Blog 4: Fire Through Pencils (Isaiah)
I realized that my deepest confidence is not based in controlling the perceptions of others, but embracing the truth of who I am.
As part of my fallback to long car rides and commutes, I've been rediscovering a lot of old, nostalgia-filled, childhood songs. It feels nice going down memory lane and re-experiencing all of those different songs in the past that made you smile. With each of my different trips, I've been going down the list of years, from songs from last year all the way to early middle school. For me, as I was scrolling through my old Spotify playlists, Soundcloud, and even my old "liked" Youtube playlist, I couldn't stop smiling while listening to all of the different groups and genres that I had a "phase" with. Like, I knew I wasn't crazy telling my friends that I knew Bastille in 2010 before they were popular. Or that I've been listening to my homegirl Tori Kelly since her late 2000's Youtube days, back when videos were still 360p (I know almost all of the words to her old originals). However, in my memory lane "spelunking", I had that warm and fuzzy feeling towards a particular something: an old movie soundtrack.
A big influence in my childhood was Studio Ghibli, a Japanese animation film studio popular from the 1980s to the mid 2000s, with works such as My Neighbor Totoro, Spirited Away, Ponyo, and so many more. To me, there was a certain magic with Ghibli films. While other kids fell in love with Disney, I grew a particular interest towards Ghibli films with their unique direction of stories, their sense of magical realism, but most importantly, their deep and sophisticated characters. It was never about your stereotypical Disney female model princess protagonist. I think that what Ghibli taught me is that all heroes come in all shapes and sizes; it's not that there were just female leads, it's all of his leads, both human and magical creatures, were not only characters that embodied power and independence, but also built a relationships with others to better those around them. Founder and Director of Studio Ghibli, Hayao Miyazaki, even states himself,
"I've become skeptical of the unwritten rule that just because a boy and girl appear in the same feature, a romance must ensue. Rather, I want to portray a slightly different relationship, one where the two mutually inspire each other to live - If I'm able to, then perhaps I'll be closer to portraying a true expression of love." - Hayao Miyazaki
That statement blew my mind back then.
My interest in his films also blended with my hobbies as well. The movie soundtracks were always amazing and held memorable throughout the years. A lot of my art and character design works were inspired and rooted by the foundations of Ghibli storyboards and character designs. I would do art studies of Ghibli animation, drawing inspiration from its different figures and expressions. I would try to recreate their art styles and aesthetic, and much of my current style of drawing both architecture and people all derive from the simple art style innocence of Ghibli.
But that was a long time ago; my Ghibli phase had ended a while back. Ghibli was my own personal time of innocence. Since then, I've matured a lot from where I was 10+ years ago, both in terms of ideologies and interests. My interests have expanded to more than just the simple artistry of childhood animation films. And the same could be said about my beliefs as a whole. In my high school and especially college experience, the journey of my self-discovery, core beliefs, and values have been a constant battle of trying to protect that identity and self with a sense of fierce representation and pride. When I applied for GBCS, I imagined my time in DC being a more amplified experience of that. I imagined that there would be a lot of advocating for my own and the church's beliefs, and having frequent debates on social justice against others. And despite having my own set of values to defend, I admit I was a little scared and worried. I wasn't like all of the other social justice leaders I've grown to admire and look up to. I wasn't confident in myself at all in how I would handle myself, and whether I would find the conviction in me to stand for what's right.
That fear of uncertainty was what DC was all about to me anyways: a partisan battlefield of different backgrounds advocating for their own movements. Growing up and studying government heavily in high school, I've been accustomed to the ever growing divide in our modern day society. Isn't it that the goal of politics to win? And by winning, to have your own political ideals and goals achieved through assimilating citizens to elect the party's representatives?
But as I've spent more and more time in DC, I've been exposed to different ideologies and movements, some partisan and some bipartisan. Our meetings at the IFCMW (Interfaith Council of Metropolitan Washington, or just call it Interfaith) deals a lot with the unity of many different religious backgrounds coming together. At our IFC events, our booths will have a small "Unity" whiteboard that people will hold up displaying a message of unity. Everyone writes something different, but it goes along the lines of stating your religious identity, followed by a written appreciation towards another religious background.
This was a new experience for me: this concept of religious unity that Interfaith sought to express. In a society so hellbent on highlighting the humiliation and disfunction of the other side, it was a strange breath of fresh air to see different ethnic backgrounds, let alone religious groups, working to uphold the universal concept of love and unity. Regardless of your religious background, Interfaith emphasizes the belief that we are all #AllFaithsOneFamily. It stands by the mission of creating an "inclusive community of diverse faiths in our nation's capital that is focused on the values that unite us and the distinctions that make each faith unique". It wasn't about trying to argue and change other people. It was about embracing your identity.
My witness in the work of Interfaith, through multiple events such as their Unity Walk, or their Interfaith Concert, made me realize that I can still hold true to my core beliefs while still holding the appreciation for the differences of everyone else. It wasn't the differences of others that were highlighted; rather, it was the recognition and appreciation for everyone's individuality.
I realized that my deepest confidence is not based in controlling the perceptions of others, but embracing the truth of who I am.
This was one of the most important beliefs that I unconsciously held true to when I first started art school. It was competitive and brutal. Critiques, which were held nearly everyday, were meant to break and mold the individual to "grow". We were forced to push the boundaries of our creative capabilities while somehow still trying to hold true to an identity. It's a little bit intimidating when you compare yourself to students who hold inspirations from critically acclaimed designers, to my inspirations which were just from old, 1980s Ghibli movies. More so than any other major, all artists always compare themselves to their immediate colleagues. I was no exception, and I felt this nearly everyday. There arises questions of doubt and uncertainty; that because someone's piece seems so good it instantly makes your own's obsolete. Everyone is always comparing themselves to others. In a major so focused on an individual's artistry and creativity, it's the artist's own personal insecurities that become their biggest setbacks.
That being said, it's important to stay firm to your foundations of where your roots are. And that's what Ghibli was to me. It was familiar. It was comfort. It wasn't until much later in my school year that I came to embrace my roots and upbringings. Despite my more unconventional art background, I was selected in the major for a reason. We all came from different "artistic backgrounds" and upbringings, but it's the diversity in skillset and artistry that allowed us to have a place here today. It was the individuality of each of us that the professors embraced and wanted to build upon. What medium you might struggle in, there's another you may specialize. And as we've gone deeper into the program, I've found that it's also vital to learn other things to help support embrace your own personal uniqueness.
That's the most impactful aspect of nostalgia to me. It was very important for me on a personal level to come back and reflect on all of those different "phases" I've experienced. I know I'm going to be awkward at times. Or timid, or worried. But I still have my own set of beliefs and values. I don't have to try and compete, or compare myself all the time. Just like how I've learned to embrace my own talents in art school, I've learn to build my own personal confidence by believing in the truth in what makes me, me. For someone struggling to find their own voice in society, I learned that those who truly embrace themselves are the most powerful.
Isaiah (Interfaith Council of Metropolitan Washington)
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| Kiki's Delivery Service! |
That statement blew my mind back then.
My interest in his films also blended with my hobbies as well. The movie soundtracks were always amazing and held memorable throughout the years. A lot of my art and character design works were inspired and rooted by the foundations of Ghibli storyboards and character designs. I would do art studies of Ghibli animation, drawing inspiration from its different figures and expressions. I would try to recreate their art styles and aesthetic, and much of my current style of drawing both architecture and people all derive from the simple art style innocence of Ghibli.
But that was a long time ago; my Ghibli phase had ended a while back. Ghibli was my own personal time of innocence. Since then, I've matured a lot from where I was 10+ years ago, both in terms of ideologies and interests. My interests have expanded to more than just the simple artistry of childhood animation films. And the same could be said about my beliefs as a whole. In my high school and especially college experience, the journey of my self-discovery, core beliefs, and values have been a constant battle of trying to protect that identity and self with a sense of fierce representation and pride. When I applied for GBCS, I imagined my time in DC being a more amplified experience of that. I imagined that there would be a lot of advocating for my own and the church's beliefs, and having frequent debates on social justice against others. And despite having my own set of values to defend, I admit I was a little scared and worried. I wasn't like all of the other social justice leaders I've grown to admire and look up to. I wasn't confident in myself at all in how I would handle myself, and whether I would find the conviction in me to stand for what's right.
That fear of uncertainty was what DC was all about to me anyways: a partisan battlefield of different backgrounds advocating for their own movements. Growing up and studying government heavily in high school, I've been accustomed to the ever growing divide in our modern day society. Isn't it that the goal of politics to win? And by winning, to have your own political ideals and goals achieved through assimilating citizens to elect the party's representatives?
But as I've spent more and more time in DC, I've been exposed to different ideologies and movements, some partisan and some bipartisan. Our meetings at the IFCMW (Interfaith Council of Metropolitan Washington, or just call it Interfaith) deals a lot with the unity of many different religious backgrounds coming together. At our IFC events, our booths will have a small "Unity" whiteboard that people will hold up displaying a message of unity. Everyone writes something different, but it goes along the lines of stating your religious identity, followed by a written appreciation towards another religious background.
This was a new experience for me: this concept of religious unity that Interfaith sought to express. In a society so hellbent on highlighting the humiliation and disfunction of the other side, it was a strange breath of fresh air to see different ethnic backgrounds, let alone religious groups, working to uphold the universal concept of love and unity. Regardless of your religious background, Interfaith emphasizes the belief that we are all #AllFaithsOneFamily. It stands by the mission of creating an "inclusive community of diverse faiths in our nation's capital that is focused on the values that unite us and the distinctions that make each faith unique". It wasn't about trying to argue and change other people. It was about embracing your identity.
My witness in the work of Interfaith, through multiple events such as their Unity Walk, or their Interfaith Concert, made me realize that I can still hold true to my core beliefs while still holding the appreciation for the differences of everyone else. It wasn't the differences of others that were highlighted; rather, it was the recognition and appreciation for everyone's individuality.
I realized that my deepest confidence is not based in controlling the perceptions of others, but embracing the truth of who I am.
This was one of the most important beliefs that I unconsciously held true to when I first started art school. It was competitive and brutal. Critiques, which were held nearly everyday, were meant to break and mold the individual to "grow". We were forced to push the boundaries of our creative capabilities while somehow still trying to hold true to an identity. It's a little bit intimidating when you compare yourself to students who hold inspirations from critically acclaimed designers, to my inspirations which were just from old, 1980s Ghibli movies. More so than any other major, all artists always compare themselves to their immediate colleagues. I was no exception, and I felt this nearly everyday. There arises questions of doubt and uncertainty; that because someone's piece seems so good it instantly makes your own's obsolete. Everyone is always comparing themselves to others. In a major so focused on an individual's artistry and creativity, it's the artist's own personal insecurities that become their biggest setbacks.
That being said, it's important to stay firm to your foundations of where your roots are. And that's what Ghibli was to me. It was familiar. It was comfort. It wasn't until much later in my school year that I came to embrace my roots and upbringings. Despite my more unconventional art background, I was selected in the major for a reason. We all came from different "artistic backgrounds" and upbringings, but it's the diversity in skillset and artistry that allowed us to have a place here today. It was the individuality of each of us that the professors embraced and wanted to build upon. What medium you might struggle in, there's another you may specialize. And as we've gone deeper into the program, I've found that it's also vital to learn other things to help support embrace your own personal uniqueness.
That's the most impactful aspect of nostalgia to me. It was very important for me on a personal level to come back and reflect on all of those different "phases" I've experienced. I know I'm going to be awkward at times. Or timid, or worried. But I still have my own set of beliefs and values. I don't have to try and compete, or compare myself all the time. Just like how I've learned to embrace my own talents in art school, I've learn to build my own personal confidence by believing in the truth in what makes me, me. For someone struggling to find their own voice in society, I learned that those who truly embrace themselves are the most powerful.
Isaiah (Interfaith Council of Metropolitan Washington)
Thanks for weaving such deep reflection of self and experience!
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