Post Five: Hitting the Road

As I have mentioned before, my relationship to New York is odd for a dorming New School student because I actually go home -- to my house, an hour upstate.  Naturally, the road I use to get to and from these two places is a bit of a routine, not to mention something I have come to trust as a part of my big, at-least-four-year city experience.  This week, I interrupted the drive to take photos of Orange Turnpike (the first/last major thoroughfare I see when traveling to/from the city) and, more specifically, what recent rains have done to it.

I found that there was something very dangerous about the whole experience -- pulling over, walking the shoulder, taking pictures of the hollowed pavement that looks like it might snap any second, etc.  While I'm normally a total wuss when it comes to being frightened, I was given quite the adrenaline rush.  I think  it was because I viewed the whole thing semi-artistically.  I let that sense of danger inspire rather than frighten me.  It was kind of like one of those beautiful natural disasters or something -- like a tornado; you know it's pretty dangerous, but when you see it, you stare because it's just that cool.  I understand that tornadoes do more damage than potholes, but you get the idea.  I was moved by how the broken road made me stop and think, and I want to design things that do the same.

This picture was so scary to take -- but at the same time, I wanted so badly to be on the other side, to see what the underside of the road looked like.   

This is the most treacherous-looking part of the road, and possibly the most awe-inspiring.  It looks like the wake of something; it makes me want to know exactly what happened.  

I love the way the Komatsu visually hugs the road.  Something about that relationship seems just twisted enough to fit perfectly within the photo-shoot.  It makes me want to walk through the yellow arm and look at the road.  I'd love to imbue that kind of desire.  

I'm obsessed with how chronological this scene is; I can tell how the road buckled before it caved -- like a fossil.  

While this close-up might not look too devastated, I think it speaks volumes.  The horizontal divide separates the two kinds of pavement" the dark, cracked original, and the cobbly, loose, newly fallen addition.  I just like the subtle and deep contrast.  

Post Four: Now That I Think Of It...

My inspiration images from last week sent me scouring all the supermarkets and gardens I know in search of funny-looking fruit.  I guess you could say that idea inspired me this week, when I decided to zoom out a little bit, and look at my dad's garden for all that it is.  Albeit less kitschy, this week's topic (and the accompanying images) go a lot deeper into the things I appreciate as a person and as an artist.

I again went searching for images I previously hadn't expected to find, but this time I was inspired by the subjects themselves, their environment, and the story behind them.  I found that  the more I viewed the garden as my dad's own artistic creation, the more inspired I became.

These onions, for example, are grown by my dad, then cooked by my mom into what is literally the most delectable sauce anyone will ever taste.  

Even though these berries grew wild, my dad is still just as proud of them.  He'll say, "Did you see what grew in the garden?!"  It's ridiculously adorable.  

He planted these vines a few years ago, they died, and then they were briefly revived this year.  Though I can count the number of successful grapes on one hand, I still find this image inspiring; my dad grew that grape, and he's proud of it.  

Here's a bench that's been overtaken by weeds.  What I love this is the fact that it looks frozen in time -- like the mint plant that once sat there might still be somewhere underneath the dry icicle-like stalks.  

Another comment to the sporadic dismay throughout the garden, this messy-yet-beautiful spiderweb and the determination of its creator reminded me of my dad and his impassioned hobby.  

Post Three: Funky Fruits

This Eggplant came from my dad's garden back home.  I saw it and was instantly reminded of the book How Are You Peeling?  Food with Moods by Saxton Freyman and Joost Elfers.  I love this book's creative eye -- that's really the only way I can describe it ("it" being the authors' ability to see things, like faces, in commonplace fruits and vegetables).
When I saw this eggplant, it immediately brought me back to these authors and their talent, while inspiring me to use my creativity similarly.

 So cute.

I love this thing from every angle.

Seriously, I can't get enough.

This is the book -- I highly recommend it.

Post Two: Getting There

Things to know before you view these pictures: 


My relationship with New York is not the average one.  I was born and raised just forty miles away in a  suburb of the city.  Given that, I stay here when I want to, and go home when I don't.  Traveling in between my two homes may seem tiring, but I think it's what makes me appreciate each setting more.  


Also, I love cars.  


This past week, my mom and I went on a little adventure to a car dealer on Route 17 in New Jersey; I pass it every time I go to or from school.  

Cutest.  Dashboard.  Ever.  

I fell in love with the retro design of the 500.  

I really couldn't help myself.  

What a small car.  So cute.  

This is seriously the best parking job I've ever done.  It's only because the car is half the size of my Jeep, but still.  

Post One: Retrospective

I think my aesthetic is pretty well exemplified by my previous work.  I like organized and traditional styles, as well as clever and unconventional ones.  If I were to make a list of things I like (artistically speaking), it would most certainly include: 

almost any medium

art that makes me happy

multiple meanings (usually two)

neatness & organization

personal connections & self-representation

politically neutral items

puns & general cleverness

simplicity

tasteful uniformity

traditional methods & styles

using art to accomplish tasks

writing lists & alphabetizing them

I think the thing I like most about art and creating it is the feeling I get when I'm done.  I love investing time in a project and then seeing it fully realized.  It's ridiculously rewarding.  I especially enjoy being proud of what I make.  Recognition from others is amazing, but the pieces that resonate most with me are the ones in which I was literally invested (time, money, fingertips, etc.).  

 I used this in my portfolio to apply to Parsons!  It's made of magazine clippings.  I remember getting the idea and being pretty excited to make it.

 This was a project (my final) from 2DIS Fall 2010.  I loved learning color theory, and this was kind of a culmination of what we had been learning.

This was my Fall 2010 Drawing final.  It's based on the back of a playing card from 1936.  I made it in memory of my grandpa; his name is written all over the background.  I loved making this.  

This was from a high school project.  I had to make a replica of a piece of art; I chose Roy Lichtenstein's Sleeping Muse and used matches that I spraypainted black.  My mom loves it and now it sits on the mantle at home.

This is my polyhedron project from 3D Fall 2010.  I used white sheet metal, plexiglass, wire mesh, and white rivets.  I loved doing the math that went along with this.