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Unveiling the Inner Artist: InterArts Cabinet of Curiosity

Jenna Larson

Jenna Larson is a writer, singer, and sometimes a messy mixture of both. Her primary passion at the moment is poetry, but she enjoys experimenting in all forms of creative writing. She loves theatre and misses it greatly, but due to the pandemic, it has been difficult to express herself in that medium. She also enjoys video making and hopes to work on that more consistently whenever inspired by an idea. Jenna is currently a first year student at Trinity college and enjoys discovering fellow artists while completing her studies. She hopes to become a publisher one day so she can further explore her love of reading and collaboration.

Find a gallery of Jenna's creative writing from the fall 2020 semester below.

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The End of Innocence
By Jenna Larson
Something I think should be included in our InterArts Cabinet of Curiosity is part of a collection at the Wadsworth museum titled: “The End of Innocence: Childhood Torments in the Contemporary Arts Collection.” The Wadsworth museum shows off this collection on their website and includes the names and creators of each piece in it. One object that specifically stuck out to me is by Vanessa German. It is titled: Tar Baby On Pig With “N” and it was created in 2011. The reason this odd piece of art stuck out to me is the fact that one part of its creation is “found objects”, including beads, cloth, and plugs. To me, it embodies the idea of making something out of nothing, which can be done with random, found objects. The End of Innocence exists to pull back the curtain and make people aware of the more traumatic parts of childhood. It is not always innocent or dream-like. For example, the “tar baby” is in reference to the Uncle Remus stories by Joel Chandler Harris. His stories are thought to be based on African folklore and may be considered offensive because of how they portray black stereotypes. The collection describes how it represents children dealing with issues such as racism, bullying, and poverty, among others. Many children are forced to become adults at an early age because of things going on in their life they may barely understand yet. This is a powerful message that I believe is worthy of our own cabinet.

While this collection has a more dark and serious tone, at first glance I was inspired by simply the idea of childhood being used in our cabinet. We’ve been talking in class a lot about the Watkinson Library, and I’m always brought back to childhood when I think of libraries. They have been a staple in my life, but my first memories of libraries come from visiting them as a child. My love of books today was greatly impacted by school and public libraries. In fact, the poem I created for this assignment was inspired by a novel.
This innocent outlook on the piece is definitely a juxtaposition to what the message really is. However, while it is important to understand and recognize why certain pieces of art were made, I believe inspiration can come from anywhere and everywhere, and it doesn’t always have to make the most sense. It goes to show that you can make connections in your mind in a multitude of ways, and art often helps people do that. I find that also in the idea of a “found object”. You can find inspiration from an object that may have nothing to do with what you create. The things we find in places like libraries and museums can have a great effect on us and stick with us for years. I think taking one piece and including it in our cabinet will keep the theme of childhood innocence, even without the entire collection. To me, this is an important and impactful concept and would make a great addition to our cabinet.
A Flower for Jenna
By Summer LoPriore
My gift for Jenna is a watercolor painting I created of a daffodil. Reflecting upon the associations I have when thinking about Jenna immediately conjured images of first arriving to campus. I arrived to campus about a month after everyone else as I was apprehensive during what was still the uncertain onset of the Coronavirus. When I decided to come in October, I was kept company by the warm reception of my quad mates, Jenna being one of them. I ate dinner every night with Jenna and her friends for a few weeks after first arriving at Trinity. I thought about this idea of lightness and hope at the beginnings of things (referring to the inception of my time at Trinity and Jenna supplying kindness and an excitement for the future) and wanted to make an object which reflected it as a sort of token of my gratitude in the form of a gift. Too, I have been greatly inspired in the recent weeks by the blossoming flowers peppered around campus, as well as the sun and warm weather which have accompanied them. These flowers, budding and growing in the springtime air, are another iteration of the concept of hope at the beginnings of things. After a long winter, spring brings a resurrection of the idea of growth, and the plants which flower all around us now are at the beginning of their lives. To evoke this idea of the flowers growing around campus, the setting which connects Jenna and I, I cut the watercolor from its background as if it was picked from the ground for her. I also attempted to create a concave shape by folding in the sides of each petal to attribute the flower a further sense of life.
When I created this object, I felt an internal release. I was playing loud music; my window was open, flooding my space and my lungs with spring-infused, fresh air, and I was painting for the first time in a long time. I do not feel entirely confident in my ability to paint outside of abstract painting often done to supplement collage. Due to this fact, coupled with the time and effort that it requires, I have, as I said, not painted in a long time. Further, even the more recent painting I have done has not come from a center of joy. Most of my collages are rather dark. However, this experience was truly one of light, happiness, and appreciation. Undergoing the known practice of painting in a newfound manner to me in this moment, I believe, really gets at the core of curiosity. It reminded me of the walk that I took and the way that, even marginally, I see the campus differently now as I traverse its paths every day. My paintbrushes and water jar are right on my desk, my watercolors in my drawer. Every day, all the materials to create something are within reach. It was a nice reminder of the capacity for reality to break from its monotony and forge something new even out of the same materials surrounding you all the time.
Cabinet of Clichés
By Jenna Larson
Throughout the semester, we have been reflecting on failure and an artist’s inherent need for perfection. For too long, I have viewed failure as something to avoid and resent rather something to learn from. No one improves on anything without the occasional failure, especially in art. As a writer, I always hope to stand out, or at least apart, from other writers. I want my original voice to shine through and make an impact. In writing and sharing my work, it is clear to see that it is difficult for your voice to stand out when you don’t know it yet. So much of writing and art is trial and error. For every beautiful poem or story I’ve written, there have been countless ugly ones. The trick is realizing that those ugly ones were still worth writing. I wouldn’t be able to recognize my good work without my bad work. Although art is subjective and what I think is terrible might speak to someone else, I see my work getting more creative and sophisticated over time. That’s exactly why I decided to write the worst poem I could for my final project! After all, writing is about enjoyment and self expression, and if I constantly ignore that in trying to make something perfect, I’ll lose that curiosity that made me love writing in the first place. Maybe it’s the burnout, but at this point in the semester I’d rather make something less meaningful and silly than try to be so profound that I stress myself out. This poem feels like the perfect exercise in what not to do in poetry, which in a way says more about my skill set than other writings I’ve done. I am able to recognize what I enjoy in poetry and do well by doing the exact opposite. I thought a cabinet of clichés was one of the best ways to do so:

Cabinet of Clichés

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
And so are you

The waves crash on the sand
The sun beats down
I can’t wait for us
To ditch this small town

We’ll drive away
At the speed of light
Fit as a fiddle
In the dark of the night

You’re a stroke of perfection
A diamond in the rough
You’ll be there for me
When things get tough

I’m there for you
When things get hard
When the cat has your tongue
And fear haunts you like a graveyard

While all that glitters isn’t gold
With every change in season
As autumn leaves start falling down
I’ll love you without reason

Every cloud has a silver lining
I feel it in my core
Time can heal all wounds
Though all is fair in love and war

Your hand I will hold
Come high water or hell
Working for what we love
All’s well that ends well.

We are broken.
We are cliché.
But we grow together,
Come what may.

The research component of this object came from looking up every cliché in the book. Every line or simile I’ve tried to avoid in the name of originality is combined in this piece. There’s a type of freedom that came with writing this. I got to be as uncreative and carefree as possible. A line has been used to death? I’ll throw that one in here. It was a piece I worked on over time, and I think that was primarily because of how much I try to avoid clichés, even though they’re technically present in my life. It was a challenge to let myself be free to make mistakes and not try to correct them. This poem has no punctuation anywhere which is one of my biggest pet peeves in poetry. Along with that, I chose a very simple and commonly used rhyme scheme. Poetry is not supposed to ignore the rules of grammar and sentence structure just because it’s poetry, but to use and work with those rules to make a greater impact. However, writing this made me realize maybe it isn’t so wrong to ignore the rules and focus on what inspires you rather than what people say is good poetry.
A Wooden Ship for Dionne
By Jenna Larson
When I thought about the type of gift I want to give Dionne, I knew I wanted to find something inspiring on our campus. Considering I met Dionne at Trinity, it felt the most fitting. Our tour of the chapel inspired me greatly because of how many details were reflective on collegiate life and friendships. Everything in the chapel feels so grand and detailed, you feel like you’ll never run out of things to look at. To me, no matter what you look at, you retain something. That’s how it feels getting to know Dionne. She is such a truthful, energetic, and inspiring person that I have loved getting to know. But I know I’ve only scratched the surface. Like the chapel, I know there’s so much more to Dionne to get to know, and I hope I am able todo that throughout our time together at Trinity. It felt like there were a million and one choices for an object in the chapel, and in a way there is. I don’t think I could ever know every nook and cranny of the chapel, and that’s one of the things I like most about it. Everywhere I looked, I found something new to admire, which is definitely another similarity to getting to know Dionne. I was most struck by the carvings on every pew. The detail they each carried was absolutely fascinating and admirable. The object I chose is the wood carving of a ship on one of the pews.

I think it is very easy to forget how difficult it must have been to create the smallest details that make up our beautiful chapel. The craftsmanship that is required to make something of that beauty is beyond compare. In addition, those details are everywhere. Every pew, the carvings lining the top of the altar, the doors, everything has such detail and meaning. This ship is what I was sitting next to while listening to the beautiful organ fill the room. I found that music so inspiring, and I appreciated having such beauty to look at. This wood carving of a ship is incredibly detailed and beautiful. There is so much to admire within this one, tiny piece of the chapel. It has sails feigning being pushed by the wind, ropes going from top to bottom, and a strong bow. It is the picture perfect boat. I can easily imagine it being blown up to be full sized and put in the ocean. It has a familiarity to it while also sparking curiosity in me. It looks just how I picture a pirate ship from movies of my childhood, however the act of making it fascinates me deeply. I know it is far too complicated a task to just pick up and do. Someone worked extremely hard to create something that may go unnoticed by the masses. When I recognize something like that, I do my best to give it the appreciation it deserves. The same could be said for people. So many people fly under the radar, never getting the appreciation they deserve. That’s what ultimately inspired me to gift this object to Dionne. I want her to know that she is seen by someone and appreciated, even if she doesn’t realize it.
Snowy Owls
By Jenna Larson
I began my research for this prompt by simply poking around the outside of the Watkinson Library on campus. Due to the pandemic, all the doors are shut and locked and the lights are off. It was a little upsetting to me at first because I feel like I could have gained a lot from physically exploring the library. I think walking around a library can be very therapeutic and inspirational if you look at it the right way. Although I couldn’t go inside the library, there are still some pieces of art on display outside. There’s a lovely project that I believe was done by a student that looked like something I want to create one day. Ultimately, I think I needed just a little spark of creativity. Simply looking at art in its physical form is something I haven’t done in a really long time, and I didn’t realize how much I missed it. After looking at the art on the walls, I felt more motivated to do my virtual research. I began by looking up the Watkinson and seeing if I could find any collections that stuck out tome. I thought, because I am primarily a writer, that I would want to reflect on a piece of written work. However, in my research I found all these prints of a variety of birds. I was struck by them and the familiarity of them. Birds are around me all the time at home because of the bird feeders my dad tends to. He loves seeing birds from the kitchen window, so I have naturally become so used to having them around. The piece “Snowy Owl” by John James Audubon is the one that struck the biggest chord with me. I love owls and find them so powerful and fascinating which inspired me to write a poem about the two owls on the tree.

Both owls have a certain personality in my mind which inspired me to write a stanza about each of them with a repeating rhyming couplet to connect them. The phrase “Winter Night Spirit” came to me almost out of nowhere as I was thinking of a title. The snowy owls clearly make me reminisce on the winter season and owls are known as wise creatures of the night, so putting those ideas together just made sense to me. The poem is brief, but I feel like it says all it needs to. I essentially took out what I thought to be the most important words in the passage describing the piece and rearranged them into a poem. In my eyes, this print could be hung up with my poem right below or beside it as the description. This fits into our idea of curiosity as well because people are so used to seeing factual, clear descriptions accompanying pieces of art. However, bridging to mediums and having a piece of literary work describe a visual art piece makes in all the more beautiful in my mind. People take in different types of art differently. Therefore, someone may feel more connected to my poem and be able to make an image in their mind, or people may feel that the image speaks entirely for itself. The beautiful thing about combining these pieces is that they work well separately as well as together.

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