Friday, 20 February 2015
Memories in my skin
Friday February 20th 2015
For the first time, I was able to use many different technical steps such as brushes, different opacity levels, layers, dodging and burning, the magic brush tool, erasers, hue saturation, duplicating layers, and feathering.
Idea or Concept:
I knew that I wanted the Cuban man to be the main picture in my montage, because the story was mostly revolved around him. I also knew that I wanted a beach background because my story happened on the beach. I also wanted to use my own pictures from my trip so that some pictures were original and not just off the internet.
There was no artist that influenced me.
I used different techniques such as different opacity levels so that certain things would stand out more than others. I also made certain pictures different sizes so that everything didn’t look so perfect. To make sure that there was movement in my montage, I made sure that there were pictures that were rounder than others so that my eyes would float around the picture and not just stay in one spot. Also using different colours was very effective, because some things popped out more than others, which was important.
My motivation to do this artwork was more so the story behind the art. My story was very inspirational for me, and it had such a great impact on my life that I tried putting so much effort into it, and after writing the story, I was a lot more motivated to do it.
Wednesday, 11 February 2015
Man on the Beach
It was nothing but a typical day for our family, as it was only our fourth day in Cuba. We woke up quite early, got dressed, went for breakfast, and tried to get the best spots at the pool. The sun was rising, and we could feel the cool air quickly become warm. We’re going to have a great day, everyone said, so I agreed, but little did I know that what would happen on that fine day, would have such a big impact on my life, and most importantly, something that I would remember for a lifetime.
We left our room on the resort and slowly walked down to the beach, taking our time to explore our surroundings. Walking through the waves, stopping to pick up seashells, and family pictures along the way; we eventually ended up at an island to the side of the beach that looked adventurous. We hopped off the beach, and walked through the island, on a trail of rock that seemed to be deformed from a war many many years ago. We came across a young cuban man who wore a blue flannel shirt, ripped jeans, and nothing on his feet. He was fishing, and he had started a fire. As soon as we walked by, I noticed the big smile on his face as he said “hola, como estas”. With no knowledge in the spanish language, I could only reply with a simple hello, but thankfully, he understood. I watched him as he limped over, sat down, and started skinning his fish. He explained to us that he had to start work very soon and that he was simply just cooking his lunch. He began to tell me and my family that he got paid 1.00 per hour at the resort he worked at just up the road, and that he worked 12 hour shifts. He had a wife and two daughters, and he expressed that he worked so hard, but could not afford to buy things to support his family. He was so proud of how hard he worked, it was almost tear jerking. “It doesn’t matter what I get paid”, he said “I have a loving family, and they are proud of me, and what I do.”
What surprised me about this young man, was the fact that he was so grateful for what he had. He didn’t complain about the job he had to work at, nor did he complain about the fact that his family was poor. He seemed so happy to be alive, and that was really all that mattered to him. The fact that we was so grateful for what little he had, and that he didn’t ask for anything, made me realize how ungrateful I was for how much I had. My family and I headed back to our rooms, where we gathered things we didn’t need to bring back home with us. We packed a bag full of clothes, shoes and personal hygiene items. The next day, we walked back to the island where the man was, saw him in the exact spot as the day before, and handed him the bag. His face lit up, as happy tears ran down his face, he hugged us all, and thanked us times a million.
I could not even begin to explain the way my heart felt. Knowing that he would go home that day with new things for his family, made my heart melt. It was an amazing thing that me and my family had done, and it sure was something that would not only make a difference his life, but my life too, because I got to leave Cuba knowing that I had a friend in a different part of the world.