Learning to See

 

I have always been taught to value the little things.  When I was younger, my dad and I used to collect interestingly-shaped rocks.  And like my grandfather, who always comments on the Ònice contrast of colorÓ between the foods he eats, I also enjoy noting the details in the smallest things that are often overlooked. For the first thirteen years of my life, I spent an incredible amount of time looking at only details.  It wasnÕt until the seventh grade, when I got glasses to correct my nearsightedness, that I could finally see a wider scope of things.  I remember being amazed at my ability to distinguish between the individual leaves on trees, to see peopleÕs facial expressions from across the room.  At night I could actually see the stars as distinct points of light rather than foggy blurs.  However, I continue to find importance in my attention to little things, looking at them close up.  While Hopkins had to learn Òto Ôlook close,ÕÓ to see Òmany aspects of nature he had been blind to before,Ó [1] I have always looked at the world through the same eyes, in the same way; this attention to detail leads me towards the desire to create in a variety of mediums, from traditional art to design and print media.

            This desire to create has been spawned by my perception of the world around me. My vision—the way I see the world—makes up a great part of who I am. From an early age, I have been involved in artistic endeavors. I was always busy drawing pictures while watching cartoons or sketching trees in the backyard. Also, the way I think and solve problems is always visual; I find my self Òimaging: seeing an imaginary picture with [my] mindÕs eye.Ó [2] I have grown up with artistic grandparents and remember almost every trip to their house involving some sort of project, from decorating Easter eggs to doing my first oil paintings. My grandmother first explained the concept of right brain thinking to me, where Òthe right hemisphere, or Design mind, constantly thinks in complex images; it patterns to make designs of whatever it encounters, including language,Ó [3] and she loved to get me involved in anything artistic. I was constantly exposed to art through visiting museums and spending time in my grandmotherÕs studio. Through

these experiences and my innate attention to detail, I saw the world as a limitless series of artistic visions. Even at home, my father is constantly creating; he is often in his workshop building sculptures, furniture, and light fixtures. Growing up as part of this creative family has shaped the person I have and will become.

            During the beginning stages of my creativity as an elementary school artist, I remember being asked by my classmates ÒHow do you draw like that?Ó and I would answer, ÒI just draw what I see.Ó Drawing realistically from observation has always made

sense to me and is something I have done since a very young age. According to Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, ÒThe right brainÉseems to regard the thing as-it-is, at the present moment of the present; seeing things for what they simply are, in all their awesome, fascinating complexity.Ó [4] As a Sensing/Feeling person (according to the Myers/Briggs test), I Òlike to explain theory in concrete terms—audio visuals,Ó and am Òpresent oriented.Ó [5] This defines the way I approach problems, both in my learning style and the way I go about creating. Perceiving the world with all its minute details defines the way I see, the way I create. 

            It wasnÕt until high school that I found myself being pushed creatively, having to further shape my personal vision. I became involved with Yearbook, Photography, and Art classes inside and outside of school. Two of my best friends since middle school, Kate and Veronica, were always in Art with me. As we approached our senior year, and inevitably, the senior Art show, we began to worry: could we really do this? Were we satisfied with our work?  In the senior show, we had to display ten to fifteen projects, compose an artist statement and concentration, and give a lecture about individual pieces and our journeys as artists to a seemingly humongous audience.  We were stressed about having enough impressive pieces to show the entire school and started working like crazy. Together, we began taking classes from my grandmotherÕs Òart friendÓ Liz. What started as a month-long oil painting class became a large part of our lives. We continued the lessons through the school year, meeting in LizÕs upstairs studio every Saturday—a place where we could brainstorm, expand our portfolios, and work on our concentrations. My concentration, or theme for my work, centered around growth, specifically the growth from adolescence to adulthood. As I Òsuddenly grew older,Ó [6] I found most of my work reflected the struggle of saying goodbye to my childhood. Liz helped me improve my vision—she taught me how to look at the world from an artistÕs point of view, how to see both the big picture and the seemingly insignificant details.

            Sharing this growing experience with Kate and Veronica taught us to inspire each other, taught us to push ourselves. Our lessons with Liz evolved to be more than a time for art; Liz constantly reminded us of how special our friendship was, how we must keep in touch and never let our unique bond disappear. While I was learning to solidify my friendships, I also learned how to work creatively with others, to Òbounce ideasÓ off of my peers, to become stimulated by being with people.

 

While involved with traditional art—painting, drawing, and photography—I also became increasingly passionate about Yearbook in high school. The combination of writing, design, color, and photography excited me. Senior year, as editor, I was thrilled with the challenge to transform our book. After attending the Columbia Scholastic Press conference in New York City my junior year, I became dedicated to creating the best possible book. After seeing so many incredible layouts and spending time with creative individuals, I realized how much better our book could be—I wanted to take it to the next level, to push the boundaries creatively. As we looked at slides of magazine layouts at one of our classes at Columbia University, I developed an interest in the design and layout. Afterwards, each time I picked up a magazine, I wasn't just reading, I wasn't just looking at the pictures, I was picking apart the layout, looking at the fonts, brainstorming about what I could apply to our book. I will never be able to simply "flip through" a magazine again. My experience at Columbia changed the way I look at publications and gave me a desire to learn about and become involved with them for the rest of my life.

My goal is to continue to create, to tell and expand my story as I follow the road towards self-discovery. My experiences in high school, especially in Art and Yearbook, pushed me towards discovering what I want to do with my life. I want to be involved in publications because it is a way that I can combine all of my strengths—writing, art, organization, and computer graphics. This form of creativity Ò[focuses] on communication between the left and right sides of the brain,Ó [7] a communication I hope to master as I learn and grow.

Finding unity within myself, my goals, and my past shapes how I communicate with the world, and additionally, how I can find meaning in all I do. Through the process of making art, whether in a painting, photograph, or layout, I have found even the smallest part of the process contributes to the work as a whole.  According to Silverman, ÒTaken all togetherÉthe various components of a painting or a photograph contribute to the pieceÕs effect.Ó [8] For this reason, even the details have great importance; though they cannot stand alone, they are beautiful in their simplicity. Together as a unified piece, these details tell a story, the story of my journey as an artist and as a human being.

My journey as a creative individual may not directly change the world, but I know I want to use my passion to make a difference. I feel my calling in life is to continue to create, to experience the joy of making something and sharing it with others on a regular basis. This is the way in which I strive to communicate with others, to add unity to our slowly fragmenting world. When I was applying to different colleges and programs, I never considered being a flat-out Òart major.Ó I have always enjoyed drawing and painting for myself, but I realized in high school that I could never devote the rest of my life to being a traditional art student. Silly as it sounds, I feared that pursuing a fine arts degree would prevent me from gaining a secure job once I graduated. I also wanted a strong academic background in which I could learn to create and express myself beyond the art room. Thus, I found myself applying to Communications schools and wanting to get more involved with print media—art in which people can actively participate. According to Silverman, Òart resonates with us in ways other media donÕt and perhaps canÕtÉwe are visual creatures. We see millions of things every single day and in so doing rely heavily on our sight.Ó [9] I want to impact what people see every day. I hope to achieve this goal through playing a part in the creation of print media—the magazines, photographs, advertisements people see regularly, the Òthe collaboration between the talents of the two hemispheres, but in their proper sequence and in their proper interplay.Ó [10] Print media is important because print media is art. So much effort goes into making it visually attractive that it is both a science and an art form. This field of study and work excites me because of the challenges it presents—the challenge to create, to develop an idea and project it to an audience; to make people stop, look, and have an experience. As Bump says in Manual Photography: Hopkins, Ruskin, and Victorian Drawing, ÒRuskin believed ÔTo be taught to see is to gain world and thought at once.Ó [11] I hope to someday find meaning in the way I view the world—to discover myself, to be remembered, to make a difference.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Total Word Count: 1736

-Quotes: 146 words

Word Count: 1590

(10 worlds eliminated)

 

 



[1] Bump, Jerome ÒManual Photography: Hopkins, Ruskin, and Victorian Drawing.Ó in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. by Jerome Bump. (Austin: JennÕs, 2006) 586-612, p. 608.

[2] ÒDrawing on the Right Side of the Brain,Ó in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. by Jerome Bump. (Austin: JennÕs, 2006) 230-237, p. 232.

[3] ÒWriting the Natural WayÓ in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. by Jerome Bump. (Austin: JennÕs, 2006) 191-204, p. 192.

[4] ÒDrawing on the Right Side of the BrainÓ in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. by Jerome Bump. (Austin: JennÕs, 2006) 230-237, pg 231.

[5] ÒTeaching/Learning StylesÓ in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. by Jerome Bump. (Austin: JennÕs, 2006) 132-134, pg 133.

[6] Hardy, Thomas in Bump. Jude the Obscure. in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. by Jerome Bump. (Austin: JennÕs, 2006) 648-659, p. 653.

[7] ÒDualism VsÉÓ in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. by Jerome Bump. (Austin: JennÕs, 2006) p. 189.

[8] Silverman, Jonathan in Bump. The World Is a Text. in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. by Jerome Bump. (Austin: JennÕs, 2006) 238-248, p. 246.

[9] Silverman, Jonathan in Bump. The World is Text. in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. by Jerome Bump. (Austin: JennÕs, 2006) 238-248, p. 246.

[10] ÒWriting the Natural WayÓ in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. by Jerome Bump. (Austin: JennÕs, 2006) 191-204, p. 193.

[11] Bump, Jerome, ÒManual Photography: Hopkins, Ruskin, and Victorian DrawingÓ in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. by Jerome Bump. (Austin: JennÕs, 2006)_-_, p. 609.