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.