Movement Manifesto

Artist's Statement
            Our manifesto grew out of a mutual interest in examining and actively questioning our society. It developed as we discussed as a group our points of interest and perspectives on what is important to social discourse, both aesthetically and as commentary.

We decided to explore different mediums to create a collection of works that portray the ideas expressed in our manifesto. This mix up of different mediums is reminiscent of the mash-up by DJ Food we were assigned to read. That 40 minute piece was built off the exact same thing we were focusing on in our manifesto. It discussed not only the history of a new genre, but many societal problems that came to light as the genre emerged. For example, it started out by reflecting on the technology that helped the genre take root; music files on the internet. With this change came the surge of access to music, but at the cost of the artists. Good and bad accompanied the events, but DJ Food was not really picking sides, rather calling attention to the developments in the society surrounding the himself.

    The main point of our manifesto is that true art exposes different aspects of the artist’s society. Our first thought was to use our art pieces to expose the problems we, as the “artists”, see around us. however, we realized that true art should not just complain about society but also celebrate it. Thus, we chose to base our artwork around the idea of exalting the common man in today’s economy. An example of this that comes to mind is the beloved artwork of Norman Rockwell, who did not choose the most beautiful subjects to draw. In fact, common man would be a very fitting word for most of his characters, and yet the pictures are so lively and strike joy in the viewer. This is a very simple yet effective example of "exalting" the common man. Since Norman Rockwell dealt with plenty of poverty in his time, and his artwork reflected that poverty, his work fit very well with the ideals of our manifesto.

            My piece of the collection, entitled Trade Marks, is a play on words. As you will find in the drawings, many of the well-known company symbols have been mixed and mingled. My generation has grown up in a crazy world of advertising and monopolies. The capitalistic country I have been raised in has thrived on it's system for decades and has become very advanced as a result, but constant competition for the new best product has caused an intellectual civil war. This war is not over territory but over names and ideas. Companies must fight for not only their name, but also for our attention. My piece is calling attention to that war (for good and bad) 

Historical Story

Artist's Statement
            History is long gone and for those of us who were not present at those vital turning points in the history books, we will never know what really happened. Often we are stuck with the one-sided opinions of the history book authors. Key to understanding the whole story is knowing how a certain event effected all who were involved in it. For example, you would get one story from a scientist who helped create the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima, but you would get quite another from a survivor of the blast. Not that either should be considered more correct, rather the understanding of both stories will enlighten us to a better understanding of the whole picture. This was particularly recognizable in the reading After the Deluge. I have to admit, before reading the comic strip style story, the only info I had about hurricane Katrina was news reports and church relief videos. I was under the impression that only the big city got hit badly and that the devastation was entirely because of the hurricane forces. Seeing how the aftermath affected several different walks of society and in many different areas made a big difference in my view of the whole event. I never knew that crime went up after the disaster and that rats were a big problem too. I didn't think about people having to move out of state to find good places to live, or about their hometown not feeling the same. These ideas came after hearing much quieter voices. Voices that are not usually heard in the news. That is the inspiration behind our script. Though symbolic in many ways, our story wanted to put the reader in the shoes of a much less common character. In fact this character would usually be considered an extra, but we found such a vantage point would bring new insights. Another motive in making this script was to show how humans have partial control of who they become, but are also somewhat shaped by their surroundings. In the TMA 114 class we just watched a film that was a perfect example of this. It was called Boy with a Bike. The child in the movie was an extreme trouble maker and was constantly hurting those who were trying to help him. He made many mistakes, but as the viewer we cannot help but feel sorry for him as his father tells him that he doesn't want him and is neglected time after time. With such an upbringing it is no wonder that he has become a troubled child. In our script, just as the tree cannot help it's future destiny as the gun that shot the president, we should at least be open to a sympathetic view of Lee Harvey Oswald, the man accused of the assassination of president John F. Kennedy.

The Birth of an Assassin
https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B-18K1Cw5hqvbDhxYUdiaks2Y0U/edit?usp=sharing
         

Genealogical Artifact

Artist's Statement
             Objects have, of course, held special places in my heart. The teddy bear I got when I was 2 certainly did. I knew things became important to us as we shared experiences with them, but I always thought of them as inanimate objects to be acted upon and nothing more. As we discussed this topic in class, and particularly when I read Ode to Things I realized that they can become much more. As time progresses and we open our hearts to these special artifacts the fact is that they also have an effect on us. This is the case with my object. It may be a lifeless piece of metal, but it evoke emotion and even action from those who come in contact with it. As I wrote I was continually reminded of the movie Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. In the same way, a pair of jeans manages to effects several different people in different ways because each of them had a different experience with them. The object then ceases to be a mere artifact and becomes a symbol of something much more. 

The Old 88' Toyota Pickup
             After getting married to my beautiful wife, Yasuko, on the island of Oahu, we were making plans for the future. She had just graduated not two days before our wedding, and I had already been accepted to transfer to BYU Provo. The logistics were going to be a little trying but we were optimistic of our future. As I was discussing plans with my mother over Skype one day, she asked what we planned on doing about a set of wheels. I told her that we would look for a cheap used car like most college students do once we got the Provo. She told me that Grandpa was seriously thinking about giving his old pickup to one of his grand children and that I should bring it up with him. I felt uneasy saying, "hey gramps! I hear you want to pawn off your junk seeing as you are getting pretty old... I'll take your truck!" That just didn't sound right to me. No matter how I rehearsed it in my mind that's how it sounded to me. Eventually I got up the courage and talked to him about it. I guess my mom beat me to the punch because he seemed ready for the conversation. He was ready to give it up. It was wonderful seeing my grandparents again. We spent a week with them exploring the nearby beauties of Washington, helping around the house, and playing cards. That week was also like going back to drivers-ed. I had to prove that I could drive Grandpa's precious truck. The task wasn't easy either. I had very limited experience with a manual transmission and what was more, it lacked power steering, power windows, and ac. Grandpa was the drill instructor and I was the lowly private as I tried to maneuver the vehicle that was older than I. toward the end of our time there I was starting to get the hang of things. Grandpa's backseat driving slowly faded out, and a strange sadness started creeping in. I could tell that he had a lot of memories invested in that heap of metal. He told me that every single scratch, dent, and ding had a story of one of his children behind it. Little did I know that when I accepted that truck that I was also entering a very select group. Grandpa had put $500 into fixing it up since it had been sitting in the garage forever. To avoid extra paperwork and sales tax, and out of the generosity of his heart, he gave the truck to me for free, marked it as a gift on the title papers, and had me pay for the repairs only. 
              It was time to leave. I said goodbye to my grandparents while grandpa said goodbye to his grandson, new granddaughter-in-law, and his old trusted companion. Before we left he told us the story of how he came about buying it. Apparently the man that sold it to him was a recently returned missionary who had married a Japanese woman. It was their first vehicle but they decided that they were going to live in Japan so the vehicle had to be sold. Grandpa then said, "looks like the pickup is going back to its roots." I happened to be in that exact same situation in life. Grandpa was right. This old machine seems to have a mystical power of nostalgia surrounding it. Everywhere I take it it seems to effect people. Any of my aunts or uncles that see it instantly tells me of the journeys they had with it. Even complete strangers fall under its power. Once I was waiting for a stop light to turn green when a guy pulled up right next to me and tapped on my passenger side window. He yelled out "Hey man! What year is this thing?" I told him it was the 88' model. He excitedly responded, "I'll give you $1,000 for her right now!" I was shocked that he would make such on offer to what I thought was an old and tired little pickup. We pulled over to talk about it and he explained that he had the exact same truck in high school for his first vehicle and it held some precious memories for him as well. I thought about the offer and that it would be a huge profit for me, seeing as I only spent $500 on it myself, but the image of my Grandpa's sad face as he watched me drive off with it kept coming into my mind. I explained the sentimental value it held for me and refused his offer. He understood, but continued to rave about the truck. He was a grease monkey by profession and thus knew the truck inside and out. He told me that the 88' Toyota pickup engine was famed as the motor that never quits. I had no clue, although I had to admit it had treated me quite well for the several thousand miles I had already driven it. My wife and I have already had many adventures of our own in that beautiful piece of machinery. The only problem we have had with her was a flat on the way back from a Vegas trip last summer. I suppose it was the first time the truck had ever used the spare. When the roadside assistance mechanic came to help us out he lowered the spare and revealed what looked like an ancient fossil. So thick was the dust and dirt that it appeared to not consist of any rubber at all. The mechanic laughed and said that he had not seen this model of tire in at least 2 decades. He was over taken with the mysterious aura of nostalgia as well and began regaling us with stories of his younger driver years.

Wife and I camping in the Uintah Mountains with the pickup 

             Everywhere we go I feel less like I am driving and more like the steward of a protected heirloom. It is not just a cute little 2 passenger, no power steering, manual transmission, 2 wheel drive, 1988 Toyota pickup. It is the photo album of memories from hundreds of adventures. It is the moving truck for who knows how many Elders quorum service moves. It is the trusted companion for many who have traveled thousands of miles with it. It is a symbol of younger days, a sign of strength through the years, and until I have a son who is old enough to take on this stewardship, it is my little pickup.