Nate Moore, Eight Jet Star 211
Jiha Moon, The Official VisitVisiting Robert C. Williams Paper Museum at Ga Tech was altogether a "home-sweet-home" moment for me. Although the visit was brief, a light bulb in my darkness of uncertainty exploded with electrifying intensity and clarity. Not only do I connect with the work of artist Jiha Moon because of our similar heritage, I think her use of traditional elements are accessible to the modern viewer. Talking with Brian from Saltworks Gallery was interesting as well. He noted that Moon's work brings the viewer in through various recognizable elements. For someone like me, who shares her cultural background (not really, but somewhat... I'll explain later) the color scheme and variation in line quality allows me to make the connection with traditional Korean art, but one piece had traffic cones within the composition. As Brian pointed out, they act as a play on tradition and her current residency in Atlanta, Georgia.
Nate Moore's work consists of found paper, folded into "jets" and then carefully placed on a structured grid system. There were four large frames filled with these jets that covered one whole wall of the gallery. The repetitive shapes of the jets in such a rigid structure were complemented by the variety of patterns, shapes, and colors of the found paper.
In high school, I used origami for a number of my pieces. The one piece that got selected in the group show for College Board's AP Studio Art, was a design piece that explored the visual elements of instructions for origami. The importance of effective visual references intrigued me, because most people oversee the aesthetic value in these illustrations. They both effectively communicate a set of instructions and possess some visual character.
Exploring the root/source/meaning/drive of my art making has caused me to question my identity, my personal history, the issues that concern me the most, and the way it all influences the formal qualities of my work. I realize the duality of structure vs. freedom interests me the most. There is a play between structured geometric shapes and lines that are attempting to break free in the gestural repetitive marks. I'll post some of my work eventually.... sigh.
I am Korean, but with so little exposure to Korea. During a recent critique, a friend who grew up in Korea commented that my work is very "Korean." But how this influence has reached me all the way here in Atlanta, Georgia, I do not know. I'm starting to realize that a cultural identity can be formed in a contrasting cultural context. It's not like I can really say that the four years of early childhood education in an American school in Korea really contributed to the development of a Korean identity. I only spoke English for the first half of my life, and now I am fluent in both Korean and English. The intentionality of seeking out my mother's culture did not start until I was surrounded by other Asian Americans in school. Yet, I am not American either because I was unaware of common American tradition for most of my life as well. The more-Americanized father that I barely know grew up in Hawaii, a place where the Caucasian is a minority nicknamed "howlie."
It's no wonder why my mother often gets frustrated to the core with me; we have such different worldviews. I look like I should know where she's coming from, because we look the same. I resemble those of her culture, but the illusion diminishes as our core values clash and our misinterpretations, unspoken expectations, and narrow-minded assumptions collide with irreparable hurt as a result.
If my art is a manifestation of who I am, then currently it accurately represents me: timid, headstrong, passionate, fleeting, finicky, frustrated, persistent, impulsive/spontaneous, and somewhat neglected.
My art shows me parts of myself that I'd prefer not to face.
Haha, AA should stand for "Artists Anonymous."
Nate Moore's work consists of found paper, folded into "jets" and then carefully placed on a structured grid system. There were four large frames filled with these jets that covered one whole wall of the gallery. The repetitive shapes of the jets in such a rigid structure were complemented by the variety of patterns, shapes, and colors of the found paper.
In high school, I used origami for a number of my pieces. The one piece that got selected in the group show for College Board's AP Studio Art, was a design piece that explored the visual elements of instructions for origami. The importance of effective visual references intrigued me, because most people oversee the aesthetic value in these illustrations. They both effectively communicate a set of instructions and possess some visual character.
Exploring the root/source/meaning/drive of my art making has caused me to question my identity, my personal history, the issues that concern me the most, and the way it all influences the formal qualities of my work. I realize the duality of structure vs. freedom interests me the most. There is a play between structured geometric shapes and lines that are attempting to break free in the gestural repetitive marks. I'll post some of my work eventually.... sigh.
I am Korean, but with so little exposure to Korea. During a recent critique, a friend who grew up in Korea commented that my work is very "Korean." But how this influence has reached me all the way here in Atlanta, Georgia, I do not know. I'm starting to realize that a cultural identity can be formed in a contrasting cultural context. It's not like I can really say that the four years of early childhood education in an American school in Korea really contributed to the development of a Korean identity. I only spoke English for the first half of my life, and now I am fluent in both Korean and English. The intentionality of seeking out my mother's culture did not start until I was surrounded by other Asian Americans in school. Yet, I am not American either because I was unaware of common American tradition for most of my life as well. The more-Americanized father that I barely know grew up in Hawaii, a place where the Caucasian is a minority nicknamed "howlie."
It's no wonder why my mother often gets frustrated to the core with me; we have such different worldviews. I look like I should know where she's coming from, because we look the same. I resemble those of her culture, but the illusion diminishes as our core values clash and our misinterpretations, unspoken expectations, and narrow-minded assumptions collide with irreparable hurt as a result.
If my art is a manifestation of who I am, then currently it accurately represents me: timid, headstrong, passionate, fleeting, finicky, frustrated, persistent, impulsive/spontaneous, and somewhat neglected.
My art shows me parts of myself that I'd prefer not to face.
Haha, AA should stand for "Artists Anonymous."
