Art Philosophy
by Mischa Brooks-Thoma Ever wonder where some of us artists get our ideas? Coming up with images out of thin air can be a tricky thing—even more difficult if you have a deadline. Do you start with a pencil line or brush stroke and let your mind wander, as if looking at the clouds to see if there is something familiar? Do you copy from the landscapes surrounding you, or find inspiration in a photo? 
Trying to represent what your mind sees, and not what your eyes see, can be a difficult thing to do. There is something to be said about the power of imagination. It is a tool that you need to keep using in order for it to stay sharp. Use it or lose it!
Dreams, if you can remember them (and that’s a skill of its own) can be powerful instruments for creative endeavors. Dreams are like stories, images from your past, present and future all wrapped into one possibly brilliant movie unfolding in your mind. Places you go—otherworldly landscapes, castles and rooms that defy gravity—are potential backgrounds for a work of art. The creatures that don’t quite make sense—childhood pets, people familiar or strange—are the actors and extras who engage you in the script. Dreams contain more than just the audiovisual elements of movies. They affect all your senses, including touch, smell, and taste.
The intimacy of dreams gives you a full-on experience that can tweak numerous emotions and sensations, even physical pain and pleasure. Ultimately, you choose what part of the dream you want to use as your image. There are so many interesting ideas that can be used.
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by Skye Morrison I want to take responsibility for what I create. I can no longer be careless with my words, thoughts, actions, or paintbrush. I believe that we have chosen the most challenging and exciting time to be alive on this planet. Humanity is being called to rise, and that is now an urgent matter. Every aspect of our lives is being shaken, and we are becoming aware of our careless impacts on the Earth and one another. 
In general, pain sells more easily than ecstasy, and fear is more contagious than joy. Throughout history, for most passionately creative people, it was vital to tell the story of the collective struggle. People found beauty in the darkness around them by looking through the gaze of an artist. It was a matter of survival.
Although today is arguably a difficult time, I believe it is even more an evolving time. We are at the threshold of boundless possibilities. I want to shine a light, to connect to those around me through honesty and awakening, to celebrate this fantastic adventure. Maybe I am making it harder for myself by not capitalizing on the morbidity of popular media. But then, aren’t we all ready for something different? Ready to release the judgments of an outlived sorrow? I believe we are hungry for light and hope. I humbly offer you your own reflection: one of a healing humanity, one of a sublime divinity.
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by Giovanni Spezzacantena Almost anyone can come up with some form of definition for animation that revolves around the basic idea that animation is ‘drawings that move’, or maybe ‘the technique of making inanimate objects appear to move in film, video, or on computer screens’. What is maybe less contemplated is what this feels like for the animators as they create this illusion of life. If you have had any experience with animation, you know that there is a certain basic sense of empowerment in being able to produce that ‘magic trick of the eye’ for yourself, and ultimately, for an audience. Shyness and the almost standard lack of confidence in drawing ability are set aside with that initial awe when the word “cat” you just typed onto your computer screen metamorphoses into a picture of your own cat—and this after just a few simple steps! The not-so-horribly-Technical Aspects: The theory is that the phenomenon of “persistence of vision” creates the illusion of motion by blending the rapid projection of one still image with the next one, in the brain. Typically, in web animation, there are about 12 ‘frames’ or still images needed in every second of motion. The greater the difference between one frame’s visuals and the next, the faster/more erratic the resulting motion; the less things change from one image to the next, the smoother and slower the animation will seem. As the McLaren quotation above suggests, you are actually trying to reproduce movements through the drawings in a sort of reverse-engineering of real-life motion. |
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by Meghan Hildebrand Some of us this Christmas season find ourselves second-guessing the traditions we have inherited. What hands made the products we buy for our children? Why should our holiday end in so much garbage for the landfill? How can we, in good conscience, feast while so many starve? And why do we gather under the premise of a religious story to do so? These are sound questions any time of year, although Christmas has typically been the season to blow off your worries and indulge. This year something feels a little different. Attitudes are more cynical, and people are looking for ways to downplay the holiday, or at least reduce the impact of their celebration on others. 
I have but one modest idea to contribute to the mix. Frankly, I like Christmas, I like presents and lights and a tree in the house and being with friends and family. I do not want to grinch anyone’s cozy holiday; I’d rather contribute to a new paradigm of ‘holiday giving’.
I was not about to cut down a Christmas tree or buy a fake. Happily, we found an old Christmas tree discarded in our backyard, which we dried off, propped in a bucket and brought inside. We decorated it with ribbons, dried orange slices and cinnamon sticks. A friend in insurance warned us about dry trees and lights, so I’m not suggesting using your old hot bulbs. Our tree was bushy and full, even without its needles, which we didn’t have to sweep up. It let more light through the window where it stood. We have friends who followed suit: they actually trimmed a side of the dead tree off and secured it right to their wall. Out of the way of both the view and their kid, and still they had all the joy of decorating.
We have had the same dead tree for four years now, and in the summer we light it in the garden.
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by Giovanni Spezzacatena The only-just-becoming and the passing-away. These two opposing ideas describe the aesthetic of wabi-sabi. The Japanese words “wabi” and “sabi” are difficult to define precisely, because they refer to that which is elusive, personal and subtle. This is where Zen Buddhist philosophy shines through, as in the famous saying by Rinzai Gengen in the 9th Century: “When you meet the Buddha, kill him.” All meaning lies within—mistrust authority in favour of self-defined truth. 
Wabi-sabi openly romanticizes the parts of nature that are usually overlooked—the awkward, fleeting, unformed shapes and colors of early spring, and the murky corrosion and earthiness of autumn. These two extremes form much of the traditional Japanese aesthetic sense that evokes certain melancholia, where the natural world and seasons are seen as symbolically reflecting the inescapable stages of life.
The wabi-sabi aesthetic can occur in any art form, whether Zen poetry or haiku, design, pottery, or paintings and architecture. It can be functional, representational or completely abstract. Wabi-sabi is not about an artist’s use of materials, tools or even the employment of a ‘style’—it is a mindset. Wabi-sabi values natural products, textures, and irregularities, again evoking Zen philosophy where these imperfections point to a deeper truth, and encourage contemplation.
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