Edward Vasquez

Edward Vasquez

In my drawings, I tended to focus on areas of Harvard’s campus at which I have spent significant amounts of time, places that I tend to pass through somewhat carelessly or with haste. In some sense, that is how I interact with the campus and with my environment: I focus on the bigger picture, and I infrequently take the time to appreciate smaller details which are designed with as much detail and care as the large ones.

I had an easier time imagining the larger elements from which Harvard’s campus is composed, such as buildings and main arteries, rather than smaller details like trees and benches. I could easily locate, say, the different arenas on Soldiers Field (the athletic complex), or most of the buildings in the Yard. But I couldn’t connect the main paths and sidewalks—probably because I am a bad pedestrian and walk through lawns and streets more often than advised. I also tended to remember the different areas of importance to the Harvard Band (of which I am a member) and where we would normally travel—that is another way in which I frequently interact with the environment.

I was also limited in my medium: I purchased a square notebook, and rather than drawing dozens of drawings trying to encapsulate all of the campus meticulously, I only focused on a vignette of the spaces assigned. This, too, made it difficult to consider where things began and ended, a problem we rarely encounter when we navigate with our favorite contemporary cartographer, Google. We rarely need to try and create our own mental images of the spaces we inhabit anymore, save for when a tourist or parent asks for directions (moments I relish because I like the mental challenge of envisioning routes and paths to a place). Thus it’s difficult to express our ideas well in written form, much less in a drawing. I enjoy the challenge, but it is difficult to settle for imperfection and incompleteness in the age of perfection and computers.