An Artists' Journey
June 1, 2021
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Art is an expression of the soul.
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These are stories about My Artist's Journey ......
These are some of the events that shaped me into the person and artist
I am today.
Please relax, take five minutes, and enjoy my story.
Some of life's stories are positive and some not so much.
Everything that happened to me shaped my life in some way.
As I write these stories, I'm realizing that this is a way to share
them with my family, and my friends.
I wish that my father and mother had shared more of their life's
stories before they died. You don't know what is lost until it's too
late.
Feel free to share your experiences with me.
As I try to remember these events, I realize that I need to separate
them into overlapping stories. So as I pen them you'll notice some of
the timelines will overlap, merge or be out of order. I hope I can make
sense of the events.
These next stories will cover the middle third
of my life and my journey.
KCAI Vanderslice Building
Kansas City Art Institute
Hard Times And Dreams Of A Future
My Sophomore & Junior Years were my Dark Years
I was out of sync at the Art Institute. I started my sophomore year as
a second-semester freshman. I was the new student and everyone else had
settled in.
Many of my engineering credit hours from the University of Missouri -
Rolla did not fit in the Art Institute's curriculum. I needed to make
up a whole semester's worth of credits in the next three summers in
order to graduate on schedule. To catch up, I attended summer school
every summer. The summer after Rolla, I attended Florissant Valley
Community College. I didn't mind as I found classes challenging and
fun. I earned an 'A' in class. I enrolled in the basic academic classes
I'd need for my BFA. I always chose early morning classes as then I
could work the rest of the day trying to earn next semester's needed
funds.
Between Rolla and my first year at KCAI I lived with my mother and my
four siblings in their two-bedroom apartment. I slept on the sofa.
Every day I got up early went to school then on to work. I worked as
many hours as I could. I was hardly ever at home. When I was home, I'd
talk with my mother and would try to help her through those hard times.
Sometimes I'd visit my father and talk with him. It was hard going
between the two of them. On payday, I'd give 10% of whatever I made to
my mother to help her out, the rest I saved for school costs.
When I arrived at KCAI in the fall, I was expecting to start as a
sophomore, the school had other ideas, they decided that I needed to be
'introduced' to the ways and methods of their school. I started as a
second-semester freshman. I was the only one.
Their freshman program was called 'Foundations". Normally it was two
semesters long. The program gave each incoming freshman student a
sample of most of the different departments so that the student could
have a better idea as to what to major in. Starting late, I got just
one semester of Foundations. I had a lot of catching up to do.
In my first semester, I was able to visit most departments for about a
week or so. It was supposed to be a chance to sample what was offered
in each discipline.
The week I spent visiting the Design Department was confusing. I was
ignored. I never even met an instructor and the students there acted as
though I was a visitor. I was ignored.
The situation was repeated in the Sculptor, Ceramics, and several other
departments. The instructors and students in those departments were all
busy doing their own thing.
It was a little better in the Photography Department. The photography
department's instructor threw me in with the rest of his classes, and
just expected me to catch up. I was a semester behind. I only recall a
few lectures. Several students took me under their wing and helped me.
It was OK. I learned a lot about photography in a hurry. I actually
learned how to take good pictures, learned how to process black and
white film, and print my own pictures in the darkroom. What I learned,
stuck. I still use what I learned back then, today.
I felt comfortable in the Woodworking Department. I learned a lot under
the tutelage of instructor John Kraighauser. He was a very good
teacher. He constantly would pass on many small but meaningful bits of
information that he discovered through his years of working in wood.
I've never hurt myself working with power tools. Over the years, I've
used my woodworking skills more than anything else I've ever learned. I
enjoy building things.
I loved drawing classes, printmaking, and painting. I had a chance to
get to know most of the instructors and some students. I spent most of
my time at the Art Institute in these classes.
It seems funny that I spent three years there and I can only recall a
few instructor's names.
I decided to major in painting with a second emphasis on printmaking.
I studied printmaking under the chairman of the printmaking department,
Bill McKim. Bill was a character. He always had a cigarette in one
hand, ashes constantly would fall on everything around him. He smelled
like an ashtray. However, he knew his stuff. I liked him. Whenever I
had an issue with one of my stone lithographs, he'd immediately knew
how to fix it. I learned to love and appreciate the process of making
original prints. One late evening while working on a lithographic
stone, Bill stopped by to see my progress. In our conversation I
discovered that he was a friend of Thomas Hart Benton. I loved Benton's
work. Bill offered to introduce me to Mr. Benton. Bill set up the
meeting for late January. Unfortunately, Tom Benton died a few days
before our meeting. Missing the opportunity of meeting with Thomas Hart
Benton is one of the saddest events of my life.
I've always found it gratifying to work with my hands. I guess the
proof is in the results. I worked hard on my printmaking and drawing
skills and I constantly improved. By my senior year, two of my original
stone lithographs were selected to be included in the Senior Student
Traveling Art Show. The selected works were sent around the nation to
all the participating Union of Independent Art Schools. It was a great
honor. I was in outstanding company. Sadly, in the end, those prints
were never returned to me. I've always wondered what happened to them.
As a painting major, I was selected by Wilbur Neiwald, the chairman of
the painting department, to study under him. I studied oil painting and
drawing. I have fond memories of him. Wilbur loved, admired, and
painted like Cezanne. It took me a while to shed his influence. In his
classes, I drew many figure studies, painted lots of geraniums,
landscapes, and self-portraits. Wilbur had a funny habit of 'fixing'
his students' paintings. He'd rotate around the class stopping at each
student's easel. He'd sit down, study the sill-life, ask for a 'nice
round brush', and repaint, and reposition everything in the painting.
As expected, students would let out a gasp as Wilbur would completely
demolish their weeks' work. My hard work was not exempted. I guess
Wilbur forgot that live plants continually move toward the light as the
day goes on. We'd start painting in the morning, he'd come to review
our work in the afternoon. The live still-life had moved.
My sophomore and junior years were basically a repeat. I'd get up early
every morning and clean and empty trash cans in the painting department
building. It was hard, dirty work. The cans were heavy and always
filled with oily, wet used oil paints, unwanted still-life materials,
and all sorts of stuff.
I'd go to life drawing class every day from 8:30 till noon. I'd dash
home for some sort of lunch then return to either my painting studio or
my printmaking studio. I'd work till dark when the light faded. I'd
head home and find something to eat then read a little before falling
asleep. These were lean times, rent was relatively expensive and I had
little money left for food. I weighed between 145 - 150 pounds.
I worked weekends at the gas station for about $1 per hour. I'd head
there right after my final class on Friday and work as many hours as I
could over the weekend. I'd work a double shift, drive home, go to
sleep and repeat until late Sunday. Sunday evening I'd fall exhausted
into bed, get some rest and start over again on Monday morning. It was
always the same. I had no time or money for a social life.
I stayed in KC the following two summers. I rented a small room in the
upper level of an old lady's house to save money. I was fed up trying
to find a reliable roommate. It was a long walk to the campus.
I took early morning summer classes the next two summers at Penn Valley
Community College just as I did in St Louis. I enjoyed those classes
and earned "A's" there too. I worked every shift that I could. Living
was expensive and my old car kept breaking down.
Near the end of each of those two summers, I'd beg for a few days off
from work so that I could go home to St Louis. I was very lonely and I
missed my family. I'd scrape up gas money and force that old car across
the state back to St Louis. Just seeing my family for two or three days
reenergized me. We'd catch up and re-connect. I'd always feel a bit
depressed driving back to KC. I knew the next year would not be any
better it would be hard. I missed my family and I was lonely.
These were my "Dark Years".
I think my next story might be about my old car. It was a rolling
disaster.
Another story would be about my landlady. Renting a room from her was
interesting.
That's all till next week.
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As I mentioned my first year in college was
the best of times and the worst of times.
Below is a shortlist of stories from that year I might tell over the
next few weeks:
1. My freshman year, my military draft lottery number was "7". That
stressed me a bit.
2. My father moved out of our house and left my family. I had a real
conflict about staying in school or going home to help support my
mother and siblings.
3. Getting hijacked by the local police in Salem, Missouri.
4. First time home for the weekend.
5. Greek Week activities.
6. Pledge week escape trip to Southwest Missouri State College.
7. The fates introduced me to a wonderful young lady, our tender
relationship grew, and sadly how it ended.
8. From academic probation to Deans' Honor Roll.
9. Applying to art schools.
10. Final Fraternity Days At UMR
11. Back at home in St Louis for the summer
12 My plan for the summer
13. Heading off to the Kansas City Art Institute.
14. Home after 1st semester
15. Second Semester at KCAI
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I'm enjoying sharing ... my artwork, my teaching, and stories with all
of you via my newsletters. I'm also posting more on Facebook,
Pinterest, and Instagram!
I hope that during this pandemic we all are learning things about
ourselves in order to reshape our lives. This is the time to make sure
that we redesign our lives to appreciate each moment we have. I've been
inspired by so many people who have put the well-being of others ahead
of themselves. I realize that life is all too short and fragile.
Perhaps we all should be grateful for this time. We should use what's
left of it wisely. I encourage you to make your list of what you need
to get done (there will never be a better time), projects that you've
been meaning to finish, ways to enrich your lives, and new things you
want to do to learn and help you grow.
I'm creating paintings I've always wanted to do. I'm listening more and
talking less.
Classes & Workshops make memorable and lasting gifts!
Shanika Studio
www.ShanikaFineArts.com
1316 Spruce Ridge Lane
Woodland Park, Colorado
Copyright 2021
All rights reserved
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