Too Many Epiphanies
At least 4,000 times. That’s my rough estimate for how many times I’ve listened to my favorite song “Iron Lung” by Black Marble since its release. My affection for that album knows no bounds. It’s been by my side through the best and worst times of my life. It fills me with a pleasantly haunting sense of melancholic comfort, regardless of the circumstances. Chris Stewart (the mastermind behind Black Marble) has been an idol and the biggest inspiration for my design and artwork for as long as I’ve been creating things seriously.
I mention my obsession with this band, as I did a great deal of soul searching this past summer. There were too many epiphanies and revelations over my state of restlessness in The Centennial State, all occurring while Chris’ vocals echoed through my room.
During this past gloomy summer, I read up on Chris. I lingered on countless interviews and I learned the material in It’s Immaterial revolved around feelings of morose self-reflection, a need for a change, and uncontrollable circumstances that tend to shape the present for better or worse. The album was a sort of immense restlessness calling for a new start. A new place to call home and an expression of this through his art.
As I read his words describing his own creation, I found myself feeling as though I had written them in the margins of my sketchbook, beneath one of my own disconsolate doodles.
However, Chris changed this feeling and stopped being afraid. He created one of the most beautiful things in the world and then leapt across the country to start anew. Though trapped in this academic prison that is my undergraduate degree, I’m taking what leaps I can, and killing the fear of failure or being different. Negativity toward my work will be null.
Thus, all the weird and artsy design work I’ve done in any capacity is coming to fruition. I’ve received more compliments on my recent creations than I have in my entire life. That’s kind of what’s keeping me going: recognition for change. I can’t wait to move on from this feeling of being pinned and downcast in Denver. Until then, I’ll slowly work toward making my own personal “It’s Immaterial.”