Читать книгу Creative Threads - Jon Barnes - Страница 8

I’m going to college!

Remember in the introduction where I mentioned fuzzy toilet seats? I’ll tell that story to you here in this chapter, just wait for it. But first, the wonderful world of college. Now you may have gone through (or be going through), a much bigger set of decisions and stress about choosing a school, paying for school, room and board, etc. Depending on how early your parents started saving for college, your budget, what’s in your home state, etc., you may have a much different pathway to your particular school. Or you may be hitting pause on the college thing or skipping it altogether. That’s ok.

There are few experiences you’ll ever have that are as exciting and nerve-wracking as college. You’ll move in all your junk to your dorm room, your parents will cry and take awkward pictures of you in front of the school sign, they’ll drive away, you’ll take a breath and then say to yourself...

WHAT. AM. I. DOING?

Here’s the bottom line about college. It’s amazing. Overnight you are suddenly a new version of you; a new, singular, responsible, independent, double-the-awesome version of you. Instantly. Now for some, this is empowering. You are going to do great with your newfound freedom and really come into your own, step into a new version of your life with poise. For others, this can be a hard time. Without anything connecting you back to the home and life you’ve known your entire life, you kind of freak out.

And that’s to be expected. But here’s the thing about college. You have to push through the freak outs to get to the good stuff. And you’ll do it quickly, don’t worry. Here are just a few memories and experiences that I had during my first few months at art school, a good 800 miles away from my parents and every other human being on the earth that already knew me.

I remember going to art school thinking I was “the best” at drawing cars. Because out of everyone in my high school, I was the best. But ten minutes into my first class I met about 20 other students exactly my age who were about 1000 times better than me. Reality check. I was not the best car artist on the planet. In fact, I felt like my work was junk. That was a tough day.

At my art school we had apartments instead of dorm rooms. I remember a week or two into the school year when my 2 other roommates and I got back from a grocery run. We had just finished putting all the food away and I slowly closed the refrigerator, admiring the brightly glowing stacks of soda cans that filled at least 3 of the 5 shelves. I felt ridiculously powerful being in total control of my food. And full of sugar.

I remember watching junior and senior students draw. My mind exploded. I learned so much by just watching them. I picked up things in those first few weeks that I had never even thought of, techniques and materials that were new and amazing. When I used these tools and techniques myself I felt... like a rock star.

Our apartment was on the 12th floor. You could see for miles in every direction. It was in Detroit and every now and then we’d see smoke off in the distance. We’d grab our video camera and go chase it. Film whatever it was. Eat at White Castle. Drink more soda. It was bizarre and magical. It was classic art school.

I had always been a late night person. I didn’t do mornings so much but could stay up late easily and plow into my creative work past 11, 12, 1, 2 or 3am without any trouble. This powerful creative rhythm was my time and apparently at art school, everyone embraced this rhythm. I finally felt like I was among my people. Time had no meaning, the floors in our apartment were constantly active and full of creative activity.

I remember one day I was about to take the stairs to go to class. A piece of paper was stuck to the door with a handwritten note in black marker. “Use at your own risk.” Later I found out it was because someone had tried to take their own life and there was blood on the walls. They were fine but left the school after that. That was a moment that made me really think about the kinds of struggles that people could have so close to me.

I remember stopping on the highway to pick up car bumpers that had been torn off cars during collisions. We mounted these bumpers in our apartment. It was “art.”

I remember microwaving all my meals and eating a ton of hot dogs. I remember on a whim buying some sort of blackened tuna patty thing in a box. And then microwaving it. That was the last time I bought a fish-related food item on purpose.

One time I bought a cheap new toilet at the hardware store. I decorated it with paint, fuzzy fabric, lights, and some glued-on accessories. We put it on a table in our room and it became quite the topic of conversation. I wish I could say that it lives on to this day but sadly my parents disposed of it after it sat in their basement for a decade. They said it was neither art nor a toilet. Oh well.

Somehow I survived. But here’s the real point of the story. Even though car design had been my “one ultimate thing,” after I got to the school and got a few months in I started to feel my world expand in a new way. I met so many people and had so many great experiences that something changed inside me. Or maybe not change, but evolve. I realized in the first semester something profound, something incredible.

God made me to be creative.

And I can be creative anywhere.

That’s right, after going all the way, enrolling in quite possibly the best car design school in the country and sitting under the best teaching in industrial design that one could ever hope to learn from, I came to the realization that car design was not my thing.

Car design was not my thing? But it’s always been my thing!

Everyone said it was my thing. I love drawing cars! I AM CAR DESIGN!

At first I was stunned. How could this be? Why was I feeling a disconnection to car design when I should be feeling a deeper and deeper connection? I’m here at art school fulfilling my destiny and pursuing the one thing that is so obviously my passion and calling. So why do I feel like I don’t want to actually do this?

Sidenote: Here’s the thing about being a car designer. It’s elite. It’s hard. There are more NBA players than car designers. You have to be both motivated and talented. You have to have that eye and that imagination but also technical execution and the chops to translate a vision into a sketch that people can understand. It’s a very specific and demanding field. Now those things alone don’t bother me; those aren’t reasons not to pursue something. But the challenge ahead of me caused me to pause. “Is this what I want?” I didn’t have a real clear answer to that question but after my first semester I knew that something inside me had changed. It was good. But also unnerving.

I recall walking into the school offices to inform the various staff that I would not be returning the next year. They were shocked to be honest (I don’t think for this major that it happens very often). “You’re not coming back? Why?” they asked me. I had trouble coming up with an answer. I felt like I should be returning, to finish what I started, to go all the way, to achieve my dream of becoming a car designer.

Except it wasn’t my dream anymore.

I had a new sense of what “my thing” was. It was being creative. I could do anything, be creative anywhere... which sounds great, except for when it comes to telling your parents your plan. Because I had none.

Summary: You may be the best in your school for something but you’re probably not the best in the world. Or your state. Accept that.

Brain dump: If someone asked you what you’re all about, what would you say? Do you have a sense of calling in your life? That there’s a specific purpose or direction that it’s your job to uncover?