There and Back Again (but not really): A Reflection on My Freshman Year

This year has been more than I ever could have imagined, but not in a cheesy way. I couldn't have imagined the techniques, mediums, and art forms I've learned and grown to love because prior to this year I had no conception of their existence. I came into this school exceedingly low on self confidence, confused, and very discombobulated - I was an inexperienced artist who had far less interaction with the art world than a good majority of people I met here. Over the course of the year, I have familiarized myself with the basics of each medium Cornish offers, and as a result find myself working and creating pieces I never thought would be considered "my style." I have generally responded more to straightforward, technical work and as a result only created works as such, but I now find myself creating more conceptual and abstract works. Alongside the increase in my knowledge of the art world is the increase in respect for it. Art, while a very technical and demanding field, it's always about who can do it, it's about who does it. Being an artist is claiming a connection between your mind, what is in the world, and what could be. It's this connection that is portrayed in any work we create, and it's what draws people in as viewers and observers. This is a connection I've been realizing and developing over this past year, and as unsettled as I was 8 months ago, I am now proud to call myself an artist and an explorer of the metaphysical in our everyday life. 

Cloud Haiku (Nickolus Meisel)

This piece sits at the South Lake Union Streetcar station on Westlake and Seventh Avenue. It consists of several bronze cast in the size and shape of pillows, each painted a subtle, non-invasive white. Each form, though when touched is hard and unyielding, appears soft and malleable, almost bending to the will of gravity as the soft pillows they appear to be might when strewn about in a seemingly random modus as these have been. Their arrangement seems intentionally scattered, in an almost fung shui style: five are arranged in a pile while three others stand up to several feet away in a more isolated manner. They’re well integrated into the pre-existing elements in the environment, such as the pavement and patches of shrubbery.

            This piece is well situated on Westlake Avenue in Downtown, and is passed daily by many. Its color and form give the piece a comforting and soft demeanor, a good contrast to the hustle and bustle of downtown. It can provide a momentary distraction for a mere passerby or serve as an extended setting for someone waiting at the bus stop. Either way, it’s a calming element put into a chaotic environment and is seemingly meant to alleviate the minds worries, if only for a short while.

            I have had a routine interaction with this piece for months prior to seeing it on our class walk without fully realizing it. They’re located on the route I walk to get to Westlake Bus Station, and only after passing them several times did I even begin to consciously project what I thought they were. Between this first realized projection and the class walk, I thought they were sandbags of some sort that had perhaps fallen off a truck and someone had thrown there to remain obstructing to pedestrian traffic. I had never thought much of them, but looking back I did always enjoy them as I passed – because I didn’t fully understand what the were or where they came from, I found a bit of mystery and humor in these strange form simply lying beside a streetcar station. They always made me smile, and even though I didn’t fully realize that they were a piece of art someone had created and place there for very specific reasons, it’s purpose was not lost. It was able to distract and ease my mind from the motivation behind the quick pace of my walk to the bus stop, and in my opinion was more successful than most art I see. It was able to affect me in it’s intended way without me even making a conscious effort to have some sort of reaction or interpretation of art, and that, to me, is what public art is about. 

This is Not a Series

Core Studios Exhibition, 2012

This piece, as may be interpreted from its title, is more conceptual rather than literal or even formal. It is meant to be a commentary on people’s preconceptions of art and natural randomness. This series, which is not a series, is comprised of 72 photos, each chosen because they are seemingly unrelated as a whole. Between the organized presentation and the sterile environment of a gallery, there is a natural desire to assume a deeper meaning or pattern. While in this case there isn’t much of either a deeper meaning or pattern, there are smaller parallels or series within, which reflect on natural randomness. In nature, repetition and patterns will inevitably form. Just as surely, pattern and repetition will form within a series of photographs, especially when a sole artist creates that series. My personal aesthetic and style affect the type of negatives I take, and from which the types of photographs I make; in addition, I’ve only been so many places and seen so many things. All these factors narrow the spectrum of photos in my collection, so the randomness of presented photos is very niche and specific to me. Nothing is truly random, and this piece speaks to that nature, as well as the nature and role of the viewer. It is possible for everyone to infer different relations, and that is the intention of the piece.