Any artist can attest to the chicken versus the egg argument when it comes to inspiration; life is full of ironies, and one of the most noteworthy is the debate over whether art imitates life or vice versa. I draw my own inspiration from a variety of sources, though at times, I've found it difficult to separate what motivates me: is it the will of the designer or the design itself that will grip my imagination by the proverbial reins? I have previously and continue to find a certain level of irony when I observe my work in the context of designers whom I find inspiring. One of the greatest aesthetics that has driven my design can be found in my intense love of Barbara Kruger’s work — as I have, on more than one occasion, had to stop and ask myself, “Do I love Barbara Kruger because of Futura? Or do I love Futura because of Barbara Kruger?” Obviously, it’s far more significant than a typeface (and even moves into those mercurial lines of "design vs designer"), but each time I select Futura for a piece, I feel a callback to Kruger’s work.
I first discovered her design through my mother — a trailblazing, second-wave feminist who fought tooth and nail for civil rights around the time that Kruger’s designs arrived on the scene. My parents both instilled in me a passion for tolerance, for equality, and for the burning and ever-crucial need to shun silence. Neither my parents nor Kruger were silent in times of injustice, and through the powerful imagery and text in Kruger’s work, I find myself drawn, time and again, to the evocative design that pulls the viewer into the issue at hand — whether that be a matter of gender, race, sexuality, or otherwise.
I aspire to blend the social and cultural movements of my time with my design. I want to find not only the tools to express the struggles faced through contemporary oppression, but also discover how I can find a foothold in activism with my work. Currently, I’ve done more designs centered around the stigmatization of mental illness, and the various means to address and normalize the daily struggle for individuals who are not neurotypical. I want to explore more of this in the future, and also find means to throw myself into the work that harkens back to designers such as Barbara Kruger, Lourdes Zolezzi, Shiela de Bretteville, and Luba Lukova. I think there is still a place (and a desperate need, in the coming years especially) for artists to shun silence, to put themselves and their work forward for the sake of a voice.
To find a place for myself among all the other voices, however, is my next challenge. I want to continue to grow in my designs, to be able to reach an audience that will find meaning and significance (and perhaps even comfort?) in my work; while on the opposite end of the spectrum, I want to challenge, to stand in the face of an oppressive, violent world and let it be known that I will not be silenced, and I will not be erased.
