Jessica We r s ky
One of my favorite animators, Glen Keane, once said that “artist” is not a title bestowed on oneself, but a title given by another. When I was finishing my BA in English in 2012, I decided that I would submit a portfolio for consideration into the BFA program and let the professors at CSUS decide if I was an “artist” or not. Since that time, my view of myself as an artist has evolved and, at times, mutated. There are often lofty goals attributed to creating art, like changing the world—or at least the art world. I have never held such a desire, even for a moment. I have always done my “best art” from a very small place in the farthest corner of my often-frazzled mind. Aside from my passion for animation and storytelling, which is what my focus is on today, the most exhilarating art I have ever created has always come out of me like the pangs of childbirth. It gestates inside me until I have to get it out and there is no stopping until the creation is sitting there in front of me, breathing on its own. The piece I have submitted is a representation of this process. There was a good-sized piece of Grandpa Bob’s spirit (and mine, as the child in the image) that had to be wrestled onto the canvas before I could stop toiling over it. Perhaps the struggle is representative of my lack of training in painting, (I only took one painting class during my time here) but I can’t deny the fact that I am as proud of this painting as if it were my own—perhaps imperfect—child. From here, I am venturing into the world of collaboration—into animation and film. I hope that I will never lose the spark inside me that ignites my individual creativity because pure moments of God-given ecstasy are all previews of the glory that awaits us if we persevere in this life. As St. Augustine said, “Our hearts were made for You, O Lord, and they are restless until they rest in you.” And my restless heart found some measure of genuine repose when I finished this painting. 36