The Notes of Life

By: Marina Caspe 

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Flashing synthetic organ sounds layered over quirky string machines with background hints of a charming guitar melody echo through my head as I drive up the French Alps. I cannot help but feel a sense of wonder. 

 

I run, I run so far to see what I already know but it is external so it is a distraction from my reality. When I run, I stop, I stop thinking about what weighs heavy on me. I become more aware of the external than the internal. Habits are what make or break a person, aren’t they? 

 

“Again” my Grandmie would say, “Again.” Too dry,” “overcooked,” “dull taste,” “flavorless crust.” My Grandmie was a perfectionist, or at least I thought she was at the time. Everything that came out of our archaic white Cuisinart required perfection. At the time, I thought she was crazy. A cookie is a cookie, right? This is where I went wrong. The deciding factor that makes these products is the baker. The baker must bake with passion. 

 

So, I listen with soul, I bake with passion and run with closed eyes. This fills me. I share with the world through my hands. My conscience is best articulated through my hands. ​​This ability that my grandmother taught me was strictly for baking, I had thought, but it was not. Little did I know that I carried out this mindset throughout my life. 

I walk through life noticing this little thing in every piece of the earth (the hidden flavors). My ability to pick apart parts of songs is similar to my ability to pick apart flavors in a good cookie. Each instrument makes my mind spin, sends me on a journey, and like most artists, allows me to see without saying. When I listen to music, I see the most beautiful creations in my head, a world that has yet to be explored. A world of my own. I am able to feel what I have not been able to digest before. Through music my ability to transform these visions into art has been more than a therapeutic process, it has changed the way I see my own life. 

 

I believe everything in the world today is a projection of infinite love. These images in my head are all projections of love that I am not able to articulate through words. Allowing my hands to be my voice. Through the use of clay, I am able to feel a connection to my pieces and grasp a fuller understanding of what it means to love and be loved. While sculpting with clay my thoughts flourish, and my thoughts turn into form. 

 

I discovered my passion for clay upon admiring its simplicity. Clay is raw earth, it is simple, and we as artists can make the clay complicated. I admire the ability to reflect on one’s emotions and understanding through this simple form. It is simply poetic to impose human impurity onto this natural state. Through my vast body of works in the past, I have experimented with abstract geometrical shapes, anthropophilic forms, and natural creations all revolving around expression. It is my goal to create a connection between these works as well as expand on my ability to express verbally what I create. 

 

As a woman, a student, and an individual, I possess qualities that define me as intelligent and caring. While I perceive the world through my own lens, I recognize that we all experience emotions and grapple with the unknown. Every human seeks to expand their knowledge to impact the world, and every woman has the strength and beauty that she employs to care for others. However, despite knowing whom I am supposed to be and how I should act, I still question my true identity. I often wonder if I should be that curios independent lady I feel like, or if I need to be a backbone, holding together reality like faulty structuring. As I mature, I ponder if I am meant to be alone, this causes me sadness. I know I am never alone, however, in my mind, I am constantly on a deserted island. Our brains are more powerful than we know, so powerful that we can run with our minds closed, we can see with our souls, and live with what we understand. Our habits may have proven characteristics of ourselves, however, what is true remains on the inside. The inside that I was once scared to face. 

 

Life itself is beautiful. I, a conscious partaker in life have found joy in connecting emotion to my perception of reality. My hands are my voice. My voice is one of many, but one that the world has yet to understand. A dance that has just begun.