The Art of Sophia Dawson

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1. How have you and your work grown since our last interview in 2006?
Art IS a growing experience so myself and my work has definitely grown and changed. For one I paint larger (at least 6ft in height) for each piece. With more time and practice my style has definitely changed and I have developed new techniques in approaching each piece. I am able to work both from life and photography now and am using these aspects in all of my latest work. Most importantly I am beginning to develop a sort of narrative and story behind my work that means something to me. Before I was just making paintings to please other people.

2. Describe your most exciting, challenging, and worthwhile experiences at the School of Visual Arts?
This semester at least once a week my class of about seven students spend our three hours walking around new york city and looking at art in galleries/ museums/ etc. It put me in the position to finally begin to pay attention the prospering artists of my time. I have been exposed to so many different possibilities of what art is and can become. I am also now able to appreciate different artists of different genres and backgrounds.

3. What are your goals after graduation from SVA?
After graduating from SVA I plan to get my Masters in Fine Arts and also to do commission work making large powerful murals in public and popular spaces. INCLUDING THE WHITE HOUSE!!!

4. What was your inspiration for Wet Paint? What was your experiences at the opening?
Wet paint is a dedication to my God Mother Leslie Macayza Wages. She was a beautiful and well respected model of the eighties and also one of my role models. Unfortunately about three years ago she was incarcerated and the work deals with both her and my struggle as a growing woman. Though Leslie is locked up, in her mind she is FREE.”as free as she has ever been”. WET PAINT deals with the idea that this woman’s life is not over, but has rather just begun. The paint is still wet.

5. How do you see your work evolving within the next five years?
Within the next five years I see myself continuing to paint and using other women and men that inspire me and motivate me to do my best in life. I will begin to incorporate photography, video, and the digital world into my art to allow it to grow and become more than just paint on a canvas.

6. How do you see you work influencing others?

The message behind my work is definitely my key weapon in influencing others. My goal is to change the lives and minds of people so that they can understand that their destiny is not left up to chance but it is a matter of choice.

Short Story: The Scream

By Dorothy Davis
My body floated from between limbo and reality. The sudden screeching of tires echoed as I drifted into darkness. Then a scream. Then silence. The buzzing of people awoke me and my eyes fluttered open. I was no longer in the car, though I could not recognize my surroundings at the current moment. Besides the constant racket being made by the gathering outside, an annoying tinkering was rushing across my forehead. I thought it was normal for this headache to occur, it happened practically all the time.  Then I heard it. the whimpering.  It was small, quiet, and had the crowd been any louder, I would never have heard it. I craned my neck to the side and noticed my older sister opposite of me. absorbed in her silent whimpers. “Camilla, why are you upset?” She only looked at me with her
tear stained face as if I were dead. I couldn’t understand.

Why was she so upset? What caused her such distress? She was fine this morning. Suddenly, my eyes traveled to her hand which was covered in bandages. A weird feeling began to gather in my stomach, as if I was falling from thousands of feet in the air.

Just when I was going to ask where she got the bandages from, my eyes began to adjust to my new setting. The stretcher, the needles, the stethoscopes, and the other medical objects all spelled it out way to clearly for me. I was lying on a stretcher in an ambulance with my sister staring down at me. and my father was no where in sight.

“What happened?” was all I could utter.

“Well, well, aren’t you girls happy?” My father leaned on our doorway with his arms crossed and a broad grin spread across his face. Camilla and I groggily pulled ourselves out of bed from a long and most wondrous sleep. The clock told us that it was way passed the time we

were supposed to be in school. Camilla, being the eldest, was in the fourth grade while I was in the second. Since we both went to the same school, we both were well aware of its strictness on latecomers. Sensing our worries, our father suggested a visit to Uncle Glen.  Glen wasn’t our real uncle, but our love for him made itreal. So we accepted. After fighting each other to get in the shower and getting dressed, our father led us to the family car. This car was the best car we could ever own. It wasn’t because it was the most popular model of its year or anything like that. The car was reliable, never stalled or gave trouble at all. I never got sick when riding in it (considering the fact that I have a bad case of motion sickness).

There was so much space inside even though the exterior looked tiny. As strange as it sounds, the car was. apart of the family. Just like any pair siblings, Camilla and I started bickering. The shotgun of a car seemed so important back then and I wanted to sit there. Obviously, Camilla wanted the seat just as bad. The fight
ended with our father saying we could both sit in the front since we were so small. I despised the idea, thought it was the worst solution and was ready to protest at all measures. However, common sense told me that it would be a complete waste. My father’s decision was final, but in my mind, I wasn’t going to lose to my sister. I squeezed into the middle. Although the passenger seat was only meant for one person, it was quite roomy. I immediately felt comfortable and began to doze off, but then jerk back awake.

The car carried us farther and further. Earth, Wind, and Fire was  jammin’ on the radio. My father turned up the volume and sang along. I looked at him and smiled. A lot’s been going on in the family for the past two years, things not worth saying. However, I watched him swell up in his good mood and just couldn’t
help. smiling. I turned my head and saw Camilla nodding to the music. She could be a huge pain from time to time. It would make anyone want to smack her. She was always the mature one and always had a mother-ish side to her. Then again, when it all came down to who was there and who would watch my back, I couldn’t think of anyone but her. Her eyes swerved towards me and found me starring at her. Instead of saying, “What are you looking at?!” or “God, your so annoying!” she smiled I returned her one. I suddenly felt a warm glow inside and convinced myself that from now on, everything was going to be okay.
I began to drift into a peaceful world when I heard the echoes of screeching tires.
Then the scream.

Poetry

Love

By Gianni Francis, Age 15

Values is like a poem of love,
I love my mother I love my brother I love a
girl,
I love to love.
I love my work but not so much,
I love to see what my life can be when I turn
my life
around,
But I still love a girl,
I love to love.
I love my mother with all my heart
I love my brother nothing can tear us apart
I love a girl,
I want her to be my own to have and to
hold,
I love them I love them I love to love

American Dream

By Gianni Francis, Age 15

I think you should learn the dream
it doesn’t come easy but you will see
the american dream
I think the dream is more than one
It is money, houses, and a good job
When you have money you rule
When you have a house you’re cool
When you have a job you don’t have to Rob
That’s the American Dream or so it seem
That’s what they mean

Dark Rain

By Sade Smith, Age 15 Queens Gateway H.S

Black tears fall from the sky
Piercing my soul
Leaving pain
A sting that will never leave
Forever wounding me
Dark rain
Leaving sadness in its wake
Piercing innocent souls
Countless lives.
Endless lives
Forever wounding me

Perfect By Nature

By Sade Smith, Age 15 Queens Gateway H.S

Flawless describes her words
Graceful describes her movements
Why is she so perfect to you?
Can’t you see she’s fooling you?
You’re a pawn in her game
A useless covering for her own purposes
Beyond her beauty outside
A devil slumber’s inside
They say she’s perfect
Nothing fazes her
But I know she’s a fake.
Not even close to a saint
She seduces you with her curves and fast talk
But I can see beyond that
Beyond her sassy walk
Beyond her golden brow locks
She’s a black widow
Ready to kill her next lover
Every time she walks into the room
You must bow
Bow to her beauty
Stare at her gorgeous exterior
But I know her true self
Her ugly inner core
You say she’s perfect
Perfect by nature
But I know.
That that’s all a lie