meet andrew dengate
Narcism: If we met at a bar, I'd probably tell you that I'm a ski patroller. That's the joke anyway, right? I probably wouldn't mention the fact that I paint sometimes, and that for better or worse art and I have maintained a relationship since I was about 4 years old. It all starts with my dad, who is an artist by trade. He educated my sister and I in his own way. He taught us to be kids, led us to be creative. He recognized the human curiosity in us, and the desire to express oneself, to make and to build. He is the driving force behind various projects: building a wooden sailboat, mimicing the master painters, holding songbooks by the campfire. Everyone says that they are their hardest critic. For me, it's my dad.
So where did I come from? Ferndale, MI. A suburb of Detroit. I busted on to the scene with sidewalk chalk and crayons, armed with books on "how to draw rainforest animals." I would go ride my bike and jump curbs, wish there was a mountain to ride down. In high school I was diligent, an athlete and scholar that spent equal parts of the day training and doing homework, and continually itching to escape to greener places. I put the escape off a little more, and studied Biology at the University of Michigan. I have pages filled with notes from my classes. Pages with margins, margins with doodles.
Now I'm 29. I've been here in the mountains for 5 years. I still ride my bike, then draw. I find that it steadies the hand and quiets the mind. My family is a huge part of my life. My sister to support me, my mom to push me, and my dad to teach me how to get it done. Every time I write about myself, I realize how I'm just a conglomerate of these wonderful people that have shaped my life.
What I choose to paint only comes to me at inopportune times: on vacation, on a grueling hike, in the middle of a shift. Never when I have a pen in my hand and the wherewithal to do something with it. One of my biggest challenges is taking that initial inspiration and moving it to a better timeline. But painting and drawing is just work at the end of the day. I know what to do and how to do it, I just have to make it happen.
Some artists struggle with consistency in their work, I don't. I have no consistency, but I don't struggle with it. Some artists struggle with letting go of their originals, I don't. Why let all the ideas out if you aren't going to share them?
Where I'm headed from here is unclear. I've been struggling with the classic quarter life crisis for about 5 years now. Caught somewhere between the out of doors, the paint and ink, and the desire to grow old comfortably. It's my struggle though, and I can't wait to indulge myself with the challenges.
So where did I come from? Ferndale, MI. A suburb of Detroit. I busted on to the scene with sidewalk chalk and crayons, armed with books on "how to draw rainforest animals." I would go ride my bike and jump curbs, wish there was a mountain to ride down. In high school I was diligent, an athlete and scholar that spent equal parts of the day training and doing homework, and continually itching to escape to greener places. I put the escape off a little more, and studied Biology at the University of Michigan. I have pages filled with notes from my classes. Pages with margins, margins with doodles.
Now I'm 29. I've been here in the mountains for 5 years. I still ride my bike, then draw. I find that it steadies the hand and quiets the mind. My family is a huge part of my life. My sister to support me, my mom to push me, and my dad to teach me how to get it done. Every time I write about myself, I realize how I'm just a conglomerate of these wonderful people that have shaped my life.
What I choose to paint only comes to me at inopportune times: on vacation, on a grueling hike, in the middle of a shift. Never when I have a pen in my hand and the wherewithal to do something with it. One of my biggest challenges is taking that initial inspiration and moving it to a better timeline. But painting and drawing is just work at the end of the day. I know what to do and how to do it, I just have to make it happen.
Some artists struggle with consistency in their work, I don't. I have no consistency, but I don't struggle with it. Some artists struggle with letting go of their originals, I don't. Why let all the ideas out if you aren't going to share them?
Where I'm headed from here is unclear. I've been struggling with the classic quarter life crisis for about 5 years now. Caught somewhere between the out of doors, the paint and ink, and the desire to grow old comfortably. It's my struggle though, and I can't wait to indulge myself with the challenges.