Harvard College Supplemental Essay (Fingers-Crossed)

         I  really believe that dinner should be one of those cathartic experiences in which you just completely inter the emotional stink of the day under ambiguously coalesced layers of peas and potatoes and steak. I really believe that. But like all things, dinner is too an assignment, perhaps sort of a subconscious duty of the body. Dinner reads very much like a responsibility, because in truth it is. It’s this complex and demented temptation of want conflicted with need, and a titillation of macaroni littered with the whispering mockery of the French-cut green beans. Dinner is an absolute quantification of personal will and endurance, and I choose to fight that daily battle by eating everything on my plate separately, because there is some pleasure inherent to knowing that once you absolve the green beans of all the dominating power their presence holds, you can eat macaroni in peace. It is all about order and progress. Sometimes, you just have to power through the broccoli to be reimbursed by the fried okra.

            Eating, while I enjoy it thoroughly, has always been handled like schoolwork; I prefer everything to be precise and orderly. Green beans are those essay questions in a packet about Gothic Art that I don’t really register upon simply flipping through the assignment.

 “Hey, honey I think we’ll have some brisket, with some…uh, macaroni and cheese and green beans, I guess.”

“Oh yeah, ok mom sounds great.”

 And then there’s the gradual recognition of what exactly that task entails, and it easily becomes the bane of some ephemeral and abstract episode in my life. There is so little a chance of really objectively completing those breathable and simple “fill in the blank” questions without the threat of a constant reminder lingering along with the existence of those wrist-breaking essay responses. So like with any assignment, or with any test in which I’m given the option to do so, I work the hardest questions first; I eat those green beans—all of them. Until I am absolutely sure that I have incrementally reduced my stress level even by a minute modicum of measure, I will not touch that creamy, cheesy “fill in the blank” macaroni. When I have successfully completed those essay questions, I’ll flip back to them every now and then, just to assure myself that visible and tangible progress has been made. There is nothing more relieving than indulging in the first bite of macaroni and first looking to the vacant half of the plate, that deserted porcelain throne where those green beans used to be, and knowing that in some small way, I’ve progressed with my life. One more day, one more serving of green beans, one last essay question about flying buttresses, one step closer to the freedom to luxuriate in the successes of hard work.

            This is not an issue of the foods marrying each other; I’m fine with inter-nutritional relationships.

“Well why don’t I just buy you a bunch of tiny plates, and you can eat each part of the meal on a separate tiny plate?”

“No, mom, because then the table would be cluttered with a bunch of empty, tiny plates. I need the reassurance of empty plates.”

I just think that the assignment of eating dinner runs like clockwork for me when I have the privilege to look back at the empty half of the plate and understand that progress has undeniably been made, and that there is nothing but good things to come. I eat the green beans, the green beans are good for me, and they are one of life’s unavoidable responsibilities. During my freshman year in high school my biology teacher speculated, “Are you one of those people that eats every part of your salad separately?” Yes, I am. I would have to assume that that kind of intimate information is easily unearthed by my learning style, if nothing else. The plate is a mission; it is a finite and self-sustaining unit. I have to devour those responsibilities, those needs and those insurmountable obstacles. I understand that dinner, that school, and that life contains complex relationships between trials, tribulations, successes and rewards. If I ate macaroni every day I would make myself sick, it’s only that progress and the absence of the glaring green beans that makes the rest of the meal taste so nice. Reward is the absolute consequence of taking advantage of the things that I love and tolerating the things that I don’t. And I will admire that simple success--until dinnertime tomorrow.

Drawing on the Artist Within-Betty Edwards

          In Drawing on the Artist Within Betty Edwards emphasizes the potency of the creative thinking process and the remarkable ability of creation to alter the brain in ways which better all facets of thought. This process is deemed integral to the exercise of problem solving, creative or otherwise, as it illuminates the power of interpretation and the significance of clarity both in art and in the perception of one’s surroundings. In order to deem such a system effective, Edwards suggests that one must first reach a state of placid subjectivity in which a mental divergence from the conventional promotes a unique and efficient method of information processing. It is this intrinsic and interpersonal intuition complimenting the creative process which Edwards recognizes as the primary premise from which to increase mental plasticity and awareness.

            In order to attain such perceptiveness, Edwards defends a process of conscious volition in which the mind of the artist is paralleled in respect to one’s ability to interpret visual information in a subjective and abstract manner. This unconventional frame of mind is valued as not superior, but as effectively alternative to an analytical and objective approach. Edwards suggests that, through this mental device and the ability of art to reinvent the mind, anyone with the proper mindset and the proper focus maintains the capacity to create art both within and without oneself. While Edwards’s observations are primarily speculative, she presents an interesting correlation between physical expansion and perceptive expansion through an activation of the right brain through the pursuit of creative endeavors. This subsequent projection of mental capacity promotes the emergence of previously cloistered potential, which fosters positive thinking through the process of seeing better and seeing more.

            Edwards’s creative process is initiated through a complete inhalation and subjective interpretation of her surroundings or subject through what she recognizes as a specific type of “seeing”. She believes that this activates the artistic powers of the right brain and expands her mental capacity to the extent in which the activity of drawing is translated into the simple reproduction of shapes and their complex relationships with one another. She cites an example of subjective representation as opposed to objective representation in which perspective falls ill to the dictation of size in the brain. I found it interesting her urgence to separate preconceptions, or what one already “knows”, from what one sees, thus promoting a more expansive and, ironically, objective way of thinking.

            In evaluating such literature it is important to separate psychological speculation from neurological inconsistencies. While Edwards may simply employ the separate functions of the labeled “right brain” and “left brain” as a basic representation of the complexities of human thought and reactions to visual stimuli, it should be dismissed a complete functional separation between the two. Scientific research has emphasized a quality of neuroplasticity in which a variety of functions once thought to rest permanently within respective hemispheres actually maintain the ability to relocate via the corpus callosum, an intermediate structure connecting the two halves of the brain. It is still pertinent Edwards’s approach to the creative process and the mental development which ensues as a result of subjective thinking, and it is credible her fluency in psychology in respect to the artistic process.

            The basic creative technique which I find the most interesting and applicable is Edwards’s suggestion to see in shapes, and in seeing such shapes to understand both the simple and complex relationships between them. I have found that, when drawing in such a simple mindset, the subsequent complexities of creating technical art (such as perspective) follow naturally as a compliment. While this method is relatively simple, it is truly difficult to silence the analytical and objective brain when drawing complex objects. I feel that such complications may be remedied through repeated practice and gradual increase from simple, geometric objects to more organic and intricate subjects. In recognizing the outlines and space occupied by specific objects, it is better illuminated the interactions between an object or subject and all of the surroundings that better interpret that object. Edwards teaches that matter and that space are only defined by the matter and space surrounding it, thus through evaluating an all-encompassing image one may better view objectively through subjectivity and relativity.

            As one of my favorite subjects is that of the human likeness and the human face, Edwards’s methods regarding portraiture are incredibly pertinent. The author suggests that portraiture is an ideal exercise for refining the artist’s ability to see and to fully interpret a subject in order to accurately represent a subtle “likeness” through a subjective model of intricacy. It is understood the separation again between what is seen and what is known. Edwards instructs that the predisposed visual symbols representative of specific features of the human face stored within the brain often override the visual truth, thus it is optimal to channel the abilities of the “right brain” during such an exercise. This mentioned correlation between the preconceptions of the “left brain” and the visual truth of the “right brain” is paralleled to the importance of proportion and perspective. While it may seem a simple exercise, I would like to better employ the use of a small measuring tool in order to establish a correct perspective. Typically when drawing I will visualize perspective, either because I cannot be bothered to exhaustively and compulsively measure ratios and relationships or because I misguidedly trust my own visual judgment. I feel that prior to drawing I should continue to engage in left-handed contour exercises which will further exacerbate the activities of the right brain. Thus I may better my visual capabilities in respect to the relationship of shapes, or proportion.

            Edwards’s methods are incredibly pertinent and credible through the visual progress of her students. While modern neuroscience may not completely agree with the stability of her mental speculation, she is wholly competent in the creative process and has instituted and reinforced ideas which will both improve my activities as an artist and in all facets of life.  
           

 

College Showcase

I attend Booker T. Washington High School for the Performing and Visual Arts in Dallas, TX and every November we do this thing where we all get our best work together in a neat, self-contained unit and show it to a menagerie of art colleges who come down to our school to see us and to see our work. It's a really interesting experience because we are allowed the opportunity to get individual feedback from people who can objectively critique our work. So it's really, really nice when a college recruiter is pleased with what I have to offer because it's a small indication that I've been doing something right for the past four years. I was really happy with the feedback I received from the School of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, MA; the recruiter was really enthralled with the amount of detail in my work and the effort that went into creating each piece. He explained that the school has an academic partnership with Tufts University that he would certaintly direct me towards because he thought my art was "fantastic" and he was impressed also that I was first in the class. He worked with me to try to understand how, and if at all, I want art to fit into the context of my college life and I was incredibly happy with his willingness to talk with me despite my lack of interest in pursuing a career in the art.
Texas Christian University, which may even be the possesive "Christian's" though I don't really care to go all the way down to Google and look it up as they didn't care to walk the hundred-mile trek to the gallery to see my pieces. They acted as if they had to cross the Rubicon or something, so all I got was some literature about how caring of a school they are. But the guy behind the table had a shirt with bigfoot on it so, that was at least mildly pleasurable if only for a brief moment.
The lady from El Centro College walked with me to the gallery and she immediately shut-down after I told her that I wanted to major in neurobiology, and I saw that they had little squishy stress balls on their table that were shaped like brains and she didn't even give me one. I contemplated going back up there and taking one but I would've had to wait in line again and I was in no mood. No one wants to go to your school.
The last college table I visited was the School of Sante Fe Arts? Or the Art School of Sante Fe? But the man behind the counter was in serious need of some rudimentary social skills. I asked him if he would be so kind as to walk down to the gallery with me and he said "No, just let me see your work". "Well, it's in the gallery. Our teachers told us to take you down there," I retorted. He scoffed and puffed some air out of the side of his mouth, "You didn't even bring your work? Well talk to me about it then, I went down in the gallery, I'll remember it." And as his request sounded more like a prompt to describe the aesthetics of my work in order to jog his memory, it clearly wasn't, because he stopped me mid-sentence, "What do you want to major in?". "Uh, neurobiology?", and he chuckled with that sarcastic I-am-so-above-you-right-now-even-though-you-are-clearly-displaying-a-higher-level-of-intellect-than-I-am chuckle. "Um, neuro-what? Most of our professors can't even say that, no we don't have that. Uh, I don't know how to break it to you, but, this is an art school."
So all in all, showcase was a waste of time save for the one man from Boston who actually treated me like a human being. It was a waste of my time, it was a waste of their time, and the only purpose I really served was to make the lines longer for people who actually want to go to art school. But then I got to go home, and I wasn't as angry anymore.

Romantic Values in Mary Shelley's FRANKENSTEIN

          The narrative established in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein embodies the thematic conventions of the Romanticism movement of European society in the late 19^th century. Apart from general qualities, such as a plot central to emotionally raw awe and horror, the narrative maintains a commentary or subtext that criticizes a revolution of scientific ideals in contemporary society as a result of the Enlightenment Era. With an increase in scientific emphasis, Romanticists often attempted to reject and defy the objectification of nature under empirical sciences, which were attributed to the oversimplification and degradation of natural beauty. This is demonstrated by Victor Frankenstein’s early evolution of interest as he maintains a visceral appreciation for the application of natural elements which is later devolved and adulterated by a pursuance of the scientific method which promotes a moral downfall. The narrative associates a type of evil mysticism and supernaturalism to the art of science as if it were a fallible and unfounded power, a pagan religion, which only converts the world-weary man into the troubled man.

            This representation of all experimental and empirical methods as an unreliable form of pseudoscientific pursuit is matched by the field of alchemy. Alchemy represents a perfect embodiment of the scientific criticisms of the Romantic movement. The object of alchemy is entirely unattainable, thus an indulgence in its practice would reflect the presumption of the ability to achieve the impossible-again a reference emphasizing the thematic recurrence of man’s hubris. Alchemy also maintains a negative connotation, associated with witchcraft and an intensely rudimentary demonic spirituality.

            Romanticists believed that the innocence of childhood, as paralleled by Victor’s early interest in the natural world, was to be later diluted and corrupted by cultural and societal conventions; in the 1800s social hierarchy was integral. An increased elevation in the hierarchal scale suggested a less primitive and rural familiarity with nature, thus it would exemplify a match to divine power over nature which for Romanticists was a demented status. Victor Frankenstein’s access to scientific literature demonstrates the ease of corruption with regards to status in the higher class. Thus science is automatically paralleled with false godhood.

Tragedy and Death in Mary Shelley's FRANKENSTEIN

           Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein presents the circumstance in which death is an ultimate catharsis to a faulted creation. It revisits the idea that death, in its peaceful and silent method, is entirely promoted by the natural world and that death is not necessarily a relief from life, but rather a final sacrifice that one with life owes to its creator in returning to the endless naught. It is the cyclical conventionality of nature to present life with death; however, Victor Frankenstein has indulged in the hubris of assuming the position of an imperfect God, and while robbed of true deistic power, he chooses still to promote life which inevitably will end, and has ended, with this life, his creation, ironically choosing death. There is a literary paradox formed in the manner in which humans commemorate or emphasize death and the subtle and repressed nature with which death consumes the monster. There is an incredibly passive yet relieving value to the death of Frankenstein’s monster; it alludes to the birth of Biblical Adam in Paradise lost, from clay to ashes, as if in life the magnitude of death is entirely reduced. This contradicts with Romantic values, the recognition of life as nature’s gift and presents the idea that, in science’s attempts to reinvent human life, there is a consequence of absence, of some missing visceral quality which awards meaning to life. This is literally represented when considering the deaths that Victor has inadvertently created as opposed to the singular and solitary life he has so proudly crafted.

            There is almost a bitter irony in the death of the monster, there is no satisfaction felt by the reader but rather a lasting and surprising empathy; it is a diatribe on the wavering frailty of human emotions. Though the monster has murdered it is through sympathy and understanding of the human condition which begs love and friendship that it is recognized that Victor is the unlikely antagonist. This fickle quality of human allegiance is an active reason why humans, when plagued with hubris, make faulted Gods.

Foreshadowing and the Death of Henry Clerval in Mary Shelley's FRANKENSTEIN

The narrative of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein develops an embodiment of a central Romantic theme and intent through the foreshadowing of anti-hero Henry Clerval’s death by Victor Frankenstein’s  monster,  his creation, and a relation to the destruction of the admiration of the natural world by a vain and uncontrollable scientific endeavor. Henry Clerval, within the novel, represents the anti-hero, the remaining innocence of Victor Frankenstein in his capacity to appreciate, understand, and fall ill to the majesty of nature (represented as deistic by Romantic values). This suggests that the ability to interpret nature is a celebrated naivety, like that in the innocence and unadulterated virtue of a child, that is killed (in the novel literally) by Frankenstein’s assumption of an imperfect god in creating his monster.

            It is consistent with the faults of hubris the deaths of Victor’s loved ones, and while it is implied in the narrative that Elizabeth means the greatest deal to Victor, it is better supported that Clerval is an intrinsic and visceral part of Victor that is distinct and tangible. With Clerval’s death, the last innocence of Victor and the portion of his soul to which salvation can ever cling is completely lost. There is an emphasis on the abysmal solitude that is inherent to scientific discovery, ironically. There is a complete contrast between the modern enlightenment and illumination associated with scientific progress and the abysmal and suffocating social and emotional darkness that surrounds both Victor Frankenstein and his creation.

            Foreshadowing with respect to the death of Clerval is accomplished through a projected irony in which it is contrasted Clerval’s exuberance and indulgence in life, “now I enjoy existence!” and the implications of his death  by his best friend’s hand. Frankenstein’s guilt is also apparent as it breaks from the framed story within the narrative; thus guilt would imply the indirect fault of Victor in his friend’s destruction, it is as though he has realized his crimes against nature.

Mary Shelley's FRANKENSTEIN and Samuel Coleridge's RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER

In Mary Shelley’s novel, Frankenstein, protagonist Victor Frankenstein employs a narrative which parallels that, both in action and in consequence, of the “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by poet Samuel Coleridge in its striking Romantic themes and its use of creation as a representation of inherent human responsibility and the likeness between oneself and one’s actions. “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” recounts the actions of hubris of an old and weary sailor who casts an albatross from the sky and is later haunted by the subsequent deaths of his crewmembers. This theme is visited in Frankenstein through the confrontation between Frankenstein’s monster and his creator, in which it is recognized the responsibility that Victor maintains to love that to which he has given life. His visceral emotions of abhorrence represent his fragility and inability to do reciprocate the nurture owed to his creature, and thus, in keeping with Romantic values, would emphasize that the animalistic qualities of man, such as hatred and fear, render the human an incapable creator with respect to the ideal might of nature. In “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, the similarities between love and creation are evident; the Mariner urges that all manner of man and beast that nature has ideally created should be loved and valued as equal, suggesting that it is only when man tries to overcome his natural order that the balance between life and death, or creation and destruction is compromised. This is too exemplified in Frankenstein’s monster’s daunting ultimatum: love in life, or death.

            Victor Frankenstein and the Ancient Mariner are too similar in the method of distancing themselves from the consequences of their actions (rationalization) until they are forced to recognize the magnitude of promoting life (Frankenstein) or death (“Rime of the Ancient Mariner”) by their respective hands. In both narratives the realization (peripeteia) is within the deaths of friends and family; and each subsequent death bears a greater weight. Death is also visited as an unnatural animation; life-in-death mirrors the curse of an arrested sleep and signifies the naturality and peace of true death, and further emphasizes the unnatural ability of man to play God under science. The grandeur of the natural world in both narratives further projects the encompassing might of nature as the determinant of fate, and heightens its role as a deity. In both narratives, the main characters are arrested in their grief; however, Frankenstein finds peace in his solidarity, while the Mariner is imprisoned by his solitude. There is a distinct morality within both narratives; they are informally didactic.

A Poem About Autumn

Filtered light floods the streets
As if in time it knows it will catch up to
The quickly evading summer
But to no avail it clings to every modicum
Of fallen life, of red litters of cackling and
Cracked leafs like broken artifacts
From the legacy of a former heat

The catharsis of a sudden breath of
Wind, cold from the deepest recesses
Of Earthen lungs
But to no avail the trials of winter try
To match the welcome chill
With too headstrong a violent gust

How subdued and dignified the Autumn seems
When framed by the most bearing conditions
But to no avail the seasons cycle
Caught in the framework of an everlasting
Will, which brings upon the passing of time
The passing of tranquility
An ephemerality lost forever to the
Mechanisms of rotation in an infinite space

How small the Autumn makes me feel.

Frankenstein as the Modern Prometheus

            Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and the narrative which it develops maintains a striking parallel with the Grecian character of Prometheus, both in the quest and vain of hubris and the mechanism of creation. Prometheus is credited in Greek mythology for providing mankind with the gift of fire far before man was fit to wield such a powerful tool and far before man was righteous enough even to propagate. As a chastisement for such insolence, Prometheus was cursed to have his liver gorged by an eagle every day, to heal and be again traumatized for eternity. Prometheus symbolizes the fall of hubris and the consequences which subsequently arise when outside forces attempt to assume the role of God, as does antagonist Victor Frankenstein when he creates his monster.

            Prometheus represents the faulted hero; in the character’s resemblance to Dr. Frankenstein it is obvious the correlations made between the creation and the provision of man. Just as Prometheus promotes the civility and progression of mankind with the gift of fire, Frankenstein admits this fire (the fire ignited by scientific revolution and enlightenment) to the creation of his monster, which is the child of this hailed scientific sophistication or civility. Thus it is ironic the birth of this monstrosity from an applied quest for scientific knowledge and advancement; Shelley is illuminating science as a misguided endeavor, or a faulted hero. In Frankenstein’s attempt to humanize the idea of science, he is indeed the modern Prometheus.

            Physiognomy works to elevate the emphasis on the pseudosciences, as does alchemy with respect to the Romanticism ideal of Frankenstein. In this way, the novel presents only these illegitimate sciences in order to embody a diatribe of the enlightenment era, suggesting that the farthest scientific progress can achieve is still the theory of unsupported thought. Science was recognized as an attempt to equivocate human endeavors with the supernatural abilities of the gods; this ability is furthered by Frankenstein’s literal creation of another human being. Still Frankenstein’s creation is faulted, representing the faulted society under the dictation of science.

            Hubris is also visited within the mythology of Prometheus, who attempted to bring humanity closer to the deities, much like Frankenstein is indirectly doing to himself in his creation. He has ushered life into the world solely under the powers of science. The magnitude of scientific creation is treated as a looming method of repercussion in the novel. No matter the might of science, it will always be a faulted and false God.

               

Nature in Asian Art

              Chinese values with respect to nature and its representation in dynastic artwork is directly relative to the conventional religious beliefs of the period and of the region, principally Daoism. Daoist philosophy was popularized by the Warring States period in China contemporary with the late Zhou Dynasty, in which political turmoil led many citizens to find solace in a universal and spiritual abstraction through nature. Thus nature is incredibly deistic in Chinese culture, while in the contemporary Western world, the human form was more exalted (consistent with the religious ideals of both the Greek and Roman cultures); this contrast is illuminated through the thematic subjects of each culture and the role which nature plays in the Eastern and Western world respectively. Early Chinese artwork portrays the dominance and the power of nature over man; Western artwork generally portrays the dominance of man over nature.

            Ink paintings on silk scrolls represent the vastness of the natural world and the overpowering presence with which it resides over humanity; Chinese artwork really introduces the idea of a common “mother nature” that is both nurturing and overwhelming. Travelers among Mountains and Streams, by artist Fan Kuan, dramatically emphasizes the striking disparity in size between the towering mountain-scape and the miniscule travelers hidden amid the terrain; however, there still remains a subtle unity which represents the embodiment of nature with respect to the human endeavor of spirituality and the role of nature in providing for the longevity of the human struggle. This is consistent with the principles of Daoism which promote intrinsic and personal cultivation through a contact with and resignation to the natural world.

            The idealistic role of nature is furthered through funerary motifs which signify the realm of heaven as that which mirrors the physical environment. Funeral banners discovered in tombs from the Han Dynasty indicate a semblance between the natural Daoist ideals and what could be considered as eternal peace. This presents a contrast with the funerary imagery of the Western works of the Greek and Roman cultures, as such scenes are central to human longevity and the portrayal of acts which were considered enjoyable and decadent; essentially human-centric. The dynamics of the human figure are greatly evolved through the progression of Western work and figural work without an adherence to religious purposes is far more abundant in these cultures than in Chinese portraiture. Geometric krater (from the Dipylon cemetery in Athens Greece) represents the importance of the human figure, and the greater human symbolism, in the afterlife.

            Through the central theme of the natural world in Chinese artwork it is evident the role of nature as both a nurturer and as a setting ideal for the realm of the afterlife with respect to the teachings of the Dao. Thus nature remains an integral factor of Chinese spirituality, in its ability to overcome and overwhelm yet embody the human endeavor towards enlightenment. The art of the contemporary Western world, in contrast, is completely central to the idealism of the human figure and is well represented by the godlike representations of the Greeks and the militaristic exaltation of the Roman patricians and conquerors.

How prepared do you feel for life after high-school?

It would not even be a matter of preparation, I really just crave college. Not the partying or the independence that comes without one's parents, but really just the learning. An environment in which people aren't as preoccupied with "finding themselves" as they are with knowing everything that they can. I am ready to leave high-school. I can't take the stupidity or the redundancy. I know that the world makes you do things that you have no passion for, but the students in the colleges to which I want to apply have a visceral passion for learning, and that is all I care about. I could be happy in a hole in the ground so long as I am getting a good education. I don't care about the nightlife or the penguins or the hamburgers, just tell me what your school offers in terms of education.
High school is about the penguins and the hamburgers, which is fine for some people. But the sociality and the tribulations of high-school have become so petty and insufferable; maybe it's not so much that I want to go to college rather that I would like to leave high-school but have too much personal pride to just loaf around and do nothing. I have a high affinity for Ramen noodles, to the point where they aren't an inferior good but rather a dining preference. They're good, like really good. I'm inventive, I can live without my parents. But I really don't know if my mom can live without me.

A Brief Lesson in Artistic Titles

Bottles

Colored-Pencil and Oil Pastel

2011

Self-Portraits

                                             

    Chinamarker Self-Portrait

Chinamarker

2012

Flower Self-Portrait

Acrylic Paint and Pencil

2012

Ink Self-Portrait

Ballpoint Pen

2012

 

Untitled

Photography

2011

 

Hi I'm Sheridan, Please Come In I Have Juice

My name is Sheridan Cavalier, this blog will be used as a platform from which I will stand and fling my artistic abilities at you, like an errant chimpanzee. People are related to monkeys so it is really not that far-fetched. Also I like science. As hilarious as it would be to continue typing in teenage colloquialisms that are representative of my generation, this is first and foremost a professional site which showcases my artwork, only the best works though as I am really self-conscious. Just kidding, I have many talents, comedy only embodies one of them, second to modesty. Because people are really into quirky things these days, I think that channeling a Michael Cera-esque air of self-deprecation is appropriate for younger readers, what with the time they have left over after driving recklessly and indulging in "virtual drugs". I want to be the peddler of the virtual drug that is this blog. Please enjoy my artwork.