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Aging is Remembering Things Others Don’t

My husband and I just went to walk around Weber State University campus. Those kids are 20. They used to be babies. When I was attending at Weber State, many of them were entering kindergarten. Some of them look 30, so those were in 9th grade when I attended the University. 

We went to the library. Crazy full of memories. “This is where I used a thin piece of paper and made a 12 inch tall stand that held a brick longer than anyone else’s design,” I told my husband, pointing out a desk in the library on the too floor by the photography history books. That was for Amy Adams’ 3-D art class. We had fun pointing out where the Vax computers were located. My kids will never know what “Vax” means, and will never understand why we sould sneak around to find the hidden Vax computers in order to sneak onto the internet with our sneaky secret knowledge of early novice hacking.

We went to see the new Tracy Hall Science building. It was really cool. It is new this semester and just barely dedicated. We determined that they are still and un-packing. There are glass walls so you can see into the rooms. I loved the Eames-inspired contemporary furniture but Jeff did not appreciate it. Buildings 1, 2 and 3 were large parts of my life, but I was not as sad about losing those as I was about Lampros Hall.

Even though my husband has no memories of the Collett Art building, I forced him to follow me around in there. The entryway still smells of pencil lead and paint. Even though that made me happy, the fact that they removed all trace of the art legacy from that building made me upset. I know they have a new building and it is awesome, but the anger is still there. How can they change a place where I practically LIVED for 5 years of my life? How can they not care about my memories? 

We entered from the back. “This,” I whispered to my husband, ” was where we out our entries for exhibits.” He had no glimmer in his eye. He didn’t get it. How can he not feel what I feel? He has no memories of it. Entries. Do you know what that means? It means we laid our hearts and souls there for them to judge and then (most of the time for me) shun.

I walked up the stairs. “No art on display. How sad!” I mourned. “How can they do this to us?” I am laughing at myself now. How can I be upset about this and why am I upset about this? I am still trying to figure it out. I am not a psychologist. 

I looked to the other side. ‘There is where they had slides,’ I thought. “The professors’ rooms were over there,” I told my husband.

“Do you know how many classes I had in here?” he asked me. “One?” I guessed. “Zero,” he mocked. He told me his art appreciation class was in the Social Sciences building. 

After leaving there, disappointed in them for not preserving this home of mine from my past, we went home. Unable to sleep for the memories, I blog now. It saves my sanity so that hopefully Alzheimers won’t set in as soon. 

The first thing I did was to search for the Collett Art Building at Weber State University. Surely they have some memories preserved online! Indeed, they do not. What I did find was pretty cool, though.

There were many links to exhibits and one to “free community field trips” from the late nineties. This was the closest I came. I am surprised to know that Farrell Collett passed away while I was in my Senior year at Weber State and I had no idea about it then. Well, maybe I was slightly aware, but I did not really think about it or care too much. That makes me sad. Farrell Collett.

Then I started finding the people. I guess the people are what matter more than a building, anyway.

Jim Jacobs

Jim Jacob displays his art in Salt Lake City

I also found this, which was nice. The crazy thing is, these students are limited to being fascinated by his art and they do not feel the same way I do. They don’t love him. I just watch him and want to cry and run up and give him a hug. I just love this man. He cared about me so much. I feel so thankful for what he did for me. He defended me against a mean art professor when I refused to take the nude drawing class. He accepted me when I was a freshman and always smiled at me and talked to me. He had so much respect for me. There just aren’t words. A few years ago, I walked through the new art building with my daughter and he was there. I spoke with him and introduced him to my daughter. He recognized me and remembered me. Jim lectures a group of students about his own art through the years. 

Mark Biddle

Archived piece on Mark Biddle’s typorgraphical art and a photo of typography


Here is a page at Weber State, as he still teaches there. The photo on the page is a great example of what he looks like when he is upset with you. I can tell that when the photo was snapped, he was upset at whomever had dared to photograph him. 
I found this. I cannot believe I am the first person to review this professor at ratemyteachers.com. lol. Read my review of Mark Biddle here. 500 characters! They expect me to sum up my experience with Mark Biddle in so few words! He taught me most of my graphic design classes! Well, I get more space here because I am the boss here.

I went a few years back and visited. He did not seem to remember me. He had students there, though, and was busy with them. I suppose the tuition-paying people were more important than a person not paying tuition and showing her daughter around while laden with memories. 

I saw Mark Biddle in much if the design work in the hallway in the new building a few years ago. When he retires, if he ever does, the art in the hallways will change so much. A professor influences his students so much!

Mark would mosey and him-haw around the room trying not to stand in front of the work, but somehow always standing in front of the work anyway. He’d look at it casually as if he was trying not to notice and seeing which things he had no choice but to notice because they surprised him so. He would say nothing about it for himself then, and would say, “So, whadya think?” Then he’d look up at us, head tilted inquiringly, hands behind his back, laying on his worn-out jeans. Then he’d step aside, and we were to walk up there to the front and also look at everyone’s work. 

Nobody would dare speak up first, but eventually someone always did, of course. 

I am now remembering me as the only graphic designer (at the beginning) at Franklin Covey Coaching in 2001. I had to do this alone. I would pin my work up and stand back to look at it, trying to evaluate it from someone else’s perspective. I would call in others, including Mark (the editor). I would ask them, “Is there too much orange? Do the words stand out enough?” etcetera. 

I carried Mark Biddle’s personality with me when working with my own graphic design clients. When asking them whether they preferred this or that, it was just like being in class again, only I was pleasing people who were not artists, but business owners. That is a different world! 

Next topic. After rating Mark Biddle, I rated 3 others.

There you go. I rated Amy Adams. My rating of Amy Adams

Madame Banerji is still there. My rating of Madame Banerji
Angelika-Pagel is still there. My rating of Angelika-Pagel

Most of those who taught ne at Weber State are not teaching there now. This is a crime, as people should keep doing the same things forever. Lol. JK.

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