Hilda Klinger Memorial Scholarship

From the very first day I learned to speak, I've been doing art. As long as I can remember I've been surrounded by art, and a love for it. My mom makes the most wonderful art, full of spirit and feeling, so intense it's abstract in the love it radiates. She taught me to love paints, when it was just crayola washables and cheap printer paper. When my best piece was a finger painting of the monster under my bed, she encouraged me, and loved every piece I made. There's a collection in my home, binder upon binder, upon folder of my old drawings and paintings and collages. Every single one. She taught me that the world is my canvas. That everything is art. She showed me clay, and paper mache, with sewing, and a million other wonderful things. With my mother, my love of art was born. She cradled it in her hands from day one, and told me I could do anything. When I was a bit older, my dad came in. He's a magnificent artist. He went to college for an associates degree in studio arts. He designed comics, he created masterpieces in ink, and graphite, and pen. The Prismacolor pencils, his to create the whole world with. My dad taught me technicality. He showed me perspective, from the very first cube I successfully drew, to graffiti tags, on practice sketch paper. He showed me a love of jewelery making, and beading, and how lovely a gift can be when you've made it yourself. He taught me theory. He was and is my harshest critic. He inspires me every day to do more. He tells me how I can improve, what I can make better. He pushes me. He knows how far I can go, and he doesn't let me stop before I've done my absolute best. With my father, my skill was honed, and nourished. I have been surrounded by art, from every painting in every hallway that my grandmother ever made, to stacks of my dad's college portfolio's to my mother's paintings in large, to the craft reindeer I made at Christmas 14 years ago, to the dolls and blankets sewn for me from loving hands, to the collages on my walls, the jewelery on my neck, the flowers in the vase on my dresser, a gift from my uncle when I was eight, clay dishes for my rings, hand molded mugs for my mother's pens. Bookshelves full of sketchbooks and journals and memories from every member of my family. My mom, my dad, my brothers and my sister. There is not simply one place where my love for art had stemmed from. I am surrounded by art, I am surrounded by love. For me, for my family, art is love. Art is the tender hand that holds mine when I don't know where I'm going. My father is my favorite artist. He has never been too proud of his art. He doesn't talk about it, or hang it up, but I've seen it. I look through it on days when I need something to remind me what I came from and what I can do, if I just keep practicing. His skill is incredible to me. He quit doing art sometime in college after a beloved friend passed away, and I mourn for my dad, who loved to do art, who was so good at it. He is my favorite artist. He inspires me. So, with the love that my mother blossomed, and the skill my father taught. I will create.

Becoming an artist was always in my blood. I can't remember a specific time when art struck me; it has just always been there. One of my earliest memories was sneaking into my grandparents' basement, past the 20-gallon fish tank, and through a small wooden door into my grandpa's painting room. The moment you walked in, you were immediately struck by the smells of acrylic paint and turpentine. It was a humble room with hand-built wooden shelves and paintings filling every inch of the walls. In the middle of the tight space stood a little easel with his current painting. I would marvel at his progress and get so excited to see it finished. While everyone else was trying sports, math, and dance in grade school, I was devoting countless hours to art. I was so invested in my improvement that I quit all extracurricular activities, wanting to spend every minute creating. Over the years, I explored pottery, painting, drawing, and animating, but I never strayed far from the arts. I never grew out of that drive. When I was still in grade school, my grandpa pulled me aside and gifted me some of his paint supplies (I had only been drawing with pencils before this). He told me he noticed how much I loved doing art. He was proud of me and wanted to see what I could create. As someone I look up to in so many different aspects, I was absolutely beaming. My creative bone came from him and will always remind me of him, even though he passed away a year ago. For the inspiration he gave me and the support he showed, my grandpa is my favorite artist. Like Hilda Klinger, my grandpa never had the opportunity to attend art school—or even finish grade school. As an immigrant, my grandpa raised his seven children in a country he didn't know. He had a lot of responsibility but never gave up on art. His paintings were of simple towns and seascapes. His signature elements were cranes and lighthouses, which he just loved to include and I love to point out in real life. My grandpa's dedication to his art, despite his challenges, mirrors Hilda Klinger's own journey and passion. Stories like these inspire me to pursue my dream of becoming a professional artist, despite hardships. This scholarship would provide me with the financial support I need to follow in their footsteps and continue to grow as an artist. Thank you for considering my application for the Hilda Klinger Memorial Scholarship.

From the start, my mother gifted me with my love for the arts. Being a music teacher, she is--and always has been--a creative person who enjoys art in all its many forms. I thoroughly enjoyed the picture books she read to me as a child, but I especially loved being whisked away into the vivid illustrations that burst from the pages. As a small child, I lacked the words at the time, but it was then that I began to truly appreciate each art style, their intricacies, and the dedication taken by the artist with each expressive character, each encapsulating background, and each riveting scene. When I was around the age of ten, I began to take art seriously. I designed my own characters, taking inspiration from the books I read and the television shows I watched. My mom was in full support of this, gifting me art supplies on my birthday and for Christmas. Even in middle school, when I decided that I wanted to pursue visual art as a career, a risky one at that, she still encouraged me towards my goal. As a current senior in high school applying to colleges as an intended illustration major, she is still my strongest ally. I always approach her first for feedback on my work, and she always provides honest answers. She has never doubted or questioned me once in my goal of illustrating children's books, fortifying my love for art. She pushes me towards my goals when an unsupportive parent may have pushed me away from my creative pursuits. My favorite artist may very well be influenced by my connection with my mother. After seeing Mary Cassatt’s painting, "The Child’s Bath" upon my first trip to the Art Institute of Chicago, I instantly grew enamored with the work. The painting in question shows a mother bathing her young daughter. The child sits on her mother's lap while wrapped in a towel. Meanwhile, her mother washes her feet in a basin filled with water. Despite the painting being 129 years old, it has always connected with me. I remember being a toddler and bathing with my mother's help, playing with bubbles and pretending to be a mermaid while she played along. While the time period and circumstances are different, the concept and the love shared between mother and child always remains. Much of Cassatt's work lovingly displays this same concept. Her paintings are endearingly human, domestic, and real. They are beautiful, engaging moments frozen in time, still here for people to see themselves in today. I hope to captivate the same magical feeling in my own work throughout my artistic career.

As funny as it sounds, my family is probably the least artistic family in the world. My mom jokes that she can't draw a straight line if her life depended on it and my brother couldn't even be bothered to pick up the pencil. That being said, I had to find art on my own. I had to find what it meant to me. My whole childhood, before each birthday I would ask for anything hands-on: Bracelet making kits, doll-making kits, art sets, etc. That was just the beginning. The best part of being creative was that money never held me back. My instant thought when I wanted something that my mom was unable to afford was “Can I make it? Is there a youtube video for this?.” My favorite project of mine was when I turned a plastic peanut butter container into a pink bedazzled piggy bank, similar to the one I saw at Walmart earlier that day. Although it wasn't pig-shaped, 10-year-old me was more than satisfied. In the 6th grade, I was signed up for orchestra class. I did a quick “eenie meenie miney mo” on the instrument sign-up sheet and my finger landed on the cello (thank goodness it did). Since that day I found a passion for a new aspect of art: Performing. I loved that my mom or brother didn't understand my love for the arts, it was my little secret. With that in mind, it is clear to me that my love for the arts stemmed from the fact that it was my own to go out and discover. In an alternate universe where my mom is a pianist and my brother is a fashion designer, I can still guarantee that I would love art but I doubt it would be the way I do here in this universe. I'm aware that everyone in the world enjoys art in some form whether it be music or decorative items in their home, but there's just something so incredible about being the artist. To have the ability to take something from your mind and make it come to life or to have the ability to pick an emotion you wish to portray through your music and see the effect it has on your listeners is simply amazing. On Instagram, I closely follow an artist that goes by the name of Cris Blackwater. She is a goldsmith that creates gorgeous custom jewelry and has earned a place as my favorite artist. What makes her stand out so brightly to me is that she just began her craft in 2020. I love that Cris took advantage of quarantine and found a new passion. I will be attending the Metropolitan State University of Denver for jewelry welding, Cris Blackwater’s work was one of the inspirations for my decision.

Art has been an intrinsic part of my life, igniting a deep passion from a familial connection. My mother, an artist, nurtured my love for artistic expression from an early age. We spent hours together painting and exploring the vibrant world of colors, shapes, and textures. It is through this bond that my love of art truly flourished. As an African American male, my art appreciation is enriched by the diverse narratives and unique perspectives it offers. One artist, in particular, has captured my heart and imagination: Jean-Michel Basquiat. Basquiat's ability to blend graffiti, abstraction, and street art elements with profound social commentary resonates deeply with me. His bold, raw, and expressive style challenges societal norms and confronts issues of race, identity, and inequality. Basquiat's artistry embodies the essence of my personal experiences and the collective struggles marginalized communities face. His ability to transform the canvas into a platform for self-expression and social critique inspires me to explore art as a powerful tool for change. Through his work, Basquiat exemplifies the potential of art to transcend boundaries and give voice to the voiceless. However, it is the influence of my mother that has genuinely shaped my artistic journey. As a young boy, she encouraged me to explore my creativity, giving me the tools and space to express myself freely. We would embark on artistic adventures together, immersing ourselves in paint, brushes, and canvases. Her guidance and support have been invaluable, fostering my technical skills and nurturing a deep appreciation for art as a means of self-expression and storytelling. Through art, I have discovered a profound sense of liberation and empowerment. It allows me to communicate my thoughts, emotions, and experiences in ways that transcend language barriers. Art has become a medium through which I can challenge stereotypes, celebrate diversity, and shed light on the untold stories of marginalized communities. As I embark on my artistic journey, I am committed to carrying forward the legacy of my mother's guidance and Basquiat's inspiration. I aspire to use my artwork to amplify marginalized voices, spark conversations, and promote social change. By blending my unique perspective as an African American male with the artistic techniques and influences that have shaped me, I hope to create art that resonates with others and evokes a sense of connection and empathy. In conclusion, my love of art is deeply rooted in the creative bond shared with my mother and fueled by the profound impact of artists like Jean-Michel Basquiat. Their influence has ignited a fire within me to explore art as a means of self-expression, social commentary, and empowerment. As I continue my artistic journey, I am committed to using my art to celebrate diversity, challenge stereotypes, and shed light on the stories of those who often go unheard. Through my work, I aim to inspire and connect with others, leaving a lasting impact on the world through the power of art.

When I was little, no Saturday morning was complete without cartoons. My dad and I would sit on the living room floor with our bowls of cereal and watch Phineas and Ferb, just enjoying our time together. It didn't matter that we'd seen some of the episodes fifteen times, it was our thing. I remember one day they made a particularly funny joke on the show and my dad laughs, "I'd love to be in the room where they write one of these," he said through his chuckles. My five-year-old mind was blown. People actually get paid to make cartoons for a living? I had always been an artsy kid, but that was the first time I remember thinking of art as an actual career. My parents have always been supportive of the arts. My mom would always want to take us to the Nelson Atkins for her birthday. My sister and I would follow her around when we were little, laughing at all of the naked butts in the sculpture garden and trying to decipher the abstract art pieces. I don't think I truly appreciated how much she knew about art history. A math teacher by profession, my mom would point out all of the paintings by famous artists and talk about how she had seen their other works on her visits to Europe in her twenties. As I got older, I started to understand why she liked it so much. Now I know most of her stories by heart, and I always think of them when walking around the museum. I was a creative kid. My parents supported me in anything I wanted to do, so I never strayed from creative fields when my teachers asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. In elementary school I said I wanted to be a fashion designer, as I got older I wanted to be a writer, and then I watched Gravity Falls for the first time with my little sister. I had been a fan of cartoons before, if you can name it I probably watched it at some point or another, but there was something about that show that made me fall in love with the medium of animation. I loved the way that the Pines family felt like friends and the story felt like an escape. After I watched it I knew: I wanted to be an animator. You can say my love of art comes from my family. It has always been art that holds us together; from Saturday morning cartoons to U2 concerts, I have always felt closest to my family when we are enjoying art together. Now for my favorite artist, I could name drop some animation legends you've heard of in passing; Alex Hirsch, Dana Terrace, and Owen Dennis to name a few, but I would be lying. All of these people are wonderful, but the true artists are my parents. My mom may be too bashful to even touch a paintbrush, but she's always trying to create a way to make learning fun for her students, and she's not afraid to bust out a few dance moves in the kitchen. My dad works as a mainframe developer, but I've seen how happy he is when he's trying to perfect his chocolate chip cookie recipe or trying to draw a cartoon character for my sister. They may not be artists by profession, but they are creatives at heart, and I would not be where I am today without my favorite artists: Dana and Charles Borgmeyer.