Experiments

How did I get here?

I started off with a western. 

It was really good.

I made letters for experiment 2.

I liked it better.

Now you can see the full project.

I realized its potential.

I made it work.

Yay!

Origin Piece

Tony Liu

ENGL209

Orientation Task #3

A Greedy Blanket

There are possessions that people would sacrifice their safety for. Items like these are prized possessions. The possession may be a new car, a figurine, or even a certain paper weight. These items contain both the emotion and pride of the owner which gives them a greater value than other objects they own. Objects like those are often placed in safe and secure areas where everyone can view them. In fact, the centerpiece of my room is a cheaply made blanket in my room. It is a white cotton blanket with an image printed on the front side. The back is a matted, rough layer of cotton that almost scratches me when I rub my hand on it. The front of the blanket is a lot smoother with a velvet texture and lively colors. The image is a replica of the art of a card called pot of greed. It is a large pot with one blue handle on the left side. The pot has multiple protrusions and a little Egyptian themed art on the top of the pot. The most distinctive feature is the malicious smiling face with large red lips and gross yellowish teeth. In all honesty, the art looks atrocious and unnerving, but I can’t help but feel a warm welcoming smile when I see it. The pot of greed blanket holds a special place in my heart despite sounding like a worthless item. It was a gift from one of my best friends who used to be as elusive and shy as an unicorn. During middle school, Angel had always secluded himself without going out to talk to the other kids in class. The shock from moving from Lansing to a small city called Iron Mountain shook him up a little. He did not know how to introduce himself to my peers and failed to find subjects that they could talk about. The culturally diverse school that he was in felt completely different from a school filled with nice Italian or Polish people. It was not until freshman year when he finally broke the ice with me. In my attempts to talk to him, I found that I enjoyed many of the same video games as he did. The anchor point of common interests was solidified and he became more comfortable talking with me. Soon after, I introduced him to a trading card game called Yu-Gi-Oh where it completely broke all barriers I had with him. We started calling each other on the regular basis to play the game and talk about different decks. It eventually became a common part of my life to duel a few times a week. It truly is wonderful to have a friend that loved a certain interest as much as I did. Unfortunately, these days did not last too long. He became more occupied with homework and started working at three different jobs. The time I could spend with him disappeared within the thin air around me. What used to be a call every day became a call every month. The only thing I heard from him at one point was the amount of tests he wanted to take. I was saddened by the fact that he had his own life to deal with, but I accepted this nonetheless. All of a sudden, I heard a notification during what sounded like radio static. A message finally appeared from my best friend Angel. He said meet up at a certain place during Christmas. I gladly drove off to the location and saw him there. He held a large package in his frigid hands and handed me a gift. It was revealed to be a blanket with the image of my favorite card on it. I was relieved to see him again after all this time. Currently, I still do not see him too often. I try to talk to him when I get the chance to, but our plans usually fail. No matter what tribulations our friendly relationship goes through, I will always remember the blanket with an evil grin on its face.

Experiment 1

A Greedy Grip

A young fella stood in front of my front porch like he was steeling himself for a battle. He had manure brown skin, matted black hair, a vest with apple sized holes, and jeans dirtier than the ground beneath him. To his right was a parked buggy with its wheels digging into the semi-wet grass of my yard which missed the road clearly flattened for use next to it. His horses had yellow pale fur which accompanied their scrawny malnourished bodies. Hell, the buggy he brought looked like it was assembled by a blind man. It was marred with structural inconsistencies and an unfinished base platform for the cargo. There were three large boxes anchored down with an assortment of ropes wrapped around the fence-like walls of the buggy. The black painted boxes were oddly pristine. Not even a nick or any dust piling on the top of them. I didn’t care for any of that though. I want him off my yard. 

I was on my way home with a bag of firewood slung on my padded shoulder. I approached him making a racket as the wood tumbled in my bag. The heels of my glossy leather boots struck the ground boldly with each step. There was a rhythm to the wood and my foot,  “Tuk Clung Tuk Clung Tuk Clung…” Surprisingly, The kid didn’t notice. He kept his eyes locked on the door and sweaty back towards me, though his horses were eying me like a bale of hay. Once I got a breath’s distance from him, I thought to myself, “What is he? An Egg? Sure has the situational awareness of one.” I quietly put my bag down and a smile began to form on my face showing the top row of my yellowish teeth. I slapped my right hand on his skinny shoulder and lightly put my left on top of the worn holster resting on my thigh and well-loved gray trousers. 

“Quite a pretty sight, Eh?” I proclaimed. The young fella drew a quick breath and flicked his head around. He was immediately met with a mouthful of glittering contempt from my face. His malachite green eyes darted to my firearm and then to the steps of my front porch.

He whispered, “Yes sir, it’s quite pretty indeed.” It seemed that this kid wasn’t as dull as I expected. He was as oddly calm as if he knew that I wasn’t going to do anything to him. 

I explained, “I built this place with a few of my friends a long time ago.” I pointed to the steps in his line of sight, “That ain’t my work, though. I do most of the uh… inside stuff.” As I waved my left hand to dismiss that thought, I shook his shoulder with the iron talons of my right hand, "Forget about all that, child. Mind telling me who you are after moving your buggy off my lawn?” I roughly spun him around and gave him a shove. 

Without a word, he lifted himself up on the bench-like seat of the vehicle and steered his way to the expansive dirt road he somehow missed. After the clicking of hooves halted, he hopped off and briskly walked up to me with an assertive gait. He put his hand out for a shake, smiled, and declared, “I’m Leven Mendoza I...”

I cut him off, blurting, “Mendoza?” I left his hand to hang in the air for a minute. The only thing that followed was deafening silence without even a lick of wind. Soon, he put his hand down and stared directly into my eyes about a foot above him. I was a bit unnerved.

Breaking the silence, he continued, “Yeah hehehe! I am Leven Mendoza, the son of Angel Vanegas-Mendoza and Mckenley Buchanan.” Scratching the back of my head, I lost my arrogant smirk and began to listen closely. “My dad told me to find ya. He passed around five months ago. My mom passed away a day after.” Leven paused and rubbed beneath the tip of his nose with his index finger. “They told me that I’d find good work if I came here. They left me some stuff and a package for you. It is in the buggy.” 

“Oh,” That was all that I could conjure.

Leven said, “My dad said that he wanted to give you something.” I could only sigh deeply in response. Leven warmly added, “Give me a second, I’ll go get it for ya.” He jogged to the side of the buggy and untied the hemp rope in the middle in the middle of the three. Once he finished, he got on top and took off the thick wooden cover revealing a layer of red velvet protective cloth layered on top of the items in the box. He slowly set the cover down, making a heavy thunk making me believe that it probably weighed around forty to fifty pounds. Then he took something out.

He held an ornate wooden case in his hands. It was about two by four feet long, with each panel inlaid with bones as white as snow. They were shaped as furling ferns gliding across brick walls which were carved deep into the dark spruce wood. Straight silver lines walked down the joints smoothly giving light to the dreary case. The lines converge at a diamond shaped plate with a two inch keyhole. The lock seals the cover down to the body preventing anything trickling into the case. Displayed on top of the cover was a collection of carved pottery each a different width and height. Detailed faces depicting crying, despair, stoic solitude, disgust, hatred, and godly fear were ingrained in each of the seven pots. To others, the facial muscles and precise hair follicles welled repugnant disgust. To me, their tears gave me comfort.