When I got a new Samsung portrait TV, I thought it would be a fun way to show my paintings. Instead of staring at a blank black screen, I could project images of my paintings when the tv wasn’t on. What surprised me was discovering it also came with a whole library of artwork to explore.
One day as I scrolled through, a Van Gogh painting appeared that I had never seen before. Filling the screen, the bold, textured brushstrokes seemed so alive that I couldn’t stop staring. Even through a digital display, the energy came across loud and clear.
In that moment, I was taken right back to being fifteen, standing in the Brooklyn Museum’s huge Van Gogh exhibition. It was the first time I experienced how powerful paint could be, the way brushstrokes themselves carried emotion and movement. That memory has stayed with me ever since.
Later at UC Berkeley, I dove into studying Japanese woodblock prints, ukiyo-e, for my art history requirement. Only now do I fully realize how much those teenage experiences shaped me. The seeds were planted back then, seeds that grew into my own way of seeing, especially how I think about composition.
Now, seeing a Van Gogh unexpectedly appear on my TV feels like those seeds circling back into view. It’s a reminder that the influences we meet along the way stay with us, quietly shaping the work we go on to create.
Until next time,
Casey
