As an underclassman, I always heard senior artists say that art is a journey extraordinarily individual and personal to each artist. And sure, I believed them. My drawings had a different style than other artists, and I was okay with that. But I didn’t really and truly understand the deeper meaning behind their words for most of my high school career. I took them at the surface level, not allowing them to mean more as they could have.
A lot has changed since then. Now, near the end of my high school career, my perception of my own artistic journey has changed. I approach it with a lot more grace, understanding that the detours and alleyways I walked through were necessary to get to where I am now. Before, I sometimes wished that my story was a little more like other artists', believing they were somehow better, but I now know that my experiences are what make my journey my own. The story behind my current portfolio is a little wonky and somewhat less traditional, but it is precisely the one that I needed.
A lot has changed since then. Now, near the end of my high school career, my perception of my own artistic journey has changed. I approach it with a lot more grace, understanding that the detours and alleyways I walked through were necessary to get to where I am now. Before, I sometimes wished that my story was a little more like other artists', believing they were somehow better, but I now know that my experiences are what make my journey my own. The story behind my current portfolio is a little wonky and somewhat less traditional, but it is precisely the one that I needed.
the beginning
Art is not something that I’ve been doing my entire life. I did enjoy drawing when I was younger, but it was something that I only did every so often out of boredom. I can’t honestly say that I really, really loved it then; I wanted to draw pretty pictures but not enough to do any actual practice.
I started to form a more serious interest in art as a middle schooler. I admired all the amazing work that filled my Instagram and YouTube feeds, and I was particularly interested in all the amazing fan art created for various books and TV shows that I loved. I wanted to someday draw the way my favorite artists did, but I had no idea where to start. I aimlessly drew doodles every now and then but with no direction and no way of taking actual art classes.
Gabriel Picolo’s Instagram account changed my perspective. It’s gone now, but he once had a side account dedicated to the challenge of drawing everyday for a year. Scrolling through his phenomenal work that only improved over time, it finally struck me: I could teach myself. It was so obvious, but seeing the tangible evidence for it sparked the determination I needed to actually try. My epiphany coincided with the upcoming New Year, so I made it my 2017 resolution to draw every day for a year. |
January 2017
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As you can see, the beginning was, well, a beginning. Badly lit photos of very basic drawings were only to be expected. For two months or so, I blandly followed a prompt list that gave me a word every day.
Eventually, as I drew more and more, I began to develop my own interests and ideas. I started to explore watercolor, graphite, charcoal, and more, experimenting to find what I liked best. I vividly remember spending all of my savings on art supplies that year; I was obsessed with trying all the different sketchbooks and mediums. I also participated in Inktober. Inktober is a daily challenge that runs through October with the purpose of helping artists improve and refine their skills. Since I was already drawing every day, I figured why not. I didn’t strictly use ink alone, but I always ensured that some type of ink was included in each drawing, just to stay true to the challenge. |
I consider 2017 the year I officially began my artistic journey. It was the first time I ever seriously put in to practice and it taught me an incredible amount about what it really takes to be an artist. There were, of course, ups and downs, with plenty of days when the last thing I felt like doing was drawing. But through all of that, 2017 was the year I learned to love creating.
exploring voice, rhythm, style
Following the year long challenge, I was a little burnt out and less adamant about constant practice. From 2018 to 2019, I explored my interests a little more deeply, now with a basic understanding of general art concepts.
It was during this period of time that I first took art classes, received a graphics tablet, and created more fully developed pieces. My art classes were, of course, important, but my personal exploration outside of class was much more integral to the development of my artistic voice. Classes helped hone my technical skills, while my personal projects helped me find my own process and style. |
April 2018
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The biggest project I took on was my 2019 series of sibling portraits featuring my three brothers. Each portrait was a gift on their respective birthdays. Growing up with brothers, a lot of my childhood was filled with Pokémon - the show, the cards, the game, everything. I thought it’d be cool to draw my brothers in the world of Pokémon, doing the ordinary things they love with an unordinary companion. It was a nostalgic and fun project that I really enjoyed. I did all of them in watercolor because that was my primary medium of choice during 2019; I loved how watercolor could achieve a luminosity that is impossible with thicker, more opaque paints.
sibling portrait series 2019
On a more standard basis, I was happiest creating fan art. Frankly, this hasn’t changed at all, four years later. Something about taking what I really love and recreating it in a new way fascinates and excites me. There is something incredible about the way fans can entirely transform a fandom with their own creativity and ideas, whether they be artists or writers. It’s almost like they create a separate branch of their own from the original content, idea, or person. There are times when I enjoy fanart more than the subject of the art itself. I don’t belong to any singular fandom, as my interests are constantly migrating from one community to another, but creating fan art remains to be one of my favorite things to do.
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October 2018
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On the other hand, there were tons of projects that I didn’t enjoy, whether they were for art classes, birthday gifts, or even my own projects that I had anticipated to be fun.
What you see here on the left is a gallery of suffering. Yes, suffering. You might notice that they all have a common theme of realism. Despite the variation in the media that I used, I had a very hard time getting through each and every one of these pieces. I can’t honestly say that I’ve ever enjoyed drawing or painting a realistic portrait. That’s not to say that I regret doing any of these - I still learned from each of them, the most obvious lesson being that realism was not my thing. It might sound a little silly and overly obvious, but it was actually a very important lesson because it allowed me to move on to other things that do fit my artistic style, rhythm, and pace. |
For one thing, I found far more enjoyment in stylized projects, like the one shown on the right.
I was actually so excited about this project that I went through very extensive pre-planning for it, hoping that it would result in the most amazing final art piece. From the thumbnail, sketch, linework, and digital color composition all the way to the final piece, I was intent on making my idea come to life. It was the first time I put so much thought into a piece and I still remember the excitement and adrenaline that fueled me through the long hours spent sitting at my desk. In the end, my hard work did not produce the perfect, final art piece that I had envisioned, but it taught me the arguably more valuable lesson of how to put the work into my art. For this reason, I am particularly fond of this art piece despite the fact that its end product was not what I had anticipated. |
April 2019
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walking forward
And, lo and behold, the final season: 2020.
2020 was when I began to shift away from watercolor and into digital art. I received an iPad for my birthday in January, allowing me to use Procreate, which I quickly fell in love with. I learned to integrate digital media as a part of my process for traditional pieces, and so became familiar with (and very fond of) my tablet.
So when I decided to do another sibling portrait series, they were all digital. Most unfortunately, they weren’t Pokémon themed this time around. Instead, I created each one based on what was important to each individual brother. All three of them ended up being very different in style, which in some ways is reflective of their diverse personalities.
2020 was when I began to shift away from watercolor and into digital art. I received an iPad for my birthday in January, allowing me to use Procreate, which I quickly fell in love with. I learned to integrate digital media as a part of my process for traditional pieces, and so became familiar with (and very fond of) my tablet.
So when I decided to do another sibling portrait series, they were all digital. Most unfortunately, they weren’t Pokémon themed this time around. Instead, I created each one based on what was important to each individual brother. All three of them ended up being very different in style, which in some ways is reflective of their diverse personalities.
sibling portrait series 2020
Not all of my projects have been digital, however. A lot of my work in AP Studio Art is done with traditional media. I know I said earlier that art classes mainly helped improve my technical skills, but Studio Art is different in that it is far more intense and personalized. Unlike my previous art classes, I am able (and encouraged, in fact) to explore my own ideas and develop my personal artistic voice. As each project generally has a minimum of twenty hours of work, it is teaching me a lot about how to push myself and my art to the next level.
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April 2020
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Technically, 2020 is also the year of quarantine and college applications (which sounds awful from the outside perspective), but both of these things actually positively contributed to my artistic journey. Quarantine, for obvious reasons, gave me more reason to create, and college applications put me in a position where I had to seriously consider my identity as an artist. It sparked a lot of reflection about my art journey so far and what it means moving forward.
My UCLA DMA application in particular caused me to think a lot more deeply about my artistic identity. I had the pleasure of meeting a DMA alumni, who described the diversity of specialties at the UCLA design program. She explained to me how some classmates could not draw or paint for their lives, but were phenomenal at video editing or designing web pages. Artists in the program aren't good at everything - they find their niche by trying all the different classes. They find what works for them and what doesn't, and they pursue what does. Before this conversation, I had the vague notion that I'd rather major in graphic design than fine arts, but I walked out of it very certain that I want to pursue design. And though I am more certain about my major, it is entirely possible that I haven't found my specific specialty yet. I might be into graphic design now, but the places my journey may lead me to are limitless. |
For a long time, I thought that me becoming a good artist was being able to draw and paint well. I knew and understood that other people had different types of artistry, but I was long stuck in the mindset that my personal artistry was drawing and painting, believing that it was the singular art that I would master.
Lit mag introduced me to design and convinced me to major in design and not fine arts, but it wasn't until my DMA application that I realized my artistry didn't have to be just one thing. Realizing that my art could be video editing for all I know, or even VR, was mind blowing because I for once truly understood how individual and personal each and every artist's journey is. I now know that it's okay that I started with pencils and paintbrushes, and that today, I stand with my computer and my tablet instead. I don't believe that I started in the wrong place; eventually, all routes lead me exactly where I need to be. And I believe the same moving forward, as I approach college.
Lit mag introduced me to design and convinced me to major in design and not fine arts, but it wasn't until my DMA application that I realized my artistry didn't have to be just one thing. Realizing that my art could be video editing for all I know, or even VR, was mind blowing because I for once truly understood how individual and personal each and every artist's journey is. I now know that it's okay that I started with pencils and paintbrushes, and that today, I stand with my computer and my tablet instead. I don't believe that I started in the wrong place; eventually, all routes lead me exactly where I need to be. And I believe the same moving forward, as I approach college.
Part of the DMA application prompted me to create an art piece based on the word 'halt'. Emily (the aforementioned DMA alumni) encouraged me to really think outside of the box for this project and to make it stand out. So I approached it quite differently than I did my other portfolio pieces. I created a digital collage compiled of royalty free photos and my own photos/drawings, and then took it into Adobe Animate and added an element of animation to it. This type of art is very different from what I've been doing the past couple of years, but I was incredibly excited about this project in the process of creating. Using Animate for the first time was, of course, confusing, but exhilarating all the same. And I look forward to learning more about it and all the other Adobe apps as I explore the world of design and media further.
I still very much love drawing and painting - I still do a lot of it and strive to become better at it. But it is no longer the sole definition of my art. And I've learned to walk forward with an open mind, knowing that my voice in art can change not just in style, but in medium entirely. I know now that it's all a part of the process. It could be more linear, I suppose, but where's the fun in that? |
January 2020
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