It Started with a Pinhole Camera.
Exposure. My journey with art began at a fairly young and impressionable age. For my 4th grade Science Fair, my father (a photography teacher at our local high school) helped me build a pinhole camera out of a Quaker Oats can, black paint, tin foil and masking tape. He helped me affix a piece of photosensitive paper inside the can, opposite the pinhole, and I took my first photographs of the front of my childhood home. I remember hanging out with him in our basement darkroom, learning how to add exposed film to the developing tank, pouring in developer and agitating the tray, moving the paper to the stop bath, draining the paper, and adding the fixer. The paper was then hung to dry on a line with clothespins strung across the room. Watching the photo develop throughout the process was a thrill every time. These are memories I’ve cherished throughout my life.
Experiments. Once I became ensconced in the public school’s Artists In Schools program, I began experimenting with as many mediums I could get my hands on. Like an addict with a new drug, if it was available, I tried it. There was never a lag in opportunity to become involved in some way, whether it be in the community, the public schools, or charitable organizations.
Equity. It was not a surprise to my parents that I wanted to move onto art school after graduating. We toured Kendall College of Art and Design, in Grand Rapids, MI and the admissions counselor accepted me on the spot after reviewing my portfolio. All I had to do was come up with the money to attend. There the problem lie. As mentioned in my first blog entry, my parents didn’t have the money to send me to school without causing themselves a significant hardship, and with a younger sister also to provide for, my limitations began to arise. My father discussed options available to me as I’d have to help pay for my education, an idea I wasn’t averse to.
My options were:
I could graduate and get a job at the local auto factory for a few years, save money, and then attend;
I could take out college loans and go into monumentous debt;
I could apply for grants and scholarships (all of which required much better grades than I was graduating with); or,
I could join the Army National Guard, earn the G.I. Bill and use that to attend.
After weighing all of my options, joining the National Guard seemed the fastest and cheapest way to get through school. However, this choice didn’t come without sacrifices I hadn’t really about before I joined.
A slew of training had to be completed, such as, Basic Combat Training, Advanced Individual Training, Yearly Annual Training, Monthly Inactive Duty Training.
I learned the G.I. Bill couldn’t be used at a traditional “art school” and I’d have to attend a university instead (goodbye, Kendall).
As I climbed the ranks, I had to move from one unit to another in order to obtain promotion opportunities (which equaled more money).
I missed special celebrations, birthdays, holidays, and my life was not my own because of training requirements.
At times, the local auto factory looked like it had been the better option. However, I was never one to take the easy route to get through anything, so I learned and made the most from my choices. Was I your typical kid to join the military? No. Did I grab a hold of every opportunity and squeeze every drop of experience from it? Yes.
I’ve been fortunate to have lived the life I have. I’ve met amazing people. I’ve gained second-to-none leadership experience. And I’ve never regretted the decisions I made early in life.
They made me who I am today; happy and fulfilled. How could I ever regret that?
