This week's question goes to Vincent Corona-Evans (somethingwhimsical) the maker of those little BOB guys and a wonderful illustrator about his earliest art memories (he takes us deep into his psyche with this one) and this is what he had to say: "My earliest "art memory" is broken up into several glimpses and/or happenings that may or may not have occurred to me between the ages of four to seven. There is a perplexing phenomenon that happens inside my head when I think of such events that far back. I tend to blur and confuse factual moments that have actually happened with stories that were told to me about other people by other people. So although I believe the small list below to be events from my life, I must concede, reluctantly, that these may just be snippets of stories told to me.
#1 Art memory: (This memory is definitely mine.) Playing with pasta letters on a fold-up card table with newspaper on it. I remember thinking how cool the letters looked even though I couldn't read yet. I pretended to write words by putting them in long lines and then asking my mom to tell me what I spelled. This was my first tangible memory of my love of pretending. Pretending was my creative inspiration. I'd pretend I was on a planet, and I would draw it on paper and there it was. I remember having paper beside me almost every time my mind created some new adventure. I look back in old notebooks and I see layouts of houses and landscapes, and musicians with instruments and whole stage diagrams. Cars, boats, planes, spaceships, superhero costumes, you name it. Not a single one of those drawings didn't have a whole days worth of fantasy wrapped around it.
#2 Inspirational: I remember being made to draw on red construction paper and then being forced to cut the drawing out with crappy scissors. I don't know what this means, but I remember it like it was yesterday and I still feel frustrated by it. (This would make me laugh if in fact this wasn't my own memory.)
#3 Something like that: Seeing the Easter bunny in my back yard. I know, at first, this may seem derived from a WB cartoon and completely none "art" related, but this felt so real to me and has had such an impact on me it just has to be true. Several things stuck out about my encounter that day as well. First, this thing was man size. I mean huge and fat and tall. And not that fast. It hobbled out slow on its hind feet from the tall weeds growing behind our house. Then it stopped and noticed me and just stared. I was frozen with fear. That big round rabbit face just stared at me. Terrifying. I do remember even in my anxiety thinking this is strange. Not to mention, it was fall. I think. October or November. I ran back into the house to tell everyone what had happened and no one really responded at all or even looked down. I still believe I developed a stutter at that moment tugging on their pant legs.
So in wrapping up, these memories came the quickest and climbed the highest among fact and uncertain fact. Leaving me with an interesting self-examination. I still live in a world of make-believe regarding my work. I'm frustrated by tasks with crappy equipment, and to this day I need people to look at me when I talk. Oh yeah, and I don't even know if this is me I'm talking about. :) (love ya Vin!)
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