Indiana Art School

One of the burdens (and, arguably, one of the blessings as well) of being a freshman lies in the inevitable task of choosing a major. Many youngsters enter their first year of college with absolute certainty—declaring their major prior to even taking their first class in the chosen field. Others enter with an inkling concerning what they would like to pursue; however, there still exists a measure of uncertainty, which usually results in a fall schedule that is crowded with intro-courses in many fields in order to determine a definite academic path (though it is not always definite). Still, other students enter college with absolutely no idea of what a major even is—let alone with a clear idea of which one to pursue. Though each student is different in his/her academic journey, what seems to be a unifier of all these journeys is this one fact: we never know exactly how things will turn out! Majors and minors are changed, replaced, substituted, dropped, added, dropped again, etc. all the way up to senior year. This fact has manifested itself in my own academic journey, and though I would have never guessed four years ago that I would be graduating as an English and Art & Design major, I am certain that things have turned out exactly as they should have. 

I recently had the privilege of traveling to Dayton, Ohio to see AU Alumni, Lawrence Brownlee, perform at the Dayton Opera as a part of its Star Gala series. I am a young, closet classical music enthusiast—listening to Pavarotti and international symphonic orchestras when thought to be alone—so I very much enjoyed Brownlee’s performance of his favorite selections. While sitting in a section lined with AU alumni and current students and in perfect view of President Edwards and company, I could not help but feel proud of the institution and legacy of which I am a part. Brownlee represents one of many alumni who were trained in a specific art or craft at AU and were afterwards launched outwards and upwards in their particular field. Brownlee has gained particular attention from the AU community, having performed on prestigious stages in New York, San Juan, Rome, Zurich, Berlin, London, etc, and his career is really just now begin to blossom. 

As a senior-year Art Major (as well as an English Major), I have just recently realized that most of my non-art peers have no idea what really goes on behind the big metal doors of the 3D Art world! So, I suppose it is time to offer a small window into what my life looks like as an Art major at the moment.

 

I first must clarify that, because I am a complimentary major with my alternate studies in English, my experiences in the Art Department—though vast and numerous—do not reflect the deeper experience of a full art major. Regardless, over the past three years I have had the opportunity to dapple in many different art forms and experiment with unique materials and tools. I am currently in a Sculpture class, and I have already had my hands on paper pulp, clay, plaster, wax, sheet metal, and other organic materials. I am currently in the process of moving a piece of mine—that outlines the form of an African woman cradling her two young children on her lap—into the metal casting process, either in aluminum or bronze. 

 

One of the unique parts of being a student in AU’s Art Program is that we have the opportunity to witness and occasionally be a part of the work of the faculty. I spend many hours on the first floor of the department—which includes the ceramics, sculpture, carpentry, and glass departments—and not a day goes by that I do not see some of the faculty moving about the space as they work on their own projects. My sculpture and ceramics professor, Ken Ryden, is an accomplished sculptor, and he just recently completed a large commissioned piece that he has worked on for over a year. We had the pleasure of watching the process unfold over the past year—as the piece moved from sketches to clay to plaster molds to wax to sand molds to the final bronze piece! The work of my peers is just as noteworthy, and it has been an amazing opportunity to work beside such talent and dedication. I would encourage any and all—whether there is interest in the arts or not—to make a pass through the department. It really is not as scary as the kilns, broken metal, and rusty barrels showered over the lawn outside the building often imply.

Anna Long

For those who are unfamiliar with the work of Hillsong United and their i-heart campaign…

 

Hillsong United began, simply, as a bunch of musicians from Sydney Australia with a passion for worship. They started as the youth band for their local church, and after releasing a few recording projects, they were thrown into the global Christian music scene. Members of HU admit to struggling with the concept of gaining fame as ‘worship leader’ and many who are familiar with their ministry also struggle with his notion and likely question intentions. However, HU began a project that addressed this struggle in light of the injustice of poverty, hunger and brokenness in the world at large. This project, called i-heart, began as a vague vision for change; however, the vision eventually saw the light with the completion of the first phase of the ministry: the i-heart album. The second phase of this vision took on flesh as a group of film-makers began work on a documentary. Released LIVE on Wednesday evening of this past week in cinemas across North America, the project looks into the struggle that the Hillsong United crew has faced when they play at the biggest, fanciest venues across the world, all the while question whether their music and ministry is actually affecting the broken streets that they take to get to the arenas. More prominently, however, the 2-hour documentary directly and boldly takes on the notion of the church’s dying role in the world in the face of the great injustice that occurs daily. It is a revolutionary call to Love.

 

This film has been greatly anticipated by many on AU’s campus—so much so that the themes in the documentary laid the foundation for the direction of the Vision Revision Ministry on campus (a ministry that seeks to connect the arts to campus life). I was only one of a few that was able to attend the one-night-only screening of the film; so, in order to make it more available, another special screening of We’re All in This Together, will take place next week. I am hoping that every seat in the auditorium is filled because this work by Hillsong United and the themes addressed—both creatively and smartly—has the potential, in HU’s words, “not to just start a revolution, but to do something even bigger.”

Anna Long

I realized that I haven't really been talking about the school aspect of school. So here it goes.  This year, our campus theme is Exercising Freedom. I personally think that this applies to many things at AU. One of the freedoms that I have experienced in college is the freedom to choose our schedules.  I know most people do this in high school, myself included, but in high school you are limited by the time constraints of the school day.  My freshman year at Anderson I decided that I would take a Greek language class...but it started at 8:00 in the morning.  Now that doesn't sound too bad, especially because I had to start school at 7:15 the year before. But I can tell you that it was HORRIBLE to try and force myself out of my nice warm bed in order to drag myself to a class where the teacher literally spoke a foreign language. I never again scheduled an 8:00.

This year I have 3 classes back to back on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but I'm done by noon...which is awesome.  I have 2 afternoon classes on Tuesday and Thursday and I also have a night class on Mondays.  In college there is so much more freedom for you to truly make your own schedule.  If you have no interest in music, you take an art class, or even an art appreciation class.  No one forces you to take chemistry or algebra.  In this sense, I have the choice to take what interests me...which is what a liberal arts education is all about.

Gina Farmer

As a senior, I have had the pleasure of having several faculty members in my major departments (English & Art) for multiple classes. When I jumped into the Art Program, I was curious to see the work of the faculty that would be guiding me in my studies. I was curious about how and why some of the faculty members came to teach at Anderson, for many of them gained great national and international reputation for their individual artwork—paintings, sculptures, glasswork, architectural design, collage, and woodwork. However, it was not until this year that I was given a peek into the world of my professors outside of the University. Currently, there is a Faculty Art Show in Fine Arts—boasting works from each of the faculty members. I was blown away by some of the pieces in the gallery, and my respect and appreciation grew ten-fold for several of the artists.

Similarly, I have gotten to know several of my English Professors and have been given a window into what they do outside of the University. This year, I am taking a course on American Poetry from the faculty chair. This course is the only course he is teaching this semester because he is doing a great deal of traveling, for he has become an expert on the works and lives of Henry David Thoreau and C.S. Lewis.

Because of his success in costume, Dr. Radaker has been asked to perform across the country—particularly in the Northeast—and give performances as these two famous literary men. Though he often slips into character haphazardly in class, I have yet to witness one of his many performances. However, this week in chapel, Dr. Radaker has been given the full time slot to present to the Chapel Audience his depiction and portrayal of C.S. Lewis.

I am always impressed by the faculty members who offer students peeks into their work outside of professor-hood; there are some fine intellectuals who, for one reason or another, have chosen to offer their minds and energies to the academic lives of Anderson students, and for that I am grateful.

           Anna Long

 

 

 The day finally arrived for Kimmi and she is now moved in at AU and ready for her first year of college!  She had her car loaded up and ready to go and after running some last-minute errands in the morning we headed to Anderson in the early afternoon.  Driving over, I kept glancing in the side rear-view mirror to see her following behind.  The words in the mirror were a strange comfort:  ”objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.”  John wondered aloud if Kimmi had butterflies.  ”I do,” I replied as he chuckled.

We arrived at Rice Hall, where I lived my sophomore year and John lived for four years.  A friendly student started to lead us upstairs to her room and as we rounded the 2nd floor set of stairs we were greeted by a bunch of smiling, colorful, upper-class art students (the dreadlocks kind of gave it away).  They guessed Kimmi’s name until they got it right, then told her they were ready to help her move in!  The moment they began their enthusiastic welcome to a much-delighted Kimmi, I could almost feel John and I becoming invisible and fading farther back in the stairwell.  This is what’s supposed to happen, though.  College life and new adventures are taking the forefront as the parents move more into the background, now filling the praying, promise-to-give-you-space, there-if-you-need-us role.   Kimmi’s new friends followed us to her car and before we knew it – all her belongings were in her room.  What a great idea!   We didn’t have that system in place when I moved in 21 years ago.  (Wow – that makes me sound really old).

Everyone we ran into was so friendly and helpful.  It was a great experience.  The RA and her roommate came by Kimmi’s room in time to help us “loft” the beds.   They’d done it many times already, they said, and showed us what to do.  We were glad because we had no idea how to get it done in that cozy space!  Her roommate showed up and after much hugging, jumping, and squealing, the increasingly invisible mom said, “You must be Courtney”.

There really wasn’t much for us to do after that so we told Kimmi we’d go ahead and leave.  She came downstairs and outside with us to hug us goodbye.  I took a picture of her with her dad, then he took one of her with me.  I was doing fine until he asked,”Do you want me to take another one?  You’re not smiling very big.”  ”I’m doing the best I can,” I said and started to cry.  Oh bother.  I had decided not to cry and just be happy for Kimmi.  I WAS happy for her!  I’m just going to miss her.  As we drove home I told John it’s just the realization that nothing lasts forever and Kimmi’s childhood is behind her.  She’s entering adulthood and turning a new page.

 

No going back, only forward.  

How could we be sad, though, when she’s so eagerly and gladly heading into it all?

John told me walking through the dorm brought back so many memories of how great college was.  Big-time deja vu.  The years at AU were some of the best for each of us.   “I envy her,” he said.   So do I. 

So I am certain that it is no secret...that arguably the most common summer job for college kids is working at a camp. And, this past week, I followed suit with the National Music camp called DAYJAMS.

         This camp is hardly a traditional summer camp—as the premise simply follows the process of forming a rockband (song-writing, rehearsing, promotion, lessons, and a final concert!). It really is a brilliant concept, but as the Art Director, I have had my work cut out for me (no pun intended). In my class, the bands—consisting of 7-10 kids between the ages of 7 & 15—have to determine their band’s name, design the band logo, make band t-shirts to be worn at their show, design a band poster, design drumhead/s, decorate backstage passes, & make CD jackets to house the recordings of the final show. That is a lot to complete in 5 days! We were mostly successful in completing all the projects for the 10 bands, and I can only hope that this week is the same.

         While working with kids, of course there are plenty of humors to spread around. Some of my favorite moments include:

• A group of young 8 year-old girls were innocently brainstorming ideas for band names and came up with the concept of spelling COFFEE backwards. When spoken aloud= EEFFOC…one may understand my adamant veto against that name.

• A little boy was trying so hard to follow instructions on how to prep his t-shirt for stenciling the band logo on it. The first instruction I gave was to put the pizza box inside the t-shirt so that it tightened it up and created a smooth, flat surface for stenciling. I came around to make sure all of the bands followed this simple instruction properly, and I noticed that this little boy had just a pizza box in front of him. I asked him why this was…and he replied: “I did what you said, I put my t-shirt in my box.” To which, I gently informed him that he was suppose to put the box inside the t-shirt, not the t-shirt inside the box.

I loved watching the kids at their final concert—parents and relatives crammed into the theater. The young kids were completely saturated by the idea of being a rockstar…throwing the rock-on sign before and after their performances…trying to jump & hammer chords…trying to rock a screeching guitar solo…trying to work the audience with a microphone that nearly covers their entire face

At the St. Louis airport again. This airport (no offense if you hail from Missouri) feels rather retro by design…I am undecided concerning my feelings for it. Regardless, traveling—particularly by air—always has a way of making me think.

 

Have you ever spent time with someone and, just by being around them, they make you want to be a better person?

 

Though it seems cliché, I have had these encounters quite often lately…this seems to be one of the many benefits of traveling a decent amount and getting thrown into situations with random strangers. The individuals who seem to influence me the most tend to be those who love hard & well—Those who are marked by great hospitality—Those who go out of their way to make others comfortable. Though I have a very hospitable mother, I do not tend to take after her. I am an assumer. I presume that others will make it known what they need, and then I am obliged to meet those needs; however, what I have been convicted of lately is my failure in the art of love & hospitality. I so desire to love well, but I so often find myself to be, in the words of some of my recent campers, ‘an epic failure’. But, I have realized that I am a product of split-residency. Confused? Here’s what I mean…
 

            Having grown up in the South, yet attending school in the Midwest while calling the West Coast home has given me a fair understanding of each culture, respectively, and this idea of split-residency has been exposed to me lately, as I seem to fly back and forth from the Midwest and the West coast every other week. Each place that I spend time in is marked by a very distinct, very different culture. Here are my observations of The West Coast, or at least the Seattle area:
 

1.     An independent spirit is something to work towards.

2.     People do not seem to gather simply to ‘hang-out’; rather, they throw lavish parties with a purpose.

3.     People seem to value the night-life in the city over the simple-life at home.

4.     The traditional, strong family unit is viewed as more of an ‘old-school’ concept than the ideal.

5.     People seem to constantly be doing something, and their idea of relaxation still requires great work.

6.     Fewer families share meals around the table; rather, dinners out or YOYO nights (as our family calls them= You’re On Your Own) are more frequent.

 

Now, for the Midwest:
 

1.     Mothers seem to hold the family together, making the kitchen the gathering place for the household.

2.     People seem eager to make others comfortable and situations less awkward for visitors.

3.     People regard the family highly, fighting to maintain its strength and purity.

4.     Families value meals together, around the table, sharing about their days.

5.     Sunday afternoons usually consist of laying around together, watching the PGA or NASCAR and doing nothing, Really, nothing.

6.     Families attend church regularly together and value their relationships there.

 

Now, I am quite aware that some of these observations are more of ‘blanket statements’ that do not apply to every family, but they are reflections of over-arching ideals that I have noticed in my journeys. Because I grew up in the South and have a mother who grew up in the Midwest in a ‘traditional’/conservative farm family, my family is persuaded more by the culture of the Mid-West than that of the West coast. I appreciate and notice these ideals; however, because so many of my formative years were spent in Seattle and because my father hails from a liberal California, vineyard family, I have a tendency to fall into the independent/liberal nature of the West; thus, I am a product of split-residency. Though I value both and fluctuate frequently in my affection for one over the other, I have recently greatly appreciated the nature of the Midwest—particularly because of those people who know well what it means to love. Regardless of where I find myself, that’s what I want to do. I want to love people well. Of that I am certain.

 

 - Anna Long

 

So…I have been home for about three days now, and, as usual, I have fallen back in love with the West Coast; however, a strange sensation happened when I flew into Sea-Tac Int’l Airport on Monday night. That landing marked the first time that, rather than being overwhelmed by the settling sentiment of finally being home when the wheels hit the pavement, I felt the refreshing sentiment of the beginnings of a vacation. My ‘home’ (or whatever that term means now that I am officially a senior in college and feel as if I have no home at all) has become a location to spend holiday, rather than a place to return; it was an interesting sensation to distinguish. Perhaps even more interesting was my reaction to this distinction—I am quite content with it. How did this happen?

             Just one day prior to leaving Indiana, my sister, Ally, and I were asked to lead worship for a conference in northern Indiana for the women of Crawfordsville and the surrounding areas. It was a beautiful event—outdoors, under the trees, about 300 women, all united by a passion for Jesus Christ. We had no real connection to the women prior to the event, save a quick introduction to the conference organizer we had at one of our shows a few months prior to the event; however, I was overwhelmed by how comfortable I felt…how FREE I felt! As I sat, listening to the speaker and thinking about our next set that we would lead, I found myself questioning why I felt so FREE! Typically, I would be aching to go home to Seattle—ready for some time away, ready for home. Instead, I found myself content.

            Over the years, I have been blessed to travel quite frequently. I moved from one coast of the country to the other in high school, and then a few years later I moved from the West Coast to the Midwest. Each summer I usually have engagements all over the country (this summer looks as if it will follow suit: Idaho, Illinois, Maui, and back to Indiana). I have learned to invest well where I am when I am there, but I have also learned the value of preventing my roots from sinking so far into the ground that I lose the ability or freedom to move again. I did this very thing during my childhood—which, of course, was quite appropriate for that era of my life journey; however, when the time came to confront change, head-on, and pursue a life elsewhere, I felt as if my entire world had crumbled beneath me. I had established myself so resolutely on consistency & routine that as soon as that consistency & routine was interrupted I was left immobile and lost. Over the years, I have found great freedom in the art of ‘being where I am’ (though I confess I am still quite young in the artistry). I love being ‘home’, but my world no longer solely relies on that stability. I have been set free, in many ways, from enslavement to security. After all, Jesus was not dependent on security; he socialized with thieves and murderers. And Jesus was not dependent on a ‘home’; he was traveling often, relying on the hospitality of friends and family.

            So, as I sit in my living room—having spent most of my day lounging under the sun and spending time at the Exercise Club (the makings of a perfect vacation)—I am hardly alarmed at my sentiments of feeling as if I have no home at all. Rather, I am excited that I feel so free to go anywhere and do anything…I suppose I shall just await the opening of those heavy, burly doors that lead to the ‘anywhere’ and ‘anything’ of this world.

 - Anna Long

 

As an English major, I read a lot of novels—some phenomenal and some rather underwhelming; however, never have I read a work by the famed early 20^th century British author, Virginia Woolf, and not been speechless in the face of such literary brilliance. This week, in my British Novel course, we have been discussing Woolf’s acclaimed novel, To the Lighthouse. Though most of her novels are quite bleak, this work, in particular, offered a surprisingly promising commentary on the human condition. I will restrain my ‘nerdy’ inclination to elaborate on the particulars of how Woolf went about presenting such a commentary—but, trust me, it was/is absolutely genius . . . and breathtaking.

I had a moment in class during one of our discussions—one of those glorious moments when the clouds open up and, for a brief time, I could see how my educational experiences, tracing back into my high school days, were all working together! I was taken back to my Junior Year, sitting in Mrs. Russell’s AP English class at Kamiak High School in Mukilteo, WA. I recalled all the days I restlessly sat at my desk, listening to Mrs. Russell talk over my head about the metaphoric methodology in Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn or the role of the narrator’s voice in traditional American poetry. I remembered wanting so badly to understand the literary way in which Mrs. Russell was trying so desperately yet so gracefully to instruct me, and every once and a while I celebrated the little victories I had when an abstraction became concrete; however, more often than not I left her class defeated—convinced I would never learn to love literature as she so clearly did. Little did I know that a few years later I would declare myself a literature major, having learned to love the art for myself.

So, as I sat in my British Novel class, discussing To the Lighthouse and speaking in the very literary language that once blew right over my head, I found myself incredibly grateful for the rigor of my high school English course and the diligence of Mrs. Russell—who, arguably, was the first one to awaken a deep love for the literary arts and show me that there is much depth to be found in a simple classic book.

 - Anna Long

 

The once abandoned and rather dismal building that rests at the corner of University and Nursery, in recent weeks, has turned into the mecca for all matters concerning the appetite and social life with the entrance of . . . The Flop. Modeled after the famed creamery, Coldstone Icecream, The Flop has transferred the approach of Coldstone (with stuffings & toppings & fixings & fillings) to the lost art of pancakes! What began as a project for a group of AU students has turned into quite the hit on campus!

This past week, after re-opening for a special Wednesday night pancake serving, The Flop was literally packed with hundreds of hungry students looking for both a temporary distraction from their studies and a remedy to the midnight pangs of hunger. I, too, was among this hungry crowd. However, when I arrived at The Flop, much to my dismay and my pleasure, I saw that the line to get the famous pancakes (though they are, arguably, much too young in creation to be dubbed ‘famous’—regardless, that is the term I will use) was not only out the door—but also wrapped around the building. One of my roommates was faithfully waiting her turn in line, informing me that she had been in line for nearly an hour and was just then approaching the door to get inside the building. Outrageous—but brilliant! What a tease it was to get my mouth salivating at the thought of hot, buttery pancakes (with bananas and walnuts and warm maple syrup), only to find that the rest of the student body was craving the very same thing.

Unwilling to wait in line, but also unwilling to ignore my craving, we called an emergency pancake party at our apartment! We made up our own pancake batter from scratch and collected all the edible toppings we could find in our pantry and freezer—nuts, berries, bananas, chocolate chips, etc.—and called over all of our girlfriends! Soon after, about a dozen hungry girls showed up at our door with more toppings of their own, and, together, we cooked and created and laughed and satisfied that great pancake craving that only a place like The Flop could rouse.

 - Anna Long