Stereotype Smasher!

   I've always hated stereotypes. They seem to dominate our culture though, looming over each individual reminding us of the "flaws" and "imperfections" we have. However, those "flaws" and "imperfections" are not necessarily actual flaws, just ways that we differentiate from others. As I stated, I have always hated stereotypes. Why, you ask? Well, I am not a stereotype. I don't live up to any of them. Ready for me to show you? First things first, I'm male. However, I don't really like sports but I do love shopping. I have no desire to be an engineer or a doctor, no, I want to be an artist. I have a higher pitched voice and I scream like a girl, seriously. I talk a lot. I like things to be super organized. I actually do enjoy cleaning. I love to cook, and not on a grill, just your every day kitchen cooking. Baking? Heck yes!! So, as you can see, I'm not the stereotypical guy. And I learned that quick because everyone in middle school and high school felt the need to point it out. And it led to me literally hating myself. I hated to hear my voice. I hated to see myself in the mirror. I'm not the guy every said I should be, and so I hated myself. But why?

   Luckily for me, I had a truly great group of friends and I have an outstanding family. My friends kept the stereotypical comments to a low, although occasionally even they would throw out a reminder of the things I hated. My family has been the same way, but they are much better at keeping my mind off of the stereotypes. My mom has been one of the biggest helps for me. I've talked to her for hours about the things that I hate. She always knows what to say and how to help. I guess it helped that she had been through some similar experiences when she was younger. Over time my friends and family helped me to learn that it was okay to be me. It didn't matter that I wasn't the stereotype, it was okay for me to be my unique self. It's been a rough road, and I'm still traveling that road. There are still days when I hate myself, but they are growing fewer and less common. But this isn't about me, this is about the stereotypes of society.

   So, where does that tie in? Well, I'm a major music junkie. Major. I will listen to just about anything and then instantly love it. And recently I've noticed a change in our music. We're now just singing about how much we love sex and partying anymore. And we're also getting over the sappy or depressing love stories. No, we're moving into something new, and it's something that I believe is breaking the walls of our stereotypes. Two songs in particular have really hit me recently. One is by Meghan Trainor (that's right, All About that Bass) and the other is by Taylor Swift (Shake it Off). Both songs have been simultaneously loved and hated by the general population. The people who love these songs hear the message that I hear. The haters? Well, as Taylor tells us, "haters gonna hate". The message that I get from both of these songs is to just be you, and forget about the stereotypes! Meghan specifically focuses on the weight of women, saying that it's okay to not be a "stick-figure, silicone barbie-doll". Taylor just encourages people to "shake it off", referring to the judgments of other people.

   As one who has struggled with self-esteem because of the taunts of the stereotypes we project, I can't help but love these songs. They move mountains in my mind. It's fine to be you! It's okay to be the stereotype-smashing kid who doesn't want to live in the shackles we've created. Just be you, and rock it! A coworker asked me last night if every one in my family was as 'odd' (she couldn't think of a better word at the time) as I am. I laughed a little and said "Nope, not really. I'm the clown of my family." And that's the truth. I am an individual. I'm not just like everyone else in my family, and I certainly do think of myself as quite unique in that setting. My name is James. I love to joke around, even with the most serious of topics. I love art. I love music. And I'm not a stereotypical person. No, I'm a stereotype smasher. They can't exist where I am, and I love it that way!

The Perks of Being an Art Major

So today was an adventure for me, one that made me question the future I have planned for myself. What was this adventure? Going to Utrecht Art Materials in Salt Lake to buy the materials I need for my Painting class. Have you ever looked at the prices of paints and other art supplies? If not, here's a quick rundown: 

37 ml. oil paint: $11.99 - $42.75

1 gallon of artist grade Gesso: $83.99

Assorted Hog Hair Paint Brushes: $6.80- $21.25

150 ml. oil paint: $42.99

32 oz. Turpenoid: $18.99

and the list could go on forever...

I assume that at this point I'm not the only one who is questioning my major. It's kinda pricey, in fact it's ridiculously pricey! And I completely skipped on buying watercolors today. Even still I spent close to $300 dollars on these supplies. (All the above prices are without the sale, which cut my bill in half!) So why do I stay in such a ridiculous major? There is no guarantee that I will make it big as an artist and most people think that being an art major is like throwing your future at the wall. So why stay? Why push yourself into the darkness, from which you may never emerge into light again? Well, this is the conclusion I came to. 

The reason we art majors are art majors is because we share a similar dream. What is that dream? That someday one of our very own pieces will hang in your home, in your office, on your lawn, in a renowned gallery. Maybe it's a far-stretched dream, but it is our dream. We share a love to create, a desire to express the inner being on an outer surface. Whether we work in clay or paint or chalk, we all want to be known as someone who creates beauty and inspires others to look at the world in a new light. 

Now let's think of some other majors. Finance, Economics, Biology, Chemistry, Nursing, again the list goes on forever. However, when a finance major finishes some big financial record, it's not something you want to hang on your wall as a memorandum of what they accomplished. When you have a new biological find you'll get praise and maybe you'll be in the books, but your find won't be found on the walls of the average citizen's home. As a nurse? Thanks for saving lives, but I'm not going to record your name all over my office because you helped my child when he was sick. 

But then there are the art majors. They've created a painting, maybe it's an abstract rendition of the community you grew up in or maybe it's a detailed painting of the scenic prairie. Where does that painting end up? In your home, in your office, but perhaps most importantly it engraves itself on your heart and in your mind. It becomes a symbol of you, although expressed by someone else. It comes to represent some part of your inner being, and is cherished by many for years to come. So when I'm not 'rolling in the dough' and I'm not 'making bank', that's okay. The perks of being an art major is that we are willing to drop our wallets on the counter and spend a fortune on supplies, all for the legacy we will leave for the future generations. The legacy that hangs in the home, in the office, in the heart. The legacy that is the perk of being an art major. 

My take on Success

Today I began my third semester here at BYU. This semester begins the series of semesters that will be filled with classes for my major, the classes I should enjoy the most. I began today with a technically-art-geared class that has more of a business ring to it. The class is called Creative and Critical Thinking and the focus of the class is to 'open our eyes' to the endless possibilities that lie ahead of us and to see the things we can do as an art major besides living in a cardboard box at the end of a dark alley. It was an awesome first day, but our teacher brought up an interesting question that gained a lot of diverse answers. What does success mean to you? (By this he meant when we will feel successful). As he read the responses of our class, I was truly shocked at how many people had written something about being famous or rich or having galleries all over the world. Is that what success means to you? Can you truly not be happy with yourself until you reach that goal? Because that is a lofty goal that, to be honest, may never be reached by most of us. Does that truly make us unsuccessful?

Let me tell you what my response was, or at least something like it. "Success for me is knowing that I am pleased with what I have done. There will always be someone who doesn't like your work, but if you like it then what else really matters?" You may now be thinking "Wow, James. That's good to say and all, but do you really believe it?" The answer to that is a simple yes. Now let me tell you why. 

I've loved art for a long time and as we all know good and well, art is subjective. Art isn't like math where there truly is only one right answer to an equation. It's not like science where you work to make one result. It's more like reading a book or watching a movie. While I love horror films, many people don't. While lots of people in the Mid-West like country music, I tend to despise the very name of country music. It's the same way with art. Not everyone loves surrealism or abstract. And when you are the creator of the work, you have to be tough in order to think about what people say, but also stand behind the work you have done. A weak artist simply cannot be pleased with what they do because there will always be someone who doesn't like it. For example: 

This is one of my favorite pieces that I have ever done. However, last year when I was displaying some art to my church ward, one of my best friends informed me that it was her least favorite and she didn't actually like it. At first I was a little hurt, but I still loved the piece. I knew the time and effort that I had put into this piece and I wasn't going to let one person's different opinion change how I felt about my work. In all the art classes I have taken thus far, we have had in-class critiques. There again you will listen to some people say they like the piece, others think you could add a little here of there, and then there will be those who honestly just hate your work. And that's okay! Because in the end, who are you trying to please? Who are you trying to voice through your work? If you've answered anyone other than yourself, I personally think you're missing the point. Art is about you expressing yourself. It's about your feelings, your desires, your personality. It's about the way you see the world. And so when you are pleased with your work, don't let others break you down by saying they don't like it. Let them have their opinions, and stand by your own. You and only you can create your work. 

In a later class (Art History actually), we discussed what art is and the professor displayed some quotes about art. I wanted to share a few of the ones that I loved, so here they are.

"Art is the most intense mode of individualism that the world has known."

Oscar Wilde

"Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time."

Thomas Merton

"All art is autobiographical; the pearl is the oyster's autobiography."

Frederico Fellini

And here I add my take on success and art: If you are pleased with what you've done, then what else truly matters?

Being in the Balcony

For the longest time I have had an awful problem with my self-esteem. I've never really felt like there was anything really special about me. However, I also feel like there is a purpose for everything that happens in life. I don't think God sent us here for no reason, and I do believe that God puts people in our life for a reason. So, your probably wondering now how or why these two things are coming up together and at this time. You'll have to read to the end to get that answer. 

So, I'm going to start with my low self-esteem. I don't really know what started it, but it probably had to do with the fact that I was pretty thoroughly bullied growing up. It wasn't like I was pushed into lockers or anything, but I know what people said about me in school, and it wasn't the greatest. And I was never the cool kid or the one with lots of friends, just me and my close friends and then everyone else with the rumors. Another factor was probably my seasonal depression that I didn't really know much about. I just lived with the fact that one day I was fine and the next day there was a storm of emotions in me that I didn't understand. So this is where I choose to start this story. 

It then takes a turn to a time of my life that was very hard. I had to decide whether I was going to go on a mission and continue my church life, or fall to the unknown future and let whatever came come. Around that time my parents encouraged me to get my patriarchal blessing. For those who don't know what that is, it is a blessing that tells you some of your gifts from God. A patriarchal blessing can include encouragement, warnings, and many other insights to life. I followed my parents encouragement and received my patriarchal blessing, but then spent many months (sometimes ongoing months) confused at what I was supposed to learn from it. I read it again last night and looked over it this morning and I think finally something has come out of it.  In my blessing there is a lot of talk about the influence I can have on other people. I've always read this as something for me to think about, you know, asking myself how I am affecting others. However, this never helped me to change the look I have about myself. And that is what the true story is here. God sending people into my path to remind me that I'm not just the person in the rumors. I have a purpose, and I do influence others for the better. 

So, now you're wondering what happened. Well, this past week one of my last mission companions came home. I went to a homecoming party for him and his sister, who also came home from a mission last week. Well, at this party we were talking with some of the other guests, and someone mentioned that this companion had some really good influences over the course of his mission. A few people looked to me. I had been this companions trainer. I was the first missionary he worked with while in Iceland, and from what I was told yesterday, I had a lasting impact on how he served his mission. I think back to my days in Iceland and I feel like nothing really special happened while we served together. I helped him get on his feet and get going, but besides that we just became good friends. However, I was told multiple times yesterday that he thinks highly of me as a missionary and as a friend. This was the final straw that helped me see what God has been trying to tell me for a while. I had a friend a while back ask me to be his best man at his wedding, and then when they got married earlier than expected I was one of the few people invited to that wedding. I have another friend who told me that I was, and still am, one of his best friends and one of a few people that he feels he can trust with anything. I've had many friends over the years who have trusted me with some of their biggest struggles. And I've always been there for them, but never looked at what I was doing or thought of why they came to me. And this weekend it hit me. We heard a talk in church about the influence that we can have on others. It was at that moment that I chose to express this saga of my life. It's kinda funny that it took this long to realize this. 

So to conclude my story, this week I tackled a question I have been fighting for a long time. What is so special about me? And I've realized that there is something special about me. God does have a purpose for me. I have a strong influence on others. But just like people say: You may never know the impact that you will have on other people. And so today I'd like to remind everyone that you do have an impact on others. And maybe it's not expressed right away, or maybe it never is expressed, but the influence has been felt by someone. And that someone will forever hold their memory of you in a special place. An art teacher encouraged me to "work for the balcony people. The people who come to the show because they love you, not just the show." Everyone has their balcony people, and I am beginning to realize that I have taken a seat in some of those balconies. So when life gets you down, remember that there is a seat saved just for you in someone's balcony. Live to be that balcony person. 

Where I want to be...

     I have a dream. My dream is much different from the one Martin Luther King Jr. coined this phrase from though. My dream is that one day I will get over whatever it is that causes me to concave into a depressive stage of life. I don't know what the kicker is; stress, lack of sleep, being inside to much ...whatever it is I want it out! I really hate this feeling of outright hating myself for what seems to be no reason. I don't know what threw me off today, but something sure did. And I want today to be the last day that this happens to me. People generally see me as a happy person, content with life and carefree. But what people don't see is my pain. It comes and goes. Sometimes I just can't stand myself. I can't stand the idea of who I am and where I want to go. Maybe it's what everyone says to me about how I act and what I want to do. The way people cast their judgement down on me. I don't know, but every now and then something hits me like a ton of bricks and I go down. And I mean down, real low. I start to reap up all the different things I've done wrong, the things I'm not proud of. Along with that comes up all the things that have hurt me over the years. I've got quite a list there, believe me! And like fiery darts they stab into me and tear me apart. My dream is that one day I won't see those darts coming toward me. Instead I can live the happy-go-lucky life that every sees in me. One day I'll reach my dreams and won't be stuck in this limbo of good days and bad days. That is where I want to be. 

One Day at a Time

This morning I taught myself a valuable lesson. One I'm sure I've learned before, set on a shelf in my mind and let slowly disappear until I have completely forgotten it. The lesson I retaught myself is to take life one day at a time.
I have a tendency to try to take on fifty things at once, and then when things aren't falling into place perfectly I wonder why my life is such a mess. The obvious answer? Probably because you are not allowing yourself to focus on any one thing. By now you're probably wondering what it is that had my mind circling. Schedules. I love to feel like I know what is going on and when. I still love the spontaneity of the moment, but I want to know that spontaneity is possible, requiring me to know when my free time is. So when BYU put up the schedules for fall semester classes, I jumped on it to figure out my schedule. However, I've been trying to decide what I really want to do with my life, where I want to go and what I want to study. You can only imagine what that did to my head as I pretended to know what I wanted to take in terms of classes.
But instead of taking a moment to thing through one thing at a time, I jumped on all of my thoughts and sent my mind on a wild goose chase. My mind on a wild goose chase is potentially the worst thing that can happen. I completely shut down and begin to hate everything. I couldn't think straight, and it looked like my schedule would just be a big mess, making me even angrier. My job has specific hours, and my schedule would be running over all of them. So, I left it alone and told myself to not even think about it until later. I still sat in my room completely shut down from this experience. (Lame, I know).
Last night I talked to my mom about my lack of plan and she gave me some advice as to what she thought would be best. I then talked to a friend about what religion class we were going to take, and after that I felt like I had a plan. I knew at least one thing, and I could plan the rest of my schedule from that one point. So, I left it until morning and then got to work.
This morning was marvelous in comparison to last night's train wreck. I looked at my schedule and chose when I wanted time open and when I willing to have classes. Literally it all fell into place. And that was when I realized that all I needed to do was step back a little, and let my mind go just one step at a time. I know I've learned this a million times before, but it always surprises me how quickly I forget what I've learned. So with it fresh in my mind, I'll try to remember this lesson. One moment at a time, one step at a time, one day at a time.

Chasing My Dreams

So, I really don't like to complain, but I'm really good at it. Maybe a little too good at it. So, in case you're wondering, this post is me complaining. I think it's a good rant though, and I think everyone should learn from the things that I've written.

So, this story goes back a long way actually. Back to my younger years, when nobody really knew what they wanted to do yet everyone had a dream. At that time nobody said engineering or teaching, people wanted to be acrobats, clowns, and comedians. Well, in those days I too had a simple dream. Art. I loved it, and I wanted it so bad. My older sister also did a lot with art, so I imagined myself being good like her and being in all the great art classes, respected by everyone else. I held onto my art dream for a while, but when "career finding" in middle school, being anything in regards to art is not an option. Be a doctor! Be a teacher! Just don't throw your life away into art.

Unfortunately this impacted me. So through high school I walked the academic road. I was going for scholarships and finding what I was good at. Well, I found what I was good at: not studying, not wanting to learn any of these academic things, and wanting to go back to my simple dream. I listened as friends began to say what they wanted in their lives, and so I had to settle on something too. It was rough for me, I didn't want any of the things they wanted, or even what others said I would be good at. But after having a great history teacher, I decided I would try that. And so I went to college as a history major. In case you're wondering, that generally is considered just the same as saying you're undecided.

But there was one thing I did in high school to regain my desires. Senior year I took a photography class, an upper level art class, and reignited my love of art. So, I went to college as a history major, but enrolled in a drawing class. My confined love for art was sent flying! I couldn't bring it back anymore so I changed majors. I was going to be an art major. I talked with my drawing professor about career ideas. With a Masters in art I can teach anywhere I want, literally. If I add some psychology I can be an art therapist. I could go the route of graphic design. In the end what came out of this was that being an art major is not the equivalent of throwing your life into a garbage can.

So now is where the rant enters. We'll begin on the positive side of it. I have great parents, and they said "James, if you want to be an art major, be the best art major there is" (or something along those lines). What I didn't know at the time is that I had relatives telling my parents that I was throwing my life away. I had members of my church ward telling them and me that I need to find something else. Since I basically aced the ACT math and science sections, a lot of the suggestions where in the math/science fields. That is beyond not where I wanted to go! I started to look into art therapy. It's a mix of two great things: art and psychology. I was content, and that is what mattered to me.

On my mission there wasn't too much talk of college and majors, so I was relieved for a time from this anchor people tried to drown me with. But then upon my return and my entrance to BYU it all came back, and with a vengeance. The first question people have for me is "What are you going to do with that?" Better yet is when people tell me that I need to think about how I'm going to support a family with this degree. And here's a real kicker, I displayed some of my art for a ward activity once and talked about my art and my love of art. Afterward, while most of the college kids were admiring my work and saying how good it was I had a ward leader come up and tell me "This is all great, but you should find something that can support a family." Wow. Thanks for the encouragement. But really, that is a typical response when you announce that you are an art major. I'm tempted to tell people that my plan is to just be a hobo. Sounds totally fun, right?

So, now for what really blew my top yesterday. I went with the BYU Scandinavian Club cross country skiing yesterday evening. I got a ride up to Aspen Grove with a friend of mine and two of his friends. Of course his friends asked some info about me and when I mentioned being an art major they sounded really excited, saying that it was cool and continued asking questions. Then came their kicker. "So, I don't want to sound rude or anything, but what do your parents think of that?" ...ummm... How does one even respond to that? I think I handled it pretty well but really? Oh, my parents totally disowned me because I have a dream that I'm following, how bout you? Chemistry major? I bet your parents hate you too. Really? Who asks that kind of question?! The audacity in asking me about what my parents thought of my major honestly shocked me. That is one blow I have not received yet. So, now I'm here ranting to all of you about the things that knock me off my rocker.

So, yes, I am a Studio Arts major. No, I don't plan on changing my major. Yes, I have thought about my future and what I need to do in order to support a family. No, my parents don't hate my decision and everything about what I'm doing. Yes, I do love what I'm doing and plan on catching the dream I had as a young child. Some people throw dreams by the wayside, but I just can't let go. So, the next time you see me or any other art major, instead of throwing out demeaning comments about how dumb we are or how we have no future, maybe you should congratulate us on chasing our dreams. After all, I don't trash talk your major and question your future. Let's not kill off all the dreamers left in the world.