inside scoops to my education this semester

This semester I am taking four classes and all of them are photography based. There are absolute pros and cons to this: I get to focus on my favorite subject across the board, but it also involves me being on my creative game constantly and producing excellent work four projects at a time. It has been a challenge, but the challenge is making me a stronger artist - at least I feel like it is. : ) 

I start to the week off with Color Photography taught by D. Jones. Honestly - I wish this class was stronger. The curriculum is there, the ideas are fun, the assigned reading is interesting and helpful, but the teacher cannot teach. She is a nice lady (once you get passed the fake high pitched enthusiastic voice and yoga-bun-spice girl's mom haircut) but she cannot teach. There is that stupid quote that goes along the lines of "those who can't, teach." Well I am here to testify that teaching is a very hard position and not everyone can do it. Take Miss Jones for example. She is an established photographer, clearly knows how to work a camera, gets paid to do some weddings, (i may disagree with her stylistic choices, but that's an opinion,) but goodness gracious that woman cannot teach photography for the life of her. Most of what I have taken from this class as been me spending hours trying to decipher what she was showing us in class and accidentally stumbling on some other technique. It's sad because I think color photography is very important and very interesting, but I am not getting what I need to from that class. I am learning more color theory from my other teachers as I go to them for help and advice about this class. Oh well. Because I do not know what I am doing in this class, it has led me to experiment and explore my tools (my camera & photoshop.) Look at me, trying to turn a negative into a positive, again. Goodness Audrey - stop being so optimistic. : ) Heehee. (D. Jone's photography: http://www.photosdiannejones.com) 

this was a play with white balance and setting your own custom.
*it happened on accident - the learning part came after  

this was the most recent assignment: developing a concept map.
yes, this is something you have been doing since you were little with bubble charts.
it is for an upcoming shoot for my midterm project. i am really excited for this shoot so i put i little extra time into the map than i think most people are going to.
oh well. : ) i like it. 

Tuesday, which is my favorite day of the week in general, holds the spot of not only my favorite class but my favorite professor. A little white bearded biology major named D. Wasserman teaches Concept & Design. This class is a work out. Photographically it is pretty easy, no fancy technical work (unless you want to count the endless photoshop youtube tutorials I have had to watch to figure out of to remove subjects from backgrounds in three simple steps without crying,) but the key to this class is creative, simple, ideas that get your point across instantly. Oh dear. I have never stressed so much about what idea or emotion i can provoke with one object and one photograph. I freak out, call my parents and beg them to give me the answers, text my sister pointless ideas until she says she likes one, and spend too much time googling the words "apple" and "matches." I have gone on day long journeys to find a same-sex wedding cake topper (not as easy as it may seem here in the good ol' SF.) I have printed and reprinted until they kicked me out of the lab at 11:00 pm. BUT the weird thing is after all this work, I go to class excited and I love how it turns out. I actually have confidence in my pieces and that is an excellent feeling. It also helps that my teacher adores me (in a student teacher appropriate way of course.) He is very critical and honest. I love the way he writes on my pictures and pin points the exact points that you went wrong AND THEN TELLS YOU HOW TO DO BETTER. He is engaging, to the point, and funny. Also, he has good taste in music and I have recently turned him into a Trampled By Turtles fan. I love his class and never want it to end. (For some reason I cannot find his website, but here he is: http://www.cactitransects.com/index.php#mi=1&pt=0&pi=2&s=0&p=0&a=0&at=0) 

The following are images from the project from hell. The assignment was to take three objects and following the formulas: A + B, B + C, and A+B+C come up with something conceptually different using on those three objects. I over though this assignment like none other. In fact, I had this elaborate complicated idea completely finished and ready to turn in, but I hated it. My heart wasn't in it, so at 9:00 the night the before it was due I changed my direction. Lucky for me, it was one of best in the class. (I don't want to boast and say it was the best incase my classmates read this - i am still trying to make friends. heehee.) 

object: B

object: C

object: A

B + C = segmentation

A + C = imprisonment

A + B + C = "hardcore" 

M. Sims has gages and tattoos. He may be only five foot seven and sometimes I think he is wearing a bit of eye liner. Somedays I think he is straight. Somedays I think he is gay. This is my wednesday morning Photoshop Level Two class professor. Last year my photoshop class was long, a bit boring, and tedious. I walked out of that class only knowing three fourths of what I was supposed to know and only knowing the basics of those three fourths. This semester it is fast paced, but Sim's is thorough. We learn four or five tools a class and for some reason I walk out confident in all of them. He has a style of making sure we grasp everything in depth and with multiple examples. Its crazy! My love/hate photoshop relationship is mostly made of love this semester. It has made me excited to try out some ideas and shoots. Last class we learned the "liquify" tool. This is the tool that makes your boobs bigger and your stomach smaller. But the first thing we did in class was learn how to make you look like an alien with huge bug eyes, teeny lips, and no nose. Mine kind of looked like Voldemort (GG be proud!) Our assignments are both technical and creative and we get to work on our own images. This is something we didn't get to do until the final last year. I find it helpful because I am actually utilizing the tools in my own work and therefor are more interesting in learning them. Why make someone else's picture look good when you can do it to your own? (he is so cool: http://www.flickr.com/photos/michaelhughsims/) 

here are some image composites and portrait retouching i have done for class: 

sutro baths: before

sutro baths: after

miranda: before

miranda: after

My last class is People Photography. I hate to use the word stalking, but ultimately that is what I love to do. For anyone who has seen my instagram, I am completely fascinated with people. I take street photography seriously and this class utilizes this obsession of mine and directs it into actually thinking about what I am shooting and why. I used to look at street photography as just capturing the instant. It is something that is here one moment and gone the next. This class takes that element and expects me to compose it correctly in seconds. I am not only taking pictures on the street, I am taking photographs of the city around me. See what i did there? My teacher has a thick New York accent and every time M. Hirst says my name I cannot help but laugh a little because it sounds more like Ohdray than anything. He is like your favorite grandfather. He has been around for a while, knows what he is talking about, likes Jack Daniels, loves his children but thinks they are crazy, and goes off on tangents about random things but somehow always ends the run on sentence with a life lesson. This class is pure critique so it is a bit long (going through everyone's photographs can put a cramp in your legs and your bum falls asleep,) but it is always an entertainment. (he is old fashioned - he doesn't seem to exist on the internet.) 

"creative use of street light"

"unique angle"

So there it is. My classes in a nutshell. I have already signed up for spring semester - i know right, don't let me even breathe. I am also considering taking a few graphic design and film classes in the future. I have become very interested in producing work that included some design and film but do not know where to even began. That is the problem with an art school - i want to try it all! 

Have a lovely week my friends. : ) 

xoxo 

My computer has been replaced by a fancy new MacBook Pro and I am still obsessed with Instagram.

I woke up this morning grumpy and my bangs in every direction. It was the kind of morning that I should of washed my hair, but didn't. It was the kind of morning where I didn't realize my bra strap was broken until I was running to catch the train (aka MUNI for you bay life readers) into the city and the bra almost ended up at my ankles. It was the kind of morning that the little crosswalk sign decided to skip the counting and go straight from white walking man to green light for traffic speeding my way. It was the kind of morning that they were out of pumpkin spice syrup for the seasonal Pumpkin Spice Latte at Starbucks but refills would be here "in thirty minutes" when I had class in twelve. It was the kind of morning that Alanis Morissette would write a song about while using the wrong definition of ironic multiple times. Luckily for me, mornings only last until noon. 

It has been a while, but like I always say, it is good to be back and I don't know why I leave so much time in between writing. 

The last time I posted was in the hazy Utah summer talking about my love for rooftops and the men that joined me upon them. Incase you didn't know, since then I have moved back to San Francisco, continuing my education in photography at the Academy of Art University. I now live in a studio apartment by the beach and am newly employed. My computer has been replaced by a fancy MacBook Pro and I am still obsessed with Instagram. (@audreyrotermund)

Do you feel caught up? I didn't think so. That is why I have devised this devilish plan. I am going to take the next few days to completely update you on my life going from new house, school, boys, employment, and anything in between. I could make it into one large post, but as I sit here and consider readers like my hard working Mother, who do not have time to read novels, I have come to the conclusion that smaller ones would be easier and better for everyone (including myself.) Consider them like chapters. It makes it easier to take a snack break in-between and it always leaves you wanting more. Also, I know those who receive these posts as emails would much rather see my name in their inbox more than once! (right Tommie?) 

Coming up next: How to find an Apartment in SF in Five Months and Seven Days 

xo 

to trouble your mind with the childish design of how it all should go.

            This semester has honestly kicked my ass. Pardon my blunt language (sorry Grandmother,) but I honestly have not been able to see a light at the end of the tunnel until now. I sit here, the Sunday night before finals week, completely exhausted and proud of myself. I have worked hard and I think it finally shows off in my projects and photographs. Finals in art school are different than what my friends in the state universities suffered through. See, I do not need a textbook or notes to study. It does not all come down to one written final exam or a five paged report reflecting my knowledge from the course subjects. I have one assignment that is large enough to bring my grade from an A to an F by something simple as bad exposure. I have four bodies of work that reflect everything I am as an artist. Sometimes I think I would rather take the bookwork, but then I remember that I love what I do. My finals are painful, but they are completely worth it because through the blood, sweat, and tears, I am smiling.

            In Photoshop my final was to take eight different photographs and completely “fix” them. This means spotting and repairs, taking out tourists, replacing skies, coloring trees and mountains, turning roads into rivers, and ultimately creating a new image. I did most of mine from my time spent in Italy. One, because I am constantly feeling the need to go back, and secondly they needed a lot of work.

Firenze School Days, Before 

Firenze School Days, After

            For my Composition for the Artist class I wrote an art review about Cristobal Hara’s photograph: N1 Alava, Province Spain, 1995. It was nice to focus in on one particular piece and dissect the hell out of it. It also improved my own photographs because now I look at each one and decide what it all means and what will my audience get from it. The following is an excerpt from my essay titled:  “Blood Red and Slightly Tainted.”

            Death is unavoidably attractive. It sparks curiosity, heightens all five senses, and pulls unforgivable emotions forward. N1 Alava, Province Spain, 1995, by Cristobal Hara, is a “highly evocative” (Howarth & McLaren, 77) photograph of the minutes following a fatal car accident. The centered vehicle, flipped over, horizontally frames the death of a young man trapped inside, while a woman reacts only feet away from her bloody passenger seat. The choice whether or not to help or click the shutter as a spectator is a tantalizing decision for a photographer. Does one capture for documentation/art and risk a life or future negative repercussions or do you let the perfect shot slide out of frame because it is the “ethical” choice to make? It is unclear whether or not Cristobal Hara approached the victims of the accident before or after taking the photograph, but his choice to capture the moment as a quiet observer approaching the scene sealed the emotional impact of the tragic event in a subdued manner. Hara’s use of subject matter, perspective, and color, generates an overwhelming sense of loss and a respectful gesture of privacy.

N1 Alava, Province Spain 1995 by Cristobal Hara

            Visualization brought the most creativity. With an open concept requirement I developed “Paper Faces.” While studying, living, and thriving, in Firenze, I learned the importance of body language through the Italians boisterous hand movements and my desperate need to communicate with a foreign tongue I only knew vaguely. It was during this time that I developed a fascination with the human body and human interactions. I became obsessed with observing people; loosing time in coffee shops to watching the customers come and go, taking note on how they stir their coffees or the detail in their wrinkled hands, and writing on sticky notes about how the boy next to me had an eyebrow that resembled that of shower curtain rod because of the ten plus ringed piercings that lined it.
            What I have learned is that facial expressions are the ultimate form of non- verbal communication as well as one of the most evident descriptions of our personalities. Whether it the natural part in your lips or the squint of your eyes when giggling, your face articulates emotions. So what happens if we remove all of that? Then what does your face say about you? Ultimately, that is the answer I searched for with the creation of “Paper Faces.”

            After sending out mass messages on various social media networks, calling all friends/enemies/met you oncer’s, and pulling random people out of the hallway, I ended up with twenty four individuals willing to model.             Over two days, the only light source being a large soft box, I photographed each person as if I was shooting a mug shot: please face me; now please turn for a profile. I did not ask them to do anything particular, wear anything special, or even brush their hair. I merely sang, “Come As You Are” by Nirvana.

            I edited each image to black and white, printed them, and played a game of matchmaker putting together his profile with her forward, her forward with her forward, his profile facing away from his profile, and so on, until I came up with a match for everyone and as many different combinations as possible. Taking the twenty-four couples, I narrowed it down to the best thirteen, in which I removed the face from each individual using an Exacto knife, a handful of patients, and a few Peanut M&M’s.

            The final step was to find a collection of different pieces of text (from magazines, books, newspapers, etc.) and pair it up with the coupled pairs, replacing their face with the words of someone else, and as an end result giving them a new personality. I took SF Weekly & the Guardian on Wednesday; thrift store shopped on Polk Street Thursday afternoon, and begged my friends to give me their old novels on Friday.

            I ripped pages, cut sides, and pasted carefully each text behind an anonymous headshot. The text, to me, was to replace one way of communication with another. After removing the face, the only way to know who these people are and what they are like is by their clothing, posture, and what the text tells us to think. Today most of society’s communication is done through emails, phone messages, letters, and so on. Have we lost our personalities because we no longer need face-to-face responses to communicate ideas? “Paper Faces” address the importance of facial features and expressions while highlighting the dangerous media repercussions our society faces with a growing number in advancing technology.

            *The final has yet to be re-photographed and made digital.

headshot sorting. 

removal of the faces.  

matchmaking. 

            Quality of light was my technical class of the semester. For every artistic choice you wanted to create, there was a rhyme, reason, and three strobe lights to do it. It was this class that I spent long nights and never ending days in the studio. I cannot complain, but I missed a lot of sunlight and fresh air because of the class – I can tell you that honestly and my skin is pale enough to stand as an example. For my final I was asked to create twelve studio portraits with at least eight different lighting styles. There had to be a simple concept to flow it together so I chose “black and white.” Although this one was not as much thought, it was a lot of work. I have to thank everyone who put in time to help me out. Thank you to my models (those of you I know and those of you I met briefly.) Alicea and Jasmine were my go to girls the entire semester. And most importantly Alex and Nic – without whom I would of probably knocked myself out with a boom or set the seamless on fire.

Tom Baboin, No Contrast Lighting

Alexander McNally, Rembrant & Backlight (Jesus LIghting) 

            The end of this semester doesn’t just mark the end of my full year at the Academy, but also the end of my time staying at the dorms (praise Jesus.) I have been incredibly lucky. My room was perfectly sized and had a lovely view down on the busy Sutter Street. I had two (& a half - Love you Phoebe) charming roommates. I couldn’t of asked for a better group of girls to start my adventure here with. We laughed way too much in room 501 and I will miss that. But goodness, I will not miss sharing my bathroom with thirty girls who don’t know how to dye their hair without dying the wall. Showering without flip-flops? I forgot what that was like. Let’s not even talk about the kitchen and worse – the café food. BUT overall, I am thankful for this learning experience and memories made at old Howard Brodie.

Kayleigh, trying to pack herself up on a Tuesday night.  

            Going home to Salt Lake City will be a heat wave. Not only is the temperature already twenty degrees hotter than it is here, but also I will be working as a breakfast waitress again at The Market Street Grill Downtown (so come and visit.) I will also be taking two online classes and hopefully receive an internship/volunteer opportunity through SLC Photo Collective. Then of course the minutes in between all of that I will be playing hard with my family, closing Coffee Garden with countless conversations, and dancing hard at the Twilight Concerts. See you there?

Fog from Caleb & Shawn on Vimeo.

This is a little video I stumbled upon. Not only is it breathtaking to watch, but the song ("Gracious" by Ben Howard) is my recent addiction. (Also, the lyrics are the title of this post.)  Enjoy. 

http://vimeo.com/57878898 

Have a wonderful week & wish me luck. Ciao, Ciao.

looking like photographer without a camera

              In February 2011, I was hired by Deer Valley Mountain Resort to be the official photographer for the World Championships of Freestyle Skiing. This is next biggest event to the Olympic Games and this was the break in my career as a photographer. Eagerly I went out and bought the perfect (and sexiest) pair of plain black cargo ski pants I could find in the sale section of Skier’s World down on Main Street. Without trying them on, I took them home and packed them in my suitcase.

            On the first day of training, out in the middle of the ski course, with knee-highs made of snow, flakes of powder on my long black eye lashes, and the sun rising elegantly in the background, I took position to capture my first shot. As I clicked the shutter release, Anton Kushnirin in the frame nailing a double full-full off the fourth kicker, the crowd screaming wildly in excitement, all I heard was “rrrrrriiippppp.” The entire crotch and left leg of my new pants were ripped open at the seam; the white insulation now visible as the cold air entered my once warm body. My support team immediately tried to comfort me: “it is fine,” “you cannot even notice,” “that would of happen to anyone.” But I knew if I had taken the necessary precautions to choosing my outfit, my confidence would of still been in gold medal standings and my pants would not have been torn open like a bear attack upon raw flesh.

            Civilized members of our society strongly believe that a photographer does not have to worry about their outfit, because it is all about what they create with their hands and the expensive equipment they pretend to know how to use. Yet, here I am, taking the time to tell you that anyone can be a photographer, but the one who is going to be the most successful is the one who can feel confident and look like they know what they are doing while shooting – no matter what kind of lens or camera company is in their hand.  To become a professional photographer one’s wardrobe must reflect the utmost professionalism. You can achieve this by paying attention to color, the target market, comfort, accessories, and facial expressions. 

            Before you can start anything, you need to decide on a color pallet. Although an artist’s brain is spray painted with sea green blues, splattered with sunshine yellow, kissed with hues of purples, and melted with baby nose pinks; their wardrobe should be the complete opposite. I am talking deep charcoal black, highlighted with tones of grey, and shaded with even more black. Choosing a darker, mild toned, pallet will keep you sophisticated and classy. Also, it will keep you hidden. As a photographer you want to blend in, in order to capture a candid moment. You cannot really get that sneaky shot if you are standing in the middle of a crowd wearing a neon striped clown suit now can you? See I used to be naive like you, wandering into the public setting of the Utah State Fair looking like a walking rainbow. I did not understand why the only photographs I was getting were of old men scowling, their noses turned higher than a pug’s, and the bearded woman winking at me. Not really million dollar shots if you ask me.

            If you are having trouble deciding whether black or grey is good for you, I suggest heading over to your local paint shop. Pick out a few of Martha Stewart’s paint swabs, go home, and spend as much time as you may need holding the different pieces of dyed card stock to your face. Place it right under your left eye and watch your irises glow. Put the corner of the card next to that awkward cowlick in your hair and see those natural highlights gleam. Patients are key. When out on a shoot the color pallet of your outfit is important in order to keep your identity to “fly on the wall” (Cyrus, Miley. Fly on the Wall. Hollywood, 2008. MP3.) status while still looking your best.

            Next, decide what outfit best matches your target market. Your target market is your employer. He is the one who will hand you the big bills. Or the one who gives you free access to the bar once you’re done shooting Grandma on the dance floor at Uncle Joe’s third marriage reception. The target market is the boss. For example, if you are shooting a wedding, you will want to dress like you are going to a wedding. In this situation the boss is most likely the Bride. This is not the event to show up in your acid wash jeans with the matching black fur coat (Sisters, Scissor. Filthy/Gorgeous. Polydor Records, 2005. MP3) and thick Seattle punk eyeliner, when the Bride is clearly going for “cowboy country chic” (Style Me Pretty Wedding Design. 2011, March.). Dress simple, yet elegant. Women, put on a little black dress and a small strand of pearls. Men, tuck in your collared shirt and get out the bow ties. If your outfit matches your target audience you could walk home with a huge tip in your back pocket (and maybe even the seven digits of the second groomsmen from the Italian side of the family.)   

            Choosing the correct outfit is only half the battle. Before heading out to show the world your mad camera skills, one must make sure their outfit is both comfortable, and squat proof.  In other words, can you sit, stand, walk, slide, boot, scoot, and boogie (Brooks & Dunn. Boot, Scootin’ Boogie. Arista Nashville, 1992. MP3.) in it? You may feel like a fool, but one must test all possibilities of movement in the chosen outfit before calling it golden. Let’s say you are shooting a concert. Not just any old concert; you are shooting a punk-pop-rap trio concert. It is located in some dingy garage with nothing but red and orange twinkling bulbs to light up the cement room. It is an all ages show, meaning: there will be a lot of underage drinkers who can’t hold their liquor, guys in cut up “vintage” band tee’s with eyebrows covered in piercings so much that it almost resemble a shower curtain rod, and girls with red lipstick on their teeth. You have to make sure your outfit can handle that, so test it out. Stand in your garage with the lights off and a flashlight in your hand. Put lipstick on your teeth. Rip your shirt. Get your little brother to rap to a Lil Wayne song, without looking at the lyrics, while he bumps into you with a red SOLO cup of PBR. If you are comfortable after three hours of this, your outfit is ready for the next step.

            Let’s recap: you have your pallet, your outfit, and your squat/comfort tests all done. Next, it is all about the accessories. The minute you read accessories, three fourths of the men rolled their eyes and prepared to skip this paragraph. I am here to inform you that accessories are not just pearls and rings my friends. Most importantly it is all about what goes on your head and what covers your feet. Let’s start with your noggin. You want those long lovely locks out of your face. As a photographer, you use your eyes quite a lot and staring into a viewfinder with a piece of natural red bangs down the middle is not going to support your process. Pin it back. Men, get a hat that does not affect the camera to forehead ratio. Or maybe even try a little gel, you know, “get [slicky] with it” (Smith, Will. Get Jiggy With It. Sony, 1997. MP3). Women, a dainty headband or some decent bobby pins should do the trick. Remember, you are trying to work the camera, not “whip your hair back and forth” (Smith, Willow. Whip My Hair. Columbia/Roc Nation, 2010. MP3.) to get free booze. I once saw a guy photographing his friend doing a push shove-it onto the bank at my local skate park. He was flipping his “Justin Bieber bowl cut” (“Justin Bieber Hair.” Style Bistro. 2010, December 9. Kepin, Jason) to the left so much that it made me dial 911. The operator leaped into action after I stated that there was an emergency and to call an ambulance, because “a boy at the South Jordan Peace Gardens was having a seizure.” This false accusation did not end well for either of us. Moral of the story, pin it back or people will think you have a medical condition.

            We took care of your head, now we need to ponder the serious issue of your shoes. This relates back to dressing for your market audience and comfort. Choose shoes that match the part, yet you can stay in them for long periods of time while waltzing back and forth, and side to side, while getting those delicious shots. This is also your chance to get a bit wild. Because your basic pallet is neutral, you can play a bit of color into your outfit through your choice of shoes. Throw on some red flats, brown Doc Martin boots, or even blue Vans, to give the lookers a piece of your artistically developed personality. Do not wear brand-new shoes to a shoot. Breaking them in by standing for six or more hours will leave you with blisters and sore heels. You do not want to be the photographer at a Bar Mitzvah who missed the Horah dance while you were sitting down, because your feet hurt. Whether it is hats or shoes, remember to keep comfort and work sensibility in mind while adding a bit of pizzazz to your wardrobe.

            The final step is to keep your face in control. Do not let your emotions slide onto your baby soft lips. Do not let that eye brown twitch up in confusion. Do not wrinkle your nose is disgust. And do not wiggle your ears (because seriously, that is just weird.) Being a photographer means you have the chance to have a third eye, without looking like a Cyclops. You get to see a lot of hidden details that the average untrained eye misses. This could be a good thing, such as checking out the hiding blue butterfly tattoo on the hip of that new babe working the bar, but also a terrifyingly disturbing thing as you witness the ultimate flaws human kind offers publicly without consent. Like the old man three seats from you with his finger so far up his nostril you’re afraid he might scratch his brain. While you are surveying your surroundings make sure your facial expressions stay neutral. Even the slightest smirk or eye pop will make you, as a discrete photographer, detectable. Also, it is hard to take stalker shots if you are displaying your true emotions blatantly on your face. The world is an extra ordinary place filled with extraordinary sights. For example, I accidently turned a corner a few months ago and landed myself in the middle of a highly packed Gay Pride Festival in the Castro District. I would not have been able to get the picture of San Francisco’s own drag queen, Heklina, posing in front of the theater, if I was wide eyed with my jaw on the floor. I had to conceal my complete shock that this flawless, make up covered, high heeled woman, was actually a man. Make sure to keep your emotions in check by masking any facial expressions while on the shoot. This step is just as important as deciding between black or grey. Trust me.

            In order to be the ultimate photographer one must dress like a photographer. To get the most suitable behind the lens look you need to pay attention to: the lack of color in your color pallet, what your target market is (a.k.a. what the cash dealer will be wearing,) if your outfit is comfortable and squatable, whether or not your accessories support or destroy your professional tactics, and finally, what your face looks like while on the job. If these steps are followed correctly, and in that order, you will find yourself dressed to impress and your photographic abilities at top notch.

- above was my piece for my class, composition for the artist. : ) have a good night. xo 

my roommate has a very contagious laugh

I have positioned the lamp on the right side of my desk to bounce light off the walls so it gently lights the petals of my birthday flowers. It is not lighting anything on my desk - the exact opposite of what it is designed to do. Instead, it is creating patterns and folds between light and dark against the white wall that stands before me. The city is busy, but with sounds of sports cars and sirens instead of the weekend puking and screeches of the puker's girlfriends.

For my english class we had to write an artist autobiography. I received an email today from my professor asking for a digital copy of my piece for future class examples because it "made (her) laugh" and she thought I was a very "advanced and talented writer." Since this blog is all about me, I thought I would promote myself shamelessly with this award winning autobiography about my journey to becoming an artist. (I will warn you that if you are an avid reader of Verbaledudette you will notice a few pieces and parts from previous "coming of age" posts. I did not cheat, I just took my best and put it with some new bests. Get over it.) Also, I promised my Parents that I would send it to them - this is the easiest way to do that (And this way Grandmother can get it too. . . love you Granny!)

The Chronicles of the Sketchily Challenged

            My first image-taking device was a plastic red and yellow, two handled, Playschool, 35mm film camera, received in 1996. Before I could put one foot in front of the other, my nimble fingers knew how to control the shutter release button. The first roll of film developed were artistic blurred landscapes, over exposed close ups of my Mother’s smile, and abstract designs of my Father’s ears.

            I grew up in a home where creativity was just as important as eating your vegetables. In the morning I was awaken by Macy Gray’s classics on the stereo system and put to sleep with Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” vinyl album rotating slowly on the turntable. The hours in between were marked with cardboard finger-painted cars, beaded ankle bracelets, and avenues filled with sidewalk-chalked rainbows. Christmas gifts were macaroni noodle headbands. Valentines had lopsided cut out hearts pasted with glue, glitter, and Goldfish cracker crumbs fallen from my focused mouth. And my family always looked forward to my annual birthday portraits that resembled more of Van Gough without an ear than my Mother with a flower.

            Uintah Elementary School was the only educational experience that promoted fantasy over actuality, through its school colors of neon purple and the unicorn mascot leaping for the clouds on the cover of our shiny planners. Naturally, I was eager to show my school spirit in the state wide art competition. I won first place in fifth grade for Photoshopping my little sister’s face on my old english mastiff’s head. The piece was titled: “My Favorite Things.”

             It was in sixth grade I found love. I spent the entire year with that cute silver point and shoot Canon. We were always together. He never left my hand, practically glued to my palms (except when I was doing the monkey bars at recess.) He captured the awkward moments of our ruling over the students in grades one through five. We documented life as a twelve year old trying to understand the difference between boy cooties and worms, the science behind the kindergarteners having their own playground, and why Mrs. Fraughten’s last name changed every summer before returning for the new year. All these collections, memories, and friends were put into a film for the end of the year talent show. After raving reviews, the thirty-minute movie was played at graduation while parents cried, my classmates giggled, and Canon and I watched our love story unfold publicly.

            After feeling like a star in elementary school, I figured that Clayton Middle School would accept my artistic talents with open and appreciative arms. That was not the case. In eighth grade, Ms. Owen took my final project in her hands. The piece was an oil pastel mountainous landscape with rivers of violets, sky blues, and grassy greens, running through purple tipped cliffs, and beige cumulus clouds. She ripped the piece, slightly off centered, in half. The tattered valley falling to the linoleum as her chapped charcoal lips muttered, “It was a mistake allowing you into advanced art.” As I bent down, my shaking hands grasping the pieces, I decided to go back to photography.

            East High was nothing but locker room make outs, Arizona Ice Tea’s, and Zac Efron enthusiasts asking for a tour of the famous “High School Musical” school. Moral of the story, my dark room developments were not greatly appreciated compared to the latest Justin Beiber break up. Not being able to really relate to the subjects discussed at lunch, I turned to the internet to try and find the perfect school for me once I graduated. In order to find that ideal match I, naturally, Googled my two favorite things: Italia and photography. There, in my search results, listed a school called Firenze Arti Visive. Call it physic powers or an seventh sense, but I knew this my school. I emailed the head of the photography department, with my childhood “hippychics93” email address, and told him that I was interested. Maybe it was the fact that I spelled “chic(k)s” wrong that made him question my talents, but his week late response was a bit reluctant and had a lot of phrases that summed up to: “you have to be over eighteen,” “you have to be recommended by a college professor,” “you have to be a graduate student,” and “I am sorry.” I read these words a few times, let them sink in, ate a few Skittles, and took this rejection as a challenge.

            Four years later, as the thought of graduation was deeply engraved in my mind and senioritis made it difficult to attend classes, I sent another email to Mr. Charles Loverme. This time I did not ask questions, I simply told him the facts: “I am going to attend your school and you will benefit from having me in your program.” The next day my inbox held a little number one with a reply. All it said was:

Send me your portfolio.

- Charles

Immediately I assembled every photograph of flowers, dogs, my little sister, and my grandmother in standard jpeg form.

            I did not hear from the school of my dreams for two months. February 4, 2011 at sixteen hundred hours military time, I received an email of acceptation into Firenze Arti Visive in Firenze, Toscana, Italia for the fall semester of 2011.

            Before I moved to Italy I had never been on my own. I had not been to camp and I rarely had sleepovers, always making up excuses on why I could only stay late or calling my Mom in the middle of the night to pick me up. I graduated from high school and leaped into a surreal experience. I went from always holding my family’s hands, to flying my way to a foreign country where I did not know anyone, the language, where to go, or what to expect. I was pushed out of my comfort zone. I was scarred, but never did I ever regret doing it.

            Italy changed my life.

            Of course the culture and aspects of a foreign country were striking and eye opening, but suddenly I was forced to make decisions between good or bad, motivate myself to succeed at school, fix my own meals, and wash my own clothes. It sounds silly, but I was forced to grow up. Forced to experience. Forced to find out who I really was. In Italy I realized what mattered, what made who I was, what I wanted to be, and how lucky I was. I discovered, in a school with only two other students, that without art, I would not live a satisfied life. It was in Italy that the burning passion to pursue photography was fueled by hours of film development, one on one harsh critiques, and pools of tears large enough to flood the Arno River.

            When you are little you talk about what you want to do when you grow up. You draw pictures of your dream room in notebooks, you plan your prom dress, go from wanting to be a princess, to Hannah Montana, to a teacher. Then one day, you realize that you REALLY can become anything. I cannot tell you the exact day I figured out that I could be a photographer as a career, but I can tell you that once the seed was planted in my head, I could not stop feeding it nourishment. I kept telling myself the negatives: the lack of pay, the uncertainty, what will people think of you choosing art as a job? Will they think you took the easy way out? All of those are still in the soil of my ambition, but they are pushing me harder. Prove them wrong. Be happy every time you go to work. Put your best out there. Make someone notice. That small seed that once sat in the back of my mind is now a tangled vine, large and ever growing. Consuming.

            That vine has now stretched from smoggy Salt Lake City to foggy San Francisco, where I am 

studying editorial photography at the Academy of Art University. I sit in class today, a vanilla latte in 

my left hand, and remember that old red and yellow toy camera.  Since then my cameras have grown in 

size and complexity, explored cities, captured memories, endured fears, provoked and promoted 

happiness, and helped develop a profound passion. Photography, for me, is more than a hobby . . . it is 

an obsession filled with deep desire and ardor. I aim to use my photographs to please the eyes, intrigue 

the senses, and inspire reaction, while forcing the observer to question emotions. I am hoping to 

eventually work for Rolling Stone’s Magazine and shoot album covers for my favorite musicians.


Hopefully my English teacher was not the only one who enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you are a follower of my instagram (@audreyrotermund) or foresquare, you may have noticed that I have been quite the concert whore. Like seriously, I have been going to at least one show a week all thanks to the free tickets I have been winning. Most of the shows I have won have been decent, a good time, enjoyable. BUT the adventure I took Kayleigh to this last week was hands down the best yet. I am pleased to annouce that I walked away with not only a handful of images I snuck from the balcony (even though they said no photography.. hee hee) but also three new favorite bands. Ladies and Gents: please check out "Dream Tiger," "Astronautalis" and "Why?" I do not know where they have been all my life.

Have a wonderful evening. xo

west coast

I am never going to complain about having two roommates ever again. The girl who just rode the elevator with me lives upstairs in a room with seven other girls. SEVEN. There is nothing that is even slightly okay with that.

Anyways, I am back in San Francisco. The weather is simply lovely – a little rain in the morning, sunshine in the afternoon, sweaters and fog all day. Perfecto! It is almost like I have never left. I have finished my first week of classes, all of which I am incredibly excited for. Let me lay them out for you.

My first class had a few familiar faces and seemed like a calm environment – the perfect place to focus on the fundamentals of Photoshop. Then, like a jack in the box, a Canadian with a mint addiction came leaping in the room and did not stop smiling and making dry humor jokes. This man is my teacher. At first, I was a little hesitant. Bouncing guys with overly wintergreened breath are not usually something I would like to hang out with for more than three hours, but since my sister is Canadian, I will give him a chance.

Composition for the artist is taught by a young blonde girl who read way more novels than cosmopolitan magazines. She is sweet as can be, but a little on the plain side for an art school. (Do not think I am judging – if you do not look like an artist here, you are not one. Which would make complete sense with her because she in fact is not an artist, but rather a writer about art. Hmm.) This class is going to be a breeze. I may not spell anything correctly, but writing is so easy for me. And the assignments will be beneficial: artist statements, written work explanations of my pieces, and so on. My class is filled with many students from not only different majors, but also different countries. It is refreshing to have some “non camera” friends. Different points of view and different accents are lovely.

Tim (my favorite teacher from last semester) teaches Visualization. I have a feeling this class is going to be my favorite. It is all about what makes you want to look at an image. The heart, the eyes, and the brain of a photograph. We get to print our work, critique in a circle, and have a concept journal that we are encouraged to scrapbook in along with writing our ideas down. Any teacher that tells me coloring and stickers are recommended easily wins points. This is my most creative class and for that, I am incredibly excited. Our first assignment is to produce one image that shows “fear.” I would love to tell you my idea, but I have this “fear” of people stealing my ideas. It all stems back to Lauren in preschool. I told her my Halloween costume was a Barbie fairy, and guess who showed up in a Barbie Fairy costume on Halloween? ME and Lauren.. This train of doing the same thing as me and thinking it is their idea has happened multiple times. I just can’t take a chance. Always tell them you are going to be a light bulb or M&M, never tell them about the Barbie Fairy.)

My final class is Quality of Light. First of all, it is in a warehouse like building thirty minutes from my dorm. There is no elevator, but rather ramps that stack up to each floor. In the main lobby there are multiple shiny cars used for flaunting the money of the Academy and of course car design student’s inspiration. I walked into the classroom, it is actually a giant studio (aka photographer’s heaven) and every one is acting like they are in trouble. No one says anything, they look down, and they look scared. The teacher is sitting in front with a weird smile on his face eating a sandwich that looks a few days old. He introduces the class by saying there is three things we must know:

1.     He’s a dick.

2.     He doesn’t give a shit about our opinions.

3.     This class is going to be hard and we will cry.

I seemed liked the only person excited about this challenge. Any teacher that is that honest is going to challenge me. He is going to yell. He is going to ask questions that I wont know the answer to just to see my reaction and scared expression. And he is going to teach me more information in fifteen weeks than any other fifteen weeks in my life. He is going to change my life, I just know it. The set up of his class is interesting, frightening, and forced-learning. Every day we will bring in our assignments and critique them. Same old, same old. Then, he will choose a photographer, who will choose an assistant, who will choose a model. Instead of him teaching the class and techniques, the chosen students will do the demonstration as he guides you through it. HOW AMAZING IS THAT?

xo 

felice anno nuovo!

Here is to the wonderful 2012 and the adventures 2013 will bring.

In honor of the last year, i made this little poem/word vomit of a sentence or phrase from each post this past year. Thank you to those of you who read Verbaledudette. I wish you the best and a Happy New Year!

bless this mess, we tried our best.

 I am on the edge of my seat and near tears with excitement. 

free concert downtown. 

the first impression rose. 

University of Utah.

 a new flavor of man candy. 

audrey verses the job market. 

who would be my male stunt double if I was to have one?

 birthday weekend was amazing.

 screw the idea of waiting for magic, everyday is magic. 

notes from the non business major in a business class. 

call it A.D.D but I call it lack of motivation. 

Oh goodness. 

first kiss. 

we all love sexy man backs.

 internet sensation. 

The British Bad Boy. 

good night and sweet dreams. 

carpe diem. 

san francisco. 

academy of art university. 

sometimes not being in control is the most beautiful thing in the world. 

love is a mixtape.

 sexy olympic games. 

neglected my male readers. 

He is six foot one of handsome.

 brief in words, but definitely not lacking in sex appeal. 

young, exotic, and a professional. 

you know how I like those man butts. 

Mmhmm. 

He is also shy. 

Phoebe, Kayleigh, Emme, Paisley, Savannah. 

roommates. 

perks of being a wallflower. 

raggamuffin. 

photography major. 

self portrait. 

time is such a hungry beast. 

touch me. 

i'm golden. 

wild as the wind blows. 

let's get lost. 

history with an accent. 

it's as simple as it should be. 

HoBro.

 homesick. 

silence is the most powerful scream. 

You have to know where you came from to know where you are going right? 

that awkward moment when your new friend turns out to be your teacher. 

Usually there is fog. 

juices, and water that has floating citrus in it. 

more inspirational and sappy over here. 

Today was just simply sweet. 

Sweet Disposition. 

I have reached the point where I officially know that I have made the right choice. 

i came here to do art, not make friends. 

toned graphic designers. 

rocky horror picture show.

 I am being a bit dramatic, but I did feel special. 

i am afraid to merge. 

people are in a panic. 

verbaledudette gift guide. 

It is decadent. 

It's witty. 

It's interactive. 

helping the locals.

 holiday spirit.

 big city life.

 I was lucky. 

have sex with a guy with a mustache. 

arts festival.

 right as rain. 

desperation. 

gay men will marry your girlfriends. 

haberdash. 

the awful truth. 

500th post. 

cold to the bone. 

i never used to win anything. 

not so silent night. 

Jack White, Of Monsters and Men, Metric, The Gaslight Anthem, and Two Door Cinema Club. 

crying in class. enthusiastic alone time.  

Oh how do I miss my family so much. 

stay gold.