Artist’s Point: Aidan Fobian

Artist’s Point, featured by the Tiger Hi-Line, is a series of articles exploring the world of art through the insights of young student artists here in Cedar Falls while also learning more about the artists themselves. In this issue we will be taking a look at the art of writing with Aidan Fobian, a former writer for the Tiger Hi-Line, and a writer who, although isn’t particularly planning to have a writing focused job in the future, still hopes to still express himself through his writings.

Fobian really began to realize his love for writing near the beginning of his sophomore year. While helping a friend write their own story, Fobian took inspiration from that moment and set out to write his own stories, continuing to write ever since. For other inspiration he states he takes ideas and concepts from multiple forms of media and his own experiences, applying all that knowledge and weaving it back into his own writings.

“I try to make work with a purpose, to share a thought or idea with the world usually told through a story,” Fobian said. “My style isn’t just one specific style. It is more of a collage of my experiences and enjoyments, put together.”

Although Fobian had taken English classes before, none of the topics they had written about really interested him. This is entirely why Fobian feels he is a “self taught artist,” explaining his more, “go with the flow” attitude toward writing, “You don’t have to follow a rule book. You can do whatever pops into your head,” Fobian said.

Even though he unfortunately doesn’t see writing in his future, believing he lives in an area that doesn’t value art and creative writings, Fobian has no doubt that writing is still an important part of human expression. Even when writing isn’t what most people think about when talking about “traditional art.”

“Art is important. It’s like people say how comedy is a ‘mirror of the world.’ Art is often the reflection of the person who created it. Their beliefs, ideas, etc. It’s a part of them that is being put out into the world,” Fobian said.

Moreover, AI programs such as ChatGPT only have caused the writing world more distress. Despite its programs being unable to form complete writings by itself, more and more people use its algorithm to generate stolen concepts and work. Fobian still believes programs like these can be good resources; however, he dislikes how it is used.

“I don’t specifically hate generation AI. It can be a good resource or tool to create something more, but I don’t think people should just take what it spits out. The art or the writing isn’t usually ever good enough, as a lot of the time it is very incomplete,” Fobian said.

Fobian also puts emphasis on how AI writing programs can be somewhat soulless, “It entirely takes away from human expression. There is no human behind it. It’s just all chopped up and taken from an online source. It’s not creativity from a person. It’s stolen work from a computer.”

If you would like to read some of Fobian’s work, use this link to check out his Tiger Hi-Line stories: http://hiline.cfschools.org/author/aidan-fobian/

You can also read a portion of his current work, Spark of Life, down below.

Spark of Life, By Aidan Fobian:

A few of the doctors stopped for a few moments, considering what to do when the man with red and white hair stepped in, and from his fingers, small orange cords sprung out and went around the man’s body. “We’ll help. You just deal with whatever is coming next. Come on now!” 

As Chloé stayed behind, Vincent and Grant went out into the hall, the doors locking behind them as the light up sign read “Operation in Progress.”

In less than a few minutes, multiple men holding rifles stormed the place, busting down doors. One of the men barked out, “You two! Where is that little-!?” 

“He’s being helped right now, and after I’m done with you, you’ll need more than surgery to fix you,” Vincent said, cracking his knuckles and holding out one of his hands, summoning his weapon of choice.

From a burst of colorless flames, a guitar appeared in Vincent’s hands. He spun it around by the neck and stopped it in playing position, giving a large strum as the hall shook with energy.

“Vincent, should I also?” Grant asked, but was interrupted.

“No, let’s just incapacitate them. You, stop their fire. I’ll knock ‘em out. Keep your tools stored away,” Vincent said as his eyes narrowed, his entire personality shifting to something more reserved and calculating.

It wasn’t long before a hail of bullets were fired at the two, but Grant held out his 

hand, and the wall of lead stopped dead in its tracks, and Vincent took his guitar like a baseball bat and swung out, sending the bullets ricocheting around, which made all the men back off and guard themselves.

Vincent rushed forward and spun his guitar around and brought it down on their heads, knocking them out with one swing. Then all movement stopped as he felt cold metal pressed against him. One of the men spoke, “End of the line.”

Vincent swung around and held his guitar’s body up, blocking the bullet as he grabbed the man with one hand and crashed him into the ground, leaving an impact mark.

While Vincent and Grant were dealing with the issues outside, Chloé stayed inside, stomaching what she was seeing. The man with red hair spoke up. “You can close your eyes if you want. Just keep healing him. That’ll keep him stable.”

Silently, the orange cords coming from the man’s fingers slithered around his body before finely digging in and moving under the skin, reaching around and all the way.

Chloé spoke up, her eyes closed as she held her hands out, radiating out green energy from them. “That’s some ability you got. What’s your name?”

“Terrence Beolagh. I’ve been doing this for a few years now. These things are great for taking things like bullets out, precise to the millimeter,” Terrence said, looking down at the warm body on his operating table, tracing the cords around the body, looking focused.

It wasn’t long as the doctors made a small incision around the neck, carefully pulling the bloodstained chip out. As a doctor moved it away, Terrence pulled his cords out but leaned back in, inspecting the chest wound and the neck incision. The cords on his fingertips slid down, wrapping themselves around like stitches, overtaking the crude ones that were put in. As the cords wrapped around and pulled the two parts of the body together, Chloé healed the wound up until all that was left was a few marks. 

Terrence stepped back, nodding to himself as he spoke to Chloé. “Good. Now we’ll just have to monitor him. Thanks for your help. You’d do pretty well if you decided to work here. I could make a referral.” 

“Thanks, but I have two other patients of mine to look after, speaking of which—” Chloé said walking toward the door and peeking out, seeing Vincent and Grant standing over a few bodies, checking their pulses to make sure they were living as Grant turned around and gave  thumbs up to Chloé.