By achieving a Fine Arts degree at the Alberta College of Art & Design with a major in Print Media and completing a New Media Production and Design Diploma from SAIT, I have attained extensive creative capabilities. The study of design, aesthetics, web development and concept development are knowledge I have achieved through my studies and work experience. I am tremendously enjoying the creative process, critical thinking, problem solving, and the resourceful skills I am gaining through my practice. I look forward to highly developing and specializing in new media design and web development. Working with you would be a greatly fulfilling and rewarding opportunity. You may contact me at fernando@fernandovargas.ca and view the rest of my portfolio website.
My educational and work experiences have allowed me to become proficient in the following computer programs:
I am looking forward in taking new projects and hearing from you.
Fernando Vargas.
Too many to name, but two songs I will never get sick of are:
Thursday, 9 am on the Whitehorn train, the world in its morning face. Mix of sun and cloud, four degrees and a slender, weightless breeze. This morning I find myself in search of a different place to sit. There is a strange man clad in earth tones with unfamiliar features that make one wonder about foreign islands, like Maldives or maybe Socotra — an isolated bit of land that detached from Africa as a fault block during the Middle Pliocene. It is comforting. I have grown attached to that seat, where I can see everyone enter and exit the passenger car.
Here, in thirty minutes of transportation, I enter limitless and boundless rooms all of which have no color, but are purely transparent. Each room, a rapid thought I cannot board long enough to conclude. It is now quarter-after-nine, a quarter, un cuarto, one room. A thousand times I must have died, to make it to 9:15. In a parallel life I must have died crossing 32nd. Now it is vague, I don’t even recall taking the precautions. As a child I was always told to check for traffic. I could have fallen off the C-Train platform and got struck — an enormous thrash to send me right back to the beginning.
I stare out the window and go astray in thought of it today, how I lay alone at Nissi beach trying not to disturb the universe, but rather how it had already disturbed me. The city, like the sea and its offerings, is in the everyday proceedings. I revere the man from Socotra drinking coffee, the teenager studying microeconomics, the woman who is embarrassed because her child cries deafeningly, and the mystery of their existence. On these tracks I contemplate over our insignificant significance and our significant insignificance. The city is a depository of lost things and in this cuarto, at this momentum, I have no desire to step back into my innocence and do it all over again. Maybe it is never really lost. I am now not the same person I was fifteen minutes ago.