Slanted Rays

In my past two blog posts, I have explored the connections between creativity and failure. In the first blog post , we examined how creative failures can contribute to creative successes. In the second , I used my own experience during COVID-19 to discuss how systemic failure can impact creativity. Throughout my writing of this series, I have been thinking about how I view my own work. My written work begins in elementary school and continues to today. Many of the words that I have written are captured in a series of journals that lives in my closet. These journals could be perceived as artistic failures, but they are personal successes; within their pages, I found a way to express my emotions without causing harm to myself or others. Yes, the writing is cloying, imperfect, and amateurish, but the goal of personal expression is not perfection. My academic writing has improved steadily, and, in terms of written quality, includes many successes. However, many of my essays come from an at

On March 1, unaware of how much my life was about to change, I bought a watercolor set, a sketchbook, and brushes from Walmart. The signs of the apocalypse were ever-present; toilet paper and tissues were nearly sold out, and many customers were stocking up on dry goods. But, back in the art, crafts, and toys section, there were no signs that a pandemic was about to encroach on our freedom of movement. Children ran around and played. Not a single art supply was out of stock. At first, my art creation was barely affected by COVID-19. We were in the before times then. I wasn't entirely unconcerned about the virus, but I had more immediate concerns to worry about. I was a stage manager/co-director for Soka's upcoming musical, a Performing Arts Center employee, and a busy senior working on Capstone. I shoved time for creativity into the gaps between rehearsal, sleep, and class. My life was full of worry. And then, everything escalated.  On Tuesday, March 10, we found out that class

I am backstage at my job as a stage technician. Tonight's performance is an opera showcase. Opera is an infinitely elaborate art, even for a smaller showcase like this one. Performers wear intricate costumes and sing to large audiences without the aid of a microphone. Meanwhile, a screen above their heads displays the English translation of the songs they are singing. The songs themselves require a high degree of technical perfection. When someone is operatically trained, you should expect precision, volume, and evocative singing. Personally, I love opera. I enjoy the campiness of musical theater, but I struggle to appreciate the cloying sound of ever so many musical theater songs. Opera takes the gaudiness and fanfare of a musical and combines it with the beauty of classical music. For me, this show was a rare opportunity to enjoy opera music live. My job was to escort opera performers to their entrances, an unglamorous task that still made me feel like a valuable contribu