Melancholy...

When reality hits you, it often leaves a mark... Speechless, sightless in the dark, you fumble around for the lost meaning of it all.

Angry...

How could you do this to me? No... no... no... This can't be happening.

Hungry...

Eat it all up... fill yourself to the brim. Shiny, plentiful excess...

Happy...

Living the dream... what more could you want?

Ah yes, the timeless collage... The intimidation of millions of possibilities... the inescapably lenghty process of cutting, pasting and finding meaning in the mundane, soul to the shiny, creativity in the colorful, and dreams in the dirty. Collage is so... hard. I think I struggled with it because you're starting at square zero with raw material, but it's not blank... it's already been assigned a certain purpose. It's up to you to re-arrange and consequently, re-assign that purpose, and you have no excuse not to.

I mean seriously. It's not like you can say "I don't have the skills/material/balls to collage." If you've ever attended preschool, you can collage. The trick though, is infusing these mountains of scrap paper with meaning, above the ones they've already been given... and no one ever taught me THAT in preschool. Hmm. Maybe this university stuff will be useful after all, eh? ^__-

Anyway, the first one is 34>12 : I took the numerical aspect of the title maybe a little literally at first, illustrating one pumpkin, opposing an insane group of them... But I thought the image also became more of a "the power of 1" thing after a while as well, illustrating isolation, fear, but also power with the belief in oneself, when faced with adversity. (Taking myself too seriously again? Maybe.)

The second is "I want to fly": I used a flying fish as a metaphor, when I realized that one of the pieces of paper I'd torn resembled something vaguely aquatic, so I went with it. It's jumping off the confines of the page, escaping the structured, confined symmetry of the lower half. My artsy-fartsy friends and I used to joke around that I was a "symmetry whore", and you can see it here... I like having symmetrical values of color, and the black bars balance themselves out, creating a very ordered, calculated sort of "fish tank", from which the colorful, lively fish is trying to escape.

The third is "monkey": This one I took sort of literally at first, exploring the whole "hairy" aspect of our primate cousins. I tried to use very sketchy, chaotically patterned paper, and ripped the images of a guy who had quite a lot of stubble on his face, as well as a chain around his neck, simulating captivity, like perhaps in a zoo of some kind. Then I realized: Hey, this guy's just a monkey like the rest of us... And when you deconstruct the features of all humans, the resemblance is not so far off at all.

The fourth in line is my self portrait: It seems a little obvious, as that is a distorted image of myself... But you don't get more "me" than that. I like blue, swirling, organic lines, symetry and lots of negative.............(space).

Anyway... I'll be posting the rest soon. ^_^

Obviously, everyone will have been talking about this... and everyone has seen and heard, due to the resulting mediatic frenzy... but I nevertheless find it necessary to mention the events which transpired at Dawson College on Wednesday the 13th.

I attended Dawson for almost 4 years, trying to find my niche in the arts... my sister attends now. She was supposed to be there... but by some twist of fate, she was at the dentist's getting her wisdom teeth removed. My friends were there, though. I remember how panicked I felt, trying to reach them on their cells, all afternoon, as I was stuck at work, at a computer screen, monitoring the unfolding drama on the net. It was pure lunacy.

I'm not going to try and not get too personal or ranty on this particular blog... but I don't know how I'll fair.. I'm already dealing with the goings-on in my own personal manner, so instead, I'll focus here on thoughts which occurred to me after the dust had settled a bit, which might pertain to what we're learning here.

We spoke in class a few times about the human-technology element... and in fact, this entire computation arts program seems focused on that aspect... the growing interphase between humans and technology/media and its influence on our culture, on art... and in light of these recent events, what came to light for me was our dependance on technology. I suppose it wasn't any life-changing revelation... but rather just a re-confirmation of what I, and most people, already know, I guess.

How I fumbled for my cell-phone, in hopes of news. How I kept my eyes glued to the computer screen, my finger compulsively clicking the refresh button, on the cbc news site. How the media flew in, like some sort of vulture-peeping-tom hybrid, ogling, picking apart, and casting a shadow of general anxiety over the already dire situation. I was disgusted at how the media had, within hours of the event, already linked the situation to the Polytechnique incident. How, within minutes, they had targeted students for commentary, rather than being helpful and compassionate. How they had flocked police, instead of letting them do their much-needed job. How they sought the most grisly, horrifying images of the scene, and plastered them all over the web, all over the television, and this morning, all over the paper. How they frothed at the mouth at this event, just beneath their barely containable facade of sombre concern. And more alarmingly... how I could not look away.

And the worst part is that this happens everyday. Pardon my cynicism, but while the events at Dawson did touch me on a very personal level, these are not isolated incidents. Violence, shootings, war... it happens every day, but only when it explodes in our backyards do we look up from our PC's, PDA's, cells and MP3's for a moment, hoping to find something human behind the images, because for once, we actually felt something human, above the humming of electronic equipment. Because we actually connected, for a change, with what was going on, and who was behind those images.

"Wow, this is insane, it's like the U.S," I remember hearing.

Wake up. This happens everywhere, everyday... and we are so force-fed it that we've become completely blind. Are we so unseeing, so indifferent, that it takes our next-door neighbors, our classmates, our friends, dodging bullets for us to finally give a crap?

I guess it does. But I'm not blaming us. I'm not even saying it's humanly possible to care about everything that happens in the world, and in fact, I'm not advocating that it's even healthy to do so. But who is to blame? Technology? Our unfailing reverence towards it? The media? Our unfailing reverence to it?

Whatever your views are, not many can deny that this sort of re-awakening, in the face of something like this, is a symptom of how de-sensitized we've become. Sure, we give a damn now... but give it a week. There will be something else, and even juicier to ogle at. And whose fault is that? The media? Us? Society? It's easy to point the finger at the usual suspects, and it's actually not so far from the truth.

The usual crap: Blame the media. Blame the government. Blame society. Make money off it all.

We are lucky, as art students, to be expected to have a social conscience. Not expected per se... but it's generally encouraged in the art field, since art is so intermingled with culture, to know about what's going on in society, and to be generally more aware than the average bear. Perhaps this might sound elitist, but I'm not excluding anyone else... I just mean that being an "artist", means seeing the deeper meaning of things...seeing the face behind the mask, so to speak. Or at least trying to. We are lucky to be encouraged to truly "see"... We are lucky that our learning environment allows us to question, to explore, to deconstruct, to create. As such however, we do have a responsibility. We're lucky to be aware... but given this, should we allow ourselves to just watch?

Events like this force everyone awake from the comfortable dream of indifference... so what do we do now? What CAN we do? If we're to believe the media, it always seems like "everything is under control"...and that the average person becomes sort of irrelevant in the fight against whatever it is that's causing these problems.

I began to re-evaluate my role in light of these events... my power... as a student, as an artist, as a person. We all feel the need to react to this. What can I do? As soon as the Media takes over, we're just along for the ride, right? And when they say it 's over, we get off, don't we.

I realized, for the hundreth time over, whether it be about Dawson, Columbine, the War on Terror, or Martha Stewart, that my expanse of control over this web of media is limited. It feels like we're doomed to be viewers, which I find ironic, considering that I want to create art for a living, and someday have viewers of my own. Given such power, what would I grant my viewers? Either way, in light of this, I feel that all I can do is use this wakeup-call, and continue to question, to be outraged, to connect... to feel. I refuse to be numb.

So... I'm disconnecting, to re-connect. I'm turning off the cell, finishing up the blog, killing the pc... and collecting my thoughts.

And that's what this is all about, isn't it? Thoughts. Thinking. NOT listening to the radio... NOT watching the TV... NOT letting someone else saturate you with "terror", "violence in young people" and "fear". We all know it's true, we're all afraid, even though God knows that next week, we'll probably have returned to being blissfully ignorant automatons. (Hell, I don't claim to be above it... I'm waiting for "Dawson's Freak : The Untold Story of Kimveer Gill" to air on Global in 3 months.) But for now, we all feel it. We don't need to be so quickly smothered with it, drowned in it. We need a moment to feel... a moment to take in, to mourn, to care. We have at least that within our power. To be human. It might take a lot sometimes to re-awaken that, maybe less for us artsy types, but still... any chance to re-affirm my humanity is an opportunity I'll gladly use, to evaluate what's really important. Such clarity is rare and precious on any front, whether it be artistic or personal.

So since we're all awake now, for this precious split second where our humanity's been forcefully uprooted, turn off that damned Heather Hiscox and go hug your loved ones. Draw a picture. Have a conversation, talk about it.

Disconnect, and reconnect.

It's always so difficult to start a blog... much in the same way as it is to create an image, or any work of art, really.

You've got that blank page stretched out before you, with all its freedom and possibilities.. and you're the one that has to decide its direction, you're the one who ultimately is imprinting the ideas onto it. Wherever you go, it goes... whatever identity you give it, is what, or who it becomes. Sketching that first line, typing those first words...and what if you're wrong? What if that once-white, pristine ideascape goes to waste?

Well... there's no going back.

No going back, because despite the inherently daunting responsibility of directing such a creation, is there anything sadder than a blank page? Anything more desolate than a yellowed piece of paper tainted only by wasted potential?

And that's what this is really all about, isn't it, this art school stuff... Harnessing that rarely occuring phenomenon that is creativity, and putting it to use? Not just letting our ideas waste away in our heads, with a blank paper trail in our wake...

Now's the time to give them life, isn't it? We've been given this terrific opportunity... the opportunity to unleash those ideas that would otherwise wither with age, with indifference, obligations or overly busy circumstance...

We've been offered this enormous blank page, the dimensions of which cannot even be measured... boundless and shining with possibility. I'll respect it, yes. I'll be thoughtful and careful... but I'll be damned if I let it go to waste. Now's the time to really start working it out... to really take the plunge. Now's the time to get my hands dirty...

Because really, is there anything sadder than a blank page?