary unit person. I usually didn’t have to talk to anyone
else that much as part of my job. How different things have changed so quickly.
Now it’s physical and mental. I have
to know what I’m talking about and give directions clearly, patiently, and slowly to people one-to-twenty years older
than me about how to work in the Maya 3D software. After five hours of constant
learning and teaching one-on-one, you start to get exhausted - emotionally,
mentally, and physically. “How many times do I have to explain the same thing
to eight different people?” YET, what
I keep forgetting is that I am also helping myself re-learn the software while teaching it - something that I would
definitely have to do in my spare time anyway. Teaching is a way for me to keep
up-to-date with the software. I just had to look at it that way and it become a
bit easier to fight through the fatigue and exhaustion. When you’re in the
midst of teaching highly-technical computer animation for nine hours a day, you
forgot about the benefits. It's important to write it all down to remember the
good I'm doing for myself and others. I’ve becoming quicker and speedier on
computers more than ever before - and that’s something to be glad about!
ONE
thing I have lost is a sense of freedom. I am restricted by my responsibilities
of caring for the studio all working day long. A faculty member has to be
present in the studio itself in order for it to be open. So now I get a bit
nervous whenever I go to get a quick drink of water. I have to be at the studio
at 8:30 every morning and can’t easily be late. I’ve lost an hour and a half of
sleep-in time. My graduate assistantship is practically my full-time job while
I’m taking classes full-time. This is also causing a great deal of tension and
urgency to the day. I’ve always gone through each day with the need to
accomplish some amount of artistic work. Art was my alcohol, my drug. Now I
leave the studio weary and quite exhausted. I'm worried now about burn-out and
my own well-being. Yet I try hard not to be down about this since my workplace
is also my school. That helps a lot. Since I'm a graduate teaching assistant,
I'm aware of the irony that my students are now also my classmates. That also
helps to create a more personal, intimate relationship between us. It’s a new
era: a new computer and a new “real” job. I’m still in half-oblivious shock.
It's a new world for me.
My First Full Teaching Experience
8-28-99: My fingers are numb. My entire body
vibrates with exhaustion. This Saturday morning I was at the studio at 8:15
a.m. I didn’t leave until 7:30 p.m. Caleb and I - Graduate Assistants
Extraordinaire! - Taught for close to four and a half
hours to individual students. Since this was their first day, the students
asked so many questions non-stop that wasn’t even able to break for a drink of
water for the entire afternoon. Around 3 p.m., I was trying to help a student
out for over half an hour and realized that I didn’t know how to set keys for
the bouncing ball to squash. Imagine the nightmare irony I was experiencing:
the teacher unable to teach what his students are supposed to know. Maya 2.0
just had so many updates and changes that neither Caleb nor I knew what to do
and Fran, the head professor, had left after his final lecture. I felt an
intense desire to give up. I started referring to the Maya computer animation
text book and tried learning the steps as quickly as possible. Caleb had
managed to pick up on what to do and was beginning to show another student how
to do the squash animation. Since there were over three students looking up at
me in bewilderment and impatience, I got them together to watch Caleb explain
the exercise. To my humbling embarrassment, I was learning right along with
them. Yet when he was through, I sat down with one of the students and worked
it through with her. Then I taught the exercise to another, then another, and
another. I had learned what to do, and hence, could teach it to others. At
least I was able to explain it instead of letting Caleb do all the primary
problem solving.
This
is also an interesting stage in my life for here I am, 23 years old, and I’m
actually younger than some of my students. I must be teaching computer software
that is so new that mainly the young know it best....
My
body is now in a state where if I closed my eyes, I would be asleep in a
moment.
Answering a Major Life Question
9-1-99: A Life
Question hit me tonight while driving home from a classmate’s house: “How did I get here?” How many years had
I panicked with the thought of what I would do with myself as a career? Where
could I go when your hometown is in rural Midwest
I Feel Like I’m Doing Some Good in the World by Helping People Out
9-1-99: As a teaching assistant, I get such a kick out of being
able to answer a student’s question. I feel like I’m doing some good in the world... helping people out.
I also feel smarter as a side result. How horrible, though, when a student asks
me a question and I can’t find an answer or tell them the wrong answer. It
wears my self-esteem thin. It makes me work harder to be a better teacher. But
that's teaching: I'm learning right along with the students sometimes. And
perhaps, that is what keeps things interesting.
My Computer and Life Crashed
9-7-99: I should be in awe
tonight after restarting my Macintosh nearly twenty times in less than an hour. Such numbing and exasperating
repetition was necessary to figure out why my Mac kept not working.
Specifically, this computer that I now type on kept freezing up every time I
tried to boot up. Every freaking time.
I couldn’t even express my frustration through this writing program. I really
didn’t have a clue of what to do. I tried Norton Utilities and Anti-Virus...
changing the extensions multiple times. Oddly, it was through setting the
extensions to a different setting that eventually did the trick. Still, I felt
panic and hopelessness for A WHOLE HOUR. Sweat
and swear words poured out from every pore on my face. What was I to do?
When technology fails, I go down with it. My
life crashed. My creative progress stalled. And I am under a stressful
deadline!! Without my computer, I am unable to fully express myself. One hour,
I am in chaos; the next hour, I am back in normal wondering: “What the %#@&
happened!?!”
Today I Taught a Class All by Myself
9-11-99: For the first time in my life, I taught a class all by
myself. This was one of the hardest steps
in my life - and I experienced it today. I even experienced diarrhea, but
held it in until breaks (no pun intended). Ten students gathered behind me
while overlooking my shoulders to watch me go over some modeling tools in Maya.
When I first began, they humbly requested that I speak up some more. Indeed, I
was mumbling and not speaking with great confidence. After all, this was still
very new and very scary to me. I've got a lot of responsibility to deal with.
I'm in charge of an entire class! So
I tried to speak up and enunciate. Yet a minute later, they asked again. I
cleared my throat again and tried harder. To amplify my voice while trying to coherently explain Maya’s tools was
fairly complicated for me to do. I’m not used to doing something like this.
I’ve never taught more than one person at a time. I've never done such mass
teaching before. I also realized that the computers in the room where humming
pretty audibly and were eclipsing my soft voice. Then they again asked to talk louder.
I could have given up at this point from personal embarrassment. I'm just not
used to speaking up and communicating at such an AUDIBLE level. I'm not
used to talking much at all. I'm a
quiet, introverted person, after all! And I simply have a soft voice in general. Yet I tried my best and valiantly went on
going through the software as loudly and soundly as I humanly could. I looked
around to see if the students were getting
it. They nodded, asked a few small questions just to be certain, and we
went on. They were indeed understanding.
Then and there at that moment, I realized that I was actually teaching people
who were over twenty years older than
me. This was crazy. This was real. Real
Surrealism was realized. I did manage to go slow enough for everyone to
follow along and they did seem somewhat interested in what I was teaching. My
God, I thought, I have students who are in their 40’s.... I’m just 23…. And
somehow I’m holding my own. I kept on going, no matter how scared and stressed
I was. I kept going on. I made a few mistakes. My voice dropped once again a
few times when I was uncertain about a feature in the computer animation
package that I was trying to remember how to explain. Yet I kept going on. I survived.
Graduate School: Year Two - 96 Hours
a Week!
9-11-99: I’ve been at school six days a week, on average ten and a
half hours a day. Once at home, I work around four hours on my work, and on
Sunday nine hours. That means I’m working close to 96 hours a week. This is my graduate school life experience.
"Welcome to the real world."
Stop and Reflect on How "Good" Things Are for Me
9-12-99: I’m a bit amazed how “good” things are going right now. I
may have a long-distance relationship, but we do have better communication
between us that keeps us alive and in love. We got real between us tonight with
a sincere conversation in a good, healthy, and frank kind of way. We didn't
retreat when addressing the faults in our relationship. We confronted the
things we weren't talking about and moved forward. On a professional front,
I’ve got a job as a graduate assistant in an actual M.F.A. graduate program as
well as being part in it. Artistically, I’ve got two computers to work on at
home to keep me caught up on my schoolwork and allow me to express myself when
I need to (as I am right now on my Macintosh). I may be minus a mom, but I’ve
got a dad who supports me and calls me twice a week. I’ve got two sisters who
don’t hate me. They may not fully understand me, but they still love me. I’ve
even made a few friends in a different part of the world,
Living in the Moment
9-20-99:
I do believe that I prefer
myself when I am exhausted, desperate, and emotionally-strained. I am more
serious, honest, and urgent....
Living in the moment - not living in a fantasy world of jokes and escapism -
gives me the focus I need to get more work done on my thesis project. I am
facing my problems with sincerity. ...I’m not acting anymore. I’m stripped raw
to my core. I can address myself and speak to my soul directly. I am giving
every ounce of myself. Maybe it's because I'm in my final year of graduate
school and I know my future depends on it. So I have to give everything I've got. I won't get another
chance at this. I've got to work super hard unto my breaking point. And that
urgency makes life feels so real. I'm aware of everything around me.
More Good News… and More Stress
9-21-99: After I
finished giving a lecture on Artisan Paint Tool, Ed Skellings called me into
his office and suggested even further that he planned to hire me as a teacher
in the near future. “My God” - I’m getting closer to my goal of becoming a
teacher within the “real world”. It’s actually happening. My emotions did their
internal gymnastics as if they were competing for the Olympic gold. Ed
complimented me for being a “better” teacher than Caleb because I went through the
learning steps more thoroughly than he does. (That’s actually a bit of irony
because he knows the material so well and I... well, don’t. So I teach at a
slower pace. Maybe that just gives me more empathy for the students.) As nice
as it was to hear that (considering that I really want to be favored so I can
be hired later on upon my graduation), I was humble in honestly accepting it.
A
pressure was on me for being up on learning Maya better. As a consequence of
that feat, I realized that I was falling dearly behind on my graduate thesis
project. I was having difficulty answering some of my classmates’ questions, so
I ended up calling Caleb over again since he’s so much better technically than
I am with the 3D software. We had hardware problems we couldn’t figure out and
students who were getting upset.
Feeling Much More
Confident
9-24-99: Hi Tracy!
Dropping a line just to let you know that I'm doing quite well this
semester. I'm feeling much more confident with my technical skills in using
Maya - and my creativity haven't been sacrificed. I'm also a graduate assistant
here at the Center teaching Maya to two undergraduate computer animation
courses as well as helping out the first year grad students. There is also a
possibility of becoming a full-time teacher here beginning next school year. I
am pleased with the way things are going. Though working 80 hours a week is an
enormous strain, I'm finding my way through life. -Eric
Gaining and Fulfilling a Sense of Personal Independence
9-25-99: When I was a
teenager, I had dreams that at one point during my life I would find myself at
peace. I feel that lately I have found that destination in my life. I used to
pray to God for a girlfriend. The Answer: Bethany Browning. Amen!! I used to worry myself into despair
in wondering what I would want to do in college and afterwards. Amazing that I
made it through art school and found my way into student teaching at a
graduate/ undergraduate Center for Computer Arts in
Urgency Re-Emerged Into My Life
9-27-99: This morning
everyone at the Center found out that John was planning on leaving for a better paying job at the nearby Ft. Lauderdale Art
Institute. I had worried about this happening. As if Fran, Caleb, and I weren’t
over-worked enough, we will now have to deal with John’s duties. (!!!!) A panic
clouded me all day. I wasn’t sure what to think anymore. We're losing a crucial
part of our team that knows things that only he understands. It’s a lesson I’ve
been learning quite a bit over the past few years: Everyone is just passing
through each other’s lives. Ed asked me again to go to coffee with him. He
complimented me on how up front I’ve been about my feelings and thoughts.
Ironically for me, John’s departure will leave an even wider open door for me
to come in as a full-time teacher/ faculty position. Yet with John's leaving
came doubts within me. I had to reflect on what is more important: teaching in
an art program with a low salary, or working as an art administrator at a
commercial school with a better-paying moderate salary. It’s a conflict
decision, yet I know that deep inside I’d rather stay at a place where art is
more important than just moving students through a two-year art program.
Throughout
last school year and the past summer, I worked with John as his assistant and
co-worker. I’d gotten to know him, like him, and respect him. I haven’t really
been in this situation before... and it’s hard how to feel. If I feel
sentimental, I get into a depressed haze. If I just accept his leaving, I feel
“fine”.
Today was one of those bad dream
days/ daze. I wasn’t sure if what happened was real. I had gotten so used to
relying on John being around to help when the computers weren’t working. Now
it’s going to be up to me and a few others. The learning curve is going to suck
big-time, along with dealing with helping teach classes and work on my graduate
thesis project!!! God help me.
9-28-99: One day my
life is Depression. Two day
my life was Jubilation. Ed Skellings, Diane Newman, and Fran McAfee took Caleb
and I out for coffee this afternoon with a proposition in mind for the two of
us. I figured they were going to discuss the effects of John’s departure from
the Center. As we sat down at a table, I told Diane how depressed I felt last
night. She told me with comforting smile: “You have nothing to worry about. You’re in a wonderful position.” A minute later, Ed exposed why he seemed too
overly gleeful. It just so happened that this afternoon the Center received a
phone call from
Ed
explained all of this to us with such sparkle
in this voice. This meant higher salaries for everyone involved... and then he
asked Caleb and me if we were interested.
The
reason this is such big news is that the Center will be constantly fueled by
outside money from people who won’t take up our time. It works out wonderfully
for both sides. The students/ teachers won’t have to move. We don’t have to
physically teach them. The tutorials are all on the Internet to guide them
along. Diane reassured me again that with a beginning salary of “say... for
example, $45,000 this wouldn’t be a bad deal - plus all the benefits that go
along like health insurance.
The
thought of John’s sudden leaving was eclipsed. I realized then and there how
much they needed Caleb and I for the future of the Center as well. Since John
is leaving soon, they will desperately need someone who knows the Center well
enough to work the video and audio equipment, Maya, Protools, After Effects,
Premiere, Digital Performer, Composer, the digital cameras (video and still),
and every other component to the studio. They need someone that knows all of
this software and equipment - and has
teaching experience. Well, it just happens that we’re both graduate assistants
this year and getting that very teaching experience. Suddenly, everything was
pulling itself together. We had a place - and there was a need for us. My
self-esteem improved drastically.
“You
can count me in,” I said assertively. And that was that.
My Professional Life Solidifies
10-1-99: I
was too tired and overworked to be happy today. I had so many deadlines to meet
I couldn’t reflect on the super news that hit me today….
Ed
asked me out for coffee again this morning and officially informed me that the
Center planned on hiring me aboard the very day
after I get my Masters of Computer
Arts degree. That’ll already be in early May. “Wow.” That’s been my realistic hope and dream for the past year: to
become a full-time, permanent teacher for the graduate/ undergraduate programs.
To teach undergraduate classes is amazing enough - I mean to teach Maya so early in my life. Last summer, I
was terrified I’d be teaching Graphic Design and Photoshop classes at the
next-door community college to students who didn’t feel a damn for real sincere
art. I’m actually at a place where art is pursued
in the emerging and growing medium of computer animation and computer graphics.
I made it to a university graduate program - not some community college. I was
afraid that I’d be searching the country for a teaching job in computer arts.
Now all the time I spend in Maya, After Effects, Protools, Photoshop, and Composer
won’t be in vain. The $2,300 PC I purchased this summer won’t be wasted money.
It was a good, smart investment. And most importantly, my need to express art
won’t be killed off in the exchange of entering into the real world doing
spiritually empty, soulless commercial entertainment products. No matter
how exhausted, impatient, pissed off, aggravated, lost, confused, overwhelmed,
distressed, or “whatever-ed” I get, I can at least be rest-assured that I’ve got my act together - and I’m
pretty lucky about that. I acknowledge that and it keeps me going when I am
weak from over-working myself to exhaustion day after day after day. It’s just
that this success is so subtle when it finally arrived since I was too numb to
feel it after such a long workday….
My Professional Life Over My Personal Life
10-5-99: To
be completely honest with myself, I am actually dating my work first,
Things Breaking Down
10-5-99: Nothing
is certain which is something not to get excited over. At the studio, we’ve had
about four machines die on us in the past two days. Maya would crash while
saving work on multiple stations. My time at working on fixing the computers
has overwhelmed my time at working on my art projects. I’m feeling really burned out lately. John’s been
using up all his sick days this month by not coming in. He’s been leaving the
Center high and dry on how things work and function. It's extraordinarily frustrating!! And Caleb and I are on a
deadline to get our thesis projects finished. John showed us how things work a
couple of times, but sometimes things break down and the way he showed us is
not working. It’s getting close to
impossible. Yet, I still think about the positive side of things to keep my
sanity intact.
I'm Not So Sure Anymore
10-7-99: I'm
not so sure anymore of what I pursue in life - what direction does one choose
when so many appear. John, the video engineer at the Center, found a better job
and just left. I thought he would never leave. I considered CEC to be my
family. With my family and friends far away in
Yet,
I can’t count on everything working out just as I idealistically wish for it
to. I found that out again today when I came to the full realization that I had
lost all of my video work on the G3 that I had been working at for the past
month and a half. “FUCK!!?!!”
I screamed without control after John informed me that there was no way of
getting my work back. It was a technical problem that neither of us understood
how or why it happened. It just did…
and there was nothing I could do to
save my work but do it all over again.
And this was three weeks worth of
video editing and work that had already been done. And I’m on a very tight
deadline to get my work done. My ambitions are ridiculously high. My energy
direly sapped.
And
so, I spent six straight hours
reconstructing my video clips back together. I spoke to hardly no
one. I did not take a single break. I worked as if I was in a trance.
Diane later told me that I kind of freaked her out. I just worked obsessively
with regaining some of the work that I had lost. At least I knew how to edit
the video footage I had lost, which was what took me quite some time to figure
out in the first place. And at least I still had the original video footage on
tape to recapture from. Cynically or realistically, I figured that I would lose
all of that computer work all over again for no apparent reason. Was God fucking with me? Testing me? Was this
sabotage? These things happen every few months after one starts to think that
such a thing could never happen and doesn’t back up their work. Then again, I
was working without a net of backing up my video work because we didn’t have a
hard drive space that was large enough to back up that much work. I remember
trying to copy over some of my video files two weeks ago and the Jaz disk
wouldn’t accept them. Was this Fate
that fucked me?!
A Turning Point in My Life
10-7-99: The
reason I am feeling so confused, desolate, introspective, and reflective right
now is because I’m at a turning point in my life. I’ve been hoping and praying
to get a teaching position here at the Center for the past year. Suddenly, I’ve been guaranteed that permanent teaching
position - and now I don’t know if it’s “good” enough. I could find a job that
pays twice the salary for about the
same amount of labor. Yet, I wouldn’t have the chance to thrive in a creative
environment. SHIT! Just two months ago I was freaking out over considering
teaching Photoshop at a community college twenty minutes away. Now I’m teaching
courses on software I know fairly well... I’ve got a PC and a Mac at home to
work on for my work and personal art... I’ve got free access to equipment at
the computer lab I work at... and I’m in
I’m
somewhat sure that I will stay with the Center for at least two to three more
years. I’m amazed that I’ve gone from considering working at Blockbuster Video
after I graduate to teaching as an assistant professor at an M.F.A. program. I
really didn’t think I’d make it this far - and
yet I still want more. I guess that is John’s recent influence on me for
deciding to leave for more pay rather than stay on. I am so accustomed to being
dedicated to a person (girlfriend) or college (CCAD and CEC) that I’m shocked
when someone decides to “move on” for someone/ something better. I suppose it has something to do with believing in who you’re with or where you’re at - even though
things do go wrong, turn out to be imperfect, or break down.
So
tonight, I reconsidered my position in my life at the crossroads.
I
do feel a bit of letdown every time my interactive and computer animation work
is overlooked when I submit it to so many festivals while my peers get their
work into them. Yet, the disappointment is fading with the repetition of
disappointment. Still, what’s the point of doing all this work when it’s not
getting fully recognized. I know in my heart that it is art – and not
entertainment like my colleagues’ work tends to be. No wonder their work is
more accepted than my own.
Accepting Loss… and Accepted Insanity
10-7-99: I’m
used to watching people leave from my life now. I’ve experienced graduating
from high school and leaving behind the people I spent close to 13 years of my
life with to go the big city for college. I’ve lost girlfriends who I felt that
I had truly loved. I’ve lived through the sudden death of my mother. I’ve
watched my closest friends move away as if nothing had happened. I’m used to
this accepted insanity. I just never
imagined that the people you grow close to can leave you in a moment. Everything around you can and will change.
I’ve found with “maturity” that nothing is certain, and life goes on whether I
like it or not. This evening, I watched the sun set leaving a gorgeous
orange-red horizon.
Today
I spent the entire afternoon reassembling my artwork that I lost, which was my
world, my future... my life. I think I’m almost done. I just don’t want to lose
my art. I don’t want it to go away.
What
does remain in life through change is music, books, movies, and art. That is
why I spend so much time with them - they’re like old friends that I can
appreciate throughout my life. Remember that old song that you loved when you
where young? Hearing it again brings out such a potent nostalgic rush.... They
come back to us.
Is This Too Much for Me?
10-14-99: Another
11½ hour day at the studio... another computer crash with all of my work on it.
This line of computer work is just so defeating. By noon, I just wanted to go
home and be by myself. I kept wondering if I had gotten myself into a job/ life
that was too overwhelming for my body, mind, psyche, and sanity to handle. I’ve
never worked so many hours in my life... close to over 100 per week. I am glad
for some aspects of being at the studio with access to equipment and supplies.
Yet the responsibility involved is getting grueling. As another hurricane hits
outside, I want to rest.
"Is That a Filter?"
10-14-99: My
professor Fran asked me how I did the animated imagery of the face with the
bleeding blush. I informed him I used the Distorto brush in Painter. “Is that a
filter?” he half-mockingly suggested, “It looks like a filter.” That’s how bad
things have gotten for making computer art - every image "looks" like
a filter. Anyone can make an image with a filter that looks like a
Post-Impressionist “van Gogh”. Few seem to be able to see the creative
expression behind making a truly self-expressive computer artwork. Art has become so mechanical and technical-based
that even graduate school art professors can’t even tell the difference between
what is a manufactured style effect and
what is a sincere organic emotional expression made my human hands.
The
Big Breakdown
10-21-99:
I’m an ambitious artist... I’m
working myself up to the big breakdown...
THE BIG
BREAKDOWN!
Here’s
what has happened to me, love: working at school for eleven hours every day has
tightened my nerves to the breaking point. I can’t tell if I want to scream
and/ or laugh. I now understand why most computer animators are demented and/
or emotionally stunted. The computers that surround them crash and die on them
almost like demon-possessed clockwork. The G3 Mac I work on won’t boot up... again. It’s so ridiculously unreliable…
and I’m on a goddamn deadline. I freaked out so many times over so many problems
I’m not sure how I’m doing anymore. I know I’ve got deadlines to fulfill and I
really want to work - yet I just can’t
work when the computer won’t work. If
I didn’t care about my work and these technical problems kept happening, I’d
just shrug it off and blame the Center. Yet the problem is that I want to work. My emotions and ambitions demand it. I sometimes despise John for
leaving the Center when I need him here so much to make the computers work
right. That was his job as the video engineer guy. I can understand and
rationalize him wanting to leave and get a higher-paying job elsewhere. But
he's mostly left us high and dry. I have to work in Maya more and I’ve got all
these technical problems surfacing constantly. I'm also increasingly stressed about
my classmates producing work much more advanced than my own. Even while writing
these words, I felt pain and worry that I should be working in Maya right now. That's how much pressure I'm
feeling. What’s even more ridiculous is that I really wouldn’t want to do
anything other than work on my computer animation. I don’t want to watch
another movie on video, or go to a gym, shop for used CDs, or eat at Taco Bell.
All I really need is to work... and I’m not sure if my mentality and emotional
state has become distorted in the process.
My Day of Recovery
10-22-99:
I should be pleased today that
John came in and I was able to ask him nearly one hundred technical questions... like things Caleb and I needed
to know around the studio and why the G3 won’t boot up. He managed to get 90%
of our questions answered and our problems fixed. I was bombarded with so much
new information and responsibility that I was burnt out by 4:30 p.m. I couldn’t
work, think, cry, or scream. I just wanted to die into sleep. I did get my video work back and the audio matching
it. I would have been happy if I had the energy.
The One Who is Falling
10-23-99:
A fall day breathed into South
The Heck with Hollywood
10-28-99: The Heck with Hollywood: A documentary film about the perils of selling a film in
which individual independent filmmakers have spent around $500,000 to make and
a year to film/ edit/ complete. The most significant suggestion that was spoken
was that the films that they made, even the documentary about them itself, may
not even be seen because no one cares to watch it. That forced to feel... and
care about them. I feel them with my whole heart of empathy... Dateless or
divorced filmmakers listening to Laurie Anderson and admiring Spike Lee.
They’re idealists who have gotten used to rejection as a fact of life. Easily, the most realistic documentary I’ve ever
seen on the discouragement of film making and art-making: the sincere personal
effort of time, energy, money, and creativity that was put into making their
films and discover that they can’t get the film distributed outside the town it
was filmed in. Even film festival awards and rare critical reviews won’t
guarantee a film distribution or notice. Can’t be idealistic! Can’t be discouraged!
Can’t be can’t be!
My Emotions Scream, “BOO!”
10-30-99: What
do I do with my Halloween weekend? Go out with a classmate and have meaningless
chitter-chatter; or routinely stay in my apartment, watch a video, and work on
my computer animation art while listening to yet another CD that I bought
today?? I don’t know what I’m doing or if I’m doing or how I’m doing. I can’t
tell if I’m introverted or smart? My emotions scream, “BOO!” to me.
I Can Survive Anything
11-3-99: I
don’t care anymore about life, dates, deadlines, and seconds passing me by.
It’s only time... and I survived it.
In
fact, I have managed to live through so many hourly crises that I’ve begun to
feel invulnerable. I can survive anything.
Stress is my closest acquaintance. I feel like Jeff Bridges’ airline disaster
survivor character in “Fearless” who survived certain death. Nothing can harm
him! And I feel nothing can now harm me. I've been through so much these past
few weeks.
Get Goofy to Deal with the Stress
11-9-99: Things have gotten so bad I had
to get goofy. I’ve been working from the moment I wake at 7:20 a.m. to 11:30
p.m. During the ten hours I am at school, I rarely get a chance to work on my
own piece. I am constantly being asked questions, dealing with technical
problems, and making jokes about my classmate Juan... to Juan. I now understand
why computer animation teachers act so messed up in the head. Every hour has a
new amount of stress, panic, or turmoil.
Emotionalism
11-11-99: NOW
there has been Impressionism, Expressionism, and Surrealism. My work and van
Gogh’s is Emotionalism - art that
conveys pure, sincere feeling.
Scared of Losing My Creative and Artistic Urgency
11-14-99: Peace
of mind has always been a conflict to me. Being a workaholic, I get depressed
when I am not being useful or productive. Though I yearn for a vacation, I
don’t know what to do with myself when I get it. I enjoy a break from time to
time. But I get scared of losing my creative and artistic urgency - the core fuel of my artistic mindset. I don’t want too
much distraction to enter into my life: family, girlfriend, school, work,
friends, and movies. Sometimes I have to wonder: “Is happiness laziness?”
My Life and Computers Keep Crashing
11-19-99: If I see another computer crash on me, I’ll break down - again.
I watched my own home PC freeze up on me four
times this morning while doing a simple routine render. When I can’t work at
home on my thesis project, I’m lost as far as being able to work to release
myself and to finish my project before my deadline. Once I made it to school, I
found myself working on PCs with their own idiosyncratic problems. Imagine: two
panic attacks at 8 a.m. and 8:39
a.m.? My mind fixated on how easily the things I depend on every day of my life
keep crashing. If I didn’t have someone or something to divert me, I’d probably
lose myself in my own private terror of not being in control. Hence, the
paradox of having a deadline that only crushes you when dealing with computers
that are always unpredictable. Emotions are dangerous when they crash in
reality. In fact, they really shouldn’t be real. They are such a problem when
one has to deal with so much sorrow and problems.
Anyway,
I also found out that “Survival Series”, my painstakingly long interactive
computer game art piece, had several programming problems when I switched the
movie file from Director 6.5 to 7.0. Near Panic
Catastrophe #3. Several
hours and bitter thoughts later, I managed to fix the script and burn the piece
back onto CD.
I’m
so happy because I figured out why my PC has been freezing up - not enough
virtual memory on my D drive. Rarely have I ever been able to figure out my own
technical problems. Tonight I amazed
my own so-called technical knowledge intelligence. Such a weight has been
lifted from my mind!
“Vincent van Dali”
11-21-99: A
classmate called me “Vincent van Dali” after seeing my computer animation work.
I’ve lived my life for that compliment. I've adore both Vincent van Gogh and
Salvador Dali to the highest esteem. Their work and lives have been my role
models. And now I am one with them.
Art Is How I Communicate the Best
11-25-99:
I’m still not sure what made me
feel the most faint last night during Thanksgiving dinner: sailing stories, my
cold, or my persistent headache. It did come to my realization that I rarely
ever tell “stories”. I’m introverted rather than extroverted. I look within
myself and communicate through my art. When asked why I don’t have many stories
to tell about
“Not again, not
again, not again…”
11-29-99: I felt
insanity this morning. Life just plain scared me. The Macintosh wouldn’t
boot up after restarting it - my interactive and video work – my very dreams -
was still on its internal hard drives. I just couldn’t stand the machine
breaking down again. “Not again, not again, not again…” I
cried inside. Dealing in the madness felt like the cruelest of paradoxes. I
really did feel - and act - mad. I
cursed loudly under my breath unable to feel calmness from the fear that I had
just lost weeks or even months of work. It took forty minutes for me to
distract myself from my terror and reconsider this crisis. “I hadn’t lost that
much work,” I tried to calm myself. It was the breaking down process that
stirred me.
Reflect on the Positives
11-30-99: All of my
neglected happiness, I must release my gladness. What it all comes down to is
that if I hadn’t found this graduate program, I’d be shelving books and videos
at the Main Library in downtown
“Professor
Homan”
12-1-99: Today I got
the words from Ed Skellings that Caleb and I would both become associate
professors starting next semester. Professor.
(Yes, we’ll just be “Associate Professors”, but still! It is Professor.) I'm that much closer to my
dream of being a full-time teacher. After so much suffering and anxiety and
misery, I'm finally making it.
The Struggle Continues…
12-5-99: For the fourth day in a row, I’ve been at the Center from 8:30
a.m. to 10 p.m. I’ve had to deal with not just my own computer problems, but
also five other students’ predicaments. Today I did manage to get 50 seconds of
finished animation with audio onto tape. Unfortunately, I still barely had
enough energy to talk to
To Be Lost to Feel More Alive?
12-12-99: Is life more thrilling when you are confused?... When you
feel a panic for being lost?... When you don’t know what you are doing? Yes, it
is. I want to worry to offer my dull life suspense.
I need depression to feel a need to give more love.
To Prove Myself
12-17-99: I
am overtaken by how much computer artwork I must do. I feel such urgency to
prove myself... especially when I have to sit beside Caleb when he keeps
winning major animation international awards. I keep feeling mediocre and keep
seeking some sense of accomplishment aside my own self. It’s maddening to my
sanity. So I keep working and working and working and working….
Searching the Dark Depths of Creative Self-Expression
12-21-99: He
looked deep within himself and realized that tonight he didn’t miss her. Why?
His mind was elsewhere... somewhere
pained and exhausted from what the day had brought upon him. An insanity had
set him free. He spoke with such force and vigor that it surprised him. This
made him laugh for he could never reach such release and catharsis until he
reached insanity. His home computer had messed up his files for no
understandable reason. ? The electricity in his light and fan went off
inexplicably. Writing these words bothered him for wasting his time for
self-realization that puzzled him. His mind was mad. (Or was it simply
searching the depths of creative self-expression so he’d become a great
tortured artist?) He could address topics that had bugged him for weeks. He
could express himself because he didn’t have anything to lose - he had lost
himself. He had to go back inward. The outside was far too unfriendly. The
things he discovered within himself were not kind or pleasant. He knew what he
had said was wrong, but he couldn’t help it... “He couldn’t help it”... He
could have. His true self scared him. The darkness entered his reality and
would haunt him for all his time alive. “I want to be alone!” he screamed
madly. He wished for isolation, but he
knew it would kill him if it were granted. Sometimes he will just have to
go. “HELP”, he universally pleaded, “…help”.
Paranoid and he can’t “help” it. All he could do was sing-a-long to Neil Young
singing “Baby, mellow my mind...” He
knew he was too weak to live alone again.
Now
he is too exhausted to cry, to express, and to explain.
I witnessed and experienced most of
my faults and fears tonight. My consciousness and subconsciousness were wide
open. My emotions were cut apart - dissected.
I was bleeding my internal fears as
literary tears. Isn't that clear?
Uncertainties
12-25-99: I’m feeling
very uncertain tonight. With the sudden change of weather has come doubt and
fears for stability. I don’t know what is going to work out as far as teaching
goes. Am I going to teach the entire Saturday class by myself? How good of a
computer animator am I to actually teach?
How long do I have Caleb around for to help me through the jams where I don’t
know an answer to a question? Why has my PC crashed on me again? (It’s a
perfect mentality to listen to “Radiohead: OK Computer”.)”
Facing Change: An
Artist Having to Deal with the Real World
12-29-99:
My Crisis Point with My Shyness over Teaching Alone: I wore a white shirt today without really thinking
that it might actually symbolize the
state my mind would take through the day. But I cannot ponder too deeply into
that thought for I have to deal with reality... reality... as in coming to terms that I will be teaching, by myself, a class full of students on Computer Animation Basics in Maya. I
really didn’t think it would be so sudden of a change of my job description. I
was a graduate assistant last
semester helping out the students on a one-on-one
basis with Fran giving the main lectures. It was somewhat easy not having all the responsibility of actually
having to communicate the bulk of the class’s information. I just had to help and assist. After coming back to the center creatively and emotionally
exhilarated after watching Being John Malkovich at the nearby Riverwalk
cinema, Fran “informed” me of the news that I’d be on my own - just like I would be at any other school if I were to
graduate and get hired someplace else. He told me that I was getting a good
deal for getting teaching experience before I even leave the door. My naïve expectations
were flashing right before me. I wanted things to be the same forever. Fran
teaching with Caleb and me assisting. I was being spoiled. I’ve got classmates
who are younger than I am who are teaching four undergraduate classes while in
the M.F.A. program. They didn’t freak out. “Just
teach them what you know...” Fran explained to me. “Keep it simple... Don’t go psychotic.” I realized then and there in
his office that I would have to start “maturing” into a more normal,
extroverted person. I couldn’t be slightly mentally unstable, distant,
introspective, quiet, and uncommunicative. There are no jobs for people like
that. I felt just as sobered up as I was when I got the word that I hadn’t been
accepted into grad school in
I
believe what I fear the most about teaching the undergraduate class is that I
don’t always know what I’m doing. Fran gave my “tough love” (as my dad likes to
call it) - I had to grow up the hard way and defeat my fears of talking aloud,
explaining myself, and communicating information. I have to do it. It is my
means of survival.
And
so tonight, I figured out what I fear the most in life: ...change. When my neighbor decides to move, I get anxiety attacks for
wondering if I might get a louder neighbor. When my old girlfriend Phyllis
broke up with me, I freaked out with spells of depression and loneliness for
nine months. When a school semester ends, I despair because I don’t have a
routine of work to do like I did before. Today, change hit me hard again - but
change should do me some good. It may even harm me, but I have to move on if I
want to grow. No wonder I don’t like
to go out of the studio or my home. I want so dearly to stay away from the
menace of outside society – the real world. I am going to have to change. At
some point, I have to move out of my Victoria Park apartment and move
elsewhere, even though it will mean a longer drive. Change may seem bad...
Caleb may just leave CEC after he graduates instead of staying on as a
full-time professor with me... but I have to deal with it maturely. Things
break down... and I have to get back up with my own self-esteem and the will to
go on. Accepting it is part of the growing up process.
I’ve also come to an understanding
that I tend to live in my own fantasy world, my computer and I, where I like to
stay and live in isolation, imagination, and secrecy. I don’t see too much of
Bethany, family, friends, neighbors... or real people. I like to count on music
and movies as my friends through my life so far. I have to start leaving home.
Consider it traveling.
And
what might I just lose for changing: my free
will, my eccentricity, my wild sense of humor, my sense of individuality, and possibly…
even my creativity.
The Great Benefits of Teaching
1-9-00: GOD!
I’ve been going about these teaching feelings all wrong. What a great privilege
to actually help out other people in a subject (computer animation) that I love
- and actually get paid for it. I’d
love to get out of the house for once. I want to be around people! I can’t
stand this solitude for much longer.
Teaching
is also confirming a life-long dream of mine - to act in front of people. I
like to perform. This is my chance to
be an actor. This time I’m playing the role of inspirational teacher.
Rather Be Troubled Than Happy
1-10-00:
I’d rather be troubled than happy.
I don’t mind feeling positive for a night. But if I happen to feel “satisfied”
for several days, I find myself not getting much work done. I guess I need the desperate urgency to stimulate me to
work. I need to sleep by myself tonight. I need to dream alone. I need to make
that journey.
1-11-00:
I felt the major changes in my life today. My adjustment to spending 80%
of the school day working on preparing for the undergraduate animation class
and helping out grad students has been intriguing for me. It’s a job and I
have to do it. I can’t spend my time on just my own artwork and
concentrating on content, concepts, and creativity. I have to write up demos on
how to use the audio equipment, editing video pieces, move computer monitors,
and read computer animation tutorials. At least all this “adjunct professor”
work makes me want to work on my own stuff all the more. Yet I have to remind
myself: my job is now first, my art is second. One supports the other. I have noticed that my confidence in
communicating with other people has grown and matured a great deal in the past
two weeks. The panic of finding out that I would be teaching an animation
course - alone - forced me to act, and change, if I wanted to survive in
supporting myself in this chosen
professional career. Tragically, my introspective personality in which I turn
to in order to create much of my art has become victim to my change of
personality. I can feel it. I’m now acting like an “eccentric” people-person
instead of an “eccentric” anti-social person. And that’s a substantial shift. I
can’t be quiet, shy, selfish, introverted, or depressed anymore around people.
I have to show guidance, inspiration, confidence, and knowledge to those around
me in class and in the M.F.A. program… even if I don’t feel it wholly.
What Am I To Be?
1-11-00: I knew this day would arrive, but at
least I don’t feel as sad and lost as I was for the past six years concerning
my career direction. I spent most of my life wondering what the hell to do with
my life. Inventor? Explorer? Architect? Astronaut? Artist? Writer? Graphic
Designer? Painter? Photographer? Custodian? Movie critic? Computer Lab Monitor?
Children’s Interactive CD-ROM Artist Designer? Photoshop Freelance Artist?
Computer Animator? Computer Arts Adjunct Professor? Professor? I started off as
a Dreamer, and this is where it led
me. Teacher.
Work All the Time
1-13-00: I’ve found out how to gain my confidence and feel good
about myself: work all the time.
Today I was answering so many students’ questions, editing so many videotapes,
and reading so many chapters in the Paint Effects tutorial book that I didn’t
stop and worry about life. Only when I got home, relaxed, and had the extra
time to myself that I started to feel insecure. I lost my psychological
momentum and groove. I wondered if I would be able to speak clearly and
understandably this Saturday during my first day teaching class. I can say that
I am ready to teach the class and I’m pretty much doing the same things I was
doing last semester as a teaching assistant. It’s just that now I’m in the driver’s seat by myself
instead of the passenger. It’s now my
show. It's all in my hands. I have to control and guide the class. I shouldn’t
have much to be concerned with or worried about. Caleb suggested to Karen S.
and I today that when teaching we should
never show that you’re scared or unprepared. Just go on. You’ll do fine. (Now why did I find it
so necessary to write all of this down? Some subconscious fears and
uncertainties that I'm still fighting off…?)
VICTORY! IN CLASSROOM
1-15-00: Just to
record the facts of my first day of teaching a class solo, I awoke at 3:30 a.m.,
tossed and turned nervously until I got up at 6:30 anxious and worried about
teaching by myself and public speaking. I took two more anti-depressants,
gulped down on spoonful of cereal, and found myself vomiting into the bathroom
toilet. Yet, I didn’t lose my confidence in going through with this day.
Cheerios, pills, and shaky nerves just aren’t a good mix.
I finally
taught my first real class all alone. From 8:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., I
lived. Fran came in to
introduce me to the class and let me go. I was a nervous wreck when I first
started teaching a class by myself. I had to perform communicate… speak.
… After a slightly stuttering start,
I explained the class’ syllabus, their final animation project, the Maya
interface, storyboarding your planned project, and some very basic modeling
tools and techniques. I had never knew real throat pain until around noon when
I realized that every time I spoke, my throat stung. I’m just not used to talking this much before. I rarely talk much at all. Now as part of my job,
I had to talk all the time. It was so
alien to me, and I was paying the price for it. So I was unprepared for my
vocal cords to be put under so much stress. That’s what three continuous hours
of vocal lecturing and talking can do. I’m usually a rather quiet person. And
today I was forced to become an extroverted, talkative, congenial teacher and communicator. I was focused and humorous, yet serious and
knowledgeable throughout the class. It’s an odd balancing act, and I think I
pulled it off just right. (Pretty good for an amateur.) I’ve gone from feeling complete terror two weeks ago to feeling
complete euphoria (though mixed with
physical exhaustion and throat pain). I did it. I really did it. Today was on BIG step for me. And I made it.
Today was a revolutionary shock to my system and introverted personality that I
absolutely had to take in order to make it as a professional in the academic
field of teaching. There was no backing down. There was no surrender. I couldn’t go and escape in my little apartment and
do personal, expressive, introspective artwork for all of my life. I had to
make a living and earn a paycheck. And teaching was my desired choice that best
fitted me as a working and productive artist. Class is over. I may not have
taught an “A” worthy class, but I certainly got an “A” for effort and
determination. I bet those who know me best through the years would be shocked
of what I accomplished today as a teacher - a real teacher! Me, Eric Homan, labeled
“the shyest boy from my class in Coldwater”, walked the plank of academia and
managed to take control of a class for an entire day. I alone guided them with
an education and information of 3D computer animation and modeling. It was a
maverick move. Sure, I had some struggles today. As well as taking a deep
breath before I drove to school, I literally vomited up my breakfast from fear of public speaking. But I didn’t
let anyone know that in the class and I didn’t let on how scared I truly was.
The step was taken and I made it. I MADE IT.
I
learned two major experience lessons today:
#1:
I really admire my parents now that I realize how much work teaching and lecturing is.
#2:
As a teacher, always bring some water or tea to drink to help lubricate your
vocal cords. You cannot talk for hours upon end without having something to
water down your throat! Otherwise, you’ll damage your vocal cords and feel
physical pain in your throat all afternoon and evening long. I've very nearly
lost my voice!
Facing the Obscurity of My Artwork
1-17-00: The
general public don’t relate to my art the way the world does to an uplifting
Frank Capra picture like “It’s a Wonderful Life”. I don’t express feelings and
images that everyone can relate to. I make art that a very specific group of
people understand. Yet that is exactly
what makes it so immediate, intimate, and personal. Consequently as a tragic
result, my art is left obscure and mostly unnoticed. I have to find a way to
make people care and like my art! But how do I do that without sacrificing its
integrity and soul?
To Live a Life Remembered
1-31-00: Everyone believes that they’ve got a
book inside them that they feel they should write. Everyone wants to leave
behind some sort of legacy. Everyone feels that they’ve got lots of good ideas,
real creative ideas. No one wants to
be forgotten and leave this life
unremembered --
I Fear
My Own Honesty
2-13-00: A bit lonelier than usual, I
awoke to the wind of my worries. It’s easy to be happy with a fantasy so that’s
right where I went first thing this morning - my computer work. It’s for a
grade and a M.F.A. degree anyway so why not spend my day doing that? Yet
inspiration and energy only last so long and I found myself longing to get out
and take a break. All I could think is that she resents me for all the mistakes
and misunderstandings of the past. If all people act this way, I feel no point
to going into any relationship. I try not to say or feel things that will make
others offended or defensive. I think that critical part of my existence is to
do just that. Lately, a paradox fell on my face as I expressed too much of
myself and found Bethany, my closest friend and lover, hating me for it. I
feared my own writing and feelings. I used to be able to write and write and
write. Without someone caring and giving their love as a means of balancing out
my daily frustrations, I found life terrifying... as anyone would when they’re
alone and sensitive. I’m finding my own honesty all too routine after so many
breakups.
Computer Arts = Little or No Social Life
2-13-00: It
has become an unspoken requirement that if you work in computer animation you
must have little or no social life. Eddie told me that Dr. Skellings explained
to him once that to be an artist, you have to choose between an artistic
vision, a social life, or a girl - and you can only have two. I rejoiced for I knew I had already chosen since I have no
social life. How frightening it was days before when I didn’t have a girl or a social life. I realized now that
the girl fills the empty space of a social life, and that she ultimately fills
the emotional and social void.
I’ve Had Enough
2-18-00: It
all just kept building up and building up until it just finally cracked me. The
stress of working at the Center today was impossible. I’ve had enough. I was
given the task of editing yet another
new student tape to send to the world’s animation festivals. This took up the
entirety of the day when I needed that time to work on my animation piece to
finish by my deadline. In addition, I had to oversee writing out the festival
entry forms - which ended up being done incorrectly - and get lectured on how
to do them correctly again. I had to also help finish up John Childrey’s
animated poem piece, send out my own SIGGRAPH tape as well as fill out the
forms for it, prepare for my demo for tomorrow’s eight-hour computer animation
class, help out the other M.F.A. students with their own problems and
questions, and maybe learn a little bit more about Maya so I can finish my own
thesis animation.
I
am getting paid around $7,000 this semester and working 80 to 100 hours per
week (60 hours at school, 20 to 40 hours at home). My dad even admitted to me
that I "might be being taken advantage of". After Caleb and I had
gotten back from having sushi for lunch and taking an unplanned tour of the Art
Institute, we talked things over about what was upsetting us about our
positions. I’ve had enough. If Caleb
leaves because the pay is somewhat low for the amount of work that we do, most
of his work is going to then fall on me.
And this is while all of John's work fell on Caleb and I after John had left
the Center. I feel like a drowned man being choked, stabbed, and then gutted to
death. I’ve had enough. Ed doesn’t seem to care all that much if Caleb leaves
because then he can “buy more equipment”, for which I will end up having to
learn... and then forget the other equipment and software that I was supposed
to have learned. It's all a cyclic insanity going on! They’ve taken for granted
that Caleb and I don’t have much of a social life. We’re at the Center from
8:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. answering the telephones, managing the equipment,
editing tapes, and helping students -- I can’t handle any more distractions and
deadlines. Caleb and I are still doing Victor’s and John’s work during our
M.F.A. years where we are supposed to be concentrating on our thesis
animation’s content instead of getting so God
damn overworked and distracted all through the work day. And I come home every evening exhausted and worn thin.
I’m ready to quit. I’m ready to be
direct and firm. I have to communicate to them that all is not well. If they
want us to be stable, our job needs to be more stable.
At
least, things are never boring when you’re going insane.
A Future Beyond The Center
2-18-00: I’ve
been fuming now for over four hours. When you worry yourself in anger, time
passes by quickly.
I
shook hands with the head of the computer animation department at the Ft.
Lauderdale Art Institute today and realistically imagined myself working
someplace else other than the Center. Caleb also mentioned to me that there was
a job opening available in the M.F.A. computer arts program at
I Made My Stand and Got My Results
2-21-00:
After a weekend brewing in anger
and resentment towards the Center, I finally managed to tell Diane and Ed how I
felt about being overworked all the time and not getting the appropriate pay
for my labor. They wholeheartedly agreed. I explained quite candidly and
outright my fears and panic concerning the immense hours of work I would have
to take on if Caleb leaves. They understood. In fact, they agreed on giving me
an extra raise to $35,000 (with
benefits $45,000). In addition upon when I graduate, they'd hire me on and I
wouldn’t be teaching the undergraduate classes anymore - just assisting and
helping out with the M.F.A. program. And I would be given time off in May for
vacation time. They also agreed to let the Childrey animation be set aside
until the summer when I have enough time to work on it. I also wouldn’t have to
deal with any more festivals until the summer as well. They understood that
getting my animation done by the deadline in April was top priority. I explained
to them how my overworked schedule was interfering with my personal life with
my girlfriend Bethany, my dad, and friends. One by one, through direct
communication, my problems were being answered and addressed. They even agreed
to my having lab hours for which I would only be asked questions on Tues. and
Thurs. for a couple of hours. I found out that I wouldn’t have to work but on
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday as soon as the fall 2000 semester begins. And I
would be allowed to do my own artwork while I am at the Center. This was all a great
relief. Certainty in my professional life is making a comeback - but for how long?
Creativity Should Be the Star
3-5-00: It is a blessed event when inspiration
touches me. How rare it’s become to gain a creative thought as an adult in the
real world. Money is supported more than imagination.
I'm “Art-Sexual”
3-10-00: I make love to my artwork. No wonder
I make so much of it. The beauty that I can create attracts me to it. I guess
that makes me asexual or “art-sexual”. Creating art is an act of pure,
unadulterated passion. It's the closest one can get to an emotional orgasm as a
human being can experience.
I Desperately Need a Social Life
3-10-00: I’m currently too obsessed and
focused with getting my graduate thesis project finished. It’s been what I’ve
been working towards for years now! I can’t give up. There is no surrender at
this point. I’ve suffered so many breakdowns to give up. Yet my unyielding
dedication to my artwork has had consequences on my social life. By being in
graduate school, I’ve neglected myself the ability to ease down. Frank advised me
to “loosen up” when I talked to him today about my difficulties with being
around people, like not wanting to go see a mediocre movie with a group of
people. I just need to go and enjoy myself more. Stop wanting
"brilliance" all the time. I need to live with the rest of the real
world. I need to escape from the sanctuary of watching movies, listening to
music, and doing art all the time.
Basically, I desperately need a social life.
One of the Largest Main Concerns of My Life Is Taken Care
of
3-13-00: But I can fall back and be thankful
that one of the largest main concerns of my life is taken care of after I
graduate: I have secured a descent teaching job. All I want in my life is to be
useful to other people who need my help. My life would have been so ideal if
things between
“You Gotta Love to Burn”
3-15-00: For over four hours tonight, I burned with loneliness... thoughts of
Bethany... wishing to beg her to come back... precautions to leave her be...
fears that I will be alone for years to come. I know that I am not fully
“compatible” with society and that makes me feel so lost, lonely, and hurt. It
also motivates me to work constantly
- which gives my life some sense of purpose. It’s like what Neil Young says:
“You gotta love to burn.”
Isolation Can Be So Quietly Deadly
3-16-00: What strangles me with loneliness is
that I spend so much time in seclusion and working alone on my artwork. I do
feel a need to spend time by myself to think, rest, meditate, and work. But the
isolation can be so quietly deadly. It’s like a virus or a disease. It can
really make you ill, like your heart will explode or suffocate. I yearn to love
someone who understands me without being too overbearing on me. I’m scared
because I know hardly anyone in their right mind is like that… outside a mental
institution. There is a doom blushing inside of me. And I have to combat it
every day with all my inner strength. But I’m so worn out………..
I Just Am
3-16-00: And then, I hit bottom at 4:22 p.m.
after writing that last paragraph. I was whimpering inside of me to talk to
Life Had Become Comedy to Me
3-17-00: It’s a bittersweet day in my life. I
got “second closure”, went to a park with a classmate friend, had a dead car
away from home, and re-worked my thesis paper.
As
I sat in a daze of exhaustion and relief in getting my car fixed in the Jiffy
Lube waiting room at early evening, I watched the horrific images on the TV
news. An insane man threatens to kill everyone on an Alaskan airplane... a man
with a fake gun held up a National City Bank only to be shot to death by
police... a tornado raged through a Texas town... a tragic failed robbery
attempt in California.... Seeing all this insanely negative news along with a failed relationship and a dead car on my
mind, I started to smile at it all. Life
had become comedy to me. The punchline was that I was surviving all these
depressing, upsetting events that just keep on occurring. It doesn’t matter. It's Just Life. I just have to
emotionally remove myself from it all.
The Pain to Create
4-7-00: To see just how emotionally
frustrated and tormented I’ve been is to see how much artwork I’ve created in
the past few years. I’ve been mighty pissed and passionate. I have found a
companion in art by making love to the creative concept. It doesn’t pay to be
weird because who can truly relate to someone for a long time when they are
unstable? Who wants to be different and feel isolated?!? It’s no wonder so many
people prefer to be ordinary because it doesn’t hurt as much. Maybe I’m a
masochist at heart because that’s what I’m used to feeling – pain. Even though
there is a sense of pleasure in being yourself instead of like everyone else,
loneliness will creep into you as an artist who seeks to do something original.
After a long day at work and extended social coffee breaks, I yearned for some
quiet time alone in my apartment. I’ve had enough socializing, joking around,
and teaching. Just let me lie down. I
don’t want to think about love anymore today. I stayed indoors on Friday and
Saturday nights because I felt that painting
in 3-D space was more exciting than getting drunk and dancing in deafening
club environments. (God, if only libraries had music club environments where I
could meet some hot sexy and repressed young librarians.) I was getting my high and enjoyment out of expressing myself and
doing something that has never been done before. I have to defend
myself because I’m getting frustrated and uncertain from people telling me that
I’m a “loner” for “focusing” on my work instead of socializing. I’m sick of
talking over coffee more than once a day! Enough with drinking coffee and being
cool! Let’s get some work done!!
Is It a Sin to Feel Too Much Inside?
4-8-00: Loss is the greatest and strongest
emotion that I have ever had to deal with in life. My love for her is now just another busted dream along the road. I
go to used CD places to find music that will give me therapy and sonic medicine
for my broken heart: “U2: Achtung Baby”, “Bruce Springsteen: Tunnel of Love”,
“Bob Dylan: Blood on the Tracks”. Dylan’s “Simple Twist of Fate”
speaks the closest and most directly to my heart: “People tell you it’s a sin
to know and feel too much within.” Is it a sin to feel too much inside?
Indeed, it is when no one can handle loving you
back when your emotions are too great for them to deal with. So therefore, you
make art. It is anguishing to feel too much emotion; yet it’s also so
exhilarating. And I apply that pressurized emotional steam into my artwork.
An Artist Is Never Satisfied
4-12-00: If
you’re an artist, you are never satisfied for long. If you are happy with what
you’ve done, you won’t be as inspired since you don’t have anything provoking
you to do better. It’s a cruel, blessed lifestyle to keep doing something
different. Yet you will never be pleased with your work, your lover, your job,
your emotions, your personality, or your life. You will almost always remain
hungry for something new and more exciting. No wonder they coined the term artists
“burn out”.
The “Suicide” of My Artist Personality Side
4-20-00:
I write and write until my emotions calm down until my body starts to fall
over. Yet I cannot rest with the realization that my agony will continue to
tomorrow. This is not my depression that I am plagued with - it is society’s despair. I just feel too
much of it. I am a sponge to its madness. That is what makes “sensitive
artists” so self-destructive. They feel too much for the sake of their art. Yet
making that artistic discovery has made me more aware that being different is
great. Being an artist makes you feel like you have a super-power. You can do
things that few others can. You have creativity beyond belief… along with
super-powered depression to boot. Yet you just have to find a soul mate and
companion who can tolerate you. I cried inside tonight because I sensed that I
did not know anyone who fit the bill. If being an adult in this world means
being desensitized, then I feel that I want out. I do contemplate suicide. Yet
this “suicide” is more about killing my artist personality side than my body.
That is a sentiment of suicidal change that I am being quite sincere to myself
about. But my artist side doesn’t want to die!! So I have to look to art for
help and reassurance.
Securing a Full-Time Job in Academia Right Out of
4-23-00: Yet all in all, despite all my emotional anguish and pains, I am deeply content with the fact that I
have found and secured a full-time academic college-level job that mutually
cares about my needs as an artist. Finding employment that fit my “quirky”,
creative, and artistic personality has been my greatest concern for years now.
It’s plagued me to the point of near fatal depression. How does an introverted
eccentric like me live in an extroverted society? I’ve spent the past year
worrying and wondering if the center would hire me full-time, or if they
planned on hiring someone else like Caleb Owens who had already worked at the
center and in the
The Artist’s Sacrifice of Oneself
4-26-00: I find it hard to be an artist in a world that generally
does not fully understand what it takes out of an artist when you’re giving so
much of yourself to your art. I expose my emotions into my artwork in a way
that leaves me emotionally and physically exhausted. I simply cannot talk or go
out with people when I am in this state of exhaustion. It’s not necessarily
because I’m being anti-social, moody, selfish, or difficult. My body and mind
just can’t handle any more excitement or distress. Artists give too much of
themselves to the point where they can no longer function on a normal basis. We
try to live to our highest potential and the stress of succeeding in what we’re
trying to accomplish does burn us. Dreaming is
dangerous when you actually try to express
it. When you don’t make it work, the devastation is crippling. You won’t make
it if you don’t work intensely and obsessively. That is the sacrifice an artist
makes.
"You Can't Go Back Home
Again"
5-5-00: Upon finishing the craziest
semester of graduate school where I was working 120 hours a week on a deadline
to finish my senior thesis project, I was emotionally, mentally, and physically
drained. After graduation, I flew back to my hometown of Coldwater for a two
week stay with my family. It took me only three hours on the first day back to
be bored with my hometown. There's nothing on TV but numbing mediocrity for the
masses. The people I've known when I was young have moved away or changed. A
stroll through Brodbeck's grocery store and the Coldwater public library
exhilarated me with nostalgic thrill - like a walk through a physical memory.
Coldwater is a town of simple people whose main desires are raising their
children and caring for their lawns and gardens. No wonder I feel so much
happier in
Reflections After Finishing Graduate School
5-9-00:
One of the things I planned to do while in "isolation/ solitude" in
Coldwater was to reflect. Amazing how
so much floods in the mind in a few hours. I've thought about
Art to Orgasm
5-9-00:
I try to have an orgasm while I am making art on the computer. The way I do
this is by getting so deeply moved by the imagination of the piece and being
able to release it as visuals and audio that I glow with pleasure. I listen to the right kind of music while I
work to inspire me to feel at a higher level of emotion and imagination. Hence,
the creativity causes a simultaneous emotional, mental, and physical orgasm.
Now I have to ask: "Who doesn't want to be an artist?"
Art as a Medicine
5-9-00:
Do I have to turn off my emotions to be happy? Yes, sometimes, I do. Do I have
to release my emotions in order to be happy? Absolutely. Art is a medicine I
can afford. Again, I wonder why more people don't make art? Art doesn't
necessarily have to be made to make a profit. In fact, by my definition, that
is a contradiction of what making is all about. You make art for art's sake. It
is to fulfill something deep within yourself. If others feel something for it,
that's great too. And anyone can make art, no matter how much
"talent" you have. It is all about how open you are to expressing
yourself and exploring your inner creativity. It's the medicine to cure your
worries and ills. It is the purest anti-depressant out there. And it's for
free. If anything, start with some crayons, pencils, and some paper.
Positive Employment Direction
5-15-00: Seeing my old best friend Joe Pleiman
last night stimulated me to maturely reflect on the positive direction I've made for myself... with the financial
assistance of my father. Joe had to take a whole year off of school in order to
raise enough money for his senior year of college. When I asked him of our old
friends, he mentioned some of them were still and forever in Coldwater - "DOOMED!" as Joe put it bluntly. If
you don’t leave your hometown after graduation, you’ll probably always stay and
never make anything of yourself. I thought about how if I had graduated from
CEC and was unable to find work I possibly would have moved back to Coldwater
and wait to find a good job which didn’t even exist in this area of Ohio. I am
so fortunate to have been guided in an academic job that still stresses the
artistic side instead of the commercial side. My God, this academic job will save my life. There may have been no other
direction for me to go after graduate school while continuing to express
myself. No commercial company would have taken in an emotional weirdo artist
like me… unless I make some changes to my personality in order to make myself
more stable and mature.
The Cost for the Price of Creativity
5-16-00:
Once you've been possessed by artistic sensitivity, honesty, and vision,
they're no going back. That can be an eternal curse when you find yourself
trying to make a living stuck in work that is completely superficial. You can't
live with it, yet you feel lucky just
to have work. You may be a sentimentalist but only because you feel. What a cost for the price of
creativity....
A New Beginning in Academia
5-19-00:
It was a very good day. Today was my official first day of work at the
Center as a full-time faculty member. I didn’t have any graduate student
project deadlines to worry about. I could work and not have to feel stressed
about students wanting me to help them or losing work or preparing my next demo
for class or figuring out what I had to do next in my animation! I didn’t have
any of that anymore. It was summertime.
Only Fran, Diane, Claire, Ed, Ty, and a few select others were around at the
Center. I even had Ty to help me scan photos. People told me how relaxed I seemed. I felt ready to go out
with people. I almost felt guilty about my happiness. To have no worries... it
has been such a long time since I’ve felt that way. I’m remaining productive
and artistic while opening up to different people and being social. It’s a
normalcy that I’ve yearned for since I was four years old. Though it may soften
my work, I need this change in my life. I can’t go to work looking introverted,
"desperate", quiet, shy, and anti-social every week just for the sake
of being a "deep" artist. I won’t have a job or a life. I need to be
positive-minded and around people. It's a change - a growth - that I dearly
need to take. And I’ve got a good job that I like doing. Thank God I have
friends to be with and talk to - older (Fran, Ed, Frank, and Diane) and my age
(every student at the Center). I’m starting to feel comfortable at last...
until the next trauma occurs.
A “Daily Crisis”
6-9-00: Ed
Skellings and I were having a conversation this morning about men having
midlife crises for not having taken enough risks in their lifetime. We both
laughed for we’ve both had enough crises throughout our lives for taking too
many impulsive chances to even have a “midlife crisis”. We have a “daily
crisis”. I know I’ll never have a mid-life crisis. I’ve been having
enough crises every day.
How I’ve Changed
6-27-00: There
are moments during particular days where I do find comfort in where my life has
built up to. I never expected to be a computer animation instructor. Three and
a half years ago when I first realized that I needed to become an art teacher
in order to support myself financially, artistically, and emotionally, I felt
deep doubt in my abilities to communicate. How
I’ve changed. I’ve gained friends of
such diversity... I feel blessed. I do struggle with my bachelorhood and the
duality of freedom and loneliness it offers me. Though I pained through my
passively rejected feelings for Karen today, I had to realize that I still had
myself. I couldn’t let myself be killed by this pain. I had my health, my sanity, my imagination, and my peace -
not this enduring hurt that aches the emotions. I reject it again and again. I
am independent from drugs, and always have been (in case you're wondering). I’m
independent also from alcohol. I wish I was independent from love. It's the one
addiction I can't seem to get away from. It’s a conflict that certainly makes
me high on eccentricity and weirdness - just your normal reaction to being alive.
Reasons for My “Fantasy World”
6-29-00: Sometimes I will find a role model that
I identify with so deeply my persona evolves closer to who they are by
emotional relation. Andy Kaufman is an excellent example of a performer who is
so charming in his sincere childishness and varied personas that I act like him
after watching him. He made me feel and act “young”, giddy and irreverent. His
“act” is all about play-acting, like
one would when they were young. Instead of being yourself (which is impossible
to do when you’re under ten yours old considering you haven’t been alive long
enough to know exactly who you are), you pretend to be someone else in your own
fantasy world. I love being part of Andy’s “world”. It’s a world without
problems, worries, or concerns. In a sense when I create art, I transform my
persona to be like his and escape into my own fantasy world of my own creation.
It makes me feel alive and new. If I had to choose, I’d rather live in the
fantasy world than in reality. If their mind was open enough, who wouldn’t?! We
all get sick and bored of reality eventually. That is the purpose of movies,
comedians, music, books, or any other form of escapism out there. I’ve been in
such hurt and pain and confusion for so many years now it doesn’t make sense to
stay the way I am. I’ve tried changing and altering my lifestyle to fit in with
society. But it is society itself that should change. So in my fantasy world -
be it in my art or in my imagination - I make it reality.
I Became The
Sacrifice
7-3-00: Through my own doing and through the conflicts that had taken
place in my life, I made myself unlike everyone else. What isolation I brought
myself to wade through in order to pursue my own artistic and creative goals.
My individuality and personal drive had a price on my emotions. Yet, they
produced such works of art and memory journals for those to share and cherish.
My obsessive tendencies to create art enhanced my creative verve. In other
words, I sacrificed my happiness for my art. Ultimately, I became the
sacrifice, whether I wished to or not.
Are We Having Fun or Trying To Have
"Fun"?
7-5-00:
Ain’t it amazing to find out that this wasn’t
where it’s at? After watching Working Girl at the Center, I went out
to Caleb’s surprise birthday party at The Big Pink restaurant at the Ft.
Lauderdale Riverwalk. Afterwards, I felt a wishy-washy curiosity of going out
with everyone to the Iguana Cantina club for talk, techno beats, drinks, and
dancing. I felt embarrassed to be around my classmates who were posing in
motion, dancing like robots on the dance floor. I watched Karen M, Karen S,
Max, Ty, Caleb, and Chung out there looking like they were having fun. Karen M.
was so touchy with everyone. It was like she was hand-shaking people with her
entire body. It was absurd. “You’re wigging me out,” I told Karen. I stood by
my decision to not dance because I honestly can’t fake it to music I don’t feel
for. I don’t want to dumb myself
to enjoy myself. I know better ways
of having a good time. I didn’t feel anything from the music, so the only way I
was able to get out of my seat and dance was to dance as a "joke"
(because that’s how I felt about it).
I danced before Chung and jokingly “tipped her” by putting my credit card and a
$20 in her black dress. I sometimes enjoyed myself when we were all gathered
around and talking LOUDLY over the techno musak. Most of all, I seriously
questioned if my classmates were having a good time because other people
considered this “fun”. Are we having fun or trying to have
"fun"? I have my own definition of "fun", and the music and
attitude wasn’t this. I watched my female classmates, who I’ve felt a certain
degree of deep affection for since my recent breakup with
This
frustration I feel goes back to the experience of finding out that I was voted
“shyest guy” of my high school class. I am not a quiet person the least bit in
private circles or in fantasy... just in the phoniest social corners of
society.
Invisible Art
7-12-00: It’s such bullshit to realize that
people only understand that I work a lot only if they see me physically working
before them in public, like at the Center. They have no understanding of how
much work I do at home: the Director and Photoshop work I’ve done, thousands of
pages of ideas and journals and dream logs and confessionals.... It’s like I’m
doing invisible art. If they don’t see me do the work, it doesn’t exist. Well,
I preparing it for premiere.
Better to Work in Seclusion?
8-1-00: My DVD cover artwork for the Center got “criticized”
today for being “too organic”. With that simple comment, I felt my pride and
confidence sink. I guess I’m not a graphic designer - so my monthly
"experimental" CD case art for representing the Center doesn’t apply
here. They asked me to find someone else who can do design work and that I
shouldn't waste my time. That made me wonder about any of my other CD cover art
projects that I constantly do. Are any of them worthwhile considering that only
a few people see them? Or is that just the way artists have to live? Is it
better to live in seclusion and not listen to criticism that would only stall
your vision? I see the value in "critical advice", but I also see the
danger in it when one fails to fully understand the work they are criticizing.
My CD cover case artwork is hardly "traditional" or commercial -
scrappier in method than professional. It’s a combination of old family photos,
drawings, vibrantly chromatic colors, sketches, recent photographs, and digitally
assembled collages. It’s no wonder I’ve been able to do so much artistic,
“unprofessional” work - I don’t show it to anyone. I just evolved into my own
style(s). Yet I have to ask The Question:
why do the work if no one else, besides myself, appreciates it? How do I make a
living? How do I survive? I write because it keeps my thoughts organized and
expressed. Maybe I do art out of the need for fun and emotional release.
Perhaps you can share in it.
I
suppose I do want to be the next van Gogh... an artist expressing his vision of
what he feels no matter the criticism... it’s Romanticism in my mind of
emotional forms.
Looked Over by Film Festivals
8-1-00:
You really do start to honestly doubt
yourself when endless festivals reject you while your peers’ more conventional
work gets the awards.
8-23-00: Life continues to disappoint me. While my peers’
animations manage to win award after award, my work is passed over. Though
their work is extremely well done and is more accessible for a mass audience,
it doesn’t take any artistic risks or
break new creative ground. I feel that my work is self-expressive and emotive,
yet society still doesn’t know how to react to it. I feel like I’m a victim of
society’s preference for superficial teen pop over raw passion and deep
emotion. No wonder I’m discouraged with submitting my work to film festivals.
11-23-00: After
entering over six computer animation festivals, my “Life Forms” piece hasn’t
won any awards yet. Meanwhile, my peers’ work, being less psychological,
artistic, or emotional, has won multiple times. There are no awards for art
or real emotions.
“All Talked Out”
8-26-00:
I had a mature realization of self arrive to me this afternoon while I watched
Ty talk to Karen Mathieson over the telephone: I don’t call Karen or most
people up all that often because I don’t have anything new or urgent to talk to
them about. I’m tired of beating myself up emotionally because people tell me
that I’m being “anti-social”. I simply don’t have anything important to say some days. My mind is sometimes elsewhere thinking
about life, a movie, or an art piece. My body tires faster and burns harder
than normal people. I don’t talk about bullshit or the weather like normal
people do so expertly. I consider
conversation to be like doing art: when I’m inspired I express myself
enthusiastically, urgently, and whole-hearted. Yet when I am not inspired, I
can’t be expected to be sociable. I’m usually “all talked out”. I’ve
experienced this sort of sad occurrence in my last female relationship. I’d
talk to her passionately for over two hours one night; then two days later
she’d call me up and there would be a deadly silence over the phone. I was used
up two days before. I’m not being "rude" or passive or uninterested,
as some wrongly perceive. I have to rest until I am refreshed again. That's
just the artist in me. You can’t be inspired all the time.
Relationships and Their Consequences on an Artist
9-9-00: I’ve entered a bizarre stage in my life
concerning love. I want to be more out-going, but the outside world keeps
exhausting me down. I’ve got women who are actually interested in me, but I
know that we wouldn’t last beyond two months of interest. I know what aspects
of their lives and personalities that would turn me off (smoking, pot smoking,
poor income, drinking, laziness, ignorance, a serious lack of ambition). I’ve
become afraid of falling in love again now that I know the consequences. I’ve
heard enough tales of divorce and demanding children that seem to destroy a
creative lifestyle in which I’ve adopted. I don’t want love to harm it unless
they fit. I would never have been able to have done as much introspective,
sensitive work if I was around a group of people, or if I had a roommate,
girlfriend, or family taking up my time, passion, and energy. I’m so
sensitive... I’ve stayed single.
Work to Get the Girl
9-12-00:
I do so much work because I’m trying to impress a girl... who I may or may not
have met. There were times in my past where I threw myself into my work to
prove to an ex-girlfriend that I worthy. Art is my way of trying desperately to
get the attention I never felt. So I give my love to my art in order to gain
love from another. I work until the pain subsides. My loneliness inspires me.
I've Got the Time
9-28-00: If I’ve got anything to live for, it’s
for the fact that I am at the height of my creativity and my capacity to create
art. I want to work - I’ve got ideas, resources, energy, and time. Isn't that the most important
thing in the end: time. You can be extremely talented. But if you don’t have
the time to express yourself and make your work come together, what's the
point?
“Blessed
is the man who knows his work.” -Kirk Douglas as Vincent van Gogh in Lust
for Life.
Acceptance and Action - Loneliness
Fuel
9-29-00:
I realize that I suffer from acute loneliness. If I’m going to survive, I’ve
got to do something about it - immediately. I can’t keep allowing myself
to wallow in fantasies and worries. It’s killing
me inside. I've got Loneliness Cancer, you see. Every lonely weekend gets worse
than the one before. I have to keep doing artwork and listen to music to keep
myself sane. God, I’ve done so much work... it’s a testament to my inner
longings.
My Fantasy World vs.
My Reality World
10-7-00: Today, I finally understood my inner conflict:
Daydreaming vs. Emotion... My Fantasy World vs. My Reality World. This is the
fusion and friction that usually occurs in my artwork. There is the reality
that, at times, I am dearly lonely. There is the fantasy that I am comforted by
the emphatic company of dreaming and creating art. The hurt I feel in reality
battles the happiness I feel when I am in my fantasy. Should I feel dejected
when I eat alone at Taco Bell, or a sense of personal and artistic freedom? Naïvely,
I'm lost and blissful either way.
The Urgency Continues…
11-2-00: I have urgency for not having anything
else to do after I go home from work. That is why I continue working on my
personal computer projects. Art has meaning... I just have to enlighten it and
share with others. Tonight I worked the “art” out of me until my emotions and
body were numb and exhausted enough to not feel any more pain. I drove home in
a daze of ache - in head and heart.
My Big, Naïve Fantasy of Returning to My Hometown the
Conquering Artist Hero
11-18-00:
I’d like to go back to my hometown as a famous artist and lead the
Neil Young Empathies
11-19-00: I’ve been
reading a book on the music of Neil Young and have discovered a few things
about myself: I’m also a committed artist and an inspired artist. I constantly
work hard and work only when I feel an idea needs to be expressed. I’m not
creative all the time, though I try to be. I’ve been in two committed
relationships and left them with my insides hurting... I lost. Creating great
art was my revenge. I make “feeling-based” art. It’s best if the viewer is in
the right emotional mood to accept it. “I’m not sorry I made the music I did.
“I didn’t need the money; I didn’t need the fame. You gotta keep changing.
Shirts, old ladies, whatever. I’d rather keep changing and lose a lot of people
along the way. If that’s the price, I’ll pay it. I don’t give a shit if my
audience is a hundred or a hundred million. It doesn’t make any difference to
me.” Walk on, Neil.
I'm an Outcast Mutant Artist
11-22-00: I have always had an interesting empathy for
the X-Men. I often imagine myself as a mutant with the secret power of great
imagination. Because I use this gift to make self-expressive art, I feel like
an outcast. Most people don’t understand what my work is about, which leaves me
feeling lonely and alienated. As a result of being an artist, I feel like my
inner fantasy universe and emotions are a curse. It is these repressed emotions
that leave me burning inside and keep me fighting the great battle...
existence.
Post-Beatles Burnout Warning
11-22-00: After watching
two movies in seclusion at my apartment, I drove over to Borders and read some
art books and magazines, specifically a twelve-page article on the end of the
Beatles. It stated some facts that had been sugarcoated for most of my
knowledge - John Lennon was indeed addicted to heroin and Yoko Ono. He was too lost in his catatonic, blissful state to
be an active part in the group, so Yoko spoke for him. I even read something of
revealing artistic truth: the group arguably broke up at a good time because all
four of them were creatively broke by 1973. Lennon even lost his edge and
creative power after releasing all of his anger in his brilliant “Plastic Ono
Band” album (which was met with public indifference and low sales). These are
all alarming details of artistic history that concern me. Honesty makes me
grow. What if I lost my inner demons to domestic bliss or fame? I’d be reduced
to blandness and laziness. I’ve got to stay hungry by continuing to have
problems?! !
What Social Group Do I Fit In?
11-26-00: I’m a rebel, but I don’t smoke. I hang
out with vegetarians, but I eat meat. I create surrealistic art, but I don’t
take drugs. I love country music, but I also listen to rap. Now what social
group do I fit in?
Once Life and Movies Grew Routine…
12-2-00:
I realized tonight that after the age of eleven, life starts to feel routine
and cliché. The movies I saw when I was young were pretty mediocre, but I still
loved them because I’d never seen anything like them before. Now I expect the
best because I’ve experienced thousands upon thousands of movies. They begin to
feel the same. Life started to repeat itself. Even love is a rerun affair.
Because I’m aware of these clichés, I’ve grown eccentric to disrupt any
familiarity in my life.
No Drugs Necessary
12-8-00: No matter how surreal and bizarre my
work seems none of it was ever inspired by the intake of any drug substance. I
don’t endorse or praise the use of drugs to take oneself to a deeper state of
consciousness. If the artist can’t take their own imagination to that level on
their own terms, they’re weak for not being daring enough on their own
emotional and mental terms. My work is a natural representation of my mentality
from living.
Artists Exist in a Hyper-Sensitive Dimension
12-11-00: I don’t live in the real world.
Figuratively speaking, I exist in a hyper-sensitive dimension collectively
shared by select real artists in touch with their unique emotions. The real
world doesn’t kindly allow sensitivity in it. Art does. So that is where I will
live and be. Because
normal society respects physical beauty over emotional beauty, I don’t fit in.
I know too much truth to ever be like them again. Life has left me as one of
the wise and damaged. Love has left me stranded. My naiveté transformed into
painful awareness.
The Constant Struggles of Being a Self-Expressive Artist
12-14-00: Life is half-great, half-grating. I
have an individual voice and I’m extremely dedicated to my artwork. My artwork
is so different from everyone else’s. Yet I’ve learned loneliness in my life.
Maybe there was no other way. My peers are mostly job/ relationship orientated
- they can relate to each other. I’m starving
for some empathetic company - some people with real passion for art and love.
I’m an artist trying to survive in the “real world”. And my heart keeps aching.
Some
critics say that if you make art it’s just because you have too much extra time
on your hands. That’s a bit too simplified, naïve, cynical, and rude. An artist
has to have the attention span of a flea and have a constant need to change and
grow. Boredom does spawn creativity - because an artist always wants something
new and meaningful out of life. They make a huge personal sacrifice to make a difference by making something meaningful to this world, to this very
existence. The journey will either make you go insane or touch brilliance (or
both).
I’ve been loving my art for so long, sacrificing myself
to emotional canvas. When will it love me back?
My "True" Spiritual Family of Artists
12-18-00:
The question of “family” has struck up upon me this holiday season. Everyone
keeps advising me to spend time with my family. Although my real family and
relatives miss me, I regret that I don’t feel a real emotional connection for
them. I hate admitting that. I truly do. I’ve grown apart from the conservative
ways of my
The Art Suffocation by the Real World
12-21-00:
During an afternoon coffee break, Fran mentioned that if he ever moved away,
he’d live up in
12-22-00: I found out today that I didn’t get into the New
Talent Multimedia festival in
A Dangerous Sacrifice
12-28-00: Since I haven’t pursued a relationship with a woman, I
have concentrated on my artwork and career. It has been a dangerous emotional
and physical sacrifice. My artwork isn’t accepted in the commercial world and
it doesn’t get shown much to be respected or sold. I haven’t had sex with a
woman in over a year. Has it been worth my soul and energy to dedicate myself
to art no one wants? I’m afraid of losing my individuality by going out with
normal women. I can keep focused on my career and my art while looking for a
woman. I can’t distract myself with sexual indulgences, drugs, alcohol, and
partying. I am "the Lamb" (figuratively speaking) - "I am the
sacrifice". But out of my misery of loneliness is such extraordinary
freedom. I’d never have gotten this far with my writing, art, and career if I
had a normal life with a wife and family. So I gladly gave it all up two and a
half years ago.
Anti-Drugs Advice
1-2-01:
Concerning people who think it’s okay to do drugs to loosen up and escape one’s
problems: Don’t tell me it’s human to be stupid. It’s also human to be strong. You shouldn’t have to make your
emotions and mind weak in order to be happy.
Finding Pride in Escaping My Small Town Hometown
1-5-01: Eddie Breman, my old classmate and
friend, and his mother stopped by the Center and had lunch with Diane, Ed, and
I. A conversation was struck upon the hidden envy people have who are from
small towns who admire those who got out, didn’t have children, and lived
outside a safe, domestic environment. Only from other city dwellers could I
have fully realized that insight. Diane was right; they would envy the
adventure and freedom of having taken the harder, wilder course outside their comfort zone. So today, I felt a
newfound sense of pride freshly lit.
My
Audience
My
audience is anyone who appreciates a wild sense of the imagination and
self-expressive emotions. I do believe my work is suggested for the sensitive.
If you have an open mind and are willing to accept outrageous new ideas with
sincere emotions at its core, you will enjoy what my artwork and writing are
about.
1-12-01:
When one asks me what I want the viewer to leave with after experiencing some
of my artwork, I respond: “To have the viewer feel emotionally renewed from
experiencing something sincere, imaginative, and inspired.”
Omens at the Center for My Future
1-19-01: Diane
brought up the fact that the Florida governor has decided to cut 6 million out
of Florida Research Centers. She further advised me that it would be best if I
got my resume out there just in case
they decide to ax my job. I was starting to get the feeling that my job was really in trouble since Ed and Diane
brought up the topic again (well, it
was in the newspaper). I had to calmly wipe the half panic, half excited
desperation sweat off my face. Diane informed me that chances are my job won’t get cut because I’m a teacher as
well as a research associate. In addition, the Center is a Category 2 research
Center, meaning that it’s under the university education system. So far, only
Category 1 Centers have been eliminated. Yet our governor is known for doing
huge, nasty cuts out of programs, unconcerned of who it hurts.
All
this news forced me to accept that I could teach or work someplace other than
South Florida. I do wish and yearn to meet other computer artists. The Center
has been a place of growth for me, though I sometimes want something more. Then again, wouldn’t I eventually
want that at any job? I want to keep
moving on. Who knows where I’ll be tomorrow. It’s a relief that as soon as I
get comfortable and bored, some danger
enters my life. Of course, this change is exciting today. But tomorrow, I’ll be
scared shitless.
Yet
right now, I’m ready and happy for a change.
I’m also distressed over the growing possibility of leaving a place that has
allowed my career and my art to thrive.
I’ve drained all the libraries and used CD stores of all their resources here
in Ft. Lauderdale. I’m also looking for a new area to find more interesting,
artistic, or down-to-earth women. My friend/ student Chris noticed I seemed
different today... as if in a “jolly” sort of mood. He misread my mood switch
for something positive. Actually, my tense mind set from all this job
uncertainty frightened me into an energized state of mind.
I
am distressed and bothered again. I really want to talk with people to relieve
and release the thoughts in my head. I can’t contain them much longer. That's a
good thing, I think. I’m becoming sociable through personal panic and emotional
trauma.
Ed
finally gave me a personalized edition of his “Collected Poems” book written
with “For Eric Homan, my friend and colleague...” It sounded heavily
sentimental and genuine. I couldn’t tell if it was his early way of saying
“goodbye” to me, knowing that my future is indeed at risk.
Atom
told me he has a good feeling about my future. He's such an optimist. I only
have partial amounts of his optimism.
My
new goal for myself is to get outside and be
with people. I’ve lived this loner life long enough. I’m sick to death of
watching movies by myself in my apartment. I’m also at a crossroads of where my
computer art is going to take.
One
thing I’ve learned in life is that I can’t let myself get too psychologically
attached to something or someone. I have to face the fact that jobs and women
go. Ed told me recently that I’d be fine as far as my career goes, saying that
I’ve got the right kind of personality to survive in a department or school
environment. Even with such bad news that I received today, positive words are
spoken. I’m more open-minded than ever to going into a new relationship with a
woman or a new job. I don’t even mind if the woman isn’t an artist - as long
as she liked (good) music and movies. Or maybe she just needs to be
down-to-earth to keep me stable. I’ll move anywhere there is good work and
opportunities. Things have changed. I’ve even looked up Bowling Green
University’s Computer Arts graduate program - and it looks quite impressive!
They do 2-D computer art as well as 3-D. Talking to my hometown best friend Joe
Pleiman who is living in Bowling Green was nice as well. I’ll be “happy”
anywhere I go. I’m more confident than I was last year of myself and how I’d do
in an interview situation at a university. What’s ironic is that Caleb
considered interviewing at Bowling Green nine months ago for their computer
arts program. I’m also considering the 3-D animation program at the Ft.
Lauderdale Art Institute as a possible teaching job... if they have any
openings. I won’t leave the Center unless
they cut my job, though. I feel dedicated to them for all they've done for
me. As with my mother’s death, it took a “fright” to change my life and my way
of thinking. It’s amazing how much my mind has changed in one month. I wanted
everything to be nice and safe for years to come. I shivered with fear when I
heard Fran mention that he might move up to West Palm Beach in years to come.
Now I may be moving away in a few months. Who knows where my future will go?
I
remember back seven months ago when the man in charge of assigning which
benefits I should take came to me and told me that he didn’t think I’d be in a
FAU university system for that long since working in computers is such a higher
salary/ high opportunity field.
All
the problems that the Center has don’t feel as heavy when I’m possibly going to
be someplace else in the next few months.
Insights to Make You Live Before You Die
1-21-01:
I’ve been having this insight lately that when I’m on my death bed and old,
I’ll be looking back at my life and regretting all the things I didn’t do, the
risks I didn’t take, the fear and depression I let myself fall into instead of
enjoying jumping through the hoops life brought me. I looked at my shyness and
couldn’t figure out why I had it when it was obvious that life was understandable in the end. I was going
to die and had to live more than I was. Shyness is a living death. Why feel
this pain? Get ready to live rather than dying.
The Crippling Loneliness
1-21-01:
I’ve been suffering from crippling loneliness lately because I rejected living
a normal life, a domestic lifestyle like the ones I grew up around in my
hometown. I wanted to express myself and become a great artist. The ironic
thing is that I achieved those goals - but it wasn’t enough to save me from the
side effects of the decisions I made to make it this far. The world doesn’t
care for self-expressive art, so my work doesn’t get globally recognized much
(to put it subtly and self-deprecatingly). I used to have a girlfriend who
supported what I do... she’s gone now. I used to have good friends who were
also real artists, but I moved away to go to grad school and stay on for a teaching
job. Those artistic friends are just not around anymore. I’m experiencing a
massive amount of self-doubt from finding myself alone with my job in danger
and my artwork remains unmarketable. Yet what I can feel confidence in is that
I’ve made it this far with my art, my career in a computer field that I can
find academic work in, and my inner satisfaction that I’ve known what it feels
like to be in love. I’m getting along better with my dad than I ever have in
our lives together. Just don’t dream, feel, or love. Those were my only
mistakes, flaws, weaknesses, and miracles.
Being Anti-Drugs
1-30-01: I read through a magazine this evening
at Borders that had an article on drug albums and the musicians behind them. So
many of my role models were listed: David Bowie, Kurt Cobain, Fleetwood Mac,
Oasis, “Long Island Jew” Lou Reed, even “weirdo” Tori Amos. It just made me
alienated from them as artists and “creative individuals”. Sinead O’ Connor was
even quoted to smoke cannabis to “unleash her creative channels”. I guess I
should be proud of not having to rely on substance abuse to be artistic. But
then again, I do take anti-depressants to “mellow” my mind. And I have my own
addictions to fuel my creative urges: a constant supply of high quality movies,
music CD’s, books, as well as masturbation and art-making. I’m still an
advocate of being creative through not
using drugs. Creativity is to be grown by simply living, not from mind-altering drugs. It takes strength to do
something different. That is the true
creativity! Life is surreal and distressing enough to force creativity out of
someone.
I
can’t take drugs because my body is too chemically sensitive to them.
I
never grew up around a drug environment, being from a small Midwestern town in
Ohio; so that’s probably why I feel the way I do. I suppose I’m also angry that
drugs are an easy way out of being creative - an artificial outlet for “Art”. I
truly respect artists more if they can find the power from inside themselves
rather than from some chemical substance.
A Fear of Being
2-15-01: Something odd has occurred to me today:
I realized I have an innate fear of being normal. My personality refuses
mediocrity. When a peer informs me that he proposed to his girlfriend, I was
ambivalent about his news because I see domestic lifestyles as a creative death
trap. I feel a sense of misery every
Valentine’s Day because it’s customary
to take your loved one out to eat or buy them something. Part of me wants to
boycott this tradition as if it were the high school prom. Yet deep down inside
I do wish to fit in. I wish I had a girlfriend right now. Being a workaholic
artist is the best and worst decision I’ve ever made. I should remind myself to
be thankful that my career - hell, my very job - is going well. I’ve gotten
what I wanted. I went through a period where I dealt with the reality of losing
my job, my “social life”, and the artwork I was able to accomplish due to my
work life. A different job would have given me a different mentality, most
probably much more artistically diminished and, hence, "normalized".
I live in simultaneous fear and bliss. I am an artist. If I were normal, I'd be
unable to truly make any artwork or writing that was taken from deep in my
soul. There would be no drive or passion. And I want to be a great artist. It's
in my blood! It's freaking boiling to get out!
Here's
a simply nonsense fable I made up to sum things up about me: "I’ve got an
ear on my neck for no reason. People criticized me for being surreal. It was
just the way I was born."
“Award-Winning” Faculty Member
1-26-01: I
learned today that one of my animation pieces, "Life Forms", won a
Telly Award, which is a television associated branch like the Emmy Awards. I'll
get a $120 statue. Being an “award-winning” faculty member will help me keep my
job. I’ll also get recognized in the school newspaper. The sad thing about this
is that it’s all about presentation and how good you look. If you don’t win an
award, no one notices you.
Adrift on the Ocean of Life
2-26-01: I feel myself drowning in my life. My
art is what keeps me afloat. The ocean is of my own creation. The sharks that
swim around and occasionally bite me are life’s routine problems. I'm tired of
all the blood in the water. I want to get out before I drown. I'd rather be on
the beach sunbathing, yet I'd just get burnt anyways. So I'm still here in the
ocean's depths. Is that a tsunami coming?
"The Incident" and My Innocence
3-27-01: After
walking out of the lab frustrated from trying to synch up audio for the
students' fall animations, I made an offhand remark upon overhearing one of the
custodians tell Claire if she was having a good morning. "Stop flirting
with our secretaries!" I yelled in a joking manner. I tend to exaggerate
for my own amusement. To cope with life, I use surrealism as my means of
escape. I looked over at Claire to wish her a good morning… and she looked
dead-serious pissed at me. "No again," I thought depressingly inside
my head. I felt completely hurt that I had made another feel
"uncomfortable". A half an hour later, Fran called me to see Claire
in her office and she confirmed to me that she wasn't amused at all by my
innocent remark. Claire didn't want that custodian to get "the wrong
idea". And my comment might "provoke" him to act more
flirtatious with her. I knew this was a sad truth honesty I needed to hear.
Sometimes, I accidentally say things that I mean to be funny and nonsensical,
yet people register them without humor. And then their own insecurity
exaggerates the comment in their mind. That scared my sensitivity. I sincerely
listened to her and she understood that I meant it innocently because I didn't
know any better. She talked to me like I was one of her own sons. "I don't
know that maintenance person, he's not even from the same class, color, or
race." Though I've always wished for everyone to be the same, there are
instances where they are not to be mingled. Change and Reality was hitting me.
I had to change immediately. And with all due respect and honesty, Ed hasn't
been the best influence on me for office manners. I admitted to myself that I
have been naïve of people's feelings… sense of humor or not. I had to keep my
distance and show some extra sensitivity. I could not show feelings in the work
place. I needed to have more restraint and control around my fellow employees
and students. As a result, I felt a childish part of myself die a little. I
suppose that was my innocence dying.
I
know what’s happening to me. My individuality and eccentricity are at risk. I
can’t be this loose, wild-and-crazy artist guy anymore. I can’t dress so
casually and wear unironed shirts. I can’t even leave bizarro creative
answering machine messages at my home anymore since a work colleague might be
calling my home phone number. I’m estranging people by being me. My God, that really hurts me most of
all to realize that. I may be overreacting a little bit. But part of me feels
like I’m not. I’m being harmed by being an artist – for being "me". I’m losing my freedom of thought. I want
to hang out with the good people, no
matter their social class. If you work in the university system, you can’t
always mingle or joke with the maintenance department. I didn't have a problem
hanging out or joking around with the maintenance people because I used to be a
custodian myself when I was in high school! Yet now that I'm part of a new
faculty "rank", I'm not expected to be around them "so
much". I was naïvely optimistic about hanging out with everyone. Hell, I
was feeling a bit lonely and could use someone's
company. Could it be that I am learning how to be "superficial" -
and therefore “happy”? People need to be "generic" and
"normal" in order to be "inoffensive". You've got to get rid
of your individuality so you don't offend anyone. I know I’m being a little
"extreme" here, but I'm still trying to make a point.
I
could make a lawsuit for emotional distress and “personality harassment”. Only
if I were some gorgeous charming male would I be able to stay in a woman’s
fancy. I do take some offense to women who feel offended by my normal actions.
They think I’m being too “dramatic” and "weird". If I looked
"hotter", they wouldn't complain. They'd call me "interesting"
and "alluring", maybe even "dangerous" in a sensuous sense.
I can honestly say that some of them do not have a sense of humor some days.
Yet am I acting like a chauvinistic male by assuming that? Am I a pig and a
feminist in the same body? Are we all so innocent and so guilty at the same
time? I want to live in my own fantasy world. Yet other people don’t fit in.
Reflecting on the Eric
of the Future Tense
4-1-01: While
in bed tonight, I thought about how I would be when I reach my old age. I’d be
reflecting back at my life perplexed, satisfied, and regretful. The Eric of the Future Tense felt that I
should have taken more logical chances. He wished I were happier. Sensing the
existentialism, I realized that I was still young and had a chance to make my
life extraordinary. I just needed to remember the urgency and need to take
advantage of the moment without getting accustomed by the realization. I wanted
to call up girls I knew I didn’t have a chance with for a date. It didn’t
matter if I didn’t make it with them. I had to try. I had a chance to be
happy and realize that I’ve got just one life to be happy in. I had to live it and keep that thought fresh with
me for every day I’m alive. I had to get active.
Preferring Art Over Weddings
4-8-01: What is the point to going to weddings,
bar mitzvahs, or social gatherings every weekend? They’re so meaningless. And I
wouldn’t have the right to say that if I hadn’t found something better. And I
have - in art. During the creation
process, I can listen to a wonderful diversity of music or watch a brilliant
movie when I need to take a break. I can work very privately in my apartment
when I make my artwork. Creation feels good. Talking is too expendable. I want
something to last... an aesthetic orgasm that lasts.
I Found a New Religion
4-15-01:
Easter... I barely recognized it. I haven’t been to church in two years. My mom used to go to mass
every morning, seven days a week. Catholicism used to be such a large part of
my life. Oddly enough, once I left Coldwater, I left religion. But I never lost
God. I found my new religion in art.
Embrace Chaos
4-16-01: The thought occurred to me that I might
not want life to be stable at all.
Life is based on chaos. I’ve been fighting for stability my entire life, never
to reach it. If I just embrace insanity maybe then I’ll be in bliss. This is
the key to my artwork - now I want it in my life work. I don’t have to sink
into the depression - I can hug it, wrestle it, fuck it, and love it. It's my
best friend and my worst adversary.
The Love Art Blues
5-12-01: My
libido is at a high point... and tragically, I’m still single. Tonight I
couldn’t shake from feeling lost, discouraged, dazed, and direly lonely. Other
times, I feel so confident and assured. I’m in conflict with a control of
myself. I’m playing the role of the deranged, eccentric, tired, emotional
artist who listens to Chopin loudly while working on his computer art. It's
work I passionately do most every day and don’t receive any money for. Today I
took a “personal day” just to be by myself and whatever interested me today. I
didn’t talk to a single person until tonight. I worked on finalizing my minute
and a half long CG experimental personal animation called “Rainbow Twister
Sex” - but who is it for? Did van Gogh think about his “audience” when he
painted ever so passionately? I'm in a similar state of mind. In reflection,
I’m doing exactly what I’ve wanted to do. I’m doing art in my spare time. Yet
it isn’t enough when I’m not getting recognized or getting my work shown. It
makes me want to work that much harder to get the (artistic and female)
attention I crave and deserve. I feel like overdosing on anti-depressants. Am I
being naïve by living for self-expression?
“I've got the love art blues. Don't know which one to choose.
There's really something to lose with these love art blues. I went and played
too hard, and I lost my mind. Oh, these love art blues leave me a heavy one. My
songs are all so long and my words are all so sad. Why must I choose between
the best things I ever had?” –“Love Art Blues” by Neil Young.
A Quicksand of Sensitivity
5-13-01: Artists
live a life in a quicksand of sensitivity. Look at Michael Jackson, Kurt
Cobain, Elvis Presley, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Vincent van
Gogh.... It's an endless parade of death and self-destruction. Only a few have
managed to survive by leaving the game before the flame took them too.
The Art or The Woman?
5-28-01: As I
felt incredibly lonely this evening, I’ve been having some serious relationship
issue questions in me lately. This afternoon, Chung asked me about if my dad
ever asks me if I had a girlfriend. Is creating art more life fulfilling than
taking five-mile hikes with a significant other (like my sister Tanya does with
her fiancée)? I suppose it’s a matter of who you love more - the art or the
woman. I can go further with exploring the art world than I can with a lover.
Going “domestika” doesn’t suit me. It has its limits. Art, I feel, does not and is infinitely more exciting.
Still, I wish to have both, or a merger of the two with a female artist. It’s a
suffering experience to want the love of a woman when I can’t find her in
Yet
I’ve become such a "great individual" that I don’t quite fit into any
one single group. My reward for being myself is art and loneliness.
Walking the Vincent van Gogh Path
5-29-01:
While proofreading through my journals from mid-1996, I re-learned that I
always felt less artistic compared to everyone else. Phyllis was winning
several awards while I wasn’t. My classmates were getting better grades than I
was. No wonder I’ve been working
constantly and diligently. The psychological trauma of never feeling
accepted has been emotionally motivating me for years to spend more time on my
art. I want the “A” and the ATTENTION
of the class. I was an ambitious kid who never won a trophy or the attention of
pretty girls. Art and imagination have been the only careers I’ve been able to
excel in. “B” students are ignored -
forgotten about! I am in a highly
competitive business in the arts. There is no second place. So I work and work
and work harder. It may just take me years, decades even to achieve my goals.
Yet… am I working hard for recognition, or just general happiness through
having a social life? Because these two paths lead in differing directions.
Working all the time leads to isolation, depression, and chronic out-of-control
loneliness. Yet having a social life leads to moderately successful artwork
that no one will truly care about.
It's
like taking and walking the Vincent van Gogh route: being remembered forever by
bleeding for your artwork with your passion, soul, and grief. Yet if he had
found love and companionship, he probably would have survived. But his
passionate artwork would have suffered and diminished. He probably would have
been forgotten because his tragic story didn't feature a gaudy, controversial
moment like cutting off his ear.
Fun Unexpected Events
5-30-01: I am starting to embrace chaos. With the “stability” I’ve
found in my life through a teaching position and no burdening relationships,
I’ve been wrestling with boredom and loneliness. This morning on my bike ride
back from reading at Borders, my left bike peddle fell off. Apparently a screw
fell off and I had to “bike-walk” myself home. I asked an elderly man outside
my apartment door for advice and promptly drove to a nearby bike repair shop.
Such unexpected events became “fun” to me. I’ve been so tired of my creating
art and work routine. Change happened, my emotions panicked, resolution
occurred, and I experienced life from anew. It was spontaneous, unpredictable
life! I even went to a Spanish-Mexican restaurant at an arty shopping district
with my notebook to write these words. I used to be afraid of eating out by
myself. Now that I'm writing and reading when I'm eating out, I don't feel too
preoccupied with the loneliness of eating alone.
Deep
inside, my insecurities yield me from doing anything daring outside my art.
Today, “chaos” broke me free of my mental slavery.
7-4-01: I confronted a new personal, artistic
challenge and crisis - and I addressed it actively with a fellow artist. While
spontaneously stopping over to visit Alejandro, we got into discussing art,
then my artwork, and finally a disagreement that my artwork “all looks the same”.
“It’s all bright colors and vibrant brush strokes in 3D space. It’s all Vincent
van Gogh influences!” I suddenly realized I had something to prove as a unique
individual artist again. I knew I wasn’t consciously emulating van Gogh’s
style, but I was going for the emotional intensity I saw in his work. I’ve been
holed up in hiding in my apartment working on my art ever since I graduated. I
need to emerge and reveal myself. I need to get recognized and/ or rejected.
I’ve got to stop using images of my family and myself in my work because of
“convenience”. I have to focus on what I’m expressing instead of documenting
emotionally surrealistic ideas.
I
also have to consider my audience for the first time. Why the hell am I making any of this at all if
it’s not going to be shown? Why am I even writing these words?!!
I can’t keep talking to myself forever. I have to gain attention, a social
circle, a lover, and a life. I should
be alarmed that my work isn’t
being accepted. What am I going to do about it!? I’ve been passively
accepting that my work doesn’t affect everyone. I’ve been loathing in that fact
for most of my adult life. I have to merge my art with something that will make
it accessible!!!!!!!!!!!! I also
cannot keep staying the way I am. I withdraw myself into movies instead of
confronting my social shortcomings. I’m frustrated and I have to do something
about it. This
is my declaration of independence from my own passive personality!
God,
I love attacking myself to force my personality to change! I hate being the
same. It’s emotionally and creatively suffocating.
I
found the source of my artistic frustration. I’ve been exerting myself in so
many different areas and styles that I don’t have enough time to finish any of
them. I’ve been expressing all these ideas, but very few of them feel like
anything more than just documented ideas. They’re not commercially ready! I’ve
been taking on literally 200 projects at once and they’re never finished
because I’ve been rushing them through.
The
thing that scares me the most is that I’m afraid of not being interesting or
great. I’ve spent all this time in my life suffering and I want to have
something “artistic” created for it. In the end, I’ve just been self-indulgent.
It took an outsider to notice that in me. I want everything I say, create, or
write to be meaningful, but it won’t be. That’s a humbling thing to realize.
Ah...
the adventure of being lost. Now my nerves are on edge and end.
A Stroll Through My Hometown
7-26-01:
Later tonight, I wondered around Coldwater Park in a fantasy that I was
sleepwalking through my past. I Feel so
different… like a foreigner in my own hometown. So nice to be anonymous in a town where people used to
tease me. At the Shack, I ordered a lime slushy and three Fun Dips, just for
nostalgia’s sake. Yet as I walked along, I questioned why I grew up in this
small town at all. A cruel bitterness saddened me for wishing I hadn’t lived
around kids who mostly expressed themselves in playing sports and drinking
beer. I noticed that teenagers still cruise around this “dead-end” town in
their parent’s cars for fun. Some things never change. It was so peaceful at
the park. I listened to a basketball bounce on the nearby driveway. As I left
Coldwater stadium, a man who was walking his dog said a very friendly "hello!" to me – a stranger. I
wanted to cry. Only in a small town in an unknown part of Ohio could I feel so
welcome and alienated at the same time. I had to tell myself at the end of the
walk: "Carry on, Eric. You’ve done fine. Smile. You’ve made it this
far." And so I walked on.
What If I Had Grown Up in an Art Small Town After All?
7-27-01: Last
night, subconsciously, I was facing the fact that my small hometown was no
longer my own anymore now that my dad has moved away. I felt betrayed and
nurtured simultaneously from all the pain, bitterness, and some friendship I
had learned here. I could have gone to a better school to learn art, but would
that have taken the edge off my artistic drive? Indeed, it’s true. Would have
growing up around "arty" teenage peers have made me a happier person?
Yes… though I presume the drug atmosphere would have stunted or derailed my
ambitions. I’ve been dealt my cards. It’s a funny combination – I suppose,
"I wouldn’t have it any other way." Ha! …Ha.
7-31-01: I came from a heavily
religious family. My father was in the seminary; my mother was once a nun. (So in a sense, I never should have come to be.) I don’t consider myself a very religious man. But
people pray in different ways. I do my praying and expressing through my
artwork. Creating art unburdens the heavy emotions in my soul. I quote a line from the van Gogh movie Lust for
Life: “But I must say what I feel. I’m not an
atheist... I do believe in God - a God of Love. And I believe that there are
many ways to serve him... one man does it through a pulpit, another through a
book or a painting.”
Taking a Stand to Make a Change with My Vacant Social Life
9-14-01:
At seven pee. mmm. I got inevitably restless and biked out to the
"Would You Like Fries With That?"
9-18-01: My email back to my old
boss, Dan Grose, in response to what CCAD could do better to prepare its
graduates for their next stage in their lives:
Ah... I had
forgotten your sardonic sense of humor with cruel, cruel lines like "Would
you like fries with that?" How true.
Seriously, my
biggest wake-up call was that most labs use PCs instead of Macs. All in all, I
can't complain about too much. I got my exposure to storyboarding, animation
basics, computer animation and 3D modeling, video editing, and interactive art
design. Speaking as a computer arts faculty member, graduate school was where
all those classes came together for a focused portfolio and demo reel, which is
what will get you the job in the industry or academic world.
In conclusion, it
was the CCAD faculty's sarcasm that prepared me for the more brutal world. The
whole "Would you like fries with
that?" comment was so terrifying and true that I always worked harder.
No joke. It worked so well to me. Scared me shitless… like it should have.
Eric.
The Sad Irony That Personal Dismay Helps Provoke Art
9-19-01:
I felt pretty bored this evening after work, so I went to work on finishing the
sound design for “Sanctuaries”. Yet I’d rather be out with some male and female
friends. The ironic problem with my situation is that I’ve got a talent for
creative content provoked by internal personal dismay. So giving up one will
dilute the other.
My Continuing War with Myself
9-26-01:
Here is my conflict. I’m at war with myself vs. the world at war with itself.
I’ve decided to be more social with people. Problem is I don’t have a social
group that I can fit in. So I’m stuck at home with myself brooding over my
defeat. I know I can change my mind - but I’m stuck in the heaven of my art
studio apartment. The shear escapism I possess is more dependable and
fulfilling than the relentless discouragement I’ve discovered over and over in
the world outside. I feel like I’m suffocating in both worlds now. I can’t stay
alone much longer.
The
main difference in my mind this week is that I am afraid of my eccentricity and
how it may leave me single for most of my life. Being an individual and an
artist has finally left me defeated while standing triumphant over my creative
and professional accomplishments. I’m starved emotionally and physically for
love.
Like
Janis Joplin, I’m also “tough as nails, but vulnerable”.
“The Bad News Breaks”
9-27-01: At noon, Fran informed me that Florida
Governor Jeb Bush froze the entire budget
of FAU, as well as every state university in Florida. It was due to the
sudden drop in tourism in Florida due to the 9/11 attacks. With so fewer number
of people flying down to stay in Florida, fewer state tax dollars were going to
fund the state universities. “That’s very bad, Eric” he glumly confirmed
to me. While walking over to the Ft. Lauderdale Main Library, I felt like I was
moving in slow motion as if something enormously fatal has occurred in my life.
I still didn't fully understand how bad "bad" was.
Here’s how bad the term “bad” is: Ed came in later in the
afternoon on his day off and sat Fran
and I down in his office. His expression, mute and numb, spoke volumes. I had never seen Ed
look like this before. He looked heartbroken. Ed informed us that 5% of the
university’s budget would be cut. Because of this, the undergraduate computer
arts in animation program that I would direct probably won’t be approved. He predicted that the Center wouldn’t be able to
survive because our budget is mostly being taken up with staff salaries and we
won’t be able to pay for the software. “I don’t know what will happen,” he
plainly professed. Then Ed stared right at me and confessed something
point-blank that made my blood freeze: “They
won’t care about you since you’re first year.” It was like a bad rerun of
last January’s doom-laden meeting with Ed all over again. Suddenly, I was going
to be out of a job and would probably end up moving back to Ohio to try and get
a teaching job at the Columbus College of Art and Design or Bowling Green State
University. It was a reality I may just have to pursue without a second
thought. Today’s news may not be as bad as Ed believes. Sometimes Ed can be
too "doom and gloom". It could also be much worse. Instead of 5%, it
could be 50%! Ed just doesn’t know. It’s
that scary. Hell… well... that’s how
life goes. All of these facts haven't fully sunk in yet. My God, thank goodness
I didn't fall in love with anyone or else we'd end up breaking up because I
might be leaving!
It’s a
frightening position to be in. To not know
what’s going to happen and keep on living… it’s insane, wildly existential, and
alive. It makes the art that I
surround myself with nearly meaningless. The achievements and accomplishments
I’ve made while at this university – the B.F.A. syllabi, the website, the CEC
commercial, the advancements of the Center itself – seem in vain. Defeatism has taken hold of me. I write these words in
increasing agony. It’s hard to take hold of the present tense when the future
isn’t there tomorrow. At least, I got my M.F.A. and teaching experience to take
with me wherever I may go next. For once, I’m glad I don’t have major
commitments with
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Eventually, I
went to Diane about the dire matters at hand. I practically got an opposite response that Ed gave me: “Will
you be affected directly by any of this?” Diane started off, “No. You’ve at least got a yearlong
contract until July. As long as you have classes that fill up, they have no
reason to let you go. The B.F.A. program will probably still be approved for
next semester.” [Upon re-reading this years later, I realize that today was the
day the Center found out that my position was terminated. Diane hadn’t lied to
me at all – up to a point. My job was secure up to July and I’d probably have classes to teach the next semester
if they fill up. She just didn’t say anything about past July.] Upon hearing her
understanding of the news, I wanted to give Diane a massive hug. So I’m
still doing "okay"… at least for the remains of today and the next
nine months. What I know for sure is that the planned lab tech assistant we
planned to hire won’t be because they put a freeze on all new hires. We also
can’t purchase any equipment for the time being (three weeks? three months?).
No one knows how extreme these things are going to be – and that’s what scares
Ed the most. He’s used to being in charge and having his way. He’s currently
helpless and without power. He's just an old man with a title.
Is it right to
live a manic-depressive day? One hour it's work as usual. The next hour, it’s
“goodbye”. The following hour, it’s a "temporary" setback. Who knows
what the next hour with hold?
The rules of
life massively changed today. My introverted art school mentality won’t make it
in the real world. I have to live my life as an extroverted professional - not
an eccentric recluse movie buff computer artist. I worked so hard throughout my
years at CCAD and later in grad school at FAU. Yet what I wasn't fully learning
or preparing myself for was dealing with being extroverted and sociable in the
real world. That was a skill I still needed a lot of work in. My job may change
and I have to move with the times of now.
She doesn’t need me, and I don’t need her. That’s the harsh, cold reality - but I’m fighting back. I'm not giving up
for giving in to despair. I’m growing up on the offensive instead of the defensive
by collapsing into depression. I've got other options out there. I've got other
teaching job possibilities. I don't have to lock myself down so. I can go anywhere.
One's Imagination Is a Party
9-29-01: I’m a
firm believer that the only party worth going to is inside your imagination. To
express it as a work of art is to invite others to that party. Considering how
much art I’ve already made, I love a good party and I’m a generous host.
Too Artistic-Minded to Want to Raise Children?
10-6-01:
At this point, I’m not sure if I could commit to a marriage. I’m too
artistic-minded rather than family/ children-minded in a domesticated sort of
way. When I visit a friend who has excitable children, I lose my patience from
being surrounded by the physical embodiment of chaos. Kids scare me as much as they exhaust me. “Wish I was
alone,” I tell myself knowing all too well I don’t want the solitude either.
(Thank God my computer art keeps me company.)
I Have a Pet Black Despair
10-14-01:
It’s a loneliness I haven’t been able to shake. I must record how terrible I
have felt today with my never-ending isolation that I receive every damning
weekend. I’m sick of rejection and loneliness. Life has been unendingly
surreal. I am a very lonely person at times. I try to be an individual and
express myself. For those reasons, I tend to not get many girlfriends. I can be
extremely unsentimental about life. Other times, I can be crying from
over-sentimentality. I’m losing control of myself because I don’t like who I am.
“All
your dreams and lovers won’t protect you; they’re only passing through you in
the end.” -“Star of
I’m
a very private person. Yet in my art, I open myself up to the audience. They
have a back stage pass to my every emotion, my every secret, and my every
dream.
10-19-01: Sometimes the inspiration is so
profound that I feel enlightened by such an imagination. I feel like I’m a
priest, a holy artist bringing the work of God through means of light, color,
form, sound, and time. I feel blessed to share God’s message through the human
experience. I wonder if I am a minister of creativity, a prophet of
imagination, a soldier of sensitivity. I’m always on the march.
How To Feel Free Inside
10-20-01: I finally
figured it out - how to feel free inside so I don’t always act so shy and
repressed: Life has no point. (God,
I’m going to look back at this and think, “God, I’m going to look back at
this... and sense shock at how truly existential I was.”) That means I can
do anything. Time doesn’t matter. I
don’t owe Saturday night anything.
Art doesn’t matter at all. That’s why I can do anything with it. This
loneliness is crippling my mind. Breaking the rules of control. I smell a
cacophony of perfumes of women I’ve known. I can’t get through
to you. Understand:
it makes me go
insane .
An Artist
with an Audience
10-26-01: I’ve decided
that if I want to be an artist, I better start being one. I can’t stay in my
home anymore doing “experimental” projects that no one sees. I have to make art
that will have an audience – that has a purpose and cause. It’s time to raise
my artistic ambitions to something other people can relate to. Part of my
teaching job is as a researcher. I need to start living up to that position.
Once I become such an artist, I can stop teaching full-time and start getting a
name for myself. Recognition. That’s what I ultimately and ideally seek.
It’s All
in the Mind
11-5-01: I don’t need
painkillers to ease my emotional pain. It’s all in the mind with one’s
sensitivity out of bounds. I can restrict my unfulfilled desires from toiling
me into enhanced, self-inflicted misery. I don’t need it. Freedom is better!! I
have to keep on living with the blind, naïve belief that if I work hard enough
on my art and my job someone will notice and want me.
I Poured My Heart
11-21-01: I poured my heart into my
art. I let my guard down so others could see the truth. I exposed my feelings
of loneliness, vulnerability, spiritual yearning, and love. That was why I was
so devastated when I graduated and discovered that no one wanted personal artwork
that had real feelings. I had matured, but the rest of the world didn’t seem to
notice or care.
12-9-01:
I want to be what people don’t want me to be. I don’t feel a reason to buy
wedding gifts for cousins I hardly know just because they sent me a wedding
invitation to a ceremony somewhere in
My Personal Sacrifice to My Family and Myself
“Not
being able to create art, they will not be able to understand art.” -Charles
Bukowski, poet.
12-10-01: I need to explain some confusion in my
personal life, specifically regarding my conflicted relationship with my
family:
One
day, I returned a phone message from my sister Lara, who ended up
condescendingly pointing out that I haven’t been showing that I care about my
immediate family. To me, I understood why I haven’t been as loving to her, Tanya, or my dad. She
judged me without knowing why. It was an extremely uncomfortable, complicated,
and touchy situation that didn’t have any easy
answers.
Understand
that artists are, in their very nature, self-centered individuals. We desire to
make art about ourselves and want to possess as much time and energy towards
our art as humanly possible. Eventually, it becomes something rather obsessive
where you have to work every day to continue functioning, emotionally and
artistically. Sorry, but it is a highly competitive world out there. I’ve
realized that and sacrificed my personal ties with my family to get to that
level. I wish my deepest apologies towards my loved ones for dealing with my
emotional and physical distance.
It
angers me, though, that I don’t receive the recognition and respect for the
hours of labor I’ve put into my job and artwork. When I was working 80 to 100
hours per week and spilling my imagination and soul into my animation pieces,
did I get any emotional comfort or empathy? None. Except for my peers and
classmates who were doing the same type of effort. I’ve had long conversations
with some of them involving their disappointed feelings towards their families’
timid reactions to their exhausting and wonderful work.
With
a career and art life like mine, I can’t juggle too many balls at once. I can’t
have family and friends in too many places without some of them feeling
rejected or hurt. I imagine this is a problem everyone faces. I simply can’t
keep in constant contact with everyone I’ve known (including sisters, cousins,
aunts and uncles, former best friends, old roommates, college classmates,
childhood buddies, and ex-girlfriends). Some of them had to be “dropped”. I
know I’m dealing with a very, very sensitive area because no one wants to be
forgotten about… especially me. I tend to best keep in contact with people who
are physically close to me - meaning that they are in the general same area
where I live. Understandably, I prefer real physical contact to an impersonal
phone conversation. A long-distance relationship is limiting unless you have
something really interesting to talk about every time you’re on the phone with
that person. If you don’t, it’s strained and dull. For an artist or sensitive
person, it’s like death. So I go
about my day with those around me who share similar interests and pursuits.
(Unfortunately
for me, most of my artist and computer animation friends move away after they
graduate and I’m left searching for a social life all over again.) If I were
living in
Frankly,
if you’re a productive artist who is looking for inspiration, not much is
happening in
12-10-01: Concerning traveling up to visit my family in
Ah
yes, why I don’t come up and visit
Besides
my family, who do I visit and for how long? There is a lack of things to do in
Anyways,
I hope this is making sense and clarifying some things that have sparked
negative feelings through the past few years because of my absence and decision
to become true artist. Pursuing one’s dreams has never been an easy journey. It
almost always involves some sacrifice of those you love in order to meet those
goals. It’s a route filled with heartbreak, isolation, conflicts, compromises,
disappointments, and rejections. Yet it’s also filled with triumphs,
discoveries, enlightenment, inspiration, creativity, and emotions. I’m too far
down the road to stop. I’ve lived and experienced too much to be a “normal”
person again, watching football on Sundays and drinking a beer while the kids
play in the back yard. I don’t want to be that person because I wasn’t born as
that person. I feel different. No lobotomy is going to cure me of that. I feel
that I have something important to say and others believe in my work as well.
Once again, I understand the strain I’ve put upon my loved ones (my family) by
dedicating myself to my job and artwork and not as much to them. I hate to
state it, but Fantasy, Surrealism, and Expressionism is more exciting than
talking about the weather to a group of relatives. I need my time and energy to
spend on my job and art so I can support myself financially, emotionally, and
artistically. Please understand these things! In turn, I understand that I need
to spend more time with my loved ones. I’ll compromise if you can compromise
your feelings of disappointment in my lack of showing attention to each of you.
It’s not exactly personal. It’s just the business of living our lives the way
we see fit. Conservative
family-minded people will laugh, scoff, and complain about this. More liberal
artist people, to some degree, will understand or empathize. I don’t expect you
to because ambitions and dreams get in the way of family, which is, in a way, a
sin. Well, I believe my dreams are good and worthwhile. The sacrifice is what
I’m belatedly clarifying on. Because I’m still young and I haven’t gotten much
attention or recognition for my artwork, it’s hard for others to see why I keep
writing and making art. Another dream of mine is that some day all of you will.
My
mom used to be my biggest supporter of my artwork, even though she didn’t
entirely understand what I was doing or where I was going with it. I didn’t
realize how much that meant to me until she was gone. Since her death, I’ve
been having to self-motivate myself to do the work I’ve done and the hurdles
I’ve had to overcome along the way. I know she’d be thrilled with what I’ve
accomplished and how far I’ve gone. I hope you are, too.
Let
it be known that sometimes I will become obsessed with an art project and will
focus completely upon it. Since my family is not nearby, I have tended to take
them for granted and forget to call them for weeks or a couple of months on
end. Once again, I concentrated upon those people and things around me. In a
sense I do have a second family down here in
All
in all, I understand the sacrifice I’ve made to be where I am, and the
sacrifice my family has made in dealing with me.
The
following honest explanations are my way of spelling
out why I’ve acted the way I have to my family. Writing it all down, I can
reach more than one person so I don’t have to explain myself all over again and use up more time and
energy. Besides I can express myself better through writing than I can through
on the spot speaking it. It’s also my therapy for myself. It’s for others to
understand me better so they won’t feel so hurt in the future.
Writing
all of this is like confession. I was forced to examine myself and strip down
my guard and let my soul breathe.
Anti-Depressants
12-10-01: My anti-depressant medication prevents me from making an
outburst that I would deeply regret saying aloud. From growing up watching
icons like James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and Christian Slater’s
rebel DJ in Pump Up the Volume, I used to think speaking my mind was
heroic, gutsy, dramatic and brave. Now I understand and feel how destructive it
can often be to those who won’t ever listen.
12-14-01:
I swear that in this world it takes more than four
anti-depressants to make it through untouched by all the negative
contradictions of the day. One just isn’t cutting it to overcome the insanity
and disorganization of our lives.
I saw the omens
before the news broke. Fran left early in the afternoon while singing a
deranged version of “Everything is
Beautiful...”. I could feel things were definitely off. I was about to leave early as well since only Claire the
secretary and I were around. Then Claire told me she was transferring a call to
me from the dean. He informed me that he needed to see me as soon as possible
and if I had any time this afternoon. This didn’t sound good and I knew it. I
“calmly” told Claire I had to go see the dean.
Before my impromptu meeting with the dean, I wrote this in my
notebook: “I assume the dean is going to inform me that I’ve been laid off
due to government budget cuts. Just like
that. He wouldn’t have called me in to see him on a Friday afternoon in his
Davie FAU office for anything else as important. My God. I am calm and
panicking in the same frozen moment.”
At
first I wasn’t sure exactly why I was
being given this notice that my contract was going to expire in six months. Did
the Center think I was under-performing? Did they suddenly dislike me? Did a
student complain and have me laid-off? What was going on? Why hadn’t Ed
told me personally? (It had to be official through the dean to make it “by the
book”.) I asked Dean White what was going on and if any of this was some sort
of mistake. He informed me the reason in the letter from Ed was a
reduction of budget at the Center. Suddenly, I felt realized that it wasn’t
something I’d “done”. I held back from “freaking out” and took the news rather
straightly. I was forewarned that something like this might happen. I drove
home furiously questioning what I’d do with myself now that I didn’t have an
“identity”. When I was turning onto my home street, some twenty-year old guy
stood in the road, grabbed his crotch, and shook it at me. I was so unraveled I
almost got out of my car and beat the shit sense out of him for doing such a
mindlessly offensive thing to someone he didn’t even know.
Yet
now I’m almost happy about the sudden news of change. I called Diane back
immediately after I got home and asked her humbly why I wasn’t being
recommended after my contract expires on July 1st, 2002. I couldn’t tell if it
was because of any technical predicaments I might have, if a female student
thought I was “looking at them”, or if I smelled bad. She calmly explained that
it was because of state of Florida budget cutbacks and that the B.F.A. program
in computer animation won’t be fully starting up for another year and a half
from now. There just wouldn’t be enough money to pay for my salary to teach
classes in the fall.
Now
I’ve known that this might happen at some point and time. Ed first gave me a
warning sign back in January and then again several times since September 11th.
Now it’s finally official. Diane explained to me that Ed received three
non-recommendations in his life from three different universities. Moving is
just a fact of life - something that everyone does at some point.
Yet
while talking to Diane on the phone, I realized how great and ideal things are for me to move. Honestly, I’ve been
feeling restless down here in South Florida for nearly four years now. I don’t
have any good lasting friends (through no fault of my own) to be with on the
weekend. I don’t have family to visit who are close by on holidays. I haven’t found
a real girlfriend ever since I’ve been down here. I am financially stable and
independent. As far as teaching classes goes, I could teach Maya for computer
animation, Shake or After Effects for Compositing, Director for Interactive
Art/ Interface Design and Experimental Animation, and Premiere for Digital
Video Editing. I have a grand diversity of knowledge and I’m in a position of
confidence, unlike how I was when I graduated from art school. I feel no true
attachment to south Florida. I have all the CD’s I could want, so I won’t miss
those used CD stores. And I'm sure I'll find other used CD stores to visit
elsewhere. Ft. Lauderdale is great to live in if you’re gay, Jewish, retired,
Hispanic, or a tourist - and I’m neither. I’ve visited nearly everywhere I
could in Florida (Key West, Key Largo, Miami, the Everglades, Ft. Lauderdale,
Boca Raton, Tampa, Naples, St. Petersburg, Orlando). I have nowhere else to
visit down here. I haven’t even been to the ocean in seven months. Even more
ironically, I’ve been planning to move out of my cramped efficiency apartment
for nearly two years now. I’ve been delaying finding a new place because I’ve
been uncertain about my personal life and my job life. Now that I have my
answer, I’ll know when I’m going to be moving. I’m so used to students/
friends/ peers leaving once they’ve graduated - I feel like leaving myself.
I’ve gotten what I came down to south Florida for: a Masters of Fine Arts
degree. I also managed to get three years of teaching experience under my belt and
learned so much more about computers. All in all, I feel that things are going
to fall into place very nicely for me in the future.
I
talked to Ron Saks at CCAD about new assistant professor positions for computer
animation and digital video in the fall of 2002. Though an M.F.A. degree would
be useful, he stressed VERSATILITY would be the key to those positions. I now realize that
I’d be perfect for the job.
I
figure I’m in need of a change in my life. I realize that now. I’ve been in a
state of hibernation down here “hiding” in south Florida. I should be near my
family. I don’t relate to people down here like I could when I was in Ohio. I
don’t care for the clubs or the women. If I stayed down here, I’d be single for
decades to come. Ohio is better for me. Columbus would be suitable. The traffic
isn’t as stressful and ridiculous. I’m not in pursuit of making lots of money
or getting a tan. So why stay in south Florida. After my conversation with my
sister Lara about staying in better touch with family, I feel I do need to move
back. I just need to be with family. I need their company. I can get movies,
music, entertainment, U2, friends, girlfriends, or anything else I depend on
anywhere! But family is what will keep me whole inside. This job scrambling
could be the best thing that could happen to me. I’ve been feeling upset over
my social life situation for years now. I just didn’t know what to do about it
since my job is in south Florida. Now I have a reason to change environments
that could be for the better.
I
can be independent of the Center and live
again. I can make my art and write on my home computers. I belong in a city
with an art scene - not wealthy Ft. Lauderdale. It isn’t for me anymore. I
think I prefer the idea of being creative as opposed to being famous. I’d
rather have a small following of friends and admirers than being world famous.
I’d rather be in a small art community than a rich urban world.
Change
shouldn’t be bad. As an artist who is always searching, I need it more than anything.
Like
my dad said to me after I told him about my experiences at a party-filled club,
“I enjoy simple things”. I probably will enjoy seeing the seasons change and
move out of this city-fied environment and back to a more nature-filled city.
Justin and Nikki just bought a house there, so I’ll at least have friends to
visit.
The
funny thing is how perfect of an opportunity it is for me to move from south
Florida. I’m on a month-to-month lease on my small apartment. I have no
girlfriend/ wife. No children. No extremely good friends I couldn’t part with.
No family. No house. No large furniture. And I’ve got a semester to manage the
move. Let’s just say I’m trying to look on the bright side of things.
There
is a much greater opportunity for me to meet more artistic women in Columbus
than there would be in Ft. Lauderdale.
Everything’s
changed now. So many changes have happened so quickly that I’ve been forced to
reevaluate my life. I’m happy to see that it’s okay.
When
I called my dad and told him about my news, he thought it was great news since
I’d be moving back to Ohio. I was thrilled to have him closer to me again.
After
the thrill of change had hit me, I started to feel a deep sense of uncertainty
and loss. I never had a reason to leave South Florida until now. I will miss the blue skies, the
magnificent cumulus clouds, the yearlong warm weather, the freedom, the
restaurants, the... the... what else is there? My classmates and friends have
moved on. It’s time for me as well, I suppose.
If
my friend Justin Jason is teaching at CCAD as well, that would make things
especially wonderful - an art school reunion with both of us as teachers
instead of as students. It's certainly ironic that I initially went to get an
M.F.A. degree because I wanted to teach at CCAD. Finally, my wish has come
true, by default.
I was wondering why Fran, Ed, and Diane were
having so many closed-door meetings this month.... “ALL HAS BEEN REVEALED.”
I
believe Ed and Fran both believe that they have nothing more they can teach me
at the Center. It is time for me to move on.
Earlier
this week, I had prolifically asked Justin Jason how much I’d be getting paid
to teach three classes at CCAD. He told me $18,000, which I misunderstood for
being for the whole year. After talking to Justin this evening, I relearned
with him that it was $18,000 for teaching three classes, or $36,000 for six
classes for eight months. Right away, that’s a much better deal than what I’m getting at FAU. Oddly enough, I may
have taken that deal even if FAU didn’t have the money to pay me. I told Fran
about that position and he told me if I find a job that pays better I should
take it. Ed pretty much said the same thing. It hurt a bit to hear that it was
okay if I left the Center. It made me feel like I was something rather
expendable, let alone unnecessary.
They understood that the university couldn’t pay me what I deserved. It’s like
they’re now telling me that it was okay for me to leave. I was old enough and
mature enough to leave the nest. The Center knew that they wouldn’t be able to
hold onto their faculty for long. At the Meet the Professors evening, a student
directly questioned me why I was working at FAU when I could be making more
money some place else. Even the benefits guy I talked to in July 2000 told me
that he didn’t think I’d be around for long since I’m in computers. The last
time I saw Eddie he also wondered aloud if I’d be at FAU for just a couple of
years. He ended up being dead right.
I
don’t really need to stick around
here. I’ve got a Dell-supported PC, free Internet service, enough free software
to at least keep me working on computer art for years to come, and... I don’t
know what else. Though I’ve got terribly mixed feelings, I can afford to leave.
I
called up Justin in Columbus and informed him of the news. Nikki let out a
cheerful SCREAM when Justin told her I’d be moving back to Columbus. It’s good
to know I’ve got a “home” to come
back to. They were hoping just a few weeks ago that I’d take that teaching job
at CCAD. Justin told me that we’d see art films together at the Wexner Center
for the Arts and go out and do all these wonderful things together. It was like
my prayers for a social life were being answered. From what I heard over the
phone, Justin seemed sincerely impressed with what I’ve accomplished with my
life by going out, getting an M.F.A. degree, and teach university computer
animation classes.
My
dad told me that when my Uncle Denny lost his job, “One door closed, and
another door opened”. Like Denny, I may also be getting a better job and better
life.
Even
more oddly, it now seems like I’ve been preparing for a teaching job at CCAD
for years now. Even though my current job and M.F.A. degree were Centered upon
3D computer animation, my interests have remained open to working with other
computer arts throughout the past four years. In my spare time in the evenings
and on the weekends, I’ve been continuing with working on interactive
experience pieces with Director, using digital video cameras, manipulating
digital imagery in Photoshop, working with sound design, and experimenting with
3D computer animation space and animation.
Anyways,
I am flying up to visit my family in Dayton from Dec. 23rd to the 27th. If you
want, I could drive up to meet with you at your home on the 26th and go out for
lunch. I could bring with me some examples of my most recent computer artwork
and my resume.
I
must admit that when you first emailed me back in May 2001 about a job opening,
I deeply considered pursuing it. Everything that I was skilled at I would be
teaching - computer animation, animation, interactive art, digital imaging,
storyboarding, and digital video. I was versatile enough for the job. I was
also excited that my art social life would be dramatically improved if I were
in Columbus. Ft. Lauderdale doesn’t have much or any art scene unless you’re a
tourist buying alligator teeth.
Looking
back at my old journal entries concerning being offered a teaching position at
CCAD, I mentioned that I liked the creative benefits of CEC because they were
producing more complete, finished work. Well, I’m teaching undergraduate
classes that are nearly identical to CCAD’s students now! There is no
difference any more.
I
believed in Ed’s dream of the Center for Electronic Communication and creating
computer animated poems. No wonder it was so hard for me to leave that place.
...Just
another life-altering day.
12-15-01: Ron
Saks promptly returned my phone message at 9:30 this Saturday morning and I
informed him of my “non-recommendation” at FAU due to Florida education budget
cuts. He expressed that he was “sorry” for me, but was rather overjoyed that I
would be now fully interested in teaching at CCAD. “Their loss,” he exclaimed. It sounded like the position was well
open for me and that the college might skip their search for new teachers since
Ron already knew of someone who was already right for the position. Ron is
still quite the talker. We half talked about the position and half about our
personal lives. (His father-in-law died four weeks ago suddenly.) He reminded
me of all the times he helped me get through the death of my mother. All in
all, the position sounds like it is open for me.
Ron
Saks CCAD email: rsaks@ccad.edu
Ever
since 2:50 p.m. yesterday, I’ve lost my appetite. I haven’t had anything to eat
in over 21 hours. Change can do that to you.
It’s
been a bizarre, wild, and emotionally surreal 24 hours. In this short period of
time and fate, I’ve managed to "possibly" secure an assistant
professor teaching position at my Alma Mater, the Columbus College of Art and
Design, an art school where art and creativity is stressed (not administrative
work). From what I understand, I’ll be getting a better salary, descent
benefits, and work 20 to 25 hours a week. I’ll be returning to the art scene in
Columbus Ohio where my good friends Justin and Nikki like to visit. So I’ll at
long last have people to go out with - and they can introduce me to their
female friends. I’ll be returning to the state of Ohio where my family and old
friends are. In a way, I’m fulfilling not one, not two, but three major concerns of mine: a higher
paying teaching position with less hours to work per week, being closer to my
family, and to have an art social life. This could be the best traumatic
turning point in my life.
I
spend so much time indoors watching movies, working on the computer, and
listening to music that it doesn’t seem worthwhile for me to stay in the nearly
perfect weather of Florida. Why pay so much money to live in such a small
efficiency apartment in Florida when I could get a condo for the same monthly
payment in Ohio?
The
sad, but real truth of the matter is that I could teach computer animation
courses anywhere. And it doesn't have
to be Florida or Ohio. It could be anywhere. It doesn’t really matter all that
much that I’m not going to stay at CEC after next semester. If I don’t get the
teaching position at CCAD, it doesn’t matter too much. I’ll look for work
elsewhere. An undergraduate computer animation class is the same everywhere. I
don't have to restrict myself to being any one particular place.
I
find it very odd and ironic now that my family and Columbus friends all
secretly wished for me to take that job at CCAD. I suppose I have my "unfortunate" non-rehiring at FAU to
thank for changing my life for the better. I wouldn’t have left the Center
because of “all they’ve done for me”
and for all the hard work I’ve done with the B.F.A. program that I was supposed
to be heading. Not anymore! Since my role at the Center has changed from being
a research associate to assistant professor, I’ve been teaching just
undergraduate classes. I could be teaching computer animation/ computer arts anywhere then. Moreover, I could be
getting paid more elsewhere. I could teach other computer art courses besides
computer animation, which takes longer to teach and keep up with. Why stay in
Ft. Lauderdale when I can have a higher salary, fewer hours to be at work per
week, and a better social life in Columbus, Ohio?
It
took a push, a university
“non-recommendation” due to budget cuts, to provoke me to change. I’ve been too
chicken-shit to do anything about my
social life problems and to move to a community that has an art scene for me to
thrive in. It was a highly complicated, complex situation. I didn’t want to
leave the Center because of everything they’ve done for me. The Center was also
an ideal environment for me to work within on my computer art. The thing is I
can do my artwork anywhere, especially at my own home. I should move, not
because I won’t have a job position at the Center come May or July, but to be closer
to family, closer to more artistic friends, better pay, better hours, and an
art community. I am extremely happy that I am returning back to my home state
of Ohio. It took four years of isolation in South Florida to make me appreciate
good friends, community, and family. I’ve earned my wings at FAU by getting
several years of teaching experience - it’s now time for me to fly, fly away (as they say). It is the
way. My significant others would think I was being a jerk if I didn’t take that
teaching job in Ohio. I have made my decision and I am at peace with it.
What is there for me in South Florida anyways? There is no
art scene or entertainment scene for me to thrive in. It makes no sense for me
to stay here. When I graduated from CCAD, I believed that Columbus, Ohio had
nothing to offer me. Years have passed and I now have an M.F.A. degree and
teaching experience in computer animation and computer arts. It is time for me
to see that I need to move back now that a better teaching opportunity has opened.
I didn’t take the position when I was first offered because it wasn’t approved
of yet. I was also being promoted to assistant professor around the same time,
which I thought was a big deal back then. Chris Stagl made assistant professor
upon his graduation from the Center by moving to his Alma Mater where he still
knew the faculty that landed him that job. Now I’m in the same position, even
with a higher-paying salary and less hours like his position.
I
was so afraid of change, so afraid of
instability, so afraid of being with my family. I was partially in love with
the romantic idea that I managed to move out of Ohio to beautiful Ft. Lauderdale, Florida! It took years of loneliness to
wise me up that I wasn’t entirely happy. But I didn’t care that I didn’t have a
social life down here in South Florida - as long as I had a job, a place to
make art, and movies to watch. It was like I was in a state of terminal
escapism. I didn’t think that I could get anything better. I was wrong and
immature to not take something more substantial and stable. Even my co-workers,
Fran and Ed, thought so and told me so. "If you find something better,
take it."
I’ve
always had a difficulty with leaving a bad situation due to a blind faithful
loyalty to it. It goes way back throughout my life. In high school, even though
I hated my job as a custodian at Coldwater Public Schools, I liked being with a
few of the guys who I was working with. I could have pursued a position as a
librarian or a pizza delivery guy. I was just too shy to move on. Too uncertain
and afraid that something else would be worse than what I’ve got. I didn't take
risks. For that lack of taking a
risk, I suffered for it. A similar feeling has overcome me here in South
Florida. Though there were serious problems with the Florida Educational
budgets, my salary, my work schedule, and my social life, I didn’t want to
leave the Center because it was moderately comfortable for producing my artwork
(that wasn't making any difference). Only when I was warned of impending budget
cuts did I overcome my passiveness and start looking for another teaching job.
I needed a true crisis (my six-month notice) to wake me up.
My
dad commented to me tonight that he always said to me that I was being
overworked and underpaid at FAU.
Karen
Mathieson called me up this morning and ironically asked if anything was new
with me. For once, I had PLENTY.
“Oh I’m just probably moving back to
Hollywood = Hollowood
1-11-02:
Film Criticism Food for Thought
1-15-02: This is
an article I found online written by an average film reviewer: “A. I.: Unexpected and misunderstood - see it again!”
“This may well
be the last big-budget art film we ever see, folks. Word of mouth is killing
it, but
Reflecting on My Transition to Teaching Elsewhere
1-16-02: I
believe the big change that has occurred for me in the past month since my news
of being “laid off” at FAU is that I am now facing the bleak reality of living
in South Florida as an artist and professor. I am now seeing clearly what is
wrong with living down here as well as why I stayed after my graduation. Quite
simply, I didn’t have to look far for a computer modeling/ animation teaching
job. Though the salary wasn’t that great (as opposed to working in the
animation industry), I stayed any way since the Center offered me an
environment to keep producing computer/ video artwork. Now that I’ve got the
computers and software at my own apartment, I don’t need the Center so much.
I’ve also grown confident in my technical skills so that I don’t need lab techs
to constantly help me. I can be free. Because I had this “great” research
associate/ assistant professorship, I had no reason to leave. Yet as for my
social life and art life, I was in dead water. There was no other artists or
art scene to be around. Yet I continued to stay because I had a “good” job. I
grew restless and homesick to be with my old artist friends and my own
immediate family. I had found my perfect solitude that I’d always wanted - and
it eventually left me desperately alone at times. When my teaching duties
eventually shifted to just teaching undergrads 3D Modeling, 3D Animation, and
Digital Compositing, I realized I could be teaching these sort of computer art
classes anywhere and get a
better salary. All I needed was a push... and I got one with my one semester’s
notice that I’d be let go from my FAU assistant professorship position. Though
it left me feeling lost at times, it also freed me up to escape to another city
where I could use my skills as an educator and as a computer artist in a more
creative environment. FAU was just a place I happened to begin teaching at. Our
program director Ed Skellings had taught at five different universities
throughout his life. I had to expect that I’d move on some day. Fortunately, I
was in the right position to do just that - being in my mid-twenties and
single. I didn’t have to stay in
South Florida. My relatives and friends are not from there - so why stay? I could explore other
options - especially moving back to Ohio, back to a slower pace and more
interesting, less superficial women. At last, I’ve wised up.
“It’s
the waiting that’s the hardest part…” -“The Waiting” by Tom Petty.
I
alternate between feeling confidence and utter directionless emotions about my
future. One moment, I believe I’ll be
moving back to Ohio; the next I’m considering just moving over to teach at the
Ft. Lauderdale Art Institute where I know people who work there who could
recommend me along, like Frank Balzano. What constantly bothers me is that
nothing is certain. It’s my tough luck that I’m part control freak within my
personality.
1-22-02: Art is my God. It is what I worship and
believe in. I hear all the time from my peers who tell me art is dead and that
there are no new ideas anymore. I consider these people to be art atheists.
Becoming More Open-Minded and Extroverted
2-4-02:
While talking to Justin Jason tonight, I realized how truly non-conformist he
really is. He informed me he and Nikki were going to get married - “but not
really”, at least not like society tells them to. Talking to Justin made me
realize that when I first came down in
2-22-02: I believe
in my artwork so much that I have to
keep working on it. There is no turning back or quitting. Even though I receive
no recognition, response, or pay to what I create and write, I still
think it’s truly interesting, original, and meaningful. It keeps me excited
about living, so I keep working on
it. If I thought my work was mediocre, I’d probably stop making art. It's only
common sense. But after reviewing some of my projects and writings from the
past few years, I have to admit, with deep critical
thought, that I truly am a good
artist and writer. And that is an objective judgment without ego. I have no
doubt that I am a creative individual - a real artist.
Now
if only my future was more certain from blind ambition and creative talent. I
have confidence in myself and my artwork. It is society that doesn’t!! It is
society that frowns and doesn’t care for originality, creativity, artistic
vision, or self-expression - just bland entertainment Hollywood escapism. As an
artist who is trying desperately to be true to himself and his art, it’s
goddamn sickening and depressing!! Suicide-inducing depressing!! Things have
got to change! And
it constantly makes me question: “Does making good art even matter?” No one
seems to care for “talent”. Creativity goes almost ignored in our society. No
one really cares. And I am left alone. It instills a sense of terminal
loneliness in oneself. I either fall to the pain, resist, or remain oblivious
to the pain. If I leave myself to be disenchanted with my life and art, I don’t
think I’d have anything to live for, in consequence.
Yet
still, I do not quit what I do.
Artists
vs. the Media
2-22-02: I’m so sick of media manipulating our
society to be like its cute plastic models. I wouldn’t have minded if people
weren’t already imitating these superficial images of how people should look
(without imperfections or emotion). I’m sick of how media makes everything sexy. People, especially impressionable
teenagers, look at this and (subtly) get brainwashed, while denying it to their
parents and the news crews. Instead of having normal imperfections to their
lives, the beautiful people substitute it with drug addiction. I have to
declare WAR on this hypocrisy. MTV and
I
have to fight back because my emotions won’t have it any other way. They
threaten my sanity. “Coping” with this insanity is insanity. In order to
break through, I have to communicate over the emotional static and beyond the
superficial media beauty. I’m sick of being neglected and scorned upon. My time
has come to rise up and speak up and out upon the masses. Give me an audience
of one or one trillion!! I just want to give the world some truth instead of
some fifteen-minute POP culture eye-candy.
I
have to take a stand against how glamorized drugs and sex are in the media. I
have to address it to make out world a better, less confused place. I have to
sort through the chaos and Surrealism and find harmony and structure within.
2-22-02: I’ve set unrealistic goals for myself - yet all great artists have to do
that! You have to have that kind of ambition. Madonna famously said that she
wanted to rule the world. So do I... just in a different sort of way.
It’s
a pain to be an artist. Your personality requirements have to be that you are
an opinionated individual with something to say, a loner, emotional, dedicated,
independent, and focused to one’s art. How does one find room for a lover and
family?
Taking the Plunge
into
2-25-02: Probably the wisest thing that
has happened to me artistically and personally was moving down to a different
area in a graduate computer arts/ animation program where I got to mature into
my own as an artist/ animator/ professor. I stepped out of the shadow of
undergraduate doubts and competition at CCAD and into a place where I could
start fresh and prove myself on my own. I got to make it. Through my isolation
in a different part of the country, I got to be free.
Living in Perfect, Horrifying Isolation
3-3-02:
I’ve been living down here is South Florida in near isolation for the past four
years. I live alone in a paradise.
Without close friends and family to involve myself in social activities, I’ve
been left in my apartment looking for things to do. Ironically, my solitude
situation became a perfect opportunity for me to concentrate on learning my
work skills in computer animation, computer art, and writing. It’s like being
in an isolated cabin in the woods somewhere. The irony is that I’m surrounded
by millions of people. Yet, I cannot live down here for another year for the
sake of my own sanity and personal life. I need close friends to spend time
with - not temporary acquaintances who live 50 minutes away. I’m sick of going
places by myself.
One
of my secrets to my success with having a potent imagination is that I've led a
mostly introverted life. I don't care to go out much and I'd spent a good deal
of my life in my room. I wasn't spoiled or wealthy to have gone on trips to
The Artist Utopia
3-3-02:
I am firmly against social segregation in our society. We as a country allow
people to choose to worship the God of their belief, yet religion can tend to
cause a subtle, yet enormous separation in our society. I am opposed when
people of different races, creeds, and faiths separate themselves by
associating with only each other’s
kind. I abhor the isolation that is brought by minority clubs.
African-Americans who only associate with African-Americans, Jews who only
stick with Jews, Catholics who only mix with Catholics, Italians who only dine
with Italians, Greeks who only marry Greeks. I believe the only minority that
is truly homogeneous is artists. They have the capacity and sensitivity to
dream and empathize. They are made of everyone who is different and need a
place to be part of. There is nothing elite about being different. Being an
artist is to be set back to stage one again - without restrictions of race,
creed, or faith. Yes, artists are yet another segregated minority - but the
point is to dilute all minorities into a whole - to make them one. I’m not saying artists are better
or superior. They’re just as flawed and weak as everyone else. I believe in
order to make this work we have to take the best attributes and qualities from
other minorities and unify them into a united entity. If idealism is a
weakness, so be it. I’d rather dream of a better world than dread
they one we’re in. I’d rather feel than isolate. John Lennon’s “Imagine” would
be one of our National Anthems. “Imagine there’s no countries. It isn’t hard to
do. Nothing to kill or die for. And no religion too. Imagine all the people living life in peace.”
The Artist Wild Card
3-12-02: I’ll be honest... I like being
mysterious, being a wild card. I enjoy people not knowing exactly who I am and
what my past is. I adore that fact that I had a large back catalog of artwork
and writing that no one has seen yet - like a general waiting with his arsenal
of weaponry for an Art War to come. I’ve done work in my solitude and isolation
that no one knows I’ve done. The number of CDs proves that I’ve been working
since I had to have something to listen to while working on something.
The Art Warriors and
Causalities - The Blood of
Creative Artists
3-22-02 : I recently
got back in touch with some old CCAD classmates of mine. Since I’ve been down
here in South Florida, I’ve forgotten what “freaks” are like. Jaan Shengerger
is currently working on his opus, "psychic atomic
nuclear high school senior prom 3000" since “19-fucking-98”. On his web site, Matt Plotecher admits that he “lives off of Lipton
noodles, Pasta-A-Roni, canned pasta, and 2-liters of refreshments containing
mostly citrus acid and "10% real fruit juices!" All this is immensely
nerve-raking, depressing, and hard reality hitting. It makes me feel guiltier
for having gone as far as I have and fulfilled many of my dreams and goals. I
can empathize with their jealousy and envy. I would feel the same way if I were
still in their shoes. I love these guys for having real character and individuality. They’re not like everyone else
- and I respect them immensely for that. Artists are the ones who get burnt by
money-driven society. True artists don’t have “commercial value”. They express
themselves, and that has no place in our world. Good art is a human emotion,
like love. We need more of it. I admit that there is a lot of mediocre art out
there, and I can’t say their artwork is exactly “brilliant”. But they are the
ones who deserve better for being unique – their creativity is an art piece in
themselves.
These
guys were my creative peers for three years when I was an undergraduate at
CCAD. Having moved away from
It's Just Life
3-23-02: I’ve
gone through enough stress and depression in my life that I am sometimes beyond
those emotions of abyssal despair. This is just
life. It is only existence. Nothing more... and, perhaps, nothing less. I can deal with the corruption of our society. I know
and understand the lies. Don’t be fooled. I’ve watched too many intelligent
movies and read too many books. I hide my wealth of knowledge with this skin of
youth. I’ve learned by noticing the subtleties of life... what is unsaid speaks
louder than what is. And I’m okay with the emotional devastation of life...
with a few strings attached.
Battling the Agonies of Apathy and
Rejection
3-30-02: I’ve had my
near-life altering days. Or let’s say, my days of questioning and doubting. One of my students heavily
inquired during class where this computer animation work would get him a job.
He demanded where the commercial payoff occurs for all his hard work. “I don’t
want to be a starving artist!” he professed. He mentioned these things after
hearing that my classmate Ty had gotten into the Electronic Theater at SIGGRAPH
for one of his latest animation pieces while one of my latest works didn’t. Though I told him that I could
make “artsy” pieces since I can support myself through teaching, I started to
question why I make the art I do. “Therapy art” hasn’t gotten me anywhere
commercially. “It’s not going to play to the folks in
3-31-02:
Here I am in an impossible life. I know that I possess this great amount of
artistic creative expression - yet so few care.
Society wants superficial beauty instead of honest emotion and artistic
passion. There is little to no support of artists in this world. Do we have so
much of it now that no one cares anymore? I feel a lack of artistic and
emotional empathy from my family, which only enhances my alienation and drive.
No one close to me believes in my artwork or my personality. They do tolerate
it by politely nodding their heads when I show my work to them. Suburban domestic
families who have such normal lives surround me. Here I am, this “loner” who
pursues art instead of getting
married and raising children. I stand alone with my migraines, physically,
emotionally, and artistically.
When
the Hard Reality Hits
4-1-02:
Last night, I felt the emotional ground beneath me give way. I couldn’t survive
just as an artist making art for myself and hoping that other people will like
it, too. My dreams succeeded in their pursuit of being great to the world, but
utterly failed in a commercial sense. I hit my crisis, artistically,
professionally, and personally. I didn’t have anything to support myself with.
If I have no job means no money. No personal life means no emotional
support. (Ironically, no personal life also means I have complete freedom and
plenty of time to work. But that’s until the money runs out and I have to work
at Burger King.) My Vincent van Gogh ethics were failing me at last if I don’t
have. I am a creative person on his last legs. I just want someone to talk to.
I can’t stand this isolation. I can’t win while I’m losing. I’m suffering - I
admit it. With no family, friends, or a woman around to fulfill my personal
life, I’ve been living in a failing dreamland. I’ve created my own fantasy
life. Lately, I’ve been waking up to the real world. Living on dreams is a
naïve delusion if you can’t support yourself financially with another job. I
can stay in my apartment alone much longer with my music, movies, books, and
computers to live within – but for how long?
Self-Expression
Anyway
4-3-02: Even though I have had no immediate
commercial success with my artistic video work and computer art animations, let
alone recognized critical success, I feel that I am sitting on a hotbed of creativity, ideas, and realizations.
And that’s what keeps me working even under the reality that I may be creating
art for an audience of one – I, alone. Yet one day, maybe there will be others
(a couple or a million) who will enjoy what I’ve worked so hard on. These ideas
and energy may not come back again in my life. I have to release them before
they fade into the recesses of my memory never to return again. So there is an
urgency to expressing what I have within me with the time I’ve got left.
…AND THE VERDICT FOR MY FUTURE IS IN…
4-4-02:
Ring... Ring.... “Your timing is impeccable,
Eric,” Ron professed over the phone to me concerning my phone call to him last
night. He was calling me back to inform me that I was a finalist in Video
Instructor position - though not the Video Assistant Professor position.
Instead of a core position, I would get a non-core position. I would still be a
full-time teacher with benefits. Ron believed the position would go up before a
committee to review it to become a core position next year... or the year
after. I’d be teaching two sections of Video I (oh joy, repeat classes) and
Storyboarding. Ron mentioned that I might also teach Game Design and other
time-based media classes in the future. With their program expanding, they
should be opening up several new courses for me to teach in since I’m skilled in
other areas as well. Since my position isn’t as stately as assistant professor,
they wouldn’t have the money to fly me up for a formal interview. So we planned
on a phone interview next week. Though I had plenty of fine art work, the
committee was also "concerned" with my lack of commercial work.
Before we hung up the phone, Ron assured me that I was pretty much "in" for the teaching position. And That Was That.
A
stress has been lifted. I’ve probably got "a job".
Maybe not the assistant professor job I wanted, but a job where I’d be working
my way up the teaching ladder like Frank Balzano informed me he had to - like
most people have to. It was a mainly positive feeling. I have to be humble that
I at least got a fulltime teaching position with benefits. That's still great
news.
The Telephone Interview
4-10-02: The good
news of the day is that I managed to have my half-hour telephone interview with
the CCAD committee (Ric Petry, Ron Saks, and Kon Petrochuk) at 10 a.m. at my
university office phone. Considering my no-dial-ton home telephone dilemmas, it
was incredible that I managed to make the arrangements in time for the
interview to be in my university office (with the door closed so I could
concentrate the most). The "bad news" is that the experience felt
like being put through a meat grinder while under the third degree. My
professional and academic experience was put under a microscope to be analyzed,
dissected, and probed. My personality was reviewed.
My skills were put under question and I had to answer for them. For the most
part, the interview went well. t was sort of odd at first because I was hearing
the voices of Kon Petrochuk and Ric Petry for the first time in four years! So
I greeted them warmly and spoke of how nice it was to hear their voices again.
And the third person there, of course, was Ron Saks, who I've been in contact
with the most over the past half year. I managed to survive the interview
process without any major gaffs. I answered honestly throughout on what I knew
(even though a few times I answered “incorrectly”). Specifically, I was forced
to talk about things I didn’t know extremely well, like studio lighting (which
I'm willing to learn more about) and Flash. The question that
"stumped" me the most was when someone asked what my students thought
of me as a teacher. I had literally no idea how to appropriately answer this
somewhat vague and complex question since every student might think of me
differently depending on their attitude and willingness to learn. I hesitantly
for about ten seconds before answering because I didn't want to say: "The
students love me! I'm so great!"
So instead, I tried to articulate myself with something like this: "I try
to be fair, patient (which you need plenty of as a teacher), and friendly in
the classroom with the students. Yet I also have to be a disciplinarian who can
get results from the students and make sure they know I’m serious about their
education. Some students like me, some less so. Yet I try to work with each
student to get them to a point where they are start to answer their own
questions without having to constantly rely on their teacher. Some students
want me to hold their hand the entire way through the class. Yet I can't do
that. I want them to be able to be self-reliant. It's normal to have some
questions each class. But I have to say no to certain students if they insist
on asking 20 or more questions per class. That's no longer teaching - that's
tutoring. And I've got other students I need to help, not to mention the need
for a break." I wasn't sure if I was being self-indulgent or talking in
circles or what. I hope I answered honestly without making myself seem
"complicated".
There
were times where I shined and knew exactly what I was talking about, as when I
mentioned incorporating animatics to the 3-credit Time-Based Media Design course.
As Ric put it, “We don’t want to put you on the spot but....” They further
questioned my lack of commercial work for which I’ve admittedly had little.
Towards the end of the interview, they went into the specifics of the job
position. I found out that the salary for the video position would be $31,500
for a nine-month contract starting August 1st. That’s not bad since I’ll have
most of December, May, June, and July off. So if I compare the fact that I get
paid $35,600 at FAU to work year round, it would be a better job. Also, the
cost of living would be less and having friends and family nearby would be
welcoming. When the interview was all
done, I was deeply glad to have it over with. I felt mostly good about it. I
knew it was just a formality. If anything, I at least didn’t make any corny
jokes or act overly eccentric. I was mostly calm, reserved, attentive, polite,
sincere, serious, honest, and direct. I must admit having a job interview is a
challenging experience. I was also somewhat nervous, but I overcame the
obstacle. I'm glad I didn't have to fly all the way up to Columbus for an
interview that only lasted half an hour.
After
opening my door and leaving the office, Fran was surprised to see me so early
in the morning. I informed him why I was in and that I had just finished having
my CCAD job interview. "Did it go well?" Fran asked. I calmly
replied: "I think so."
“Who Is It For?
4-13-02: I am still haunted by the comments people, family, and friends have made
about my artwork: “Who is it for? If it isn’t commercial, then who is it for?
Why should it exist?” Ultimately, I
have to answer that question with utter and total honesty: it's for me. And hopefully, others will enjoy it as well. And I'm
not the first one to say that. So has John Lennon and various other music
groups.
-CLOSURE
DAY-
4-16-02: "I GOT
IT!!! I GOT IT!! I GOT IT!!! I GOT
IT!! I GOT IT!!! I GOT IT!! I GOT IT!!! I GOT IT!! I GOT IT!!! I GOT IT!! I GOT IT!!! I GOT IT!! I GOT IT!!! I GOT IT!!"
Fate
rang at 11:52 a.m. when CCAD
dean of Media Studies Ric Petry called. I had just gotten back from a morning
bike ride and was just eating some take-out Thai Tom Yum soup for lunch. “Well
Eric, I’m calling to offer you a job.” “Yes,” I accepted over the phone. I
asked a few questions about the position... and that was it. I had the job. No
more worrying, no more panic attacks. My future feels more solid now. I can
barely stop giggling from the delight on something going right with my life. My pride was restored. FREE AT LAST FROM MY
PAIN!! I have a future set. I don’t
have a past to wallow in the sun. And it sounded like CCAD will give me an
assistant professorship the following year, or at least renew my teaching
contract. My life is now much less full of
stress. AMEN.
Moments after I got the phone
call that I had officially gotten the teaching job at CCAD, I sang this
“Spontaneous Celebration Song”: “I got the freakin’ job!! Woooohhh!! No more
worrying! No more panic attacks! I’m free
sailing now! Isn’t it loverly! Isn’t
Thai food delicious! But geez...
isn’t it good to have a future! And it seems like it’s gonna be bright! I’m gonna get out of Florida! Oh what
a feeling – I can’t believe it’s here! It’s done – at last! …Boy… I’ve got to
get packing now. …Well, I feel better now. No more panic attacks, no more
frustrations. Nothing anymore to worry me
anymore. I feel really, really, really good now!"
"I Suppose I Do My Art 'For
Fun'"
4-18-02: Reflecting on a personal conversation with Atom yesterday, I have
acknowledged the pointlessness of dreaming in a corrupt world. Atom informed me
that his invited musician guests had spread wildly ridiculous rumors to Ed,
Diane, and his record company that he had been having “wild sex parties” with
up to fifteen under-age girls in his recording suite. (Ha, ha, ha, ha! That
even sounds ridiculous written down if you know Atom's true character.) Also,
his record company is run by the mafia and drugs. Suddenly, his life was being
stripped away from him out of lies and slander. It was something I personally
knew something about. I discussed with him about that time and how I was once
accused of sexual harassment by people who were just as delusional. We
discussed how dreams and hopes are dashed aside when such things happen to
oneself. We both work so hard on our individual art only to have it go nowhere.
We’re both learning that artistic lesson in life. Atom confessed that he hasn’t
seen a cent from the music album he just put out. “But it doesn’t matter that
much. I did it just for fun.” I suppose I do my art "for fun" as well as personal therapy. We both agree with
getting a university degree and a university job is the most important thing to
have in our lives. We’re both burnt out by the business of selling ourselves to
a commercialized society. It’s a wake-up call to realize that art isn’t meant
to be shown. It is meant to be personal and mainly for oneself. Art does not
compromise to fit the opinions and expectations of society. It says something
commercial art is mute to. Does van Gogh have to be sponsored by Pepsi in order
to get one’s work shown? Imagine: “Van Gogh Self-Portrait with Pepsi in Hand”?
This experience allowed Atom and I to reshape our priorities and see that
having a family and friends is the most stable, fulfilling thing to have in
one’s life.
Insecurity Creates Creativity
4-23-02: I believe that when I’m more creative,
I’m feeling more insecure inside. When I’m more relaxed and socially confident,
I’m less creative and artistic. Creativity in me comes out of a warped,
disorientated, surrealist vision of life. No wonder I struggle and feel edgy,
uncomfortable, and restless when I have to socialize in real life.
Letting Go
4-27-02: Learning
to let go of the things you love is one of the greatest and hardest steps to
“maturity”. I accept the loss of loved ones through death, divorce, breakup, a
job, or whatever creates an inner strength to move on. I'm starting to say goodbye to my four-year life down here
in South Florida. It's all coming to an end now. Time to let go of a job,
colleagues, friends, a lifestyle, and a whole way of life. And I can't forget
about you, sunshine. Or you, beautiful
blue saturated skies.
Form a Creative/ Technical Partnership
4-30-02: I had a
slight realization today: as a technically brilliant computer animation
graduate student was showing me his 3D work, I mentioned a creative idea and he
liked it and wrote it down. If only we could collaborate on a project and use
his technical know-how and my creative concepts, we would create some really
great work. I need a partnership like that. My best trait is my creativity. I
need to merge that with someone who has great technical skills and commercial
instincts.
I HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE
5-2-02: I am re-feeling the urgency of
expressing a new time-based art piece that will compete with Ty and Karen’s
work. I’m furiously sick of getting looked over at festivals! I have to make my
work innovative, but commercial! I have to force myself and my creativity to
make something truly groundbreaking. I just don’t feel that I’ve done it yet. I
must create the ultimate, idealistic expression of myself to make it be known
that I am somebody, too. The failure
of Atom’s music video to get shown has provoked me to reconsider why I even do
art. Why make all this creative creation when they isn’t an audience for it?!
It drives me mad. Yet, I do have one, major advantage: I HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE.
And
yet I still have to consider this terrifying fact: we live in a world of trillions
photographs and images. What makes yours interesting then?
The Personal Is the Universal
5-5-02: I feel my art really
does reach a lot of people and a wide, mature audience. Who hasn’t been through
death… the break-up of a relationship… despair? Who can’t relate to loneliness?
Loneliness is universal. Who hasn't felt alone at some point in their life?
Therefore, who wouldn’t be able to relate to my art? The personal is the
universal. I project my feelings into my art for a mass audience to feel
them. The only catch is if the audience is open enough to receive them.
Into the Subconscious
5-6-02: The unconscious and subconscious is
where all the images and memories you don’t use or remember anymore are stored.
Sentences from novels you’ve read... comic book magazines from your childhood
that you threw away when you were cleaning your room at 19... dreams you had
when you were four... pictures you drew in the third grade... the dress you
liked seeing the girl you had a crush on wear in the fifth grade. The things
that were once important to you. All those little things are still stored in
one’s mind. Dreaming and making art is a way of previewing them again.
Having a Social Life
vs. Introspection of Art-Making
6-3-02:
Having a
social life has become something of a conflicting blessing. I love having
friends to hang out with; yet I also feel I’m being taken away from the
introspection of my artwork and writing. Movies and music used to primarily
take up my free time since I didn’t have anyone to socialize with. The
creativity and originality of those mediums would inspire me to create art. The
images and ideas spring creative concepts to my brain. Recording that thoughts
are what keeps me creatively active and alert. If I didn’t, I’d lose my
perspective and focus. It was like a cycle of creative creation. Yet once that
cycle is compromised, I’m left agitated and nervous. I don’t have my release. I
suppose that’s why I prefer to have few friends. I don’t want any hanger-ons
who distract me from doing art. I want to be around people who inspire me – not
drain me with banal conversation. In general, I like to be alone sometimes with
only art, movies, and music as my companions.
The Dangers of Taking a Solitary Existence to Its
Extremes
6-29-02: I believe that I will be able to reach my full
potential as a creative artist if I am able to remain in a totally secluded
state completely away from distractions of any kind. The right brain takes over
after a while. It starts to forget about socializing and starts mutating and
evolving into a different kind of creative consciousness. Yet the danger is in
controlling that psychic shift. Too much time to oneself can breed insanity
and/ or a complete fallout of social skills. I have to find a balance, if possible.
It may not be possible. Too much hard work can cripple one's social life to
nil.
Creating Art Is My Self-Esteem Boost
7-7-02: What keeps me together mentally and emotionally is
my artwork and creative activities. Without imagination, my life would be a
failure. Yet with my creativity, I feel like a "god", a creator of
what 99.9% of the population cannot dream up. The art and writing I obsessively
release is what makes my self-esteem high. It keeps me believing in myself.
I Am a By-Product of
the Legacy of Vincent Van Gogh
7-24-02: During
the afternoon at the San Antonio SIGGRAPH conference, I met my former graduate
school classmate, Karen Matheson, and briefly talked to her. She and Ty have
been having several prominent job interviews and probably job offers. “All this
hard work and consequently being broke is finally working out!” She said
proudly.
Suddenly, I was faced with the reality that my own
artwork that I also slaved over has no point in reality. It has no audience. At SIGGRAPH, Ty and Karen’s
piece was pushed off to a corner screening room of the “Art Gallery” because it
was “too artsy”. That would mean my work would be put in a janitor’s closet
showing room behind the “Art Gallery” at SIGGRAPH for being too artsy,
personal, expressive, innovative, and original – but only slightly and barely
“entertaining”. My competitiveness told me I should be as good or better than
they are. I know I am when it comes
to creating art. (Admittingly, they
do beat me when it comes to animation that is entertaining.) So now I’ve got friends who have made it big for
making more “commercial” work that was basically recycled and inspired by other
people's commercial work. It was a desperation renewed for my self and art.
These very words shouldn’t exist if not for my own internal
conflict and dire need to resolve
these demons.
You
see... I am a by-product of the legacy of Vincent van Gogh. …So what if my work
doesn’t get seen and I am not appreciated as an artist during my lifetime. The
life of a teacher is the life I have chosen. Most of all, I am happy in it.
Yet, I keep fighting and fighting and fighting and fighting for a reason for my art’s existence in society.
Are my artwork and I in vain?!
I am
heartbroken – dream-broken – and it is
not entertainment for the masses… is it? It’s lonely in my imagination –
even if it is a party. My artwork should make you think instead of clap or simply smile. I feel too much – and that is why I continue doing the
artwork I do I guess it doesn’t matter all that much in the end.
Understanding
"Entertainment Art"
7-24-02
continued: Yet after seeing Ty and
Karen’s “A Traffic Jam”, I felt so deeply inspired. Their piece deserved all
the wealth, awards, and prestige it’s gained. It was indeed an inspiration for
a struggling individual artist like
myself. If they can do it by working hard every day – so can I! I can’t give up. This year it was Ty
and Karen’s year. Perhaps another year it’ll be mine. The new and primary
impression I’ve had from this SIGGRAPH is that getting into its “Art Gallery”
theater is not beyond my grasp. I
first have to market, explain, and package
my work a certain entertaining way.
After
viewing the “Art Gallery” pieces, I didn’t stop talking about “A Traffic Jam”
for over ten minutes to my roommate for the week. What didn’t impress me the
most wasn’t how utterly fantastic the modeling, lighting, texturing, animation,
motion, camera angles, and camera lenses all were. Even something beyond the
hilariously inventive pun of the title – a traffic jam. It was the sense of play and creative discovery that the light
posts had from inventing this music.
One of the things I always look for in movies or music is something new. Here
was a piece that had me howling with laughter while watching in awe. I couldn’t
sit still while watching it. Even now as I write, I’m getting giddy from the
memory of the piece. It kind of shocked me that it didn’t get into the
Electronic Theater since the other pieces in the “Art Gallery” were so much
more abstract/ expressionistic/ surrealistic. Anyways, I am proud to have known
both of them personally for the time I did in Ft. Lauderdale. I love artists.
They’re so good. There is little doubt in my mind that both of them had dozens
of job offers as a result.
7-26-02:
If I learned
anything from this year’s convention, it was what the majority of people want. And 99% of society doesn’t want to
see my work. I understood what makes entertainment art – a narrative storyline
with understandable visuals… with flashes of emotion, visual originality, and
ordinariness so they won’t feel too “weirded
out”. It’s like a sixth sense. Who
are you communicating to? Who is your audience? Who is this art and writing
for? I became self-conscious of what exactly
SIGGRAPH is looking for in its animations. They’re looking for good technical
skills (lighting, weight, animation, texturing, modeling, balance, timing), a
strong audio track, a short length of animation (thirty seconds to two
minutes), and a good storyline. “Dumbed-down” art is what I call it. John
Lennon called “commercial music” art with a sugar-coating so it goes down
easier. That's about right.
Returning Home a
"Hero" Because I Won Back My Confidence
8-1-02: Yet the
ultimate thrill for me today was realizing that I had indeed made it out of the
dead end “prison” of small town life and found myself as an college instructor
of computer animation and video art. I could smile at last, look back and laugh
at all the torment I went through from going up in a small town. I found it
hilarious how much more open and un-shy I am now about women and socializing.
If I lived in a small town, I’d probably get
a new girlfriend within a day just by visiting a friend’s farm. “Excuse me,
sir… Farmer John, but could I go out with
your daughter?” It would be that simple. I’ve got the experience,
education, money, personality, faith, and confidence to make it through. I
don’t take any more bullshit from so-called “bullies” anymore too. I’ll
bitch-slap them and then kick them in the groin if they did start up on me.
I’ve got my confidence in tact with me now – something I was never always to
have when I was a resident of a small town. I was a dreamer, but an
introverted, emotionally troubled one. Yet it was that very insecurity and
urgency that motivated me to work as hard as I have to get where I wanted to
go. I made it. I’m returning to my
homeland a hero.
"You
Should See a Psychiatrist"
8-6-02: There have been times in my more mature,
adult life where people have “suggested” to me that I should possibly see a
psychiatrist. The real hypocrisy of the situation is that the very people who
suggested I see a mental doctor are just as, if not immensely more, “screwed
up” as I. If a “friend”, who has “womanized” hundreds of women, recommends to
me to see a psychiatrist because I haven’t gone on a “real” date in two years
because I haven’t met any “good” women in
Were the people who tell me to go see a doctor using
me as a scapegoat to cover up that they
are the ones with the real problems.
They’re the ones who can’t face up to their own dilemmas.
To "Live"
Through Creating Art
8-8-02: There
is something odd about staying indoors for most of the day and not seeing
anyone. During parts of this summer, I’d spend most of the day on the computer
typing or in Photoshop retouching photographs while listening to music,
watching 1975-1980 reruns from “Saturday Night Live”, and watching movies. It’s
all I do day in, day out. It turns into a bummer routine once I stop and think
about it. I’d get so involved with the art that I’d forget to go out and live. To “live”... what a questionable
exercise in existence. Sometimes spending time with friends and family can be
such a bore compared to creating all the time – and creating art can be so much
more satisfying. Yet I need to keep working and producing artwork so I can “get
ahead”. It is a matter of having enough time to work without distraction. Yet,
what about the isolation that comes along with the seclusion needs to bring
upon oneself?
A Personal State of
Emergency
8-10-02: My
life’s been changing so much around me. My dad, Lara, and so many other people
are all dating. The friends I’ve known have children or are married now. I have
to use my emotions to their fullest extent in order to stay afloat and
distinctively be me. And yet I cannot
stay single any longer. That much is clear and certain to me. I have to change.
It is a personal state of emergency. Don’t you want to be like everyone? Be
married and “happy”?! Isn’t that the way to be?
Is that “free”? "Tee hee?"
And so my life-long conflict begins anew – with a reawakened urgency. (Yet, am
I more interested in my artwork than I am with a girlfriend?) Since I’m still
single, I really have to fight. It’s war to be an artist, an individual, an
eccentric, and single. I’m
overflowing with emotions. The length of today’s journal is proof of that fact.
I can’t help but write and express myself. Now who else around me does that?
It’s no wonder why I look to other artists and movies for emotional and
psychological support rather than the “ordinary people” around me!
I’m a Dream-Maker,
Damn It
8-11-02: You
know, I was a little afraid to come back “home” to Coldwater. I don’t want to
learn or see that most of the girls I had crushes on in school are now dull,
yet pleasant domesticated homemakers with children and a husband. What a
nightmare…. All those years in junior high and high school obsessing over young
women that turned out ever so-so. I’m a dream-maker, damn it – not a
homemaker!!
The more I think about it, the more I realize how
little I was “allowed” to grow up when I was in high school in a small town.
Instead, I had to grow in my imagination. I became a professional dreamer.
The Sacrifice
Continues
8-12-02: What
burns me the most is that I’ve sacrificed my personal life for my professional
life in art and education. I gave up on love for my art. So I yearn for
compensation. That is why I am so terrified of losing any of my artwork or
writing. It is everything I gave up
on to create instead of loving some girl and having a family. All of the
emotional turmoil, all of the heart and labor I put myself through. My very
existence demands that it be meaningful to other people besides myself. It must
be – there must be a universality to it since it comes from human feelings that
are deeply personal, sincere, and raw.
The Artistic Creation
Seduction
8-16-02: I’ve
been seduced by creating art. Sometimes, the power of creativity and expression
consumes me. It is power, with emotions as my weapons. (I just have to make
sure they don’t kill me while I handle them. There's been a few "near
misses"…) It’s takes me in with the allure of imagination and fantasy and
then taunts me the possibility of recognition. Instead of going out and
socializing with people, I spend my time with my computers and creating my own
artwork. How ironic that years ago I wasn’t sure if I had what it took to work
long hours on art homework. Now I can’t
get myself to stop.
The Family/ Art
Spiritual Divide
8-17-02: Big mistake for “living” today - Big Mistake. I drove to a
“Mexican-themed” party at my sister Lara’s house this evening while listening
to “Eminem: The Eminem Show”. Now it was my fault from the get-go to have
arrived after listening to Eminem, which put me in completely the wrong mindset
for that party gathering. I grew restless and bored after two mere minutes (a
new record for me). I was struggling to stay interested in an almost impossible
social environment – even with three anti-depressants in me. At one point, I
asked Lara if I could go out riding on her bike. “Don’t want to socialize, do you?” was her stinging, self-righteous
response. “…” I paused not wanting to offend her with my lack of interest in
her straight-as-an-arrow Catholic church group friends (or make myself look
like a self-pitying loner). I just wanted to do something more exciting than
where I was at. I responded sarcastically: “There’s not enough Protestants at
your party.” There was a heavy undercurrent of tension in the room where our
normally pleasant fronts revealed how bitter we were about each other’s
different lives. This is an exaggeration, but my being at that get-together was
like a Jewish gay black man attending a KKK meeting – and then someone asking
the black man to socialize more with everyone else so they can fit in and enjoy himself. What am I
doing in a house full of Catholics with families and suburban homes?!? This is
a not much fun. I needed eccentric, artistic company - immediately. The closest
individual I knew was my friend, Matt Plotecher. So I called him up and we
agreed to go out on a spontaneous photo shoot tomorrow morning. Oddly enough
after talking to him on the phone, I was rejuvenated with energy and found
myself immensely talkative and sociable. I knew it wouldn’t last past an hour,
so I didn’t plan on staying much longer. I remembered what Neil Young had once
said that if a situation is bad and something else feels right somewhere else,
he just packs up and goes. That’s how I felt this evening. I am very little
like my right wing, conservative family and relatives. These people mostly live
in the suburbs of small towns where it is safe to raise children and go to
church on Sundays. They practically live in their own private, self-contained
worlds. I kept hearing them bicker and complain about how most families don’t
care about their children and that people don’t cook their food at home
anymore. I couldn’t stay there much longer, or else I’ll get angry and
embarrass them and/ or myself. Worst of all, I understand where they’re coming
from since I was raised just like them. It’s just that I “strayed off” and
became me instead. It was being exposed to more mature types of movies, art,
books, and music that altered me into the teacher/ artist I am today. It’s a
sacrifice that I pay for pretty much every day. Today was quite the experience
because it was such a test. I’ll admit that at times, I had fun with certain
people and truly enjoyed myself. And I don’t disagree or object outright to
Christianity or other people’s faith because I know how much good there is to
them. I do object to the banality of Christianity. There isn’t enough
universality to it to satisfy me. They’re not open-minded enough to attract my
wide-angle imagination and vision. That is why I prefer art, music, literature,
and movies so dearly. They are the universal languages. But I got sick of the
hypocrisy of my “Christian” older sister who acts like I’m a freak because I
have a “bald head”. She means it as a
harmless joke, but there’s an undercurrent of domineering meanness there that’s
unjustified and cruel. Any eccentricity, originality, creativity, or range of
emotion is scoffed upon with disregard or indifference. “You make art, but it’s
not pretty pictures of flowers painted on a canvas?” It’s like what I do is so
different and deep that people don’t
know how to accept it with an open mind because they weren’t raised to be open
to such new ideas. “Fine art on the computer? I don’t understand.” Maybe it is
too soon for people to understand because they haven’t been exposed to it enough
yet. They haven’t experienced or learned enough about it to accept it. It all
comes back to my experience at that party. I wasn’t relating to the majority of
those people. I want to be liked by everyone – but it is impossible. Not everyone loves William Shakespeare, Edgar
Allen Poe, Martin Scorsese, or Salvador Dali. They’re great creative
individuals, but Jesus and Billy Graham don’t care for them. (Maybe I do need
an endorsement by the Divine Being, Mr.
God, in order to gain acceptance and favor from the Christian market?) Most of
the people at that party would rather talk about sports and how cute their
children are rather than talk about art and emotions. Who are the real
"freaks"?
And
what tops everything off most bitterly with internal conflict and turmoil is
that I am so lonely inside. I sensed today that some of the people at that
party figured that if I felt any such pain I deserved it for not “socializing”.
I want to be around people. Today was like washing my dirty hands with acid.
That’s why I called Matt. I needed some "Plotecher spring water".
And
does my dad or my family care if I’m a truly great writer or artist? No, not
really. They don’t understand what my work is about. They don’t entirely relate
to it – so how could they care about it? Yet I do want them to care. But their lack of interest isn’t going to
slow me down from keep working on. I just accept who I am and who they are and keep on keeping on. Only if someone told
them how good I am would they really
“care”. Otherwise, I’m just their “crazy” son and “little” brother.
8-19-02: I’ve
been doing rare things lately. I’ve been socializing again. This evening, I
went out and had dinner at my cousin Dean and Laurie’s place in
To Thrive
Artistically
8-24-02: Being I’m single and living by myself, I’ve
been able to do all the artistic things I needed to do in order to develop as a
creative, self-expressive human being. Sure, I’ve learned loneliness – but I
needed the lack of distraction and conflict of emotion in order to drive me to
succeed and thrive artistically. I needed something to provoke me to prove
myself to the world. I needed time and space to evolve from a nobody in a small
town to a college instructor.
Yet I’ve also asked myself a most
controversial question: “Was it “beneficial” that my mother died since it
forced me to throw myself into my work so I wouldn’t feel as much pain?” It's a
cruel, sick question. But her death did provoke me into the way I am today, not
unlike how the death of Bruce Wayne's parents provoked him to become Batman.
Unsatisfied
8-28-02: Every
day, I am unsatisfied. Perhaps because I am an artist, that very trait is my
greatest gift. As a human being, it is my worst curse. I'll just have to learn
to live with it as best I can.
My First Day Teaching at CCAD
8-28-02: There were
some small, yet significant differences with teaching my first day of classes
at CCAD. I’ve been well-rehearsed with three years of teaching and I knew that
I should always keep talking even if I didn’t exactly know what to say next. I
didn’t repeat myself… I started the class on time at 8 a.m. ... I was sociable
with the students… I didn’t stutter or
hesitate much… I was energetic and humorous while keeping the class in order
and informative. I first gave them my past history and educational background.
Though the students looked tired and visibly somewhat bored at times, I kept
trying to make them engaged. Teaching is an education in itself. I’ve learned
from my past mistakes and have improved on them. My only drawback is that I am
new faculty and no one really knows what to expect from me. I also feel like
I’m in the shadow of other teachers. Still, I made it with a smile on my face
and a good first start to a new job at a new school. I’ve successfully made the
jump from student to faculty member at the Columbus College of Art and Design –
just as I dreamed I’d do one day. I didn’t think it would be possible.
I Wouldn’t Have It
Any Other Way
8-30-02:
This Friday, I was dealing with the bizarre
reality that I work only three days a week at CCAD, and I’ve got Friday,
Saturday, Sunday, and Monday to do what I please. That means I can be an
“artist” for four days a week. It was almost too good. Yet the freedom actually
made me lonely. Someone like me needs
to be around people every day. Too much isolation can kill me subtly inside
like a cancer of negative emotions. It is unfortunate that I am so obsessed
with my art that I cannot function as a “normal” person in society - but I
wouldn’t have it any other way. No wonder I feel such a dire need for
recognition since I sacrifice myself so for my art. It is a positive direction
because it is a direction. Standing
still is the worst place to be.
Teaching
at CCAD
9-3-02: Teaching at CCAD has been
incredibly easier than teaching at FAU. I’m sensing a reduction of expectations
with some of the undergraduate students. They don’t expect brilliance. They
want information, energy, inspiration, and entertainment. Thankfully, I can
supply them with all of those qualities. I’ve been very surprised by how
positive I’ve been feeling. The key to teaching is to not consider it work.
If you view it as something fun or easy, life becomes extremely pleasant.
Assessing My First
Semester Teaching at CCAD
11-28-02:
It’s now almost at the end of the
school semester and I can look back and see where I came from and what I
accomplished this semester at CCAD. I went in having never taught a full
semester’s course of video in my life and came out with “flying colors”. Previously,
I had only spent probably only a couple of hours explaining how to use the
digital video cameras and Premiere software to the grad students. Suddenly, I
was teaching for a whole semester of video-related material. I had slightly exaggerated how much teaching experience
I really had. I only started teaching three classes per semester full-time
until last January at FAU! Otherwise, I was only teaching one 3-credit class
per semester while working as a research assistant/ assistant professor. Doesn’t
matter… I did what I had to do to impress CCAD that I was right and capable for
the job. It was a leap of faith and I made it. There wasn’t exactly much doubt
that I couldn’t do it, but there were hesitations and nervousness. Just now,
I’ve realized that I’m a success in my new job. I never reflected on that since
I was always working hard in the present, taking each day and week at a time.
It’s only when you have a vacation break that I can discover that I made it
“okay”.
You
Can't Please Everyone
12-12-02:
Just as I was feeling so good about my first semester, I
was brought back down by a few negative words in student evaluation forms from
my own students. Reading through lukewarm student evaluation forms of my class/
performance upset me for a few minutes before I realized that some art students
are known for being self-centered, cruel, overly critical, and naïve (all true
points). They're impossible to completely please because they have expectations
that can't possibly be met. I have to
be realistic about it and just accept them for being flawed… as well as myself.
A
Student's Different Opinion
12-21-02:
Hey Eric~ Just a shout out that I
had a great time in the class and learned a whole bunch. I really enjoyed
it (even though I'm not a MS major). Was a pleasure having you for a
teacher! See ya 'round! -Dennis Wodzisz.
Fighting for
Recognition and Attention Through Making Art
9-15-02: I suppose the main reason I spend so much
time obsessed with my art and writing is that it is the source that will allow
me to get recognition in a way that I can’t possibly do in real life. I’ve been
failing in meeting women in real life. I don’t know of any other way to break
through!! I’m desperate. I’m obsessed.
Adults Are Too
“Mature” and “Hip” to Play Anymore
9-15-02: While visiting my friends Justin and Nikki,
I borrowing one of their young boy’s bicycles to ride through a
No Relationship
Benefits and Downsides
9-19-02: I haven’t been in a real relationship now
for over two years now. It’s been a bipolar mixed blessing. I would never have
gotten my current teaching job if I were committed to a relationship. I needed
that additional time to work in a diversity of software, take my photographs,
study movies, listen to music, and write in my journals and articles. Yet to
have the company of someone I could really relate to would have eased
countless devastatingly lonely nights (and days).
Art to Connect Our
Sense of Humanity
9-22-02: There
are dormant emotions that lie beneath us all. We just need an opportunity and
platform to display that world of charisma and feeling. 99% of the time I
express those deep feelings in my art. We’ve all been hurt, been through pain,
been let down, been uplifted, been redeemed. Personally, I’ve been heckled,
harassed, spat upon, hit with candy projectiles and paper wads, publicly
humiliated, and devastated. And so I work it out through the canvas of art. We
all have emotions to work out. Art is simply the most effective and cathartic
way to release those emotions. We are one with our emotions. We are united by
them as a human race. This is how we feel empathy towards one another. We make
art in hope that others might feel something as well from that self-expression.
And that art can make another feel a range of feelings: hope, terror, euphoria,
depression, gladness, sadness, despair, or happiness. It's what makes us human
and one.
How To
Waste My Time Productively
9-29-02: There
is a real question in having fun wasting time with your friends in relation to
being productive with one’s work or one’s art. “Come waste your time with me,” sang “Phish”
on “Waste”. Is there a pleasure to not doing anything? Is there a cleaning of
the slate there that allows us to feel more productive the next day since our
batteries are all recharged and ready to work? When I was in high school, I
felt like all I did was dream and wait for a chance to graduate and leave for
something better. The waiting for that opportunity drove me a little
crazy and obsessive. I was not content with doing nothing. I did have good
movies to rent to keep me in check. They were worthwhile.
Making a Positive
Impact as a Teacher
10-3-02: It’s
odd being a teacher. I get so used to helping people that I forget how good it
really feels to be a positive impact to a young person’s life. I take it all
for granted since it just becomes part of my job. Deep inside, I know I love it
endearingly. It makes me into a “super hero”. I’m making a “difference” in the
world.
Make
Your Own Art If What's Around You Doesn't Excite You
10-11-02: I must relieve the
tension inside me and amuse myself through the creation of my own art. It is
the only way to survive, thrive, live, and be. If the art and entertainment
worlds don’t satisfy me, I must create my own. I want to be engaged! If
you don’t resist this numbness, your mind will go (or dwell into daydream by
default). If you don’t do anything about it, you go into autopilot and simply
fall asleep. If I do resist, creative ideas flood my mind. If I don’t have a
tool or medium to express myself, I’d feel desperate and dreadfully impatient.
Animation to Infinity
10-11-02: Animation: to give life to inordinate materials.
So to be an animator is to be like a god. What an appealing quality. It is a
pleasure to explore the unconscious mind of images, innocence, and memories.
The mind goes free in animation. It represents creative nature.
Animation,
anime, imagination, and movies keeps one young, youthful, and alive.
This is a key appeal to these mediums. It touches our universal cord and allows
us to dream again.
Art Out of Urgency
10-12-02: Some days I create art out of my own personal
urgency that I’ve got nothing to lose for making art. I already know that there
is a possibility that absolutely no one will even witness it. It’s created on
empty on full numbed-out desperation. And that makes me feel fine. I have
nothing left to give but my creativity and imagination. So here it is.
The Emotional Highs of Creating Art
10-13-02: I only feel truly alive when I create art with
creative inspiration. It’s better than anything I’ve ever felt. Better than sex
even. Yet when I don’t feel any inspiration, my mood turns to depression and
ruthless boredom. So I've got to be very careful. Making art can be like being
on a drug. It gets you so very high. But without that high, you feel incredible
lows as well. So in a way, being a real artist can be a very dangerous
profession. With great emotional rewards come incredible emotional risks.
Balancing
Creating Art with Getting Out with Friends
10-13-02: Sometimes on weekends, I’ll get viciously selfish with
my time and won’t want to call up friends to hang out with them. I convince
myself that I’d rather be working on art. But then it got to a point during my
daily life that all I did is work. I’ve missed out on living. And if living
means doing boring things, so be it. It’s a crucial element that I need in
order to appreciate the good time with the bad. I have to find a balance
between the two.
Can You Have a Big Ego If No One Knows Who You Are?
10-16-02: I really don’t have much of an ego since no one
really tells me that I’m a brilliant artist. I don’t have a mother anymore to
support me. I don’t have fan clubs. I don’t even have a girlfriend. All I've
got is myself and my fantasy world. And with that world of imagination, I still
need to keep my ego from getting out of control… just in case.
Don't Feel Too Deeply Inside
10-21-02: I’ve
personally known the dangers of feeling too deeply inside. I got too in
touch with my feelings. It provokes too much dreaming and too many emotions.
It’s kill you with depression and devastating introspection if you live with it
for too long.
I Hate Routines
10-30-02:
I am a conflicted man. I adore the quiet and
pleasant atmosphere of simple living. I love things being in order and knowing
what I’m going to do next. Yet I absolutely despise routines. It subtly
degrades the mind into living on autopilot and wanes creative impulses. I hate
depression, but I use it as a provocative stimulus in my art. If I fall into
the daily activity of watching DVDs and listening to music, I never get out
enough to meet other people. As an artist, I must change and do new and
different things. My mind won’t allow it any other way.
In a State of
Emotional and Artistic Flux
10-31-02: I
fear that I have two different personalities – and I’m stuck in between. One is
extremely extroverted and wants to go out with people and communicate and express
myself. The other is deeply introverted and desires to stay indoors watching
movies, listening to music, and (most importantly) make art. If I’m feeling
extroverted, I feel discouraged that I don’t have anyone to go out with. In
this extroverted state, I’m usually not creative and movies aren’t actively
engaging enough. I want a lover. No more movies and creating art as
substitutes for love. Yet if I’m introverted, I’m discouraged that I’m not
going out and too into my artwork. I don’t want to be around anyone at all.
Once I’m in that introverted mode, I may become too comfortable and lose any
urgency to work. Then boredom and depression prevail. I am simply in a state of
emotional and artistic flux.
My Spirit Is
Spiraling
10-31-02: Look
in the mirror: here was a man, me, who was overflowing with spontaneously
combustible ideas, emotions, and creativity. It was a flood of dreams. I
couldn’t stop from the artistic flow. It was too much part of me. My spirit is
spiraling.
Look at All That I've
Accomplished
11-11-02: Looking
back at all the journals I’ve written, I sensed great pride at what I’ve done
with my life in regards to creativity and self-expression. I’ve actually
managed to express myself. It's something that not every human being has
the ability to do. Yet I've managed to channel my emotions and creativity
through my journals, writings, and artwork, be it computer animation or video.
And all the while, I kept myself from going mad thanks to keeping a journal. I
made it through hell. And now I'm on the other side. Yet what a toll it took. It
honestly broke my heart to do some of the artwork that I’ve accomplished and
expressed. It simply took that much out of me emotionally.
Sometimes Great Art
Needs Extreme Emotions
11-13-02: I’m starting to understand the “best” years
of my art life are my most turbulent. Art needs and thrives on pain, anguish,
depression, despair, urgency, jealousy, and the finest of extreme emotions. If
you’re comfortable and relaxed and happy most of the time, why make art? I
mean, why even doodle on a piece of paper if you're content? You make art
because your emotions need a release. If you're satisfied and don't feel any
conflict inside of your soul, you’re not creating for a reason anymore. Where
is the true motivation? Great art is not created for money (unless you’re
starving and your life depends on it). I've found my motivations. From a lack
of a girlfriend to being bullied while growing up to lack of recognition from
my peers and family to the sudden violent death of my mother. I've collected my
share of emotional baggage.
My
Sensitivity Complex
11-15-02: I do
feel like I am in crisis with my art and my life. Mainly, I don’t know why I
should keep creating art when it comes in between my having a “normal” social
life. I feel that I’m breaking down every so often because I know how much I
need to have a love life and friends. I can’t just have my artwork that I’ve
been making love to for years. And I have to question if it’s possible to have
both co-exist. Society doesn’t support my artwork. I can’t sell in galleries
since it’s digital and time-based. It’s not commercial enough to appeal to a
wide audience. I feel that my extremely personal artwork is doomed for
obscurity even though I know it’s good, that sensitive people can
empathize with it, and that I put the ultimate depths of my heart and
imagination into it. I feel betrayed that I took my life, gave my soul, and got
“nothing” back. It’s a sad love relationship. What else can I do with this
creative force that’s within me? The world respects and yearns for John Lennon
or Kurt Cobain because they expressed things so raw and new that they
reinvented rock and roll. I followed those types of confessional role models
for my entire mature life. So where’s my place?
Super Heroes and
Artists
11-15-02: There
are important similarities between super heroes and artists. Both have special
powers and an obsessive duty to their cause/ fight. The duality issue is also
present. Super heroes sometimes live a normal life with a secret identity.
Artists like myself live normal lives while holding a special talent of
unusually high levels of creativity, imagination, and artistic skill. We’re
both special people. We’re sometimes even considered outcasts or freaks. We’re
sometimes loved and sometimes alienated and even hated. Society doesn't
"understand" us.
The Artist vs.
Athletes
11-16-02: I’m not in my realm with sports. I’d adore
beating athletes in my home turf of creating art! Imagination! Creativity! It’s
the biggest crown and trophy one could ever “receive”. I want to be the King of
the Universe! It’s an obsessive pursuit for closure. After all, I grew up an
artist in a small town world of sports, sports, and sports.
My Artist's
Declaration
11-17-02: I live my life as an artist working without
commission. I’m making art for the sake of making art. I need to create this
art for myself because it makes my life more extraordinary. Isn't that enough?
I Am an Artist Hybrid
of Society
11-17-02: I
hate small talk, which explains my limited social life. I’m not a normal human
being at all. I do think I’m an extraordinary individual based upon how hard I
work. I am beyond people’s expectations. I’m so different that people swear
that I’m gay because they can’t figure me out. (Obviously since I listen to the
Pet Shop Boys, I must be gay!! But oops! I also have 15 Eric Clapton
albums, 3 Al Green albums, and 5 Guns ‘N Roses albums! Does that make me a
brilliantly tormented alcoholic-heroin-addict-guita-god-groupie, a faithful
servant of a once lustful Baptist preacher, and a womanizing white trash media
circus freak?) I am a hybrid of society with the sweetness of sentimental
surrealism.
Stay Active and
Creative
11-18-02: As a good artist, you have to believe in
your ability to continuously create challenging art with a solid sense of
artistic motivation. It has to be more important than fame and fortune. You
have to have space to grow creatively. Once one allows oneself to be confined
to their trapping as an artist, they lost their innovative instincts. They
become restricted. It is utmost important to always stay active and creative.
You have to constantly experiment and change in order to stay inspired and even
interested in making art. You can't repeat yourself, or your work will bore you
senseless.
My Life of Surrealism
11-22-02: I’m a
surrealist because of the things that don’t make sense in my life. I can eat
loads of candy, but I end up looking skinnier than I was. (Seriously!) If I go
on a diet and don’t eat any sugar, I gain a gut. Life is a contradiction to my
existence.
"Creative
Class"
11-25-02: I am
not middle class, white-collar class, upper class, sophomore class, or English
class. I am part of the "creative class".
Where Is the Grand
Payoff Already?
12-1-02: What
makes me so special? Why am I being so “self-indulgent” and writing about
myself? What makes these words meaningful or worthy of existing?
I feel that I have paid a high price for my ambition
by allowing myself to spend so much time by myself in seclusion and be
introspective away from distractions so that I can produce a lot of good artwork.
I’ve been doing it! Now where is my payoff!?!
Dating My Freedom
12-5-02: I just had an extraordinary realization.
I’ve been dating my freedom for the past few years. Or perhaps I've also been
f$%ing my freedom as well. I don’t have normal family or relationship commitments.
And that makes me wonder if I really want to give up that solitude, privacy,
peace of mind, and freedom to do whatever I choose. If I didn’t have those
things in my life, my work and art would have suffered. Instead of being a
college instructor, I’d probably be working as a librarian in the media section
or a video store clerk. Perhaps I am too independent. Perhaps I am a genuine
and proud loner. Would you give up being surrounded by all this fantasy, art,
music, and movies for reality? In a way, in the pursuit of staying an artist,
I’ve resisted “growing up” and living in reality with all of its excessive, restrictive
responsibilities. I don’t know. Everything’s up in the air right now.
Winter Time: Stay
Indoors and Get Creative
12-7-02: When
the seasons change to winter and the weather is gray, bitterly cold, and snow/
ice, it is a true introvert’s delight. There is no reason to go outside and
plenty of reason to stay indoors and work, write, create art, listen to music,
and watch movies. In fact, some days you have no choice because the weather
really is that bad. They world could be miserable, but inside my apartment and
mind there’s a party going on! There may seem like there’s nothing to do; but
if you have the imagination for it and the artistic motivation, you are in for
the ride of your life. Crappy weather gives you no better reason than to stay
indoors and get creative!
If My Mother Were
Alive Today…
12-7-02: You
know, if my mother were alive today, she really would be impressed by
what became of me. I hadn’t realized that. I made “something” of my life. She
would have been impressed that I became a college instructor at an art school.
That humbles me… and I feel like crying.
I Can Be My Own
"God"
12-15-02:
No wonder I prefer art so much more than real
life and social situations. I can be my own "God" (no offense to the
real One) and create my own spectacular world where I can be free in. What can
be more satisfying!?! Sex with a partner can only do so much for you until it stops thrilling. Art allows one to
constantly recreate oneself and be original. Art is freedom. Art is ecstasy. Art is orgasmic! I met so many people who clearly spend more time talking
than working – and they mock those who spend too many hours in front of the
computer rather than dating. Well, excuse me for bringing up some truth here,
but how else do you get good at something? I’m too honest with myself to
fake that I have intelligence and emotions. I really do have them – and by God
I’m going to use them to create art rather than small talk!!
What If...?
12-24-02: During this holiday vacation, I’ve realized
that it was a year ago that I was scrambling to get my demo reel done to send
to CCAD for a job. Nothing was certain and I pondered my future options. This
week, I considered the alternate future where I didn’t get that job at CCAD and ended up living with my dad. It was
a realistic possibility. He wouldn’t have minded. He would have enjoyed the
company. I would have buried myself in my artwork and writing, as well as all
the trappings of watching free library DVDs and reading comics. Living under my
dad would have melted my sense of freedom and eccentricity. I’d be living under
his rules now. I wouldn’t know who to go out with and meet. I’d have no real
friends in
The Ups
and Downs of Family Gatherings
12-25-02: I did figure out why I don’t
socialize that much with my family: they’re not very “complicated”. They like
cute, pretty things for Christmas (scented candles, white teddy bears, and
angels). Their conversations are usually ordinary – rarely or ever creative or extraordinary. There are few surprises –
just repeats of old conversations. My mind is stiffened from boredom and can’t
find anything to share with them that they would truly appreciate hearing… let
alone empathize and understand. I can tell from the movies they like to watch.
Only their existence and presence keeps me from going lonely this holiday – and
I do appreciate that. Yet I feel that
I’m more comfortable talking to strangers than to my own family. With anonymous
people, I know they won’t immediately judge me or look down on me. I need that
type of people with open minds instead of already set-minded personalities.
Having Real Emotional
and Mental Relations
12-25-02: During Christmas
family get-togethers, I am the anti-gabber. I’d rather leave the room than
listen to endless rivers of small talk that I’ve heard before. We may be
related, but we’re not emotionally or artistically connected. We share similar memories and we grew up together.
That’s what truly makes us family. Yet having similar blood doesn’t mean much.
To me at this point in my life, real emotional and mental relations are more important and physical similarities.
I Thrive
Off of Eccentricity
12-27-02:
I thrive off of eccentricity as an
emotional electricity. Without it, I’m just a dead weight of flesh – a shy
nobody. I act quiet and awkward since I’m unable to express myself in an
environment that doesn’t allow me to grow.
I’m left feeling angry, repressed, depressed, and impatient. (See! I can solve
my own problems through introspection!! Fuck psychiatrists! I’m the best for
me!!!) Give me art and other artists! They understand. They empathize. They know. I just need some quiet time… to
escape. Now how does one explain that
to one’s own family!?! (This is why I was getting so stressed out if I didn’t get the job at CCAD. I’d be broke and be forced to live with
my father. It’d kill me slowly and subtly – and I’d know it.)
Dressing
Differently/ Thinking Differently
While shopping at the Lima Mall,
I realized that I would never wear clothing that has more personality than I
do... especially when other people are wearing the same clothes and look the
same. They all have the same "personality".
12-27-02: For
me, shopping is worse than a visit to the dentist, where at least there are no
lines or unfulfilling choices there. I am not the master of my domain when
shopping for clothes and stuff. If you don’t dress normal, people will hate
you, insult you, and ultimately alienate you. And in my personality, thinking
different is so vital to me. So
shopping becomes a complex conflict within – to be oneself while conforming to
culture. “Looking good” with clothes is ridiculous to me since other people are
seeing a façade of me. And most people don’t want to see the real me with all
of its wild colors and challenging imagination. They’ll never get it. So I wear
what people would feel comfortable seeing me wear – meaning conformity. I bought a black suit for my
funeral… and for other people’s weddings and graduations.
Living
Life High on Chaos
12-27-02: This
life is so crazy that I don’t see any reason
to hold a normal life – a sane life… a stable mind. Existence is beyond me, let
alone for all humans. They may think they know what they’re doing, but it’s all
an illusionary disguise to hide that we haven’t got a clue to why we’re even
existing. We don’t know – therefore, due to admitting this sincerely – we are
left unto our chaos. God (?) - God help us now. I’m not simple-minded
enough to believe in God. I’m too sensitive. I wish I were more naïve and
neutered. (But who am I to say that there isn’t a “God”? I don’t know for
certain.)
Virgins of Creativity
12-29-02: As far as I’m concerned, 99% of the whole
human race are virgins as far as dealing with their imaginations. People fuck
and drink so much and brag about how bloody “experienced” they are – yet they’ve hardly been creative a day in
their life since they were 7 years old!
Fear of Inactivity
and Repetition
12-31-02: Two
of the things that I dread the most in my existence are inactivity and
repetition. I’ve woken up several mornings feeling emotionally dry… unable to
appreciate being alive because I wouldn’t have anything creative or productive
to accomplish. And if it is something I’ve done before, the activity becomes depressingly routine. I will often use
up any free time that I might have by watching movies. But after several days,
I can’t take any more out of sheer exhaustion. It takes the wind out of my life
sails.
The Freedom of Being
Single
1-4-03: You know, the more I think about it, being
single means complete and total freedom. I don’t have to deal with any
distractions, children, or any family problems. I don’t have money dilemmas or
pregnancy scares. I’m free to spend my time any way I see fit. It’s liberating.
Why get into a relationship that isn’t “right” and would damage my lifestyle.
Sure, being in a relationship means taking a risk, but I’m too wise that I
already know what women will work with me or not. Unfortunately when you’re in
your twenties, most women (and men) don’t have their shit together yet. I know
that from past romantic experiences. I’m tired of it. It has been three years
since I’ve had a deeply serious love life. Yet I can’t let that bring me down.
I’ve gotten my shit together through hard work, patience, and focus. I’m
no longer a desperate lost spirit in high school and college wondering what
I’ll do for the rest of my life. I don’t always enjoy being single, but I do
relish my freedom. I’m not going to go into a relationship just to be in a
relationship and to get laid regularly. Forget it. I’m too sensitive to do
that. I don’t like hurting people by informing them that I don’t want their
affection or love anymore. I don’t like repeating those types of surreal
confrontations. I’m perfectly aware that I’m an acquired taste and I don’t get
along with the average, ordinary girl. She’s got to be “special”, unique,
eccentric, yet stable, sexy, sensitive, and secure with herself. (That narrows
down four billion people to eight scattered anonymously across the globe who
are already in relationships. I may have to broaden my search.)
Love What You Do
1-8-03: Looking back at my past, what truly got me
through my undergraduate and graduate studies was that I really loved what I
was doing. I adored creating imaginative, creative art. It gave my life
meaning. So why not sacrifice my energy, my time, my mind, my very life to its
creation? It was as self-gratifying as it was exhausting – and it was worth it.
An Artist Amongst
Family
1-11-03: I can understand why I’m not necessarily close
to my family. As an open-minded, ever-changing artists, I dislike the confines
of my conservative family. There is little room to grow and be different. They
don’t want new ideas, music, thoughts, or feelings brought to a dinner table.
They want stability. And I thrive on chaos of creativity! They are not used to
seeing their brother or son act so bizarrely eccentric and expressive. They’re
not receptive to having such wild mood swings or ecstatic emotions – let alone
to be blood-related to one. But that's what being a real artist is all about!
Feeling life to its fullest! I don’t hate or dislike my family. I just don’t feel it’s right to be expected to be like them and call them up every week.
Why would I tell them about how my week went when it doesn’t have any real
implications in relation to their lives?
Why would I talk to them about Woody Allen or Björk when they don’t have
any interest in them? And yet these
are the people that are in my mind this week! I want to talk about them, but
they have no real interest in them! I want intellectual and creative
conversations, but they can't give me that. And other people (artists,
musicians, moviemakers) do, so I’d much rather talk to them about these
individuals. Different people offer change.
And change is what excites me. I
don't feel that I’m being that selfish - I'm trying to survive and thrive as an
artist. And this is the only way. Family offers security. Yet too much of
family can be insufferably dull. So I only talk to my family when I really have
something to say or express with them. I love my family. I really do. But
sometimes it's best in small doses. We've changed, and that's okay. I just
don't want to be living a boring life. I've only got so much time. If they offer me small talk, I
lose interest immediately and have to fake being a brother. I want to be a real
person who lived a full life - not an average life. I've got too many ambitions
inside of me. And that makes me a tormented, conflicted soul. I wish I could be
a better brother. I really do. But I've grown up. I can't be the ideal brother
anymore. I have to be me. I have to be free. Can't you see?
1-11-03: Suddenly
with an undercurrent of panic attack dwelling up in me on a lonely Saturday night,
I saw Eric Homan as other people do compared to everyone else. I got this gift
from seeing a character in a movie (The Tao of Steve) that acted and
reminded me of myself. And so I listened to what other people were
"saying" about me: “He’s a failure. His work is too arty for
festivals.” And I used to believe that all it took was hard work and some
talent. “Yet all he does it live like a hermit in his apartment and never gets
a girl to get himself laid. What’s up with that? What’s wrong with him?” I’m losing
my mind from no social life, but rationalizing my watching movies and doing art
to build up my creative and artistic self. “Yeah, he’s got a full-time job, but
what else does he got? He’s a loner for Christ’s sake!” I’ve got to break out.
“I don’t know. He’s okay-looking. But isn’t that other guy so cute!?” I’m
fuckin’ fed-up with it. I can’t be single any more. Screw being patient!
This sucks!!!!!!$!!!!!!! *%$#^@!!!!!
I’m woken up. My Dinner With Andre told me too many truths about life
and it really upset me… unraveled me. I’ve been “asleep”, sleepwalking through
my days with dreams and ideas in my mind that simply don’t involve a social
life. So I stay indoors and work with my dreams. (I feel like crying.) I have a
bigger private life with my imagination than I do with any one person. I’ve
allowed my obsessive desires to become “a great and successful artist” trap me into a life of loneliness. It's
so true. Or maybe I was born into that type of life of loserdom. Being a
dreamer was just part of the package. It’s the truth. I can’t break out of this
mold… or I don’t think I can easily break out. Am I indeed too far gone
to change? I fantasize and masturbate myself into a state of “contentment”
until I start to notice the self-gratifying repetition of that solitary
practice. Once again, I’m making love to my imagination through myself. I’ve
spent almost the past ten years picking up movies and music rather than chicks
because they’ve been giving me more emotional pleasure and have been more
reliable. Once again, maybe I haven’t met the right woman. I did grow up in a
small town. Yet, I’ve been escaping for my entire life. I’ve got to stop
running. I’m running away. It’s always been my rebellious fantasy. To steal
away into the sunset, away from all the world’s problems. I want to wear a
mask, like a superhero, so no one knows the real me. I’m in hiding. I have to
come out now. I want to come out now. I want to break free of myself. I want to
live anew. I want a new me. It begins here.
I know what I must do now. I have to make having a
social life my primary goal. I have to let my creative endeavors be secondary. I wasn’t getting an audience
anyways with the work I did. Now let the self-healing begin. Amen.
The Emotional
Aftershocks the Following Morning
1-12-03: Waking
up this morning was like having an emotional hangover. The realizations I had
last night still reverberated through my nerves. I didn’t know what to do. What
is my first step towards self-recovery when there are no paths to follow? I
suppose the first step is simply getting out of bed.
I had that edgy, nervous feeling throughout today. My
entire body felt completely intense and vulnerable. I was alive in clandestine
fear. I hadn’t felt such a terror since I was an undergraduate and didn’t know
exactly what I was doing with my life. I like having control. Last night and
today I lost my sense of control and had to fake that I knew what I was doing.
There was too many things I wanted fixed in my life. I could only take baby
steps by at least getting out of my apartment by going down to High
Street for Thai food and used CD shopping. I didn’t need to do either and I
didn’t get much. My heart was aching.
It was a day where the voice of Neil Young singing “Thrasher” spoke straight to
me.
“I am a child,
I last a while. You can't conceive of the pleasure in my smile. You hold my
hand, rough up my hair. It's lots of fun to have you there. I gave to you now
you give to me. I'd like to know what you are. The sky is blue now and so is
the sea. What is the color when black is brown? What is the color?” –“I Am a
Child” by Neil Young.
Finally, A Good Family Conversation
1-12-03: And
then the most odd, uncanny thing happened. A telephone ring, it was my dad and
we had an hour long conversation about relationships, dying, wills, fortunate
careers, money, and life in general. We even acknowledged how nice it was to
have a talk about things of substance. We actually had something to say to each
other. We were both depressed the past few days and it was a relief to have
someone to talk to – an release. We were both feeling vulnerable. We discussed
how some people are happier being single. We didn’t sag into depression, but
actually tried to talk about things with a life-long experience. It was the
best thing that happened all day - making a real
connection with my father. This wasn't small talk. This was a call where we
both actually had something to say. It was actually quite quietly incredible,
yet deeply cathartic.
An Impossible
Situation
1-15-03: The
death/ decease of the creative spark/ spirit begins with becoming domestic and
having a family. Yet when you're single and have all the freedom of the world,
the creativity flows freely when you’re knee deep in a constant flow of
artistic inspiration from movies, comics, and music. But what a conflict this
creates. You want a lover and a family, but you also want your creativity to
stay intact. It's an impossible situation being an artist.
My Bachelorhood vs. My Art
1-16-03:
For so many weeks now, I’ve been heavily down on
myself for being single and choosing art over having a private life. Is "fucking" one’s imagination “worse”
than fucking a beautiful woman? I’ve taken for granted my “successes” in having
a focused education and a good career in teaching. I’ve forgotten that there
are guys out there just like me who are single, graduated from art school, and
are creative – but they don’t have the inner confidence of having a good job in
the field they really want to be in. What I have that others don’t is focus. I knew what I wanted in the end. So I suppose I was lucky
that way.
The Challenges of a
Bachelor Artist
1-16-03: It
makes complete and total sense to be a bachelor artist. You don’t want all the
pressures and turmoil of a faulty personal life competing and messing up with
your own personal demons. It’ll feel like a total emotional collapse. So it’s
"wiser" to wait for the right woman than to jump off a cliff into
relationships that don’t have any ground under them. I sacrificed a great deal
when I was in my twenties. Instead of screwing around (pun intended), I worked
on getting an education and a career.
The Curse of Being A
Single Artist
1-16-03: It’s
true that our society shoves it in your face that if you’re not dating someone
or married that you’re an outcast or a “loser”. It’s a sickness in our world.
No wonder I “retreat” or make up my own worlds to live in. This world really
does “reject” me. (Or maybe I do need to start “making an effort”… But is it
worth giving up all the creativity that I’ve inspired to?)
I’m Still Dreaming
1-16-03:
I’m still dreaming. I haven’t given up yet
unlike my peers. You’re telling me that I’m not having fun? Have you seen my
dreams?!? They sure beat the redundancy of your sex life and relationship! I
nurture my imagination while others fuck theirs away! “My week beats your year! My week beats your year! My week beats your
year! My week beats your year!” (Thank you, Lou Reed, for the quote.)
Teaching Philosophy
1-23-03:
As an instructor at the Columbus College of Art
and Design in the division of Time-Based Media Studies, I've taught Computer
Animation I, Video I, Video II, and Advanced Time-Based Projects. My goals in
these classes were to provide students the appropriate content for creative and
technical growth in each due subject. With the complexity of teaching with
high-end computer animation and non-linear video editing software, I've taken
great care in finding the right balance of how much information to provide on a
week-to-week basis to students who are also taking several other challenging
and time-consuming courses each semester. Each week in class we break up the
time through tutorials that we go through together so that everyone can be kept
up and no one is completely left behind. With the expansiveness of the software
and topics that I teach, I've been sensitive to not providing too much
technical information that might cause confusion or discouragement within the
students' bound of understanding. I usually have to take myself out of my
instructor's position and try to think like a student in my class to determine
what is the right amount of work to challenge them without losing their
interest or their minds. Through years of teaching classes, I've worked out a
schedule for myself of what should be covered every week that has worked well
in past semesters and, I'm pleased to recognize, worked terrifically last
semester as well. Since many of the students learn at different rates when it
comes to left-brain technical information (like a complex computer animation
package like Maya), I encourage those who are ahead of our weekly class lessons
to feel free to work ahead on topics that will continue to challenge them.
Creative-minded artists often struggle a bit at first with learning a new
canvas like 3-D computer animation. For those who are learning at a slower pace
than others, I take time aside with them to review what we've covered to catch
them up with the rest of the students. I was one of those students myself who
was slow in those classes, so I feel that I have plenty of empathy for their
struggles. There is not as much instant gratification with working with
computer animation since it's mostly a technical challenge for the first few
months of using it, which causes some students to feel upset. I work on
displaying patience with the students and to not get discouraged with technical
problems that come along the way of creating creative work on the computers. So
far, I feel that I have been successful in motivating students to create the
best possible work they can within the course of the class. I try to employ a
sense of fun as well as a seriousness to the content of the course. Sometimes,
I've had to stop myself from perhaps joking around too much and get back to the
seriousness of teaching. It's a hard balance to maintain that has taken a few
years to work out. I can't be too serious or students will get bored with the
technical aspects of what I teach. Yet with every semester, I feel that I am
getting closer to finding that correct attitude and mindset through my classes.
In addition, I strive to keep providing a dedicated enthusiasm for the subject
matter through the creation of my own individual personal artwork in the fields
I teach so students can see that the subject matter can be applied in creative
methods rather than strictly commercial means.
I make it known to my students or any media studies
student that they can reach me in my office during my office hours throughout
the week, or whenever they can reach me while I am at the school and not in
class. Also, students keep in contact with me throughout the week and weekend
through email, for which I constantly check at least once per day. So if they
ever have a problem or question that needs answering, they can get a prompt
answer. I have also written letters of recommendation for exceptional students
who have come to me for such a letter of merit for a scholarship, graduate
school, or a job position.
My Schizophrenic
Introvert/ Extroverted Duality
1-26-03: It’s
an odd conflict that’s been created. I can either be seduced into the
introverted worlds of watching movies and creating art or the extroverted
worlds of going out with friends and finding a lover. Very rarely do these two
mix. It’s a schizophrenic, duality existence of being introverted/ artistic and
extroverted/ outgoing.
Defending
My Personality Differences to My Family
1-26-03: This
afternoon while I was watching DVD extra features, my sister Lara called me up.
While she was asking me about my life/ my classes/ my love life, I wasn’t
responding back to her much. I wasn’t in much of a mood for futile small talk. I was in a more artistic mindset -
meaning that I was looking for inspiration to help me create some new work. Yet
then Lara subtly started to get on my case about how I don’t follow through in
sustaining a relationship with Tanya and herself. Then and there, I woke up. I
had to defend myself and the individualist life I’ve led. I had to articulate
for her the gap – the enormous valley
– between us as we’ve slowly grown apart since we left the nest of our home
when we each graduated high school and went off to college. We’re not the same
anymore and we don’t have the same interests. It's a sad fact of life, but it's
true. Then I let her talk, that in relationships people don’t have the same
relationships and they need to compromise their interests in order to keep that
relationship intact. So I verbally injected that I’ve found people to be with
who do have a deep knowledge for
movies, music, and art that are not in the mainstream. Some of my friends have
more than a trivial knowledge of the movies, music, and art. Can't she see that
I’m beyond domestic lifestyle
pursuits! I've read too many books, listened to too many incredible music
albums, and watched too many great movies. I’m more interested in those people
(usually artist/ intellectual types) who discuss things that are offbeat,
unusual, provocative, enlightening, ridiculous, imaginative, and stimulating
than those who I am related to who often just talk about the weather. I’m
interested in the risk-takers and the dreamers, not the homemakers and the
churchgoers. She responded to this by coldly thinking that I didn’t want to be
associated to her or the rest of my family. Yet that was a gross, kneejerk
oversimplification on her part. So I confidently explained myself that things
are not in black and white. I still want to have a relationship with them –
just not every week because of our personality differences. Do I enjoy being
around them on holiday and every few months – absolutely! They’re good people! Lara told me that she felt
“sad” for me if I "can’t communicate to other people on the same level
other people can". There was a great deal of truth to that – but it is a
fact that I’ve readily accepted by now. When you're an artist, you are not
thinking and feeling like other people. Your dreams are simply not the same.
Yet I’m comfortable with my life and the choices I’ve made. I understand the sacrifices
that I've had to make. If you’re a dreamer you have to make these sacrifices in
order to not be around people who are going to let you down with “mediocrity”
or waste your time with trivial pursuits (like playing games or watching
sports). I'd rather hang out with people who at least know who the Beatles are
and know their songs! I added: “If playing board games every week makes them
happy, that’s fine. But doing those activities isn’t for me. I'd rather be
learning, educating myself, getting better, writing, expressing myself
artistically, and growing as a creative human being. I know I'm missing out on
simply being a normal human being along the way. But I need to get better. It's
my dream and aspiration. I have no right to tell others how to live their life,
but I do have to look out for myself.”
By this point Lara told me her head was getting full.
She’s put me against the judgmental wall before and really made me look at
myself hard that I needed to change my ways. This time I had gone through all
the introspection and guilt and came out with the answers that I needed to
defend my personality's actions and reason them to her without acting stupid. I
do feel guilty for not being the brother they want me to be, or who I used to
be. BUT
I GREW UP!!! I don’t shop at thrift stores anymore. Sorry. Just because
you saw a commercial blockbuster Steven Spielberg movie doesn’t mean we’ve got
so much in common. 50 million people saw that movie – so what? I’m sorry
(and I’m not sorry) that I think more of the people who saw the more unique and
independent Spike Jonze or Martin Scorsese movies instead. “I love you”, Lara - not just because we’re related - but
because of the experiences we’ve shared together through our lives.
Normally in the past after such psychoanalysis, I’d
feel extremely depressed and emotionally ravaged. Instead, I felt renewed that
I could uphold myself without stuttering a beat. I don’t have to be dating
someone just because that’s what’s expected of me by society! And I realize now
that I shouldn’t feel pressured to rush into a relationship either. I want to
date someone, but I “haven’t found anyone yet”. I know that’s “sad”, but I at
least have an idea of who I’d like to date. And unfortunately in my life, I’d
had bad luck with who I could date without something getting in the way. But
I’m more confident than ever about my prospects. I’m optimistic. There’s
nothing sad about striving for one’s dreams and never making it. It was the
thrill of the creative journey that got me so high (and it was the alienation
of being an outcast that got me so low). I’ve watched 99% of the world’s
population “compromise” their dreams. Excuse me if I didn’t and patiently
worked mine through. I know it’s “sad” and it’s lonely – but at least I’m enjoying the ride.
And as strong-willed as I am (or act), I know that I
have some changing still left to do. I know that much is true. So it starts
now.
The Introspective
Struggle to Finish My Art
1-31-03: I have
realized through time and experience that whenever I have my sights on working
on an art project and it doesn’t come to fruition the way I had planned that I
get demoralized and devastated. The dream was lost. That happened to me today
when I tried to invite people to videotape their mouths talking so I could
composite that footage behind my computer animated footage for “Universe of
Dialogue”. Yet I kept getting people who were giving me uncertain, unnerved
stares when I asked them if I could film them. Students just aren’t as easy to
communicate to if you’re not one of them anymore. I had to abandon my ambitions
and work on something else. As a result, I reconsidered the entire digital
artwork itself and its purpose. Is it a mess about chaos? Am I getting
swallowed up in its vacancy? I sure felt like it. I was drowning in the
self-doubt and possible realization that my work still isn’t commercial enough
because it is self-expressive and
original. I felt like I had done so much hard work for nothing. Sure, the
artwork is fulfilling to me – but I’m
afraid that that isn’t enough anymore.
My Personality's
Duality
2-1-03: My
personality's duality is at war. I have an acute fear in public speaking. Yet
deep inside, I also feel like a born leader. That something unique with my
personality – the duality and conflict. This alchemy creates the awkward
passion within that fires me every day.
Losing Artwork
2-2-03: And so
today I had to deal with the reality of having lost all the content on my
faulty PC hard drive. Though 90% of the work had been backed up, I still lost
some crucial journal writing and hundreds of digital photographs that I had
taken over the past few months. I didn’t even have a chance to say “Goodbye”
to my artwork. The loss made me wonder if it was really important – was my work
just experimental exercises that could be discarded? I spend ten hours with
Ryan Treptow this Sunday standing by while as he worked on refixing my
operating system. For the past two weeks, I had been led to believe that my
work could be retrieved. It looked that way for most of the day until the drive
ceased from coming back up. Still weak and exhausted from having helped Ryan’s
friend Peter move out of his apartment for three hours, I was on the verge of
physical and emotional collapse. Ironically, it was the best I’d ever handled
losing creative work before. As I’ve thought before: “These things are bound to happen.”
2-3-03: Today I
had to get back to living and getting on with my art life again after learning
of yesterday’s death of some of my art and writing. I had to pick up the pieces
of my imagination and put the pieces back into place.
Defending Your
Individualism
2-7-03 (Written when I was single): As an individualist, I have to protest against some of
these accusations I’ve been hearing that I don’t have a “complete” life because
one doesn’t have a girlfriend or children. When you’re an artist, your art
becomes your love life because the sense of creation is like procreation. There
is an orgasmic thrill to reaching into the depths of creativity and emotion
that can’t be discovered with a normal domestic life of family. Though
personally I do yearn sometimes to be “full” with the company of a kind
companion, I recognize the sacrifice that the artist makes in order to progress
their art. The average person doesn’t know how good it feels to do something
meaningful with one’s life! How grand it is to create art! They won’t know how
wonderful it feels to be able to express a creative mind through an artistic
medium. They won’t know the pleasure of having something artistically
meaningful to do with one’s existence. My life is of singular dedication to an
artistic vision. They will say it’s unnatural. I will say it’s extraordinary.
I will say one thing: on evenings, nights, and
weekends I actually have extra time for myself to stay at home and work on
redesigning my web page, work on photo retouching, and edit some writing. If I
had an overbearing social life, all this artwork wouldn’t exist. I wouldn’t
have the creative time to work. It’s that simple. I needed time without
distractions.
I want to make love to my dreams. I suppose that
makes me slightly asexual. Some women have gotten to have too much baggage for
me to handle. As Neil Young once sang, “better on down that road without that
load”. Goddamn the truth to that proclamation!
Shake Things Up
2-7-03: I believe it is a good thing to have a
catastrophe. We need to re-embrace our emotions and get back to our feelings.
We need to wake up. We need the intensity back. Eminem could be a Kurt
Cobain-like "anti-Christ" to the bland pop music out there dominating
the airwaves – and that could be a very good thing for music. The art
world, music world, and movie world get too complacent. They need to be shaken
up every so often to keep them from getting stale.
The Surrealism of
Teaching at One's Alma Mater
2-7-03: God, being back
in
The Personal
Sacrifice of Personal Art
2-8-03: It’s
hard for me to look at some of the artwork that I do since I recognize the
personal sacrifice I made to my private life in order to create such images and
ideas. I had to obsess over the details instead of engaging myself in
conversations with family and friends. And in most cases, I chose creating art
over having a relationship. It’s a bittersweet experience of simultaneous
bliss/ despair. I succeeded and failed completely.
Remaining
Young In Spirit
2-13-03: I enjoy
exploring the imagination. It is what gives me pleasure and happiness in life.
I can do it through creating art, watching lots of good movies, reading comic
books, and listening to music. Some might call this being in a state of
suspended adolescence. I call it saying young in spirit instead of old
in heart.
Art - A
Greater Alternative to Sex
2-14-03: I can sense
that people look down at me and question what I’m doing without a girlfriend
all the time. “Is he gay or something?” They see me as a loner – with the
connotations of “loser” attached to it. They don’t understand that I do work
and focus on self-expression and creative thought. To them, it’s a
pointless activity. To me, it’s a greater alternative to sex. Only an artist
could understand that.
Use Your Artists
Properly
3-5-03: Artists
being reduced in our society to petty jobs at fast food restaurants is like
having super heroes working as janitors. It’s a crazy and severe waste of
creative talent and power. I have this gift to express our human race’s deepest
emotions and dreams, and very few wish to see it. Yet at least I have a job in
my area of artistic interest. I know several of my former classmates who
weren't nearly as fortunate. And it wounds me deeply to see them working odd
jobs just to make rent or pay for groceries. I just feel that artists should be
respected rather than left out like trash on the street. I believe art should
serve a purpose to society. That is an artist's responsibility. We shouldn't
just be doodling and making crap. Yet when we make art of a serious nature that
benefits one's community and serves an actual purpose to other human beings to
help understand themselves and their emotions better, I feel the artist should
be rewarded and compensated for that. I've fulfilled this task several times
throughout my life. Yet artists like me have been continually ignored and even
ridiculed for expressing ourselves. Again, I feel fortunate to have a full-time
teaching job to help others learn how to express themselves in a professional
art world. Yet where are the grants? There's so much talent out there that
isn't being rewarded for their sacrifice. And that's a deeply personal tragedy
to behold. Artists are society's super heroes that often go unnoticed. When
fully focused and directed, they can make the world a more beautiful place to
be. And if they say: “He’s got issues.”
Well, you better have “issues” if you’re doing art! That's a price you
take by being artistic. Where else will you find the content and the passion
to do work!?
Release All This Tension Inside as Art
3-18-03: What an incredible
unifying element the world of Earth has this morning: the threat of war with
My Built Fantasies
Beat Your Rundown Conversations
3-25-03: While browsing around Half Price Books, I
found myself stuck in having to overhear the cashiers and book sorters banally
gab and gab about their opinions on the week’s events, TV shows, and the
Oscars. Immediately, it dawned on me why I rather stay in my daydreams. They’re
far more entertaining and rewarding company!! I mean, if you know what type of
artwork I’ve done, wouldn’t you want to live there too? It’s unlike anything
you’ve been to before. Why “reduce” myself into trite conversation when I can fantasize? So that’s why I’m always
frequenting used bookstores, used CD stores, and comic book stores: I’m looking
for ideas and images, dialogue and character, soundscapes and stories. I’m
looking for treasures untold. They’re like a creativity convention of authors,
artists, visionaries, dreamers, revolutionaries, actors, musicians, and, most
importantly, peers. These are the things that make me feel free. I’ve got to let my spirit go.
Dealing with
Rejections
3-28-03: Predictably
for the fifth year in a row, one of my computer animation pieces didn’t
get selected for SIGGRAPH. That rejection left me feeling lost and confused
about my artwork since it’s never getting accepted there – and I’ve got several
former classmates who have gotten in. Is my work not breathtaking enough? With
my dreams rejected, I felt like I was left in limbo with a panic attack
swarming into my being. Suddenly, I was filled with a restlessness and
desperation just like I felt every week while at CCAD. An incoming cold and the
lack of sleep I got last night also contributed to my sudden loss of
self-esteem. Even the sunlight teased me with its pleasantness in the midst of
a personal great depression. The sun made
me shiver. I felt aimless… pointless, agonizing with a depressive energy. I
am one of the turned down. Thankfully, I don’t take SIGGRAPH all that seriously
since it’s not dedicated to showcasing experimental or personal art work.
This further rejection only counters how the notion
that I have to work harder for acceptance. And yes, that means being self-involved. I’m afraid that means
sacrificing from having a social life. And when I finally receive that
long-desired recognition, I’ll be too emotionally lost and empty to care for
it. Still, I know I’m a good writer and a good artist – yet I’ve been working
for eight years now on my artwork and I’ve barely gotten much critical support
of it.
I
almost prefer the fact that my dad and family aren’t that interested in my
artwork… let alone understand it. I am aware of its emotional implications that
it takes on my vulnerable psychosis and actually drives me to work harder. He gives me a reason to be ambitious.
I've Grown Well Beyond
My Coldwater Roots
3-29-03:
I’ve changed. I’ve grown up and out of
the small town life and mentality. So how could I continue hanging out with
those guys I used to know. The only one I truly cared about and felt personally
close to was my friend Joe Pleiman. He’s been the main hometown friend I still
keep in some contact with to this day. We shared our problems, family, and
sense of humor together quite regularly throughout junior high and high school.
Yet even with him, I feel slightly
estranged from because I've grown into being an artist so much. When I came to
art school, I found my true people – the creative artists. These were the
people who had original ideas, visions, deeper emotions, poems, paintings,
concepts, and greater content within them than anywhere else I’ve known. When I
entered that environment, I changed forever. I’d always felt different – like
an outcast – when living in Coldwater. I never dug sports, proms, cars, and
Catholicism – all things that my hometown was all about. I adored movies,
music, art, or comic books. So I started to enjoy the company of my fellow
artists more than my hometown friends. I went onto more intellectual
experiences. My hometown friends mostly didn’t have grandiose ambitions like I
had. How could I possibly truly relate to them? Their ambition in life was to
get married, make babies, drink beer, and then die. Sorry, but I wanted more. In that small town
community, those were the most important society requirements in order to being
a “somebody”. God help me, I wanted
more… and that was what separated us (and I can’t express how I feel better
than that.) I’ve got my “good friends” in Columbus who I empathize with more
emotionally than my old hometown acquaintances. Like I said, I’ve changed. A
small town like my hometown of Coldwater and its people haven’t. They don’t
have an open mind. They wouldn’t understand me now especially if they didn’t
all that much back in high school.
What
spite, cynical bile I have to my past! God, it’s like I learned pure contempt
in high school more than any course I ever took. Ironically, I never did get to
take “Creative Writing”.
It
Reveals…
4-4-03: I’m a
joker. It reveals my sadness. I overact. It reveals my desperate need for
drama. I’m a compulsive movie watcher. It reveals my lack of connection with
human beings. I’m a self-deprecating writer. It reveals my silly suicidal sense
of humor.
Art Is Necessary
4-5-03: My life has taken on deeper meaning through
my artwork. I’ve spent a lot of time by myself creating art through my
feelings, experiences, memories, and emotions. So how can I fit in a social
life beside it? I nurtured my spirit and followed my dreams throughout my life.
I didn’t allow boring relationships to enter my world. Some called this sad on
my part to live a lonelier life. I considered it necessary in order to liberate
myself and my soul.
“What
the Hell Have I Done With My Life?!”
4-6-03: Asking myself the BIG question of “What
the Hell Have I Done With My Life?!” has evaded me for most of my conscious
existence. It forbids me from wasting my time with small talk and bland social
activities. I have found the deep need to create art that has a great
importance and depth to it that will allow it to last for ages. I also found
myself more attracted to the big conversations and grand expressions in
books, movies, music, and art. Can you blame me for this? Really and truly? I
felt the reality of being alive and wanted to make the most of it. Can
see my internal conflict and turmoil that I’ve had to deal with for my entire
life?
“A Fine Depression”
4-7-03: Dreamers have the very best depression. I
wake some mornings despising my repetitious existence and wanting more out of
life. I hated the fact that in most cases when I do go out of do something
different with someone, it usually ends up excruciatingly boring and dulling.
My dreams are simply better than this reality. I felt trapped. I can’t make
artwork every day to “save” myself with interesting visions and deep
expressions. At least, the music I’ve found soothes me down and up again. The
“Great Depression” becomes converted into being just the “Fine Depression”. We
dreamers convert our despair into something funny and creative. That is simply
how our minds control the tidal wave of wild ideas and worries.
“Feeling Shitty
Anonymous”
4-10-03: I’m feeling spiritually weak today with all
the side effects of emotional bleakness. My artistic ambitions are killing me. I want to impress and
inspire the world. But all I feel is that I’m barely reaching anyone. I should
start a group called “Feeling Shitty Anonymous” and hopefully meet a compatible
girl there.
No Choice But To Be
Different
4-10-03: I don’t see myself as being a normal human
being, nor could I ever wish to be one. I have
to be different. It builds me up in this world to be a “non-clone”. I was born
an individual and I intend to grow into being a great individual until I die. I
have no choice. I’ve gone too far to turn back into being bland and ordinary. I
must live an extraordinary life. I
choose art as my sword, my rifle, my cock, my pride, my face. It is what
makes ME. (This is what happens to you when you spend too much time
in doors isolated from society… dreaming and thinking instead of small talking
and screwing [up].)
Art to
Ecstasy
4-15-03: The
best thing in life is to create art. I sincerely believe this. Those people who
think that sex or drugs are the ultimate highs in life are naïve of what
expressing imagination and creativity can give oneself. Making art is the
greatest "high" one can ever experience or feel. It is amazing. To
see, imagine, feel, and dream of things others have never known - that is a
massive thrill.
“The Real World” Has
Become a Surreal World
4-19-03: People
tell me to start living in the real world. Well, with recent events, I’d say
“the real world” has become a surreal world, one far removed from sanity. So
why not remain living in a fantasy world of one’s own?
Should I Sacrifice My
Creativity for a Family?
4-21-03: I do have a lot
more to give up if I gave myself to a woman. Is ten years of artistic pursuit
worth giving up for a family life? I’m a man overflowing with creativity. Is it
worth giving it all up for the wife and children package life? It’s a
conflicted answer for me – a yes-no.
Funeral
Rights
4-22-03: I think
death really tweaked my point of view of existence. It no longer seemed
important to be normal in life. It’d just become too boring to exist. So I
provoked my being to be as eccentric and imaginative as possible. Some
people would protest that it is more important to have as many friends as
possible in life. If your funeral isn’t packed, you’re a failure in life. Well,
I protest. I may only have a handful at my funeral – but it’ll be packed
with all the extraordinary imaginary friends I made along the way. Is the
sacrifice of making art and becoming “brilliant” through countless hours of
work worth the lack of mass friendships? So I only had time to befriend a
handful of people, mostly in close proximity to me. I gave myself a legacy of
artwork and emotion. What a glorious funeral that lasts for centuries and
beyond thanks to artistically expressing myself instead of indulging in small
talk. Does it really matter how you think about me in this world? We’re just
little pieces of existence in the universe after all?!
I Know Who I Am
4-25-03: I’d
say I know who I am better than most people my age. I’m an artist and a
teacher… and I’m cool with that. If my artwork gets “recognized” and something
better comes around, then I’ll pursue that. But the chances of that happening
are, realistically, rather slim. I
know I’m a good artist and that keeps me sane. And that's where I'm at in my
life right now.
Fraternity Freaks vs.
Eric Homan on a Perfect Spring Day
4-26-03: I
opened my front door and felt the gorgeousness of an unexpectedly sunny spring
day outside. I immediately went out and drove over to those
The Sense of Humor of
Surrealism
4-27-03: One of
the most appealing aspects that pulled me towards the art movement of
Surrealism is that it has a sense of humor. If you can't laugh at the absurdity
of life, what else can you do? And that's where I've found my home: in the
lunatic world of Surrealism. It's more of a mirror of our current times than
any other art movement, with the exception of Dadaism. Both of these
afore-mentioned art movements are what makes up modern life as we know it. 9/11
is a perfect horrific example of daily life Surrealism. Sadly, 9/11 wasn't very
funny. Actually, it was more funny-sad how our life has changed. If you didn't
laugh at it all, you'd go mad.
A Relief To Remain an
Anonymous Artist
4-30-03: Upon learning that one of my favorite musicians,
Sinead O' Connor, was ceasing from making more of her art, I started an intense
discussion with my friend Justin Jason about fame. Indeed, who would want to be
invaded everywhere you go by fans, fanatics, and freaks.
We expressed how “glad” we were about being artists and not being
famous. It’s really quite a relief to remain an anonymous artist and be able to
remain creative under our own rules. Imagine not being to go out without people
staring at you – recognizing you – wherever you go. It’d be insane. I’d
treasure my privacy. I treasure my privacy even as an unknown artist! “Fame” –
such a mystical goal for millions of us in our idealistic naïve views of
“success” – really is a curse in the end. Yet, we (even myself) continue
to dream of what would be like to be “adored” and “admired” by millions.
(“That’d show all my high school classmates!”)
My Artwork Is My Love
Life
5-4-03: One of my colleagues at school mentioned that us
faculty in Time-Based Media Studies should have a gallery show together. She
further recommended it because it would “force us to get something done”. I
felt puzzled and laughed inside myself. She must have been talking about
everyone else in the room. What irony that because I’m a single guy and I’ve
had all the time and energy I could possibly need to work on my artwork. I envy
others who have love lives; and others envy me for having an artistic/ creative
life. Yet this is exactly why I guard and treasure my artwork so endearingly: my
artwork is my love life. They’re my lovers and my loves. I’m spending some
of my best sexual years of my life making love to my creativity and expressing
myself. And still there are others who have “wasted” these creative years
screwing around with women too much. I used all those hyperactive, vitally
manic, super-imagination for art. For most of those years, I sacrificed having
sex for expressing myself. I gave my art my full attention beyond what a normal
person would ever do. And so, I've managed to get a huge art portfolio created.
And the main reason I "got something done" was because I didn't have
much of a personal life. I worked and worked and worked. Once I got one art project
done, I went on to the next and the next and the next. I kept working to
alleviate my loneliness and to release my bent-up emotions.
Time To
Grow Up
5-8-03: This has got to be one of the scariest, most unnerving times of
the year for it is the end of the school year. The labs closed at noon and -
suddenly - there were no more students left. The routine of seeing people
making art and attending classes was over.
While at the “Exit Interviews” lunch gathering, I could see a confused
bleakness in the eyes of one of my most talented, creative senior students.
He’s also rather “out there” and bizarre, which makes him “unnecessary” and
excessive for the real world. I asked him what he was going to do after he
graduated. He responded that he didn’t have a clue. I felt a shiver of empathy
in me for I was once in his place - too creative and weird for the world. So
many art students going away to uncertain futures where they don’t know
where they’re going. They only know that they have to move out and away. Goodbye
good times and good friends. Goodbye to making art for your classes. It’s
really a traumatic time. It's like cutting the umbilical cord. I've gone
through these intense emotional upheaval pains. And today, I felt it all over
again. With this year-end celebration comes the death and demise of a lifestyle
for hundreds of these young artists. They’ll never know this grand, youthful
freedom again. Time to grow up.
You Have
To Compromise
5-8-03: You see, some of these art students are emotionally and
professionally prepared for the change. Others are not. For some of them, it
will take perhaps years or decades to finally grow up and leave wonder-wonder
land. Others got the "memo" and knew they had to have a serious
portfolio of professional work to land a job. Others let their creativity
over-nurture them. They still need to grow up and be part of the real world. I
feel that this is one of the hardest challenges for a real artist to deal with
and face maturely. You have to leave part of your childhood behind. This
doesn't mean forgetting your childhood self. You can still have that special
creative part inside of you that is so full of imagination. But you have to live
by the rules of the real world. You can't be creative and free all the time. You have to get a job and
be mature about it. Grow up. Be an adult. But don't lose all your dreams. You
have to compromise.
Art Without a
Deadline
5-8-03: When you make art without a
deadline for yourself, art becomes fun. It becomes an act of personal
expression play. When you have a deadline to make art, then it becomes work. See the difference.
Re-Graduation
Day
5-10-03: For the first
time in my existence, I got to walk with my fellow faculty members on stage in
the grand Ohio Theater during CCAD’s graduation ceremony. It was one of those
moments where I felt uplifted to a level of respect that I’ve yearned for since
I was a young boy. I remembered that during my own graduation ceremony from
CCAD in May 1998, I dreamed of becoming a college computer art teacher. This
morning, it truly felt like I was. Yes, it does mean something to me. I
looked upon the two thousand people gathered and felt appreciated. It was a day
of celebration for the faculty as well as the students. We all made it. And we
took a moment to applaud both of us. I was dressed in my graduation gown with
my Master’s Degree Yellow colored hood on me. Underneath, I wore a scarlet
shirt with a matching tie. At last, I looked professional… respectable.
Wild
Eccentricity Usually Has No Use In Society 99% of the Time
5-10-03: The
graduation ceremony was surprisingly enjoyable and positively uplifting for me.
Also being that this is an art school graduation, several of the graduates
“decorated” their gowns and caps to the point where they looked like they were
dressed for Halloween. It was unbelievable. Hell, even the president laughed as
he saw many of these outrageously dressed students. Yet the most interesting
garb was the more subversive and subtle. Two students wore fast food hats on
top of their caps – one for Tim Horton’s, the other for Burger King. That’s
quite a frightening and true statement to make about graduating from a
four-year art school program and suddenly realizing they have nowhere to go.
Then again, maybe they didn't work hard enough either. Maybe their attitudes
will keep them behind in life and their career. Those are all factors as well.
Yet their brand of innovative creativity and wild eccentricity usually has no
use in society 99% of the time. I laughed as they passed by. But I quickly fell
afraid that they just made their final artistic statement before entering the
real world. Well, then again, why not have fun with it one last time…
Making Art Is Easy
for Me…
5-11-03: It’s
ironic to me that in my life, creating good artwork has been the easiest part
of my life. It’s having a social life that I find such a struggle. And yet for
99% of society, it’s the other way around.
Finding the
"Freedom" to Work
5-12-03: I believe that I’ve been having the wrong
point of view on my new free time. Wasn’t it my idealistic dream after I
graduated from CCAD to live by myself and simply do my artwork for a living?
I’d have enough financial support for at least a few years from my savings.
That was my immediate, naïve plan back then. Now, I’ve got time over three
months to do whatever I please. It’s freedom that I’m not used to taking in
whole. I’m used to the commitment of a steady job, so this is quite the
switchback to my dream. Still, I’m going to re-learn to enjoy it. Yet the
downside to so much freedom and free time is the loneliness that comes along
with it. What happens on the days where I don’t feel inspiration and lose all
sense of purpose. "Freedom" indeed.
5-12-03: When you reveal one’s art to others, you
stand naked to the world with your private self exposed. You’re divulging your
sense of humor, your imagination, your perversions, your insanity, your
sensitivity, your emotions, your vulnerabilities, your genius, even your
weakness. It’s the ultimate test before others. You have everything to lose, or
maybe nothing to lose. In the end, it’s all a state of mind… your mind… on the
line, with a fancy border around it displaying in a museum somewhere.
Stay Changing
5-12-03: Contrary to some people’s beliefs, I’ve got
myself figured out pretty well. I know who I am. Yet, I’m always changing, so
I’ll never truly have myself “figured out”. That’s what keeps myself
interested in living and being alive with this eccentric and eclectic
personality I’ve got. I’ll always surprised by the choices I’ll make.
What Complete Despair
Feels Like
5-14-03: The
interesting thing about feeling despair is that time actually stops. You can sense every moment. There is no activity or
action. Life ceases to be. It ceases to be fun or interesting. The seconds last
forever. And for anyone whoever said
that time flies, they’ve never experienced total desperation before. It's a
very terrifying place and sensation to be.
Enjoy the Seclusion?
5-14-03: You
know, I’d really enjoy this seclusion I’m at in my solitary apartment if I
didn’t have the nagging thought that I need to have a social life… and a love
life. I have grown impatient with my life. I sense discomfort in my family and
friends with me being single for such a long time.
Looking for a Love…
5-14-03: People
probably think I’m gay because I don’t date regularly. Maybe I do “waste” too
much time looking for a woman who is intelligent, beautiful, artistic, and
independent-minded – four qualities that really are hard to find. I realize
that it’s a difficult combination to ask for. But I know there are women like
that out there. In my opinion, it’s the “normal” women that are a “waste of my
time”.
How Do I "Show
The World" What Amazing Creativity I've Got Inside?
5-14-03: If I
could just express and visualize what brilliant creativity I’ve got in me, I’d
be able to show the world what I’ve got stored existing in me. Yet it
doesn't always come out the way I want it to. It's the biggest struggle of
being an artist. Keep making art to get better and better. Sometimes it never
happens. It just goes on and on. Yet you have to keep the faith. You have to
keep working. And working. And working. Until death do you part. It is a lot
like being married to your art. You're that committed to it. I've got all this
amazing creativity inside of me. How to I express it properly and responsibly?
How do I "show the world" what Amazing Creativity I've got inside? Yet
the best way to become a good writer or artist is to keep writing and creating.
It’s how I’ve gotten to be where I’m at today. And I feel like I'm getting
closer every day. Yet some days I feel lost and so far away. I just have to
keep working at it.
A Romantic Relationship
Can “Wreck” One’s Dreams and Ambitions - And Vice Versa
5-17-03: There
is another reason why I’m shy about getting into a relationship – they can
“wreck” one’s dreams and ambitions. And if anyone knows me well enough, I’m an
extremely ambitious dreamer. So I'm weary of getting too serious, let alone
starting up a new relationship. Isn't that such a danger of being a reclusive
dreamer? You shut yourself off from the world and living so you can become a
better artist? What a cruel sacrifice. What a waste of one's life if your
dreams don't come true. I don't want to grow old and suddenly realize:
"Where is the love in my life?" Art can't love you back all that
easily. Yet I am so in love with making art. It's sort of like a doomed relationship
that burns oh so brightly.
I Have To Take a
Chance With Love Again
5-23-03: I
acknowledge now this morning that I need to open myself up to a woman
again – something I haven’t done in years. And it scared me quite a lot. I feel
so “powerful” with all my delusions and fantasies. “Being single is such a
terrific life.” “No distractions!” “No compromises in my professional life!”
“Great sex fantasy life!” are what I’ve been telling myself. But I’m dying as well as lying to myself. I’m
refusing myself a deeper human relationship. I’m too plagued with insecurities
of falling in love again and getting hurt bad. I’m too aware of the
flaws women (and myself) have and how they wouldn’t work in my contradictory,
complex life. (Examples: I’m an artist, but I’m not gay? I’m an artist, but I
don’t care for drugs? I’m a human being, but I haven’t given up on my dreams by
22? I’m a control-freak neat-freak, but my mind swarms with chaos?) I have to
take a chance.
I Need To Release
Myself
5-26-03:
I can’t help but create, be introspective, and
express myself. I need time during each day to simply release myself. I can
only be extroverted for only a limited amount of time before my body shuts down
on me. If I’m at a social gathering place for too long, I cease from talking
completely and walk around ready to collapse. My head develops a migraine and
my thoughts go into retreat. I’m still talking, but only as thoughts because
they take up less energy. It’s like I’m talking at a telepathic frequency that
only I can hear.
Reflecting on an
Alternate Fate of Being Unemployed
5-27-03: I had
tormented reflections that if I had learned that I lost my teaching job in
Florida due to budget cuts just a few months later than I did I would have been
too late for applying for one of those two full-time teaching positions at
CCAD. I may have been left unemployed to
this day. When I think about how I would have ended up without focus or
destination in my life, I shiver into a depression of existential aimlessness.
I need something to do with myself. I fear for my sanity if I didn’t
have a goal in life. I can forget about my love life woes and soberly remember
how fortunate I truly am. I’ve been in Ohio over a year now with this CCAD
full-time teaching job position and I’ve nearly completely forgotten how good
it’s been for me.
"To Ms.
Psychiatrist (My Journal), It's My Conservative Family…"
6-1-03: Lately every time I’m around my family, I
feel like I’m being drowned by boredom of their “exciting” lives. After the
creative company of the likes of Beck, Steven Spielberg, and John Lennon,
listening to them is near to impossible to appreciate. Lately, I’ve been
feeling so great spending time with my own
I Woke Up - I Got Out
6-1-03: What is this? I have to isolate myself in my
apartment in order from being corrupted by the sinful elements of the city? I’d
lose my way if I left a small town world where doing nothing but raising
children was how they stayed out of trouble. There was nothing there to corrupt
them with except going to church and abide by its beliefs. Living there is like
being in a state of suspended childhood. Is it really a positive thing to not
grow up and make mistakes? Is it better to sleepwalk through life by conforming
to everyone else’s lives? I woke up and people despise me for it. I woke up and
I’m expressing and releasing my emotional dreams.
I can’t hide the warts on my emotions. I am
suffering from acute loneliness. My artistic ambitions convince me to
keep working, keep reading the John Lennon biographies, keep writing my soul
out for later use.
New Day
Resolutions
6-2-03: Forget New Year’s Resolutions! I prefer to
give myself New Day Resolutions when
needed. My goal for today: decrease my weirdness. It estranges people and
myself when I should be connecting with other people.
Glory Years Are Ahead,
Not Behind
6-2-03:
It’s an odd irony that most people believe their glory days were in high school
and college. They age, go on with their lives, drink heavily, and look back
lost and confused at those youthful times as the best times of their lives. Yet
I had it quite differently. I had a miserable time in high school and somewhat
in college. I was an insecure, nervous wreck, unsure where I fit in this world.
It's only been over the past few years that I've "found" myself and
gotten comfortable in my own body, mind, emotions, and imagination. I’m still
striving for my glory days. So therefore, I'm looking forward instead of looking back. That makes me moving ahead that
the best is yet to come.
Garden Some Art
Instead
6-11-03: I've known some artist friends who spend more time
gardening rather than making art anymore. I don’t care for gardening for too
long; I’d much rather be creating art. Sure it’s nice recreation to ease or
distract your mind from a day’s stress. But where’s the creative satisfaction?
I like to garden for five minutes or half an hour, then I’d most likely be on
my way back to making art. It’s merely a side-play in between the art
festivities going on in my imagination. So I have to tell my once-artistic
friends and neighbors: “Quit pussy-footing around with those pussy-willows and
get to work on some art!” Nature is an art form, but everyone’s doing it!
Anyone can garden a garden. But not everyone can make art. Make your own plants
in your own drawings and sculptures! Garden some art instead.
The Importance of
Employment
6-11-03: Having a job is all important to me. It feeds all the
other roles below it: a personal life, entertainment, artwork, a healthy
self-esteem, a place to live, etc. That is why having work to do is something
of a must for me.
This Despairing
Loneliness Creates an Opening to Change
6-12-03: I hope that I matter……………………………… because I feel like I
don’t in this despairing loneliness. I revel in my solitude and how much work
and leisure I get done by creating art, writing, watching movies, listening to
great music, and reading. Yet the isolation element does surface and I start to
drown in the emotional blackness. I cannot go on living like this for another
night. I have to make drastic changes. So I have to ask the
question: “If you don’t like yourself anymore and don’t know who you are inside
anymore, celebrate that frailty. You
can at last choose whatever personality you wish to pursue. That vulnerability
will allow you to finally grow and change.”
I’m An Escapism
Addict
6-13-03: It’s a horrible morning of anxiousness and anxiety attack tremors. I have to change, but it’s too overcast outside to make it happen. I’m back to the local library for even more DVDs to fill my time and distract my mind. I’m an escapism addict. I want to be entertained, inspired, and fueled by great art. Friends don’t always make it happen. I get bored… I get lost. I hate myself. Should I go biking? That’ll get me out of my prison dream world. But no, it’s about to rain. I guess I’ll watch some “Tales From the Crypt” – that’ll amuse me and distract me. And maybe another anti-depressant will work for me. It’s too early to masturbate, right?
Art Is the Tool for
Divine Communication
6-13-03: If you know the personal lives of people, you tend to
feel more for them. You relate. You connect. Art is that tool for divine
communication. Show me the pain, the bliss, the heartbreaks, the victories, the
highs and the lows. It all needs to be there in order to have something behind
the superficial surface.
The Question of When
to Have Children
6-15-03: I
feel that I may just be in a state of suspended adulthood. I don’t want to grow up and have “adult
responsibilities” like children that take up all your free time to do art. I’ve
found out firsthand from friends (some even my own age of 26) how ridiculous it
is to have a family as well as a career – let alone dreams and time of
your own. They don’t look that happy. I’ve based my past eight years on
the building of dreams. It’s no wonder that I’m extra cautious about
getting into a relationship. Simply watching their lives is enough of a
sobering experience. I don’t need any more worries. I’ve already got a full
load. I may be too ambitious to have children, still. In their twenties, some
people trade in their dreams and careers for bundles of joy called children.
What it all comes down to is one simple question: was it worth it?
A Message to the
Friends I've Known
6-19-03: And
the reoccurring dilemma as a friend of many is that I can’t stretch myself out
to corresponding with dozens of old acquaintances. As one grows older, one
gathers more and more friends along the way of life. I can’t keep in touch with
all of them. It’s an overwhelming impossibility. I can’t keep living with that
type of load. I can only handle a handful of friends at a time – preferably
ones that are in close physical proximity. I can’t see and talk to them every
night, please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!
6-22-03: I had
a reversal of perception on this Sunday of our annual “Homan Reunion”. Usually,
I am not all that enthused about being around my cousins, most of which I don’t
have similar interests with beyond their good wills and small talk. Yet this
morning, I decided to have a change of mind and take one today’s experiences as
if they were the last I’d ever known (a similar existentialism I adopted during
high school so that I’d break out of my severe shyness). If I weren’t going to
see my aunts, uncles, and cousins ever again, I would be more socially open to
them instead of an "art-obsessed egotist". I also took two
anti-depressants ease off the anxiety inside me before my dad and I left for
the reunion.
This year, my family was in charge of the family
reunion at the New Knoxville shelter house and in getting everyone involved in
games and activities. Lara and Tanya/ Steve organized all of it while dad
supplied the main food items. That left me the x-factor sibling how didn’t do
much. So I volunteered to collect email addresses, played games with the kids
seven and under, and face-painted (my first time with children). One boy
exclaimed aloud around the other children and my sister Lara, “Her brother is great!”
I kept on painting spiders, colorful balloons, and American flags on
appreciative smiling faces and arms. Then I played with the kids on a jungle
guy/ maze/ castle/ fortress thing. They screamed out every time I got near them
in glee with the exclamation: “Old Guy Attack! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” All the while I was flooded with nostalgic
feelings and memories. I remembered when I could barely get a drink of water
from a water fountain….
6-22-03: During the family reunion, I came across an uplifting
epiphany. For my money, playing with a colorful parachute (like I used to in
Phy. Ed in the third grade) and blowing bubbles with a group of giggling young,
under eight years old cousins on a park’s grassy field was the best experience
on earth!! It’s simple, innocent, bliss-out fun. There’s no competition as in
most sports activity – just collective teamwork. Hanging out with the adults
can often be so boring. And to them they think I’m too distant, shy, eccentric,
or whatever. I can’t help it if they like to talk about their hairstyles and who’s
dating who. Belonging to that small talk state-of-mind is Dullsville!
It’s madness because it’s all meaningless dribble. Where is the fun then?! The
kids, from ages three to eight, really seemed to be having a great time. So I
hung out and played with them. And I found myself retuned in with their
alive jovial mindsets and free giddy spirits. They took a liking to me – the
adult who acts like a kid, as one of them. I guess I was surprised to be
accepted so quickly. I’m used to being rejected and estranged in society all
too often. But here children hadn’t learned those negative emotions yet. I
realized then that I haven’t played with children in years. And
playing was an integral part of my childhood – of anyone’s childhood. We “grew
out” of recess because there simply wasn’t anymore recess in high school and
college. Adulthood turned into other superficial pleasures like alcohol, drugs,
smoking, and sex. They distracted us from freeing our inner child – our
innocent joy and bliss of life. For me, finding a chance to play was a
cathartic, nostalgic, heavenly, and exhilarating experience. (Though I will
admit that for an older “kid” like myself, it did get exhausting after being
around a dozen hyperactive kids!) Everyone should go find some children they
know or are related to and play with them in their playgrounds just to get out
of their stoic adult shells just for one sunny afternoon. Quit being
“mature”, professional, mannered, and adulterated. We need to get real
again. Get born again through playing again. If it takes going to recess, give
yourself recess. Go for a refreshing bike ride. Swim several laps for the pure
rush of it. Use your imagination to create an adventure!! Dream. Breathe. Live.
Play… today.
Nurturing
Your Imagination
6-25-03: It’s a
sad fact that during puberty most teenagers trade in their sense of imagination
in life for girls and sex. Suddenly, they have other things in mind and in
hand. It’s often the outcasts and “losers” who don’t have girlfriends that keep
their fantasy worlds thriving. They’re the ones who haven’t “grown up” because
they’ve been rejected by the pretty girls. They still want love, excitement,
adventure, and sex – so they elsewhere. Go to a comic book store, a library, a
movie theater or a video store. And because they’re not loving a person,
they’re loving their imaginations by dreaming. They receive something special
from such sources of fantasy that women can’t offer. It’s a constant supply of
intelligence, awe, beauty, grandeur, exhilaration, excitement, adventure,
romance, suspense, danger, and, most crucially, imagination. That key element
of imagination triumphs over all other experiences. It’s what is not real. It
is experiencing and glimpsing the infinity.
My Fantasy World Is
So Strong
6-26-03:
My fantasy world is so strong that reality can barely compare or stand up to
it. I haven’t eaten in hours and my low blood sugar has loosened up my mind.
I’m at ease... the world is a dream. I’m just visiting in the reality. Why take
a normal wife when I can have my wildest erotic fantasy dream woman? I can base
her on someone I have a crush on in real life, but wouldn’t go out with me. I
can still have her in my private state of imagination! It’s like having the
ultimate love life! I’m in a dream. Reality is just for play! Hey hey!
Risking My Life for
My Artwork
6-30-03: I
can’t help but feel that I’m risking my life for creating my artwork. And why?
It’s what I do because it’s what I believe in. It’s what’s inside of me that needs
to be expressed. Making art takes everything
that's inside of me. It's a life or death situation to create personal,
self-expressive, highly emotional, deeply personal cathartic art!! Not everyone
can do it. And you've got to be a little crazy
to go that far.
A Walking
Contradiction
6-30-03: People
keep telling me what a positive-minded person I am. They don’t realize that I’m
an artist – a dreamer. They barely know the truth that I’m quite the
opposite. I let on that I’m good-natured and easy-going. Yet deep down inside,
I’m burning up with desperation, frustration, and loneliness. I'm a walking
contradiction, as the saying and the song goes.
Are There No Jobs for Creativity?
7-2-03:
One day,
I overheard some women talking about a brother of theirs who was majoring in
poetry in grad school. They prayed that he’d be able to get a teaching job or
something because “there wouldn’t be any other use for his skills in society”.
That was extremely disturbing to overhear. That clenched it: the real world has
no use for art and creativity if it doesn’t employ the making of money. And to
do so is to sell out – compromise one’s ideas and vision by “dumbing it down”.
What a horrific realization for a real artist to come to terms with. It’s like
learning that everything you feel and express so deeply inside is not just
obsolete, it’s insignificant to your human race.
(What fervor made me write these words?
They’re not even for anyone? I’m not getting paid for this time and energy of
putting down my thoughts. Am I talking to myself for self-introspection’s sake,
art’s sake, or just talking to myself because I’m alone and need some company?
Was the stress of feeling too much, and I had to let the passion out…?)
Art vs. Adulthood: A
Sobering Moment of Clarity
7-9-03: I can feel everything in existence, this
waking instant, slow down to a halt. Life as I know it isn’t moving anymore for
me. I’m stuck with myself. I don’t have any distractions. I’ve fully moved in
all of my positions into my new condo after nine hard days of moving and
working. With no more work, I’m simply here. I felt my first waves of
uncertainty and panic that I’ve moved into a new place where everything is
moved around and different. I had to readjust to my surroundings now that I’ve
been uprooted and upgraded. I should be happy as hell. Instead I felt as hallow
as heaven. All of my securities that I had living in my apartment before were
now gone or displaced. Then again, I need to get some more sleep. My entire
body is aching. While at the condo’s pool, I had to overhear the hottie mothers
chatting about places to go out to eat and looking after their kids. Is that
what becomes of people in the suburbs? Get yourself well fed at nice places to
eat, have sex, make babies, and live an uneventful life? To me, that seemed
like torture. I suddenly feared about dating the wrong women and finding myself
in a similar predicament. Life would be no fun anymore. Even if it does leave
one wanting and lonely, art is everything.
Fear of Being “Domesticated”
7-9-03:
A terrifying thought realization entered
my mind: what if I got so busy with a marriage and family in the suburbs that I
simply lost contact with my creativity since I didn’t have any time anymore to
keep exploring its reaches? I’d be just like everyone else, yet infinitely unhappy that I could have
been a visionary when I ended up as a normal in the end. I believe having my
dad “furnish” my condo with garage sale items has made my place into his
home. What started as immense gratitude for his immeasurable contributions has
evolved into a masquerade to make me look “domesticated”. I’ve got to retain my
individuality at all costs. I need to get my creative mojo back!
The
Oddities of Existence on Our Planet Channeled Through My Artwork
7-11-03: I swell into the oddities of
existence on our planet by channeling them through my artwork. For example, one
day the VRC remote control simply stopped working even with new batteries in
it. I played with the remote for hours and nothing worked with it. The next day
when I tried them again, I was astonished to discover that the remote now
worked perfectly well as if nothing faulty had ever happened. Normally, we put
these weirdnesses out of our minds once they’re over. But they still happened.
As an artist, I believe in exploring the existence of subtle confusions and
underlying perplexities. They are a relevant mystery within all our lives that
offer no or little logical explanation. That reason is also what motivates me
to be curious and explore them through art.
The
Danger of Living Too Deeply in One’s Imagination
7-12-03: There’s
a distinct danger in living too deeply in one’s imagination. When you finally
decide to leave your fantasy worlds, reality isn’t exactly pleasurable. And
there lies the trappings of a subtly emerging and building panic attack. I left
my home at 4 p.m. into a gorgeous 77-degree July Saturday. What I found was an
overly populated, noisy, busy, annoying, confusing mess of a consumer culture
that made me sick and increasingly depressed. I could feel myself aching to
withdrawn into some source of escapism. I listened to the songs on the radio a
bit too intensely. I found myself shopping for a myriad number of things for
the condo and accidentally locked my keys in my car. (Thankfully, I had a spare
key hidden outside the car to get me back in.) I was just out of it. I
have too much on my mind. I've got too many responsibilities that I couldn’t
enjoy being. It was a labor. I
didn’t want part of the weekend family outing to Wal-Mart Hades. And I sure
don't like being around people talking to themselves in public. There is no
peace – just noise and a building insanity in the pursuit of fun. I didn’t want
the employees of Best Buy to ask me every thirty seconds if I needed any help.
I just wanted to be left alone and in peace! I forgot the measurements for the
window shades and Wal-Mart had an overwhelming selection of choices that
confused me all the more. I was simply getting wildly overwhelmed. My brain was
filling up, overflowing with too much information and emotion. Then I noticed
that the teenager girls around in the store looked like plastic tanned clones
of what they see on TV. My hormones told me that I want to fuck them, but my
mind knew they’re just hollow inside. When I got home, I glanced over to see
that my single female neighbors all had boyfriends and I’m left by myself as
the solitary dreamer. I was alone having to deal with everything. My mailbox
had a bundle of bills to pay in it. Telemarketers were coming to my home earlier
today trying to persuade me to steal my money by selling paranoia about the
Columbus water and offering me a test of the types of filth in the tap
water. I was being assaulted on all fronts ever so subtly. Yet ever so slowly,
my defenses were eaten away and beaten down. It was too much. I’m overwhelmed.
I can’t relate to every woman out there. I hate being single, but getting into
a relationship with the wrong woman is just as worse. I listened to the sadly
unimpressive "popular music" on the radio and wondered if there is a
place for someone as innovative and unique as me in this bland world that
celebrates superficial beauty and cheap thrills. My artwork isn’t acceptable
because it isn’t “sexy” enough for society’s mass consumption. So I retreated
to where my Imagination offers comfort and climax, through an outlet of making
art. God give me dreams.
And so, I went to bed before 6
p.m. I will need rest to make dreams for another day.
Will Getting Married
Replace My Dreams?
7-13-03:
And so I’ve reached quite an adult milestone for my life now that
I’ve gotten a condo of my own. Imagine: I’ve found a place of peace and quiet
that I own. It’s an exciting
realization and forecasts future possibilities for me. I’m all set up for that
next step in adulthood now: …marriage.
And for the past three years, I’ve been ever so cautious about getting back
into a relationship. As lonely as I’ve been and continue to be, I’m even more
fearful of losing my sense of freedom. I look at most couples and families and
see all the responsibilities that end up replacing their dreams. They got real
and got bland. That truly scares me witless.
When Depression and
Despair Gets a Hold of Me…
7-13-03: I'd definitely like to go to places to meet or hang
out with interesting, "unconventional", and intelligent
women without plastic-tanned skin jobs. So far the Upper Arlington
Library, Half-Price Books, and used CD stores haven't quite cut it. And those
are the places I go to most. It’s not an easy thing for me to admit that I’m a
loser and a coward when it comes to seeking out a lover. It pains me that I’ve
always been insecure about going out to meet women. It just seems a bit
“forced” to me. I suppose the only way to escape my despair is to look at life
objectively instead of subjectively. If I see things instead of feel
things, it’s like watching a documentary instead of living one. It’s like
staring into a mirror and seeing someone else but not you. It’s like jumping
ship on one’s own life. When the emotions get to be too much, withdraw.
It’s impossible to live anymore. I admit fully that I haven’t lived according
to the “rules” of our society. I am a professional outcast… anyone can see. You
can grade my self-esteem and my under-appreciated artwork. I might as well not
exist. (Do I write great "suicide notes", or what?) “I hate
myself and I want to die.” There. I got the cliché out of me. I distract and
drown myself in movies, music, and artwork. I need so much of it that I have to
create my own just to keep myself interested in being. What is this depression
that I consider a close enemy friend of mine? Today has been the 9,832 repeat
rerun day. Life just keeps going on and on without originality. Maybe death is
the greatest aspect to look forward to, with dreaming a close second. I need a
new change. Fuck: even profanity doesn’t express enough anymore.
Art Is
An Answer
7-14-03:
In the wake of descending into last night’s abyss, I had to wake up from sleep
this morning and live yet another day, another “rerun”. I had to find an
answer. If I didn’t have a girlfriend, I could always love my artwork. What I
neglected to see was that art is an
answer.
Is It Better To Be
“Lonely”?
7-14-03: Then it hit me: is it better to be “lonely”
and solitary with my movies, music, books, and artwork than it is to be
married, buried, and compromised? So in relative terms to what I could be, I am
happy. There. I said it. I suppose my
life is just one of the dualities of life by wanting two opposite things at
once, but can only achieve one. Maybe I don’t mind the pain of singlehood as
much as I made myself feel. The gift of creativity and of dreams isn’t all that
bad after all. My life really is good.
How about that? Now as long as no one hijacks my emotions and unintentionally
forces me to feel jealous that they’re in love….
"I Can’t Lose My
Freedom"
7-14-03: And another thing that drives me nuts about
certain constricting marriages is if I call up a friend and ask if he wants to
come over to watch a good movie with me, he has to ask his frowning wife if
it’s “all right”. In most cases, he “can’t” because he hasn’t spent enough time
with her. This is madness. As a creative and working artist, I can’t lose my
freedom!! At least not at this stage of my life. That is why I’m attracted to
artistic women who know of this necessity to hang onto one’s soul, one's creativity,
one's purpose in life, one's sense of being, one's beliefs, one's very essence
of self-expression to help others know how to dream. I'm an idealistic dreamer
in a world of creativity non-believers. And I've got to carry on the fight!
It's Time to Choose
Between the “Love/ Art Blues”
I am trying so hard to be different, original, and
independent. At the same time, I’m trying to be like everyone else with having
a social life, a girlfriend, and a family. Indeed, it’s the “love/ art blues”.
I believe it’s almost time to choose. Let’s see if my life is win or lose….
A Friendless Daze of
Days
7-16-03: It’s been a beautiful blue sky Wednesday off from work for me… with no one to spend it with but movies indoors.
This sad and lonely scenario has been a distressful aspect of my life that has
occurred to me constantly through high school to my CCAD student days at
Grant-Oak apartments. It even followed me down to Florida for four years where
I simply escaped into a fantasy world of art. If no one noticed me, I’d simply
be free to feel and think any way I wished. I could deny to myself that I was
lonely. I could be alone and be completely at bliss within that imagination.
Yet the blue sky and lovely weather teases me and tempts me with those feelings
of desperate grief over my bachelorhood. It simply forces me to seek out and
find better movies and greater music to keep me satisfied. It turns into a drug
habit where I need a better fix to keep the demons away. I grieve that I can’t
keep running any more.
7-19-03:
My skill and forte in my life is to be a
creative, innovative thinker. Yet I am considered just another human being used
for mechanical and technical purposes around the house and society. My special
artistic gifts are forsaken and laid to waste. I am used for physical or
technical labor, nothing more. What a waste of the use of the human
brain. And I’m not alone for millions of great artists from around the world
are forced to give up on their artistic talents because they don’t provide
enough money for them. They’re offered no opportunities to expand their great
creative powers. It’s a disturbing routine of self-expression being laid to
ruin and left premature. The world wants us artists to be normal so we can fit
in. If we can’t, they medicate us with anti-depressants and bad television to
numb our minds. We have to rebel. We have to escape from becoming obsolete
artists with ordinary dreams.
Accidentally Losing
Artwork
7-21-03: This
morning, I was downloading some photos off my camera and accidentally deleted
them instead of copying them over to the internal hard drive. I lost some 60
photos (though I would have probably deleted 25 of them). There was nothing I
could do once it was gone – just like that. It was horrific how easy it was. It
made me lose more faith in doing computer art when I spend so much of my time
doing it that it takes up most of my social life. I hate it. It makes me feel
like another part of me has died. Hours had to pass until I felt better about
art and life. The frustration kills me the most.
The Artist Becomes
The Homemaker
7-22-03: Ever since I moved in to my condo, I’ve felt
down. I haven’t been able to adjust as well as I wish I could to the sudden change
of having to split my time from creative endeavors to “maintaining” everything
within my new condo. I’m an artist now living as a homemaker. My new
responsibilities have halted my creative growth. I’m too disconnected from my
previous life. But I know what I’ve got now and that my problems are only
temporary.
The
Anti-Depressant Society
7-24-03:
I’ve Got The
Infinite!
7-26-03: You
think you’re so lucky and I’m below you. I don’t have a date, but I’ve got my
art and imagination! I’ve got the infinite!
We All Need Our Depression
7-26-03: Suffer
from depression? We all need our
depression to keep ourselves challenged with creative, nervous tensions. How
else would people keep making art?
I'd Rather Be Making
Art Rather Than Be Making Small Talk
7-26-03: Creatively speaking, I am better than 99% of the
human beings on this planet. Yet the majority of the world is definitely better
than I when it comes to being social. Most occasions, I don’t see much to talk
about. They just have nothing to talk about more than me. I'd rather be making
art rather than be making small talk.
I Want To Use My Creative/ Artistic/ Acting/
Writing Abilities in Something
7-27-03: Being
in
Feeling the Urgency
of Discovery
7-31-03: When
you’re someplace different with a significant change in weather and location,
the body and mind reawaken. There’s this rich sensation of feeling the urgency
of discovery. It’s like being in the realm of the new! That’s what I feel here
in San Diego for the SIGGRAPH '03 Computer Graphics Conference, along with the
weight of a vacation’s responsibilities and travel exhaustion.
8-6-03: I have found
that as lonely as I am at times and as humiliating as it is to be single at
social events, I still prefer my solitude and bachelorhood. I don’t care for
the increased emotional and physical mess. I’ve witnessed how married life with
children can be. I adore children – yet in the field of my creative interests
in my life I believe children have no lasting part. I wouldn’t be able to commit
to the responsibility of taking care of babies, children, and worse, teenagers. Ultimately, I’d make a better
uncle than a father. I am an artist and a teacher. My art and my students are
my children. They’re already an overwhelming load. My dedication to my artwork
and self-expression has indeed taken over my life in such wonderful and
devastating ways. I need solitude to work. I can’t have screaming babies or a
nagging wife telling me what to do. I’ve grown too independent, I’m afraid.
It’s no wonder I’ve remained single for so long – I value my freedom too
highly. I do, I do, I do. I’ve learned to have friends to offer me human
company. Yet I’m still hesitant about the heavy commitment a relationship has
upon one’s self. I’m already giving everything I’ve got to creative pursuits
(for no one, so far, but me). I can’t have the family load breaking down what
I’ve spent so long building up – and
that’s my entire creative being. It’d be too much of a waste now to give
up. I’m past the point of no return. As Neil Young put it so eloquently, I’m
“too far gone”, mentally and emotionally.
Family… or Dreams?
8-6-03:
I’ve watched great artists wither away once they’ve given up on art by getting
married and/or having children. Suddenly, their focus readjusts to pleasing
them instead of contributing anything to the art world. I see some of them as
taking the easy way out. They’ve stopped living once they’ve turned off the
creativity. Originality is what gives us life. I fear that once they
forget how it feels to create something new they lose hope in life and
eventually go into emotional autopilot. They’re no longer human. They’re
robots: going to work, making love to the wife, raising the babies. Yes, there
are joys that go along with that sort of safe life. But… they’re nothing truly
special. Is that all life has to offer – a basic rerun of your father’s
life? I’ve worked too hard and felt too much to give up now. That’s why I’m
still looking for a lover that I can live with, and someone who can live with
my life. It brings up a great question: what is greater in life? Family… or
Dreams? Is it worth losing the awe and wonderment for screaming babies?! If
you’ve got the creativity, original thought processes, and ambition, why would
you give it all up? You can’t give up! You’ve got to find your role models and
stay the course. Find people who have gone through the same struggles and
yourself and keep going on even if no one believes deeply in you! Don’t let the
dream fade away! Stay! Stay! Stay! Stay!!
A Chemistry Set of Creativity
8-12-03: Being an artist is like having a chemistry set of
creativity and making experiments called art. You mix the colors and ideas
together and try to make some degree of sense out of them on a canvas or a
computer or an animation or a sculpture or however you choose to express
yourself. You make your own chemistry set and explore from there.
Dealing
with Lost Dreams and Sacred Art Emotions
8-14-03:
I went in to CCAD to
get some software installed on the school department’s laptop, which ended up
not working on the laptop because it can only run on G4s. When I got home, I
found out that the computer was reformatted and I lost a day and a half worth of
journal notes and dreams. Poof! Despair can hit that fast. All those
great ideas and sacred art emotions gone as if they were nothing at all but
expendable data.
That’s What Dreams Do
8-16-03: I woke
up feeling a sense of renewal. I wasn’t feeling clobbered anymore by last
night’s urgently lonely feelings and shattered nerves. I was without the
deafening-defeatist enemy emotions that go along with being an adult. I felt
like I was in a dream floating and hypnotized by the fantastic journey. I was
feeling everything new, as it would feel to have one’s emotions muted, like a
child’s who hasn’t learned the depth of pain yet. I didn’t care so damn much
about what everyone thinks of me. I was
free of myself - my adult self. That’s what dreams do. So… do I stay in
bed, or go outside and have my dream be ruined by the world? Then again, you
can’t stay in bed and dream forever.
8-19-03: I’ve
got the feeling that several of the “artists” I’ve met have given up on their
dreams by now. Here are my fucking artist peers and all they do is talk about
what great sex they’re having or how wonderful their relationships are. Yes, I
yearn for some of that, too, but isn’t there something more they want?
Is lust and love what brings ultimate contentment? Am I the only one screaming
out from the darkness believing that having dreams are what’s more?!?
It’s seems to be in vogue for adults to give up on their dreams for something
more concrete like making money, babies, and orgasms. People try so hard to be
like each other in order to be liked. I hate that. It’s kills all originality
and good art that could have come from such great artists. Witnessing this is
the saddest thing in the world. Some call it maturity, which I agree it is. But
I also call it casual, cool insanity. They just conforming to the easiest route
that everyone else has taken in order to have a happy, comfortable life. In
other words, having a pointless existence in a pointless world, and it doesn’t
bother them a bit. Perhaps, I do want my life to mean something. And why
would I even consider going on with an active creative mind when 99.9% of the
earth’s population has quit on their dreams? Call in a deeply rooted
subconscious eccentricity that demands that I be different from the rest in
order to make my place in the universe.
That is why I continue to hang onto my ego, my dreams, and my art.
I don’t want to lose them that easily. That is why I spent so much time looking
for the right mate. The wrong choice would have meant doom for all the
creativity that could have followed. That would have been tragic, futile.
And not giving up on your dreams is a “crisis”
decision. It means not conforming to what other people want you to be. It’s a
daily desperate, yet valiant struggle to keep going on. It takes great courage
and defiance to make it. Yet in the end, it makes one a stronger person.
Meanwhile, the rest of society won’t “wake up” for years later during their
midlife crises that they didn’t do anything with their life. As an artist, we’ve
dealt with our crises on a regular basis to the degree that we know what we’re
doing. We’re that in tune with ourselves.
My Alter Ego “Rico
Suave”
8-20-03: I’ve
been acting and feeling frisky all day. Today was the CCAD all faculty meeting
that lasted from 8:30 a.m. to 2 p.m. With the added stress of making sure I was
kept up a conversational appearance, I went through the day as if all of this
existence (even these very words) were the elements of dreams. With this
fantastical philosophy, I had no fear of talking with girls or colleagues. It
was like my alter ego “Rico Suave” came back to take control of my personality.
Yet once I got home, I awoke from my dream. I
regressed into becoming an introvert and I withdrew from the world. It was like
old times again and I wondered if I’d ever be able to successfully fulfill that
dream persona through maturation.
Oddly enough, my energy returned if I know I’m only
dreaming. Everything is possible and without need to worry about the pressures
of living. I know that I’ll wake up soon enough in death. Only then the dream ends.
I Am An Undercover
Artistic Genius
8-21-03: I know
that I am a genius. I confirm it now. I’ve just lead an ordinary life to cover
up my true super hero artistic genius identity. (Oh, so that's it! Now it all makes so much more sense!)
8-22-03:
A Fearful Fantasy of Mine: Suddenly, a priest
appeared in my house with my family members standing behind him. It was an
“intervention” to make me “normal” again. It seemed to absurd to be true, and I
thought it was comedy at first. It eased into a nightmare within three seconds.
They were serious. Free-thinking dreamers like me are outlawed and
censored in this sad, sad society. What they don’t know is that I’m happier
without their lifestyle and beliefs. I am my own self. Not one of them. I’m
different. They actually got together to make me “change”. That’s insanity!
8-23-03: Why
did the spark go in people once they’re reached “maturity”? Some days I look
around at the world and see adults act like they’re on cruise-control. Most of
them have lost any sense of true imagination to their lives. In replacement,
they’ve gotten kids, vacations, and sexual intercourse – yet no dreams. I see
more life and wonderment in children around the ages of 3 through 8. Oddly,
around the time kids become teenagers, their fantasies drift off into thinking
about making money, having sex, and getting a job – three things that tend to
kill off one’s imagination. Has life’s many responsibilities gotten adults down
from dreaming high? Most adults live on auto-pilot with the compliments of
beer, TV, and sports. It’s all too much of a waste of life for me. I’m not
taking that route. What’s the point to living without a sense of awe,
adventure, and imagination? Some people think artificial stimulations like drugs,
one-night stands, and video games are life’s highs. It looks like supporting
one’s own artistic habits is more important than one would have thought. Some
accuse dreams for not “paying the bills”. That’s sometimes true, but it does
heal the soul. And yes, both of them need tending to.
Suicide Me/ Erase Me
8-25-03: I am
overcome with a sudden realization that to become reborn I must get rid of
everything about me. My possessions are a trap. I cower in my escapist
security. They hold me inside and counter my very day. What if I lost
everything in my home: my artwork, my CDs, my movies, my computers? I’d be left
with nothing – except a new identity with a clean slate. It would truly be an
eraser moment of self. I’d be free again. Then again, the safer, saner route
would simply be a new state of mind.
Amnesia would be another way of solving the question of becoming new again.
Just erase my memories and the emotions that burdened down on that personality.
It was going to be suicide or erasing my personality
in order for me to survive as part of humanity. I couldn’t take the loneliness
being me was doing to me. I was that desperate. I wanted to be erased, which, I
suppose, is another way of saying I needed to change.
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a
dream.” –Edgar Allen Poe.
8-25-03:
Artists have always danced on the border of
madness. We’re in that gray area taunting, scratching, playing, and fooling
around with our emotions to bring out the brilliance of our creativity. It’s a
dangerous recess. One fall can lead us into the abyss. I’ve been there and I’m
been humbled by how vulnerable we are. It’s like we’re as fragile as a twig
about to be stepped on at any moment. Only we’re too naïve to know when or
where that’s going to happen. So we live cautiously. We’re wearing our armor on
our sleeve. We’re in danger of becoming a sensitive species of the endangered.
We’re too sensitive to exist naturally.
The Artist From the
Small Town Known for Sports
8-27-03: One
day a great visionary artist will emerge from a small
Breaking Down My
Method of Teaching
8-27-03: When
teaching a class, the main state of mind to have is to emit complete control
and confidence in front of those impressionable or/ and pessimistic pupils. I
am the leader for which they follow and listen to. This means power, charisma,
charm, humor, and, most of all, intellect
to woo/ wow them over. Or most of all, to gain their respect and trust. To keep
from worrying or getting too nervous to speak clearly, just remember that
"it’s no big deal". Don't over-worry yourself. Break it down in
simple terms: it’s just a job. It’s
only communicating with words to Homo sapiens.
Teaching at an Art
8-28-03: The odd thing
about being a teacher is that I have to take on a different persona. I can't be
the introspective Eric Homan that I normally play in my life. I have to be
extremely talkative, engaging, informative, warm, strict, friendly,
educational, entertaining, and so much more. Today was my first day of teaching
this Fall 2003 semester. I've been teaching here for a full year now. I had
minimal nervousness this morning since I knew it was the same old song and
dance. I knew what to say, what not to say, how many jokes to pull off, and how
much information to give. I spoke for probably for a combined total of four
straight hours. (I normally talk for an average a half hour each day.) I get
weird sometimes, but at least I know when I am and to stop myself from going too far. At least I have that freedom
teaching here at an art school.
From the very first day of class, I can tell what
final grades each student will get. I could make out the grades that day in
class, compare them with their grades on the last day of class, and I bet
they’ll be remarkably close. Their personalities, postures, voices, and
especially their eyes reveal what type of work they’ll produce. You’ve got the
eager ones, the tardy ones, and those in between.
I Am Constantly Moving Forward With Making New Art
8-29-03:
I’m a real artist. That’s what separates me from
the rest of society. I’m not a guy with an interest in art – I’m a practicing
artist. I make art. And perhaps most importantly, I finish making my art pieces. And then I start the process all over
again and keep producing new work. I never stop. I keep going. I don't look
behind. I move forward in the present tense. And unlike other artists, I don't
have openings for my work. I just keep producing. I don't stop to social and have
a big event to distract me from my momentum. To paraphrase General Patton in Patton, I am constantly moving forward.
I’m Committing
Suicide by Creating Art
8-29-03: "Suicidally" tired tonight… give me
instead to dreams. It was another reoccurring empty Friday night for me. And
once again, it's wiped me out emotionally. I hate this lonely world. I only
have my imagination to save me. I can either withdraw into my subconscious, or go
out into the world and act real – and
the world interprets this action as “weird”. So I mostly stay indoors and keep
to myself until I can’t take it anymore. And tonight I’ve once again hit the
bottom - hit my limit. I don’t want to live anymore tonight. Give me instead to
dreams. I suppose that means I’m committing suicide by creating art. He
wants to die for his depression.
I've Rebelled From
Having an Average Life
8-31-03: In a simple synopsis, being a real artist is
what makes me different. I’ve got a creative life that the rest of the world doesn’t
have or nurture. That’s why I’m afraid of getting lost in the "wife/
house/ kids/ die" life formula. For most of my life, I’ve rebelled from
having an average life. I want the dream.
I want the extraordinary life. My
dreams mean as much as love does to me. If that means being a loner or alone,
then I’ll wait and be patient. (But even I have my limits.)
One Day I Will Have
Children
9-1-03: I know
now that I will one day I will marry and have children. It is inevitable.
I suppose it goes along with the suburb environment I live in and the teaching
job I have. It's only a matter of time. So it's no wonder I'm working so hard
on my art now when I still have a chance to get some real creative work done
without distractions.
9-4-03: Early this morning, I thought of doing
something interesting with my depression: I’d use it instead of it using me. I’d take my jealousies and problems and
despairs and take them into my artwork and writing. Some people think that
depression is a bad thing. I’m manipulating it for my own means now. I’m taking
control. If I’m stuck with depression and I can’t get rid of it after years of
struggling with it, I’ll make it my ally and friend. I’ll let it burn within me
to motivate me to work for me by fueling my internal emotional fires.
Today Is the Best Day of
Your Life
9-5-03:
My friend: “Never say that those college party years of yours were your best
years of your life!! That’s utterly ridiculous!! Today is the best day of your life - and you
can’t even recognize it!! Live it! Feel it! Use it!”
9-9-03: While laying in bed drifting off into dream,
I did ponder about if I’m happier now that I was when I was seventeen. In most
ways, I definitely am. I’m more confident about myself. I’ve got self-esteem
that I never had back then. I’ve got my life under control in aspects I only
dreamed of having. Yet in ultimate retrospect, aren’t those “horrible” feelings
of being nervous and depressed a direct result of not knowing what was
coming next? I still do have depression at 27. It doesn’t completely go
away no matter how many things are going right. One issue is how repetitious
the days are after a while. The thrill of living is diminished once you settle
into suburbia with a home, a job, and a family. At least when I was young and
didn’t know what was going to happen with my life and future, I felt an
emotional charge. Now I’ve got a life routine. Take me back when I was feeling
things for the first time. When you’re young, you don’t know what’s going to
happen next. That is something I miss. Being older, I’m used to the
defeats. I’ve grown accustomed to it. Love isn’t as magical as it used to seem.
No matter how special they are, women are interchangeable in the end. To feel
lost and depressed means you’re at least feeling something! And that’s
not all that bad. I’d take desperation over numbness any day now. I want to
excitement back of extreme anxiety! I want the power of being bothered! I live
for the feeling of feeling. I want to be young and naïve. I want to be
anguished again. I was happier when I was sad. I was gladder when I was mad. I
was, I was, I was… real.
The Dreamer’s War
9-11-03: It will be imagination, not weapons of mass destruction, which will
fight, decide, and win the future wars in our reality. The dreamers will take
control. Their dreams will make them the kings, conquerors, and warriors. The
fantasies made real in our world will take over the world as undefeatable
creations of the mind. Their imaginations, complicated by their extreme
emotions brought out from witnessing the horrific events of war, will have
become so outraged, engaged, and powerful that they will have gained the
ability to, literally, make their dreams come true. They will be able to
protect innocent lives and defeat enemy forces with their lives being lost.
Their dream creations are like unbeatable superheroes. Giant humanoid aliens,
twice the size as the
Poisonous Jealousy
9-12-03: I feel like I’m tiring
out from burning on jealousy in order to fuel my inspiration for making “great
art”. I just can’t remain staying single in order to keep myself motivated to
provoke something brilliant out of my soul. It’s draining to the point of
madness… especially without recognition. It makes me doubt myself and my
artwork all the more.
Art Should Be Made
for Oneself
9-12-03: I was watching an MTV2
program about “Credible One-Hit Wonders” and many of these bands (that where
great bands) broke up once they weren’t able to achieve the same kind of
success their one hit had brought them. This disturbed me since they weren’t
making art anymore due to lack of commerciality.
Art should be made for oneself. Once you start making it for an audience, it
becomes diminished, impersonal, neutered, for the expectations of too many
different personalities and target marketing groups. You can’t please everyone.
Try starting with yourself as your main audience. Then see if your art touches
other people as well.
Making Art and Using
One's Imagination Is Better Than Sex
9-12-03: What it comes down to is,
from my own personal life experiences and feelings, being in love and making
love isn’t enough. It’s not good enough to satisfy my soul. I want more. That
is where art and the pursuit of grand imagination come in. Lovers keep me down.
I need release beyond the mental and the emotional. I’ve still got the creative
charge! I’m not a burnout who is looking for “peace” in marriage and family.
The Pain Will End/
The Joy Will Begin
9-13-03: I better change. I gotta
take that depression and nuke it in the microwave. I’ve got to survive with a
motivated push. My personality has got to be energized with furious need to
make it out. Knock out the pain that fuels you/ fools
you down! Loosen up… have fun… don’t worry…. You’re going to die. Relax a
little. The pain will end. The joy will begin. You’re struggling to focus when
you need to defocus on your life. Wait a minute!? Isn’t that embracing
insanity? Lose yourself!
We Keep Hitting Those
Highest Highs
9-14-03: We
keep hitting those highest highs… only to eventually also hit those lowest
lows. The seasons keep changing and forcing my moods into summersault limbos. I
don’t know how to deal with the dizziness of layered depressions. So I'm about
to pass out in public with a migraine and a desperation beyond even van Gogh’s
“The Crows” painting. I can see a light in my artwork. I'm swimming toward it. My God, it's full of stars.
The Creative Thought Process
9-14-03: Allow
me to explain where creative thought processes come from. You simply take your
own memory experiences, apply them to inspiring media that you intake (movies,
comic books, music), and out comes a hybrid “original” thought – something that
was never thought of before. One image + second image = new image. The
results are often quite surreal and dreamlike. “Mermaids giving head to male
college vacationers under the waves off
Computer Art as a
Last Ditch Emotional Rescue Device
9-15-03: Later
during the day, I realized clearly that a girl I was interested in wasn’t
into me. She would have thought I was being funny if I asked her out. I can’t
help but act like a comedian because I don’t know how else to get these girls’
attention. I didn’t grow up completely – I became an artist instead. God help
me. The world around me isn’t offering the possibilities that I yearn for
inside. That’s why I turn to my computer artwork. It’s the fastest medium I
have to release myself before I explode.
Existential Self-Deprecating Artist Loathing
9-15-03:
I’m a useless artist.
I’m only here for a second or two. My art is so personal. People can’t stand
it. They don’t want to feel it like I can feel it. It’s no wonder that it’s a
hit in heaven. I’m the weird and the wonderful, and they don’t care. My art
isn't for them. It's for me and the higher spirits.
Enjoy
Yourself, Young Man
9-16-03: Looking
back as my older self on the me of 20 years of age, I realized I still needed
to harden my emotions. Don’t drown so
much from love and loss. Enjoy yourself,
young man. From moving outside my body and observing myself in my now
existence, I saw my life sharply, maturely, emotionally professional. I saw and thought my feelings instead of feeling
them. I saw my body from the viewpoint of a sixty-year-old man looking back at
what he’s lost from not “having as much fun as he wished he had” (to paraphrase
what Einstein reflected on his own life). I was the watcher of my own life.
Gaining Some Self-Assertion
9-17-03:
I realized it was better that I change as the assertive personality
rather than being the old passive, shy Eric Homan. What was happening was that
I had my opinions back in high gear. I wasn’t ashamed of myself and felt
confident that I had something interesting to say. So I did. What an
exciting personality enhancement! I’m not interested anymore of being in the
background and sheepishly hanging out with them as my friends. I’m not afraid
of expressing my thoughts no matter if someone doesn’t like it. I’m not going
to neuter myself anymore for their sake. I’ll be happier if someone else has to
adjust to me instead of me having to adjust to their personality quirks. I
didn’t get so sensitive to the point where I couldn’t function on a sane basis.
I had to stop caring what other people would think if I said so and so. This is
me. If you’re going to get upset with the tiniest things I say or mention, I’ll
leave. I’ve got other things going for me other than you.
Winners and/ or
Losers
9-18-03: The important thing to
remember about life is that we’re all the winners, and we’re all the losers. It
just depends on your point of view of which you are the most.
Contemplating God and The Imagination
9-20-03: Thinking
about the near and non-existence of God and the limits of the universe
nearly overloaded my brain with too many possibilities. I dreamed too far to
the point of nearly freaking myself out before I was ten years old. Asking the
highest questions was something I sometimes tried as a kid growing up in a
small town with manic depression, an overactive imagination, and severe
boredom. Sometimes, I’d start formulating answers that would fry my brain that
I’d have to quickly forget what I’d been thinking in order to regain my sanity.
As curious human beings, we all have this ability to ponder such thoughts. It’s
just that we come to a point where we get afraid of finding the answers. We
forget we always have the bravery and the imagination to dare out and beyond
the impossible. We all have the answers; it’s just a matter of being able to
accept and understand them.
The Time to Express
Creative Ideas
9-22-03: My
mind is exploding with creative ideas. I do my best to catch them by
immediately writing them down. The problem is how to express them in actual
artwork pieces. I keep writing down idea after idea after idea. Yet when and
where will I find the time to fully express them?
A Dangerously
Dreamer Extraordinaire
9-26-03: I am often
depressed when I live in the real world. I am only the most ALIVE when I am living in my own fantasy
world of exulted emotions and alternate personas. I don’t want to be “me”. It
limits what I can achieve. I want more than what I’m able to get. I suppose
that’s what qualifies me as a dangerously dreamer extraordinaire. I can’t fall in love or find myself in a
relationship when I’m being me. So I’m changing.
I’ve got to become someone else instead. I become the living dream. It is a
subtle change, but a crucial one going from one lackluster persona to an
exciting one.
But what happens when the dream fails? You are left alone inside a
hollow fantasy that only you can feel. You don’t have a connection or charisma
to let others appreciate it as much as you do. So do you start all over again?
I Need Dreams for Fuel
9-26-03: As I drove home from a bad
date, I heard The Smashing Pumpkins’ cover of the Depeche Mode song “Never Let
Me Down” and found myself adoring it. Such a deep connection to it revealed to
me how much deeper of an emotional connection I have to music, movies, and art
than I do with 99% of the people I personally know. That’s the ultimate
devastation of my life. Movies, music, and art are my closest, most
personal family and my friends. I can’t escape who I am in this life that I’ve
led. I’ve tapped into something more potent and powerful in my imagination that
the majority of society can’t dare muster. I can dream mightier than other
"mortals" by allowing my focus to be on my life’s subconscious consciousness into artistic
creations. Practically everyone else’s lives feature dormant, under-used,
under-developed, weakling, and pathetic
imaginations. Yet they don’t care
because they don’t need it. They’ve got beer, sex, drugs, and line dancing. I
need more than that. I need dreams for fuel, for oxygen, for love, and for
meaning to this universe and existence. I can’t just switch off my artistic
being to being superficial and drunken. No wonder it's so hard for me to have a
good time around ordinary, average people. I can only turn off my mind for a
few hours until I get restless again. And then the boredom overwhelms
me. I need to dream again. I need the potency of great dreams and powerful
emotions. I want to be moved.
The Most Creative
(and Anguished) Period in My Life
9-27-03: For
being single for the past few years, I must admit that I’ve been going through
the most creative (and anguished) period in my life. Ideas outpour from me as
freely as breathing. But what a sacrifice I've had to offer myself up as. I
really don't know if it's been worth it. This much emotional pain isn't a fun
way to live.
9-28-03: I’ve
been beaten down by my emotions for the majority of my entire life. I’ve
learned to let go of the pain, the insecurities, the jealousies, the
loneliness, and all the rest of the negative excesses. All they end up doing in
the end is waste my time and ruin my joy. I’m letting it all go. I felt too
deeply and I nearly paid the highest price with my sanity. Still, I held onto
my soul and got through. What seems like a big deal at the time means nothing
in the end. So why trouble one’s mind? Free yourself with that simple
realization. We act like we don’t have super-powers like superheroes do, but we
do have control of ourselves through self-determination. All we have to do it
realize it. And it’s not a self-delusion – it’s real. We have the power to save
ourselves. There is a normal sadness to the state of living. So don’t
worry about it. It’s not yours.
Art Finds the Meaning in Existence
9-30-03: We make up meaning in our lives out of nothingness.
Our relationships end without true consequence. We live haplessly and without
certainty. We might as well be floating in black space. It's no wonder the
world we live in need artists to make
some degree of sense and meaning to our existence.
Fear of Losing My
Artistic Goals
10-4-03: So now
I’m home alone again typing on my Dell computer, passionately listening “David
Bowie: The Man Who Sold the World”, and feeling introspective from my
surrounding solitude. Meanwhile, 90% of
This "Artistic
Freedom"
10-6-03: Kon
and Ryan made comments about how “lucky” I am for being free and having no
family commitments. I don’t have the problems and schedules and the extra
mouths to feed and the family members that have to be paid attention to instead
of to their art lives. I can watch a movie whenever I like. I can go out and do
anything any time. I can focus completely on my artwork and writings. Yet for
how long will I have this "artistic freedom" to do as I please
whenever I like? And more interestingly, how long will I want to have this artistic freedom? Because along with the freedom
comes ruthless amounts of loneliness and solitude. It is the ultimate
double-edged sword. I both love and loathe my so-called "freedom".
I Am an Artistic Vessel of Creative Confusion
10-7-03: I just write down what I notice, misunderstand, and
(mis)interpret. In the end, it ends up as “art”. This surrealistic world is
what I use for inspiration. Depression is what motivates me to capture it and
share it. I hold up a mirror to the world of mirrors. I do misunderstand the
world that I live in because I don't fully fit into it. I have a learning
disability. I find the world quite strange and overwhelming. I take my lack of
understanding of our existence and try to make sense of it through my art. If I
hear "Lite Armageddon" in “The Negotiation Limerick File” by The
Beastie Boys, I write it down. What a bizarre concept?!! They're singing
something else, but I heard "Lite Armageddon". I don't know why I
can't hear things right. It's just the way I'm wired. I can't hear all
frequencies. So sometimes I can't hear quite right. I am an artistic vessel of
creative confusion.
Kicking My Shyness
10-12-03: I’ve
suffered from extreme shyness throughout most of my life. Now at age 27, I’ve
decided I’m through with holding myself back from experiencing more out of life
before I end up in the grave. This is an special realization coming on the 7th
anniversary of my mother’s death. I’ve got to make things happen.
A Portrait of Deep Clinical Depression on a Late Autumn Day
10-21-03: I could feel the
urgency and burnout seething through me throughout the day at school. Maybe it
was caused by a chemical imbalance to the seasons changing, the colorful leaves
falling, and the weather getting chillier. I was just too tired to care about
work. I sense a state of exhaustion overwhelming me with too many reoccurring
technical problems from overly needy students nagging on my soul. I couldn't
solve every problem and "save" everyone... especially myself. I
wished I could have more time to be with someone I could relate to during the
school hours just so I could have someone to help me reenergize my zeal to
live. I felt like I did when I was a student at CCAD where I looked around and
didn't have a clue of what I was doing here and where I was going. I was just
overwhelmed by life. To paraphrase Kurt Cobain, I wish I were dumb so then I'd
have some fun. I was emotionally lost and tired to my mental core. I was numb
and clearly without fun. Am I accessible to everyone around me? Otherwise, I'm
just an alone star in the universe. There was an unnerving quiet surrounding
me, even in my classroom once I told everyone the rest of class was a workday.
All the jokes had gone old. There was an eerie stillness to the day. I wasn't
happy, but I had to carry on. God give me sanctuary in art, music, or a movie.
Anti-amen.
I Was Gone
10-22-03: Life didn’t matter when you feel dead. And I am.
My brain’s synapses, dreams, and memories were still out of order. It was like
someone had erased everything from my mind and I was left with an empty vessel
of a body. I could do what I wanted with it. Nothing was holding me back. No
routine of getting ready for work and teaching classes. I was free to live and
die at my pleasure. I was free to live in my subconscious mind. I was gone.
And when you’re dead, you
can do anything. So I shaved my red-orange beard away. Every time you get very
sick and extraordinarily exhausted, you are reborn again the next morning. I
mainly make changes when I’m in such a state of emergency. I was emotionally
broke and ready for a new skin and clothes.
An Artist’s Defiant
Revolution of Society’s Status Quo
10-22-03:
We live in a world where creative artists on also on the
endangered species list. A desensitized society already infatuated and
over-saturated with media gossip has no use for their dreams anymore. So hear
this, all ye who dare not bare my call, I’m screaming out of my mind and
imagination to save your souls from apathy and superficial
Escaping From the Bad News Networks
10-22-03: Life gets so intense some days (and especially
nights) from watching the news or spending too much time alone that I have to
distract my mind into imagination and fantasies. There’s too much crap and
terror and unrest and war and sex and violence and words and art and crap.
Dirty to the sensational, I’ve gone everywhere and returned born again the next
morning.
Selling Sex vs.
Imagination
10-23-03: Judging
from watching TV, great sex has completely eclipsed a greater imagination. It’s
always sex, sex, SEX!! Sex sells more than showcasing fantasy dreamscapes.
Isn't that incredibly superficial?! Instead of showcasing some amazing magical
worlds, we get sex on TV. What’s sexy is what’s going to sell the easiest with
the public!! I suppose it's easier to lust than it is to dream. It's more
superficially attainable. It’s like getting laid is “better” than witnessing an
incredible dreaming since it’s something most of the population can empathize
with. People of creativity and vision are looked upon as dull and unattractive
unless they’re dreaming up sexy imagery and pornography. And then if it isn’t
sex, it’s drug references. Ah, drugs, the artificial high that anyone can get.
All these cheap escapes are showcased here on TV in all their excessive, silly
hipness. Yet why not sell dreams and visions? We seem to live in an opposite
world where artists are vilified and discarded. Meanwhile, the superficially perfect
beautiful people are treated like gods with their plastic surgery faces and
overly tanned bodies. They want to stay attractive and sexy forever while not
relying on their own imaginations and emotions to get them to a higher place.
It's a sick world we live in. And I'm declaring war on it. No more. I'm sick of
it all. I won't allow Sex to take precedence and priority over soul.
I've Gone to the
Limits of My Creative Existence
10-24-03: I've
gone the limits of my creative existence. I've taken my emotions to their
highest peaks of white-light ecstasy and their lowest valleys of pit-black
despair. I’ve tested the limits of my sex drives and fantasies. I’ve had the
greatest orgasms I’m ever going to have with the fantastic fetishes I possess
inside. I’ve taken art to the maximum universe where it just can’t get any
better than this before I start repeating myself. I’ve watching movies that
have blown my mind with their brilliance and power. Same goes with the electric
music I’ve absorbed into my emotions and mind. I’m too far gone to care
anymore. I’m wild-eyed and lost because I’ve been here before. I want out of my
mind. I’m overflowing with dreams. I don’t dare take drugs or else my sanity
may EXPLODE. I’m afraid for my mind. I hope I don’t slip and flip into an
alternate plane of consciousness without an anchor back to reality. Now that’s
swimming into genius!
Chemical Imbalances
Are Performing a Circus for Me
10-24-03: It’s
Friday night again and I realized that I’m actually having a good time simply
by being alone with myself. I’m exhausted from how hectic life can get. All I
desire right now is to defocus from life and watching some good TV and movies.
That is what makes me happy. I can get emotional orgasms just from being in a
heightened creative state of mind. Chemical imbalances are performing a circus
for me.
Why Worry?
10-26-03: Why
worry? It’s just LIFE? It’s no big deal. We’re going to vanish from this
plane of existence in time anyways.
Have
an Art Day Today
10-26-03:
Today was a gloomy Sun-day. The irony
may have inspired me. And in that I felt myself gravitating towards making art.
I was bummed out over my deflated love life, so I plunged myself into my work
and had an official Personal Art Day. I looked through some of my old Mac
archive CDs where I stored all the old digital 2D artwork. I got a creative
high from realizing how much great work I’ve produced, but haven’t shown yet to
the world. I was on the artistic verge of attack and invasion. It
was a creative conquest over the banalities of earth existence. I used to
obsessively work on all those Mac art pieces and Director files when I was down
in
Healing Art Dreams
11-2-03: “Ever have a dream that solves all your
problems that were troubling you the day before? I had that type of dream this
morning,” my dad expressed to me. Now he knows what I do for a living as a
creative artist. I make dreams that heal people with cathartic emotions and with
a new way of seeing life. That is the importance and value of art. That is why
it is so crucial to our society in order to use to use art as a mirror and as a
revelation.
Holding the Creative Spark
11-3-03: There
were some days where I woke up with a blank state of mind that alarmed my
emotions. I didn’t even feel the impetus to write down my dreams, subconscious
or conscious. It was radically disturbing for someone who is used to thriving
off of the high of creating. I’d always get a bigger rush from being
creative-minded. Sometimes I hadn’t made any artwork in several days because
I’d been “social”. “Is this how life goes after this? No more original content
and vision that allows life to move slower instead of seemingly going by
in a flash? Where is the fire to fuel my artistic flame?” I asked pleadingly
with myself.
The fright made me reminisce back to years ago when I was a possessed devil of an artistic man as an undergraduate and graduate student. I was burning everything I had to give for the love of art. I created every day. I slaved for the muse. I wanted attention so badly. And I was scared and aware that I’d some day lose my creative spark. So I decided to keep working like crazy and do as much creative work as I could until I got married and had a family, whereby I wouldn’t have the time, energy, or enthusiasm for art as I did when I was young and carefree. I took my youth and ran with it. I was single at the time, which meant I was making love to my artwork rather than making love to women. Judging from the work I produced, I had a lot of creative juice in me.
I’m Not Gay
11-5-03:
I’m a sensitive man and an artist, but that
doesn’t make me gay. I’m not gay. Therefore, I haven’t “come out” yet. My
apologies to the gay community.
Does It Really
Matter?
11-5-03: “Does
it really matter? Does it really matter? Does it really matter? Does it really
matter? Does it really matter? Does it really matter? Does it really matter?
Does it really matter? Does it really matter? Does it really matter?!?”
I’m Dying Here, But
I’ve Never Felt So Alive
11-10-03: I’ve
become
Digital
Artist Discovery?
11-16-03:
So where is my breakout film or piece of art? I have to question myself because
I seem to have unrealistic dreams while I choose to do anything I want when it
comes to computer art. Moreover, the digital medium I prefer to work in isn’t
one that will allow me to sell it for much of a profit. It’s almost like the
medium constricts one from truly advancing the art form from being anything but
to be used for commercial purposes. Perhaps that is where a dreamer like me
comes in… some creative loner outsider off in his own world (in
Existential Teaching
Job Position?
11-17-03: Then
at school, I finally found myself in the spontaneous mood to ask Ron and Ric
about what sort of promotion I’d be able to get since it was brought up that I
was still on a yearly contract. As I discovered, I was on a three-year visiting
artist employment contract that could be renewed every year. That boggled my
mind since it made my job seem somewhat terminal if I didn’t get
promoted soon to assistant professor. Though the chances of that happening
looked favorable, it did sober me up
to the reality that I could be considered expendable.
It simply brought back too many old memories from FAU of how uncertain my job
standing really was. Imagine: I’ve just bought a condo that I’m paying off
little by little every month. I’ve been teaching computer animation and video
classes my entire life. It’s all I know how to do. The job field is so
competitive that I’d be in risk of being unemployed indefinitely or working a
low-paying monotonous menial job. I lost much of my humor that I thrive on in
my personality. I wasn’t in the mood to joke around anymore. Could my future be
in jeopardy? Even considering dating someone suddenly felt impossible from my
own reawakened good judgment that my professional standing could be on shaky
ground. I can’t let anything endanger my job! Ric did say I was doing a good
job at the school and Ron was the one who informed me about getting me “upped”
up to a more stable position. (Come to think of it, Ron was the one who elected
me on the Library Committee to probably get me deeper into the college when
promotion time came around.) I’ve just been so self-confident about my standing
as a college teacher at CCAD that I’ve forgotten how it felt when you’re on the
bottom (just like a newly graduated CCAD student) competing with thousands of
others who have similar attributes as you. It’s a terrifying existence!! It
drained me… left me ill to my stomach, and gave me diarrhea. The blood left my
face. I could barely stand. I needed a quiet place to rest my nerves and
relieve me from feeling so damningly tense.
The world around me looked like a symbolic state of
mind of my own this afternoon: everything rushing around nearly ready to
collide, crash, and explode in a ball of fire. Voices and noises making me feel
faint and clueless. I felt like I was losing my mind. It happens sometimes.
Anti-Depressants Keep
Me From Being Too Bothered by the Instability of Life
11-18-03: My
rattled nerves and shaky emotions have been tormenting me lately, so I went
back to taking
Fear the Creative
11-20-03: People have been
saying that overly creative types should be “heavily medicated”. It’s like the
world’s afraid of an advanced
imagination! They can’t differentiate between drug-induced hallucinations and
the real imagination. They think that anti-depressants will ease the flow of
the insanity within life. Well, sorry, but it’s there and we have to deal with
it sometime.
Teaching, My Dream Job?
11-20-03: Ryan then asked me
if I plan on working at CCAD for life, or if I’m planning on moving on and
looking for someplace else to work. My first reaction was panic if I “should”
be moving onto something ‘better”. Am I not being cocky or ambitious enough? Yet
his provocative question made me realize that I’ve managed to stay on a regular course of going for what I wanted – an art
teaching job at a college or university. And for the past several years, I've
managed to do just that. So in that respect, I've been quite successful. Yet
there is still a deeper ambition in me that wants a bit more…. We'll see.
Teaching just feels like the best fit.
My Research into the
Creative Mind
11-27-03: I’m
doing research into the creative mind. And I'm using myself as the test
subject. I want to see what truly goes on in there. I want to know more. My
unending curiosity must know. It is the infinite. It is the undiscovered
universe. And I get no federal or state funding – just money from my own pocket
that I earn from my teaching job.
Retaining the Spirit of that 12-Year-Old Inside
12-4-03: I was wondering
back to my adolescence and questioning if I'd ever want to go back to feeling
and being that free again. Just imagine for a moment how that felt to be that
carefree again. Yet the more I thought about it, the more I immediately
realized that I'd never want to
actually be a 12-year-old again! All
I did as a teenager was dream of the freedoms, understandings, and knowledge
I'd have as an adult to better find my way through life. Ultimately, it was an
incredibly awkward and unwelcome time. I may not have had as many
responsibilities as I do now, but at least now I have my own personal freedom.
So I suppose the key to being an adult now is to get back in touch with the spirit of that 12-year-old of years
past. To feel the world fresh and new, naïve of responsibilities and one's
own mortality. One has to find that special mixture of the wide-eyed innocent
with the seasoned mature adult. You cannot lose that wild sense of curiosity,
or else your sense of wonder will die.
The Need to Get My
Work Published and Recognized
12-4-03: I read an article by my old colleague, Fran McAfee,
published in Computer Graphics that impressed, yet also subconsciously
pressured me. It brought back a flood of memories and emotions from the CEC.
For once, I felt like I wasn’t directly part of the place. Once an insider, I
was an outsider looking back in. I knew I could be just as good as Fran and Ed.
I was almost their equal. I felt that I could write articles just as well – yet
I haven’t been able to find a publisher. I’ve got the voice, content,
and talent. I just don’t have the exposure. I haven’t found the contacts.
Hence, I’m left an obscure brilliant individual voice, invisible to society.
I’ve got so much creative, artistic, and technical know-how that it’s
ultimately frustrating to not be able to take advantage of it by making money
and gaining recognition from it. I truly believe I am better than just being an
art school college instructor. I know my skills outweigh my role as a “mere”
teacher. I know I can be more than this. I’ve produced the artwork to prove
it. I’ve worked and worked and worked - and dreamed. I just need to now
get my art and writing recognized and published.
I’m High on Feeling
Down
12-5-03: I’m
raging tonight with menacing desperation for passion and love that I cannot
attain. Basically, I’m going mad with
sad. I’m made with sadness. I have to
channel out all my pain through listening to “Idiot Wind” over 8 times in a row.
I’m dying here and now for the finally last time!!!! Fuck me, I’m dying!! ?!?! AAAHHHHHHMMMM!!! I’m high on
feeling down. I feel hostility and longing, exhaustion with seeking out love
and only finding loss in the end. I have to return to acting like a child
because being a kid is what makes life fun again. Being a mature adult kills
the enjoyment out of life. So I have to mix both of them up in hysterical
nonsense existentialism. I don’t know what I’m doing, sometimes in a suicidal
craze-z-state. I don’t know is what I know for certain. I hate myself and I
want to cry.
It's also ultimately sad to note that capital amounts
of pain and loneliness are the crucial ingredients for making the tortured
passionate artist in me thrive and
keep on creating art. It's sad, but true.
Pessimistic
Predictions of a Tortured Obscure Artist
12-7-03: Is all
of my video/ computer animation artwork doomed to being “terminally arty”?
I am coming to the severe and urgent realization
that what I have to express to the world isn’t going to be heard by
99.999789447217% of the world. I’m just going to be an obscure computer artist
living in
The Commercial Formula (“It’s All So Clear To Me Now”)
12-8-03: I
attended a guest speaker at CCAD who graduated from our school back in ’94 and
now he’s directing a movie for Disney. Actually, that doesn’t sound as
fantastic as it really is. It’s a straight to video movie he’s directing.
Still, what it comes down to is that he made it. Unfortunately, he was
also the stereotypical epitome of enthusiasm for making money in the field of
media. And he’s got all the right ideas for it. He pitches wildly soulless,
excitingly created, derivative animation projects. It’s just like what I’d
heard a week ago with the “X-2” movies: “making something new out of something
old”. So what they’re doing is stealing what people have done before and
recycling it as there own with a new spin and perspective on it. “It’s “Raiders
of the Lost Ark” meets “Dances with Wolves” meets “Goodfellas”. “Big Movie Star
+ genre picture + special effects + hit song + diverse cast = BLOCKBUSTER!”
Everyone will be attracted to seeing the movie now! Show them something new
with something old. In a way, that’s “genius” since people will be able to
relate to it because they recognize something in it that they’ve liked seeing.
It eventually comes down to equations of what a mass audience is going to want
to see. It’s not about what’s emotional or original. It’s about what’s
commercial. “Is this going to make the producers money?” That’s what it all
comes down to when you’re producing commercial art. In order to make money, you
have to sell yourself. You have to make everything you do “fun”, “fun”, “fun”.
Toss in all your favorite movies in a blender and reserve it back to society.
Sadly, we’ve got so many people doing this that the majority of the
entertainment out there is incredibly bland because they haven’t tried doing
anything truly different. They’re making money in a children’s market
where the kids won’t be able to realize they’re watching recycled parts from
other shows from the past. Instead of being part of an Artist’s generation,
it’s like we’re living in the plagiarist’s generation. That’s absolutely nothing
to be proud of, but they don’t seem to care because they’ve just bought
another new 48’’ flat screen TV. Money kills off what’s pure and great about
art. True artwork isn’t commercial in the least bit. It’s meant to be a private
experience. They say that
Yet he did offer some hope. We
are creative art students who can make great animations and movies on a low
budget. We can make studios more money by spending less. We can make a great
“Punisher” movie in
I Feel So
Alive with the Music on My Side
12-10-03:
Now I’m obsessed into my artwork,
grooving to my music collection, and losing myself in my creative universe. I
feel so alive with the music on my side. I get a surge of adrenaline in my
veins and my mind and body demand that I do some art work. Music is what’s
giving me the relief, relaxation, and release that I desperately needed. I lose
myself in the music. It is my life force, my holy sonic temple to worship in
and allow me to channel it through my body and out by creating art.
Suffering from
Creativity Withdrawal
12-22-03:
I think I’m suffering from creativity
withdrawal. I’m out of my element of being in charge of my life and being a
free, independent spirit. When I’m here at my dad’s place, I’m not the one
totally in charge. I don’t get to control everything around me, and that leaves
me exhausted when my life is compromised with conformity and mediocrity.
Why Keep Paying to Watch Recycled Movies?
12-26-03: Are
the American people so stupid to keep dishing out their hard-earned money for
repetitious stories in movies? Since
The Ingredients for
My Eccentricity
12-31-03:
New Year’s Eve… and nowhere to go. Oh well, I’ll
hang out with my depression, a glass of red wine, and Eric Clapton blues. The
repetition of the days has taken its toll on me. I don’t enjoy repeating
myself. It’s like going to the movies and seeing the same movie remade with
different faces. The despair and loneliness linger on with every day. This
isn’t fun to be alive with these feelings. I take more risks now just to toy
with reality and make things happen. I make more art to keep me sane and keep
things interesting. I keep myself changing in order to keep from going
insane and being boring. I’m afraid of wasting my time with friends who’d
rather party than think, let alone dream aloud. So I’m staying at home,
waiting to make mistakes once I step again outside my door.
My Crippled Self
12-31-03:
“I’ve lived too long. How do I go on? Why should I go on?” Questions like
these echoed on my soul around 2:30 a.m. this morning after the New Year
firecracker-ed in. I had come down with another emerging cold (just after I had
finally defeated a month long cold), another killer headache, and insomnia
(from having taken a nap earlier this afternoon). I was dead tired, yet I couldn't get to sleep and I couldn’t heal my
body. I took shower after hot shower. I masturbated desperately over and over
again until I was out of semen or heavenly orgasms to ease the intensifying
pain. The headache medication I had taken hadn’t taken any effect besides
making my body even more hyper and exhausted. I simply had to lie it through on
my back with despair eating away at me. I’d had enough of this life and this
malfunctioning, overweight body. I couldn’t save myself by falling into dreams
this time. I was stuck with my crippled self. Somehow, I managed to drift to
subconsciousness and "die" peacefully. What a way to ring in a Happy
New Year.
This Life Is
Performance
1-4-04: This
life is performance. I am acting the role of “Eric Homan”. I fill it with
passion and context. I play the role of the struggling artist/ educator. I am
currently up for no awards. Where I am going I do not know for sure. My female
co-star is yet to be discovered and cast.
Anti-Wake
Up!
1-13-04: So
what did I find out? Don’t take life so
seriously. Have so FUN. It’s not that hard. I’m living in a dream. Anti-wake
up!
I’m Living the Life
1-14-04: I’m
living the life. Before I get "drowned" in family life conformity
(which I know will eventually happen to me), I’m fully dedicating my time and
energy and creativity to producing art and writing. I won’t get another chance
at it. I've got to take my moment and make it happen. I've got to work, work,
and work some more. It's my obsessive quest. It's all I know to do. I'm living
in a fever-dream that I know one day I will have to wake from. So I'm not going
to stop until I have to. I'm living the
life.
The Back to School
Blues
1-21-04: Based on last night’s deep sense of personal doubt, I
usually go through a week or so of bipolar emotional activity where anything will set me off because school
has restarted up again. My normal routine has been disrupted with a sudden jolt
of teaching performance stress. I’m being shaken out of my normal introverted
artist self and forced to be in an extroverted teacher self. It has been an
emotional personality adjustment. I have to go back and rejoin the rest of the
real world. I go through a time of subconscious fears and unbelief of my own
self.
Back to School
Observations
1-22-04: The
first day of class of each semester for each class I teach takes a lot out of
me because I have to be extra "likable", to the point, funny, fun, serious, intelligent,
knowledgeable, respectable, and, of course, educational. It sets the tone for
the rest of the semester. It's very much a performance. And there’s a certain
amount of nervous energy going on underneath my surface. It also means I find
myself going to bed at nine p.m. because I'm so exhausted. It's also a lot of
talking for me in explaining the syllabus, the course, technical information,
etc. And I'm a guy who doesn't exactly talk a lot, so it's a bit of a strain on
my vocal cords.
Today in Video II, I had
students bring in movie examples with interesting dream sequences since the
first assignment is a Dream Sequence. While we were watching clips from Beetlejuice
and laughing our butts off, I found myself wondering how I’m getting paid for
this. This is too much fun to be real work. My main job as a teacher is to
expose the students to these great dream samples, and to point out and analyze
the aesthetics of what makes it a dream. It’s a cinch to a movie buff
enthusiast like me. Today was sort of a fun day. The next few classes will be
much more lecture-based and a lot less "easy". As a teacher, you have
your fun days and your hard days.
Don't Fit Into This
World
1-27-04: I felt down today. I continually feel that I
am a brilliant person surrounded by a mediocre world. I just don't feel like I
fit into this world. I can’t find a woman who would be a right fit for me. I
wanted to switch to a different personality so life would be more interesting.
The oddest spark was having a conversation with Michelle Lach about some
bipolar people she’s known whose emotions go wildly extreme to the point where
they try to kill anyone close to them or themselves. And I thought I had my mood swings.
Adapt to the Pain,
Kid
1-28-04: Fight through the depression
and emerge on the other side. It’s the only way to become stronger.
Anti-depressants and drugs only delay or suppress the emotions. Adapt to the
pain, kid.
I do want to
die. I don’t want to kill myself, but I don’t see much point of living feeling
the desperate ways I do. This isn’t living anymore; this is surviving. This loneliness isn’t
something I can handle anymore. I wish I was stupid so I wouldn’t mind going
out with sluts. I don’t want this life.
An unbeatable migraine headache further devastated
me, weakening my self-defenses and plummeting me to hit emotional bottom.
I don’t really want to off myself. I’m only
"flirting" with death because I’m lonely and alone. After all, I need
someone or something to flirt with.
Relatively Fortunate Circumstances
1-29-04: As
part of my personal self-esteem recuperation program, I must express into
writing what relatively fortunate
circumstances I have around me. I’ve got a teaching job where I go into work
for usually four hours and then go home, watch movies, work on some artwork
that I enjoy doing, write on my home
computer, listen to great music from my impressive CD collection, relax in my
own condo, and watch great free movies from the local library. To a certain
extent, I’m in a fantasist’s heaven. Yes, I don’t have a regular girlfriend –
but at least I’m not suckered into a loveless, thankless relationship/ marriage.
I am thankful for my singlehood that allows me to work on my own things in my
own time. I’m so much more fortunate than I ever dared myself to dream.
1-30-04: As far
as my artwork is concerned, I feel like I’m in some sort of “Vincent van Gogh
trap” where I know I’m producing pure, real, honest, powerful, original work –
yet the majority of society doesn’t care. They want to be merely entertained.
They don’t want so much to have to think or feel. And if I do, I have to seduce
them into it, mainly by entertaining them first. It’s quite the crisis of
identity when I realize that my hard work that I’ve slaved over and poured out
my soul on doesn’t matter to everyone. It’s traumatic. What do I do to
solve this while retaining my own identity?! That is the mind-blowing
contradiction. I have to change not because I’m right, but because my existence
doesn’t fit in with the rest of the world. So what I’m doing is good artwork,
but it has no reason to be if so few people care about it. I have to make a
conscious effort to make something ordinary. Do you know how
insanely hard that is after you’ve managed to “break through to the other
side”?
1-30-04: As a
curious, ever-evolving artist, I constantly want to change. I don’t want my
artwork to be avoided and neglected by society. I want to be shown! I worked too
hard on it for it to fail. It is my responsibility to make it somewhat
commercial so that a wider audience will enjoy it. I do want to go work for PIXAR
out in
1-30-04: The
various escapisms I’ve found in my life are the polar opposite of the
depression I’ve felt. There’s powerful escapism in watching a great movie,
listening to a powerful diversity of music, being loved, feeling sexual
gratification, or creating art. Escapism is when you’ve withdrawn totally or
elevated yourself from feeling whatever tired emotions you were having. It brings
you closer to God, closer to the core of the universe. It’s a learning
experience with yourself and your soul. It’s a moment of bliss amongst the
stars.
“Why Are We Doing Here Existing?”
2-4-04: And
still we humans go about our days and lives without asking a massive
fundamental and essential question: “Why
are we doing here existing?” Why are we alive? We can’t answer these
questions, so we give up and lose ourselves in life’s distractions: food, sex,
work, drugs, alcohol, art, music, movies, love. Death may be the only place to
find a real answer to this question of questions. Or will we?!??
Expanding the Brain’s
Imagination Powers
2-6-04: It
seems that we as human beings haven’t even come close to tapping into the power
of our imaginations. We live, we breathe, and we dream. Yet the best we can do
with our fantasies is to express them in art forms like movies, paintings,
writings, songs, and games. It seems like we should be able to do so much more
with this presence inside us called imagination. It’s been said that we as a
human race have only learned how to use only 4% of our brain power. We could be
telepathic if we “knew” how to control it. Is it about tapping into our beliefs
and moving into something cosmic potential? Are we gods and we don’t even know
it? Can we use our imagination to have mind over matter? To be able to live
without eating for forty years? To be able to cry purple tears? To upset the sun
by saying its true name? To forget how to spell because it doesn’t have any
shame? Why aren’t we flying… or moving at the speed of crimson light? Why
haven’t we broken free? Why not create physical creatures from our minds? Can I
train the subconscious aspects of my imagination?
Seeking and Seeing
New Creative Worlds
2-7-04: I am in
love with seeing the world differently. It’s in my personality and it is what
drives my artwork. It’s what makes me excited and capable about spending the
long hours on the computer to discover new ways of communicating creative
visions. I don't want the see the world the same way everyone else does! I have
to be a real artist rather than just
another "marketable" movie director who simply rehashes and
re-imagines other people's ideas over and over until creative oblivion. I want
to be more! And I have been able to come up with quite a few unique and
original ideas. I refuse to be part of the cynical "artists" who
believe there are no new ideas. All they want to do is make money by copying
other people's styles and ideas. I refuse to live my life that way. I want to
see new worlds - not matter if they happen to be "uncommercial" or
not "family friendly". You have to go into "weird"
territory if you want to be different. You can't stay on earth forever. You
have to dream elsewhere!!!! And it is through making art that I have been able
to realize my dreams.
2-13-04: The most powerful people on the planet are not the
politicians. It just appears that way. Underneath the pulse of our
society are a group of individuals who have in their minds the ability to alter
how we live, think, and feel. These people are the artists – the dream makers.
Why? Because they lie within society waiting and dreaming of what comes next.
Why? Because they are, quite literally, the hungriest. They are the most
obsessive, passionate, and visionary people in the world. They dream because
they can. They are the superheroes nobody ever sees or knows about. They are
the ones who will rule the world when the time comes. They’re old and they’re
young. They’re the idealists who can’t stop from dreaming things up. They are
the illuminists of our times. We have the powers of the universe. The
ideas are made out of ultraviolet light. We Are the Dreamers. We are the
fortune-tellers. We are the miracle makers. We express our fantasies,
destinies, futures, pasts, and forevers. We are the awe-gazers.
Yes, this is a naïve concept, but it may also be naïve to underestimate the power of the human subconscious and imagination.
I Don’t Need Their Precious “Recognition”
2-25-04: I
suppose I didn’t even expect to get in. One of my writings had fit with
articles they had asked they’d publish. So I sent it in as a dare. It would
have been be hilarious if it got in. I suppose I don’t need their precious “recognition”. I can still keep doing what I’m
doing, which is making artwork I’d like to see!: Dear
Eric Homan: Thank you for submitting your essay to the Quarterly Review of Film
and Video. Unfortunately, your essay does not fit our editorial needs at this
time, and so we must decline to publish it. Due to budgetary concerns, we
cannot return manuscripts, discs, or other materials. You are now free,
however, to submit your essay to another journal, and we wish you every success
in your future ventures. Sincerely, The Editors. Yet, it is also quite humbling, reminding me again that not everything
is possible in this real, real world. Making your dreams come true and getting
them out and shown are two different obstacles altogether.
3-2-04: I think
it’s time for you to know a few more things about me, like my motivations for
how and why I’ve chosen to live my life the way I have after graduation from
art school:
There are times in my life where I feel a crisis is
upon me for living my life as a dreamer and lover of movies, music, comics, and
art. Most people around me don’t live that way at all. In a way, I feel they’re
living a fuller life than I am and I feel the intense insecurity and need to
change – immediately. But what I think is really at stake throughout my life
are my dreams and my artistic personality. I’ve been in love with
dreams and have been riding the highs of my imagination ever since I was four.
It’s what gives me the most comfort in this existence called “life”. And
all that follows revolves around this dire pursuit of dreams. Bear with me if I
stray.
I’ve
found my dreamer self in turmoil before, such as when I got rejected from the
first two grad schools I put my heart into getting accepted to. It was after
those rejections that my world came crashing down around me and I found myself
wandering around like a lost soul in need of a life. I was just months away
from graduating from art school and had spent so many hours passionately
working on my artwork in order to prove myself a worthy artist. It was like
having a rug swept out from under me and suddenly there was no solid ground for
me to stand on. It was also during this time that I diminished how much art I
was producing and starting thinking like someone who was entering the real
world. Dreams simply weren’t going to support me and pay my bills. I had to
make myself useful in a commercial society. Creativity and talent alone wasn’t
going to find me success unless I knew someone inside the movie industry. I
started going out with a girl who liked me, and I liked being liked. So I
started loosening my highly Catholic morals and kissed the sexual deep end with
her, which I don’t think I would have done unless I was in a state of personal
emergency where I needed to take risks and chances. After a while, I
didn’t have much hope for this relationship to last. Yet I soon lucky found
someone else who fit my personality better. Once again, my artwork and dreams
weren’t as important as the here and now. There were, indeed, secondary. I
needed to get back into the real world with real people and have a real relationship.
Yet, fate took a shock back at me. I got accepted by a different graduate
school that was perfect for artists who wanted to “pursue their personal
vision” with computer art. It was a perfect match and I went away to
Yet
during my two years of graduate school, I freaked and panicked about my chances
and abilities of actually becoming a teacher. I was, after all, a shy, quiet,
introspective guy with big dreams. And the wrong work environment with the
wrong kind of students (apathetic high school students, for example) could
leave me crushed and disillusioned – and once again, leaving my dreams
disserted. As a response to my building anxiety, I made a highly personal,
honest, confessional, yet savagely sarcastic interactive art piece called
“Vincent van Gogh Working at McDonald’s”. It was basically a future-tense
autobiographical “fantasy” of myself in the role of van Gogh, working at a
dead-end job where the unimaginative, unchallenging, repetitive work
environment slowly killed off my/ his artistic yearnings and passion to express
himself. It ended up being a satiric commentary piece about the current state
of artists in our society that don’t support the creative arts and its role in
fulfilling a sense of emotional peace and purpose within ourselves. It made the
viewer imagine a world without van Gogh’s “Sunflowers”, “The Crows”, or “Starry
Night” because society had crushed his spirit to work. He instead lived his
life working hard in a fast food joint for medium wage while living in
obscurity, sometimes making good paintings no one cared about. In a way, I
simply planted van Gogh’s life story in our modern times as a commentary of our
own times. It spoke about how I felt as a struggling artist in need of
financial and emotional support as well as how we don’t care or encourage the
lower-income artists.
After two years, I made it to my goal of graduation with several
well-made computer animation/ computer art projects under my belt. I had even
started teaching on my own as a teaching assistant and then on my own to my
very own class on a graduate and undergraduate level. It was a crucial learning
experience. Yet my relationship with my girlfriend suffered from my being away
and being focused too greatly on my studies. We got lost along the way and we
split up – another causality of pursing one’s career and dreams instead of
focusing one’s attention, time, and presence to someone dear. I couldn’t
maintain both dreams at the same time. Just as something awful was happening,
something incredible happened as well. Miraculously, a job position opened up
for me so that once I graduated I got hired on to the computer arts graduate
school university staff. I was now a real teacher on a university level. I
wouldn’t be teaching children; I would be teaching adults. Some of which were
older than I was! All the hard work and dedication I had done had proved
fruitful for something. I’d be able to continue making art while being in an
environment that produced art. It was an ideal match.
Yet
all in all, as I was succeeding professionally, I was struggling personally. I
was having a terrible difficulty filling in the empty space of my private life.
I felt like I simply wasn’t connecting with anyone on a personal level that
reveled movies, music, books, and art as much as I did. So I filled in that
emptiness the only way I knew how: by making art and making dreams. It was like
making love and producing beautifully unique and original children. And here
lies the paradox of being an artist: you can’t be a great creative artist
if you’re mostly an extrovert. You have to dedicate yourself, your time,
and your energy in order to make yourself good. “Luckily” for me, I grew
up an introvert and enjoyed being alone because that was where the magic of
dreaming emerged. That was where I found the most pleasure. But where there is
pleasure there is also pain. It kept me indoors too often and I became a
part-time recluse passionately working and writing away while listening to
great music and watching great movies. For a dreamer, it was
How
things change…. After two years of teaching at
Once again, luck played a role in my life. I was alerted of a full-time job opening at my undergraduate Alta Mater, the Columbus College of Art and Design, and I submitted my portfolio and demo reel. I had to wait and wait and wait for months for confirmation back if I had gotten the job. Fate was kind to this twenty-five year old dreamer – and I got in. What this meant was that I could continue making art while providing a decent income that could support my creative endeavors. Teaching computer arts at a college/ university level was an ideal way for me to continue being a professional and a dreamer at the same time. This is one of the hardest challenges for today’s artists to do in our society. I had found a way to balance being in the real world and exploring one’s private fantasy world at the same time. This was crucially important to my personal and creative survival. This was more important than gaining recognition for the artwork that I’ve poured my soul and imagination into so passionately. Teaching computer animation and digital video classes helps me learn and stay up-to-date with the software while keeping me in a creative environment that supports being artistic. That is something you simply can’t entirely get if you work in the commercial or freelance world where you’re forced to do jobs that tend to be rather soulless and technical. I’m too full of passion to be in that world for too long of a period of time. I am content in being a teacher. Besides, it’s what my parents were, as well as both my older sisters.
To Make Our Dreams Come True: My Emotional
Confessional Post Mortem
3-2-04: Now I
just wrote what may just be the most important confessional testimony of who I
am in my adult life that I’ve ever written. It took a spring-like day of
personal crisis in order for me to write this. I rarely have the ability to
fully articulate my feelings at any given moment – only when I feel inspired. I suppose that is one of my
rare gifts as an artist who can express what is inexpressible in life. I just hope it gets heard and understood by
those who know me and care for me. I wrote this as a desperation device for
people (and most importantly, myself) to understand me and the “abnormal”,
eccentric ways I’ve chosen to lead my life. 99% of society leads a “somewhat”
normal life. I know that is an extremely relative thing to say, but what I’m
trying to get at is that I’ve chosen dreams over sex. (Thank God for the
“miracle of masturbation”, though – to quote a line from Ghost World, a
movie about unique artistic “outcasts” who feel that they can’t relate to 99%
of humanity.) Dreams are my way of loving and living. It’s a way of sharing the
wonderment I see and feel within as a human being. Making art, for me, is like
giving out gifts of love and life. They’re a way of communicating and
expressing to other people how it feels to be a human being with dreams in our
society. And who doesn’t have dreams?!?
Some have given them up and some still want to hear more. Yet it’s the true artists who are able to fully
realize their own dreams and make them real enough as art in order to pass them
along to others. That’s what makes artists extraordinary
to our society. We sacrificed ourselves in order to make our dreams come true. It was important
enough to be lonely and suffer and cry enough to express what we felt and saw
inside. In a way, we didn’t have much choice. We cared too deeply. It was what
made us heroic and tragic. We’re our own personal savior and enemy in our own
lives. Amen to that.
So once again to restate what this is all about, it’s
been about my pursuit of dreams for the high and the meaning they give my life.
It’s true that it’s a naïve, innocent goal to being a dreamer. But it is dreams that make us. Without dreams and
dreamers, we wouldn’t have the great art we have today… or the technological
wonders we surround ourselves and rely on. It is dreams that resurrect the
sense of childhood awe we used to have of the new world we saw around us. Isn’t
that something worth re-experiencing? Isn’t that worth sharing? Isn’t that
worth living for?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All right now, I’m exhausted. This was nearly two and a half hours of non-stop writing from the depths of my
heart. I can’t do any more. My will to dream today is all dried up. Time to
rest and dream again tomorrow.
I believe that through writing this I have a better
understanding of what I’ve been trying to say in my “Artist’s Statements”
writing. It’s been about my pursuit of dreams and what it’s taken to get there.
It’s my personal history from my own personal experiences.
I
was in chaotic personal state. I’m alright now. I’ve found my reaffirmation to
my life. Thank you, journal. Thanks for allowing me to open up on a creative
palette.
“Carol Ann’s Theme” (from Poltergeist) played
in the background on loop for twenty times as I wrote this up. It was the mood
fuel that kept me driven.
Change -
Your - Mind
3-4-04: *IMPORTANT*: If you feel one way and
it’s an insecure feeling, do the opposite to contradict your personality.
Change -
your - mind. It’s a great way to relieve stress – by
facing your fears and anxieties by counterattacking them. I’m choosing
socializing with people over watching movies tonight and this week. How
radical. It’s up to me if I want to go out and meet people or not. If I feel
depressed and lonely, I always have the option of doing something about it.
The Weather, Words,
and Images Rejuvenated Me
3-5-04:
I feel happiest when I am creative and inspired.
This afternoon, the spring charged back with a diligent bliss storm of great 73
degrees weather. What was supposed to be thunder storms transformed into
impossibly gorgeous blue skies (well, at least they were after four months of
gray, cloudy, cold winter-hell). The winds were awesome, at an audibly roaring
30 to 40 mph! God, I love the sound of that wind-gushing whoosh! Now this is my kind of weather patterns! I videotaped the
trees swaying furiously and happily as the cool-warm air gushed in. I also did
time-lapse video of the white clouds swirl formations swim over above. I was
cloud-watching in wonderment. I was also reading back issues of Wolverine on my back porch of my condo.
Surprisingly, these comics were packed with some amazingly creative concepts
that
3-5-04:
I must disclose and express that to be in a
state of creative inspiration is better than sex for one main reason –
it doesn’t happen all that often. Creativity and inspiration doesn’t happen to
everybody either. Few know how to tap into the stream of consciousness that
allows one to feel and see what others cannot. With sex, you can have an orgasm
any time you want! Have it with a woman, a man, or with yourself. It’s a
physical sensual act that any living organism can perform. It’s a great, great
feeling and rush… but once it’s over it’s gone. And having too much sex simply
makes the experience and feeling repetitive. Yet with inspiration, you have a
rapture in the mind and imagination. Things come together in a way that
most of the world doesn’t see. Artists are the ones with the visionary sight
and might. It’s a completely natural high. HAVE YOU PONDERED INTO THE
INFINITE LATELY? I have…and I like what I see.
An Artistic
Self-Expression of the Surreal World Surrounding Me
3-6-04: My
artwork is a sincere emotional and spiritual reaction to the surreal world that
I observe around me. It’s like a global mental ward. Turn on the TV and watch
the news – it’s bad news. Watch parents split up. Daddy has a new girlfriend;
mommy has a new boyfriend. It doesn’t make sense. It's reality nowadays! I’m
just responding to the chaotic insensitivity and emotional chaos that reality
has become. It’s a world without innocence, without true love. It’s a sexual
abyss of partying, drinking, fucking, drugging, and forgetting. I don’t want
any part of that world. So I escape into the surrealism of my artwork. I don’t
paint pretty flowers. I create crazy worlds of another dimension that reflect
what’s around me. I've got the guts to put up a mirror to these crazy times and
paint in pixels what I see. And I know that makes me an artist - a true artist.
So few are willing or crazy enough to do so… unless they're comedians.
I Love What I Do -
Teaching
3-14-04: Being
an art school instructor doesn’t really pay all that well. I mean, my salary
can support myself, but it wouldn’t fully support a family. It can support me
and maybe a wife, but not children. But there is one major catch to why I’ve
chosen to teach – I love what I do. Now how many jobs out there do people
actually love doing their job? Not
many. They may pay much better, but it doesn’t make up for not enjoying your
livelihood. And teaching isn't always "fun". Some days it really
sucks and has its challenges. Yet as a whole, I feel deeply satisfied with
being a teacher and helping inspire some young minds to a more successful
future.
Estranged from the
Catholic Church
3-14-04: Religion
simply doesn’t hold any place or meaning in my life anymore. Mass doesn’t
create a spiritual connection to the artist or the human being in me. For those
with a creative mind, the repetition of the Catholic mass drives me slightly
mad. I am not joking. A gilded
crucified Christ hangs above the Alter. It holds no deep emotional connection
or importance for me now as an adult. I get more spirituality from the movies I
watch. I am not joking or kidding here. I'll take The Last Temptation of
Christ over going to church on Sunday any day.
My dad is also so very bored, sighing loudly and
disinterested during a Catholic mass service that we both have to sit through.
Thankfully, this attitude and behavior allows me to slip out with the excuse
that I don’t need to go to church every Sunday if I don’t care for it either.
“Like father, like son,” they’ll say. So hooray! I’m free!!! I don’t have to
daydream numbly through an hour long Sunday mass again!
3-18-04:
Have I lived my
life well? Did I make the most of what time I had? Was the urgency and passion
of living to my fullest lead me to desperation? Did I sense my mortality and
blandness that I had to urgently do something about it?! Was living a normal
“happy” life such an impossibility for me? Did I make the most of myself? Was I
able to make myself greater than I knew I could be? Did I see past average
mortals’ pleasures and want more out of my being than just marriage, sex, and
kids? Did I care too much for seeing through my imagination and expressing what
I found? This legendary life I wanted to be?
This Spark of
Inspiration
3-19-04: READ, Eric!... and Remember: Simply read from your journal, Eric, as
narration for time-based artwork with video or still photos as the visual
element. Create instrumental soundtracks in Garage Band. The narration tracks
are strong enough. Trust in yourself enough that they’re good enough. Believe me, Eric. You may not believe yourself
tomorrow, but your Eric Homan of March 19th, 2004 at 11:33 p.m. on a
Friday night believes in this spark of inspiration. He was hungry enough to
want to go for it.
3-21-04: And
I’m using the available time I’ve got left before I get married in a few years
to make as much artwork as I can. God, I know I won’t have the time, energy,
ideas, imagination, and enthusiasm forever. I’m just here shooting off my
arsenal of creativity. I’m a demigod of inspiration. I am a being of art.
A Master of Absurdism
and Surrealism
3-23-04:
I am a master of Absurdism and Surrealism.
Absurdism is a relevant art movement because we live in ever-increasingly
absurd times. My art is a reaction to my conservatively insane, maddening life.
And that’s life. Just look around. There's Absurdism everywhere you look, on
TV, on the Internet, on the radio, and in the movies. You can't escape from it.
So I embrace it and make it my friend. I take all the craziness and wrap it in
a bow. I make it into my own artwork. It's a sign of the times. And then again,
the times have always been crazy. We've always been in a state of chaos.
Reflections on
Rejections
3-24-04: And
then I got an email message this
morning from the jury for the SIGGRAPH computer animation festival. That alone
told me all I needed to know. I got the same old standard informally polite
rejection notice. I’m not surprised, though discouraged that I spent so much
time on a project that won’t get an audience because it’s not “good” enough.
This is the fifth time in five years I’ve been rejected by this conference. I
know that SIGGRAPH is not an "artist"-friendly showcase. They prefer
slickly-produced, technologically advanced, purely computer animation narrative
projects. (No mixed media or experimental approaches seem to get accepted.) I
was hoping to break through. I suppose if David Lynch was an unknown and had
down a computer art animation project like I had done, he would have gotten in
either.
Then again, who needs SIGGRAPH? I don’t need to get
an industry job. And that’s what you get if you make it in. I'm not so sure I
want to be "in". I'd rather be on the out and still have my freedom
to create.
"It’s All Right"
3-24-04: "It’s
all right. It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s
all right. It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s
all right. It’s all right. It’s all...”
Domesticity
Is a Killer to the Creative Drive
3-27-04: Domesticity
is a killer to the creative drive in me. I found that out firsthand, once
again, by assisting my sister Tanya and her husband Steve move into their new
home. After an hour or two, I was ready to depart. We stayed for four hours
instead. My God, imagine someone as creative as I doing repetitive, manual
labor?!? Just imagine Beethoven and Mozart as garbage men and how they would
have felt. I’m simply on a separate plane of thought. Making babies and keeping
up a house requires little to no real imagination. They’re just repeating what
they parents had done before them. Get married, make children, and die. Well, I want MORE!!!! Is that so terribly wrong?!? I can’t live my life in
"happiness" by spending my life playing card games with family. I’ve
got more on my mind!! My emotions need to be let out and
expressed! My imagination can't wait around forever!! I can’t help it if my
family doesn’t share the same types of intellectual conversation and ideas that
would compel each other. I don’t want to small
talk or have small-minded chit-chat!
I don’t truly care about how many shrubs you want to put in your front yard! I
don’t care about washing the dishes! After an hour of helping, I went back into
the car and read my addictively entertaining and illuminating “Peanuts” cartoon
book. I was at least getting some terrific wisdom and humor back. I felt like an intellectually
starved man. I needed creative nourishment. “You must like your solitude,” my
dad asked of me. “No! I just prefer to be around creative people! Suburban
lifestyles are just bland to the point of suffocation!! It actually does stifle
and weaken my creative spirit! And then my sisters act like I’m being a jerk to
them!! I don’t mean to be “different” or “depressive”, but they’re the reason I
get so down. They’re not interesting!!!
I’m used to being around people who know a lot about film, art, and technology.
Instead, my family and cousins want to talk about babies! Always babies! The
only baby I’d like to talk about is the “Star Child” from “2001: A Space
Odyssey”!!! My sisters act like I should be spending loads of time and
affection to my new nephew. I’ve seen a baby before! And my nephew Ryan is a
beautiful baby boy! And I saw my nephew last week. I held him today for two
minutes and then my arms got tired. Once I’m around a domestic setting for too
long, I feel like I’ve been put in a bad mood. It’s the stench of conformity
that ills me after an hour or two. Being around my overly normal family made me lose my sense of humor and happiness. I felt
like I was wasting my time. I know this all sounds like I’m being repulsively
negative and anti-social. But in truth, I simply and desperately want to be
around more brilliant company. I want to be around artist. I want to be
creative, be productive, and get my work shown. I need to get exposed and gain
some recognition for my artwork. It is my utmost and most urgent desire. I only
felt my sanity was saved by playing Lou Reed’s “Kill Your Sons” on repeat in my
"memory stereo" inside my emotional head. “You look like you need a
hug!” my dad exclaimed aloud before grabbing me after we got home. Yes, indeed.
I needed something. Rest. Being
domestic is exhausting work when you're not used to it.
My Sensitive
Imagination
4-6-04: I have
this uncanny ability to feel empathy for people. If they tell me how they’re
feeling or what they are thinking, I’ll use my sensitive imagination skills to be them. I’ll actually remove myself
from my personality.
Breakups Devastate My
Urge to Make Art
4-7-04: When a romantic breakup occurs, it makes all
the dreams and artwork I’ve done seem rather meaningless. I feel utterly alone
in this world. That existential urgency and desperation alters my personality.
I need a replacement to fill in the shallowness I feel in my life.
Living in My Own
Personal Fantasy World
4-8-04: My
mother always told me since I was about four years old that I live in my own
personal fantasy world… and I’ve been living there ever since. I recognize its
effects on me fully now – especially all the ecstatic highs and the suicidally
depressive lows. I feel the urgency of time. Because of this, I have become an
obsessive workaholic who doesn’t want to waste an hour with pity small talk or
going out and having “fun”. Before I go to bed, I usually brush my teeth while
taking a piss in order to save time. I’m too busy imagining great dreaming,
creating great artwork, watching great movies, reading great books, or
listening to great music, and writing these great words. In the process, I’ve alienated
myself horrifically… and I realize that now. That is why I feel such loneliness
and such hurt when a possible relationship breaks up. I’ve been aware of my
fear of being alone since I was young. The first real girlfriend I ever got I
wanted to be with the rest of my life because I didn’t want to be lonely again.
Too bad I got frustrated by how lonely I still was while I was with her. Still,
I’d rather have the illusion of love than no love and no girlfriend at all.
Life scares me. I worship creativity and how I’m able to conjure up such
radically different thoughts. The paradox of this is that I can’t truly relate
to other people on a long-term basis who doesn’t share those qualities; but
those who do happen to be rather disturbed and unstable themselves, which makes
being in a relationship with them oftentimes “unworkable”.
So Damned Lucky – I
Never Stopped Dreaming
4-8-04: The irony of my life so far is that I’ve been
able to continue living within this fantasy world by working at educational
systems that allow me to continue creating my dreams into time-based art
projects while teaching classes based on the programs I work with. I’m actually
very, very fortunate in that regard.
While eating dinner with the two visiting artist animators from the now defunct
Walt Disney 2-D animation house, I could feel the disappointment at the table
that the once great house that Walt built was now no longer making 2-D animated
movies. And the students who sat with us who specialized in 2-D hand-drawn
animation had to unfortunately accept it. How the hell did I manage to steer my
way into a “safe” field of computer animation!?!? I never meant to go into the
route! I didn’t even think I could compete with my more technically gifted
classmates during my first year in graduate school. I considered dropping out.
Somehow, I stuck with it and got my Master’s Degree. Come to think of it, I was
damn lucky to get into any graduate school! I knew I had to get into teaching
so I could continue making art because I
had to. Creating art was now in my blood and mind. I needed a lifestyle
that would nurture it. And teaching time-based computer art courses at a
college level was the solution. Now the major obstacle I face is to gain
recognition for the artwork I’ve produced. Experimental time-based artwork
doesn’t get shown unless you’re a well-known “name”. I’ve literally created a
stockpile of art arsenal, but I have no way of releasing it to a society that
wants to consume such “creative, conceptual, experimental material”. And if I
give in to being a normal person, I give in and leave my dreams behind. But my
dreams are my most precious essence of who I am as a living organism in this
“universe”! But I don’t want to be alone!!!!! Go, I’m overstressing out here! I
may just need to see a psychiatrist. “You’ve got problems? I’ve got 5,388 pages of problems, depression, and
dreams!!”
“Fantasy” Hitting Bottom
4-8-04: Bottom line: I am exhausted of myself. I
can’t live in a fantasy world while living in a real world. It’s my life’s
GREAT painful struggle. I’ve realized that I’m a silly clown of a man because
my life is so full of loneliness. I alternate between comic antics and dour
despair like a manic-depression acrobat. And now I can’t take another fall. I
feel too obsessively deeply inside. I feel too much. My problem is that I blow
everything out of proportion. Because of the intensity of my imagination, I make a mountain out of a molehill – a
catchphrase my mom told me when I was six-years-old. I crumble from thinking
that women don’t care for me. My world deteriorates. Or does it? Is my anguish
just an illusion self-created or brought on by society? My God, it is! It’s a state of mind of emotional
distress that I’m obsessing on for too long. I haven’t let myself break free of
it because I want the world. So why do I want the world? Because I want to get
women and show off to those who teased me as a kid growing up. I don’t need to
obsess on the melancholy. I can move on. I can change my emotions. I can
control my feelings. I don’t have to be
down. But I’ve still got my “problems”. I can’t deny that I have to do battle
with how over-sensitive I am. But I can still grow.
Maybe it’s a game. The hypersensitive are bound to
lose. So I’m sick of playing this
whole outcast role!! It’s too “deep” to live. Yes, I get more depth to my
character, but I insist I get some love in my life. Maybe that’s why I make so
many jokes?
“Eric’s got a panic attack!! Eric’s got a panic
attack!!”: I’m looking nakedly emotionally and hysterically at the male and
female students surrounding me as living skeletons and bones. We’re all just
wasting away; waiting to live, but never ready to die. But we will….
My memory of what words to write evaporate as I write
while listening to a visiting artist speaks. I can’t concentrate long enough
for them to make sense. Maybe they just did now, but barely. I can’t listen and think at the same time. I’m barely
making it as I write right now. I’m a man tiptoeing on the edge of the emotional
“Uncertainty
excites me, baby! Who knows what's going to happen? Lottery or car crash, or
you'll join a cult. Probably maybe, possibly love. This is probably maybe,
possibly love, possibly. Mon petit Vulcan. You're eruptions and disasters. I
keep calm, admiring the lava. I keep calm. How can you offer me love like that?
My heart's burned. How can you offer me love like that? I'm exhausted! Leave me
alone!” –“Possibly Maybe” by Björk.
I Feel the Pulse of
the Clock Ticking Away
4-9-04: I
honestly don’t expect to live all that long. It may seem like I will since I
wake up every morning, but I can also feel the pulse of the clock ticking away
as I get older and older. It’s simultaneously moving faster and slower. Hence, I feel so much
urgency to get more artwork done while I've still got the energy, drive, and
freedom. It's that important to me. I keep telling myself I'm running out of
time… out of life. And that's fairly true! My days, more or less, are numbered.
I've got to make every moment count. It's no wonder I don't want to engage in
small talk. I want to use that time to create and be creative! I want to make
my life mean something. I don't want
to just be an ordinary human being existing on this planet temporarily. I want
more!
To Be Mindless and
Unaware Again
4-11-04: I looked
into my new nephew Ryan’s eyes while we were watching Baby Einstein and
realized that all he has to worry about in the world is a bunch of toys on
strings dangling from the ceiling. His view of the world hasn’t been deluded
with worries, ego, emotions, heartbreak, death, sex, drugs, and lunch money.
Existence is all so very simple and new. There is no problems yet. I yearned to
be him. What a joy it would be to be mindless and unaware again.
The Downsides to
Teaching
4-12-04:
There is a part of me that doesn’t enjoy
teaching sometimes. It does get a bit too repetitive, especially for restless
creative souls like mine. It wares me down to watch yet another encouraging,
yet mediocre student video piece. I want more out of them. Still, I can’t truly
complain about the hours that I work. How many people work four weekdays for
only four hours per day and one day for ten hours? (Yet that doesn't include
all the hours outside of class where I keep working in the software to keep
fresh with it.) I’m so fortunate I grow bored with it.
I Can See Outside of
Myself
4-12-04:
Through the internal perception of hindsight and
imagination, I think about myself in the future and wonder if the future me
will see how I’m feeling lately and object for being so self-indulgently
serious and depressive. Will he just laugh at the way I’m acting and wish I
wasn’t so ridiculous?! Will he get angry with me for not being more brilliant?
And at the same time, I feel like I’m running away. Maybe there’s always been a
part of me that’s been running away. Yet with the power and insight of
imagination, I can see outside of myself in order to feel happy. I can remove
myself from a body of pain and live as another person looking at me while
questioning, “Why are you so sad? I’m
not.”
Teachers Are
"Failed" Artists
4-14-04: I feel
that the faculty of CCAD is full of great, frustrated, more-or-less
disillusioned artists who make artwork, but cannot make it big in their
respective fields. They know their craft and trade by heart and by their own
individual passion. Yet they never fully made a huge impression upon the art
world, which continues to neglect them. So as a result of their commercial
impotency, they teach at a private art school. I feel that I'm one of them. Or
maybe we're all really unrecognized van Goghs, Picassos, and Spielbergs?
How Can Normal Life
Possibly Compare to the Human Imagination?
4-17-04: After
spending the late afternoon and evening with Kon, I realized I had done the
“right” thing. If I hadn’t acted and
gone out with someone, I would have had to deal with a day full of severe
depression caused by isolation, numbed out by having to take an extra
anti-depressant. I came to realize that I really live in a condo full of collections. My journal has been my
default roommate, love, best friend, and faithful companion. I’ve even made my
artwork my friends. They’re so good for me… and yet so harmful as well in how
I’d rather spend more time with my creations than real average people. And in
that lies the problem and paradox: how can normal life possibly compare to the
additive illustrious qualities of the human imagination? To twist an old
phrase, reality is nice to visit, but I wouldn’t like to live there. While
showing Kon my condo after seeing the movie this Saturday night, I felt that I
lived in a truly empty condo – no matter how many CDs or comic books I have. No
matter how much art I make, I’m still by myself… unless I slip away into
writing these words or dreaming up some new creation that may or may not make
me "famous" (which is highly doubtful that it will). The great thing
about doing the art is that it keeps my technical teaching up to par, that is a
huge part of my job, as well as build up a strong portfolio of work. I got the
uneasy inkling from Kon that once a family came into the picture (which will
inevitably happen to me, sooner or later), my days of “collecting” and creating
art will be up… or at least compromised to a certain degree. I pretty much felt
that these were the final years of my "extended adolescence". I have
to grow up and raise a family. I’ve hit that age in my late twenties where it
almost seems like I have to settle
down. But the loner/ dreamer/ rebel/ individual in me says that I’m not so
sure.
Wish We Had Been
Something Else?
4-18-04: Don’t
we all look at our lives at a certain point with a certain degree of depression
and wish we had been something else? Gone somewhere different? Lived a better
life? Made better choices? None of us are where we wish we were at. It’s a
common human delusion. We’re always dreaming. In my own case, I have a unique
scenario where I didn’t have the opportunities to lead a “normal” life due to
my many deficiencies. So I swayed into the arts and movies. I set out for a
realistic goal of becoming a college computer art teacher. I made some descent
computer art along the way. Now I’m 27, single, living in a condo in
My Timeless Art
4-18-04: One
thing I recognize in appreciation of the artwork that I produce is that there
is a timeless quality to it. You could watch it in fifty years or fifty
centuries from now and it’ll still be about human emotions, visual designs,
artistic expressions, creativity, and
individuality. It’s not about technology or special effects or what’s
popular. It’s about what’s inside.
And those qualities never go out of style.
Teaching or Industry
Work?
4-19-04: It is
pretty much true some days that I am only working as a college instructor in
the meantime as I gather together enough artwork to “break out” into the real
music video/ movie marketplace. But I also know that I’m just like the
thousands of other ambitious video/ computer animation artists who have the
same dream. Yet I still love teaching. I love helping people, especially young
people make a difference in their lives. And I don't know if working in the
industry is really a wise direction for a personal artist like myself. There is
little to no art in the commercial art world.
Panic Attack: I Hope
the World Ends Soon
4-19-04: A
Realistic Nightmare: I hope the world ends soon. I can hear it happening
outside right now tonight. The sky just cracked up. A nuclear flash of light
burst in the distance outside. My loved ones are dead. I’m hiding in the
basement with the door closed. Will there be a tomorrow because there isn’t any
future? I do feel that these are the last days of something. Bachelorhood?
Being an artist? The school year is ending and the excitement of an unknown
future is looming. Maybe I don’t even recognize how good I’ve got it… compared
to being a graduating senior!?! Oh, the panic attacks arise!!!
Reality and
Responsibility Are Smacking Me in the Face Again
4-23-04: It was
the overwhelming responsibility of having to take care of myself for the first
time in my life. I’d have to learn how to cook. There was no meal plan during
the summer. I’d have to learn how to feed
myself. This was all too much. I’d also have fix things in my home that
broke down and protect myself if my place is broken into. It was just all too
much for myself, a fantasist and dreamer. Reality was smacking me in the face
again.
The Collaboration Between
Teacher and Student
4-23-04: One of
the big secrets of my deciding to become a teacher is this: I learn so much from simply watching the
students work. Each of them has their own ways of problem solving and coming up
with unique ideas. I get to be exposed to their new methods and learn from
them. It’s an amazing relationship because they originally learn from me. It’s
like they’re giving back what I’ve given them. It’s a terrific, default
collaboration. In return, I get inspired from their creativity, both in their
concepts and in their technical skills.
Solitude, My Secret
Disease
4-23-04: I am
rather sheltered. It “matures” me to hang out with my peers – Ryan the New
Divorcee and Peter the Impregnator of a Married Woman’s Baby. Talking to them
cleared my head of sorts of my own particular romantic vacancies. It is clear
that I live too much of my life in solitude. It’s my secret disease. I live
expertly in a land of delusions and dreams… and not enough time in reality –
cruel, disappointing, distressing reality. People go in and out of love. I even
found out that this girl that Ryan and
I like has a new boyfriend. And all the
ex-girlfriends of mine are also in relationships right now as well. That’s life, Eric. Live with it, but don’t let
it bring you down so much. Have a couple of beers and watch a good movie. Waste
your time and enjoy yourself outside of yourself. Through their humbling
company, I could let go of it. Thanks, friends.
The Greatest Gift of
Being a Teacher: Never Compromising My Artistic Vision
4-25-04: One of
the greatest gifts of being a teacher at a college level is that I can continue
being a creative artist. I don’t know of many other job field where I would
have that extraordinary privilege. This is one of the main reasons why I chose
teaching over going into the gaming or special effects industry. I have the
freedom and time to keep working on my own personal artwork. I knew well ahead
of time that if I worked in the animation industry, I would be too tired and
exhausted to even consider working on my own work once I got home. Working 60+
hours a week in the film/ animation industry will wear one down and dry up all
of one's creative batteries. Sure, it pays so much better. But is it really
worth it if you will never have anything original, personal, or creative to
say?! To me that was a HUGE sacrifice. Too great and grave for me to even consider.
I'd rather have the somewhat more relaxed and flexible teaching schedule. That
way, I can keep dreaming my dreams. Sure, they may not be seen by as many
people. But at least I didn't have to compromise my vision.
Where Is My Audience?
4-27-04: Am I writing papers and essays that no one
truly wants to read? Have I put all of my passions and energy into something
that won’t have an audience? Have I forsaken my life to terminal obscurity?
Doesn’t society want to read about someone who has even bigger, more absurd
problems than their own? Don’t they voyeuristically want to discover the
extreme emotions deep inside someone who is even more sensitive and fragile
than they are?
"Keep Working on
Your Art"
4-27-04: Ric Petry, the Dean, empathized during our
faculty meeting today for us faculty to keep working on artwork to stay
relevant in our chosen fields. We’re artists and we need to set an example. Ha
aha ha a hah ha!! Like he really needed to tell me that!! My God,
I must be the example for everyone to follow! I’ve only created some 500
interactive art projects, 15 computer animation shorts, 20 video shorts,
thousands of pages of writing, and dozens of miscellaneous art projects. Of
course, the cosmic joke is on me. I was only able to do this much work because
I don't have a personal life. Am I truly winning or losing?!?
5-1-04: I’m
starting to come to the realization that life isn’t worth living anymore. Not
with this level of pain and loneliness. It’s like I’m living a very complicated
slow-mo form of suicide. I’m sacrificing myself into my artwork and writing. My
freedom and my creativity are my only reliable friends. I have other real
friends, but they can only give so much of themselves to be with my company.
Doing artwork is like my life support and my death machine. It’s my
legacy and my epitaph. I don’t have anything else to give in this world… this
wild, chaotic meaningless existence. I look around and see so many people I
don’t quite relate to – and it wounds me deeply. It wounds me more I can’t find
a love that will stick around. But I do have to thank that I am not in a
relationship with a woman who would only drag my dreams and I down. Now that
would be a sin to my artistic pursuits. I’d
rather be lonely and with my freedom intact instead of being in a dead-end
relationship that isn’t going to truly fulfill me. I’ve got
acquaintances with women who have children and now they’re too deep in the
thick of all them to have any time for what’s important to him. I know it’s not
right to be so selfish and self-centered, but this is a competitive
world! How can one get ahead when you’ve got a wife and kids sinking you down?
You have to work hard. You have to work harder. You even have to work harder
than that.
Eric’s "Great Depression"
5-2-04: I
recognize that I have a major depression problem that needs medical treatment
with anti-depressants. I am too far gone. My emotions are going to kill
me. And there’s no point to living with this agonizing suffering!! It’s like I’m going
through my own life-long “Great Depression”. Yet when I wake up after an
especially painful day, I feel that much stronger having endured through it. What doesn’t
kill me must make me stronger.
The Emotion Test
5-4-04: This has been a test on your emotions. You have control over them. You have the right to make yourself feel sad, happy, depressed, high, or down. It’s all a test to see how you can do.
Teaching
and Speaking From the Heart
5-5-04:
After
editing for so many hours and helping students with their last-minute problems,
I went on to teach my final day of Video I class where I gave a little extra
after reading some lukewarm student evaluations of my performance as their
instructor. I took it upon myself to assertively, yet humbly express why we
looked at so many music videos as we did, and why I felt it was so important
for the students to talk during critiques. I verged on overt sentimentalism at
the end by thanking the students for a great and fun semester and professing
how much they’ve grown throughout the course of the four months. The great
thing about suddenly being vulnerable and serious in class is that everyone
moved in and really listened. I was speaking from the heart instead of
from phony façade of cleverly bad jokes or technical skills. “There was a quote
I once read about a beginning art student who asked an artist how he could
become a great artist. The artist answered that he couldn’t – but he could open
doors and expose him to what could inspire him! And I hope I’ve done that in
this class with all of you by showing you all the music video examples we’ve
looked at and discussed in detail. I hope this class was inspirational and
educational.” And that was it. That was the end of my Video I. (Odd how several
years ago I never knew exactly how to wrap up the final day of class. I
now know that how to summarize what we’ve done and how to let go.)
Artists and Dating
5-8-04: My biggest fear about dating is that it will
crush my creativity and my artistic lifestyle. That is why I am attracted to
artists. They will know about this crucial need. It’s just everything I’ve been
working for during my life. All the hard work and passion I’ve put into my art
and writing. I can’t allow it to be lost. Can I?
To Truly Help
People
5-10-04:
I feel that one of the biggest perks of teaching is that I get to truly help
people. For me, it brings me a sense of relief that I am doing something
positive with my existence. I know that sounds corny, but deep down, it means a
great deal to me when I look back at my life. It’s like doing spiritual mission
work, but I’m getting paid for it! It’s an even greater benefit when it’s all
in the computer arts and I can use my technical knowledge to assist others in
my artistic field.
What Is To Become of
Artists with Great Imagination and Creativity?
5-15-04:
On this 2004 graduation day, I painfully questioned if having a vivid
imagination and powerful creativity is worth anything in this corporate,
money-driven society. I think this is a question that has haunted me my entire
life. It especially devastated me during my late junior and senior years of
undergraduate school. I had realized I had so much talent, imagination, and
creativity to give. Yet there was no to
no audience or jobs for having an abundance of imagination and creativity.
At least, I knew of few jobs besides working at Disney or on Sesame Street. And
both companies were cutting back. And yet we keep on dreaming….
“There is freedom within, there is freedom without.
Try to catch the deluge in a paper cup. There's a battle ahead, many battles
are lost. But you'll never see the end of the road while you're traveling with
me. Hey now, hey now. Don't dream it's over. Hey now, hey now. When the world
comes in. They come, they come to build a wall between us. We know they won't
win.” –“Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House.
The Bad Fortune of My
"Success"
5-16-04: And my God, I have realized some cruel and
severe things about life. We live in a competitive world. I look at my friend
Jason Merkt and hear him goofing around with his girlfriend when he should be
concentrating on working on his demo reel. The main reason I’ve been able to
succeed in the area that I’m in is that I haven’t had a demanding personal life
to tie me down. Since I don’t date much, I’ve had plenty of time to concentrate
on my artwork and writing skills. Hence, I’ve become highly skilled in my chosen
field. My bad fortune with finding the right woman led me to excel in my
professional career. Looking back, I suppose it was best since I wouldn’t want
to marry until I was around 30 or so. All my closest friends who were once
single now have girlfriends. Now I’m the single lonely guy… “too busy with work
and art for a relationship”. I need to change that… and soon. I need to start
now.
Finding a Job in the
Arts
5-16-04: The more I think about it, the more I
realize I did the near impossible: I actually managed to get a job in the arts.
The greatest irony of this was that the very place was I went to get my
undergraduate education is where I ended up getting a full-time teaching job.
Then again, I did the same thing with getting my first teaching job at exactly
where I went to graduate school.
To the Pretty Girls
Who Have Passed Me By
5-16-04: To the pretty girls who have passed me by:
You may be out on a date with him, but I may be making some of the most
exciting, imaginative, emotional artwork ever created. What would you rather be
doing? Isn't being a real artist glamorous to you? Isn't pouring one's heart
and soul out into one's artwork like Vincent van Gogh, Kurt Cobain, John
Lennon, or Harvey Pekar mean anything to you? Or would you rather go for the
superficial studs who look good on the outside, but are paper-thin emotionally
and intellectually on the inside!? Who would you rather love? Dumb question, I
know. And then again, if I was loved, why would I make art? I suppose my
suffering and loneliness are my own special authentic ingredients for making
"real art".
Six Years Later… An
Artist and Teacher Born
5-19-04: Reflecting back to that summer of ’98, so
much has changed in six years. I’ve had my heart broken a few more times. But
besides the missteps with love, I’ve gained so much more in ways I never
contemplated. Back then, I barely had confidence as an artist since I barely
had a portfolio of computer artwork to back me up. I hardly knew computer
animation. Now I teach it. Back then,
I wasn’t sure what I was going to do after I graduated in Media Studies from
CCAD. Now I teach in the Media Studies department at CCAD. I now have five
years of professional academic teaching experience behind me. The one major big
worry of my life – "what was I going to do with myself when I grew
up?" – has finally been answered
to a certain extent. I have a passion for what I do. I like to teach and I love
expressing myself through my personal computer artwork. I’ve got it so easy
right now. It’s amazingly naïve that I’m in such misery!
Many Great Artists
Were Teachers
5-21-04: I find it fascinating how many
creative artists have started off as teachers: Sting, Martin Scorsese, and
George Lucas were all teachers before they became famous in their respective
fields. I like walking in their respective academic shoes. It's good company to
have!
I Fear My Own
Solitude
5-21-04: I fear my own solitude. I fear being alone.
I fear being an individual because it makes me too different to relate to the
majority of people around me. I hate my own ego as much as I love my precious
creativity. I’m frightened that I’ll grow old as a lonely, single unloved
artist. I want to date a woman with similar interests and passions as my own -
but where do I find her? I don’t want to become a solitary artist living by
himself and his books. I’m afraid that I’m not like most everyone else – and
that’s why I feel so desperate and
scared. I’m scared that I won’t be able to find another girl as good as the
last one…
…Then again isn’t that what I said about the last
girl I “fell in love” with? And was she really all that much fun? Maybe they all needed another five
years to grow up some more… and so do I. Maybe I need some more loneliness
juice to kick me out of being so shy and introspective. I need to get so sick
of loneliness that I force myself to change my life around. Why do I keep
badgering myself into emotional submission? Do
these emotions really matter? Just pick another girl off the tree of life,
Eric.
Existential
Terrorist-Fueled Dread in the Age of Surrealism
5-25-04: New
major nuclear/ chemical/ biological terrorist attack threats for the summer
sure make every worry and depression in my mind turn minimal rather quickly. My
job becomes meaningless. Who cares about computer art when insane people are
exploding nuclear weapons in nearby cities, killing thousands or even millions
of innocent people for meaningless political reasons?!? It’s enough to
reexamine your life and mind immediately. Nothing matters but the
moment. Take it. You’ll be dead because we live in uncertain, insane times.
This is the Age of Surrealism.
Swimming and/ or
Drowning
5-26-04: There’s
a raven’s at my door. I fear there’s an insanity brewing deep inside of me.
Swimming is one way of getting rid of the personal war within. I need an
underwater anti-depressant baptism. Exercise submerges the demons. My only
super power is my creativity. This titter-totter life has made me dizzy. This
middling existence… Why does it continue to trouble me so?
“They do their
thing, I'll do mine. Ooh baby, that's hard to change. I can't tell them how to
feel. Some get stoned, some get strange. But sooner or later it all gets real.
Walk on, walk on, walk on, walk on.” –“Walk On” by Neil Young.
My Artistic Affair
5-26-04: I’ve
been having an affair with my artwork for the past seven years! Can’t you see
I’m fucking my own artwork! It's my bride, my lover, my mistress, and my whore
all in one. And the sex has been mind-blowing! Such creative orgasms!!!
Yet am I really married
to my artwork? Does that mean that I’d move anywhere and that I have really
nothing that’s truly holding me down? I have my ambitions and dreams to
follow….
Artists Want More
Meaning Out of Our Existence
5-26-04:
I’ve been reading this book lately, “Van Gogh
Blues”, about how artists feel so much more depression than other people since
we want more meaning out of our existence than other people. That’s what puts
more weight and strain on our existence. That's the true price that we pay. And
for our misery and existential angst, some of us live as unappreciated starving
artists or become suicide cases. It's a harsh, terrible, yet beautiful life.
Like the replicant in "Blade Runner" stated, "I want more life,
father!!"
Love Yourself Again
5-29-04: Eric…
let go of your jealousy… your loneliness… your anger… your pain… your
disappointment… your bitterness…. They are not yours. Love yourself again. Heal
yourself. Forgive those who didn’t mean to hurt you. Forgive yourself for
hurting yourself. Save yourself and save others. They don’t deserve this pain
and you don’t need it either. Get rid of it. Relinquish it. Be reborn.
“You take back the pain you gave me. You take back
what doesn't belong to me. Take back the shame you gave me. Take back what
doesn't belong to me. And take back the rage you gave me. Take back the hatred
you gave me for me. Take back the anger that nearly killed me. Take back what
doesn't belong to me. And real love requires you. Give up those loves that you
think you love best. Love put you through the test. And only loyal love will
bring you happiness.” –“What Doesn't Belong To Me” by Sinead O’ Connor.
Just a Depressed Mass
of Atoms
5-29-04: I
think that everything that I feel and everything that I think is foolish. I’m
so neurotic and depressed and jealous and lost and confused and dream-possessed
and driven and crazed. I am a fool. I am just a depressed mass of atoms and I’m
just laughing at myself. I was so right and so wrong. Yep, that’s right. I*’m
ready to give it all up. Ohhhhhhh yeah!
We’ve All Got Our
Addictions
5-30-04: We’ve all got our addictions. One person shoots heroin for his
high to escape his problems. He eats lots of ice cream. Another couple fucks
all the time. I make art and dream constantly. Other go to church and pray all
day. Another reads books. They’re all forms of escapism. Less we forget,
dreaming is a form of suicide.
This “Life” Is a Lie!
5-30-04:
This “life” is a lie! I don’t see it as real. I don’t see any real point to
taking it seriously anymore when it involves so much perplexing pain. Women
lie. Children are the only ones worthy of truth. I can feel the urgency
building up inside me like an approaching hurricane ready to take out the
island continent Eric. I've got to seek some shelter.
Erase My Personality and Start All Over Again
5-31-04: I want to erase my personality and start all over again. I don’t like that
I’ve become such an individual that I can’t get a real girlfriend up to my
standards. I feel a need to start all over again. I need to renew myself. I
need a new start. I can’t keep living the way I have been. Solitude and
isolation is killing me slowly and driving me to madness. Loneliness is leading
me to insanity.
My Moment of
Existential Clarity
5-31-04: As I was swimming my laps in an emotional
rage at the condominium clubhouse swimming pool at a gorgeous evening on
Memorial Day all by my lonesome self, I realized that all life was a temporary
thing. My job. My life. My father’s life. My friends’ relationships with
their girlfriends and wives. The personal relationships of my students and how
they dissolve once they graduate and go off into the world. The universe we
exist in. This very moment. They’re all just in the passing. Some just
fade sooner than others. I felt myself being completely in the moment. I was
aware of being alive with the total awareness and existence of death. It
made me pause in the pool and rest by the side and stare into the luminous
clouds in the blue heavens above. I thought about Lou Reed’s song “Temporary
Thing”. Everything around me would come to an end… and I accepted it. It made
me realize how little time I had left to do with the life I had in me. I also
felt a calmness in me that I realized that I’ve lived my life wisely by
pursuing my dreams instead of doing nothing. It also made me realize the
opposite, which is that this was “no big deal”. We’re here for just a while.
Enjoy it while you can! There’s no time for depression. There’s no need for
negativity when you already know your end. So why worry? What an extraordinary
epiphany and feeling. It was existential euphoria.
“Get out, it's just a temporary thing ...”
-“Temporary Thing” by Lou Reed.
A Disease Called
Loneliness
6-3-04:
I suffer from a terrible disease called
loneliness. I’m on vacation right now without anything to do. It’s a living
hell. “Loneliness sucks,” as my friend Ryan put it last night. It literally
eats away at one's soul. I want to throw "myself" away. I want to
start over. I don’t want this life, body, or personality anymore. If I can’t
have love, what have I? I'm just a lonely shell of a man. But I'm also a
confident dreamer. I have nothing to brag about. I am only I in the end. A
human being made flesh and bone to return to dust.
How I’ve Grown as a Professional and as an Adult
6-4-04: By viewing through those old videos that I
made in the summer of 1999, I have been able to reflect on how much I’ve achieved
and matured, especially professionally since I was a graduate student.
Back then I had no valuable teaching
experience, a child-like girlfriend who was older than me, an efficiency
apartment, and just barely enough confidence with computer animation and
computer art to back up my BIG dreams. Looking back, I’ve gained so much. I’ve
built up a portfolio of work that I feel is strong, original, expressive,
challenging, and emotional. I’ve been a teacher for over four years now and I’m
comfortable in front of crowds. Moreover, I’m finally knowledgeable with
technology. I’m single, but at least I spent that time by myself making myself
wiser so that I know what I wanted from a woman. Thank God I didn’t settle for
the first girl who would have me. My social skills were also still drastically
in question. I’m calmer now around people than I ever used to be. Back then,
the future was so uncertain. I feel a bit more at ease in my own skin.
I've Done the Work
6-11-04: The big realization about my artwork that
I’ve been having lately is that I’ve already done the work! I just need to
print it, mount it, frame it, and put a price tag on it! That’s all. I repeat,
that’s all! The hard work is already done. There are artists who have only shot
a few good photos or painted a dozen or so good paintings. I’ve got hundreds,
possibly thousands of still digital works!!!
Where Do I Fit In,
God?
6-14-04: Where do I fit in, God? I’m a walking
goddamned contradiction, possibly doomed to be single for life. I’m a real artist in a corporate world. I
was raised Catholic, but I don’t go to church anymore. I think conceptually and
imaginatively all the time. I don’t like sports in a society that revels
football, basketball, and baseball. It's no wonder I'm a depressed artist that
doesn't fit in with this world.
Art Funding Is Essential for the Well-Being of Our Nation
6-16-04: Depression and routines are hounding us as a country. Yet the
arts have the ability to save us - even expand ourselves. Math and science
aren't just the most important things to learn. We need to utilize the creative
right side of the brain, not just the left. Don’t eliminate the budget for
music and art programs in high schools and colleges! They are what we as human
beings need the most - to find a way to express ourselves with our emotions and
imagination, rather than suppressing them. We don't need more plastic pop
music. We need real art with real genuine and real feelings. Who cares if all the artwork has already been made?
That's just a myth to block people from exploring their inner imaginations,
which are infinite. Finding your way
to express yourself builds confidence and strength in how one can communicate
and articulate oneself. Rather than shutting oneself off and not releasing your
emotions, expressing yourself and your emotions offers you a much greater
chance of stabilizing your mental state of being. Look at those two kids who
shot everyone in Columbine. If they had just learned a better way of expressing
their emotions rather than shooting people, there would have been less tragedy
and sorrow in this world. And yet everyone needs to learn how to be
self-expressive in some artistic way, whether it be through writing, painting,
ceramics, or music. They just need a little encouragement. And that takes some
financial support to the arts. Without it, people are led to believe that the
arts are something meaningless. And life just becomes that much more bland,
desensitized, and numb. We become drones rather than full-fledged human beings with a wide range of
abilities, capabilities, and sensitivities.
My Advantage Over My
Competitors
6-18-04: I may have an advantage over my competitors
since I’m a loner and a dreamer. I keep doing what I’m doing because I’m
passionate about it so much that I don’t care what other people think about it
or if people reject it repeatedly. I won’t give up until I’m dead and gone. Of
course, my disadvantage is having to
live with all this loneliness and all the depression and emotional baggage it
brings.
Things Are Working
Out
6-18-04: I’m having a GREAT summer because I’m doing
something DIFFERENT from what I’m used to doing. And I’m making three to
four times more money than I would as a teacher by working on this freelance
documentary project. All the artwork I’ve been doing as an artist and a teacher
has finally paid off for me. I’m living a real fantasy these days. I earned it
through all my struggles and hard work. And it was all about luck of chance
that got me this gig. My personality feels like it’s been boosted with
all-natural endorphins. For once, I’ve got a reason for feeling good.
I Need Peace of Mind
6-20-04: My
sister Lara confessed that she wasn’t “mad” with me – she was “sad” for me about the life I've living.
And I had to listen to her as her eyes welled up as she knew that I wasn’t
going to be her innocent “little brother” any longer. I was a man of my own
kind. Yes, I acknowledged that I need to keep in touch more. I've been slack in
that regard. But I told her fiercely that I am also being pulled in too many
places by too many things. I can’t give myself to my job, to my artwork, to my
writing, to my students, to my freelance work, to my dreams, to a personal
life, to my fantasies, to keeping up friendships, to my family… to everything!!! I’m dying here from being pulled in too many directions!!! I need peace
of mind. I won’t get it if I go over and visit with my sisters in their dull
domestic households that give me a panic attacks from a lack of creative surroundings.
I want more out of life! I need creative stimulation. That's just where I'm at
right now at this point in my life! Domestic households destroy and diminish
artistic minds. I’m all too sensitive of that. I'm still living out my dreams.
I don't want to give them up so quickly! At least, not yet.
I've Got to Keep
Working at What I'm Doing
6-20-04: Lately,
I’m making my dreams come true. I just landed my first big grant for creating a
documentary about artists in the Hocking Hills. So yes, my ego is rather big
and I do feel like my head is in the sky. I'm achieving a huge aspiration and
goal I've had for so many years. I’m finally making something of myself from
all the time I’ve sacrificed for my art. And it’s so euphoric. The funny thing
is I wouldn’t have been able to confront my sister Lara's spite towards me
head-on and defend myself the way I did if I was twenty-years-old or so. My
personality still hadn’t taken shape. And I simply didn't have many
accomplishments yet. But at age 27, I’m my own person now. I've grown and
matured with my artwork in ways I've never that imaginable years ago. I’m more
defined and clear of who I am – even if relatives don’t like it. I've got to
keep working at what I'm doing. Sure, I suffer from depression. But part of my
depression that I've had for most of my lifetime is that I’ve set unrealistic
expectations for myself. Yet that is also how I’ve succeeded in what I’ve done
as well. I’ve worked very hard. Now look at all that I've managed to get done.
Wasn't it worth it?!
What If My Family Had
an "Intervention" for Me?
What if my Homan family ever got together and had an
“intervention” for me to persuade me to become like one of them? That being an
introspective artist was too dangerous for me to continue living this way? To
show how much they “care” by enforcing their beliefs and their customs upon
me?! That they were too upset that I don't go to church anymore and have looked
away from our Christian background? Imagine how insane that would be. The scary
thing is I could imagine it happening. My family members are so conservative
and Catholic to the point of being suffocating. And that is why I can’t be
around them for too long. It suffocates me so. They can’t empathize or
understand that I’ve changed for the better,
for me, that I’m happier and
emotionally healthier than I ever was
in my life., And that it’s okay. I
can only wonder if homosexual teenagers had to go through hell from their less
than accepting families of who they turned out to be. What it comes down to is
blind discrimination and confidence in myself to continue on as who I am. What
they do not understand, they fear. And I fear them for I know we live in a
distorted, imperfect world of people who think they are trying to do good but are only causing harm. These are good people, but they’re
confused. They don't understand artistic, creative minds. They don't listen to
the music I listen to. To them, it's so alien and different. It scares them. It's got too much emotion in it. They
don’t know what they’re doing because they're afraid of feelings and dreams.
They're all too unstable and uncontrollable. I want to keep being an artist. I
want to be different because I grew up different. And I'm okay with being alone
sometimes because it's a more interesting path. And I'm making great artwork
along the way that is helping my career. So I really can't say I'm doing so
much harm to myself. The only harm I'm doing in not being so much like them. If
only they would see what it's like in my world. And I can defend myself. What
they don’t know is that I have the intelligence to do so.
“You’re right from your side, I’m right from
mine! We're both just too many mornings an' a thousand miles behind.” –“One
Too Many Mornings” by Bob Dylan.
My Final Conversation
with My Mother
6-20-04: Another
thing that immerged from last night’s confrontation/ argument with my sister
Lara was that my final conversation with mom was a similar subject matter of
what Lara was bringing up. I recall my mother being worried and nearly weeping
over the phone that I wasn’t communicating enough to her anymore. She felt I
was letting go. And I believe I said something truly hurtful that she didn’t
have anything interesting to say, and that was why I wasn’t talking back with
her when she called. (But keep in mind that she called when I was deeply
involved in watching the devastating, apocalyptic finale of “Seven”. So let’s
just say I wasn’t in a talkative, social mood, especially if you’ve experienced
watching “Seven” before.) That last night I talked to mom was October 10, 1996.
It hurts that our last conversation wasn’t on the best terms, but I know that
she knew that I loved her.
We're Different in
Our Own Special Ways
6-20-04: What’s important about this memory is that the seeds
of my “changing” and becoming more artistic had been in effect for years
beforehand. I didn’t stop going to church after mom died. I had stopped for a
while when I first arrived at CCAD in 1995. I had the freedom to make up my
mind that the Catholic mass didn’t hold my attention or appeal to me. Lara has
the impression that she was “responsible” for my “not turning out right”. In
that regard, she’s delusional and that’s her problem. I am the only one in
control of how I turned out. To say someone isn't "right" because
they don't go to church anymore is utterly despicable, elitist, and awfully
wrong-headed. You can never expect your own family members to be just like you. It's
better that we're diverse and different. We found ourselves in our own special
way.
Censor Ourselves From
the Insanity
6-22-04: As a sensitive person, I do believe we
should censor ourselves from how much insanity we take in from this crazy world
we live in. There’s only so much crazy, bad news we can take of reading top
news stories of “Militants
in Iraq Kill S. Korean Hostage” and “Ben Affleck wins poker tourney, $356K”. Then next to it is an
ad for buying beauty products. It’s too
ridiculous to fathom.
WE ARE ALL HUMAN
6-25-04: NO ONE IS A PERFECT HUMAN BEING – NO MATTER
HOW HARD THEY TRY. WE ALL SIN. WE ARE ALL HUMAN. WE FAIL SOMETIMES. WE CANNOT
HAVE SUCH HIGH EXPECTATIONS FOR OURSELVES… OR ELSE WE WILL ALWAYS FEEL MISERY
AND DEFEAT.
Has My Art Ruined My
Private Life?
6-26-04: I’ve built my whole life on my artwork -
this self-centered dedication. And I feel that’s it’s ruined my private life
because I have none. Yes, I have friends and that is what keeps my sanity
hanging on. My artwork is what I’m passionate about. But lately, it hasn’t been
enough. I’ve even fallen out of love with movies, music, masturbation, books,
and comics. I spend too much of my life submerged in these fantasy worlds
anyways. I can't keep going on like this. I need to get out and be around real
people. I can't keep focusing constantly on
just my artwork. It's suffocating me from being part of the real world. Too
much work and no place is killing me slowly and softly over time. I've got to
wake up and do something about the course my life is heading. I've got to
accept that I've got a problem and need to act. I have to. Being a
"great" artist is such a trap. You have to work your ass off. Yet
getting to the point of "greatness" can nearly kill you. Just ask
Vincent van Gogh, Kurt Cobain, and Janis Joplin.
So Why Do It? Why
Make Art?
6-27-04: I drove down to
A Crisis of Choosing Art Over People
6-30-04: Too much of this solitude is truly killing me inside. I’m too much of a
creativity-driven loner to exist in this society and remain sane. My moods are
erratically manic depressive. I worry for myself. I’m not sure how much longer
I can hang on like this. I love art more than I love people… and that troubles
me greatly. I've got to choose. I've got to choose. Win or lose, time to
choose. Yet I know the answer is obvious. I have to get out more. I cannot
continue this way of life. Solitude is death. Solitude is a slow suicide. It
eats at you… sucks the life from your soul until there is nothing left by an
empty, desperate shell.
My Sister Lara's
Letter to Me
Dear Eric, I am terribly sorry that I hurt your feelings last
week. That was certainly not my intent. And I am sorry that you felt I was
being condescending. I wanted to let you know that I miss you, not hurt you. I
love you very much. If I didn't, it wouldn't bother me at all that I don't see
you much. I know I have to accept that you need to do what you need to do.
You're right, I don't understand the world you live in, but your writings
(which, by the way, are amazingly articulate and well-written) gave me more
insight.
I think we had
to have the conversation we had, as hard as it was for both of us. I needed to
know your inner turmoil about family and that it's something you've thought
about and isn't an easy thing for you. I
feared that you just didn't care. I needed to hear that you do care. I so
appreciate you saying that you still loved me when I parted. Eric, I do know
that art and CCAD have been life-giving for you and I am truly happy that you
have found a path in life that gives you such joy and acceptance. You're right,
too, in that Mom would be so proud of you. I can imagine her smiling down at
you with pride. I understand your feeling of anger at not getting the
recognition, respect, and support you need for what you put into your job from
society and your family because many times I feel the same way. As we both have
passion and put such heart into our jobs, others rarely recognize this,
especially when we live alone and no one sees how much energy we put into our
work. In Ordinary People, you wrote : "A tragedy has happened in their
lives
with the death of their oldest son. They don't want to fight. And because they
don't, they continue suffering. They love each other so much that they want to
remain safe within their illusions of themselves and who they used to be.
They've changed and they are not dealing with it... " and: "She's not
able to love you enough"... Art as psychiatry - Psychiatry art... "I
think I came here to talk about myself. Let me get it off my chest." Maybe
we all need to. Some people might say that "no one in their right mind
would talk that way", but it is healthy and necessary! Can't they see
that?... " Boy, what great passages. I think you and I may be more alike
than we realize in that we both seem to be incredibly sensitive, feel things
deeply, and carry some pain. In a way, I think you've dealt with Mom's death,
relationships, etc. far better than I have because you've had your art to use
as expression.
Thanks for listening and thanks for talking last week. I have a
better understanding and more respect for you now that I know where you're
coming from. Love, Lara
Thanks for
understanding. And I do love you. See you soon, Eric
What Will Become of
Me and You, Loneliness?
7-1-04: I’ve been praying to God in total, utter desperation for some kind of help with my personal life. I’m
sick to death with this loneliness that’s been haunting me for so many years. I
feel hopelessness. Am I doomed to be single and pathetic for life? I’m afraid
of turning into a middle-aged artist loner type. I’m sick of who I am. That’s
why I’ve resorted to praying. That’s
how depressed and scarred I’ve become! I haven't really prayed to God in years.
And yet, through all this introspection and grief, I have to ask a simple
truthful question: has loneliness become my artistic muse? Is that the magic
potion to keep the fire alight within my angry, tormented soul? Whatever will
become of me when I find a wife/ girlfriend? I pray that I'll find a balance.
It's the best I can hope and pray for. I'm fully ready now to compromise my art
life for a real personal life. I'm ready.
7-4-04: “Have you ever thought about
it? The moment those kids stop playing those games, they start to grow old.
Playing ‘Kick the Can’ keeps them young”… “Maybe the fountain of youth isn’t a
fountain at all. Maybe it’s a way of thinking”… “What’s the matter with you?! Where’s your life!?”…
“He’d say that being awake is dangerous and silly. He’d say we’re crazy. Well
maybe you have to be a little crazy in order to make the magic work!!”…
“Playing children’s games is the secret to youth!”… “You’re afraid! You’re
afraid of a new idea. You’re afraid to look silly!”… “There’s magic in
the world. I know there is.” –Dialogue from the old “Twilight Zone” episode, “Kick the Can”.
I hate when people insist that people need
to “grow up”. It all depends in what way. Growing up doesn’t mean losing
one’s sense of wonder or imagination for the world. Growing up doesn’t mean
having to stop playing and experimenting. Growing up doesn’t mean to cease
feeling and being innocent and naïve, like the way a child sees the world.
Don’t you yearn to feel how it feels to be young again and see everything new
and exciting? Growing up doesn’t mean to stop dreaming and drink beer! Smoking
shouldn’t be a substitute for laughing! Making love shouldn’t just be a
substitute for not having recess anymore! It is the death of creativity if one
believes in such advice. We need to play again in order to dream again for life
to feel magical. This is one of the great inner conflicts and battles that all
real artists and caring human beings have to deal with throughout their
lives and careers. You have to be a realist while remaining a dreamer. Its
society-imposed schizophrenia that tries so hard to break the dreamers by
forcing them to conform, or else go insane.
Controlling Your Light
“The
light that burns twice as bright burns half as long. And you have burned so
very brightly”... “Revel in your time!” –Dialogue from Blade Runner: The
Director’s Cut from the creator to his replicant android creations that
only have four-year life spans.
“It's better to burn out than to fade away. My my,
hey hey.” –“My My, Hey Hey (Out Of The Blue)” by Neil
Young and Crazy Horse.
7-7-04: That line from the Neil Young song was also quoted cryptically in
Kurt Cobain’s suicide note as well. He was aged 27 when he died and became a
member of a tragic rock club of dead rock singers who died too young at the age
of 27 (Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin). At the age of 27, I have contemplated how
I’ve lived my life and if I’ve lived too deeply in my artwork. Have I lane
waste of myself emotionally only to produce an extraordinary amount of great
artwork and writing in my wake? And yet I am keenly aware that if I stay on
this course I may end up in that same club of dead rock stars or dead tragic
artists (Vincent van Gogh). I have to find balance to my life and my art. I can
no longer live as “brightly” within my artwork while paying the price with
terrible loneliness and isolation. I have to find a well-rounded lifestyle even
if it means getting married. I can spend a certain amount of hours towards my
work and dedicate a certain number of hours towards family and a personal life
as well. It’s that simple. I’ve read other artist/ movie director biographies
(Spielberg) of how they made the transition and I know it’s possible. You can
be creative and have a marriage/ family in the same life. It’s not impossible.
8-3-04: If I’ve got anything on my
side, it’s that I’ve survived a lot of shit in my life and it’s made me
stronger and tougher than most people. I’ve survived migraines. I’ve survived
bullies. I’ve survived my father. I’ve survived high school. I’ve survived
depression. I’ve survived broken hearts. I’ve survived panic attacks. I’ve
survived the sudden violent death of my mother. I’ve survived watching bad
movies. I’ve survived diarrhea. I’ve survived food poisoning. I’ve survived bee
stings. I’ve survived. I’m ready for emergencies. I’m ready for wars. I’m ready
for the apocalypse. I’m ready for it now.
8-9-04: I have
always feared the use of drugs on our society to control how we think and feel
for ourselves. George Lucas had a groundbreaking feature-film debut with 1971’s
“THX-1138” about a Totalitarian society in the future where everyone is
required to take anti-depressant medication and other personality/
stress-control drugs. If you don’t, these silver-masked police officers beat
you and ship you off to an all-white prison with the other outcasts, gays,
misfits, faulty people, and undesirables. Drugs are used to keep law and order
so society can be peaceful and calm (which is all “wonderful” and “nice”), but
what is lost is one’s freedom to think and choose what is right and wrong!
These are fundamental issues each human being must be able to use in resources
in their existence. That is part of their reason for being. That is their independence.
I have also been critical of how people perceived
artists and outcasts and how they’ve tried desperately and cruelly to change
them in any way possible without thinking properly with an open mind. Case in
point, the great
“Don’t you know? They’re gonna kill… kill your sons.” –“Kill Your Sons” by
Lou Reed.
“All your two-bit psychiatrists are giving you
electro shock. They say, they let you live at home, with mom and dad instead of
mental hospital… Mom informed me on the phone she didn't know what to do about
dad. Took an axe and broke the table - aren't you glad you're married? And
sister, she got married on the island and her husband takes the train. He's big
and he's fat and he doesn't even have a brain. They're gonna kill your sons.
Don't you know, they're gonna kill, kill your sons. Don't you know, they're
gonna kill, kill your sons…Until they run run run run run run run run away.”
-“Kill Your Sons” by Lou Reed.
Teaching with
Confidence
9-2-04: There
are times when I am teaching a class, specifically my Video I classes, where I
know that I am in complete command of my knowledge and craft. I now know
exactly what to say to my students and how to inspire them as well as educate
them. I am confident in ways that I never was while growing up. That is how
much I’ve changed as an adult human being. Movies and movie knowledge are my
arsenal of educating these young minds. I’ll show the awesome he helicopter
attack sequence in “Apocalypse Now” to blow their young student minds and
imaginations away!
Being Professional
vs. Being Eccentric
10-19-04: There
are some days while teaching a class of thirteen ADD students where things
aren’t that much fun. Teaching takes a lot out of me. Thank God I’ve got
several years of experience behind me. But it’s also hell to have the computers
not do what I think they’re going to do. I’m helpless and humbled by it all…
and it wares me down greatly. I have to rush to figure the problems out with an
easily impatient class.
Then there are times when I’ll make a completely
eccentric comment aloud in front of some students in the hallway that will
weird even them out. “Wow. That was totally random,” one exclaimed today while
looking nervously and confused to his friends. I suddenly realize that I’m not
acting like a professional anymore and I’ve turned into my “weirdo” persona
that mainly alienates people. And I know it’s bad when artists feel alienated.
It hurts me enough to “sober up” and mature to cut out my neurotic crazy side
and wise up to acting like a “real teacher type”. My “weirding people out”
provokes an emotional reaction in me to mature.
The humiliating experience of being rejected forces me to strip the façade and
be raw to people around me. No more of this clowning around.
Yet
I feel that this eccentricity in me is part of the kid in me that has been long
repressed and is dying to get out again to play… and breath! It’s the most
special and unique part of my personality that I have to keep under lock and
key or else people will find me to be “odd” and “unusual” for acting quirky,
different, and alive. In order to be professional and “normal”, I have
to act like everyone else – like a mature adult. But it just kills that
wonderful part of me, of you, and everyone else you know who has to be normal.
It’s like living a slow death when you lose your individuality, creativity, and
originality that you once had as a young child. You trade it in for
consumerism, sex, food, and television – all seductive forms of The Great
American Escapism.
An Artist Gaining a
Personal Life
11-14-04: I have to stop a moment and reflect
on how much my personal life has changed. It was only back in June when I hit
rock-bottom self-esteem and realized fully that I needed to completely rethink
how I was living my life. I couldn’t go on living the whole “suffering artist”
lifestyle without killing myself. It wasn’t going to work out. The loneliness
and despair wasn’t worth living through anymore. It had gotten old. Yes, I’d created what I felt was
some terrific artwork pieces. Yet without any outside recognition or funding,
who truly cares? I cared about the artwork I’d made, but being an admirer of
one for my art only made me lonelier and more isolated. So I had to change. I
couldn’t take staying home alone so often. I couldn’t date my imagination. I
needed a real personal life rather than a brilliant fantasy life. Thankfully
and blessedly, I found [my then girlfriend] in my life. It was a friendship
with her that altered my way of life for the better. And in doing so, I had to
compromise one of the things that I feel makes me the most happy: creatively
expressing myself. Yet, I worked hard on finding a balance between the two. I
was willing to make it work between she and I. And so we’re still
together because we waited it out and communicated and spent time with one
another. “Love you.”
Don’t Compare
Yourself to Those Around You
11-15-04: Adulthood
means turning insecure about one’s place, position, and stature in life to the
point where you become delusional and miserable. You compare yourself to those
closest to you and turn to jealousy as a natural weapon of defense. It doesn’t
suit you to help you any. It’s merely a phony invisible shield from one’s own
misgivings and happiness. You look to see who is fat, who is bald, who is
different, and who is crazy just to find a way to make yourself feel better
about who you are. You compare yourself to your neighbors, family members, and
friends in hope of seeing how you are doing. Ambition swings the sword and cuts
off relationships around you by dismantling the balance between you and your
peers. Lust for more money, fame, recognition, and prestige haunt you until
depression becomes your soul mate. It’s not worth having it as a so-called
friend. It never is. You’ve got to stop being insecure and start feeling happy
with how you are. Do the best you can without comparing yourself to those
around you. It will only lead to emotional self-destruction. And that leads to
feeling down for every morning, afternoon, evening, and night of your
life. You don’t want to have grown up to become lost in your dreams of success.
You have to control yourself better and learn to be happy with who you are and
what you’ve managed to do – which is survive.
The
Quest to Be Creative and Be in a Relationship at the Same Time
12-5-04: This
question has left me conflicted throughout my twenties as I grew into being a
creative artist. I knew quite clearly that in order to be the most creative as
possible, I’d need to be in an environment of complete freedom, away from
outside distractions and responsibilities. What it amounted it, really, was
solitude. Yet I quickly realized that with all this “free” time and clear air
to think, I would also get very lonesome. But here comes the paradox: if I were
to get involved in a relationship and commit myself to it, I’d lose my freedom
to the responsibilities of being normal… being a good boyfriend… being a
husband. I’d have to free up my free time to the one I loved.
And
so I did “surrender” myself to being involved in a relationship. That was part of
the sacrifice and compromise to being in love. Yet I knew that being in love
with the right woman was worth all those challenges because I knew she was
saving my soul from growing lost from loneliness and despair. As I remained in
a relationship, I saw my output diminished and my creative thoughts become
fewer and fewer. I was becoming “domesticated”. Nevertheless, I still retained
my creative spark. I found a balance in order to spend a certain amount of time
working on my artwork and writing, and another amount of time to my significant
other. Though I did change in order to make my relationship last, I still
maintained who I was innately inside. And I knew I had to change because art
alone would not save me. It was never the companion who was going to make me
feel extra complete at the end of the day. I realized I had to be less selfish
if I was going to survive. And if that meant giving up some creative energy
(and therefore some brilliant and wonderful art pieces as well), so be it. It
is a far better alternative than loneliness.
Do I Have to Conform?
12-18-04: Life
scares me sometimes, or that is, unnerves me with how conformist and
conservative it can be. I am a bit frightened when I go to a family holiday
party and I can’t engage myself in conversation because I don’t think or talk
about sports, work, or news. I talk about ideas, emotions, art, movies,
music, and universes. These are the things that stimulate my mind. No one
wants to be a creativity explorer but me. And it kills me inside. I strive for
life to have a point to feeling this way. Do I have to conform to ordinariness
in order to fit in and be happy? But does that also mean I have to like football
and bad TV shows that dumb down the brain? It scares me… terrifies me into a
near panic attack.
EVERYTHING IS CREATIVE
1-16-05: You will never be left uninspired if you just
follow these simple proclamations and revelations: “EVERY DAY’S ACTIONS ARE
CREATIVE. EVERY ACTION CONTAINS ARTISTRY. EVERY BIT OF DIALOGUE OR CONVERSATION
CONTAINS BRILLIANCE. EVEN GOING TO THE BATHROOM IS A MASTERPIECE. BELIEVE IN
THIS AND YOU WON’T EVER FEEL BURNT OUT AGAIN. EVERYTHING HAS POTENTIAL. IT IS
JUST ILLUSION THAT IT IS NOT.”
Who I’ve Become
1-20-05: There
are times where I see life – my existence – from a state of confusion and
ongoing irrationality. We as human beings keep breathing, dreaming, and growing
old on this rock called Earth. And I often, every day in fact, find myself in a
crisis of what I should be doing with my time with this life. I have found a
job – as a college instructor – and as a creative artist. I am an idea taker. I
have this gift of coming up with creative concepts and I compulsively record
them in a daily journal. I wonder what I should do with all these ideas and how
they all form together. I mean, what’s the point to all this creativity if I
don’t have a true use for it? I suppose there is some artistic gain in getting
the ideas recorded down, but where is the commercial gain to my efforts and
energy? Once again, I digress into desperation and bewilderment. But I do see
things very clearly. I am writing my daily autobiography in the form of words,
movies, and animations. I am a self-expressive artist. I am a creative human being.
I am a communicator of emotions and ideas. There is no need to panic over this
fact. It’s all right. It’s all right. I know what I’m doing. I’m
existing. And I have found peace in that.
An Unhappy Creative
Life vs. a Happy
2-27-05: My
life is changing for the better and the worse. When one thing goes ever so
right, the other goes in the other direction. In order to have a stable
romantic and social life, I have to be somewhat normal. And because of this, I
have to partake in normal, bland activities. And from these distractions, I am
creatively hampered and distracted. I’m becoming increasingly domesticated and
dumbed down. I am becoming normalized. My quirky individuality is
shrinking more and more as I get older and more mature. I am less enthused
about doing creative personal work when I know it will probably not get
a wide audience for it. It’s increasingly difficult to dedicate myself to my
own artwork when it starts to interfere with showing affection to my
girlfriend. In the end conflict, I’m sharing my attention and emotions. And
both are very important to me. Yet making personal art doesn’t have an end
reward. So I feel increasingly amiss within my creative work. Yet that gaping
hole that once was my personal love life is finally filled. My life as a
paradox. I’m more creative when I’m single; I’m less creative when I’m in love.
It’s rather true that being unhappy and having lots of time help inspire art.
Yet it’s a matter what gets my creative juices flowing, which makes me feel the
most alive. Without my creativity, I feel like I am nothing… an ordinary
man with little significance. I know this may seem like I am granting myself
“elitist” undertones, but I am a highly creative human being. I can’t
necessarily change that without sacrificing my soul and personality in the
process. Some might conclude that it is my personality that drowns me from
being more sociable. It’s an endless cycle of dreams vs. reality.
Finding Peace: How to
Be Happy as an Artist
2-28-05: I woke
up with a fairly clear head and mind of what life is all about: finding
happiness. And I’ve been struggling with that a lot for years because of my
ambitions and demons keep me down. I want the world to love me and respect me
and know me, but I’ll never truly get it no matter how hard I try. I’m killing
myself with my dreams. What I need is what I’ve already got: a woman to love me
back, a family, friends, a home, and a job. It’s all very simple. I’ve been
trying to do too much with my life. And I’ve been left lost, lonely, and
confused from it. I don’t need to be that way anymore. Living is about finding
peace through your existence – not misery and suffering, even if great art
comes out of those emotions. I can make my own life a happy art experience if I
want to. It’s that simple of a realization with a clear head.
An Artist without an
Audience
3-29-05: There’s a subtle failure going on in my
life. I want to make the most of my life, but I get tired on my days from the
daily defeat that my art work doesn’t appeal to a large enough audience and it
gets rejected. So why spend months of my life working on art that won’t change
the world, let alone make me money or gain me some recognition? I’m an artist
without an audience. I’m alone in my vast imagination, unable to make a
difference. And right when inspiration hits me anew, I am finding less and less
willpower to go through with the idea and project because I get distracted with
school work, freelance work, and having a social life with a girlfriend/
friends/ family. Or I just get tired and fatigued and just want to rest… relax.
I don’t have the energy or urgency I once had to keep me going. I feel the most
alive when I’m eccentric, neurotic, and creative. If I can’t be this way, I
feel cut off with my humanity. We’re not meant to be so “professional”,
“conservative”, and “adult”. It drains me dry to fit in all the time. I thrive
on being different because I am
different. I must be alive to live.
It scares me and eventually numbs to be like everyone else in order to maintain
a steady income. It’s tragically devastating.
And the irony of it all is that I am “happier” now
that I’ve been in years with a steady girlfriend that could lead to a suitable
marriage.
Living On as an
Artist
4-3-05: I’m hitting a stage in my late 20’s where I
foresee that I probably won’t be spectacular and recognized for my creative
vision. I may just fade away. But at least I have loads of artwork to leave
behind for someone to rediscover after I’m dead and gone. I know that if you’re
a true artist, you will not be known during your time.
4-30-05: There
is an extraordinary conflict going on in one’s adult life. There is the pursuit
of being great, and the pursuit of being happy and normal. Greatness usually
excludes the later because you have to excel from being average and ordinary.
You can live a life where you are like everybody else and be happy being that
way. You fit in to the conventions around you. Yet if you want to be something
more and be truly great, you have to give up or leave behind the things that
hold you back. You have to reject conformity at the cost of finding one’s own
personal freedom. And this is at the cost of one’s own personal happiness.
The Power Trip
5-19-05: I drove over to Borders to read Premiere and Entertainment Weekly because I was getting restless at dad's place.
As I looked around the store, I felt myself envious of other artists and
writers who have been published, like Dave McKean and Neil Gaiman. Premiere had an issue of the 50 most
powerful people in
Art Isn’t About Money
5-22-05: The thing is… making art isn’t about making
money. It’s never been that way for me. I did it because I purely enjoyed it or it was cathartically healing me in some sort
of way. Creating art isn’t about commerce because in its heart there is a
higher level of self-expression that elevates it from being something cheap and
formulaic. There’s a creative zeal to it that far beyond mere dollars. The
paradox of the situation is in the fact that artists still need to survive and
make a living. So no support or funding means no art. Artists have to find an
alternative way of supporting themselves. And that means either being able to
sell your art regularly (very rare), selling out your artwork (become a graphic
designer), giving up on art and doing something else (military), or doing art
on the side of doing another job (teaching). But what arts comes down to is
about the enjoyment and pleasure in doing it. And that is something you can’t
put a price tag on.
Being Driven Isn’t
Enough
6-9-05: I
slowly came to my realization that I wasn’t going to be famous enough to even
get my artwork displayed. I may be driven, but that’s not enough. I was
bedeviled by the desperate situation that I may have spent years of my life
making art when I could have been elsewhere. Have I wasted my time and life?
You still have to have the connections to get your work shown and revealed to
the world. Have I wasted myself? Bleed my emotions dry with no reward? (Or you
can make a fake documentary on a “found” artist who left behind a huge amount
of artwork after he died.)
Artists Hold Nothing
Back
6-9-05: I think
the most interesting aspect that hasn’t been fully explored in real life is
what really goes on with certain people who are considered “weird” or
“eccentric”. Artists, usually. What disturbing, dirty thoughts they have
– but in a way they’re not at all since they are always kept completely within
oneself and censored from our conservative society. We censor ourselves to
appear sane, normal human beings so we can fit in. But inside we’re all a
little warped and bizarre. Only R. Crumb has been ever fully revealed myself
for the wildly perverse and self-expressive artist he is. My own life is quite
a complex mess of phobias and fetishes, dreams and despair. I’m all over the
place as a real human being. I could make a documentary just on myself and how
strange it is in an uncensored fashion. Holding nothing back. I think I’d be
able to do so because there’s a point of total blankness when you realize there
is nothing left to lose when you know you’re going to die. It’s that inner
desperation that hounds you no matter how old or well you are in health.
It’s Just Not That
Simple
6-19-05: I can’t guarantee you success in this life… no matter
how good you are or if you try your best. I don’t have that power. I can’t lie
to you and tell you to follow your heart and you’ll be happy. It’s just not
that simple. I want to be a realistic teacher than a fantasy writer. And these
are the words from a die-hard dreamer.
Where Do My Ideas or
Any Ideas Come From?
6-19-05:
Well, I am a visual artist. I find my
inspiration from looking at visual images and sounds (TV, movies, comics, CDs)
and use my “beefed-up” imagination to extend the visuals with my own
perceptions.
For example, I’ll be reading a comic book, Legends of the Dark Knight #18, and read
a panel where two people jump out of a plane at 10,000 feet as their plane
explodes from a heat-guided missile behind them. Then I recall watching a video
of my girlfriend skydiving when she was still a high school student while
attached to a professional skydiver so that they will land safely. Then my own
imagination comes into play… and play it
does! (And I apologize if this following imagination is too perverse for
some!) The new idea arrives of going skydiving with my girlfriend from 10,000
feet while having “sky-sex” with her as we free-fall to earth. What a massive
sensation! And what if we had that professional skydiver attached to us to make
sure we landed safely as we had intercourse? It would be a “skydive three-way”
of sorts. So in the end, the idea arrived by adding a visual image and a memory
while being multiplied by my own personally unique perversity, creative
imagination, and drive for originality. This is the formula for new ideas –
arriving from them from other ideas and images.
6-27-05:
It’s
pretty sad and pathetically cynical when your own art teachers tell their
students that nothing new has been made in decades and all the good ideas have
been done. That’s totally completely true with commercial movie-making. Yet
that’s ridiculous when it is applied to experimental or independent
movie-making. The goal of commercial work is to make money and maybe win
awards. Experimental work discards all of this and just goes wherever it wants
to go. And this creates new areas for where art can go. New ideas and avenues
are created. They are just not as immediately assessable to a wide audience.
And for this experimental work is left mostly unnoticed while the cynics keep
talking about how there are no new ideas.
Columbus Isn't So Bad
After All
7-28-05: I’ve
met a great many transitory individuals for the past few days who have lived
and visited all over the world. There is a tempting allure to do the same. To
live life to its fullest and make it happen wherever in the world you let
yourself find yourself. But in the end with all realistic things considered, I
realized I was quite happy where I was at. Now that I’ve heard firsthand from
Fear of Having
Children
8-22-05: Mainly
the only time I ever get any artwork or creative work done is when I’m bored
and have lots of free time to myself where I need to keep my mind occupied.
This is why I fear having children so much. They’d dry up all that extra time –
those precious moments of quiet and daydreaming where I feel drawn to making
art or writing. If I had too busy of a life, I’d have little time to release
those internal visions, emotions, and fantasies. They’d just remain there in my
head.
1-8-06: “Once you’ve got something in your system, you can’t
get rid of it!” This is what was stated by Willow, a powerful witch character
in the TV show “Buffy, the Vampire Slayer”, who has gone cold turkey of not
performing any additional spells because it was taking over her life and
harming her loved ones around her. It centered on having an addiction to the
power and dangerous exhilaration of magic. “If you could be plain old
The Curse (or Gift)
of Being Ambitious and Depressed
1-10-06:
The reality of knowing that I was still just a
teacher at an art school in the center of the Midwest ends up being a real
bummer for the guy who once dreamed (and still dreams) of such loftier goals.
From one point of view, this might sound absolutely wonderful, but there’s
another part of me that wants more. Maybe that’s the curse (or gift) of
being ambitious. It can bring on such misery as well as success. It’s a real
reason to keep working on one’s work when you’re hurting inside so dearly when you
see your colleagues doing so well… quite a motivating competitive drive.
But I know in the back of my subconscious mind that I
am merely using and toying around with my depression to provoke me to make art
and express myself creatively. In the same way that my worried mind belabors me
with despair and frustration, I am reversing it into some extraordinary by
allowing myself to throw myself into my artwork. And then I’ll use some
hypnotically good music to put me in a trance-like state that’ll keep me working
for hours on end. So I’m really recycling depression into something useful,
even though I’m feeling “useless”. Emptiness is godliness. The despair is
euphoric and tranquil.
2-1-06:
There’s an anxiousness boiling under my skin
lately. It’s the eerie feeling that my creativity has been lax as of late. I’ve
been more immersed in books, comics, and DVDs than with making new art. That’s
not entirely true, with the recent completion of “Epic Autumn”, but I’m feeling
less and less interested in doing art. I’m starting to realize its because it
reminds of work since its with using the same software I teach with. I’m
finding myself in my spare time wanting to withdraw from the computer. I want a
private life and a social life rather than losing myself again and again in
creativity and confessional art making. I was reading some work by R. Crumb
this morning and remembered how much I empathized with him and his
autobiographical stories of self-loathing and self-obsession. But the
present-day me doesn’t really want those things. I’m long for the past, but
still feel like I want to move on. The dreamer me is living more with the
realities of day-to-day life. Six years ago, I used to spent sixteen hours a
day doing art. Three years ago, I spent four hours a day. Last year it was two
hours. Lately, it’s been a half an hour to an hour. Maybe I am slowing down.
Maybe I am having more responsibilities as I “grow up”. The more commercial
work I do, the less time I have for creative work. Years ago when I was single
and lonely, I always fell back on doing artwork to keep me company my mind
occupied, as well as to express my lost, desperate state of mind. I’ve been
dealing with my depression better than I have in years. I still “slip” some
days, but I struggle on as a survivor. I’m mellowing, I realize that. I’m happy
about it, but still upset that I’m losing my sense of urgency. The so-called
creative “best years of my life” in making art may be behind me. Or maybe on a
different stage in my creative career. But at least I have a wealth of art
pieces and writing to fall back on when I need an idea or inspiration to work
from. Now I just need the lack of distractions and the focus to make something
work again.
And
that the other issue with making art as an adult: there’s no reason for it
anymore but to serve oneself. I’ve worked for years now making art that has
gotten no audience outside of my tiny group of friends and family. And that
eventually hurts my spirit. I get no money for what I do. Years ago, I made art
because I needed to. I had something inside that I needed to get out and
I did. It was an almost suicidal outpouring of ideas, like I slit my creative
wrists (figuratively speaking) and out can art rather than blood. I was younger
then and dreamed so much more for myself. I knew the risks that my work may
never find a wide audience and kept on working away. I lived the “van Gogh”
lifestyle: in constant despair while making art for art’s sake. It was bliss
and it was hell. I had my music collection to keep my flying for all those
years. I was elevated on the beats of brilliant bands and soaring voices. And
it worked so well for so many years. I made great art. But it still wasn’t
commercial enough for others. I made it by myself for myself… with the hope
that open-minded others would also enjoy it just as much. Time will tell if my
work will be discovered and seen. Being the desperate artist, I knew that I’d
probably never find fame or fortune while I was still alive. I just wouldn’t.
That would be my Vincent van Gogh legacy I carried and cared for. But I loved
that van Gogh passion so dearly and let it inspire me on, working day after day
after day. I was one of the few who kept making art after graduating from an
education institution in art. Most of my peers dabbled in the stuff after art
school, but pretty much left all creative work behind them as they ventured off
into commercial jobs. They “sold out” in order to survive. I managed to carry
on doing creative work by becoming a teacher. But now that I’m nearly 30, I
find my wheels finally slowing down. Friends, family, and maintaining a
personal life have taken more prominence than they had when I was 23. I worked
like the devil when I was in my early twenties because deep inside I knew I
wouldn’t have this type of energy forever. Sure enough, I was dead right.
“Sadly”, I sacrificed my relationships with family and friends in order to work
on that dream of expressing what I was passionate about: computer art and
writing. But deep inside, I knew I had to in order to get ahead and do the work
I knew I had to do. Even if it meant the work might not get recognized or seen
for years to come.
2-4-06: I am an
artist, which means I am not supposed to be realistic with the ways of the
world. In consequence, I sometimes make brilliant, unconventional, creatively
ecstatic art that few others dare to dream up or have the passion or gumption
to create. It also means that when reality hits, I get hit the hardest. I can
make as much great art as I want that I feel is worthwhile and meaningful to
myself, but that doesn’t make it accepted in the fine art work nor in the
commercial entertainment world. Reality tells me that I am lost in the in between
void of not being able to be sold or gain attention in either arena. I can’t
really survive if I don’t make a name for myself as an artist. I spent so much
time working on my artwork, yet I’ve gotten little to no recognition back for
it. I’ve got my inspiration with music, movies, comics, and books. Yet I still
can’t jumpstart a career as an artist. So I’ve had to “settle” for being a
teaching in 3-D computer animation and video classes. It’s good and all, but my
big dream is to be recognized for my artwork. I’ve sacrificed so much to let it
merely sit on my shelves in my basement since there is no market for work of
such highly personal and creative content. There should be. Like van Gogh and
so many other great artists before, I may just be ahead of my time. That little
bit of hopeful truth is what keeps me delusional with creating more artwork. A
professional dreamer, I spend most of my time adrift in my head, playing with
my fantasies, expressing my life-beaten emotions. I am an artist, and I am not
meant to be realistic.
Abstract Film vs.
Commercial Movies
2-13-06: I got
my Video I class engaged in some angry, but good arguments involving what makes
a good video project. I complained aloud in class that too many of them stuck
with obvious subject matter and didn’t really try to incorporate their own
personality and imagination into their artwork. So I showed them some older
CCAD work that was radically different in style and content. In fact, ten years
ago it was the norm to do oddball, crazy, abstract video art. But to this
modern generation who cares mostly about doing narrative-driven, commercial
work they absolutely hated it. They saw it as completely pretentious,
annoying, meaningless, and abstract just for the sake of being abstract. It was
kind of amazing to show this much more expressionistically edited work to a
group that’s not used to seeing such “weird shit”. And I admit, I liked some of
it a great deal because it was so unique, though it wasn’t without its
own faults. But there was one student who does watch video art at galleries and
museums criticized some of the abstract work for being pointless. But then
again, you have to wonder if the majority of them can’t appreciate because they
don’t have enough of an open mind to appreciate “art” that requires them
patience and intellect, not to mention for them not to have Attention Deficit
Disorder.
The Creativity Trap
5-21-06: The trap that
I fell into while developing my artistic, self-expressive skills as a student
at CCAD was that I enjoyed myself too greatly when I was making creative art.
It felt too wonderful to be able to create something so fantastic, original,
expressive, emotive, and fun. I wanted to do it all of the time. It simply
became so addictive when I became good at it. Making art was something I was
excelling at, something I’d never been able to truly do that others couldn’t do in my entire life.
That was what made it feel so special and unique to me. Creativity is a skill
that few others can harness and control. Learning to articulate it into
something concrete in the form of art (in my case, video and animation) was a
special power that I found within myself as a student during my final two years
in art school. Yet the pitfall of this was the scary realization that the real
world doesn’t have much of a use for “creative art”. And that deeply upset me
to the core of who I was: a creative human being. I had so much to say and the
skills to do something with my voice and emotions. Yet once you graduate from
art school, now what? I was frightened and freaked out. This was why I felt
such a desperate need to go to art school. I wanted to express myself while I
was still feeling the passion to get it all out of my system. I was outpouring
with creative ideas and explosive emotions. I needed to express myself as an artist. That was exactly what I had evolved
into being. I direly wanted to know that I had a two-year lease in the future
that I’d generally know what I was going to do with my creative self. It also
dawned on me that being an art teacher would be the main way to sustain a
career that would allow me to remain creative. Out of being highly creative and
finding a purpose in my life, I found myself ironically “useless” to “the real
world”. They wanted video technicians, not artists like who I was. But I also
found a bridge between art school and “the real world”, which was graduate
school. It was the time that I needed to keep working on my craft, my
creativity, and self-expression. Yet I was also discovering what kind of skills
I needed to make a career of being a teacher as a teaching assistant.
My Artistic Superhero Superpowers
5-28-06:
With all of my jealousies and anger buried deep
within my soul, the only way I've learned to release it back has been through
creating art and writing. It's my outlet ammunition. I get such an orgasmic
rush from being able to be creative and expressive in a way that others don't
know how to do. It's my superhero superpowers – creativity and self-expression.
Being an artist in society is a bit like having a secret identity as well,
which gives me another sense of rush and pleasure. I gain my creativity and energy
through listening to great music. It's like Popeye eating his spinach to get
super strong! Put on a great song and I'm intoxicated by it enough to channel
it into expressive forms and thoughts.
Feeling the Most Alive with a Chaotic Hurt
5-28-06:
There’s a great deal of urgency, emergency, and
great struggle inside after you’ve had your heart, dreams, and hopes dashed
aside, usually by a woman. Everything in your emotions unravel before you and
your pores open up asunder. It’s hard to know what is truth anymore when one’s
love is lost or left bleeding. You try to save yourself, but you can’t find an
answer. Your magical universe is imploding and you can feel every moment of
every second because something inside of you is dying… crying out. I suppose I
feel the most alive with this kind of chaotic hurt within me. A lot of creative
energy bursts through this way. You see the world with fresh eyes after the
emotional tears have wiped away all illusions. You’re reborn with the death of
love. You have to reinvent yourself with a new way of looking at life because
the old way is over. You have to move on. The urgency is real.
"Depression Artwork"
6-1-06:
You
know, if there are tens of millions of people who suffer from depression,
wouldn't it make sense to sell my artwork as "Depression Artwork"
that others who also go through depression can have something to experience to
know that they're not alone in their struggles. Using cathartic art as a means
to exploring and releasing one's demons and despair is useful and healthy. I
don't see why people would consider it "uncommercial" when so many
others have depression. Don't people want to know that they're not alone and
how to learn more about this disease?
Prepare Yourself to Be an
Obscure Artist for Life
6-5-06: You must be prepared that every artistic expression you’ve ever put your
heart and soul into won’t be heard or recognized by anyone. Few will know how
passionate you were or the hours you sacrificed to get these emotions and ideas
out because there are so many other dreamers out there. It’s like they cloned
van Gogh or something. There’s too many of us now and it makes us defunct and
useless. You think you’re someone special, but you’re not. You’re just you – an
emotional, highly creative person who wants so much to be an individual in a
world of manufactured, mass-produced mediocrity.
If We're Taking the Same
Pictures, How Do I Make My Own Images Different?
6-11-06: I faced a great and horrible artistic crisis point today. Everyone was
taking virtually the same pictures in Grand Tetons and
Finding Beauty in What
Others Don't Obviously See
6-11-06: The only natural "scenery" I found that was "artistically
unique" was taking pictures of the fantastic cloud formations of figures I
could only recognize in my own creative
imagination. Taking pictures of
these visuals gave them meaning once I expressed what I saw that was so
extraordinary that few other could find worthy of taking a picture of. That is
what makes one a real artist - finding beauty in what others don't obviously
see.
Temporary
Finite Art - Like Rainbows
6-19-06: How do so many people marvel so much at rainbows?
Because of a simple, yet extraordinary temporary arch of prism light stretched
across the sky? It appears like a freak miracle, and then it fades from the sky
canvas like it didn't even exist. I suppose people
appreciate those things that don't last forever. Perhaps all art should be
that way so it would be more appreciated and savored. If people know that such
artistic beauty won't be around long, they'll find more meaning and lasting
significance to it rather than taking it for granted all the time as just
another work of art in a world already overwhelmed with images and information.
How a Conservative Family with an Artist In It Grow
Apart
7-23-06: Here’s a good analysis of my family’s
dynamic together that I wrote up a while after we had gathered together for
Lara’s birthday. When asked, I haven’t been able to articulate why I don’t feel
quite the same with my family members though we get along… until, that is, now
I’ve spent a few hours with them and it all comes back to me why we’ve grown
apart…
Today
was the gathering together of my family to celebrate Lara’s birthday. What
struck me first was the fact that for the first time in our lives all of us had
significant others. Lara brought her boyfriend Eric, while Tanya with Steve and
their son Ryan. Dad and I were by ourselves. But I now had a girlfriend, and my
dad mentioned he was now dating someone as well. It was weird to witness my
sisters cuddled with their lovers in the family room at my dad’s place. I took
note of the Surrealism of seeing my once “little” sisters all grown up, married
or about to. And it’s still weird to think of my father with someone besides my
mother. It seems odd to see my family members with one of the opposite sex
because Lara and my dad haven’t dated much. Usually every holiday they come by
themselves. I mention that my sisters are all grown up since I don’t feel as
much kinship to them as I once did when we were much younger. Today I noticed
how religious and conservative Lara is; she even likes listening to Christian
worship music rather than “good” music. Ever since I was in high school and
when she left home for college, I evolved into a more liberal-minded, creative
human being. She on the other hand became more conservative and finding peace
in the Catholic faith. I found so much more joy and self-expression in art,
music, and movies in a way religion had closed me off to. We basically found
very disparate ways in order to find happiness to our lives. I just went one way
and she went another. The arts are just on a very different “elevated” mindset
where you need a more open mind to appreciate new ideas and extraordinary
visions. Once you’re there, you feel so much more wonder and awe to your life.
This afternoon when I showed some old edited experimental video footage I had
shot back in 1999, she laughed in embarrassment of how “weird” it was with its
motion trails, vibrant colors, and personal expressiveness. My family didn’t
know what to think of it since they didn’t have the same dreams, deep emotions,
and drive. Lara’s conservative, sheltered mind had never seen such images
before, especially from the artist adult brother she barely knows. And because
she had her boyfriend with her, she acted even more estranged by it since they
exist in their own little private world now that I’m also obviously not part
of. We’ve lost the sibling intimacy we once shared as kids playing games in the
same house. She may also be subconsciously upset that she isn’t part of my
creative life since she can’t contribute to it. It’s just too foreign to her.
They’ve all got their own personal lives to confide and share in. That leaves
less attention to one’s siblings since we’re not around each other anymore. And
there lies the gully of separation that occurs when you leave home to find
yourself. I think Lara sees and remembers me more when I was six than the real
me of today. At the Chinese buffet we ate at for her birthday, Lara commented
aloud how shocked she was to see me eat such a diversity of food since she
recalls me being so finicky eater as a child. I could just imagine how a 1950’s
Beat poet’s family (like William S. Burroughs) might have reacted if they were
so conservative, almost from another domestic world that would find his work so
utterly bizarre they’d just laugh at it from how “weird” it is to them. They’re
just not from that “hip” world that is open to creativity and artistic ideas.
They’re from a world of raising children, going to church, and going to
Cincinnati Reds baseball games. It’s a billion miles away from surrealist movie
director David Lynch and 70’s Glam Rock musician David Bowie. People change
based on what people or ideas they meet throughout their life. In my family’s
case, it’s the significant others that they meet and how their personality
scalps to meet that other person. I’d never seen Lara show much interest in
going to baseball games. Now she goes all the time with her boyfriend. It’s all
a bit confusing. I suppose it works both ways with how my family views me and
my extremely diverse personal role models. I’m so far gone from the
conservative shy youngster who once served mass nearly every week that my
sisters don’t know me anymore and it confuses them to the point where they
can’t relate. All they’ve known their entire life is to go to church on Sunday.
And they’ve never truly questioned that. Once I stopped, they found me
different and “lost”. In truth, I was very much found. I just can’t help it
if they didn’t feel the same way. I’m happier being agnostic rather a
practicing Catholic. I found healthier views in other religions like Buddhism.
I longed for inspiration for my imagination rather than religious aggravation
and mental enslavement. I saw religion as a prison and I wanted escape. Those
little moments where our views parted because I stood up for what independent
choices I made in my life to make myself a happier person left me isolated from
my family in that area. But in my circle of friends who are artists with
similar principles, it’s completely natural
not to go to church since it’s so out-of-date with the modern times and
ideologies. And once you’re strayed from the conservative ways of your family,
you just can’t fully come back home again (as the old saying goes). We grew up
and made our own choices. And yet still, we still respect and are nice to one
another because we’re family. Yet It is rather tiring to be around my family
for a long period of time since I have to try to fit into their world. And
that’s very exhausting trying to be like someone I’m not. It makes me feel like
I’m not free. If the scales were
tipped, they’d be the ones feeling insecure and unnerved. I just try to relax
when I’m around family and try to go along with everything. They are, after
all, very good people. We just don’t personally share the same viewpoints. It
does bother me that I’m not extremely talkative with their small talk and daily
gossip since it’s all so alien and unexciting to me. I don’t belong to any
religious groups so it’s difficult for me to get excited about their
conversation. If they brought up the life and passion of Vincent van Gogh or
how beautiful and moving Beethoven’s 9th Symphony is, I’d be able to
talk at length for hours! But Lara usually talks about our cousins that I
rarely see or know anymore. She’ll sometimes try to reach out to me by bringing
up a movie she’d recently seen to “involve” me. But she’ll lack any depth to
discussing it since it’s usually a standard
So
hopefully, I’ve explained what a chore it is for me to be at these family
functions by myself. I do enjoy how having outsiders at our family gathering
can greatly change the dynamic in the room. Everyone’s on their best behavior,
which eases from tensions that might arise if it was just us blood relatives
together. All in all, my family got along rather warmly together today. I even
got out a Frisbee and threw it with my brother-in-law Steve and Lara at one
point for half an hour. It’s about finding those little simpler things that are
universal that most anyone can share together as a family. It can be as easy as
throwing a Frisbee together that connects us together to have fun together.
"There's Too Many Movies In The World For My Own" Crisis
Question
8-16-06: I had a crisis of conscience this
morning from seriously contemplating what's the point of making any new movies
when there are literally tens of millions of movies, Hollywood-made or
home-made, saturating the world? I was reading the latest issue of Entertainment
Weekly for their Fall Movie Preview and here were over 80 movies all trying
to attention in that short season! If you don't have a "name" star(s)
attached to the project, the public in general won't be interested in seeing
your work because there are more highly marketed films out there. There are
thousands of arty-little short movies out there; why add another one to the
litter with my own self-made reveries? It made me severely question what's the
point to everything artistic and creative I've been doing and working so hard
on every spare moment I've got? Or should I have taken the "easy",
normal route by just raising children? I wanted to be something extraordinary
and I have. The major flaw to it all was that no one cares because there's so
many "extraordinary" movies out in the world. What is going to make
my world stand out even more than it already is by being different, original,
personal, and creative? Do I have to do something taboo, controversial, crazy,
terrorist-zeitgeist cinema?!? What is going to make people care when there is
so much apathy out there in the world regarding art when there's just too much
of it? And by creating more of it we're lessening its impact. Yes, art is very
important to our society's balance and the way it sees itself. But it is
terrifying that only a handful of artists out of thousands are able to get
their work shown and exposed, while other just as deserving artists are left
abandoned and obscure. Such a gruesome realization is enough to make one cease
making art altogether out of fear of starvation and/or insane expression, or
force them to take their work to the next level. It's that intensity that will
force one to confront their work and mature. But still that may not be
enough....
Release Both Versions
of the Movie on a Single DVD
8-18-06: Since Hollywood compromises
movies for their own greed of making money off of manufacturing things to fit a
more family-orientated market, why not release a film on DVD together as both a
commercially-slick, family-friendly version... and also an
artistically-orientated, personal vision version of the film that is geared
more towards mature, intelligent adults and critics. One will have stupid pop
songs that are inoffensive and don't make you think, along with product placements
galore; the other will have the choice songs that the director wanted and every
edit and shot will be what the director envisioned. That way you get the best
of both worlds as a compromise.
The Loss of
Creativity in the Real World Work Setting
2-24-07: The #1
thing that graduating art school students complain about once they enter the
work field is the sudden and shocking loss of being able to be creative in
their work. For four years, they were able to do whatever they wished to pursue
in their young and fertile imaginations. Yet suddenly after graduation, they
are thrust into jobs that reduce them into drone bees in a hive. To the
creative mind, this is devastating, stifling, and numbing. And yet, I cannot
deny the allure of being a teacher, one of the very few jobs I knew of that I
continue being creative in. Working at an art school allows me to remain
artistically fertile rather than be in a creatively-stifled environment that
might smother my great grand ideas forever.
Why I Am Attracted to
Surrealism
3-21-07: The
existence of God has always been a tricky thing for me as I grew up as a
Catholic. Once I got out of my small town environment that was mostly German
Catholics, I was exposed to other ways of thinking. In Catholicism, you are taught
that there is only one God and only one God you should worship. Well, other
religions worship other deities of Buddha, Muhammad, Zeus, or the Sun. And yet
we are also taught to be respectful of other people’s beliefs. How can I say
that they are wrong then for praying to their “God”? What if the God I believe
in and was taught to believe in isn’t real either? Hence, this was just one
occurrence where surrealism came into play in a major way. I just didn’t know
how to feel or how to act. Do Catholics just not ask themselves these big,
complex, paradoxical questions that might shake up their entire belief system?
Do they censor themselves from asking “What am I doing here?” so they can
remain sane and happy like little children or cattle? I lost my faith in
religion, but not in a higher being. But the breakaway from religion cost me my
unity with my family and cousins since they didn’t think the same way I did.
The complexities can estrange thee, as they did to me. Surrealism took hold of
my soul and my thoughts. I wrestle with it daily ever since. (And this was just
one instance of millions.)
Steps to Improving
Your Art
7-5-07: Look at
art with complete disinterest, and then find a way to make it interesting to
other people. Do you do that through an opening narration or explanation of
what the piece is about? You have to ask yourself why anyone else besides
yourself should care enough to spend their hard-earned time to your artwork.
What makes it worthwhile? You have to make its existence essential. Or else it is just existential.
Having an “Imaginary Friend” for Creative Satisfaction
When
we were young, we sometimes create an imaginary friend (an innocent incarnation
of our imagination) when we were sad or lonely. I never had a real “imaginary
friend”, except for my tendency to daydream a great deal and make up stories,
characters, and fantasies in my head. So my “imaginary friends” evolved into
being my artwork. I talked and communicated through actual physical media like
digital images, sound, and writing. As an adult, art has saved my life from
days of loneliness, isolation, and sorrow. It was a form of finding creative
satisfaction through a love of the imagination. Creating artwork became a
medicine for the soul.
The
role of the artist is a harrowing one because it’s a balancing act of living in
a dream world and living in the real world. To express such wild fantasies
means to remove oneself from the ordinary concepts and workings of modern
society. Living within one’s fantasies involves seeing the world in a
fictional, otherworldly aspect. As beneficial as it is for ones art, being that
way only makes living and dealing with the real world all the more problematic,
unnerving, and ultimately disturbing. Being a dreamer in a logical world is a
nightmare for one’s emotions. Everything is not real or as fantastic as in
one’s dreams. Having to cope with both mindsets of being normal and being
eccentric is a tightrope act for one’s mind. It’s easy to get confused and
fall. It’s a great, troubling conflict for artists to live by and a painful one
at that. To live in one’s imagination can never compare to living in reality.
I would have to say that there is a war inside my
personality for control over myself. My extroverted side and my introverted
side are at war for the rights to my emotions and actions. I tend to settle
with my introverted side because I have less of a chance in wasting my time and
a greater opportunity of allowing my dreams to grow. Extroverted activities
have often grown old after the first hour. If you’re by yourself, you can
choose what you wish to do with your time. The possibility to waste one’s time
is much higher when you’re with another person. You don’t always have something
to do together. Yet sometimes I will become bored with one way and completely
and immediately switch over to the other side. Suddenly, I will become
extremely talkative and hyperactive. I want
to be around people. But perhaps in an hour or two, I’ll want my solitude
again. My personality has that sort of tug-of-war for control of the man.
An Outsider’s Insights
There’s
a lot that has been said about foreign directors having a better, more keen eye
on
One of my abilities as an artist is to be able to
feel what other people feel, as well as to think what other people are
thinking. I suppose I gained much of my insight from watching and observing
thousands of movies in my lifetime. You really can learn a lot from the movies. It is the gift and curse of
empathy. So “beware of artists”: they know more about you than you know
about yourself. We really are that sensitive and observant.
The van Gogh Legacy
Van Gogh once wrote: I must learn to
paint what I feel - not what I see; but what I feel about what I see."
I’ve taken that reflection to heart and based it into my own life.
With
all due honesty, it tears me up inside that I’ve put that sincere heart out on
the line in my computer animation, computer art, and interactive pieces and
they still don’t make any difference to anyone besides a handful of close
friends… and myself. I truly wonder if my introspection has mattered to anyone.
Will people just go and joke, “This guy sure is weird, emotional, and
depressed!” and go back to their lives? I want to make something so personal
it’ll be universal to everyone who has deep emotions, imagination, intellect,
and a sense of humor. (At least I’ll get the an alienated teenage outcast
crowd.) I know that this has become a cliché in my life and with any struggling
artist, but I truly feel a deep empathy for Vincent van Gogh for allowing
myself to be consumed in my artwork and not receive much or any recognition for
it during my lifetime.
I feel that I was seduced by the romanticism of creating great art out of extraordinary desperation. I’m burning out all my pain as fuel for my art. It’s the van Gogh legacy in me. It’s a selfish, addictive routine that leads me back to where I was before: lost and found in my own hell/ fantasy world.
Yet after deep thought and years
of reflection, I don’t think I’d mind being a “genius” and not being recognized
for it during my lifetime. At least I would be living out my role model Vincent
van Gogh’s life.
Artistic Confession
When
I create art, I confess it. My emotions possess me with the intensity needed to
drive my creativity and ambition. Art can provoke a portal to emotions - a
catalyst for empathy. For nearly every day in my life, I’ve channeled my
problems, fears, courage, feelings, and creativity into an expression, a
release, a "miracle", and a belief. With challenging myself in
discovering the "art" in me, I've grown into an ultra-sensitive,
subtly "insane" mammal with the ability to express myself creatively.
I can't cease from being honest about my emotions, especially when I’m exposing
them nakedly as art or writing. As a lonely soul, I need a way to survive. God
only knows where it will lead me.
What keeps me together mentally and
emotionally is my artwork and creative activities. Without imagination, my life
would be a desperate failure. Yet with my creativity, I feel like a god, a
creator of what 99.9% of the population cannot dream up. The art and writing I
obsessively release is what makes my self-esteem high. It keeps me believing in
myself.
Sticking to a life of routines is what makes like
seemingly “fly by”. That’s why when we’re young, life seems to go much slower.
We’re living spontaneously. We don’t know what’s around the corner. We’re not
in robotic jobs that have us go to work at a set time and leave work at a set
time. That’s why I’ve chosen the life of an artist. There is no real routine –
there’s constant change. I’m improvising every day. Married life, to me,
isn’t what I’m looking for. Sex on a regular basis dulls the mind. When you’re
a kid and dreaming about having sex was so much better than actually regularly
having sex. Not that I don’t love sex, but predictable or kinky sex isn’t all
that great after several years. Yet it’s like living life happily on
cruise-control with relative comfort and safety towards death. But that’s not truly
living. To live in relaxation is to sleepwalk through life. Make life an
adventure – not a resort.
During my fifth grade year, I pondered deeply about
what I’d become when I grew up. Such a profound topic for a twelve year old
troubled me for a long time. Coming from a heavily religious family, I briefly
considered becoming a priest. It seemed like the ideal career in order to help
other people and serve God. I endearingly wanted to spread goodness. It was my
greatest wish. As the years developed and I matured, I grew apart from the
whole religious routine of attending religion classes and going to church. I’d
had my fill of the Old and New Testament and needed some escapism. I knew I
liked to daydream, so I became an artist/ writer instead. It was the
appropriate route for a creative person to take. What emerged from my artwork
was a need and desire to help people… to show them a light. I believe my
artwork has empathic values within them that people can feel from and discover
new things about themselves. In a way, I’m a minister of using visuals and
audio to communicate emotions and imaginations. I’m a creator as a servant of
God. I don’t need to actually be a priest or rabbi in order to spread the Good
Word, as well as not be afraid of showing the Darkness. My work represents both
Heaven and Hell.
In a way, when you’re an artist, you’re a mother.
You’re giving birth to something out of yourself. It builds for several months,
even years, and finally it comes out and it becomes a work of art.
Love and Art
I
consider creating art to be like the act of loving. And when you’re creating
art that you know is great, the experience is extremely gratifying. The viewer/
lover has to feel something from it. You better make it count and put
everything you’ve got into the expression and make it an adventure to remember.
If the viewer isn’t getting anything from it, you’re not communicating well
enough. If things become routine and repetitious, the experience becomes
boring. When you make art, give it pleasure and give it pain. Make sure it’s
sincere and full of passion. I feel so strong when I’m feeling creative and
releasing all these ideas and images while music is fueling me along. It’s like
living an artistic high.
When I am unraveled emotionally, I am
filled with the emotions that spark my imagination to create art. It feels
better than any orgasm. The feeling can last for a minute or hours.
Creative inspiration and release is better than sexual intercourse. It
is the ultimate in living.
Exposing and Exorcising Personal Demons
One
could say that the act of creating art is practically an act of violence. Some
of the artwork that I’ve expressed is my own aesthetic expression of violence
deep in me. We all repress emotions. My art are my personal demons exposed. I had
to release them the same way someone might sing, murder, destroy, rape, scream,
or love - all acts of passion. The aggression I had built up had provoked me to
do something about it. Art was the most sane expression/ exercise to do. I have
to do some sort of art every day in order to keep a balance to my sanity.
Much
of my artwork is full of and built on desperate energy. Yet I wish for my
artwork to express everything life has to offer us: the poignancy, the
childlike wonder, the darkness, the love, the reverie, the anger,
the humor, and the honesty. I want to show the spectrum of life through the
environment of art. I want my artwork to be so personal
that the viewer should feel like they know me.
While I was working on some of my artwork at school
yesterday, someone asked me if I was having a good summer vacation now that
school had let out for the spring semester. “Yeah!” I replied with mixed
confusion since I wasn’t sure if he meant a “real” summer vacation. What I’ve
mostly been doing with my time has been working on my art since I didn’t have
any teaching duties or chores to do for a while. To me, creating art is a
vacation into the imagination. It’s a journey I enjoy taking. And I’ve taken
that voyage quite a few times. The greatest vacations I’ve ever had has been
when I’ve taken myself to places no one else has seen or experienced. That’s
adventure! That’s excitement! That’s exploration! And to take that artwork and
show it to other people allows them to take the same trip through my own
fantasia. Even though we’re not all physically together, it’s still a vacation
we all take together through the art. You could call it, “The Great Escape”.
Good Fortune and the Guilt
What
my artistic life has come down to is that I had enough money to get me through.
After graduating from the Columbus College of Art and Design, I managed to
leave
While
talking on the phone to Justin Jason, I asked what had happened to our ‘hippie’
art school classmate friend Mike Folliet. Justin informed me that Mike has been
working at a framing company. He had a show, but it wasn’t of much new work. Is
that what has happened to my old classmates after they graduated? Was the last
of their artistic ambition left behind once they graduated? It’s sick that my
friends’ dreams aren’t supported or given some sort of funding. It’s a sad fact
that a lot of artists don’t make art anymore after art school.
And
unfortunately and sometimes inevitably, there is an emotional gulf that is
created from the unbalance of careers among artistic friends and family. Envy
can subtly and gradually break up a relationship from a lack of advantages. If
one friend is making $100,000 per year and the other is barely making $15,000,
it obviously hurts their relationship. It’s a sad part of life that happens to
everyone at some point in their life. People change, and accepting that is
often the hardest part of co-existing with others.
The
following is an excerpt from a letter from Vincent van Gogh to his brother Theo
on receiving his financial support: “I’m sure you have saved my life and I will
always remember that. Money can be repaid, but not kindness such as yours.”
With
that quote, I wish to gratefully acknowledge my parents’ assistance and support
of my artistic career that led into becoming a teacher. They may not have
understood or fully appreciated my artwork, but at least they didn’t stop me
from making it.
Unlike
some of my friends and former classmates, I work obsessively to get ahead in my
art and in work. My family wasn’t as rich or as socially connected as some
people’s families. For my art portfolio, I had to go to a community college in
I
have to keep working to “make it”, though I don’t know exactly what for. Am I
at some psychological loss from years of unpopularity, romantic rejection,
general boredom, or creative bliss? Many of my earlier art pieces were done
with an almost suicidal honesty. I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to be
noticed by society, a grad school, or a girl.
Art School Discipline
My
undergraduate Art school years were basically boot camp for aspiring artists.
Half of my peers dropped out by their first semester of their freshman year.
You have to work on your assignments during every waking moment - including
evenings, nights, mornings, and weekends. I usually went to bed around 1:30
a.m. to 3:30 a.m. and woke up around 6:45 a.m. Sometimes, you pull an
all-nighter and don’t go to sleep at all. The cafeteria food sucked. The
workload doesn’t let up for four months until a month holiday break, and then
back again for another four. You constantly have to watch to see if any of your
peers are showing signs of suicidal tendencies... sometimes it’s even your best
friend, your roommate, or yourself.
One of the first things an inspiring artist has to
accomplish after getting their technique and training down is to find their
individual voice. They can’t go around painting images of dogs and cat, sunsets
and pretty pictures all their life. It’s all been done before. You have to do
something original and innovative with your talent and imagination. Some
artists stop there and don’t proceed to find a way to do something
extraordinary. They’re perfectly comfortable recycling what’s been done before
and repackaging it with a slightly different look. All the photographs have
been taken. All the paintings have been painted. All the comic books have been
drawn. What area hasn’t been explored enough is using art in a time-based form.
Commercial filmmakers can only go in circles after a hundred years of making
and remaking the same old scripts, plots, and storylines. Yet experimental
personal movies have barely been tapped into. Thanks to the new technological
tools artists have at their disposal (such as computer animation and other
software programs), they can produce whatever is in their fantastic
imaginations. These tools are the future of art. They offer us artists the
ability to break new ground in the artistic horizon. Still based art is a
dead-end art. Movies can be so much more than just entertainment. They can be
the infinite media canvas.
If you’re disturbed, different, or brilliant, art
school is an alternative to going to a mental institution. It’s a place where
you can release your emotions constructively and gain focus to your life. It’s
well-known that many of those who go to art school have tried, attempt, or at
least contemplated suicide at some point in their life. Art school is a place
of salvation. It’s a hospital for the emotions and the mind. It’s a place to
purge one’s self and create something beautiful. That’s why I work at
one. It’s a scene of art therapy.
Artistic “Real World” Conflict
My
GOD!!” I screamed one day, “are there no jobs for people who are just
purely creative and hard working?!! I’ve got big dream with nowhere to go!”
In a strange, sad way, going to art school was like
living in a fantasy world of ideas, imagination, and aesthetics. In the outside
world, they don’t care so much about the integrity of art. “ “The real world”
cares about commercial value. Graduating from art school can be the ultimate
rude wake-up call for those artists who are living in their own little, big
fantasy worlds. Such a shock can be horrific. They ask you the most provocative
questions: “What makes you different from everyone else? What separates you
from what is normal?” You work so hard to find your own voice and style - only
to find yourself alienated and no one relates to your work. You’re ahead of
your time. You remain a genius to yourself and an outcast to the rest of the
world.
Art as a Voice
On
most occasions, my art can speak louder and far more brilliantly than I can in
mere words out loud. Simply speaking spontaneously in casual conversation is not
enough to make an impact in society. Art allows me the chance to think through
what I want to say, wait until the moment of inspiration, and release it
through artwork or writing. These very words are a realization made real
from a moment of self-awareness of how my art I produce is an extension of
myself. Art and writing are greater façades of myself than what I naturally
have with an average looking, shy, quiet human male body. Art makes me
extraordinary rather than ordinary. Art has allowed me to open up in ways I
wasn’t able to do in normal conversation. When I have the time to organize my
thoughts and dreams into a clearer vision of what I want to express, then I
feel that I have matured into a true voice.
Introspective or Anti-Social... or Both?
“I
have a confession to make: ...I’m having an affair with my art.”
People
have been assuming that I’m obviously anti-social since I’ve managed to produce
so much work in the past few years. In a sense, they’re right. But I have to
defend myself again and again that I feel that I am justified in my actions. I
know that there are women out there who are very interesting and artistic and
fascinating... just not exclusively in south
Worse
yet, you can’t “stop” being creative. If you take a year off, the artistic mind
set could fade or vanish. There is no retirement, only distraction, when you’re
in the creativity business. If I had to describe my life in social activity
terms, I would say I’m dating and making love my artwork, to creative ideas and
impassioned emotions. Only when you’re by yourself can one become a true individual. And it does have its
benefits (originality)... and problems (the loneliness). Yet I don’t get lonely
if I can have something to occupy my time. I chose art to save myself and offer
me some meaning to this life. Yet I cannot work forever... and that old
familiar emptiness aches back into me.
A loner is someone who stays away from society so s/he
won't be corrupted… one who realizes that something is wrong and refuses to be
part of its "norms". I am proud to be a loner... and it torments me
every day.
When you’ve got so many dreams in your head that you
feel like they’re flooding your every waking thought, you know you’ve become an
artist because you’ve got to express them to release. You just can’t hold back
the dam gates of creativity. When you get so many ideas per day, you haven’t
got a choice but to let them out in some form of artistic expression. When you
don’t want to waste them by not doing something with them, you know you’re an
artist. When you spend every day thinking up something original and you find
yourself jotting down notes constantly, you know you have to be an artist.
You’re different. You’re plagued/ cursed/ blessed/ damned/ gifted with too many
dreams to hold inside forever. You have to be an artist.
I do have the inner pride of
being a real artist – the real thing. I’m not the son or daughter of an upper
class aristocrat whose spoiled upbringing got me in the position where I can
party every day and throw some paint on a canvas as a hobby. I do my artwork
out of an emotional and spiritual necessity. I have not compromised my artwork
by doing what other people think I should be doing. I control my own fate and
my artwork’s vision. The ideas are my own without the help of “ghost-writers”
or “script-doctors”. I have the rights to my own content by self-creating
everything. I have not let wealth or fame interfere with my creative habits. I have
not let drugs influence or corrupt my life. I have dedicated myself to my
artwork through the pursuit of a greater imagination for the world to
experience through me. I am the bringer of fantasy – the universal dreamer.
You know, one of the most essential
things to sustaining creativity is to be isolated from negative criticism and
attitudes. You have to have a initiative to keep creating art. If someone
rejects your work or tells you you’re wasting your time, you may find yourself
ultimately giving up on your art. It’s an insane thing to be creative in our
society that doesn’t endorse the arts as much as they should. If you are around
such negativity, you need a thick skin and be able to believe in yourself
enough to keep on working. You have to know a lot about yourself and why you’re
doing art in order to survive such artistic crises. Having extraordinary
self-determination is a must. (Being self-delusional could be considered doing
the same thing.) You have to trust in your art and yourself. Outside opinions can be a good thing, but they need
to be critical in a good way rather than being in a naïve, thoughtlessly
destructive way. You have to look out for foolish people who may discourage
you. Yet if you’re isolated from the outside world and live without
distractions, the art inside could effortlessly flow out without hesitation. If
you’re working in isolation “in your own world” or among friends or family who
encourage your work, then you can work without losing your creativity.
Something happened after my studies
at undergraduate and graduate school… the urgency eased away. Slowly, the
passion to dream diminishes. Upon entering “the real world”, I had to “act”
like I’d conformed and be normal. I took a job teaching time-based media arts,
which allowed me to supplement my computer artwork. Still, having a profession
took over forty hours out of my week when I was used to working 80 hours a week
on my art while in grad school. My attention to the artwork side of my life was
literally cut in two. Then came my social life. I’d been mostly a loner for
most of my life. Gradually, I started hanging out with more people and actually
enjoying myself. I wasn’t so full of raw depression or competitive drive
that forced me to dream and focus so deeply on my artwork. I had to spend time
with friends and the lady in my life. Hanging out with friends and simply wasting
time gradually softened my creative and emotional zeal. I was so
comfortable that I had stopped “living” for my art and making true artistic
progress. I hadn’t stopped making art, but I did have to slow down. Yet I began
to get so emotionally comfortable that I had initiated myself to start “living”
for myself for a social life like 99.9% of society. Yet I was neglecting what
great art I could have made. That’s when I realized the danger with having a
good ol’ time (copulating, watching TV, drinking, smoking, or whatever)
without having made a mark in society with my art – especially with a mind
brewing with dreams and a personality ripe with emotions. (Nevertheless, there should always be some time to
spend for a social life.) I mainly blame
this slow loss of artistic focus on graduation day from school.
The ultimate question arises of “Why
continue making art?” So many potentially great artists cease to exist from
creating any new art after that point on. There’s no point. “Get a job” is what
they’re told by the REAL WORLD (parents, significant other, roommate).
But if you do end up remaining creative
and expressing yourself through creative means while out of art school, keep up
fighting for art’s sake. I suppose part of the problem rests in the fact that
when you’re twenty-one you’re hungrier and more passionate about changing the
world through your artwork and emotions. You just have to tell yourself that
you’re as young as you feel. As an artist, you have to remain energetic at
heart and blissfully naïve – if not delusional for the sake of protecting your
passions. “You can change the world, or at least your world!” you have
to tell yourself. The body grows older and wearier, but the creative spirit
shall remain. It just has to be reminded sometimes.
Life
simply doesn’t have a place for real artists. There is no market for
extraordinary innovation, expression, and emotion - just sugarcoated sensations
and showy, emotionless special effects like in today’s terrible
What
Is “Accessible”?
I don’t know how to describe what I do as
accessible. What is “accessible”? Something that’s been done before countless
times that have proven commercially and financially well received. But art
isn’t meant to be made into money. That completely changes its nature. And I
believe that is where people lose their focus and understanding to time-based
video and computer art. Most everyone expects it to be commercially viable
since
The Relationship Between Artist and Audience
“I was just having fun with words. You just take words and
stick them together and see if they create any sort of meaning. You see, the
last album was me coming out of my dream... you could last your whole life on
that.... I’m singing about my life. If it’s relevant to others peoples’ lives,
that’s alright.” That was a quote by John Lennon that I’ve always remembered
for it simplistically sums up my own art.
Since
most of my art explores the subconscious and revolves around the world of
surrealism, I feel that it has a playfully appealing, dreamish quality that
anyone can enjoy. My work isn’t for intellectuals, arty types, or rich people -
I make it for everyone who can dream. I want my work to help the viewer find
their feelings... to dissect their apathy. My work does tend to be very
personal and naked. In a sense, it’s emotional pornography for an open-minded
society.
I
don’t think much about the commercial worth of my work when I’m creating art.
If people find it interesting or relate to it, I’m immensely pleased. I give
the world the most pure, sincere, heartfelt emotional and imaginative
expression I can possibly create. I have had people accuse me that I don’t
think about “my audience”. Emotions are
universal. I just give them an aesthetic appearance - a surface and a sound to
match their essences. I am constantly on the search for creating art that is
challenging, while also being considered
“accessible experimentation”. If a certain group of people can’t allow
themselves to feel deeply inside and relate to those emotions on the screen,
then they disappoint me. There’s nothing fake or false in my work. That alone
should gain it some artistic merit or respect.
Since
my work can be displayed electronically, I don’t feel a need for my work to
have to only be shown in a museum. I would be just as thrilled to see it in a
suburban home, a small town library, or an inner city school. Because art has
real emotions and soul, it doesn’t mean it has a limited audience. It is easier
to just use superficial, dumbed down emotions that everyone in the world will
understand and not have to think or feel uncomfortable about. There is no way
to tell who will find my work exciting or not. It is a personal preference. Everyone dreams. To experience someone else’s
dreams is something revealing, voyeuristic, and exciting. When dealing with
emotions in art, there has to be an honesty to it or else it feels contrived.
Dreams and emotions are the keys to my work. The audience unlocks the doors.
“Does the artwork have universal appeal? What age
group do you see this picture appealing to?” These are questions that nag at me
every so often as an “experimental” artist who produces “personal artwork”. Is
my work too weird and innovative to appeal to more than 1% of the populace? If
it doesn’t, there is no place for it to be promoted and therefore my work
becomes forgotten about on a shelf with hundreds of other works of mine. I
believe my artwork has an emotional core to it that is devastatingly honest and
real. I suppose I put “sugar” and “honey” on it by using bright, vibrant colors
in my artwork. I’ll make it aesthetically appealing while still aggressively raw
with feelings. But seriously, how can I possibly consider what age group my
work will appeal towards? “Anyone who can handle and empathize with honest and
direct emotions in the context of brilliant imagination,” I’d say. We’re all
human beings, aren’t we? We can feel for each other, can’t we? We learn from
one another, can’t we? Then how can my artwork not be considered “universal”?
Maybe it’s because people don’t always want to look at something too real.
That’s the contradiction of my artwork: it’s realism in the form of surrealist
escapism. Once an artist consciously targets their work to appeal to a certain
group, then it is instantly commercial art. Whenever the artwork flows out of
one’s soul and subconscious without a thought for money or wealth, then it is art.
It’s pure and it’s real. There is no pretensions about it. It exists because it
has to. The artist delivered it himself or herself. If the pregnant thoughts in
our beings need to be released no matter what, then they must be. Some people
find the screaming of art comforting. Some people find the it repelling. As
long as they hear - that is what’s important. It’s an open mind that us artists
seek in our audience. That is enough.
But what if that is not enough? As it was
mentioned in a Woody Allen movie: “Hitchcock was an artist and a commercial
filmmaker. He knew what he was doing. He was thinking about his audience.
Filmmakers have to be that way. Otherwise, you’d just be making movies for
yourself. It would be like artistic masturbation. You’d be a
narcissist.” Any artist, including myself, has to wonder if this is true. Do I
have to put Grace Kelly or Leonardo DiCaprio into my movies to make them profitable and bankable?!”
It’s madness. You have to make a “hit” or else you’ll become homeless and out
of work. No one wants you. You need money to survive. And honest art won’t pay
the bills. You have to make it dumb, pretty, sexy, fun, exciting; but also
challenging, intellectual, brilliant, visionary, mind-blowing, experimental,
and poignant. It’s practically a contraction combination.
Commercial
Ingredients for Personal Art
To paraphrase some witty sardonic sentiments of John
Lennon in describing going from his raw and brutally personal “Plastic Ono
Band” album to ‘sweet’ “Imagine” album: To get more of a mass audience, make
your desperation sexy! Put sugar and glitter on your depression art blues and
reds!
The Road of Artistic Honesty in a Commercial World
My
artwork is my identity, my individuality, my humor, and my heart. I feel that
art expression is a vital activity that should remain free of any conformity.
Yet that is an especially difficult thing to do in the real world where you have to make a living by making
marketable, commercial art. That is why when most people think of computer art,
they immediately think of special effects in movies and commercials. The only
realistic way to escape the pressures of doing strictly commercial work is to teach in a creative environment... be it
in a first grade classroom or a university. A teaching career* allows one to
grow as an artist in any way they feel fit while guiding and educating others.
To remain true to oneself and one’s art is one of the most difficult things an
artist can do. The temptation of money and a lack of creative ideas often
scares artists from exploring themselves throughout their lives. A lack of
money and energy are also grim reasons why artists don’t survive on originality
and innovative concepts.
*But
along with teaching and academia are administrative duties, committee meetings,
and more meetings.
The Dilemma of Being a Digital Artist
Because
there isn’t an original work in computer art, selling digital fine art to the
public is almost impossible. In the world of traditional art, a painting is
worth a lot of money because there is only an original. I feel that computer
art is suffering from a lack of respect since their work can be easily
reproduced. This is why most people look at animation and computer art in a
commercial light - you have to mass-produce what you are doing to get a profit
back. This is a major dilemma for
almost all fine art computer artists - especially time-based artists. The image
and content should be the most important aspects of art; yet unfortunately, if
it isn’t an original or a still-image to match one’s house, the artist will not
be able to live. I believe that one
day personal, expressive pieces made on the computer will gain the recognition
they deserve. For the time being, most of those artists have to take a deep
sigh and either “sell” themselves to the commercial field... or teach.
My artwork could be called “small”
art, as in it doesn’t exactly appeal to a mass audience. My work is more
personal, quirky, eccentric, creative, and unique than most commercial work.
But that is exactly what makes it different and good. Those who
do understand and “get” what I am expressing are rewarded with a deeper
connection to the art that is more personally, emotionally, and artistically
pleasurable. It’s depth lies in its personal identification to what the work is
about. Most commercial work expresses the same old storyline and characters
without the idiosyncrasies and originality that makes up most human beings.
That is the core of what I try to express as a creative artist working today.
“Art for the Self”/
“Art for the Soul”
What
a revolutionary idea – make art for your own self without thinking about an
outside audience or how much money you’d want to sell your artwork for. Make
art to get your emotions out. If other people relate to it, all the better.
Personal art is meant to be empathized with through the honesty of the work. It
is doing something that commercial art cannot create: the human soul. Art is
something that must be in our lives in order to figure our way through this
mess called “life”. Without it, we’re all alone and falling apart. Commercial
art is all about escapism. Personal art is about making us face our fears,
dreams, hopes, disappointments, desires, and struggles… hopefully without
sugar-coating it. It is what connects us together as a collective society all
going through similar, but different struggles.
"This
song is from one of those albums I made after I left the Rolling Stones, and
most people thought it was only about my
parents. It's actually about 99% of the parents out there alive or half
dead." -John Lennon introducing "Mother".
From a “Rolling Stone” article:
Irish
singer Sinead O'Connor plans to retire after the release of the live DVD Goodnight, Thank You. You've Been a Lovely
Audience in July. "I seek no longer to be a 'famous' person, and
instead I wish to live a 'normal' life," O'Connor explained in a post on
her Web site. "I am glad that ye are helped by my songs. So help me too,
by giving me a private life."
"My advice to
anyone who ever admires a so-called 'celebrity,' if you see them in the street,
don't even look at them," O'Connor continued. "If you love them, then
the lovingest thing you can do is leave them alone and don't stare at them! Or
bang on restaurant windows when they're in there. Or make them get their
picture taken, or write their names on bits of paper. That's pieces of them.
And one day they wake up with nothing left of themselves to give."
"Thanks to all of ye for a
great time and a great education," O'Connor concluded. "Love, peace,
and don't forget to pray."
Upon learning that one of my
favorite musicians was ceasing from making more of her art, I started an
intense discussion with my friend Justin about fame. Indeed, who would want to
be invaded everywhere you go by fans, fanatics, and freaks.
We expressed how “glad” we were about being artists and not being
famous. It’s really quite a relief to remain an anonymous artist and be able to
remain creative under our own rules. Imagine not being to go out without people
staring at you – recognizing you – wherever you go. It’d be insane. I’d
treasure my privacy. I treasure my privacy even as an unknown artist! “Fame” –
such a mystical goal for millions of us in our idealistic naïve views of
“success” – really is a curse in the end. Yet, we (even myself) continue
to dream of what would be like to be “adored” and “admired” by millions.
(“That’d show all my high school classmates!”)
The Right-Brained, But Right-Handed Dilemma?
It
has been discovered that people are generally more artistic if they are
left-handed than right-handed people. Left-handed people tend to use the right
side of their brain that specializes in being artistic and creative. That
“fact” was always discouraging to my dreams of becoming an "artist"
because I was right-handed. So I used my frustration as a reason to work harder
on my artwork. In the end, I was an artist and still right-handed. (This
conflict of proven knowledge was just one of the reasons why I embraced Surrealism
in my work and life.)
Right/ Left Brain Confusion Functioning
After
I read a chapter on Right/ Left Brain functions, which led me to fathom my own
confused state. Since I’ve been right-handed for as long as I can remember, I
have had a slight confusion/ creative blend of mind. In this chapter, it stated
that right-brained, creative people have usually been left-handed. So maybe I
had learned to work with the wrong hand when I was young! That could have
screwed up my brain functions, such as my handwriting. Maybe….
To Make Every Hair
Stand On End
I want to make art that is going
to make every hair on your entire body stand up on end. I used to get that
excitement from watching great movies when I was younger. I haven’t felt that
way in a long, long time. God, I miss that cinematic sense of awe. So I have to
create my own art to excite myself. It’s out of a desperate need to feel in awe
again like I used to feel. I want my imagination to be opened.
To be cool is probably one of the worst things you
could be as a human being. You’re simply following the rules of other people
and trying to imitate what other people like and look like. There’s no risk
being taken. So where’s the fun? I wouldn’t call myself cool and I wouldn’t call
myself a geek. I’d just prefer to be uncool or noncool. It’s more pleasing to
be an original than it is to be hip. As Huey Lewis and the News once eloquently
stated in a great 80’s song, “it’s hip to be square”.
I
have nothing else to do but make art. I want the attention because I don’t have
a strong social life. So I put myself on display through my images and sounds.
It’s the best way for me to communicate my deepest self and inner creativity. I
pray through my art! I pray in surrealistic praise poems of glory, doom,
desperation, and ecstasy. They have my emotions in the forms of dreams. My God,
it makes me feel so good and so bad to make art. It requires such dedication
that my personality turns into a recluse and I work and slave on what I feel so
passionately about. It’s an art trap, a suicide celebration in colors and
fantasies. I get lost in it as I drift away into memories that didn’t exist
because I make them all up because I was bored to tears. God save me. Not quite…
great art saves me. God is in the artwork for it comforts people
as well as myself. It is the scriptures of Saint Salvador Dali,
What if every single person wrote an autobiography of
their life and published it on the market? Who would be all that interested
when the world is flooded with tales of each person’s life?!? People
would cease to care about one another after a while. 99.999% of the
autobiographies would be meaningless because they were nothing special compared
to the others. It’s like they’re living the same dull, unextraordinary lives.
And what would this apathy do to most people if they realized their life was
nothing “spectacular” or “brilliant”? Even if they committed suicide it would
be considered cliché… just another stereotypical ending to a tortured,
dull life.
“What did you accomplish at the end of the day?” This
is an extremely important question and dare that I ask to myself. Will a
shallow one-night stand relationship give my life “meaning”? Will going to
church save my soul? Will working at Taco Bell make my life worthwhile? I think
too much, I know. But I did find truth and meaning in my life through making
self-expressive art. I wouldn’t exclusively label my work “personal” either. If
it’s self-expressive, the personal can also be the universal.
“Do I Have Anything To Say?”
There
is one, great question that all sincere artists ask themselves during their
lifetime. Normally, they first ask themselves this question during their
junior or senior year of undergraduate studies when they’re focusing on their
craft and major interest of their field. That dire question: “Do I have
anything to express?” Most cynical artists will respond that everything has
been said and expressed before. “There is no new art to be made!” they exclaim
frustrated and passionately. I’ve asked myself if I have anything worthy to
express or if anyone would even want to listen or experience my artwork. For
one thing, as an artist, I can never say that there is nothing
new to be said. Yes, there is an overwhelming amount of art in the world that
repeats what has been said before. It numbs our minds and weakens our
imaginations. But all one has to do is realize that imagination is infinite,
which means art will always have something to say. One just has to have the
confidence to make it happen.
So
ask yourself: “Do you have anything important to say? Do you have anything to
live for? Do you have the patience to find out?” Hopefully, you will be able to
find out that art has the answers.
“It's time to let your imagination run wild. Take a
look. Now pretend there is no horizon." -From Fantastic Four #571.
Yet,
there is one area that I have chosen to explore that has barely been glimpsed:
the subconscious mind. Dreams are the infinite. There is no limit to
what can be explored with dreams since they are so mysterious, alluring, and
unresolved. They are the new art. They are what shape my life and my artwork.
Emotions are the glue that keeps dreams together and the oil that keeps them
coming. Surrealism and Expressionism are the modes one can investigate these
areas - be it video, computer animation, photography, painting, sculpture, or
new technology.
Looking Past the “Self-Indulgent” Surface and Finding One’s
Own Expression
My
artwork is about personal expression, which tends to make much of the subject
matter about me and my reactions to living. Because my artwork is about me does
not mean that it is about ego or
self-indulgence. I despise when people are unable to separate self-expression
from ego. They can’t see past the surface. The viewer’s empathy and emotional
connection is what makes someone’s personal art their own self-portrait. That is what art is for, at least, personally
speaking. The interactivity further connects the artist with the audience/
interactee by allowing them to alter, manipulate, change, and advance the art.
I
have a great deal of empathy for Vincent van Gogh for creating self-portraits.
Even our initial reasons for making art out of our images was alike. He knew it
was difficult to find models, so he used himself to try out different styles.
Yet there was also some emotional self-exploration in them. He was fascinated
by how his work represented the different stages and emotions in his life.
Artistic Progression
I
am glad that I had to work and learn how to be creative by getting in touch
with my emotional state and channeling it in artistic mediums. I had taken
years of art classes just like everyone else and had developed just like
everyone else. I grew increasingly discouraged that my work didn’t seem any
different than my peers. Out of a blind need for catharsis, I started
expressing my emotions through various art projects I had to do in the
following months. That began my journey into creating art that meant something
to me... and, hopefully, to others who also empathized with its content and
feelings.
War is a desperate artistic act of the
utmost expression. To give your life and sacrifice everything you are for a
cause, an idea, an expression, a love, and a feeling. Like Neil Young ever so
sardonically wrote in his song “Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black)” that “It’s
better to burn out than fade away”, the artist creating art goes out in a burst
of glorious brilliance and self-destruction/ self-implosion. Then you look back
and wonder if the creativity was worth it. You screamed and cried and wailed
and prayed on your battlefield of the canvas. It’s ultimately a desperate,
impossible situation – but still we artists persevere and prevail.
Most
of my art portrays the emotional battlefields of myself, a good man at war with
himself. My art is about the comfort of self-examination. To rediscover a
child’s sense of play in art.
Drawbacks to Being Creative
If
you are a creative individual, you may find your social life to be not so
simple. People will assume that you are self-centered, eccentric, full of
yourself, an outcast, a show-off, pretentious, and vain (sometimes rightfully
so). People will believe that you will consider them inferior. But the truth of
the matter is that I have to view people in two different categories: one as
creative artists, the other as good people. One must understand the difference
between the two - and respect both.
I
sometimes prefer Picasso to my family. Often I’d rather spend my time
expressing myself. You may have the mindset of being “a legend only in one’s
own mind”. And if you are good, your closest friends and peers will envy you,
discourage you, worship you, and hate you. It’s a rough, rough path.
You
will also find yourself in the situation of wanting to be creative all the time in order to stay creative.
The workload and dedication can heavily burden one’s social life, family life,
and love life. Being creative may be extraordinary, yet one is not protected
from unhappiness that can stem from one’s own gifts.
Ironically, now that I look back at it, I have been
extremely fortunate to have been single through parts of my twenties for it
allowed me the time and concentration to focus on being a creative person. I
was able to work on and finished dozens of art projects while having time to
keep an extensive journal, watch great movies, listen to inspired music, and
work on side projects involving various diverse techniques such as digital
photography, computer animation, digital compositing, sound design, digital
imaging, and digital video. Most people, even most aspiring artists, lose touch
with their creative idealistic spark during those crucial years. People get
married, have children, and often get weighed down by those outside pressures.
It’s true that the stress of providing for one’s family could prove fruitful to
jump-starting one’s creative momentum, but oftentimes it leaves one high and
dry. Sometimes finding love and happiness too soon in one’s life can halt one’s
own yearning for creative fulfillment.
When
you’re single, lonely, celibate, and alone, you’ve really got something to
prove – and the time to do so. Your work and your art becomes your wife
and your life. People find themselves in their twenties. They find out what
they can achieve, what they can dream, and what dreams they can make real.
The wife and kids can come later in life. But when you’re single in your
twenties, you have the energy to aspire and achieve. Don’t waste it on too many
women, drugs, sex, and drink. Channel it into something fruitful. Dreams need
life. Use your own and give.
Your
enthusiasm will guide you, yet you may feel alienated in a world where
“everyone” has moved on with their lives. You’re the only dreamer around. Well,
let me just say now that that’s all part of the journey. The isolation is part
of being a dreamer and artist. Some people dream, but others dream and actually
create something meaningful. That’s the difference between you and the rest.
You worked harder than the rest when you had the chance to in your twenties.
And it’s a great feeling to have produced something worthwhile when you
had the chance.
Sacrificing
for Our Art
For
the Roman Polanski movie The Pianist, Adrian Broody sold all his
possessions and lost touch with many of his friends before he went off to play
this role. He starved himself and lost 30 pounds. He gave up the music he
normally listened to and learned to play the piano. Robert DeNero did similar
extreme preparations before he took on a movie role. I do similar artistic
emotional swings as an artist. These are ordinary eccentricities. We
sacrifice for our art.
“Suicidal” Aspirations for Art
To
explore emotional and artistic boundaries is to attempt suicide. I’ve been
letting my emotions kill me. I’m an artist - I express that. I’m a failure - I
let myself see that. Just because it is personal doesn’t make it good or
important to anyone else - unless you are significant and popular. There are people
just like me writing the same words... wondering, “How do I make it that much
better?” My art is about me risking
my life to accomplish a meaning to it. I risk my sanity, my family, my
significant other, and my financial situation.... I’m doing everything I can to
make it work.
Though I’ve thought about it and I do feel “down” sometimes, I’ve never actually
attempted suicide in my life. I’ve
never slit open my wrists and watched the blood drain out because life sucks. I
never hung from a rope in my bedroom because of love. I’ve never locked myself
in a garage with the car running because of problems at school. I’m surrounded
by artist friends and colleagues who have. I’ve only
tried to “kill myself” through doing art. It’s all in emotional sacrifice. I’ve
had the emotions of one that is suicidal – that is so desperate to let go of
life that one must purge oneself of the feelings he feels. That is where art
comes in. I exorcise the demons in order to rid myself of them. In a way, it’s
like committing suicide to those feelings. It’s clearing oneself of the pain.
But it could also be like the opposite of suicide, which is confronting one’s
emotions and problems through channeling a sense of reason and understanding.
Perhaps, that’s part of the journey of being an artist – traveling through the
darkness to reach the light on the other side. Let the night wash away and
greet the new morning. Some art can be greatly beneficial in its honesty and
compassion. Art is meant to heal, even if it’s ugly. It’s raw, ravaged,
righteous, and real. There’s peace in art – a finality, a solution, a
resolution, a conclusion, a contradiction, or even a confession. Through
experiencing hell, one can find heaven on the other side. Art is one such
pathway. It’s also a safer, wiser route to go rather than suicide.
“Creating Art on a Natural Emotional High”
In
response to those people who believe my artwork is produced because of drugs, I
feel that the sheer wealth of work speaks for itself. There’s no way possible
that I could have created so much art if I was on any drug what-so-ever. It
shows that I didn’t have many distractions that forced me from not getting the
work done. Yes, my work is surreal - but that doesn’t mean it’s drug-inspired.
“Druggy”, yes. I don’t believe in using drugs or alcohol to inspire myself.
Life itself is enough inspiration and insanity for me to work off from. Through
the years, I grew into having a “natural high” from the accumulation of my life
and art experiences. My body’s metabolism can’t handle drugs, let alone a few
drinks. So I feel blessed that I can keep making art without having to resort
to other chemical dependencies to stay “creative”.
Once
again, I manage to create a great amount of work by being fueled by music
playing in the background or on headphones. I also work much harder when I’m
hungry, which psychologically provokes me along.
“They
never face the reality of drugs. They’re not looking at the cause of the
drug problem. Why is everybody taking drugs? To escape from what? Is
life so terrible? Do we live in such a terrible situation that we can’t do
anything about it without reinforcement from alcohol or tobacco or sleeping
pills? I’m not preaching about ‘em. I’m just saying a drug is a drug, you know.
Why we take them is important, not who’s selling it to whom on the corner.”
–John Lennon.
Escapism is a drug. Life is too dull without
imagination. That is why we have to look for a temporary way out. Life
can be good sometimes. But sometimes it can be so very, very bad. And there are
many various methods to escape from reality. Take into account why people take
drugs? Or what makes a nymphomaniac addicted to orgasms? Or a movie buff want
to watch three movies a day (on average), 365 days a year? Or a lonely
housewife who reads romance novels obsessively? We all like the high it
gives us. We want to feel what it was like when we were children and the world
was fresh and new. There lies a key difficulty to being an adult – life gets
repetitious and boring. We have to keep ourselves entertained, enlightened, and
exciting. For example, remember when you first say a zebra for the first time
at a zoo? You were in wild-eyed awe. Yet once you’ve been to the zoo multiple
times, the animals are not all that mind-blowing. We miss and long for the
feeling of the highs we once felt. As we grow older, we look for artificial
methods of mental, emotional, and physical stimulation. We’re bored and numb,
so some people take drugs (pot, cocaine, ecstasy). Some play board games and
puzzles. Some screw and have children to distract themselves. Some make art to
keep in exercise the brain’s creative capacities. So look to God and pray in a
holy place every day. We’re all relatively in the same boat together – each one
of us “guilty” of escaping from the trials of existence. Some are healthier ways
of escaping than others; others are more self-destructive than helpful. Yet
each way is connected in wanting to find a way to feel something great
again. We all want to feel good. It’s up to each one of us to find which
route will lead to true happiness. (Hint: it don’t come easy.)
Music is much better than drugs. You don’t come down. Music
is fulfilling… the next day you feel better. Drugs, the next day you feel
terrible – unless you have more drugs.” –Neil Young.
Problems with Selling
Your Artwork
One of my biggest pet peeves with making video art or
documentaries is very few people will wish to see it unless there is some sort
of critical acclaim, hype, or controversy surrounding it. People don’t care
about any random video work if they don’t have someone telling them why they
should care about it. There are simply tens, if not hundreds of thousands of
movies out there competing for your precious time to view them. Only a select
few will make the cut. What pains me about this so much is that I personally
put so many hours of energy, passion, determination, and imagination into many
of the works that I’ve done – and yet they are never or rarely ever watched.
For example, you have to have a “name” in order to sell your work. If one of my
pieces was “by Steven Spielberg” or “by George Lucas”, I’d immediately get an
audience for my work. Yet if it reads “by Eric Homan”, no one cares… even if it
is any good, if not exceptional or possibly even emotionally cathartic. And yet
I wish I was actually getting some recognition for my labor and tears rather
than complaining about it. I truly do. But I know how hard it is to make yourself
noticed nowadays. Even those who try so hard to be notorious or controversial
are now looking tired and dull because there are so many who have. In a way,
this is a great challenging device to make us artists dream up new ways to make
ourselves more impressive and ambitious. Yet I feel that we have also swamped
ourselves with so many movies being out there that we are no longer able to
fill a niche in the market. Anyone can make a movie nowadays. That hurts
professionals greatly who want to be respected for the hard work and discipline
for their craft. Yet if anyone with a video camera can make “movies”, it makes
the artists look less prestigious. Of course, there are movies, and there are
“good movies”, which both amateurs and professionals make. Still, the problem
still cries out: how do I make people care anymore? It makes me think about
going to extremes. (Does someone have to kill thousands of people to make
society actually look at your art?
The media does celebrate serial killers and broadcasts their lives in detail
for the mass audience.)
My Future Goals
As always, I feel that I am always learning. Humbly,
I am a student for the rest of my life and will always continue to learn new
things about the industry that we work within Media Studies and the computer
arts world. Because things are always changing, I have to change with them. It
can be overwhelming, but also extremely exciting and new. It makes my job fresh
and stimulating in the years to come. It will never be the same old thing.
My latest pursuit and struggled regarding my artwork
is to make it commercially viable as well as artistically whole. I am
discouraged with the fact that much of my work is strong on content, but its
audience is limited because it doesn’t have a dumbed down, cliché storyline
that society seems to expect so they follow it easier without thinking. Of
course, that is a harsh cynical view, and society does want something fresh and
new to excite them. It’s just a matter of merging commercial sensibilities with
creative vision.
“What Dreams May Come”
As
an artist who continually experiments with the computer in order to remain
interested in art and technology, I don’t always know where I am going next
with my artwork. In most cases I cannot entirely explain what my work is going
to be about until I am completely done with it. No one can never fully
understand one’s own creations. Also, since I often deal with the subconscious
mind, I never know exactly where the experience will lead me. I suppose that’s
part of the fun of it. Dreams have multiple meanings. Each individual person
and artist has to determine for themselves what they mean to them.
“For No One”
6-11-08: I was
thinking about some of my writing work and Director interactive art work and
kept thinking about how much of my life that will probably never reach another
human being. My work will be forgotten when I die. And I feel that I’ve been
accepting that fact for the past few years. It destroys the ego from getting
too large – that is for certain. I’ll need to assemble my video work all onto a
retrospective DVD sardonically entitled: “For No One”.
Catch-22 of
Movie-Making
11-26-08: The sad
state of movies these days has gotten to the point of being a total Catch-22.
You can’t do anything too different or experimental, or else your film won’t be
commercial enough to make any real money. Then again, if you do make a film
that is formulaic and conventional, it’s just one of millions out there that
may make some money, but not make any difference. My own personal video art
pieces mean something to me. And I feel that they mean something to others as
well. Yet because they don’t have any
The Effects on an
Artist After Getting Marriage
2-5-09: After I
got married, I feel like my artistic ambitions have taken a backseat to living
a “happy, normal life”. And sure enough, I have been much happier than I’ve
been in years… decades. Yet, as an
after effect, I don’t have the creative drive I once had. I’ve spent most of my
free time collecting comics and watching movies. It’s what gives me some degree
of joy and fills up my days, freeing me from severe boredom.
Yet there is one thing I haven’t mentioned yet: being
a real passionate artist is a
dangerous profession. You give too much of yourself to your art and you suffer
through feeling too much emotion. You learn to express yourself through your
sensitivity to the world around you that the majority of people have gotten
numb or oblivious to. Yet for an artist, it is often too much to handle and
take in… this crazy world of humans. Expressing the depths of the human
condition and the extremes of emotion is to burn yourself out too quickly. And
there is only so much loneliness one can take before you start to consider
suicide as a solution and escape from these internal, conflicted feelings. I feel good now because I’m
not as “deep” into myself as I was in order to function as an ambitious,
obsessive artist. And thankfully, I have nearly a decade of work to go back on
to expand upon if there is a time where I need to recreate more work. I have
that to thank for. I feel a small amount of regret about not spending all of my time working on my artwork
like I used to when I was single and focused solely on expressing myself
through personal art. Yet, as the Neil Young song says, “there’s comes a time,
feelings lifting… lift that baby right up off the ground.” Next stop will be
parenthood after marriage. It’s the next big “art piece”… in a matter of
speaking in terms of creation and
self-expression.
Alas, My Personal
Life Wins Over My Artistic/ Emotional Life
2-20-09:
I have to admit that I was feeling something rather unnerving within me this
Friday evening: I was losing my urgency to do any sort of artwork. I suppose
this is what it means to be an “adult”. I did make a conscious decision to pay
more attention to having a personal life than having an art life that wasn’t
getting any notice or recognition. The artist way of life was indeed killing me
slowly. Yet I can’t deny the addiction to it. How beautiful it was to be filled
with listening to great music while making something so unique, original, and
creative that it gave me such a high.
It’s impossible not to miss that grand joy. Yet now, I’ve traded in my
suffering that I used so well for artistic fuel and have gotten married. The
depression has diminished greatly since my loneliness isn’t there as much
anymore. And that’s a pretty great feeling. But ultimately, I had to make the
selfish decision to save myself by finding love
rather than the ultimate creative and emotional artwork expression. I chose a
woman to keep me comfort. Years ago, I suppose I raged through creating art
because I wanted a woman in my life. Now that I’ve got a woman, that urgency
just isn’t there anymore. I don’t have to “prove” myself to anyone. I can’t
deny how calm and relaxing that feels. Yet that high… that creative high.
And
I actually have physical and emotional difficulty doing “art for art’s sake”
nowadays. If it isn’t going to make me money to help me live on, why on earth
am I doing this for?!?? It’s totally illogical and ultimately 99.99% of the
women on the planet find that behavior highly dysfunctional and repulsive. Money
talks, they say. It took me almost ten years to finally listen.
Is It All Worth It?
5-16-09: While
walking back to CCAD with Kon after the CCAD graduation ceremony, Kon asked
what summer projects I was thinking of doing. I mentioned about capturing a
bunch of old video footage that I had from years ago. Kon confessed that he
wanted to start a new personal project as well. But why? No one really is going
to see it outside of a film festival, and that’s if you’re lucky. You do it because you love
doing the art. Video is such a strange medium to create art and
self-expression in because people only see it in terms of commercial films and
narrative movies. There’s just a whole other aspect to it for anyone to
explore, which can be non-narrative, experimental, or personal. The problem is
how to get the average person interested and
excited about your work. Most people are now so conditioned to the same old routine
and cliché storylines being retold over and over again that they don't know how
to react when something original is shown to them. It's almost too alien, different, and unique for them to
enjoy. But Kon brought up a valid point: you put in so much hard work into
something that very, very few people will even see… if anyone. You put your
soul into a video. Yet if it’s not the newest big thing in HD with a
controversial gimmick that's won numerous festival awards and features a
big-name Hollywood star, it’s really not worth looking at. It’s too Standard.
Encountering Someone
Else Who’s Made the Same Movie You Did
8-8-09: I also
witnessed something truly scary: someone had made a documentary on an idea that
I’ve been working on for decades: a movie about a small western
The Perils of Small
Independent Filmmaking
8-8-09: It’s
incredibly depressing to learn that there are others out there who have the
same sensibilities as I. It’s like I’m competing against myself! Oh, you come
from a small town and have big movie dreams and passions, too!?! And we live in
a competitive industry. Someone has to lose. I’ve always found that to be
extremely disheartening about the creative arts business. There’s sometimes too
many of us who are alike. It’s odd to meet others like you with similar
interests. At one point you like them. But then you realize they’re your
competition as well. So there’s a mixed emotional experience to it. We’re also
competitive about what type of expensive video camera you’ve got. It’s like
they think the type camera you’ve got depends on how good your movie is going
to be. That’s only a portion of it! You’ve still got to have real, strong,
interesting content. Yet the first
thing they often talk about is cameras.
We’re
also all neurotic because we’re in a business that thrives on passion more than
money. We do what we do because we love it. Yet our small independent movies
are rarely shown or exhibited. They don’t get the advertizing that
I'm an Eccentric and
an Artist Because…
10-10-09: I'm an eccentric and an artist because I'm
so bored with my existence… with life… with reality. My mind's gone a bit crazy
from a lack of anything… stimulating.
So I strive to be and act different. That's the bottom line: I'm bored. I'm bored with life. I want more out of life. Isn't that part of the
reason why most artists create?! I am not satisfied with the way the world is.
Therefore, I have to make up my own worlds, often in my imagination and
expressed into my artwork. Being an artist defines who I am in this existence:
an adventurer into the 5th dimension: imagination.
Contemplating How
Fast Life Gets After 30
10-28-09: The days seem to go faster as we
collectively grow older because life feels repetitious. You have to deal with
the same old challenges and stresses. We have our daily schedule of going to
work each day. We go to sleep at night. We fall into our routines to save us
time. We lose our excitement for life because we try to make our lives “busy”
with things to do. But they’re really not that unique. We go through the motions of predictable family holidays.
Life becomes a blur of activities. The longer you live, the less
energy you have. Only making art seems to “mix things up a bit”. This explains
my general eccentricity towards being alive. I want to make it more fun and
creative and different than it is.
Yet I’m a bit worried that life is now on cruise-control. It’s no wonder people
say that life goes by in the blink of an eye once you hit your thirties. You
get the wife, the kids, and the next thing you know you’re retired and then
dead. Where did your life go? Was making a “safe” life really that good? Is it
better to live in chaos of not knowing what tomorrow will bring?!
No Way to L.A. - "Say Goodbye to Hollywood"
12-27-09: All I've got to say is that I thank God I
never moved out to L.A. It would be a great place to live if you're dumb,
superficial, and like being a phony. If the price is right, you too can sell
your integrity to a movie executive or music mogul. It's all about selling out,
doing what someone else wants you to produce (not your own personal work). In
fact, Hollywood is anti-personal filmmaking. And if they love you one minute,
they spit you out the next. It's all about making money to them. It's that
superficial. It's all make-up and Botox. They all want you to be crowd-pleasing
and young forever.
The Blur
3-30-10: I cannot deny the endless flow of the days.
Once you get a job and get into its rhythm, I lose yourself and simply grow
older. The days and weeks and months blur together. You fulfill a duty. You do
it well and you work hard and you like what you do – sometimes. Yet the days…
they just blend together. Some days are busy; some days are slow. Some days are
bright; some days are shit. It’s a roller coaster ride of emotional peaks and
valleys. Real ups and real downs. Then during my times off from work, I fill my
life with movies, music, comics, making art, video editing, and taking
photographs. And as the days pass, I've found that I've got less and less time
to do these extracurricular activities. The days just merge together.
"I Love Growing
Old"
4-10-10: The great irony of myself growing old is how
much I appreciate getting older. Most
people see things the opposite way. They see their teenage years as the best
years of their life. I did not. I had such shitty and depressing teenage years
of being teased publically and having little personal freedom. And my twenties
were fueled by immense amounts of stress and uncertainty. They were not happy
times, to put it bluntly. So to be married now with a house in a good part of
town and to have a steady full-time job that I enjoy… it’s just ridiculously
nice. In fact, I sometimes wonder if it’s all an illusion. I went through such
years of damning and damaging depression and despair. I’d never want to go
through those years again. Now that I’m older, I feel like I’ve made my way out
of a fog I was literally drowning in. Sure, there are some things that I miss
about being young: the energy, the high metabolism, the newness of everything.
Yet none of that matters unless you’re happy. And I only found a certain degree
of happiness by growing older.
I Don't Want to Be
Normal
4-3-10: "I don't want to be normal." That
simple phrase has dictated most of my life. I grew up an outcast, bullied by
normals and jocks who grew up to be just average, and yearned to make something
magnificent out of my life as a result of all the misery I lived through. It's
no wonder I've aspired to be more than "normal". I wanted to see the
world in a whole new different way. So as part of my quest for artistic and
creative "brilliance", I found myself becoming more and more
naturally eccentric, quirky, and weird. It was the only way to become more
original. I couldn’t imagine anything more horrific and depressing than being
average. I wanted to express dreams that no one else could articulate. I worked
so very hard to be a great artist and dreamer. So doing the things that normal
people do - going to a baseball game, watching football, having a barbecue,
raising some kids, I wanted no part in them.
Be a Normal
4-3-10: …At least for a while, I didn't. The
isolation of wanting to be so unique and "interesting" as an escape
from being normal ended up being a double-edged sword. I fulfilled making great
dreams with some fantastic artwork and writings. Yet along the way, I paid a
price. I lost my connection with the human race. I hated being a domestic
suburbanite until I realized that being "normal" was what was going
to save me from crippling depression brought on by severe loneliness and
alienation. I had to settle down. I had to be normal or else I wouldn’t survive
this life. And being so unique just wouldn't be all that special when you're
too depressed to enjoy it. Sure, I made myself in a fine artist (though
unnoticed). My artwork shows I paid an emotional price. The creativity is on
exhibit. Yet I had to come back down to earth to be… a real human being. I
needed to be somewhat "normal" in order to find some balance to my
life. Being like others began a healing process that was as cathartic as making
personal art. It took me a long time to realize that. I had to accept that
being the "greatest" meant ultimate loneliness. And I just didn't
feel that prize was worth it. I had to realize that my own youthful, angsty
restlessness was killing me… slowly. And I had to slow down and get back to
earth. Be part of the rest of the world. Be a normal.
Why Even Make Art
Anymore in Your Mid-Thirties?!? (Another Pre Mid-Life Crisis)
10-19-10: Sometimes
there’s little financial
benefit beyond having a joy of doing what you do
when you’re in the arts. It’s something I’m passionate about. But there’s
little to NO guarantee that others will care. And from what I’ve seen,
Hollywood movie products are what’s making money, not creativity-driven works
of art. The only way to continue making art is to just make art for yourself
without regard for profit or recognition. It’s basically how I’ve been able to
keep going for all these years. I just don’t care. Until I lose my full-time
teaching job, I can keep making my own personal art pieces. If I were working
in a commercial video/ motion graphics/ animation job, I probably wouldn’t be
doing anything art related. I’d be too exhausted and creatively drained at the
end of the day. You need the free time to be able to feed your need to express
yourself. You don’t have the time, you can’t get the art work done. My creative
drive would be burnt-out. I’d be like an extinguished candle that used to burn
oh so brightly in many different colors. I do envy my students sometimes.
They’ve got so much time to make their art. They don’t have the outside
responsibilities that comes with holding a full-time job, having a personal
life, getting married, and raising a family. It’s simply one too many tasks to
take on and juggle. Eventually, art does feel a bit like an expendable “hobby”
that one could drop. Once you get comfortable, have enough money, and a stable
standard of living, why would you keep making art? Why even make art anymore in
your mid-thirties?!? Is it a sign of immaturity? Am I acting childish by still
doing personal art projects? Should I instead be taking on another freelance
job assignment? Yet I don’t because I still feel I am creative and have more to
express through my video artwork. I don’t care that other may not care for it.
It’s as long as I care for it. If I
cared about what other people think about my artwork, I’d probably go insane or
numb from trying to please too many groups of people. And some of them simply
cannot be reached or touched. They’re too far gone, too cynical, too “adult”. They
don’t want to experience anything new, exciting, different, personal,
emotional, extraordinary, or unusual. They’re rather watch something safe and
conservative like CG-animated talking animal movies for the 5,000th
time. I want more. I still do at age 34 and as an expecting father. I’m an
artist for life, broken or unbroken, broke or financially comfortable.
Slowing Down - Not As Much Time, Energy or Drive Anymore
11-4-10: One thing I have taken sad, but mature
notice of this semester is that I haven’t had as much time for my artwork
anymore. I’m simply too busy with teaching, grading, prepping for class,
writing up notes, learning new information, reading and emailing students, and
being a student advisor. I’m too exhausted by the time I get home to get
focused enough to start a video project. And that leaves me feeling a bit
creatively frustrated and suppressed. I used to be able to always release my
emotions and imagination through my art throughout my twenties. Now in my mid
thirties, I’ve become a true educator and professional. And that’s a good
thing. It’s something to achieve for – the betterment of one’s self in one’s
picked profession. Yet because I’m working that much harder at my job, I’m
sacrificing my time, energy, focus, and drive that used to go towards making
art. Or maybe as I’ve grown older, I’m getting more sedate and “calm”. The
urgency just isn’t quite there as it used to be. Maybe I’m just happier and I
don’t “need” to make personal art
anymore, especially since it hasn’t really been making me any money. (Freelance
work-for-hire was the only way for additional income. And keeping up my
software skills was a beneficial side effect for making art.) I guess I’m
slowing down… getting old. I’m about to become a father and my time will be
even thinner than ever before. How will I fit in being an artist anymore?
Music and Art Are
"Just Entertainment"?!??!!
3-31-11: I am
also deeply upset from reading an ugly blog comment about firing all public
school teachers because they cost too much taxpayer money. They especially
signaled out music and art (as well as physical education and sports) teachers
because they don’t reach “real education”. Music and art are “just
entertainment”. I took huge offence to that assumption! “Just entertainment”?!??
Apparently, this is from someone whose only musical knowledge is from watching
“American Idol”. In my opinion, art and music are arguably the most important
classes a human being should be exposed to and experience. We live in an ever
increasingly insane world. How do we as human beings relieve our stress? Learn
more math and science? No. It’s through making art and music. You don’t even
have to be “good” at it either. You just have to be able to learn how to allow yourself to express your feelings,
ideas, dreams, and visions. It’s all about becoming a good communicator and how
to express one’s inner ideas and feelings. It’s the fine art of
self-expression. And through these crucial abilities, one can learn how to
better articulate their critical thinking skills and how to express more of
their inner creativity – if they’re open to utilizing it. Imagine if those
killers at Columbine had more art classes and had been able to constructively
release their emotions rather than bottling them all up? Would that have
stopped a tragedy from happening? So music and art are not “just
entertainment”. They are as important as breathing to some of us. Rather than
putting the world on more and more anti-depressants and medication, how about
getting our kids and young adults into more creative arts classes and let them
learn how to express themselves. They need to use both their right and left
sides of their brain. Both are equally important in the real world. They’re
ying and yang with one another.
We All Want to Be the
Dream of Superheroes
4-4-11: It's no
wonder adolescents through middle-aged men find themselves continually drain to
reading superhero comic books. It's about people with super powers who can do
wonderful, amazing, incredible, spectacular, and mighty things. It empowers the
reader by experiencing that world of marvels. Yet when you're not dreaming, you
lose your superpowers. You're no longer like a superhero. You're just an
ordinary human being. The same thing goes with being an artist. You have the ability
to dream such amazing dreams and create such extraordinary visions. Yet what
happens when you run out of inspiration? You're powerless. Or how badly you
feel when you wait up in the morning after having had such a great dream. Boom.
You're back to reality. You're affected by gravity and all its laws of the
elements. You've lost your powers to be more. I suppose that's the reason why
people continue to dream. They want to be more than what they already are or
what they were given when they entered this life. They want to make something
out of themselves. They want to aspire, to inspire, to do good. In a sense,
they also want to be comic book superheroes… more or less without the spandex
and tights, dependent if you're going into the athletic field (track, ice
skating, football, bob-sledding).
My Present Tense Goals
Everyday, I feel a need to continue creating expressive
work that is meaningful and fresh to others and myself. I want to keep
exploring creativity to be able to live my life through new ideas and new
emotions. Digital technology is my artistic medium of choice because of its
unknown potential as a new artistic frontier that is still growing and
emerging. The fact that I can still creatively help explore and envision with
and in digital technology is one of the reasons why I quickly became dedicated
and engrossed in it. I was able to translate my ideas and emotions for the
first time in a way that has been personally satisfying. Also, I’ve been able
to get acquainted with enough software to work efficiently and fluidly to
express my thoughts, visions, and emotions. Being able to combine vibrant
digital colors, photography, and other mediums in Photoshop and Painter has
inspired me to create work that can be my own worlds. With Director, I’ve been
able to orchestrate my images and sound into interactive experiential movies
that actively address and involve an interactee. With computer animation, my
images have become three-dimensional environments with symbolic characters
breathing, moving, and inhabiting within them.
Teaching
computer art students at a college allows me an exciting chance to enhance my
skills, discover new mediums, and keep me exploring technology and myself. I am
constantly working for originality and self-expression. This was what I want
most of out of life. The electronic arts are the route I see myself achieving a
sense of purpose and expression throughout my life span. This is my present
tense goals – my lifetime goals.
Random Quotes
“Art Is How I Deal with Reality. I
Make a Visual Game Out of It.”
“Where Is the Future If All Artists Do Is Repeat the
Past?”
Sorta Says It All, Doesn't It?
11-7-10: "Listen
up and I'll tell a story about an artist growing old. Some would try for fame
and glory. Others aren't so bold. Everyone, and friends and family saying,
"Hey! Get a job!" "Why do you only do that only? Why are you so
odd? We don't really like what you do. We don't think anyone ever will. It's a
problem that you have, and this problem's made you ill." Listen up and
I'll tell a story about an artist growing old. Some would try for fame and
glory. Others aren't so bold. The artist walks alone. Someone says behind his
back, "He's got his gall to call himself that! He doesn't even know where
he's at!" The artist walks among the flowers appreciating the sun. He does
this all his waking hours. But is it really so wrong? They sit in front of their
TV saying, "Hey! This is fun!" And they laugh at the artist saying,
"He doesn't know how to have fun." The best things in life are truly
free, singing birds and laughing bees. "You've got me wrong", says
he. "The sun don't shine in your TV." Listen up and I'll tell a story
about an artist growing old." -"Story
of an Artist" by Daniel Johnston.
A Rich Man of Dreams
3-19-11: It
doesn’t matter if you don’t have a lot of money for extravagant, rich people
vacations. I may always be middle-class and be on a budget for the rest of my
life. Yet my dreams… that’s another story. When I go to sleep at night, I go to
such marvelous adventures. I live THE LIFE of such wonder and sensual delights.
I’ve experienced vacation trips around the world that would have cost millions
of dollars in the real world. Yet in my dreams when I am asleep, I am no longer
middle-class. I am a wealthy man when I dream. I’ve been to France, Africa,
India, even Mars and its moons! It doesn’t matter that these dreams aren’t
“real”. After all, there’s a thin line separating dreams and memories. Each of
them fade in time. So you must excuse me. I wish to get back to sleep. It’s
almost midnight and I’ve got a date at the top of the World Trade Center
restaurant. (It’s still stands in my dreams.) And then afterwards, I’ve got an
orgy to go to with a legion of $10,000 an hour “female escorts”. What a “life”!
What a dream!
The Down Side of
Teaching
4-4-11: God,
grant me students who don’t unload their crazy personal issues upon me in mass
throughout class again. I really don’t need to hear any more of their sob
stories of depressed, suicidal, emotionally-neglected adult boys and girls
again. Samples from today's Video I class: "My video camera was either
stolen or a misplaced it."…"My external hard drive with all my work
on it is soaked since I had it in my backpack and it was pouring
outside!"… “Mommy and daddy didn’t love me enough”… “ My roommate smokes
pot and it’s too much to deal with. My asthma is killing me. And I don’t know
if I can come back for next semester. And my depression is kicking in extra
this weekend and right now….” It’s an endless supply of whiny crap. And it
utterly drains me as a teacher.
There’s all this talk of “merit raises” for those who are excellent teachers. I
know I’m a good teacher. But I can’t help all of these students who have bad,
negative attitudes. There’s just some students who you can’t get through no matter
how much work you put into them. And their poor performance drives down the
class and the school. And it’s all because of us “bad teachers”. Bullshit!
Their negativity is infectious and poisonous. It brings me down, as if you
can’t tell by these very words. You try and help out these students and they
call your comments “stupid”. If I offer critical or constructive advice, I am
called a “hater” and an “a-hole”. Well, forget them.
My Deepest Sympathy
for Psychiatrists
4-4-11: I can
also understand why psychiatrists make so much money. Listening to depressed
people is the equivalent of psychological torture. If you care too deeply for
these people and have sensitive emotions like mine, you'll find yourself down
in a hole with them. Your empathy might just kill you from feeling too much of their self-serving pain. Too
many problems can make you feel like you're drowning right along with them.
Their depression can be like swimming in a toxic pool. It's no wonder that
psychiatrists act so emotionally detached to their patients. If you feel too
much for what they're going through, you might just want to kill yourself as
well. So you have no choice but to feel as little as possible.
The Domestic
Lifestyle Has Finally Caught Up with Me
5-4-11: I had a student, Sean, talk to me about how
he's felt happier than he's ever been now that he's older. I completely agreed.
We also acknowledged how much faster time seems to go now that we're older. The
days just blend together and it's over in a flash. It sort of has to do with
the repetition of one's daily routines. They all just blend together. Yet with
that numbness comes a certain degree of happiness. Ironic, isn't it? We're both
slowing down. I'm becoming more domestic and adapt to not doing so much
artwork, though I do try to do some degree of "creative work" every
day, whether it be journal-editing or video editing. I'm becoming more
professional and mature. I'm growing up… just many, many years late. It's the
"real artist" in me that kept me from growing up for so long.
What Am I Good At?
7-14-11: Everyone has to pose a prominent, almost
existential question to oneself in their adulthood: "What am I good
at?" I can easily answer that question: I am highly creative and
imaginative. I can make up new ideas and express them into my artwork. And for
the past 16 years, I've built up quite an impressive portfolio of artwork
expressing and proving my creativity. Yet there's one major flaw: there's
little to no money to just being creative.
What's the point to coming up with a phrase like "The Woman Jesus"
and no one cares? Hollywood has no use for originality or any weird new ideas.
Yet I still love what I do. I love coming up with fresh ideas that often pop in
my head like a beam of sunshine. There's no greater feeling than coming up with
a new concept or idea. It's the best "high" you can get. It just
makes the world feel new again. And
that's a cherished feeling. I write them down all the time and translate them
into my media artwork. It's what I'm good at. Maybe someday my ideas and
creativity will be "useful". I want to contribute to society. It just takes applying them to the right
scenario and people to gain some financial traction.