Julia Ouyang
Art Portfolio
Selfies became a new medium to experience life through. As selfies record our everyday moments, we become addicted to the fast-paced environment around us. The attitude is never about being self-obsessed but rather solidifying our relevance within the constantly expanding internet. But with technology and new trends appearing everyday, we often lose ourselves within the phone and are driven into a euphoric mania.
While rummaging through my garage, I found my dad’s tool caked in dried caulk and tarnished with rust. With every home renovation project, my frugal dad volunteers to fix it himself, and his work ethic is evident in the current condition of his tools. The details intrigued me to combine the hyperrealistic perspective of the tool with the background’s rough texture.
As a child, I had the initial innocence and purest identity. Freud characterizes this phase as the id with instinct and aggressive drive. During this stage, my immense self-love manifested in the objects of toys and teddy bears. These toys symbolized an extension of myself to comfort me with unconditional love.
My childhood bicycle stands out in my garage as I am reminded of the memories. That innocence has since worn off as I abandoned the bicycle in my garage. Along with the rest of the clutter, the bicycle now sits as another piece of meaningless clutter. I rolled the bicycle wheel in paint and stamped it into the background of the contour line drawing.
Over-achieving STEM students are the norm in my town. With my interest in visual arts, I was constantly told to find a career in STEM instead. As the expectations of teachers, peers, and friends piled on, I was overwhelmed by the pressure to be someone I am not. The roots represent my inner conflict as I picture the infinite possibilities of the future. As each root sprouted a new one, the weight of all the possibilities paralyzed me with powerlessness. The painting depicts my choice to pursue art despite the opinions of others.
Walking in downtown Atlanta, I saw the construction site in my peripheral vision. Looking closer, there seemed to be a narrow alley between the building and steel beams. Often overlooked, mundane paths exist everywhere and lead to unexpected destinations. Fascinated by the extreme perspective, I drew the composition to emphasize the values and repetitive vertical lines.
Left with no sense of identity, my identity unravelled. I fully sacrificed my self-love for others and fought to keep it alive. In this piece, I battled between my need for love and my need to love others as I struggled with my identity. I questioned whether I was a symbolic teddy bear for others to use or if I could love myself again.
As a teenager, I lost my self-love and a symbolic teddy bear as others chipped away at my self-esteem. I became paranoid and desperately grasped for any unconditional love around me. But by caring too much about other people, it became impossible to find my own distinct identity in the overcrowded environment.
The desperation for other people’s attention drove me to sacrifice my own identity. Since I couldn’t love myself, I strived to please other people and mold myself to whatever they wanted me to be. By sewing into my skin the words “listen to me” and “love me,” I ultimately became a symbolic teddy bear for other people to use. I no longer saw myself as a person but instead, an object manipulated to love other people.
After losing my own sense of self, I became obsessed with fixing other people. Sewing other’s teddy bears, I hoped to fill the hole in my heart where my self-love used to be. I wanted others to rely on and depend on me as it gave me worth and purpose in life. But the self-love I once had could not be replaced by other people’s need for me.
Looking around my study room, I saw my chair and books that sat on my desk. I portray my passionate relationship with knowledge through dramatic lighting. With watercolors, I emphasized the structure of the chair and the books against the fluid red background and the wrinkles and rolls of the curtain.
Mental health is a taboo topic in my Asian community. No one ever told me how to take care of my mental health or if mental health issues even existed. When I began struggling, I constantly heard those around me telling me to “just breathe.” The act of breathing seems to be simple, but it was significantly more difficult when I suffocated under the symbolic plastic bag of my anxiety. With charcoal, I illustrated how people often dismiss the severity of mental health issues and my own experiences.
I am fascinated by the human body and its rolls, curves, and ridges. With exaggerated foreshortening, I explored the curves of the nude model. She appears to be laying down and resting but her raised leg says otherwise. The complementary color scheme accentuates the dynamics and motion. I experimented with contour lines and the action of reclining.
Inspired by African and Aboriginal art, I address my experience as a person of color through abstract faces and designs. At a crossroads, I fight against the need to assimilate into American culture; I cling on to the last remnants of culture I have with me. The darkness represents the normalized racism in American culture and its active erasure of my cultural history. With this painting, I explored my own identity as being both Asian and American and how I navigate American culture to not assimilate.
But life is not a series of transactions of love. Loving myself and loving others is not mutually exclusive. Breaking free from this perspective, I realized that I can exist outside of the figurative teddy bear I longed for. Each wooden mannequin represents me on the journey to find self-love. Hidden behind the box, I initially felt constrained by the box itself and emotionally tied to unconditional love. The next mannequin sits on the edge of being both a toy and a distinct human figure. My present self in the far right is in motion as it walks forward to leave it all behind. I have found new ways to love myself and love others beyond figurative teddy bears.
My grandpa was a lively person with this youthful energy that lit up a room. With a language barrier between us, I did not become extremely close with him before he passed, but I distinctly remember the way he sat with the straightest posture and his kind, all-knowing eyes staring back at me. With this piece, I studied the figures of two old men and played with the lines and textures of charcoal. I imagine their lively conversations and passion that my grandpa also had.
We buy, use, and abandon material objects on the daily. With this film, I examined my own relationship with consumerism. From buying dolls to lipsticks, my maturing desires and experiences can be reflected in the receipts. As I continued to buy, I became numb to the distorted noise of material objects. My identity is tied to property. We can’t exist outside of the never-ending cycle of consumerism. We are and will always be The Consumer.
Experimenting with Adobe Illustrator, I was intrigued with the way I could play with digital media and create images out of text. I explored my relationship with consumption as I realized much of my life can be categorized and charted through my receipts. Whether it’s food, clothing, art supplies, cosmetics, or medicine, my emotions are tied to what I buy. The numbers and categorical data is deconstructed into the vibrant hues of red and yellow to portray those passionate emotions. The human condition is intertwined with consumerism and vice versa.
My new year started with a car crash. The front of my car crumpled like a soda can. The smell of the engine filled the cold night air. The impact stained my knees with blue and purple bruises.
The days after the accident, I experienced the first stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, and depression. Replaying the crash in my head, the guilt and paranoia began to overwhelm me. Cars became scary, fragile, and unstable machines ingrained in my memory.
To repair my perspective of vehicles, I slowly reach for the final stage of grief: acceptance. Like layers of fossils, the memories of my totaled car are embedded in my mind. Instead, I now accept and acknowledge it as a life experience that I grew from.