I listened to the ripping, tearing, crumpling and cutting overpowering the jazz flowing out of my TA's iPod. Normally, these sounds wouldn't affect me; I was in an art class, after all. Noise is a process of transformation, a necessary element in the progression of art. But sometimes, transformation can lead to destruction.
I walked into class the morning of Sept. 23 prepared to discuss my interpretation of transformation. For me, transformation is simply an evolution, yielding both positive and negative results. Women often transform their physical appearance through plastic surgery and cosmetics. Children transform into adolescents via puberty then transform into adults through maturation. Lovers transform their emotions through attachment and adoration.
While there are many forms of transformation, I was shocked and somewhat appalled when my art professor Bob Siegelman introduced the day's project. A novel was distributed to each student in the 12-person class. The only instruction was to transform the books.
Wanting to eventually write a novel of my own, I couldn't even fathom the possibility of mutilating another person's work. It can take years for writers to develop and create material for works of fiction, history and information. How could I possibly destroy that? I know when I publish my first novel I won't want some art class to use my pages for something other than reading.
I voiced my opinion, and Siegelman responded that "transformation does not mean destruction."
But transformation can mean destruction. Katrina transformed New Orleans from a vibrant city into a place one can only envision in nightmares.
Despite my irritation, I understood Siegelman's objective. He wanted us to throw away our concept of "things" and explore beyond what we know something to be. Instead of seeing a book, he aimed for us to see an object that could be used for other purposes, such as a sculpture or a memory box.
Using my sympathy for the victims of the hurricane, however, I decided to transform my book into a gift: I wrapped my Nora Roberts novel in white paper, then took four extra books and wrapped those as well. I finally put them in a box with the intent to send the books as forms of entertainment to the people who have nothing left.
I talked with Siegelman, trying to explain my problem with altering perfectly good books into new forms of art. While Siegelman respected my opinion, he said "in a way, [the books] have been rescued. They were meant to be recycled."
Siegelman "rescued" the 16 books from a recycling bin in Newbury, NH. "It's a free place to get materials for projects," he said.
The purpose of the project was to explore transformation. As I walked around the room, viewing my classmates' formations, I must admit I was impressed.
Junior Valeria Arias, for example, devised a large piece where she used her book's ripped pages as a canvas and connected the colorful fragments to various objects with tape and wire.
"At first, I felt really guilty [about] tearing out the pages," Arias said. But after learning that the books were found in a dumpster, she "decided to make something out of it."
Senior Kyle Jacobson, on the other hand, dedicated his creation to the novel's author, Barbara Bradford. He turned the book "Her Own Rules" into a "book of the dead." By employing clay, red paint and glue, he created a piece in response to hardships experienced with past girlfriends.
Senior Maya Ferrin transformed her novel into a sanctuary by placing the book covers knee-length apart on a burlap mat. She then crumpled the pages and used them as a point of focus for meditation.
Although the pieces were remarkable, I kept to my initial gift idea. I hope to evolve this transformation into a book drive for the victims of Katrina. If anyone is interested in launching this project, please contact me via e-mail.
