Creative Threads. Jon Barnes

they just had to have huge metal shiny cars with big fins. I think the ‘59 Eldorado is the ultimate expression of the era’s fin obsession and has some fantastic lines. I can draw those fins from memory. Great car. Brings tears to my eyes seeing it in red.

      Lamborghini Countach

      This is quite possibly the coolest car ever. EVER. Produced well ahead of its time, the Countach has some of the most distinct lines in any car. Find me a car that’s even close to this one. There’s nothing. The Countach’s hood slopes down like it’s about to shovel inferior supercars cars out of the way. It has gigantic air intakes on the sides. It has doors that flip up, and that back when you couldn’t buy a $300 kit and make the doors on your Chevy Cobalt do this. It was unique. One of a kind. The coolest.

      1964 Chevy Impala

      Let me first say that the stock ‘64 Impala is a nice machine. It’s a clean ‘60s car. But add some hydraulics and mesmerizing candy apple metal flake paint with a purple velour interior and you’ve got yourself a lowrider my friends! Yes, the classic ‘64 Impala lowrider with full hydraulics, paint and West Coast interior is, to this day, one of my favorite cars of all time. Now, no two of these cars are alike but when you drop one to the ground and cruise it slow down the boulevard with some occasional sparks out the back, well... that gets my heart beating real fast. This is a great car.

      Look, I could go on forever but here’s the thing. Cars have always been my thing. Specifically, drawing cars. I never cared too much about the mechanics or doing engine work but I really REALLY loved to draw cars. I drew them everywhere from the time I was a wee little kid all the way up through junior high and high school. Once I knew that there were actual careers out there where you could design the cars of the future, I was sold. That was my one and only career path, the only thing I intended to do both in my schooling and future profession.

      I have cars sketched on my school notes.

      I have cars sketched on my shoes.

      I have cars sketched on huge pieces of paper from art class.

      I have cars sketched on my car. In paint.

      Car design was my thing. Everyone around me knew it was my thing. I remember the day when the light bulb really went on for me. Somehow I saw an ad for this course where someone would teach you how to design cars. It included a long fold-out car design sketch (done in blue ink), and an instructional VHS tape (It’s like a brick that plays a video) with sketching and rendering instructions on the process. My parents ordered it for me in the mail and when it came I just about lost my mind. I can’t remember the person or name of it but to that guy, wherever you are, thanks a bunch. That’s when I felt the feeling of being a car designer.

      Car designer. It made sense to pursue this as a profession. I remember in High School sitting in class hearing about applying to colleges and deciding on a major and just not connecting with the struggle. Why? Because there are only 2 or 3 automotive design schools in the country and the major is, well... automotive design.

      I had 1 major in mind. I applied to 1 school. 1 time.

      No back up plan, no other schools to pursue, no other majors of interest. But you know what? I got in. I was accepted. Easy as pie!

      Now if you’re reading this far you’ve got to be wondering if you just got tricked. “Isn’t this a book about not knowing what you want? This guy seems like he has it all figured out!” Don’t worry, I’ll break everything down in the next chapter.

      Keep reading.

      Summary: Some people have a “thing” and others don’t. That’s ok.

      Brain Dump: What do your friends and family think you’re good at? Have they suggested careers or majors that they think would be a good fit for you? If so, what?

      I’m going to college!

      Remember in the introduction where I mentioned fuzzy toilet seats? I’ll tell that story to you here in this chapter, just wait for it. But first, the wonderful world of college. Now you may have gone through (or be going through), a much bigger set of decisions and stress about choosing a school, paying for school, room and board, etc. Depending on how early your parents started saving for college, your budget, what’s in your home state, etc., you may have a much different pathway to your particular school. Or you may be hitting pause on the college thing or skipping it altogether. That’s ok.

      There are few experiences you’ll ever have that are as exciting and nerve-wracking as college. You’ll move in all your junk to your dorm room, your parents will cry and take awkward pictures of you in front of the school sign, they’ll drive away, you’ll take a breath and then say to yourself...

      WHAT. AM. I. DOING?

      Here’s the bottom line about college. It’s amazing. Overnight you are suddenly a new version of you; a new, singular, responsible, independent, double-the-awesome version of you. Instantly. Now for some, this is empowering. You are going to do great with your newfound freedom and really come into your own, step into a new version of your life with poise. For others, this can be a hard time. Without anything connecting you back to the home and life you’ve known your entire life, you kind of freak out.

      And that’s to be expected. But here’s the thing about college. You have to push through the freak outs to get to the good stuff. And you’ll do it quickly, don’t worry. Here are just a few memories and experiences that I had during my first few months at art school, a good 800 miles away from my parents and every other human being on the earth that already knew me.

      I remember going to art school thinking I was “the best” at drawing cars. Because out of everyone in my high school, I was the best. But ten minutes into my first class I met about 20 other students exactly my age who were about 1000 times better than me. Reality check. I was not the best car artist on the planet. In fact, I felt like my work was junk. That was a tough day.

      At my art school we had apartments instead of dorm rooms. I remember a week or two into the school year when my 2 other roommates and I got back from a grocery run. We had just finished putting all the food away and I slowly closed the refrigerator, admiring the brightly glowing stacks of soda cans that filled at least 3 of the 5 shelves. I felt ridiculously powerful being in total control of my food. And full of sugar.

      I remember watching junior and senior students draw. My mind exploded. I learned so much by just watching them. I picked up things in those first few weeks that I had never even thought of, techniques and materials that were new and amazing. When I used these tools and techniques myself I felt... like a rock star.

      Our apartment was on the 12th floor. You could see for miles in every direction. It was in Detroit and every now and then we’d see smoke off in the distance. We’d grab our video camera and go chase it. Film whatever it was. Eat at White Castle. Drink more soda. It was bizarre and magical. It was classic art school.

      I had always been a late night person. I didn’t do mornings so much but could stay up late easily and plow into my creative work past 11, 12, 1, 2 or 3am without any trouble. This powerful creative rhythm was my time and apparently at art school, everyone embraced this rhythm. I finally felt like I was among my people. Time had no meaning, the floors in our apartment were constantly active and full of creative activity.

      I remember one day I was about to take the stairs to go to class. A piece of paper was stuck to the door with a handwritten note in black marker. “Use at your own risk.” Later I found out it was because someone had tried to take their own life and there was blood on the walls. They were fine but left the school after that. That was a moment that made me really think about the kinds of struggles that people could have so close to me.

      I remember stopping on the highway to pick up car bumpers that had been torn off cars during collisions. We mounted these bumpers in our apartment. It was “art.”

      I remember microwaving all my meals and eating a ton of hot dogs. I remember on a whim buying some sort of blackened tuna patty thing in a box. And then microwaving it. That was the last time I bought a fish-related food item on purpose.