Object Story 12/21/11
Pacing around my house, searching everywhere possible. I can never seem to find them. I rip apart my entire bedroom, looking everywhere possible. ‘Where on earth can they be,’ I am constantly thinking to myself. Running up the stairs, back down. My brother thinks I am being an idiot. He doesn’t understand what I’m doing, probably because I never explained to him. I do not like to explain and he does not like to hear explanations. Finally, when my entire house is destroyed, I see them. Right where I left them. I pick them up by the ring and let it jingle in my hand because the sound is comforting. I like knowing where things are, even though I never know where anything is. Now I am able to go someplace, anyplace. I put my keys in the ignition, the car roars and I am on my way. I start driving, I have a full gas of tank and nowhere to go. I drive on one road for twenty minutes and see where I end up. When I stop, I see a light. I get out of the car and drag my feet closer, I approach the field and the light. I look up, then I get an electric shock, my eyes shut. I wake up, I don’t know how long later, but there is nothing. An endless parallel world of absolutely nothing. Grey for eternity. I shouldn’t have found my keys.
History/Mystory 12/16/11
In the last project we did, we took history from a book and erased it and wrote our own story over it. The piece from history was about art in the ancient times and how they created pieces on tombs and how they celebrated art when they were turning people into mummies. My story was about my first time on an airplane. They were not relevant stories, and that is okay. They don’t have to be. Then we were told to put our copy of a famous piece on top of it, and I used a painting of flowers by a French guy. Then we could do whatever we wanted to it. I painted it with water colors, I scratched it, I used ink. I made it my own. I used what I like to do. History does not effect my story, because mine is mine. Sure mine may never be learned about in text books five hundred years from now, but thats okay. I know my story, and some people know some of my stories. We all have stories, they are never ending. Every single person on this earth has something to share, so what does that make history? We learn history from a few amount of people. We only hear about certain things through certain perspectives. That’s what makes some stories so great, they have not been studied or analyzed. They have just been lived. My story is way too long to write. I have too much detail that I remember. I think the best part about most of my stories is that I am the only person who knows how they go and how to tell them, but that doesn’t mean I will. The best part about my stories is that I share them with myself. They are the one thing I have total control over, and I would never give that up for fame or anything. Perhaps one day, I will share my stories and maybe it will relate to people or give them hope in some way, but for now, my stories are mine only, and that’s how I like it. It makes me special.
What is the relationship between history, ideology and your life? What determines whose stories get to be considered integral to a culture? How do we recognize fact from fiction? How might stories evolve over time?
The relationship between all of them is who makes their story heard. Everybody has a story. I have a story, but that doesn’t mean I am going to be remembered for it. Everyone being unique and having their own story makes the world such a special place. I can’t tell my whole story in a one page paper. I don’t think that anybody can. Back in history, the people who had their stores heard and repeated are the ones who had a formal way of writing them down, technologically. Other stories are passed down by talking, singing, art. Not just written in a boring textbook for students to complain about for future generations. We can not know fact from fiction unless we were there. In my opinion however, everything is a fact if you truly believe it. Nobody can tell you that you are wrong for believing what it is you believe in. I believe in a lot of crazy stories I’ve heard. Lots of stories I’ve made up inside my head, and I wouldn’t consider myself crazy, but teachable. I am open minded to all stories whether true or not. My ideology is that anything is possible, because it really is. Fact and fiction is really a matter of opinion. Stories evolve over time because people change them, things change. People try to relate to the stories, so they change them. Or maybe they want to teach a more valuable lesson. Maybe they think they can tell the story better. There are lots of reasons people would change stories, but stories are meant to be adapted. Meant to change the lives of people. Thats why we tell them. Thats why we listen to them. Thats why they are important and always will be.
Who We Are
We are Wissahickon High school honors art class. What we are as a group cannot be defined as a single thing, because we are all important aspects of making a combined effort of a group. We all contribute something different, and all have our own unique styles and personality. We make a whole, together. When everything is seen, we indivisually create an idenity, but overall when it is all put together, we can be defined as a collaboration. We cannot be defined as one word, but multiple words, for all that we built, and all we have become. Our class is made up of who we are as people, and we all stand out in our own ways, but together we are better because we build off of each other, are modivated by each other, and ultimately help each other. Being a group makes us special, but us being special is what makes the group.
Still Life Story One:
Planctons twin brother Melvo stood up on his tape box to look over what he will soon discover in this new land he has found. Sure, his may be evil, but he isn’t. He was sick of everyone in his old world judging him based on what his brother did. He noticed a colorful duck, a wooden sick person, and a sad man who was only a head.
The sun was rising, and more exciting things to see began to rise up. Melvo was overwhelmed with joy. A fresh start, a new beginning. As he hopped off the tape box and began to walk, discover, and live; he felt happier than he has ever felt. He felt absolute freedom with nothing left to lose.
Still Life Story Two:
Bob had no face. He had nothing about him that made him memorable or different. He was a wooden outline shaped like a person. Even his name was not memorable…Bob. Bob lived behind Melvos box, and above the landmark where the skulls were. Southeast Stillville.
Bob always felt that he never fit in anywhere, but then Bob was told something by the wise face behind the picture frame. They told him “your life may be insignificent, but you still matter to someone somewhere. You fit here perfectly.” Bob went back to his spot, where he lives, where he fits. And he fit perfectly.
Haiku
1.
Electricity shines
Bright inside of the dark light
Lights up paper to write
2.
Three different gardens
All look very similar
But somehow different
3.
Easter eggs that dream
with lost keys and a broken
Whistle is some joy
4.
Elegent dream house
As the banquet dies down
Something needs to spark
5.
Birds nest including
Bright yellow andsubtle red
reminds us of life.
Bottletar: The Hidden Hero
As millions of people escaped from the burning city, and fire covered the streets and the buildings, everybody looked around. “Who was our savior?” was the question that everybody was thinking and asking. No hero could be found, all that was left was a single broken spoon. A true hero wouldn’t be looking for the fame or the credit, just the feeling of helping people. Not a single person died. “How could this happen? Where did this begin?” the curious people of Omaha, Nebraska were thinking as they rushed into an empty field. Searching and asking did no good, because the hero could not be found.
It began as an ordinary Tuesday evening, and thunderstorms came, which they do often. Nobody thought it would change their life forever. As lightning struck a tall, powerful building, the city began sparking in moments. Everything going up into flames. People saw it, screamed and ran. People were helpless. As the fire grows and becomes more dangerous, the Omaha people found themselves following a crowd, being pushed forward. Who was pushing them? How could everybody in the entire city be on the same page in such a hectic situation? The bottletar hero made sure that everybody was saved before he could save himself. That’s the definition of a true hero, somebody who puts others first, and does it for the greater of man-kind, not for its own publicity of self-esteem.
As the people were gathered in the field, they looked back at their city; that they once loved and once belonged to. They remembered before the fire, before the lightning struck, as if it was in the blink of an eye. Comparing the before and the after shocked them. Standing like a million soliders, lined up in a field surrounding their cities; they watch their city burn. Watching their homes and everything they once loved disintegrate. While some children cried, and some people were upset about their belongings; everybody was grateful that they were saved. The unknown hero, the hidden hero was still not identified; but he accomplished what he felt was the right thing to do; and that is what makes a hero.
———————————————————-
Diptych Reflection
I thought that this project was fun and interesting because it allows you to explore all of the possilbe words and ideas within a game you play. The assignment was fun and interesting to help you realize the language of games and activities or hobbies you use in your everyday life i enjoyed it alot.
Language is very important of communication and it is good to understand your own language and other peoples as well.
Language Of Games
I feel that there are many languages within languages depending on what you are doing. Games, are one. I play tennis a lot and there are alot of terms and words that people who dont play, or at least dont play competitvly would understand. There is a lot of lingo, to any game. It is how people communicate and how it sets yourself apart from people who don’t play that game or hobbie or whatever.
Language is important for communication, and it helps people bond with each other and become friends and have things in common that they can understand with each other that makes them different from other people. For my pieces, I did words written over and over and over overlapping each other so that you can’t read them. It shows how people just don’t understand, and how some people just might. But I understand it and I guess thats all that really counts.
Cards Reflection
Hero – For my cards I had 9 cards that all looked very similar and one card that was brighter and stands out, because I feel that a hero is somebody who stands out and stands apart from everyone else to do something superior, something that people can look up to.
Other – For my other cards I made cards that were all similar on one side, but the other sides were very different, which could mean that being grouped as something or being known as an other doesn’t mean at all that there isn’t anything special about you or whomever or whatever, but the different on the back shows how you stand out in your own way.
Hero Idenity
A hero is somebody who does something worth recognizing for. They have to stand out for something that they did that may have effected somebodys life in a good way. A hero is somebody to look up to, not some supernatural person, because then its not realistic to try to be like them and be a hero that way. Without people having their own personal hero, they may not want to work for something or achieve anything. A hero can be tied with goals, because if your hero achieved your goals then it gives you more inspirating to realize that you can achieve it too.
I would like to be a hero for somebody someday, because then it shows that I am special, and can stand out. I just want to do good things in life and try to be the best person I can, even if that means being my own hero. If I am happy and succsessful then I have achieved my goals, and I will be a hero, as long as I am satisfied with myself.
“Other” Idenity
A time when I felt like an other, was probably the time that I was disculded from my friends. The almost same friends I hang out with every weekend decided not to invite me one time to a movie. It was not just any movie though, it was a movie I really wanted to see and suggested that we all see it. It was a Haunting in Connecticut and they thought it was really good.
It hurt to not be included by my friends and to feel like I didnt belong. It felt like I was an “other” because of this. Being an “other” does not feel good because it makes you feel like you are less than a group, like you arent worth being in it. It makes you feel like an outsider, and makes you feel sad and alone.
Stereotype Idenity
Stereotypes are not good. What they do is they clump a group of people together based on one thing that they know about them. They take away indivisuality and make you feel like there is nothing special about you, and that you are the same as everyone else in your heritage or culture, or whatever the stereotypical thing may be about.
I am not really sure how people percieve me, but it does not really matter to me either. People can see me how they want to see me. All I care about is my goals and my ambitions and what people think of me as wont change a thing to me, because I know who I am. One stereotype that annoys me the most though, is I play tennis, and people think that its a country club sport and I have to wear white polos and be preppy, but that is not true at all these days.
Stereotypes is one thing that stops everybody from being friends, because people judge people before they get to know that person. If everyone was more open minded and accepted people for everything they are and I know stereotypes can not be ended, but they can be used a little less.
Family Idenity
I like my family, we all like each other which is good. If we are all in the same room together there will always be fighting. I am not that close with my dad because I do not see him as often, because my mom and I travel all the time for tennis tournaments. My brother Curt and I are pretty tight because we are less than 2 years apart. I feel family is important to have because no matter what you do, they will still love you anyway, even if they get mad.
I guess some familes need each other to survive, and some families are seperated all over the world, and its sad because they love each other. One thing that brings family together is a tradgety, and nobody wants it, but sometimes it an bring everybody closer. When my moms dad died her whole family became alot closer, even though they live really far away.
Families are important because they are always people that you can come back to. People who lose their families are sad even if they will not admit it, because they influence who you are.
Cultural Idenity
Culture is different for everybody. It is what you do in your daily life that defines you and your culture makes you who you are. Every thing can be considered part of culture. The music you listen to, the car you drive, the clothes you wear, the food you eat, other than just the basics like religion and where you are from. My culture is I play tennis everyday and I cannot imagine my life without it. I am from Punxsutawney, PA. My whole family loves Chinese food. I am half German, half Russian. I wear the clothes that I like. I listen to classic rock, I live in the suburbs, I go to public school, and all of these things about me and my dailey life are what makes me who i am which defines my culture.
Culture is what makes people unique because no people have the exact same culture. It is different for everybody and that is what makes it so special and so unique. Everyone has a culture, and everyone should love and accept their culture too.
