My Interest Statement for MCAD

All throughout my childhood, I had a long awkward film camera that survived everything. I learned how to work it, and started taking my own snapshots at a young age. I’ve always thought a photograph was the perfect way to ensure I’d always have a memory, and that it made it easy to share that memory with another person. When my family took trips to the mountains of Colorado, I loved the nature that surrounded me. I took simple photos of the looming peaks, not knowing they would be the first of many.

My freshman year of high school I reluctantly signed up for photography as an elective because my sister had taken it and hated it. I was quite frankly scared that it would be even half as awful as she claimed it to be. As the teacher introduced himself, I began to think the class wouldn’t go well. His name was Mr. Eby, and he was a middle school football coach who was only there for the term, because the other teachers were unavailable. This seemed like a bad sign.

Mr. Eby ended up being a very easy going teacher, and yet my eyes were opened to this new art form. I had taken an introduction to 2D art class previously that school year and although I enjoyed it, this was a whole new adventure. The rule of thirds seemed to change my world. The simple concept that you rarely, if ever placed your subject exactly in the center of a photo changed the way I look at pictures. It’s interesting now to think how exciting it was to learn those basic rules.

I remember my first time rolling film, it was so stressful. It took patience to withstand the whole developing process, at the end of which one would discover whether or not they had correctly rolled their film. I even recall first entering the darkroom. Everyone groaned at the smell of the chemicals that hung in the air. By the end of the term I was used to the smell, and began to miss it after the term was over. I still love the smell of the chemicals on my hands after a printing session in the darkroom.

From that course on, photography has been a passion of mine. The more I embraced it, the more real it became; this is what I wanted to do. My brother knew of my interest in photography, and helped me get a job through a friend of his. It was a small, but well known photography studio here in Bloomington that I’ve been with since 2005.

I heard about MCAD from a fellow photo student at my community college. He planned to take design there in fall of 2007. I had only known about it, but when it came time to look at schools, I decided to research it on a whim. After receiving more information on the school, I was hooked. I became more and more interested in what the school had to offer with every mailing. I thought Minneapolis would be a great place to study the art of photography. Not only do I love the city, I liked that I wouldn’t have to be far from home, yet I could still have an adventure in a big city! Although it’s a small school, I know I’ll have smaller classes equaling more one on one time with instructors. Overall, the info given me about MCAD drew me in and convinced me to seriously consider the school.

I would hope to be out exploring the world in five years. I want to see what there is out there and show the world my perspective on what I see. Ideally, I would be working as a photojournalist; showing what’s happening in the world without words or deception. I would also like to be a freelance photographer, getting a taste of everything.

In ten years, I would like to be in one place, possibly working for a newspaper or magazine in either an urban or suburban city. My dream would be to sell my artwork in a gallery as well. A part of me hopes to be settled down, using my degree for my own entertainment; not necessarily to make a living, but to truly pursue my passion,- for me.

The Frigid Cold

The frigid cold that penetrates my bones,
Drives me to speak quivering tones,
My teeth are wildly chattering,
I sniffle loudly which is not flattering,
I feel the cold has robbed me of all joy,
No happiness can my heart employ,
Not as I walk through this biting night,
Every step is like a trying fight,
My right foot throws the first punch,
As my back begins to hunch,
Then my left throws the next,
My cold body is entirely vexed,
I proceed further on still,
Wondering why I did this out of will,
My poor hands are suffering so much,
Everything is cold now to the touch,
I think that I might parish now,
Know that I loved you and how.

English Literature Class

Time slips by so slow,
I sit in this room with no window,
Nothing to look at to soften my eyes,
That indeed would then soften my heart,
The four same voices echoing from wall to wall,
It really means nothing to the hearts of us all,
Toes are tapping,
Fingers are rapping,

Colors that usually dance before my eyes,
Are a clever and cunning disguise,
For a place that could not be more dull,
Even if conversation were to lull,
The occasional rattle of a restless chair,
A sigh of nothing floats on cold air,
I don't know that I can endure,
This in the future if it is to occur.

"Love" is a complicated thing; "can't you love me through it?"

Have you ever known someone that you wish would just forgive the stupid things you do? I'm not talking about stupidly cheating on your faithful boyfriend, or repeatedly lying to someone. Just those random occurrences that have obvious consequences and lessons to be learned that you can't not learn unless you're mentally challenged. It's like, come on, don't you think i figured out never to do that again? I just want you to love me through it. I think that's part of what love really is, loving through it; through all the stupid choices/mistakes.

What sparked this thought was one of those moments, where it's stressful enough to go through it, now i just need support. It wasn't a huge deal or anything, but the moment it happened the repercussions had to be made known to me again, which was unnecessary. I don't know about anyone else, but i don't feel the love coming from an "i told you so" of sorts.

I think real love, whether the romantic or platonic, is something a lot of people think they know, but they haven't even scratched the surface. Real love takes time, effort, acquaintance...real love takes a lot of things people are rarely willing to give. I think real love is a sacrifice, it's choosing patience over anger. Real love takes practice (once again with the effort). I think real love takes a certain amount of selflessness; though not complete because we are only human, i don't know that complete selflessness is possible.

I just hear that word tossed around a lot, "love". I think it can also be an extreme level of connection with someone, experiences linking the two of you. To truly love someone, you need to see past the faults and love the person beside them. "Love is not easily angered." Sometimes you not only have to love someone beside their faults, but love them beside yourself. "[Love] is not proud".

It's just so interesting to me as i've grown up in the past years, (and by this i mean matured, though there is much more learning to come) how relevant 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 are to life. They used to be a jumble of words to me, but over the past few years and months especially, these words have been coming to life. They've been clarifying things to me, and challenging me to love as God writes. It just sucks when you try to love as Corinthians states, but other choose not to.

A Letter To A Person

Dear,
i can't believe you.
i can't believe you'd do this.
i can't believe you lied to me.
i really can't believe you're going to do this.
I wish i could tell you how dumb you are.
I wish i could tell you how much you've cut me deep.
i wish i could tell you it's all wrong and fix it for you.
I can't believe you would waste such talent.
Don't you know how smart you are?
Don't you know what you could be?
Don't you know what this could do to you?
Do you care?Are you willing to throw it all away?
Did you ever care?I once thought you did, but now i wonder if it was ALL a lie.
I didn't think you had it in you.You tugged on my heartstrings with your sad story.
I thought you were something to pity, and yet something great.
Or that you would someday be.
Who will push you?
If no one will, will you become anything after all?
Is God in your heart?
Where does he fit into all of this your "plan"?
Did you ever tell me the truth?
Or are you one of those types that lies to them self and so lies to everyone else?
Do think this is right?
Do you really not see where you went wrong?
Do you even care that you hurt me?
Did you ever care about me?
Or was i just a ready and willing ear?
Did you or did you not take advantage of me?
I near hate, when i once loved you so dearly.
Ironic, isn't it?

Another untitled...lately i haven't been good with those

There seems to be no end in sight,
I don't have it in me for another fight,
The last one near killed me,
And none of it thrilled me,
I'd lay my head down to sleep at night,
And it would taunt me preventing my rest,
I figure this time around,
Minimal contact is best,
My head is already beginning to spin,
But it all has barely had time to begin,
Books stack up higher each time,
If for each written word i had a dime,
Oh for those mornings i awoke with my head pounding,
With shouting words of worry resounding,
If i could just but float on by,
Maybe others, but not i,
No, i must put in my every last ounce,
Just to better of my failure announce,
Sometimes i wonder why i chose this path,
I'd never have faced such a wrath.

[I don't even know what to call it besides "a poem"]

God, i hate this wretched feeling,
When i'm staring at the ceiling,
I've cried so many tears,
Over these past years,
And even when i'm angry they come,
Laced in sadness are some,
Sadness that somethings may never change,
That something i loved could become so strange,
Times you make me feel ill with envious rage,
It snatches me up and locks me in a cage,
I can't do that anymore,
Live a life licking each sore,
Wounds that seem to never heal,
Wondering what it is you really feel,
When you look at these pain filled eyes,
To you, should it be a surprise,
Wouldn't you know i would feel this way,
Or did i seem normal through every day,
Walking this life feeling so alone at times,
Nothing seemed just sentence for these crimes,
So i've shoved it all down into the deepths of me,
Making me a darker person to some degree,
I'd rather never speak of them again,
Never look back to remember when,
But the good times, those i will never forget,
So no my dear, you shouldn't fret,
It is all to be remedied somehow,
Even if later, but not now.