Introduction
essence objects:
- Food that reminds me of my grandmother: potatoes
- Objects that remind me of home: shoes by the door
- Something I lost: my favorite green faber castell eraser
- Desert island movie: either httyd, tangled, or 2f2f
- Something I stole: a napkin from a restaurant when I was like 9, unintentionally
- What makes me feel safe: my bed
- What I wish I was better at: about everything, especially art
- Worst thing that ever happened to me: I got punched in the stomach in first grade
- A challenge I faced: moving to a new country I did not know the language of
- What helped me through that challenge: my parents would bribe me with ice cream in order for me to do my rosetta stone lessons.
- Business card logo: a koi fish or a fox
- Best smell: a eucalyptus/gum tree
- What reminds me of being a kid: having scabs from scrapes from falling
- When did I know: never have and never will
- Something I like about myself that others don’t notice: I can slightly tickle myself, not very intensely though
- Favorite word: I have a few; akvaario, onomatopoeia, and lentokonesuihkuturbiinimoottoriapumekaanikkoaliupseerioppilas
- A time I laughed so hard I cried: my friend accused me of writing “poopoo” or something on our document, it was just really funny in the moment
- A perfect saturday night look like: binge watching a new season of my favorite show, and it’s a good season, and some snacks
- Perfect sunday afternoon: drawing at home while listening to some podcast, or going to touristy places, taking lots of photos and learning random facts
- Best game ever: breath of the wild, and overwatch when you’re playing with friends who know what they’re doing
Mandala
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Perspective Piece Video Production
Personal Essay
Speaking has never been my strong suit. As a very visual thinker, I struggle when I’m forced to communicate my ideas verbally; I have a tendency to go into too much detail, trying to paint a precise picture when one doesn’t need to be created. I wasn’t always that way, though. I used to not be able to go into any detail in fact, as I used to not be able to speak at all. As a child I was diagnosed with dysphasia, a condition marked by difficulty generating and understanding speech.
When I was young, I started “speaking” just like any other child. I started making sounds, and eventually started copying what my parents were saying. However, at one point I just stopped. No one really knew why, but I regressed back into making sounds rather than words. Instead of starting to form sentences like other toddlers my age, I pointed and made sounds, hoping my parents would understand I was hungry or upset. By some magical baby powers, I was able to communicate that and many other things to them.
When I was 3, my parents took me in to get everything relating to speech tested, from my vocal cords to hearing. Everything appeared fine; I wasn’t mute or deaf, so it had to be something else. The doctors came up with a diagnosis of severe dysphasia, which would mean I would never be able to speak and would have a hard time understanding speech. My parents were devastated, but they were willing to give me all the help they could. That’s why they started taking me to speech therapy.
The first day I went in, the therapist took one look at me, my parents, and my diagnosis, and was struck by a flurry of emotions. What could she do about the dysphasia of a 4-year-old? After some convincing, she agreed to help. With her help, I eventually learned to speak. I became just like any other child at that point, for the most part at least.
One day, in first grade, my class went on a field trip to a market, where there were stands selling everything from German sausages to Hungarian candy. When we got back, we were asked to draw a picture of something from that market. Most kids drew a booth or two, but I drew a bird’s eye view of the whole place. My teachers, seeing how different mine was compared to the rest, were rightfully worried. One of them, the art teacher, informed my parents. But instead of telling them to get me some help, she suggested putting me in after-school art lessons, which they did.
I have been going to art classes for over 10 years now, and in a way, it’s become a very important part of my identity. Having forced to be a visual thinker due to my lack of language growing up has benefited me in more ways than one, but most importantly, I think it’s made me a better visual artist.
Animation