BREAK: Artist Reflection

BREAK

My final project is called “BREAK” and I consider it to be the best piece that I have crafted in this class. The initial prompt we were given was “play”, which came to just mean do anything. What I wanted to do was find a way to show people what it is like to be inside my brain, what it means to fight to depression and deal with putting an insane amount of pressure on yourself constantly. After the Ferguson and Garner cases, however, my thinking became much less introspective. I no longer desired to make something for myself, I wanted to share a more universal message because that is the effect I want my art to have on people. So I came up with a master and a puppet concept (almost directly inspired by master hand from the Super Smash Bros series) and got to work. I played around with the idea of fate and how we as humans are affected by it. Your view on fate will undoubtedly differ from mine but in my eyes we are all subject to a kind of fate. We are fated to either be a person who is controlled or not, and it goes deeper than that but that is the core concept. As a creator my biggest fear is that one day I will be in a position where I am not in charge of my own life. This could be because of a job I have, a place I live, or just a change in personality. So to fight this I created a piece where a character literally breaks from the hold of his oppressor...or did he? I left things open ended, not spelling out the whereabouts of the two characters because that is not the point. Freedom and choice are always going to be in a state of shifting intensity, and your relationships to these concepts will change over time. For me now my definition of freedom is having the power to create as much as I got just for the sake of creating. Whether we are on a pre-determined track or not doesn't really matter honestly because we will always be the biggest catalyst in our own lives. This project reminded my how much I champion the idea of self-control. Everything starts with you. Watching my own film made me emotional because it reminded me of how many people are in chains and feel too helpless to try and break free. These chains could be: depression, a job, a bad relationships, etc. yet they are not seen because it is so easy to just accept negative factors that keep you down. Sometimes all you need to do to achieve freedom is be who you want to be, regardless of negative energy that might try and stop you.

This project is my love letter to any artist that has inspired me and pushed me to develop my own idea of what it means to break the cycle of control. In this class I have heard stories of students dealing with so much adversity, yet the videos they make are amazing. We are not all born equal or viewed as equal in this world and that is just a sad fact. However we can make ourselves equal, by standing up for what we believe in and not letting the world control how we see ourselves. That is what this class had reaffirmed in my mind, that my vision to create and inspire will never be squashed by any outside force that would rather see me silent.  

E and Z

“It is amazing how much space is just...out there,” proclaimed Ellie as she gazed up at the night sky.

“Yea, almost like they call it space for a reason,” replied Zee in a sarcastic manner.

At this response Ellie threw a chip at Zee as he laughed at his own joke; soon enough she was laughing as well and the joyful sound filled the empty parking lot they were in. Classes had just let out and everyone was coming home for summer. Zee had done his best to get Ellie alone before she was too busy being everyone else's best friend over the vacation. He had planned it all out beforehand: sitting in the back of his Kia soul with the trunk open and the seats down, looking up at the stars, and no one around to kill the moment. There was silence as the two soaked up the starlight and time slowed to a halt.

“I just bought my plane ticket to Paris today,” Ellie said still staring off in the endless abyss.

“What? Plane ticket? W-when do you leave?” Zee was trying to keep calm and not sound shocked, knowing that his heart skipped a few beats.

“Next month. I told you I got into that study abroad program in York right? Well I just found out that I can go to Paris for a special introduction program for about 6 weeks because of that.”

“What? How the hell does that work?”

“To be honest I am not sure, the email said 'Paris' and I just started screaming. Art History perks I guess.”

“I am pretty sure that is the first time the phrase 'Art History perks' has been uttered unironically.”

They both laughed again...and then silence. Zee felt like all of his planning had just fallen apart. It is hard enough as it is to love your best friend, but how can you love something that physically won't be there? In his head we was going through hundreds of options; individual mental pathways all trying to reach the same destination. How can he make this work? His brain was overclocked, so much so that he simply spouted an automatic response.

“Paris has always been your dream yea?” His words were sincere but Ellie could feel a sort of tension in them.

“Yea, ever since I was little. At this point Paris has become this dumb fantasy for a lot of girls, but as an artist how can I not want to go there? It must be so fucking nice to live in a city that actually values artistic integrity.” Ellie was never one to mince words, it was part of her charm.

“Yea man a city of lights, culture, and class. Seems like the kind of place you'd fall in love in.” Zee mind was still lost in thought, trying to see if he could rob a bank or maybe sell drugs for a month to raise money for a plane ticket.

“Love? I don't know about all that you big nerd, I just want to experience the city.” Ellie looked over and gave Zee a smile. That smile. It was the same smile he had grown so immensely fond of. The smile she gave when they had first met during a summer years ago. The smile he brought out of her all the times she had been stressed or distraught. The smile he couldn't imagine not seeing for months at a time.

“Uh...I mean yea of course, that's what I meant dude.” Zee started awkwardly fiddling with his Zune and Aux cord setup. He had been subtly playing Because the Internet, one of he and Ellie's favorite albums, in the background in an attempt to impress her. Suddenly that all seemed so pointless now. Paris had stolen his chance from him. He was so lost in his own mind that he didn't hear Ellie talking talking to him.

“Are you a traveler?” Ellie asked.

“What?” Zee had no idea where this conversation was going.

“Are you a traveler? Do you see yourself traveling the world and getting as lost in other countries as you are in yourself right now?” Ellie was mocking him, but in a playful way. He could tell the difference, friendship is funny that way.

“No...I am more of a wanderer, lost in thought with a keen eye for pretty words.” Zee's poetic tendencies reared their head without his intention. Creative minds are funny that way.

“So tell me Mr. Wanderer, what is new in your life?” Ellie smiled widened, she had always been a fan of Zee's poetry.

“W-well...there's this girl...” Zee watched Ellie closely as a her smile slowly faded. She had heard that line from him so many times it was almost impressive.

“Ahh, there is always a girl.” Ellie sighed. Some things never change.

“No but this girl is special!” Zee exclaimed a bit louder than he should have.

“They are always special.”

“I mean more special, she is...different.”

“They are always different.”

“You just don't understand.” Zee crossed is arms behind his head and started to take comfort in the stars again.

“You do have a flair for the dramatic. Tell me what makes this girl so special.” Ellie was genuinely curious now, it was rare to see Zee get so riled up over a crush.

“Well...she uh, I mean...fuck.” Zee for once was at a lost for words. Love is funny that way.

“Wow, this girl must be really something.” Ellie was giggling now, clearly enjoying her companions discomfort.

“Well for one thing...she is going to Paris in a month.” Zee said this quietly, but even so Ellie could hear it and the tension suddenly became another passenger in the car.

“Uh...” Ellie felt embarrassed for teasing Zee, and for the first time since the car had stopped moving she noticed the album playing in the background.

“I-im sorry.” Proclaimed Zee. “I wasn't trying to make this awkward or try anything I just...” He reprimanded himself for driving 20 minutes out of town to get to this secluded area, not even thinking about how horrid the drive back would be if he was rejected.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Ellie sounded nervous but confident. You know someone long enough and things just tend to pop into place.

More silence.

“Hey...when you go to Paris, you will still talk to me right?” Zee's paranoid was showing.

Ellie thought long and hard before looking at Zee. She gave him a smile,that smile, before turning the music on the Zune up, knowing full well that she was one of the only people he trusted with his music. The two sat in the car for what seemed like an eternity, watching the stars tell stories about the planets they surround. In their minds they both knew there was no place they would rather be. Not even Paris.

End.

Where I Stand

I want to make this clear, My Name is Ezekiel Starling and I am a black male. In my life time I have moved and lived up and down the West coast from California to Washington and back again. I was raised by a single mother who taught me to always fight for what I believe in, and that things may always be a tad bit harder for me because of the color of my skin. My father has never lived with us but he has played a big role in how I view conflict and protect myself. My best friends range from Caucasian to Iranian to Pakistani to Nicaraguan to Filipino to African to African-American. My passion is creating art and trying to find new ways to connect, help, and inspire my fellow men. I am trying to stay objective and learn as much from Ferguson as I can. I do not think Mike Brown deserved to be killed.

Let us begin.

I do not agree with the decision to not indict officer Darren Wilson but I can see why that conclusion was reached. Half of the country believes that Mike Brown is an innocent martyr, a young man who has done no wrong and was shot 6 times while his hands were raised in surrender. While the other half has looked more into the case and has seen that there is evidence that paints the opposite picture, that Mike Brown was lunging for Wilson and/or his gun when he was killed. As you can see we have a bit of a problem. If we go with exhibit A, then there is no excuse for not indicting Wilson, as he murdered an innocent man. Yet if we turn our attention to exhibit B (which is what I am assuming the grand jury did) then we see an officer reacting to a situation that he probably never encountered before, thus resulting in a dead body and a ton of controversy. The grand jury most likely just saw Wilson protecting himself, and left it at that. Now before you judge me understand that I NEVER condone murder in any circumstance. If a man broke into my house and I killed him, I would still gladly stand trial for my actions; that is the humane thing to do. Whether or not the officer was defending himself or not it does not excuse his use of excessive force and the fact that he gets off utterly free is a shame. This, however, only serves to reflect a system that we have known to be less than favorable since its creation.

The problem with this event is that it brings up an ugly controversy that completely re-routes the situation and pollutes what we should be getting out of this tragedy. Is this case about race? Would Brown be alive if he was white? Why should we care about this single incident when there is so much black on black crime in certain communities? Where is the justice? These are the kinds of questions and flame wars you will see popping up all over social media/news sites. With all this information it is just so hard to make sense of the situation. So instead of jumping on anyone's bandwagon I formed my opinion and came to my own conclusion. I want to share because I do not want this to happen again. What do I mean by that? I mean that this wall we have put between ourselves as a country needs to be torn down if we are to have any hope of not destroying each other. Brown's family called for peace and change in the wake of this tragedy and I think that is what we should ALL be focusing on. It is so easy to just get angry and rally for a week or two and then just go back to being complacent; we cannot afford to do that anymore. Ferguson NEEDS to be the last example of questionable racism and confusing politics in our modern age. We have come too far as a people to let something like this just be another point of no resolution that is forever forgotten. The whole country is watching to see what we can make of this so let us be intelligent and find some answers.

If you think race has nothing to do with this case then stop reading now because anything I say will be lost on you. Race is a HUGE portion of this because of the ambiguous role it plays in Brown's death. The common retort is that Black people only care about one of their own when a white man kills him, and that if Brown was a white the result would be the same. First off every black person is aware of black on black crime, and I will address its significance later. Secondly, in my mind I have run this question through my head so many times and I honestly I do not know if Brown still would have been killed if he was white, AND THAT IS THE PROBLEM. People who have never experienced racism only think of it as big dramatic showings of hatred and clear cut right and wrong happenings, but to my people (and this is anyone who has experienced it) racism is subtle. Racism is the white lady that clutched her purse tighter when I sat next to her on a train, or white dad who holds his kid tighter when the pass through an “urban neighborhood”. I could go on and on, but the basis here is that racism stems from fear. A fear so strong that it unconsciously has worked itself into the backbone of society whether they want to be or not. Most of my white friends were not taught how to interact with police officers by their parents, they do not have to worry how they reach for a glove box, and they most certainly do not have their worrying mother calling them after every Oscar Grant, Trayvon Martin, and Mike Brown just to see if they are still okay. This is where the concept of privilege comes in, the idea that we are not all on the same playing field, and some people have advantages even if they do not think they do. No intelligent or reasonable person likes this, it is unfair and not a good reflection of our strength as a people, but what can we do?

We can start by working with each other instead of against each other. All the riots and idiotic nonsense that has come from this decision is a bad mark on the human race. Not on black people, not on white people, but ALL of us. These people do not deserve to be taken into the equation and I say we let the cops handle them. What we need to focus on is opening the door for discussion and action. I know so many non-black people whose eyes were opened by this case, people who may or may not have grown up oblivious to what happens who want to contribute. And we need to let them. This is not about just black people anymore. If we are going to save black lives we need to quell the fear that leads to so many black deaths, which involves getting everyone involved. The media portayal of black people is no longer relevant; it is our time to SHOW people they have nothing to fear from us. The Black people who kill and loot and are “thugs”, are the same as the white people who kill and rape. They are not us and we are not them. If we lived in a world where officer Wilson had no reason to have a potential unconscious fear of black people, Brown may still be alive. But he did have a reason to fear us, because we have let the wrong people paint a bad picture of us as a whole. When I think of black people I think of musicians, scientists, and heroes who have changed this planet. We need to make everyone else see that too. It would be nice to think that we are all one people and that race does not matter...but the sad fact is that it does. I want to fight for a world where being black only means that you get to be proud of your culture and heritage, without coming with the unwanted fear and burden of having to do more to stay ahead and stay alive.

All of this is personal opinion and I am not asking anyone to do something I would not do. We need to take this and make it a positive catalyst for the future. Do not let this become just another dead black body. I create, write, and dance to express that I am not just a black person, but that I am human. We need to all fight to show that we are human. This world is bursting with so many colors and backgrounds that it does not make sense to be afraid of them. The violence, poverty, and hatred that is portrayed to be a “hood” phenomenon or part of black culture exists everywhere. We need to fight to enforce a shift in perspective about how our fellow men and women are viewed in this country. Brown's family wants cops to wear body cameras; let's start there. You put a third party like a camera in the mix and you can see if an action is racially fueled or not. I do not want anymore martyrs, I am sick of these faux revolutions leading back to the same conclusion, and I am doing my best to help people see that we are all we have. It should not be about blame, it should be about showing people why change is needed, and then fighting for said change. We have the spark, let us not lose it.

It starts with us. 

Traces of TUV

 Traces of TUV playlist. Enjoy!!

So Traces of TUV ended up going better than I could have ever planned. For those of you who do not know, I made a project for my Dance on Camera class in which I had three separate wall panels and had silhouettes on each panel surrounded by words related to a specific topic. Each panel represent the character of either T,U, or V. I added on to the project daily so that you would see more of a character day by day until all three panels were completely filled with text. In addition to this I made a video for each character in which they performed a sort phrase while audio of a narrative they had written played over them. The end result was this brief look into the lives of these characters in which you get to see how their personality affects their dance style and motivations, which was the entire point of this project. I do not usually dabble in making working with hidden meanings or subtle hints at deeper topics, I prefer working the surface and using narratives to get a point across. This may simply because I am not currently able to sneak in subtly, or because I am so tired of the way narratives get abused in modern story telling that I just want to make some quality art. So when I started this project I had one goal: tell the story of these characters. That was it. If I could accomplish that I could move on to my next piece and be happy about my work. As it turned out that was not enough, once I started crafting this idea I kept noticing all these little details that keep falling into place, little details that seemed intentional but were just a result of the creative process. Each video component had a particular color that wen allow with it, and the color matched the tone of each character perfectly. This happen simply because I picked filming locations that I thought would suit the characters. I wanted to show people how personality affects your own dance style, but I ended seeing how the world has its own affects on your art. During the creative process I try to just take simple ideas and get as much millage out of them as possible, but what ends up happening is that all these tiny coincidences keep affecting my creations in the best of ways. So what I have learned to do is just let my projects shape themselves in a way.

In this project in particular I was heavily inspired by the idea of cross media production. I wanted to make a project that spanned multiple mediums but still carried the same message. So my videos did not take away from my panels, and my audio did not take away from my video, and my panels did not take away from my audio. Since there were many ways to view my project I wanted to make it so that no matter who much time you spent with it you came away with the same impression or idea. The challenge of this was that some parts of the projects took more time than others. I spent a good two hours per video making sure the editing was as good as I could make it, but only about 2 hours total went into the panel display. So how could I make sure one did not outshine the other? The answer came in the harsh form that this was simply not possible, so instead what I did was do my best to directly tie all the ideas together so that there would be no disconnect between them. They were different parts of the same whole, so experiencing one was just not enough. My Traces display become such that if you wanted a holistic view of my idea you needed to see everything, which in most cases was not possible. This lead to me viewing my project as a failure. I did not want people to think I had tried to confused them my leaving out information, there was simply not enough time to get everything out there. The feedback I got, however, made me think otherwise. Since people only saw a piece of the puzzle they wanted to see more and I was asked where the rest of the project was. I tried to have it all up front, but natural curiosity and art go hand in hand and in the end I'm glad the display turned out the way it did. I wanted people to see this as a reflection of dancers and how we feel and how we incorporate that in our own work. I have learned that as an artist, I still have plenty of pieces of my own puzzle to fill in.

Upon Closer Inspection: Mildly Interesting

It is a beautiful day at Enigma University, the sun is in the sky, the birds are in the trees, and the freshmen have just finished making their parents and upperclassmen haul their excessive junk up endless flights of stairs to their horribly plain but cozy dorm rooms. It is here we find Jackie, a future anthropology and studio art major, who was lucky enough to get a single on her otherwise roommate littered freshmen hall. She wanted to take time to set up her room, so her parents took their rental car and sped off into town to buy some last minute supplies. She looks around her single, which was completely foreign and a skeleton of what a college dorm should be like. Jackie sets her sights on making this room more comfortable when she hears a small voice cut through the cluttered noise of move in happening all around her.

“I am not sure where that goes love, Try again.”

Jackie looks around the room in caution, as if looking around an empty room would somehow stop anyone from hearing the voice that just spoke. She walked over to the water tank that had been carefully placed on her desk and knelt down so she was eye level with the mobile home. Inside lay Milton, a 10 inch Northern Map Turtle, who was sleeping peacefully in his semi-underwater habitat.

“Milton shut up, you are talking in your sleep again.”

At these words the turtles eyes slowly opened, and they glared at Jackie with as much intensity as a turtle looking at a human could possibly have.

“And you figured the solution to this was to wake me up and make me talk more?” Milton asked, swimming up to the surface.

“Well if you are going to be talking, I'd rather it be with me so I have some company while I unpack.”

“Are you not worried about someone hearing me or something? Do you want to be known as the girl who talks to turtles? The turtle talker? The great green gabble? The reptile...the reptile...damnit I had something for this...”

“The Reptile Reciter?”

“No no it wasn't that, but good try though.”

As Milton was lost in thought (still clearly trying to think of a clever name to insult his owner with), Jackie began unpacking her suitcases. She thought about what Milton had said, about being known as the crazy girl who talks to turtles. In a moment of despair she thought that maybe her turtle was right. It then almost immediately occurred to her that she would have full on conversations with Milton regardless of whether or not he had the ability to speak back. With her insanity freshly re-affirmed she continued unpacking until she heard a voice speak up again.

“What's this place like anyway? I can't really see much considering I spend my life trapped in a box.”

Jackie rolled her eyes, Milton's main tactic of asking Jackie for something was to complain about his sorry turtle existence.

“You know, you get more with sugar than with salt,” Jackie states as she rolls her sleeves up and grabs a towel from her luggage in preparation to remove Milton from his tank.

“I can taste neither sugar nor salt,” Milton replies in a monotone voice.

Jackie lifted Milton out of his tank and proceeded to put him on the towel she had placed next to it. She then dried him off, ignoring his cries of uncomfortableness as the towel covered him. After he was dry enough, Jackie carried him over to her window and placed him on the windowsill in such a way that he could see outside.

“Wow...its so sunny here. I hate it,” Milton said coldly, never having been a fan of the heat.

“Ugh, you are so unreasonable after you nap, I give up.” Jackie walked away from the window, leaving Milton to fend for himself.

“No wait, Jackie come back. What if I fall?” Milton tried not to move, which even for a turtle is hard to do once you start thinking about it.

Jackie and Milton proceeded to argue with each other, as they have been doing for about a year now. But outside the sun still shone and the birds still flew. One way or another this was the start of something mildly interesting.

End.

Caught in Between

 Caught in between, Audio Version

 As you all may know by now, my cosmic- themed blog stands as my own personal journal and outlet for my often confusing emotions, I put the entirety of my innermost thoughts out on display for the world to see. I do not crave attention nor do I am I trying to change the world, I simply believe that what I am going through is relatable (even though a lot of times I feel alone) and if I keep writing one day I can help someone else find their way.

 

Now that that is out of the way lets talk about life for a minute. Lately I have been in a perpetual state of gray. At first I figured this was just due to the graying weather outside, but upon deeper introspection I found the answer to be a lot more...sinister. I am a California kid going to school in upstate New York, one of the farthest possible places from my hometown. Now of course this isn't news, I am in my third year and loving it; so why did I bring this point up? Well I feel as though each of my years has been characterized by a distinct feeling or state of mind. Freshman year I was excited, Sophomore year I doubted myself and a lot of my choices (and of course the depression did not help). This year I would describe myself as torn. I am torn between my desire to live out a life in California, and my dream of making my own mark in the world somewhere new. Most of the multimedia platforms I manage (my podcast, this blog, my dance videos) could pretty much be done wherever I am if I have the right equipment, but I feel as though if I move back to the golden state then I will get nothing done. As much as it pains me to say it...there have been a lot of times where California just does not seem like home anymore.

Do not misunderstand me, California raised me. In the bay area I learned how to dance, appreciate other cultures, and stand up for what I believe in. It has given me memories, friends, music, food, and enough sunshine to brighten up anyone's day. However that part of my life is also behind me. I am not a high schooler anymore, when I go home for breaks things seem more and more foreign as the younger generation grows around me and departs on their own journeys. It makes me feel as though I am not doing enough, like I should be spending my breaks in another country or doing an internship, like California will become a crutch if I let it. My grayness stems from the fact that I feel homeless, Rochester is nice enough but I am essentially just visiting, and going home may mean that I never get a chance to actually utilize my potential. I have things I want to do: I want to share my voice and my vision as far as it can go and I won't be content otherwise. Whenever I talk to my family back home it makes me sad, because I have already made the decision that even though California will always be waiting for me with open arms, I may have to reject it's embrace.

I need to make my own path. I want to be able to support myself, I want to one day buy the house we live in so my mother never has to worry ever again, I want my podcast or blog to take off so I can find more and more like minded people and establish a community of artists. I want to create, inspire, and heal people. Everything I do is for the purpose, and if I cannot find a way to make my beautiful home state fit into that dream then I am sorry family but I will not be coming home. I lock myself in my cave here working on so many things at once that it is hard to believe I still find time to enjoy myself. I miss my parents, I miss my grandparents, I miss my hometown, I miss feeling like I had all the answers...but I chose to come here. I chose a life of creation over conformity and have no regrets. I am putting all this out in the air because writing the gray away is one of only things I know for certain. So while things may be confusing now, I am still going to work and do what I love, because that is what California taught me.  

Reflection on my first dance project

Find the project here -->Therapy 

My first dance project, titled “Therapy”, is a reflection of my own struggles dealing with depression last semester. I tried my best recapture how it felt in a way that would convey the point without hammering in cliché stereotypes. Going through depression was one of the most challenging this I have ever had to go through, and one of the main reasons I was able to make it through was because of the amazing dance program here at the University. I was forced to get out of my room because I had classes to take, workshops to attend, and performances to make. Anyone who dances can tell you how hard it is to be in a sour mood when you are doing the thing you love most in the world.

Depression is like getting caught in a vicious cycle that you feel like you have no control over, whereas dance is the exact opposite. In Dance you have all the control you could ever want or need, which gives you a much needed base to start recovering from. In this project that narrative I tried to tell was of a relatable college student just down on his luck. No drama or talks of drastic final measures, just a simple look at what it feels like inside the cycle. I dimmed the first few shots so they would be more pale and left a few out of focus to get my point across. In class we learned how vital it can be to use the movement of the camera as a sort of dance itself, so I chose to make the whole project in a circular fashion. It was split into two parts, in sense it was an act 1 and 2 of 3 (or act 2 and 3 without an act 1 if you think about it in a particular way), but the first half was done weeks before I even knew what the space of the bus would be like. Even after I had to shift a few things around and I changed the way I wanted to dance about 5 times before I settled on the concept.

During the day of the actual arts bus “performance”, the bus was almost two hours late, which of course meant that I second guessed whether or not I even wanted to use it anymore. I wish I had not been so attached to the idea beforehand. I wanted the bus to be more of a representation of dance then the actual dance itself. The character just sees this thing and approaches it on the off chance that it might help him, just like how I found dance. I never saw myself as a dancer and honestly used to have no sense of rhythm, but I stumbled upon a new hobby that would evolve into a lifestyle and I never looked back. The dancing on the bus was all improv, no planning except for the song that plays over it. We cannot predict how we will cope with depression, in fact sometimes the answer will just hit us out of nowhere, but when it does you have to be willing to step out of your comfort zone if you want to heal.

This piece does not really have a true ending, and not because depression does not have a true ending or something like that (although I could use that excuse), but because I just did not know how to end it. The resolution would have to fit the theme, so the best thing would probably be for the character to return to his room, look at his bed as if he wants to go back to sleep but then decide that he has slept enough. It is a simple way to convey the more complex phenomenon of depression and the back and forth that comes with it. However, it does not last forever and if you find the thing that ties you to the world it is easier to elevate yourself to a more positive mindset.

Dance On Camera: Duets Performance

Last Friday I attended what I consider to be one of the weirdest concerts I have ever been too. I do not remember ever feeling so confused after a dance performance. The concert was made up of seven duets that of course ranged in quality and style. The whole performance reminded of some of my favorite and least favorite aspects of modern dance. First off I think it is important for me to state how much my tastes have changed since my freshman year of college, from when I came in with no prior modern dance experience to now when it is a big chunk of what I do here. I love how liberating it is to make a piece where you can be as expressive or abstract as you want and that is just considered normal for the genre. That being said there I think I will just discuss my favorite and least pieces because they get the point across quite well.

My favorite piece of the night was a piece titles “Together” which was performed by our (former) very own Courtney World and a dancer I had never seen before. The two dancers started stage left with one hand in each others pockets, then without removing their hands they performed leaps and moved across the entire stage. There were elements of weight shift and balancing, all the while never breaking the formation of hands being pocketed. More than halfway through the piece the dancers took their hands out of their pockets but still managed to always be connected to one another, whether it be the arms or the legs they were always touching. The piece as a whole was amazing because it was so clear that it started with a simple thought, “what if we just never broke contact?”, after that it was simply a process of the dancers pushing the boundaries of what they could do given the their limitation. They moved in ways that inspired me to experiment with the way I am thinking about shooting videos. I have these large complicated concepts but what I should be doing is starting small and working my way up. Take the most mundane limitation or idea and exhaust all the ways I could do that. In hip-hop that is not so common because with such quick non repetitive movements it is hard to stick to an idea, but in modern you can spend 10 minutes doing one move if you are clever. This is what the piece symbolized to me, what you can do when you just let your imagination leak its way into your dance style. I hope I can find effective ways to use this new inspiration in my dance on camera class.

Now onto my least favorite piece: Firebird/mating season. This piece consisted of two topless girls (which was not nearly as distracting as I intentionally thought) dancing to the worst mash-up of songs using the motif of fire that I have ever heard. This dance was just a mess of terrible audio and great dancers. The reason this piece was my least favorite was because of the wasted potential. I understand that some people want to use art to make a statement about society and such, but if done wrong I think it just looks dumb. To have such talented dancers and great music, but fail to get the message across because of how the piece failed to come together, in my opinion, is worst than having a bad piece. I hate seeing a wasted idea or concept and I really wanted this piece to be good. The moment I saw so many songs listed I knew that I would either love or hate the piece, because almost no good can come from such a complicated concept. This where my hang ups with modern dance come from. I dislike when dancers try to make a statement by doing something avant garde or abstract, personally I would just prefer you to get the the point and say what you mean. There is too much talent out there to waste on a bad piece. Also a lot of modern pieces have terrible endings, like it is an after thought to a piece. Granted I am used to a genre where endings are big and explosive, but at the very least make your ending consistent with the theme of your piece. This dance where topless women were dancing on each other, supporting each other, and moving rapidly ending with one slowly laying on top of the other one and the music fading out. It was not the worst, but compared to the rest of the dance it seemed out of place.

Good and bad I still love modern dance and cannot wait for the chance to use this class to make something breathtaking.

Officially Back

 I guess I can officially say that I am back. Even though it has already been two weeks and I have had all my classes...oops. Any who I have been thinking a lot about what my objectives should be this year. Freshman year was all about finding where I fit in, sophomore year was about fighting the urge to hate myself and stay in bed (how positive), and now as a junior I wonder where life will take me. My plan is to build something. I am a selfish man who wants to leave his mark on a school that has been so good to me. As of right now I can only think of a few ways to do that, my dance and my writing.

I am often dramatic and claim that all I have to my name is my dancing ability and my penchant for arranging words in a delightful pattern. I do not enjoy math, I cannot gather enough willpower to put myself through medical or law school, and I value art above most things anyway. What a lot of people see as a hobby has turned into the biggest way I know of identifying myself. When I say I am a dancer it does not just mean that I am one who dances, it also implies that I have all the qualities associated with a good dancer. I work hard, have an eye for detail, can break down the most complicated phrases into smaller movements, I am devoted to my craft and love sharing my work with everyone possible. When I say I am a writer it means that I am constantly haunted with ideas that I cannot work on in the moment. Books I want to write, things I want made into graphic novels, small skits and short stories based upon my own life that I want people to be able to relate to. This year is my chance to really focus on these things. I have a new outstanding dance/film project that I will be working on along with short stories that I can hopefully post online. New blogs once a week.

In the recent months my blog as been read by the dean of admissions at my school, random people of a YouTube comment section, and my mom uses it to read the things I am sometimes to afraid to say in person. Needless to say by this point my blog is becoming one of the most popular entities of all time. I still want this to be where I can have a conversation with myself, I want this to serve as my way to tell people my versions of the truth that I see around me. I am no poet nor should you really care about what I say, but I still need a place to say it. The star world has become my name for my conscious. If I ever start a business you can guarantee that the star world will be somewhere in the title. It is dumb and childish but also amazing that I found a way to just express what I care about and say what I mean. A lot of people hold their tongues and I vow not to do that if I can ever help it.

It is Junior year, my mind is cluttered but still clear, and I am going to make the best out of this school year. There has been too much sadness lately and that needs to change. I am going to improve, the star world will expand, and my work will be shared with the masses. Welcome back everyone, get ready to be amazed.

A Night

Everything about this was wrong, but he knew that this was the only way find some sort of happiness. Kyle considered himself a sane man by normal standards so it was almost impossible for him to accept the predicament he had put himself in. Things should not have gone this way, being a recent college graduate with a good entry level job is supposed to be the dream, how did things spiral so quickly? Kyle looks around the room he was in and for the first time since he had moved in he noticed how small it was. It was a tiny one bedroom apartment in one of those many small towns along the coast of California that no one cares about. The location was good and the townsfolk were friendly, so why did the apartment suddenly seem so inadequate?

Nothing was making sense as Kyle examined every detail of his bedroom. The wall was plastered with posters of famous musicians and iconic comic book covers. The dresser next to the bed had pictures on it that were somehow relevant to him (at this point in time it was hard to remember why). There were photos of his parents, him in his cap in gown in front of his university’s main library, and childhood friends who weren’t exactly children anymore. He then looked to a bookshelf in the corner of his room. It was his personal bookshelf that he brought all the way from his home in New York because he just could not imagine his books being on anything else. He never really considered himself a sentimental person, but as he kept looking at his room all he could see were pieces of a broken past that he was trying to hold onto. It had only been a year since he moved here but already things had changed so much. Half of the room, which in reality was more like half the apartment itself, was missing. A shared space by two seemed to be so perfect but now that he was here alone it was just suffocating. All the good times had and all the arguments fought were getting mixed up as he was forced to sit in the painful hurricane the memories made. Things had gone from full, to half-empty, to completely barren, all before Kyle had time to fix his mistakes and possibly save something…possibly save everything.

Finally he looked at his computer desk, his favorite place in the room (it used to be the bed but now he rarely sleeps there). He remembered how long it took to finally win the argument that his computer belonged as close to him as possible. It almost ended up in the living room, but they both came to a consensus that the TV fit better in there. On his desk were little trophies of dumb high school accomplishments along with an assortment of knick knacks that he had gathered over his 20 something years of life. They had a particular shine to them when the sunlight from the window next to the bed hit them at the right angle, but there had been no sunlight in that room for what seems like an eternity. His gaze at last went to his hands and he remembered what he had been holding for the last two hours: the revolver that he got from his father as a graduation gift. His family was not a violent family, nor were they hunters, but his father refused to let him go across the country to some hippie-dippie state without protection. Kyle recalled how awkward a moment it was when his father told him not to “accidently shoot himself”.

So why was he holding it again? It seemed like another lifetime ago when he had the idea. He read somewhere online that those who are depressed should just “suck it up and appreciate being alive more”, and if they are really so defeated they should lock themselves in a room with a gun with one bullet for a night and decided how strong their will to live is. Is that what he was doing? That seemed that such an idiotic idea in retrospect. Yet here he was: revolver in hand, one bullet in the chamber, and no good reason not to pull the trigger. His mind was racing, trying to hold onto something worth the agony of being without, but he was drawing blanks. He did not want to die, his body made that perfectly clear, but at the same time it seemed like he was not strong enough to fight whatever possessed him to pick up that gun. He put the barrel to his temple and waited...nothing happened. There was no life changing vision or realization that everything will turn out okay, no happy endings, and no foreseeable future. He expected tears to come from somewhere, he expected someone to stop him, but no one came. No last minute texts, calls, or tweets. His Facebook had been open this entire time, and he had not so much as received a notification. He pulled back the hammer of the revolver and proceeded to put his finger on the trigger. No more games and no more pain. Everything about this was wrong, but at this point he was too numb to think about it anymore. He looked blankly at his computer screen, not able to see his reflection because the monitor was too bright, and prepared himself for a sweet relief.

 He was slowly closing his eyes and saying his goodbyes when he realized he had left no note. Kyle was surprised that he could be so insensitive as to leave no parting message behind. With his final solution still in hand he goes to type something as a status update when he noticed it was his little sister’s birthday. How could he forget such a thing? How long had he been sitting here? It was at this point he broke down and wept harder than he had his entire life. He dropped the gun and ran to the bathroom to vomit. He emptied what seemed like his entire soul before passing out on his bathroom floor. When he awoke he expected some big change but there was none. His small apartment was still suffocating and the gun was still ready to be fired, but there was something he missed. He had to call his sister today, otherwise she would hate him forever. He had also promised that he would show his friend around town the coming weekend because they had never been to the area before. He had things to do. The pain was still there, the feeling of nothingness was still present, but he had things to do. So he calmly put his revolver back into its case and placed it on the top shelf in his closet, where it shall sleep until it is called upon again. He opened his blinds because it was too dark in the room to find his phone otherwise, and proceeds to dial his sister’s phone.

In a passing thought he noticed that the sunlight coming through his window had never felt so strong. 

A letter from a fan

Dear Childish Gambino,

            I have never been one to obsess over celebrities. I used to openly mock people for their undying loyalty to Chris Brown, or their fantasies of one day meeting and winning the heart of their favorite celebrity heartthrob. In fact the only famous person I had a fixation on before you is Michael Jackson (without him I would never have started dancing and such). Anyway the point is that I want my words to convey a serious appreciation of thanks, not just be interpreted as a silly celeb obsession.

It started with cul-de-sac and camp the second semester of senior year in high school. I was blown away by this new found rapper (previously a comedian) who could articulate so well topics that I had been waiting for rappers to cover. From identity crisis and not feeling black enough to getting to a point where those who shunned you try to come back in your life it, it was all there. Not only that but the way you used music, and I do mean actual music, to accompany you made listening a pleasure. It got to a point where I wanted to learn more about you. Where was this man from, how was he able to be so easy to relate to, and how could I one day be like him? My then girlfriend at the time also became a fan of yours because I would not shut up about you to her.

See to me you were more than just a rapper, you stood for a symbol of change in an archaic music industry built upon a very stiff idea of hip-hop. In this world where talk of material possession somehow equates to happiness, things like self-discovery and hitting rock bottom were mysteriously vacant from mainstream rap. It was not important where you came from as long as the end result was a wealthy artist that sold records to aspiring fans. You showed me something different however. You spoke of depression and feeling lost. You spoke of how even having all the material things you want cannot make up for a basic emotional detachment from people. When I left my home to attend college across the country I made sure I was listening to your music for a big chunk of my flight. It gave me the motivation I needed to quell my fear of the unknown. If this rapper could break out of his comfort zone and speak his mind about topics that most of us keep silent about, then I can step foot on this plane.

When my insecurities started costing me my friends and I started shutting myself into my dorm freshmen year, singles from your EP were always there to help my through it. When I made mistakes and worried whether or not I had the strength to carry, I used Royalty to remind myself how powerful a positive mindset could be in life. Now I have an eclectic taste in music that stems from having a mother who blasts old school soul and R&B, a father who loves jazz and funk, and a middle school spent trying to find my own music and ending up with linking park and trapt. All this being said I find that it was because of you I started digging around for other not so well-known artists and stumbled upon greats like Chance, Jhene Aiko, Mac Millar, Janelle Monae, etc. I started developing an appetite for something new. For something that actually conveyed raw emotion and passion rather than a strict formula meant to sell. I wanted something different I could use to fuel my own creative energies. I wanted music that I found on my own and could be proud of.

You helped me find confidence. I figured if this man (a lost black nerd much like myself) can find his niche and become an inspiration, then what the hell was I doing sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I used to look up to you with wide eyes and blind admiration, now I see you as a person that I want to surpass. I want to use the messages I have gathered from your music, shows, interviews, and blog posts to further develop my own style. I remember you saying in your music that you await the day all your followers realize they do not need a leader, and I understand that now more than ever before. I still have nothing but the utmost respect for you, even though I will probably never meet you. I just figured I should put it out there that one day a fellow outcast will come up in the world, and outcast whose goals is to help those who have given up on themselves and show them that they have strength they never knew they had. That outcast will be me, and you will be a huge reason that I found the courage to stand up and find my own way.

Thanks for all your help,

Zeke “Optimus” Starling

              

The Concept Of A Human Caricature

Before I start I would like to say that nothing I am about to say comes from a place of superiority. I am not ultimate judge when it comes to human nature or how people act and this is simply me giving my opinion on a concept that was brought to my attention earlier today.

This week I started following a Youtuber by the name of Satchbag’s Goods. The content of this channel consists of in-depth video game analysis with connections to rich themes and the real world. It is a great place to check out if you are a diehard gaming fan; or just want to expand your mind. Anyway, plugging aside one of his videos brought up the concept of a caricature and it struck me as interesting. The basic idea he brought up is that humans have a habit of defining others by the one thing that stands out about them most. For example, say if someone robbed you, then you might go out of your way to say that person is “nothing but a thief”. That seems correct right? They wronged you in a specific way so you respond by remembering and defining them by their specific action. The problem with this is that in thinking this way we no longer treat that person as a whole, but as a caricature of what that person really is.

By Caricature I simply mean that the person is treated as an exaggerated representation of who they really are. It is not possible for someone to be “nothing but a thief,” because for that to be the case they would literally have to be stealing something every minute of every day. Now I know some of you may argue that that is simply a figure of speech and not meant to be taken literally but think about it this way, how many people do you define by one specific thing? How many people have you burned bridges with because of the one time they cheated on you, the one time they lied to you, the one time they made a mistake? We are so quick to write people off for one thing without having in all of the information present, but when we do this we are writing off the person for something their caricature did to offend us. The way Satchbag put was “taking a 2D view of a 3D world”. We are all guilty of this, hell I do this all the time, but why does this happen Why are we as humans so able to categorize others by their most bare traits and then decide what kind of person they are based off of that? Part of my thinks it is a defense mechanism and another part of me thinks it is just a refusal to relate.

As a defense mechanism it makes sense that we make caricatures of people and use that to keep them in line. Life is dangerous and we simply do not have the time to learn everything about everyone. We need to think quick and make decisions about people on the fly so we pick out what is important (or not important) about them and use that to define them.  He stole from me  therefore I cannot trust him, she abuses children  so I will not leave my children with her, he has always been there for me so maybe now I will give him a chance, etc. It makes perfect sense and you should not feel bad if this blog has suddenly made you aware that you do this. The only downside of this natural phenomenon is that is horribly unfair to the people we strip the personalities of. If you are in a bad mood and you yell at your significant other because of it, then you KNOW why you did it. You know it was because you woke up and were late for work, stubbed your toe, whatever. You have a 3D view of yourself because you know yourself. However if your significant other gets all at your throat you may not be so quick to dismiss their temper  as  “just a bad day”. We can never know someone as well as ourselves and this very fact leads us to not be able to understand everyone else’s 3D personality. We can try but it will always be easier to take the high ground and confuse a caricature for a person.

Now in response to all this I ask the question of what can we do to change this. Is there a reason to change this? I am sure this skill has saved us all the annoyance of a bad friend, annoying roommate, or a terrible date. But does that make what we do right? Is it possible for us to take the time to get a 3D image of all the people in our lives? I personally think it is, even if we cannot know anyone like we know ourselves, I think it is worth it to try and understand everyone you love as much as you are personally able to. It will help if a strain is put in your bond to know that Blank person is more than “that guy who lied to me once”, or “the girl who is overacting”. This is personally why I make it a point to not talk trash about my Exes. No matter where we may be now there was something that attracted me to the people I was with and we shared bond that kept us happy for some time. Even if the times change I honor that that person is still someone who was able to make me happy at some point in history. Now, there are some people whom even when you learn everything about them, they will still not be worth your time and it is okay to realize that. I am not saying you should be a saint and try to give everyone a fair shot, because some folk genuinely do not deserve it. What you might want to try next time you are arguing with someone or talking ill about someone you care about, is to consider the whole picture. Consider what that person is going through or how they might have felt, and make sure that you are not just mad at the caricature of a person you have stripped down in your mind.

Star World Thoughts.

Letting out the hot air…

Being someone who constantly crumbles under the weight of his own baggage, I used writing as a way to get some of the stress off my shoulders. By sharing everything I feel with everyone ranging from complete strangers to close friends I can convince myself that I am not alone in my quest for sanity and life gets a little easier because of it. So if you are a returning reader of the Star World then I thank you for reading my attempts at wittiness and truth. If this is your first time reading, then welcome to the Star World, a place where I get to carve out my own little niche of clarity.

Ever since my mental state started interfering with my life I have gotten into the extreme habit of saying “I’m sorry” a lot, and I hate it. Not because I hate the phrase itself, but because I hated saying I’m sorry to someone knowing that I will probably just often them again. I have cursed people, insulted them, ignored their help, and worried them with constant musings of my depression or suicidal tendencies. I want to stop that. Now that I am on a hot streak of being able to get out of bed and be happy about it (what an achievement right?) I can finally see how much of a strain I put on a lot of my relationships. I put a lot of pressure on friends and girlfriends and then got angry or irrationally sad when they couldn’t support my enormous weight, and that is just downright unfair. So I am sorry to anyone I have scorned in the past year or so, hell I am sorry to anyone I have ever hurt. I know just how selfish and hard to deal with I have been but I have been doing much better. I won’t go into detail about ever way I hurt every person, but know that if something went down with us and it was my fault, I know about it. And if you think I don’t feel free to tell me and I’ll admit to any wrongs I have committed. I believe to be a good person you have to accept that there is bad in you, that you will make mistakes, hurt people, and have to burn bridges for something that could have been avoided. The upside to that, however, is that by accepting your faults you get wiser, wise enough to save your relationships and not let your past define everything about you. So while this is a blanket apology, it does not mean I am going to stop learning and improving myself in every way possible. People love to quote a tiny green alien who says “there is no try, there is only do or do not”, and I have long been done trying to get better. Now is the time to do.

That latter half of this is me letting go of a lot of dumb stuff that I have held onto for no good reason. I used to wish I was more popular with women, not that I have any desire to be a womanizer (that takes way too much effort and charisma for my tastes) but I just felt like it would be nice to be desired by people. As shocking as it may seem I used to be shy and hate talking to anyone or anything. I hide myself from the world because I knew that at least then I would be safe. I wanted to be liked but I refused to make myself likable in anyway (if that makes sense) and until recently I have still put so much time and effort into making sure people like me and that is just…stupid. We all want to be loved but that comes at a price. You should NEVER compromise any part of your person just to be loved by others. If you are an oddball you will find other oddballs to roll with (as I did), if you are a serious dude then you will find other serious dudes, and if you feel you don’t deserve to be here then I guarantee you are not alone and will find others like you. All it takes is one little thing: being content with who you are. If you can look yourself in the mirror and say, “eh I’m a 6 out of 10” I think that is one of the healthiest things you can do. We are so used to either building ourselves up or tearing ourselves down that we rarely take the time to just sit and be proud that we survived another day. I wished I had more people because I didn't appreciate the people I had near me, and this carried on for a while. I would hurt friends and find new ones until one day there was a group of people I just could not leave. It took me being and idiot to see that who I am is pretty okay…like seriously I am a pretty cool dude most days. It is not easy to be content with yourself and it is something that no one can teach you, but if I can learn it so can you, and you will be much happier because of it.

I am trying to own up to everything I am so I can improve upon myself and accomplish my goals. I want to be a writer, I want to start a dance company, I want to be a therapist, and most of all I want to help people realize that there is more to life than feel like you should not exist. I’m sorry to the people who were with me through the lowest times and know that I love you for not giving up on me. I feel like my posts are getting predictable and I do not want that. So here is to positive futures and learning from the past. You are going to do things you regret and a lot of times you will hate yourself for it, but we are strong enough to look at a broken mirror and still see ourselves in the reflection.

And in the Star World we are all on that path to becoming our true selves. 

A little bit of nothing

I think too much. I was trying to think of a clever metaphor but I think it is much more effective to just write how I think. Which of course means there are going to be an abundance of words that I throw just for the sake of extending a sentence. Sometimes I hate my brain. More specifically I hate that I feel as though my brain works on a different level than others. Not in a more advance, but in a more personal way. Things that don’t get to other people get to me, I internalize tragedies that happen across the country and treat them as if they happened to my family. I go above and beyond to try and solve my friend’s problems because the problem gets to me personally. I like to tell myself that this will help me in my therapeutic future but this is probably unhealthier that I give it credit for.

My mind also has a hard time distracting itself. What I mean by that is that if there is something on my mind, there is almost nothing I can do to get it out. Even by end all solution of dancing cannot clear my head in extreme cases. If there’s a girl I’m into then I cannot stop thinking about her, if there is an event coming up that I am excited about then there is no calming me down, and on the negative side if there is a problem in my life then it will stay with me all day and night. This is a tad bit irritating as you can probably tell, because it seems like everyone I know is better at distracting themselves then I am. Or at the very least they are better at acting like they are distracting themselves.

I realize now that this probably does not make a lot of sense, but such is the curse of my writing style. Its honest and confusing, much like my personality. Hey a simile! Look at that I am already making progress. I guess the point of this is just that I had a random thought and it carried its way through my fingers and onto this post you are now reading. It is kind of funny how the tiniest spark of nothing can build until you have…well something. That something may not be important, but it is more than the nothing that came before it. I’m so used to letting my mind wander and linger, yet still surprised at some of the thoughts I have. Still surprised at how far my nothing has come, and I can only hope that it becomes a very important something one day.