The memory I had that I wanted to portray was moving from my hometown (as much as I have a hometown) of Vancouver to my new permanent (as much as a place is permanent for me) residence of Daytona Beach. We were on the plane, just before take off, when I spotted a snowflake on the plane window. I watched it throughout take-off until it finally melted a few thousand feet off the ground. The image of the snowflake in my mind has become symbolic of that day for me.
I used wire, glass, and glue to construct this piece. I chose the wire not only to act as an armature but also as something that would be sharp, spiky, and somewhat difficult to hold, because a snowflake is difficult to hold, as well. I chose to purposefully not make the armature even or symmetrical because I didn't want to literally evoke a snowflake. I also wanted to communicate that although I remember that moment very well in my mind, there is no way I could possibly commit to memory the intricate patterns of that particular snowflake, so I wanted to exaggerate that shortcoming of the human capacity for memory by emphasising the sculpture's imperfection through asymmetry. I also had a choice of colour for the wire that I used. I chose this particular wire partially because it seemed more workable but also sturdier than most of my other choices, but I also purposefully chose a warm colour rather than the option of blue, silver, or even purple wire to communicate the tension of a melting snowflake. Something that represents ice, when it is seen as being cold or being in a cold environment, seems more stable and less ephemeral. When something cold is seen in a warm environment, we know that it is not going to last. In this sense, the choice of yellow wire is more meaningful once you understand that the sculpture is representative of the memory of watching a snowflake melt.
I chose glass not only because crushed glass looks a lot like ice, but also for the same reason as my choice of wire: because it would be sharp and dangerous-looking and would make the viewer not want to, or maybe not even able to, hold the piece. The glass was also very difficult to adhere to the wire armature, which makes the piece very fragile. Again, much like a real snowflake, and much like memories themselves.
I originally intended for the glue to be more visible than it ended up being, because I wanted the sculptural snowflake to appear as if it were melting as the viewer 'watched' it. I thought there would be more obvious drips and coatings of glue, but most of it sunk into the gaps between glass pieces and stayed very close to the wire, so it is not as obvious.
In Progress Photos:
Again, I'm really bad at remembering to take these, so most of these were taken when the piece was near-complete. Basically, though, once I had created the armature, I place the piece on a sheet of tinfoil, poured glue on it, and started to shower it with glass shards. I had to do this in several sessions because the glue had to dry before I could rotate the armature to add glass from another angle. I kept pouring glue and glass, waiting for it to dry, and then rotating it. Gluing it, letting it dry, turning it. Because of the reflective nature of my work surface and the multitude of crushed glass, it's kind of hard to see my piece in the pictures.
In making this piece, I wanted to visually compromise between how I saw the beginning of the story and how I saw the middle to end of the story. In the beginning, I pictured cream coloured walls, medium wood, and richer accent colours. Towards the middle of the story, however, I was beginning to picture dark, dusty corners, darker, dirtier walls, dark furniture, but really muted accent colours. Wrapping these opposing visions up in one piece was challenging, but the use of watercolours lent itself really well to accomplishing this because they naturally produce lighter, but more muted colours.
As for the style of my piece, I wanted to produce furniture that was functional and believable, but still carried over an emotional sense of the story. In order to do this, I chose to make all the furniture very long and narrow. The reason for this was to produce a sense of discomfort and distance between the furniture, which is meant to accomodate a tall, narrow human, and Gregor the bug, who I saw as being very low to the ground, very wide, and rather round. Although Gregor did not interact with the bed after getting himself out of it, I imagined the effect he would have on the mattress, which would have been to dirty it and to depress it, so I experimented with mark-making on the mattress pieces and made the mattress itself lumpy and misshapen. I continued the sense of discomfort and distortion subtly by making the furniture legs different lengths. This makes it seem precarious and unsettled, which it could have seemed visually to Gregor because he was so low to the ground, but also metaphorically because he was uncertain about his future need for this furniture, not knowing whether he'd ever become human again. I wanted to elevate all of the furniture for a few reasons. This is how I pictured it based on the time period in the story, but I also wanted to make it seem like Gregor would have room to hide underneath the furniture. With the unevenness of the legs, however, he probably does not fit, adding to that discomfort because a narrowly denied pleasure tends to be more frustrating than one that has been firmly and outright denied.
The bed.
The bed is very long and narrow, and Gregor is unable to fit completely on the width of the mattress. The headboard is not meant to be representative of jail bars; they are simply tall and skinny like everything else. I wanted the headboard to seem insubstantial because rather than trapping him, beyond the first part of the story, I saw the bed as actively refusing to be a refuge for Gregor. It is not mentioned in the story at all once he finally pushes himself out of it, not even as an object in the room. The mattress needed to be a cradle for Gregor in regards to the first part of the story in which he has difficulty getting out of the bed because of his round shell, but there also needed to be something about it which would seem discouraging to reentry, so I chose to make it just a little bit lumpy and uncomfortable looking.
The dresser.
I wanted to make the dresser as functional as possible, mostly because I am a detail oriented person, and what kind of a dresser doesn't have drawers? The dresser is tall and skinny, again, because I wanted to create contrast between Gregor and the furniture. The legs are uneven to communicate precariousness. The height, if viewed from below, would also seem ominous or threatening, much as the human world began to act toward Gregor. I didn't alter the form of the dresser much above its legs because in the story, it was just an object in the room. Gregor had no interaction with it, not even at the beginning of the story. Although I made drawers that are able to slide out and open, I chose not to put anything in them because as a bug, Gregor now has no use for this piece of furniture, and as a human, he probably did not use it anyway because he was always ready to travel. I considered filling the bottom drawer with the rotted food that Gregor refused to eat, but I chose not to because he made his discomfort with his new life more clear by refusing to touch the food and leaving out in the open than he would have by hiding it.
The blanket.
When we began to talk about bedding in class, and many people mentioned that things in Gregor's room reminded them of things in their grandmothers' houses, I thought of a blanket that my grandmother had in her house. It is a Scottish wool plaid blanket, very warm, but as is typical of Scottish wool blankets, also very itchy. I knew that I wanted to use wool to add to my message of discomfort. I created this blanket by twisting very thin strips of paper and then weaving them together. I purposefully kept the weaving from being very tight so that the blanket would be threadbare and unable to provide Gregor with any comfort. It would also not be very helpful in his attempts to hide himself from his family, which emphasises the idea that his attempts to hide were rather futile in the first place because of his size and shape. Some of the unraveling at the edges also calls to memory the franticness of Gregor's attempt to get out of bed, trapped on his back with his thin little legs thrashing around in the air. There were several times in the story when Gregor's body seemed to be his own enemy. The idea that, maybe in that first instant of realising he was a bug, he contributed to the destruction of something that could give him comfort is evident in this last feature of the blanket.
I imagined Gregor to be very round, with long spindly legs that scarcely supported him. In my rendering of him, the legs don't even appear to support him and appear rather useless. He is very near to the ground and is not at all agile. I imagined him to be very large in the story; about the size of a trash can lid or a manhole. This is evident in the scale of this piece in comparison with the bed I created.
In Progress Photos:
I'm bad at remembering to take these while I work because once I have a process down, I get so involved in executing it. My method for construction was identical for each of the boxes that make up the mattress, box spring, dresser, and drawers; I simply adjusted measurements depending on the size of the object.
This is the construction of the drawers.
This is the construction of the blanket.
The most difficult thing was assuring that the ends would stay in place, even once the blanket was completely woven together. Water helped a little bit, but I ended up with a little more unraveling at the edges than I would have liked. This process took around an hour or two once I had all of my strips made. Making the strips actually took longer than weaving them.
I incorporated several textures into this piece. The masking tape was weaved to create an interesting, bumpy surface. Though the texture of this component is apparent through feel, I think it creates an even more appealing visual texture. I added the pins to the top of the sculpture to create further protrusions and to anchor the weaving in place while keeping its edges free. On the inside of the structure, I poked and gouged the wood to create a rough texture and added pyramidal scraps of wood, which are also found on the outside of the structure, to add a very prominent sense of topography and three-dimensionality to the sculpture. I think the piece is very strong because even though it is meant to represent texture, it is also very unified through the repetition of triangular shapes. This is also the strongest and sturdiest of the four sculptures.
Scale
I took the idea of scale very literally when thinking about my plan for this sculpture. The basis of the sculpture is two square pieces of wood, one large and one small. I chose to segment the large piece into three stacked rectangles in order to integrate an angled layering of tape that would further emphasise the difference in size between the two pieces. The pins were functional in this piece and were very helpful in creating sturdy joints.
Unity
The word unity, beyond its denotative meaning, connotes a sense of elegance, delicacy, and simplicity to me. I wanted to somehow evoke both the literal and emotional meaning of unity by creating a sculpture that reflects these other principles, as well. I chose not to use any of the materials other than wood and (structurally) glue because I think they would have provided too much variety and distracted from the concept. I chose to make the sculpture as symmetrical as possible, meaning that it looks similar from most angles, so there is unity in not only the sculpture itself but in how it is viewed. The main feature of the sculpture is comprised of four thinly shaven curls of wood, which I think evokes the delicacy and elegance I associate with unity.
Variety
My intent in this piece was to portray variety through the use of several materials and through different uses of these materials. Tape was employed in different lengths, widths, directions, and heights. I combined geometric and organic elements in the base by rounding corners, carving out sections, and faceting edges. I incorporated different textures, poking holes in the wood, piling scrap wood onto the base, letting the wood glue pool up in some areas, and adding topography to the focal wave of tape by adding pieces of wood and tape in between the layers.
"The body is the primary mode of perceiving scale"
This sentence reminded me of the concept of self-knowledge Diane Ackerman talked about in the article "Touch." Ackerman says that the sense of touch is crucial to understanding one's own appearance, substance, and position in space, also known as proprioception. Similarly, I can understand how one's own body would become a reference of scale for other objects. For example, the experience of going to see the Eiffel Tower is directly connected to the fact that the Eiffel Tower is much, much larger than the human body. This experience is reversed with the idea of the souvenir that can be held in the hand. I am not sure how this would affect the emotional or mental connection with the object or experience. Obviously the souvenir evokes a memory of the place from which the souvenir originated, but how is this affected by scale?
"The souvenir reduces the public, the monumental, and the three dimensional into the miniature, that which can be enveloped by the body."
The significance of the scale change may be that this tiny object, which may represent a massive landmark, can now be transported with the person who has purchased or created it, and the memory, therefore can be voluntarily evoked at any time. The problem with the public and monumental is that it obviously cannot be moved. The importance of the object having the capacity to be enveloped by the body is that it has achieved a superior level of mobility.
"The place of origin must remain unattainable in order for desire to be generated."
The importance of a souvenir is memory. Memory and experience are two different things. An experience becomes an important memory when the uniqueness of the experience is realised. If the experience of a place or time were easily accessible, it would most likely decline in importance for the person experiencing it, becoming a part of the mundane. We most cherish things either that are lost to us or that we recognise as being ephemeral and fleeting. We are less attached to the things that we believe are staples in our lives.
When I pressed play, I was pleasantly surprised. This podcast reminds me a lot of Radiolab, an NPR science podcast I love and listen to regularly, and I didn't realise that there were any other radio shows that were set up in quite the same way. I may have to start regularly listening to this one as well.
I had heard of Cindy Sherman and her movie stills before, and if that happened to me at one of her shows, I would have no idea what to think. I thought Cindy Sherman's reaction to hearing what had happened to the hosts was interesting. She seemed to have some respect for this woman because, more or less, this woman was doing the same thing that Cindy does in her work, pretending to be someone else. This seems like a fairly inconsequential masquerade, unlike some of the other instances of pretenders talked about later in the episode.
The second story, about the man who was lonely after a breakup and pretended to be the person strangers in a cafe had agreed to meet up with just so he could talk to someone, really does remind me of something I would hear on Radiolab. It's not farfetched, but it's an odd response to being lonely. You can't really make friends if you're pretending to be someone else, and in the long run, friends are what someone lonely needs, or else the loneliness is not going to go away. If he were himself, however, he might have a chance of making some kind of lasting relationship with new people he meets, and therefore the problem might eventually not be a problem anymore. There would be a sense of power though, and simultaneous powerlessness, I think, in pretending to be the person these people are expecting, because you can meet such different people, and, as the character in the story was able to do, make these people nervous and respectful of you by manipulating their apparent situation. But at the same time, there is powerlessness in not knowing anything about them and having to improvise your way through the meeting, hoping you don't get yourself in trouble by picking up a wrong clue from context.
I think the journalistic piece was more about the merits of hyperlocal vs. local vs. outsourced journalism than the assumption of a fake identity, though the company was not entirely transparent about how they were operating, even to its employees. There are upsides and downsides to what the company does, and upsides and downsides to its opacity. Like the journalist who was interviewed said, it feels wrong, and the people who are being paid to type up these stories are not reporting properly because they're not invested in what they're reporting or who they're reporting it to. Like the founder of the company said, it's a good way to get the backlogged stories out of the way so that real, local journalists can take on the more important stories and be invested in the stories and their audiences. The company may not want to reveal its sources because people will have opinions about whether or not what they're doing is wrong and especially deceptive. But they may want to, because then at least no one can accuse them of being dishonest.
The piece by Jackie Clark about her step mother and father illustrates a much more consequential instance, not necessarily of a false identity, but of not disclosing the whole truth about yourself. I know about something similar that happened to a close friend of mine, but I will not divulge details because they are not my business to divulge. For a while though, it becomes unclear what sort of relationship you're supposed to have with this person who was so close to you for so long but had another side you didn't know about. I can understand why Clark did not write off her father right away. He was her father, she couldn't instantly stop loving him. I'm relieved that instead of being hurt and not wanting to talk to him at all, she at least considered the possibility that there was some very understandable cause that led him to pursue this secret relationship and keep it a lie from his wife and children.
List 1: Books I have read. I have chosen here to include books that made me think a lot while or after reading them, not just books I have read that I enjoyed but that may not have had as profound an impact.
Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson
A brilliant sci-fi novel that explores the world of nanoscience and innovative entertainment technology in a Neo-Victorian way. The story of a young girl facing unlikely odds who becomes the hero of her time.
Elsewhere by Gabrielle Zevin
A meditation on the possibilities of the afterlife. Though this is a novel for teens, I really liked the story because it was a creative model of the afterlife, but it also relates very well to life. It's a great example of recovery after loss, something that I struggle with all too often.
Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman
I didn't know who Neil Gaiman was when I first picked up this book in a small-town bookstore because it looked interesting, I was spending the summer with my grandmother, I was bored, and I wanted to read something. I loved it. I haven't gotten through most of his other books yet except for Coraline, which was written brilliantly, I might add, even though it's for kids, but I would like to. I enjoy him as a writer. This is the story of an underground (in both senses of the word) London separate from the London above ground. A regular ol' guy gets swept up in this world on a dark, magically, but really cool adventure.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
Need I say more? This book is hilarious. Admittedly I haven't read all the stories that make up the Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide, but I'm working on it. I honestly keep forgetting that this book exists and then kicking myself for it.
List 2: Books I want to read.
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
Being a creative writing minor, I wrote a story last semester for my fiction class that I was told tackled ideas somewhat similar to concepts brought up in this book. I've heard it's very good and have been meaning to acquire it.
A Song of Ice and Fire series by George R.R. Martin
I didn't get into Game of Thrones when it first aired on television and became really popular, but my boyfriend, who had read the books, and I watched a few episodes and I started to follow some of the character's stories. He assured me that the books were very good and that I would enjoy reading them, so I'll give them a try.
Sum by David Eagleman
Not being religious, I'm very interested in contemplations of an afterlife that is different from the traditional afterlives outlined in modern religions. I am an avid Radiolab listener, in fact I just listened to the episode that is based partly off of an excerpt from this book last night, and that's how I was led to want to read this. David Eagleman is a neuroscientist as well, but I think the imaginations of scientists are fantastic things and that this would be really interesting. I've heard it's not a sciency read and would be rather interesting for anyone, not just people who are really into neuroscience (I certainly don't know much about it, though I find explanations of things I can understand to be immensely interesting).
List 3: People I find inspiring
Most of the people I find inspiring are classmates, teachers, or people I don't know that just have some quality that I notice, feel I lack, and wish I had.
But if I had to come up with some people who are more recognisable.....
This might be cliche, but I have to say Steve Jobs is one of them. One of my first assignments in my journalism class a couple schools back was to watch a video of the commencement speech Steve Jobs gave at Stanford University and write an article about it. In watching this, he gave a brief autobiography, advice, and a lot of encouragement to those graduating. His main point was to never give up on what you want to do, even if there doesn't seem to be a way to get there. Make your own path. I found it very motivational.
Carl Sagan, a very notable cosmologist and general Renaissance man who explains what we know about the universe and how we know it in his series Cosmos, episodes of which can be found floating around on the internet. Here is an excerpt from one episode:
Obama. I'm not American and I can't vote, and I'm really not all that political and don't want to get that way, but this guy's cool. I wouldn't want to be president because it doesn't sound like very much fun but I really think this guy's doing the best he can and is making some pretty good decisions.
List 4: Music I like.
Coldplay. One of my favourite artists, and one of the bands I've liked for the longest amount of time. Sadly, this song is a little too pertinent right now, but I still really like it. I like older stuff better than most of what's on Mylo Xyloto, their newest album.
Opeth. They're actually a progressive metal band (I like progressive metal, and I have no problem with heavy screaming, though I will spare you any of that here), but they also do a lot of beautiful acoustic pieces and some lighter metal (with Opeth, I gravitate more to the songs that are done in this style). His voice is spectacular, and they're one of the best bands I've seen live. This is a song that's nice and light, so I promise there's not reason to be afraid to press play.
Florence and the Machine. I don't like everything I've heard from her, but her voice is so strong and incredible. Here is my favourite song:
Simon Fraser Univeristy Pipe Band. This is a University in the Vancouver area (actually had I never left Vancouver I might have gone there, it's also my dad's alma mater) with several grade levels of pipe bands. Their Grade I (the highest) has won the world championship several times, and they're celebrities in the Canadian Scottish community (The pipe major also owns a local dance and piping supply store, and his neice won the Highland Dancing World Championships, so they're a big deal). I really have never heard another band as good as they are. This also happens to be them opening for Vancouver's home hockey team, the Canucks, at their first game of the season a few years ago. Also, check out this other video for a more traditional performance by them. This is a medley, which is a blend of several different tunes, but the fast paced one right before they play the really slow bit is Flora MacDonald's Fancy, which is the tune for a highland dance as well. Also in here is a highland reel, which is one of the only highland dances that is not performed individually. Most pipe bands do not include so much harmony in their performances, which is one reason SFU is so fantastic.
And my other three favourite songs right now: I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons (though I like a lot of what I've heard from them, a lot, Radioactive by Imagine Dragons (though I'm not sure I like much else by them) and Little Black Submarines by The Black Keys.
Also, Radiolab by NPR. A Science and Technology podcast for ordinary but curious people. Not music, but this is what I most often listen to when I'm driving.
List 5: Places I have lived
I feel that the places I have lived have influenced me a lot because they all have very unique cultural flavours.
Calgary, Alberta
Famous for its Calgary Stampede every summer, Calgary is an ever-growing city a couple hours east of the Canadian Rockies. It has a very country-western feel to it, but it's a haven for the more outdoorsy adventurous types as well. I was born there and only lived there until I was almost seven years old, so it didn't have a huge impact on me, and frankly, it's not my favourite place to visit.
Honolulu, Hawaii
I turned seven years old a couple weeks after we moved here and we lived there for three years. I attended grades 2, 3, 4, and 5, and my dad worked at the cultural museum. It was a pretty cool place to live. In school we learned a lot of culture, including Hawaiian history and Hula, and some of the Hawaiian and Japanese languages. On weekends we either went sailing, snorkeling, or to the beach.
Vancouver, British Columbia
I lived here twice: once immediately after Hawaii, and once on my own two years ago. An incredibly beautiful coastal and mountainous city in the pacific northwest, this has probably been my favourite place to live. It's where I say I'm from even though I wasn't born there, because it's where my dad grew up, where we spent our vacations visiting my grandmother, and probably the most deeply engrained in who I am culturally. The problem with Vancouver is, though, that it rains a lot, and it's a fairly big city. I had trouble being there on my own because I found it hard to meet people, and the weather can be really depressing if you're already not the happiest you could possibly be. I hope to move back there one day though, but hopefully not on my own.
Daytona Beach, Florida
My dad moved here when I was thirteen, my mum and I when I was fourteen. This was an extremely difficult adjustment for me to make after Vancouver, and for a long time I was very unhappy about it. I still don't like Daytona very much, but I have at least learned to appreciate Florida's weather and drivability. Maybe I could live here (Florida, not Daytona) again in a very long time from now, but for now the plan is to leave once I'm done with my degree at Flagler.
Asheville, North Carolina
My first year out of high school, I moved to Asheville to go to a school in Swannanoa (about 20 miles away from the city). It was a very rural, very small community with very liberal notions. It was really interesting, but I decided as the end of the school year came up that it wasn't a good fit and returned to Daytona.
