07. Finding the Rhythm, Pt.1

Like most people, I decided to join in and set a new year’s resolution for myself. Eating healthier, working out, and saving more money tend to be the go-tos, but I started those a while ago. This year, I decided to challenge myself to slow down. I tend to leap towards any opportunity that piques my interest despite my exhaustion at that given time. Though helping a cause seems valiant at the core, I have to teach myself the importance of balancing selflessness and selfishness. Time and energy are finite resources and, as such, I have to preserve some time and energy for myself (i.e. a form of self-care). Along with this challenge came an interest in gardening. I’ve thought about it for some time as the mamas of my family often grew flowers and vegetables. I think there’s a special connection when tilling the soil. It reminds me of cooking or making art. The connection of my hands and senses with creation to form sustenance is enchanting. With that in mind, I looked at the many things—or, gardens, in this case—I’ve juggled over the past two years. I realized how difficult it was to manage the current and simultaneously build the new. So 2019’s resolution became clear—nurture what I have and learn its rhythm. If only it were that easy.

“Am I doing this teaching thing ‘right’?”

January proved to be an extremely trying month. I’ve had my fair share of existential crises, but this one (or these few, to be honest) hit very close to home. Basically, I questioned my merit as both an artist and art educator. As a creative, I struggled to understand what title would be the most appropriate for my wide and diverse skillset. Additionally, I felt I lost my hunger to make, my passion for curiosity, my desire to exercise my creative voice, and most importantly, my imagination. As an educator, I felt intimidated by a wall with the following question spray painted on it—“Am I doing this teaching thing ‘right’?” I was paralyzed by these obstructions while I floundered through the first weeks of the Spring semester.

While all of this was happening, a student of mine began researching the idea of social media negatively impacting artists and creatives. One Friday night, I came across an awesome video from Lucid Pixul that happened to discuss this concept a bit more in-depth. When I watched the video, many feelings emerged from a deeply hidden area within my heart. Briefly, Adam—the mastermind behind Lucid Pixul—talked about the rhythm that social media has and how each artist has their own unique beat that may not fall in sync with social media’s tempo. The video that followed elaborated on this concept of individualized rhythm, along with his personal experiences collaborating with fellow artists, working at in-house studios, and developing artwork independently. Soon after, I entered the Youtube rabbit hole and found myself watching his video, “Are You Chasing After the Wrong Art Career?” To be straightforward, this is where things got real.

I was fashioned along the educational assembly line to be a colorful cog…

Adam referenced a lecture from Jordan Peterson that discussed how people have one of two different mindsets: either a creative mindset or an industrial mindset. These schools of thought apply to artists as well. As I watched the video, I realized that I have a more creative headspace than industrial. Meaning, I prefer to be a risk-taker and project-starter than function under a standard and mundane routine. I recalled my experience working in a studio setting and how unhappy I was with the day-to-day regimen. As an educator, I’m afforded both stability and creative freedom in my approach to teaching and learning. This balance has led to both happiness and personal fulfillment. Though this reassured me, I wasn’t quite sure where my internal conflict originated. So I allowed those feelings to marinate for a while until I took a drive down memory lane.

As I reminisced on the good ol’ school days, I realized that I was taught in an industrial manner. I, like most students, was taught to learn the skills, understand the programs, develop a resumé, obtain the job, and make it work. In hindsight, I was fashioned along the educational assembly line to be a colorful cog for a creative machine and to figure out the rest on my own. It‘s an industrial method, but I guess that’s why it’s called “the industry”. I’ll elaborate on my years of school to provide context about this identity crisis.

The one thing I missed the most was the act of wondering and the joy of asking myself, “what if?”

My time in undergrad and grad school was filled with wonderful moments. However, my recent observation of my educational tenure revealed why I’ve faced so much internal conflict recently. My studies focused on Computer Graphics (CG) and 3D Animation. Simultaneously, I taught myself Graphic Design as a failsafe in case being an animator didn’t pan out as I intended. I learned these disciplines industrially, not creatively nor conceptually. I also developed two animation-based projects that I felt were subpar in all regards, as I never knew the importance of thesis research. Basically, I was taught things have to be made a certain way in order for them to be “correct”, “acceptable”, or “worthy of employment”. As I learned more about animation as a storytelling medium, the unique and diverse aesthetics I’ve come across led me to ask “wait…there’s more than one way to animate stories?”

Additionally, I grew disconnected from CG. I learned that I enjoy (and crave) more tactile experiences with art. The smell of inks, the textures of paper, and the aroma of supplies stimulate every fiber of my brain and spirit. Building worlds and directing performances in a digital landscape with only a mouse felt “lifeless” to me. Interestingly, I saw the documentary “Never-Ending Man: Hayao Miyazaki” late last year. There was a very powerful scene that showed Miyazaki’s disgust with an AI-generated animation sequence. That segment, which is linked here, summarized my disdain for CG/3D. A similar realization happened with graphic design that I rambled about a while back. Despite all of these experiences, the one thing I missed the most was the act of wondering and the joy of asking myself, “what if?”

If I can be truthful, I’m afraid of aimlessly wandering.

Cindy Meyers Foley, a fellow TEDx speaker, visited Jacksonville in early February. I’ve studied her TEDx talk and applied it to my educational approach, so I was enthused to hear her latest research on artistic and creative thinking. I jotted down many notes throughout her presentation, but the following highlights really struck a chord with me: she defined creativity as the process of using imagination and critical thinking to generate new ideas that have value; she shared three of the most important aspects of creativity—wonder, curiosity, and questioning/inquiry; and she expressed the benefits that occur when we celebrate failures. Some of the information wasn’t new to me, but it was refreshing and near-revolutionary to hear someone verbalize the thoughts I pondered. The gentle reminder of the beauty in wonderment and curiosity sparked memories of why I loved to draw in the first place. I departed from the experience revitalized. Most importantly, I knew that I was ready to overcome the identity crisis I was up against.

I often convene with two of my closest friends who are also artists. We’ve had many conversations that almost always resulted in, “dude, just do it. Make the work! That’s the only way you’ll know for sure.” Through these heart-to-hearts, I’ve become a master at pitching motivation to those who need it most. It was only a matter of time before I became my next client. If I can be truthful, I’m afraid of aimlessly wandering. Whenever I feel like the ocean is pulling me in all directions, I feel hopeless. Though, I’m working on my perception of these emotional cyclones. Instead of dread, I’m allowing the universe to guide me wherever it needs to. It’s a rhythm I never liked dancing to, but I’m learning the steps as the beat embeds itself in my bones. I’m finding my groove through the initial stumbles and trip ups. And, surprisingly, I’m enjoying it! My soul is savoring this flavor. A flavor I tasted before but couldn’t appreciate until I was more cultured. I’m being guided to so many new places and to that I say, let’s see where the rhythm takes me!

–Rhythm