I WANTED TO BE AN ARTIST.
People destined to draw or tell stories fascinate me. Having the ability sketch onto paper what the eyes had seen is like magic and constructing entire worlds out of words is probably the closest example humanity has of descending from divinity.
And these people aren’t confined to what is seen or heard at that very moment. They’re able to recall, speculate, draft, conceive of things that don't exist. And as long as they steadily improve their knowledge, imagination, and senses, there isn’t a limit to what they can do.
…
I am 29 years old.
And it took me all 29 to realize why I focused on drawing and telling stories so much. They were the most obvious pathways I could have taken to become an—
ARTIST.
Heading Home, 2023
I have two brothers who draw and one who tells stories.
Now when I think of the traditional artist, meaning one who practices with common implements like graphite, charcoal, ink, or paint, my older brother Ted comes to mind. Even when he was young he made intricate drawings of landscapes, characters, and vehicles from his imagination. And if Ted was given the opportunity to draw by observation the finished piece would almost be an exact copy.
Ted never had to tell me that drawing was his calling. I already knew based on how many binders, sketch pads, and notebooks he would keep.
And then there’s Josh, my younger brother who followed in his footsteps but found his own raw approach. All he needed was a tool that could leave a mark. He’d fill sketchpads, our notebooks (without our consent), and our church’s tithe-and-offering envelopes with doodles during service.
He was a troublemaker; the good kind.
And just like any other visual artist, my youngest brother Ben wanted to leave the world something to experience. Except in the form of a story.
His desire to see what he imagined was so strong that it would cause him to manifest entire worlds word by word. But in order to keep those worlds alive he also had to have the perseverance to see their creation through.
It’s especially impressive since storytelling is a lonely craft.
To this day, I’m not the slightest bit surprised that he wants to write. Ben always had a talent for breaking films down into their individual parts and explaining complex histories in the simplest of terms.
…
As of now—
TED IS
Currently drafting comics and illustrating on the daily with ink.
I get excited with each update he sends my way; especially since his current project uses an old screenplay of mine.
JOSH IS
In the process of financing his Oddity clothing line by driving trucks cross-country.
It’s of no surprise to me that his brand utilizes that same playful, graphic art style I observed when we were young.
BEN IS
Focusing on finances, enjoying life for what it is, and staying physically fit.
I’m always looking forward to the stories he will tell. Nothing but new worlds await him.
And as for me—
RHONE SAMA IS
Putting together a photography blog and braving the long, arduous path of an artist.
I didn’t always have such a clear idea of what I wanted to do because back then I was—
LOST...
LOST...
Yes, I dabbled in drawing and wrote extensively to at least forge on ahead, but I couldn’t do them without having the dreadful feeling of knowing I had forced myself to do the tasks at hand. My desire to craft something like my brothers still far outweighed that dread though. So there had to be something I could do. But what?
Well, there was only one thing I knew how to do really well without giving it much thought—
WATCHING.
Cameraman, 2023
I watched my brothers draw and tell stories. I watched others through elementary, middle, and high school and retained as much information as my noggin could hold. I kept watching until it became emulation. And until I somehow landed in the sciences; the opposite end of where I truly wanted to be.
I felt like an imposter. One who’d watch manga, anime, horror, and play video games at home, when instead he should’ve been trying to legitimately understand the subjects he portrayed himself to excel at. I don’t know why I didn’t make an attempt to study art. Maybe it was the recognition I got from excelling at classes that meant nothing to me? Or maybe I actually began to believe that I should study STEM? Who knows…but once my days as a high schooler came to a close, I then made a decision to find my artistic path.
By choosing my kid self’s desire, I was able to go on an educational odyssey where architecture, computer science, graphic design, and filmmaking would build the foundation I needed to find it.
…
I didn’t care about the “elite” perception we as a society were conditioned to have about going to college. It was something intangible that I just couldn’t grasp the seriousness of. As a matter of fact, I can say with certainty that I took a gamble with my education when I went to Louisiana Tech University in 2013. To me, it didn’t matter where I went. My only criteria was to go somewhere far and find me.
I never toured the campus nor had I ever been to the city of Ruston. And besides a few others from high school, my close friend Davis was the only person I really knew from home.
The details on how we both got settled into campus life are too murky being that it happened so long ago, but what I do remember about our arrival to LATech was how fast my parents bolted home; us both being without a dorm for a week or so; navigating the campus with these ridiculously large maps; and us eventually going our separate ways after dropping out of engineering.
Before I made the switch though, I attended one class.
I remember the cacophony of constant chatter and the shuffling of chairs and papers; the passion those prospective engineers had; overhearing some dude bragging about an airplane he designed; and others speaking in physics jargon.
Believe that I wanted to—
RUN.
Chapel Exit, 2023
By God’s grace, I waited a lifetime for the professor to say, “Class dismissed” and hiked it to Keeny Hall.
Once I entered the building I had to kill any negative thoughts sprouting in my head like a fungus because for the first time in my life, I was going to choose the path of an artist. I snatched a catalog and browsed its list of liberal arts majors. I know it had to be something familiar to ease my way in and maybe just technical enough to assuage my mother’s confusion from my sudden decision.
I stopped on architecture, a perfect alternative for a compromise if my mother made a fuss.
…
It didn’t take long for me to understand that I didn’t exactly know what architecture was and that I was years behind without any foundation. It was like being dropped into a foreign country and thinking you know how to say “hello” in their native tongue.
For once I experienced difficulty from my own ignorance, and felt the terror of fatigue.
I had to fight against my inadequacy by absorbing data wherever I could: from those who were better and knew more than me; from books I’d find in the Prescott Memorial Library; and from the things I originally had a love for like video games, horror films, and Japanese culture.
I’d be up for hours drafting floor plans, elevations, sections, and isometric projections; and putting models together with my subpar craftsmanship. And time would fly and fly, and suddenly I’d be all alone in an empty studio where there was nothing but deafening silence and my stomach growling from hunger…I remember the envy I had felt on the mornings when I’d see students walk into the studio freshly showered, fed, and chipper.
Still, I pushed on until I had one
all-nighter that changed everything.
Towering Pines, 2023
I found a comrade who was just like me; a first year architecture student struggling to prove his worth.
He was my first real college friend, Lane Walters.
We cracked jokes. Chipped away at projects while I tried convincing him to watch anime. Bled when handling X-acto knives and because of us both being car-less, went on long walks to the downtown Fineline art supplies store to re-up.
It took us a while, but our craftsmanship did improve and we gained more friends over time. We even became a trio once we added Lane’s engineering roommate and undeniably my best travel buddy named David Berry to our campus adventures.
Our contour lines had variety, we thought critically about our concepts, and tried out different materials like cardstock, vellum, balsa wood, and bristol to expand our repertoire.
Within a year, architecture’s all-nighters and brutal yet informative critiques had formed the foundation I needed to endure the hardships of becoming an artist.
…
Next up was a six month stint where I believed that I could use my newly acquired artist knowledge to design video games.
My naivety took me to a programming-mathematics hellhole where my apparent passion for games was put to the test. I sat through classes wondering when I’d get to learn how to design characters, environments, and plot stories, but soon learned that what I had wanted to do was actually done by graphic design students who did collaborative projects with computer science students.
Luckily, LATech’s School of Design hosted a recruitment conference and I was convinced by the graphic design faculty’s presentation to change majors for my third and final time.
All of those months I spent in architecture and computer science were bootcamp.
…
Once I entered graphic design I was given homework, projects, and in-class demonstrations not too different from what I had already experienced: craftsmanship, drafting, planning, sketching, collaboration, and the conception of ideas into reality. And there were two codes taught to us by professors Tom Futrell, Jake Dugard, and Todd Maggio which I still hold dear—
1. Always be making.
2. Have attention to detail.
I was happy, thriving, and steered towards figure drawing, color theory, 3D design, woodshop, printmaking, bookmaking; and a filmmaking class where a whole new world was introduced to me.
My professor Frank Hamrick had let me borrow a Canon DSLR.
It kept me alert and saved me from boredom. And my ignorance on its functions had unintentionally helped me discover photography.
I sincerely believed that if I could teach myself how to shoot photographs, I’d be able to shoot good videos.
I rode my bike in the day and at night looking for something of note like the abandoned water facility downtown, the many archaic buildings on campus, or my apartment’s dark road. I’d ask strangers and close friends to let me snap them up. And when I was home I’d shoot photographs in New Orleans, make films with my brother Josh, and production assist in the New Orleans film industry until Covid-19 stopped the world.
I was super successful up to this point and cheered on by my family, but I had to admit to myself that the wonder I once had for filmmaking was beginning to fade when I didn’t have time to create.
Crushed Big Shot, 2023
I was worried. If the film industry wasn’t my artistic path, what was?
…
Motel Selfie and Portrait, 2023
Well, it was always there. It’s just that sometimes we have to get lost to get back on track and appreciate what we already had. Even while working in the film industry I was still taking photographs whenever I had some downtime. So here I am sticking to it with my camera in hand and—
WATCHING.
Fox Ears, 2023
