Sunday, February 08, 2004
LIVING THE DREAM....
From the Atlanta Journal-Constitution: Georgian building his dream with Lego bricks
Garrett Barati sees his future in a bin full of Lego bricks — the nubbly red rectangles, the canary-yellow cubes, the flat squares that look like Chiclets — set on a table before him in the middle of the Legoland California theme park. If he can take those 4,000 plastic bricks and in two hours stack and snap them into something spectacular, he might achieve the goal he's been working toward for six months, and perhaps his entire life.
Barati wants to be a professional Lego builder and spend his 9-to-5 constructing life-size elephants, tiny skyscrapers, speeding trains and 3-D dinosaurs out of Legos for exhibits at the theme park.
Now the job is within reach — he's been picked from a field of 500 to fcompete against 26 other Lego fiends in this Jan. 23 event, the final build-off for the first Lego Master Model Builder Search.
To prepare, Barati spent 12 hours a day in his sister's cramped apartment in Columbus, Ga., hunched over a mound of primary-colored blocks, bettering his techniques and times, smoking too many cigarettes, drinking too much coffee and agonizing about what would happen to his ego, his future and his escalating debt if he failed to get this job.
Lego building may seem an odd or perhaps trivial aspiration; the bricks are a child's toy, after all. When Barati plays with them, he doesn't look like a 29-year-old artist who can talk endlessly about politics, religion and economics. With his hand wrist deep in a bucket of Legos, he looks like a kid, and he knows it.
But this isn't child's play to Barati. To him, Lego building is an artistic pursuit more gratifying than, say, sculpture. With Lego, there's no conceptualizing on paper, then shaping with clay, then painting, then firing in a kiln before having a finished product. And Barati loves the mathematical challenge of taking sharp-edged rectangles and creating a curvy mushroom cap or a kitten's arched back.
The master builder contest gives Barati a one-shot chance at taking this beloved hobby and turning it into a career. So for that he'll suffer the quizzical looks, ignore the dire predictions and try not to obsess about the consequences.
"It's one of those pipe dream kind of deals where it really does seem like, what's the chance?" Barati says. "But if you're going for something like this . . . you really want to give it your all."
Barati's desire is not unlike that of the waiter who labors in secret on his novelIf he can take those 4,000 plastic bricks and in two hours stack and snap them into something spectacular, he might achieve the goal he's been working toward for six months, and perhaps his entire life.
Barati wants to be a professional Lego builder and spend his 9-to-5 constructing life-size elephants, tiny skyscrapers, speeding trains and 3-D dinosaurs out of Legos for exhibits at the theme park.
Now the job is within reach — he's been picked from a field of 500 to compete against 26 other Lego fiends in this Jan. 23 event, the final build-off for the first Lego Master Model Builder Search.
To prepare, Barati spent 12 hours a day in his sister's cramped apartment in Columbus, Ga., hunched over a mound of primary-colored blocks, bettering his techniques and times, smoking too many cigarettes, drinking too much coffee and agonizing about what would happen to his ego, his future and his escalating debt if he failed to get this job.
Lego building may seem an odd or perhaps trivial aspiration; the bricks are a child's toy, after all. When Barati plays with them, he doesn't look like a 29-year-old artist who can talk endlessly about politics, religion and economics. With his hand wrist deep in a bucket of Legos, he looks like a kid, and he knows it.
But this isn't child's play to Barati. To him, Lego building is an artistic pursuit more gratifying than, say, sculpture. With Lego, there's no conceptualizing on paper, then shaping with clay, then painting, then firing in a kiln before having a finished product. And Barati loves the mathematical challenge of taking sharp-edged rectangles and creating a curvy mushroom cap or a kitten's arched back.
The master builder contest gives Barati a one-shot chance at taking this beloved hobby and turning it into a career. So for that he'll suffer the quizzical looks, ignore the dire predictions and try not to obsess about the consequences.
"It's one of those pipe dream kind of deals where it really does seem like, what's the chance?" Barati says. "But if you're going for something like this . . . you really want to give it your all."
Unfortunatley Mr. Barati did not win the contest, but he says he will continue in his efforts to work for LEGO, probably one of the coolest jobs in the world. |
From the Atlanta Journal-Constitution: Georgian building his dream with Lego bricks
Garrett Barati sees his future in a bin full of Lego bricks — the nubbly red rectangles, the canary-yellow cubes, the flat squares that look like Chiclets — set on a table before him in the middle of the Legoland California theme park. If he can take those 4,000 plastic bricks and in two hours stack and snap them into something spectacular, he might achieve the goal he's been working toward for six months, and perhaps his entire life.
Barati wants to be a professional Lego builder and spend his 9-to-5 constructing life-size elephants, tiny skyscrapers, speeding trains and 3-D dinosaurs out of Legos for exhibits at the theme park.
Now the job is within reach — he's been picked from a field of 500 to fcompete against 26 other Lego fiends in this Jan. 23 event, the final build-off for the first Lego Master Model Builder Search.
To prepare, Barati spent 12 hours a day in his sister's cramped apartment in Columbus, Ga., hunched over a mound of primary-colored blocks, bettering his techniques and times, smoking too many cigarettes, drinking too much coffee and agonizing about what would happen to his ego, his future and his escalating debt if he failed to get this job.
Lego building may seem an odd or perhaps trivial aspiration; the bricks are a child's toy, after all. When Barati plays with them, he doesn't look like a 29-year-old artist who can talk endlessly about politics, religion and economics. With his hand wrist deep in a bucket of Legos, he looks like a kid, and he knows it.
But this isn't child's play to Barati. To him, Lego building is an artistic pursuit more gratifying than, say, sculpture. With Lego, there's no conceptualizing on paper, then shaping with clay, then painting, then firing in a kiln before having a finished product. And Barati loves the mathematical challenge of taking sharp-edged rectangles and creating a curvy mushroom cap or a kitten's arched back.
The master builder contest gives Barati a one-shot chance at taking this beloved hobby and turning it into a career. So for that he'll suffer the quizzical looks, ignore the dire predictions and try not to obsess about the consequences.
"It's one of those pipe dream kind of deals where it really does seem like, what's the chance?" Barati says. "But if you're going for something like this . . . you really want to give it your all."
Barati's desire is not unlike that of the waiter who labors in secret on his novelIf he can take those 4,000 plastic bricks and in two hours stack and snap them into something spectacular, he might achieve the goal he's been working toward for six months, and perhaps his entire life.
Barati wants to be a professional Lego builder and spend his 9-to-5 constructing life-size elephants, tiny skyscrapers, speeding trains and 3-D dinosaurs out of Legos for exhibits at the theme park.
Now the job is within reach — he's been picked from a field of 500 to compete against 26 other Lego fiends in this Jan. 23 event, the final build-off for the first Lego Master Model Builder Search.
To prepare, Barati spent 12 hours a day in his sister's cramped apartment in Columbus, Ga., hunched over a mound of primary-colored blocks, bettering his techniques and times, smoking too many cigarettes, drinking too much coffee and agonizing about what would happen to his ego, his future and his escalating debt if he failed to get this job.
Lego building may seem an odd or perhaps trivial aspiration; the bricks are a child's toy, after all. When Barati plays with them, he doesn't look like a 29-year-old artist who can talk endlessly about politics, religion and economics. With his hand wrist deep in a bucket of Legos, he looks like a kid, and he knows it.
But this isn't child's play to Barati. To him, Lego building is an artistic pursuit more gratifying than, say, sculpture. With Lego, there's no conceptualizing on paper, then shaping with clay, then painting, then firing in a kiln before having a finished product. And Barati loves the mathematical challenge of taking sharp-edged rectangles and creating a curvy mushroom cap or a kitten's arched back.
The master builder contest gives Barati a one-shot chance at taking this beloved hobby and turning it into a career. So for that he'll suffer the quizzical looks, ignore the dire predictions and try not to obsess about the consequences.
"It's one of those pipe dream kind of deals where it really does seem like, what's the chance?" Barati says. "But if you're going for something like this . . . you really want to give it your all."
Unfortunatley Mr. Barati did not win the contest, but he says he will continue in his efforts to work for LEGO, probably one of the coolest jobs in the world. |
