Fine Arts

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Candice Smith Fine Arts Senior Thesis Project
(2011) Smith, Candice
Stories from Home
(2011) Yulo, Nic
It's A Joke, But Mom's Not Laughing
(2011) LeBouvier, Julia
Parting Words from a Record Player Sitting in the Sky
(2011) Reid, Brooke
Samantha Salazar Fine Arts Senior Thesis Project
(2011) Salazar, Samantha
Val Kirilova Fine Arts Senior Thesis Project
(2011) Kirilova, Val
Angela Wang Fine Arts Senior Thesis Project
(2011) Wang, Angela
The Faces Around the Bases
(2011) Galetta, Michael
Katharine Seto Fine Arts Senior Thesis Project
(2012) Seto, Katharine; Kim, Hee Sook
Art is like a person—organic, complex, and emotional. Art’s differences cannot be defined by intellectual labels that only loosely describe what a viewer sees or feels in a piece of art. Only the artist has a full understanding of how a piece came to be, from the inception to the fully finished product. Once it leaves the artist’s hands, all the labels and analysis may stretch its meaning far from its original intention. So here I am, trying to blur the lines between the labels—specifically between art and fashion. Where does the art end and the design begin? Do I need to plan from start to finish, or can I create through a series of spontaneous actions and unconscious decisions? Why is a person drawn to something, and how can I become part of the creation of that product? Part of my process with art is tossing aside any process. I feel that I need only time to create a product: given enough time, I will have something to show for it. I know what I want in the end: to define a brand that is uniquely me. Whether that involves creative license over an existing label, or creating my own, it does not matter. To manage that, however, I need to find my process; understanding fashion construction requires working with the materials over a long time. For the moment, let us define my art as fantastical and romantic—slightly altered and cropped versions of reality. My images are emotions and colors on canvas; they are nothing more, nothing less. Others may try to define them, force meaning upon them. For now, while they are in my hands, why define them?
Kelsey Power Fine Arts Senior Thesis Project
(2012) Power, Kelsey; Kim, Hee Sook
I recognize a certain irony in illustration as an art form because its existence and inspiration are predicated on the written word. Though I believe art points to beauty and must stand on its own, my work strives to analyze the nature of illustration. Illustration is a play between words and pictures— two art forms—that creates a harmony enhancing the experience of both. Through a visual dialect Art directs us to a re-evaluation of self, creating that ineffable sense of something, anything, everything lacking in the human experience. It reminds us that perfection is a possibility, but that it is not something that has yet been achieved. That ache is why I create art. Beauty shows us ourselves better than anything else. Beauty allows us acceptance. We accept that we will not experience perfection, but the aching and longing for it is worthwhile as well. I was inspired by my reading of Cornish ghost tales and my love of maritime history to tell a story that spoke of my experience as well as displayed it. I chose to allow my artwork to inhabit space outside the confines of a bound book and interact with the reader on a larger and broader scale. I wished to make the world of the story real. My art always strives to connect to the past, and thus utilizes traditional methods and materials to take the viewer into a physical space that invokes that atmosphere. By combining the experience of the reader and the viewer, illustration places both pictures and words in a context that allows for a stronger, more emotional interaction. The scale of my pieces transgresses on the space of the reader to allow them greater access and entrance into the story itself.
The Story of Frank
(2012) Appel, Jonathan G.; Goodrich, John
My short film “The Story of Frank” is an adaptation and alteration of a story that I wrote in the spring of 2010. I was a beginner in animation, so the production of this project was a process of constant learning, trial, and error. While viewing “Frank,” one can observe different stages of my adeptness at animation. I wrote the original story during a semester of study in Kathmandu. As an outsider in a new place, I had a lot of time to slow down, mull about, think, and look around. I think this is reflected in Frank’s introspections and mannerisms, which are full of a sense of wonder, and which may defamiliarize some of life’s simplest occurrences and sensuous experiences. The procedure that I used to create Frank is classified as “hand-drawn digital animation.” I drew every frame directly into the computer using a pressure sensitive tablet and its accompanying pen.
No Boundaries, No Airspace, No Visas
(2012) Tulsyan, Antara; Baenziger, Markus
When I work on my art I enter a place of retreat, a meditative zone blocking out everything else. My art is a reflection of my feelings and moods that I cannot express in any other way. When I look at my sculptures, the lines speak to me because of the emotions they depict, as in a journal. My sculptures’ elemental, organic shapes and lines and curves represent different feelings, but they complement each other to form a simple yet complex piece. Just as I transform these emotions into simple lines, I hope my work can generate unique responses in all who view it. I use shapes that are abstract but reflect some aspect of my feelings, including the frustration of getting them to look the way I want. The materials are based on how I want the piece to “feel,” and while I like bold colors I often use just a few to create contrast and differentiate between individual components. I start a sculpture based on my current frame of mind and then find a theme to work around it. Often times, the sculpture is shaped by the challenges and technical difficulties I face, but my moods inform its development. While making sketches to come up with an idea for this sculpture I found that they all had many different parts that could exist as sculptures on their own. This lead to an exploration of what it meant to have individuals that could join as one entity. I started out wanting to make an interactive mobile of many small birds, arranged in the shape of one large bird. I wanted the piece to have movement generated by the viewer to create a sense of playfulness. Observing flocks of flying birds to find an overall shape for my sculpture, I decided to incorporate a background to give the birds a sense of placement. After trying different backgrounds, I am now attempting to create a minimalistic environment with few details in order to focus on just the elemental forms and colors of our surroundings. I hope my future work will reflect the same simple lines and organic components within a variety of environments.
You Can't Spell Party without Art
(2012) Loewi, Peter A.; Baenziger, Markus; Kim, Hee Sook
“Wanna play carpenter? First we’ll get hammered and then I’ll nail you!” The first time I ever lied to somebody and told them I wanted to be an architect, I had just been caught skateboarding in a construction site. I had fallen and my board had gone out through the unfinished walls, so I went downstairs to get it, when there came an angry voice from behind me “What are you doing in my house?!” I panicked, and the first things out of my mouth just so happened to be “I’m very interested in architecture, and I wanted to see how a house was built.” The man was then very nice to me, gave me a tour of his soon to be house, and then told me to be careful because construction sites are dangerous places. While I no longer skateboard, nor really care how luxury houses are built, I do like the space that skateparks create. The performer, performance, and audience are all in the same place. The only other space I can think of that does that are city streets. I love cities. They can simultaneously be aesthetically pleasing, as I try and show in my prints, as well as places for collaboration or competition, like my sculpture “You Can’t Spell Party Without Art”.
My Participation
(2012) Sanchez, Christine; Williams, William
Graffiti, in its most common form—name tagging—has always been a part of my life. In middle school, my classmates always tagged things—desks, walls, backpacks, sneakers, and so on. They scribbled down their thoughts wherever they wanted. You could find anything on the walls of Abington Avenue School—cartoon characters, expletives, names, penises, jokes. It seemed nothing was off limits. When I was twelve, markers of all sorts were even banned in school, and anyone caught with them would be given detention. This is probably where my fascination with graffiti started. Ironically, I was mostly an observer of graffiti. Rebellion is simply not in my DNA. As a child, I liked to think of myself as a rebel—telling people off and doing as I pleased— but in reality, I was happy to do exactly what was expected of me: the right thing. It never crossed my mind to write something on the school walls, but I was somewhat envious of everyone who did. What was different about me that kept me from trying to do so? Instead, I feel compelled to record the graffiti other people have created. This selection of photographs shows some of the works that I crossed paths with while in Philadelphia. They are shot digitally and displayed in various size color prints. Some of the graffiti I chose to photograph is “traditional” graffiti, or spray painted, while some is on stickers. Most were taken head-on while I was walking, while a few were taken while I was on the train. I am interested in graffiti’s use of color as a method for attracting the eye, and often indulge in photographing these colors. The images are treated as portraits, because I like to think that what each person decides to ‘tag’ is a representation of him or herself. I like to think this is my way of finally participating—only once-removed. My lithographs reflect another side of my interest in graffiti. These prints combine portraits I have taken of children and images of graffiti. For me, there is both a harmonious incongruity and a deep logic in putting the images together.
What Do You Think About When I Ask You About the Future?
(2013) Schwartz, Shayna; Li, Ying
What do you think about when asked about your future? What worries you most about the future? What gives you hope about the future? Is there a part of your past that influences your future? Was there a particular moment in your life where you were very concerned about the future? Is there a moment you can recall in which you were very certain about what you would do? Three women from different backgrounds and ages are the subjects of What are you thinking, when I ask you about the future? Each woman was interviewed using the above questions as springboards for a larger discussion, and her answers were recorded. The resulting audio is distilled into a short video segment that combines portions of the interview with animation. What are you thinking, when I ask you about the future? prompts thought about what it means to consider the abstract concept of the future. When you watch this piece, reflect upon your own answers to these questions and how they relate to the answers depicted. I am inspired by the animated biography genre, including works such as A Room Nearby by Paul and Sandra Fierlinger (a twenty-seven minute film showing five people’s stories about loneliness, based on a series of interviews), and the project Animated Minds (a series of animations using interviews with patients suffering from mental health problems to depict their experiences) directed by Andy Glynne. Hand-drawn animation is a very powerful medium in depicting intangible ideas in biographical stories. Each frame is drawn by hand, giving the piece the individualistic mark of the artist that matches the individualistic nature of the stories. The piece is labor-intensive; one second of video is twelve frames or images (12fps). It explains emotion and thought through visual metaphor. My piece draws from and includes itself in the animated biography genre. Through the medium of animation, What are you thinking, when I ask you about the future? strives to illustrate the individual perspectives about a topic that concerns us.
Jordan Schilit Fine Arts Senior Thesis Project
(2013) Schilit, Jordan; Baenziger, Markus
To me, art is funky and random. To me, art is spiky. To me, art is both harsh and delicate. To me, art is a challenge to carry. To me, art doesn’t like sitting around—even if it’s resting on the floor. To me, art doesn’t represent figures or forms from our world. To me, art twists and turns and makes up its own mind as it goes. To me, art colors places that are dull. To me, art makes people happy. To me, art uses the same amount of energy as a morning run. To me, art forgets rules. To me, art is cool for both artists and non-artists. To me, art is confusing. To me, art works as a team. To me, art creates smiles. To me, art talks—but isn’t specific to language. To me, art recycles junk. To me, art makes something out of nothing. To me, art is vibrant and catches the eye. To me, art doesn’t care if it’s hated. To me, art doesn’t care if it’s loved either. To me, art has endless interpretations. To me, art lives. To me, art is free. To me, art does whatever the hell it wants to do.
Nacimiento de lo Subterraneo
(2013) Hernández, Vanessa; Kim, Hee Sook
The myth of the island Patmos of Greece (originally “Letois”, after Artemis, the daughter of Leto) is used as a metaphor in Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz’s Primero Sueño. According to the myth, Selene (the moon goddess), in one of Artemis’s visits, shone moonlight upon the island, found at the bottom of the sea. Through the aid of Apollo, Artemis was able to convince Zeus to shine the light of the sun upon the island and bring Patmos to the surface. The myth puts forth an image that meshes nicely with the theme of Sor Juana’s poem: the process of the awakening of the spirit, in this case through the attainment of knowledge. That idea led to what was to become the plot of the story: Nova, an arboresque female born from the roots of a tree, rises from the ground after moonlight casts upon her place of origin and she embarks on a journey of mental, emotional, and spiritual awakening, only to feel fully alive at sunrise. Let yourself be immersed in my world of trees, underworld creatures, and brief and sweet encounters.
Sarah Whitt Fine Arts Senior Thesis Project
(2013) Whitt, Sarah; Kim, Hee Sook
A conversation with a friend, which likened human yearning to moths drawn to light, inspired my curiosity. I learned moths use the moon to navigate flightlines; a closer light may prompt them to over correct, clustering around globes before spiraling in free-falls. As the moon guides moths through sky, it guides fish through sea. These creatures trust instinct. Both of their forms begin with skeleton, end in scales—intricately armored, yet vulnerable to interference from the human environment. The same scales that flake in fingers compose eyes, fur, tongues and glands—inspiring my object material. Grains of sugar bond in layers constructing my insects. While boiling sugar to a cracking point, I scratch a drawing through the hard ground that films a zinc plate. I drizzle and mold wings and antennae from cooled sugar-glass by hand. An acid bath nibbles my drawing into the zinc. Reheated sugar glues bodies together. I dust the zinc with rosin, bathe multiple times to achieve desired tones. I suspend the insects to swarm around the viewer. I ink and wipe the plates, roll many times with multiple colors, run once through the press. The prints document process. They are static specimens, fossils flattened and preserved. The moths are pinned in their prime beside fish who reveal basic form. In the meantime, the objects process. They move and react, melt and drip, crack and break.
Natasha Cohen-Carroll Fine Arts Senior Thesis Project
(2013) Cohen-Carroll, Natasha; Williams, William
When I was young, I loved playing with my grandmother’s elbow skin; I was fascinated by the way in stayed in place, its elasticity, and the beautiful purple and green color of her veins. Her arm became a place of exploration and discovery for me, though I kept returning to her watch. I would notice the way her watch matched her teeth, as the elegance of the enamel and metal played off of each other, and created correspondences beyond material and logic. In her skin, her wrinkles and creases, I would read the story these lines offered. Over the course of the year, I have started to read other stories through other lines in visiting and photographing residents of the Bryn Mawr Terrace retirement home. By learning the language of this new territory, I realized that the folds of their skin were indissociable from the folds of their memory, as the text of the recollections they shared with me coexisted with the text that their body presented. In my visits and conversations, memories seemed not to merely deal with the passage of time, but with the oscillation between presence and absence, between moments of clear and blurred vision. At times, the absence became literal: within the course of my stay, one of the residents died, one was hospitalized, but their felt presence still informed my exploration. These photographs are the trace of what I keep with me, even after the lines disappear.
Kerry FitzPatrick Fine Arts Senior Thesis Project
(2013) FitzPatrick, Kerry; Li, Ying
Using a language that has been heavily conditioned by the overwhelming visual stimuli characteristic of modern technology, I attempt to reinterpret iconography and mythology that has become somewhat trite and perhaps even irrelevant. These images have been appropriated to the point where they are readily recognizable yet banal enough to be easily overlooked in passing. In these paintings the symbols I re-imagine are distorted so that they lose some of this familiarity, but still may convey a sense of the uncanny—of something simultaneously comforting yet alienating. Where the different symbolic worlds overlap is where this uncertainty can be uncovered. The entanglement of these different images seems natural and harmless yet upon further reflection can become sinister and mysterious. It is my hope that the seemingly impenetrable meaninglessness of cliché can in this work be reevaluated to reveal something of the mysterious origins that gave rise to it in the first place.

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