I Still Get Lost With GPS

Let’s turn the clocks all the way back to 2005 when I graduated high school (did I just date myself? If you don’t know, now ya know) and set off into the world, bright eyed and bushy tailed. I landed on Industrial Design because, contrary to my dad and sister’s successful careers as graphic designers, I felt like art meant something that you can hold in your hand. And design, even when its printed, has a disposable quality to it. I think I wanted to design cars but I couldn’t be sure now.

My grades weren’t quite good enough to get into my #1 pick, the Massachusetts College of Art aka, MassArt so we shopped around. University of Bridgeport, which was down the street, was generous enough to give us some money and there I went. I was on the industrial design track which of course included 2D and 3D design. My professor for 3D design was a real life industrial designer, or had been, and I took my time at UB pretty seriously. Serious enough to get my grades up for MassArt. A year later, we packed the van and shipped up to Boston.

For a variety of reasons that I won’t delve into here, it didn’t work out, but along the way I changed my mind about industrial design (way, way too much math and brain is like peanut), instead choosing art education. Every art teacher I had in the past had a profound effect on me and I thought, how cool to be able to do the same for someone else. I managed to stumble through two-ish semesters in Boston, and after coming home in defeat from MassArt, my options were much more limited and I ended up enrolling in courses at Housatonic Community College. I also had to get a job.

I really cannot say enough good things about HCC. It was close, it was affordable, and community college is unique in that your input is solely responsible for your output. Unlike four year schools, HCC didn’t have the support structure and advising - nobody was checking on you (which I think can be one of the shocks when departing high school for college) and if you crashed and burned, that was squarely on you. So there was a pretty considerable onus to not fuck up. I was surrounded by kids who didn’t care and were probably just going through the paces; but I was determined to make the most of my situation and put nose to grindstone.

After receiving my Associate’s from HCC, I opted to finish my Bachelor’s up at Southern Connecticut State University and it was here that our journey really begins. This was the real deal, or as real as I was going to get after the failure at MassArt. HCC was great but it didn’t have the money or the pedigree that SCSU did (and that is totally okay, community college and traditional four-year schools each have their specific uses for the right people), at least in the art department.

My advisor & 3D design professor (and later, good friend) one day came into the metal shop and asked why I wasn’t majoring in sculpture (technically you can’t major in sculpture, the actual degree is Studio Art) and I didn’t have an answer for her. In my peanut brain, you go to college to gain skills for the real world and I sure didn’t want to be making coffee for the rest of my professional life - majoring in studio art sounded like a solid way to ensure that just that would happen.

But how do you put a price on happiness? How can you rationalize NOT doing something that you love, that really calls to you and fulfills you? Part of the reason I switched to studio art is because after some preliminary art courses, in the art education track, you stop creating your own art in college. And you learn how to instruct others (which, surprise surprise, is the point). That sat poorly with me, as two years of education courses sounded real lame, and metalwork was fun. My dad had some reservations, but both my parents are true gems and so the switch was made.

I was now a “capital A” Artist, as one professor used to say. My time at SCSU was phenomenal and I look back on it fondly. I was extremely fortunate to have such a positive college experience, especially after the false starts. I made lifelong friends and connections and found what I had lost years ago somewhere between MassArt and HCC. And yet, life after college was spent meandering until recently and in a lot of ways the wandering continues. That’s a post for another day.

Do I regret the decisions I made in college? No, but I wish I thought beyond the classroom and studio. It turns out metal sculpture is really fucking expensive and you need specialized tools, plus a specialized location to do it in. I was able to work on projects after college here and there, but learned quickly that I wouldn’t be making a living “doing what I loved”.

In The Matrix Reloaded, Morpheus hits Neo with “What happened happened, and couldn’t have happened any other way.” under wildly different context of course, but I feel its a healthier way of viewing the progression of your life and not drowning in what might have been. Parts of me are stuck back there but I think that’s true for all of us, and coming to that understanding has helped me move forward. If you had asked me where I thought I would be five years ago, I certainly wouldn’t have said “blogging”.

It Wasn't Supposed to be Like This

Many years ago (maybe not that many), this place was different.

When I changed my major from Art Education to Studio Art, I pretty much lived in this room. Back then, it didn’t look like this - that wall behind the media blaster had yet to be built and we didn’t have that fancy drill press. I think the vacuum is original equipment. There were screens to segment the welding area (where I spent most of my time) from the woodworking area. This is where I had my first exposure to a mig welder and a plasma cutter. I thought they were magical. They’re a little terrifying when you’re learning how to use them but that’s soon replaced by what you’re able to do with them.

I started working as a University Assistant, which meant I supervised the open lab hours. I worked a few hours a couple nights a week. People were always coming in and out; usually the same people. We got food delivered sometimes. We played loud music in the classroom. I made friendships that I’ll value for the rest of my life.

Recently, my friend and mentor, who set me on the path to sculpture and has been a constant in my life since then, approached me and asked if I would like to come back and work again. Fuck yes! Unfortunately my stupid ass hung on to the dead end job I had at the time, and it was a while until I actually started working.

I hadn’t been on campus in a minute - at least three years. A lot of things were different, but walking into that building, and that classroom, and that shop, it felt a little like I had never left. There’s a smell to the shop and I fucking love it. It’s the smell of creation.

And yet, something was missing. All the machines were there but the people were not. I won’t get into the why and the how - I think we all know that by now. But what you might not know is that there is silence where there was once noise. The new air filtration system that got installed is deafening but sometimes I run it to pretend that I’m not the only one here. Instead of sawdust, sparks, metal shavings, paint, plaster drips, power drills, angle grinders, bandsaws, laughing, swearing, yelling, discussing and crying there really isn’t much at all. There aren’t even that many other people in the building.

I know why it has to be this way, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. The one student that I see says “stay safe” when she leaves. Not have a good weekend, or see you next week, or something stupid or funny - “stay safe”. And that breaks my heart, because I fear that she’ll never have what I had all those years ago. I fear that instead of a living, breathing, sometimes unforgiving environment, surrounded by her peers, she has Zoom and Teams and material sign out sheets and a uniquely solitary experience.

But I know she has good teachers, and she’s in good hands. She makes the best of it. Which, I guess, is all we can do given the circumstances. Maybe I’m taking it too personally. Maybe I expected to return and find everything just the way I left it. Maybe it’s another symptom of me being stuck on where I’ve been rather than where I’m going.

I think back on my time at SCSU often, probably moreso now that I’m working there again. It was a classic case of not knowing how good you had it until it’s over. After graduation, I really didn’t have a lot of direction in life. I struggled with art needing to be my career after having spent so much time (and money) learning it. Only recently, and I mean very recently, did I learn that the career and the passion don’t have to be the same thing (and perhaps it’s better if they’re kept apart). So now I’m on a different path, but I once again have access to the tools that shaped me all those years ago. There’s big lapses in my creative periods, but hopefully that won’t be the case in the near future. There was a time when I had a stable enough income to create on the side, but I was too preoccupied with what I didn’t have, and what I thought I wanted, that I wasted that.

March of this year pressed the reset button on a lot of things. It brought others to a halt. I think that the community that once flourished here, the community that made me, will return. I don’t know when, or if it’ll be the same. I guess we do have to grow up eventually. I made a lot of mistakes back then that I don’t want to repeat. It’s important to remember that maybe it wasn’t as much of a mistake if you learned something from it.

I can’t wait until this place feels alive again, because right now this sucks. I could go on and on, but maybe that’ll be in another blog. Or maybe not.

Until then, stay safe out there.