There is so much to know about one person; an insurmountable number of things. Art, however, can be a gateway to understanding, or at the very least, a reminder that there is more to an individual than what meets the eye. I find that my art reflects me as a person and displays my beliefs. From my art, you may be able to deduce that I believe in love, both spoken and unspoken. I write poems about strangers at the airport, make abstract art about people I love growing closer, paint realistic portrayals of my loved ones, and create art about my body image – about the absence of love. From my art, you can see the way that I observe beauty. In nature, I see flowers and depict them with watercolors. I write poetry about the way that I feel at ease submerged in the water, and the act of blending acrylic colors in an abstract form reminds me that I hold the power to create beauty. From my art, you can see that my relationships matter most to me. Be it a romantic, familial, or hateful relationship, or simply being connected by our presence on earth, I have found that relationships have a profound impact on my story. The piece of art that is most special to me reflects all of these values through an abstract representation of a calendar. It is an eight-by-eight grid where each row reflects a month of my freshman year of college through colors that act as an emotional map, and the ambiguous figures which represent people who felt close and far. The structure of the figures represented the way my relationships felt in general – steady, plentiful, isolating, or fleeting. There are dates and months stamped throughout the piece and important places carved into the paint throughout. To me, it is a journal, a map of where I've been and how it has felt. The viewer, however, can create their own understanding. One could find their heartbreak, a love story, or anything in between. This 36” x 36” board with oil paint is one of many pieces where I represent and examine my life and the ways it affects, and is affected by others. Creating pieces like this allows me to understand my mind, and my anxieties, and art has become a tool for me to cope with my own life. I found art to be therapeutic during treatment for my eating disorder in 2020. Art became a safe way to explore my mind which was once a painful place to exist, and I owe that skill which I continue to use in my daily life to the art therapists in inpatient and outpatient treatment settings. Working with these professionals led me to the career that I am pursuing in college currently, hoping to be an art therapist one day. Specifically, I hope to be an art therapist in a long-term patient setting, such as hospitals that serve people with lasting hospital stays, or in an assisted living facility, making people's new reality safer, and helping them understand themselves in the context of that change. From my art, you can see that I believe art has power. As both a creator and an observer, there is much to be discovered in a canvas, work of clay, or piece of writing. Art has the power to change your life, and I plan to do everything in my power to share that change with the world.

If I could describe my art in one word, “love” would be the one that I choose. My paintings, collages, and poetry are frequently inspired by my encounters with people, my relationship with myself, and the way that others interact with the world. I have used abstract and realism to depict heartbreak, friendships, and diary-like representations of entire years of my life. Art has always been a part of my life, but it changed my life in 2020. Through my experience in art therapy as a part of treatment for my eating disorder, I also experienced the love that I can show myself through art. I learned how to use painting and collage to know myself more deeply, as well as how to displace emotions and anxiety from my mind onto a piece of paper. These healthcare professionals and this process was a big part of my healing journey. With my college education, I plan to become an art therapist who will do the same for others. Art can feel intimidating or inaccessible, and it’s my goal to make an inclusive space where others can find themselves through artistic processes and grow in their understanding of their own life, as well as the world around them. I am currently in my undergraduate studies for studio art, art therapy, and neuroscience at Miami University with intentions of beginning a graduate program in 2027. In my studio work and personal work since attending Miami University, I have continued to explore the themes of love, letting my experiences inform the work on my canvases, and I am excited about the prospect of helping others find their passion for art as they navigate their own struggles with mental health. Sometimes life can feel devoid of love, color, and light, but given a paintbrush and the right materials you are at liberty to create those things for yourself, brightening a world that can feel so dark at times.

I walked up to the door, my purple suitcase bumping along behind me. I buzzed for entry in the front door while my parents hugged me from both sides, all three of us nearly crying. I checked in to Rogers Behavioral Health and was ushered away from my parents, down to the Inpatient Adolescent Eating Disorder unit. It felt like a cross between a school and a hospital, but certainly nothing like home. I cried the first night, and the second night, and probably all of the hours in between, but somewhere amidst the tears, I was able to ask one of the girls what they do each day. She walked me through the schedule, and the art therapy session immediately caught my attention. For as long as I can remember, I have loved art. Eight-year-old me would have been found stenciling fashionable outfits on paper dolls, painting masterpieces to ordain my parents' offices, or taking my American girl dolls to an art class; I knew this would be right up my alley. The familiarity of art comforted me as I navigated this sea of newness, which threatened to drown me at any moment. I didn’t realize at the time, though, that this art therapy session would change me so profoundly. On the first day, we were asked to create something that represented an emotion. This was a few days into my stay, and I remember starting with soft, cool-toned watercolors, my comfort medium. I covered half of the page in that way, and then passionately smeared the other side of the page with harsh red and black acrylics. Where the two halves met, I pasted magazine letters that read “It’s ok to win.” I let some of the light watercolors spill into the dark half of the page, flirting with the idea of fully taking over. This piece allowed me to explore the emotion that had been tearing me apart for the days prior, wrestling with being successful in recovery and the shame I felt in admitting that I wanted to get better. I experienced freedom and separation from my thoughts for the first time in months. As I showed the art therapist my work, I began to cry again, but these tears were different from the painful ones of the day before. These tears were ones of relief. That was the day I began to understand that art wasn’t just about creating something for others to praise. Art is for the artist just as much, or more, as it is for the viewer. I allowed myself to create, let loose, and let go of the societal pressures I thought existed; I was free to make bad art. Throughout my month there, I made many pieces that helped me untangle my web of anxious thoughts, and since my return to everyday life, my strongest emotions have been expressed through art of all mediums. I have found my love for poetry as a way to see and hear my thoughts. I found abstract art to be a great outlet for waves of overwhelming emotions, begging to escape from my head. I can throw colors at a canvas the same way others go biking or play guitar; it allows me to place that emotional energy outside of myself, take a step back, and examine it. A month later, I rolled that purple suitcase to my car to return home, but my emotions were no longer streaming down my face. Somewhere in that suitcase was a folder that held them now, green and blue strokes on a page that freed me from myself. Though I saw the pain my mind put me through, I have learned to love the way it moves me through life. And now I know that art will always be there for me, even when I can hardly show up for myself. Through this journey I was also guided towards my career and college education. I always wanted to turn art into a career, but never wanted to teach. Through my experience teaching art to kids of various ages, I found it hard to insert my therapeutic way of looking at being creative into the lesson plans. After learning that art therapy was an option, I set my sights on it. My hope is that the students will show up more willing to focus on their emotions and process them through art in the same way I did. My experience in art therapy as well as art classes over the years has also shaped my beliefs; I strongly believe that art is for everyone, so I hope to create a practice that works both for people that see themselves as creative, and those with little interest in the arts. During my inpatient experience as well as the partial hospitalization, intensive outpatient, and individual counseling programs that I was a part of, I have seen how empathy and understanding can bring people together. In these treatment settings, I got close with the other patients very quickly. Though our backgrounds, ages, and goals were ranging, we understood each other's pain very deeply, and it was the most caring environment I have ever been in. I attribute the increased empathy and depth that I try to create with my current relationships to that time in my life, and I hope that I can use this learned empathy along with my continued psychology education to create good in the world. Though my struggles with mental health caused me great pain, I would never trade this journey for a different one. I have learned so much about myself, others, and the world around me, and I am excited to see what kind of impact I can make with a paintbrush in my hand and love in my heart.

I walked up to the door, my purple suitcase bumping along behind me. I buzzed for entry in the front door while my parents hugged me from both sides, all three of us nearly crying. I checked in to Rogers Behavioral Health and was ushered away from my parents, down to the Inpatient Adolescent Eating Disorder unit. It felt like a cross between a school and a hospital, but certainly nothing like home. I cried the first night, and the second night, and probably all of the hours in between, but somewhere amidst the tears, I was able to ask one of the girls what they do each day. She walked me through the schedule, and the art therapy session immediately caught my attention. For as long as I can remember, I have loved art. Eight-year-old me would have been found stenciling fashionable outfits on paper dolls, painting masterpieces to ordain my parents' offices, or taking my American girl dolls to an art class; I knew this would be right up my alley. The familiarity of art comforted me as I navigated this sea of newness, which threatened to drown me at any moment. I didn’t realize at the time, though, that this art therapy session would change me so profoundly. On the first day, we were asked to create something that represented an emotion. This was a few days into my stay, and I remember starting with soft, cool-toned watercolors, my comfort medium. I covered half of the page in that way, and then passionately smeared the other side of the page with harsh red and black acrylics. Where the two halves met, I pasted magazine letters that read “It’s ok to win.” I let some of the light watercolors spill into the dark half of the page, flirting with the idea of fully taking over. This piece allowed me to explore the emotion that had been tearing me apart for the days prior, wrestling with being successful in recovery and the shame I felt in admitting that I wanted to get better. I experienced freedom and separation from my thoughts for the first time in months. As I showed the art therapist my work, I began to cry again, but these tears were different from the painful ones of the day before. These tears were ones of relief. That was the day I began to understand that art wasn’t just about creating something for others to praise. Art is for the artist just as much, or more, as it is for the viewer. I allowed myself to create, let loose, and let go of the societal pressures I thought existed; I was free to make bad art. Throughout my month there, I made many pieces that helped me untangle my web of anxious thoughts, and since my return to everyday life, my strongest emotions have been expressed through art of all mediums. I have found my love for poetry as a way to see and hear my thoughts. I found abstract art to be a great outlet for waves of overwhelming emotions, begging to escape from my head. I can throw colors at a canvas the same way others go biking or play guitar; it allows me to place that emotional energy outside of myself, take a step back, and examine it. A month later, I rolled that purple suitcase to my car to return home, but my emotions were no longer streaming down my face. Somewhere in that suitcase was a folder that held them now, green and blue strokes on a page that freed me from myself. Though I saw the pain my mind put me through, I have learned to love the way it moves me through life. And now I know that art will always be there for me, even when I can hardly show up for myself. Through this journey I was also guided towards my career and college education. I always wanted to turn art into a career, but never wanted to teach. Through my experience teaching art to kids of various ages, I found it hard to insert my therapeutic way of looking at being creative into the lesson plans. After learning that art therapy was an option, I set my sights on it. My hope is that the students will show up more willing to focus on their emotions and process them through art in the same way I did. My experience in art therapy as well as art classes over the years has also shaped my beliefs; I strongly believe that art is for everyone, so I hope to create a practice that works both for people that see themselves as creative, and those with little interest in the arts. During my inpatient experience as well as the partial hospitalization, intensive outpatient, and individual counseling programs that I was a part of, I have seen how empathy and understanding can bring people together. In these treatment settings, I got close with the other patients very quickly. Though our backgrounds, ages, and goals were ranging, we understood each other's pain very deeply, and it was the most caring environment I have ever been in. I attribute the increased empathy and depth that I try to create with my current relationships to that time in my life, and I hope that I can use this learned empathy along with my continued psychology education to create good in the world. Though my struggles with mental health caused me great pain, I would never trade this journey for a different one. I have learned so much about myself, others, and the world around me, and I am excited to see what kind of impact I can make with a paintbrush in my hand and love in my heart.

I am a friend of guitar players, and some of my favorite memories are laced with the sounds of their melodic strumming. I am the granddaughter of a watercolor artist, the niece of an interior designer, as well as a painter, and I am an artist myself. I paint, in solitude and with others, I write, create collages, listen to music, and in the most artistic act of all, I embrace the life that surrounds me. Art is everywhere, and I think the Beach Boys and other artists of the 70’s understood that well. Most people today know the catchy tune, Surfin’ U.S.A., and for good reason; their bright, upbeat sound is paired with lyrics that capture the most joyful parts of being alive. I was introduced to The Beach Boys by my grandpa Eddie. He was a businessman for most of his life, but in his retirement he found his passion for painting with watercolor, and in his absence, I have come to understand the joy he felt when he painted. He gifted me his watercolor palettes and materials, and in that process he also gave me an opportunity to step out of my comfort zone and try something new. I have painted with the Beach Boys in my ears and my grandfather on my mind, and I find it so impactful how, not just the Beach Boys, but all forms of music can alter my painting process and what comes out on the page. I have listened to upbeat indie music while painting my most dynamic abstract artwork, and I have done a collage inspired by Noah Kahan’s song, The View Between Villages. The 70’s was alive with culture of all kinds, and I would be shocked to hear that the work of artists like Jasper Johns and Andy Warhol was untouched by the music of Elton John or the Eagles, as well as other films, poetry and more. Art, being all around us, has a passive influence, but it is even more impactful when deliberately recognized; through my career, I hope to be a part of making this intentional appreciation more accessible. I am currently a freshman at Miami University, majoring in Studio Art with a co-major in Art Therapy, and I am additionally pursuing a minor in Neuroscience. This would lead me to a graduate school program, as well as certification in the state I wish to practice in. With this amount of schooling, art supplies, and studying ahead of me, the funds from your scholarship would make a tremendous impact on myself and my family. I have dreams of being the next generation of artists inspiring, and inspired by, the world around them. Be that other painters, music, landscapes, or the clients I will be working with, I am elated at the thought of the lasting impact I will have.

As a child, I couldn't be kept away from my creative endeavors. Even with no art supplies, I would have been in the woods creating a fairy village out of sticks, flowers, and found objects, observing my own magic. I held myself to no boundaries at this age, dabbling in fashion stencils, dollhouse interior design, Rainbow Loom, spin art, and clay projects. I was regularly found in front of my easel painting with childish abandon for the rules of color and shape, and an understanding that creativity meant freedom. My love for art grew as I aged, encouraged by my family and creative friends, but in highschool, life as a three-sport athlete and high-achieving student left me with little time to nurture this part of myself. All of a sudden, however, March of 2020 came, and my days were wide open as the world collectively closed down. Stuck at home, I could have seized the opportunity to create, but I did not take advantage of this time. Instead, I pursued healthy eating and exercise to an extreme, leading to high anxiety, panic attacks, and an unsafe heart rate. In November of 2020, I spent a week at University of Wisconsin-Madison Children's Hospital, stabilizing my vitals and re-feeding; I was then transferred to Rogers Behavioral Health for a month of inpatient treatment. It wasn’t until I hit this rock bottom that I understood how much I needed to use my creativity. I was introduced to art therapy during treatment, and on the first day, we were asked to represent an emotion. I remember starting with soft, cool-toned watercolors, my comfort medium. I covered half of the page in that way, and then passionately smeared the other side of the page with harsh red and black acrylics. Where the two halves met, I pasted magazine letters that read “It’s ok to win.” I let some of the light watercolors spill into the dark half of the page, flirting with the idea of fully taking over. This piece allowed me to explore the emotion that had been tearing me apart throughout treatment, wrestling with being successful in recovery and the shame that I felt in admitting I wanted to get better. I experienced separation from my thoughts for the first time in months, and that was the day I began to understand that art wasn’t just about receiving praise; my artistic process was for me. During that month, I made many pieces that helped me untangle my web of anxious thoughts, and since my return to everyday life, my strongest emotions have been expressed through art of all mediums. This journey additionally guided me towards my career and college education. I am currently a freshman at Miami University, working towards a degree in Studio Art with a co-major in Art Therapy as well as a minor in Neuroscience. This would lead me to a graduate school program, and certification in the state I wish to practice in. With this amount of schooling, art supplies, and studying ahead of me, your scholarship would lighten my load tremendously. I have dreams of helping people in the way that other professionals did for me. I believe that art is for everyone, and I hope to be a practitioner that helps both creatives, and those with little interest in the arts. I would be grateful if you took stake in my dream to change lives one courageous brush stroke at a time.

As I was packing up my entire life for college, clothes and bedding were at the top of the list, but nowhere to be found were my struggles with mental health. Ideally, I would have left them behind along with the discarded t-shirts and room decor, but these feelings are not something you can leave at the door. My residual eating disorder thoughts, body image struggles, general anxiety, and perfectionism have followed me closely for the past few years. While playing volleyball with friends, thoughts of how many calories I am burning can come to plague me. I have to get dressed every morning and eat at least three times a day, giving my eating disorder thoughts space to creep in. As I sit in a lecture hall, the way my stomach folds over my jeans can consume more of my mental energy than the content being taught. At times, it is hard to put my perfectionism aside in order to complete all of my assignments while also preserving my personal life. Though these thoughts don’t always consume me, the possibility for them to make my life more challenging exists each day. College is a time to be focused on your studies and the opportunities on campus. Mental health struggles certainly add a barrier to my college experience, but through tools I have gained in treatment, and routines I have built during my first semester, my symptoms have been minimal in contrast to years prior. Before college, my inpatient, partial hospitalization program, and outpatient therapies, provided me with tools to neutralize my negative thought patterns. I do my best to set aside time to journal, meditate, and spend time with myself, and when I am out on campus I use thought challenging, cognitive diffusion, and breathing patterns to self-soothe. My favorite tool for when my thoughts begin to race is closing my eyes and visualizing a river. On this river are leaves, representing my individual thoughts, floating by as passing visitors. This detaches me from them, and reminds me that interacting is a choice. Aside from learned strategies, I have also found relief by being surrounded with great friends, being involved on campus with club volleyball, rock climbing, and classes at the recreation center such as yoga and zumba. Additionally, I have a therapist on campus, and checking in with her every couple weeks has made a huge difference in how my mental health affects my academics and personal life. The biggest step I am taking daily, however, is giving myself grace; healing isn’t linear, and college is the biggest transition I have been through in my life. Being patient with myself and the ebbs and flows of my mental health has had the biggest impact of all, making my first semester of college an amazing experience despite not being able to leave my struggles behind me.

I feel most creative when I am out in the world; surrounding myself with other people who are living life inspires me to use my art practice to represent my understanding of the world around me. There are places where my mind becomes consistently creative, the airport being my favorite. I see people hugging in a joyous hello or a devastating goodbye and as I look out the window, departing from the life I have built, I begin to be inspired by the impact I hold in a world so large. As I drive through big cities at night I wonder what the lives led behind each illuminated window hold, and as I walk by thousands of people in the daylight, I am filled with a sense of vigor. Nature is full of inspiration, and my college campus reminds me of all of the life paths crossing that fail to become entangled with one another. All of the chances that exist in our daily life are laid out on the table, and I am left to wonder why things happen the way that they do. With contemplations so large, I can’t help but create and take these feelings to a canvas or page. Despite the way that my daily life inspires me, I have difficulty consistently making time to create. If I had an extra 24 hours in the day, I would primarily spend it on making art. I would also spend some of it encountering the world individually. A lot of my day is spent in direct company with other people, and while that is valuable, I find that inspiration strikes most profoundly when I am alone. Specifically, being alone in a space filled with strangers gives me the opportunity to observe the world around me, but also to be introspective and let artistic ideas flow freely. I am inspired by love as well, so I would lastly use some of my additional hours to be with people that I care about, and that make my life more meaningful; hardly anything would be worth painting about if not for the people and experiences that have shaped my life. My creative passion is using art as a method of understanding my own emotions and the world that surrounds us all. Specifically, I enjoy abstraction and poetry as a way to express my feelings. I encountered art therapy during my own mental health treatment, and I am attending college to pursue art therapy as a career, hoping to share the profound impact art has had on my life and my healing journey with others. I hold a deep belief that art is for everyone, and I know that by introducing art practices to a greater number of people, the world will encounter more expression, appreciation, healing, and self-discovery than it was seeing before.

Personal values impact the way you move through life regardless of your awareness of that fact. Through awareness of these values, however, you are able to move through life in a more meaningful fashion. I was able to discover my values through therapy, and that is part of the reason I am pursuing art therapy as a career, helping others access this part of themselves, and use it to benefit their life. I recently did a value activity that impacted me tremendously. My therapist guided me through a process of selecting the following ten values: self-discipline, order, stability, love, creativity, social connection, growth, self-expression, passion, and fun. After this, she told me that each one has roots, branches, and fruit. The roots of each of our values describe the parts of our past that informed these values. The branches represent the actions we take in our life because of these values, and the fruit represents the way those actions affect our life. I left this therapy session with a greater understanding of myself, additional tools to live more authentically, and a reminder of how impactful the women who have guided me through my treatment have been. When it comes to the way my values will inform my work, I think it is pertinent to start with the values that pushed me in the direction of a people-centered and helping career. My values for love, social connection, and growth have pushed me to want to work with others and make a difference in a tangible and face-to-face way. However, I think the values that have informed my decision to step into a career in mental health most dramatically are self-discipline and order. When exploring the roots, branches, and fruits of these values, I was confronted with pain. These values, in the way that I have applied them in the past, were the cause of my personal struggle with mental health. Self-discipline and order were the spearheads of my perfectionism and people-pleasing as a young child, and when I took the reins during highschool, these values manifested in painful anxiety and a devastating eating disorder. Though I have thrown away the fruits and pruned back the branches associated with these values, the roots still live within me, and I fight with them every day. Each day, however, I am learning to love and understand these parts of myself more, and this type of acceptance is what I want to help others reach, impacting the type of facility or clients I work with. The personal experience I have in dealing with these sorts of issues has made me want, more than anything, to be in a position to help others work through similar struggles. The values of creativity, self-expression, passion, and fun have informed my decision to become an art therapist specifically. I have always been a creative person and an artist, encouraged by my parents from a very young age. I didn’t know this career was an option until my encounter with it in inpatient treatment for my eating disorder. I found a sense of freedom and expression that I couldn’t achieve with words, and that creative outlet got me through my hardest days. I have always held the belief that art is for everyone, and I hope that through my career, I can foster creativity and self-expression in my clients, sharing my passion for art as well as life.

Some people see flowers and feel inclined to paint them, or a cityscape and have the desire to capture it. In my experience though, it’s not the way the world looks that sparks creativity. I have found that the way the world makes me feel is what inspires me most. Positive emotions like joy or love and painful emotions like anxiety and rejection are best captured in my artistic endeavors. I allow abstraction to absorb emotions, each one living within one of the brush strokes. Poetry is my favorite form of emotional expression; it’s a playful way to articulate the feelings that live inside of me. As I experience feelings I can’t put into words, an artistic concept formulates in my head, visually describing the way that I feel. When I create these compelling images, it makes room for life to inspire me once again. Sometimes I meditate, have a visualization, and I have learned that I have the power to bring it to life. What truly inspires me to put paint on canvas is not the beauty of the object, but the emotion that connects me to it. I don’t paint a sunset simply because it is nice to look at. Instead, I allow the calm feeling from that moment to inspire each brush stroke. When someone hurts me, it’s refreshing to have an artistic response. Because even when the world is ugly, even when bad things are happening around me, I hold the power to turn that into something beautiful. The way that this life makes me feel is not something to run from, but something to lean into, both the good and the bad. Because regardless of how it feels on the inside, it can inspire something beautiful for everyone to see.

My love for art has always been with me. A seed was planted at a young age, and I remember tending to it fondly, making clothing for paper dolls and using fashion stencils to draw my latest designs. My parents got me art supplies for Christmas and encouraged me to engage with the art world. The American Girl Doll houses I crafted from cardboard and discarded household items allowed my creativity to flourish and I loved to spend hours entrapped in that world. I took every summer school art class I could and made Perler Beads, Rainbow Loom bracelets, and Duct Tape wallets until my fingers fell off. Taylor Swift’s debut album inspired me to sing, informing my love of music, and my weekly dance lessons showed me the joy of expression. At the time, I didn’t realize that half of those things counted as “art”. My view of the medium was so limited but my love for it has always been big. I continued to create because it made me happy, and I was proud to show everyone what I had made. The love stemmed from simple joy and eventually, it blossomed into a flowering plant. Just like all things in life, though, it could not remain that simple. Life got busy, and I neglected its growth. The love lived on in small ways, its roots running deep, and I appreciated art quietly. Music during study hall and saving ideas to my Pinterest board that I would never have the time to create. The soil remained rich through school art classes and in 2020, flowers bloomed as I watered it once again. Through my time away from home in treatment for my eating disorder, I found that art could make me happy, not just through the joy that comes from putting a paintbrush on paper, but from the emotional outlet it provided me. Poems held my most complicated feelings and paintings captured emotions with each brush stroke. Though I don't have a green thumb, with care, I can help this plant flourish, and it all began with a seed planted long ago. Keith Haring was a sower of seeds, spending his life planting new ones in young minds as well as tending to his own. He serves as a reminder of the care we must take when fostering the growth of our artistic journey, and that is why he is my favorite artist. Through his art, he created his own visual language using simple human figures, dogs, and his iconic baby throughout his massive body of work. Bright colors and distinct linework were used to discuss hard topics in an accessible way. The simplicity of each creation challenged critics at the time, and they didn’t know how to respond to this art that was designed for everyone. Haring saw his creative processes as his gift and obligation to the world, and he created in a way that kept his childlike wonder alive. He called himself twelve years old at heart and the zest with which he created showed that. Wrestling with his own mortality in an admirable way, he was enamored by the way that his art would outlive himself. Many of the conversations he had with the media remind me of the existential ways I often think about art, making him and his art relatable. I admire these qualities and enjoy looking at his work for the aesthetics, the ideas that informed it, and the soulful person behind the process.