New Spice | Study like a scholar, scholar

Valeri Larko

I am loving these paintings by Valeri Larko. She focuses on the juxtaposition of urban decay and nature. I am facinated by her ability to transform something that is typically considered ugly into a subject of incredible beauty in her use of color and eye for shape and composition. Unlike some works of art that focus on urban ruin or salvage yards for the purpose of controversy about consumption, ect, Larko's work isn't conforntational in that way. It seems to be more of an observation of beauty where others miss it. It does call attention to the issue of waste, but it isn't in such a way that demands change-- it is simply an observation she is making. Click on the title of this post to see her website, which is full of wonderful work.

This Is Where We Live from 4th Estate on Vimeo.

I love this video from 4th Estate, a British publishing house. Caught it from annekata. Check out her site for more info on the making of the video.

I love you, City

 

 

 

 

It is hard to believe it has already been two weeks since I made the trek to Capitol Hill in Denver to apply for my teaching license, but I wanted to post a few pictures I took while wandering abound. Being Downtown reminded me of the things I love the most about cities-- Architecture and this history it can't help but conjure. Architecture! I love love love love it. I love the juxtaposition of the historical and modern, the decorative next to the functional. I love old architecture full of brick and iron because it reminds me of a time when people weren't too busy, weren't in too much of a hury to remember to also make everything beautiful. We've lost something in our prefabricated, concrete and glass world. We've lost the floral motifs, the scrolled metalwork that makes our world more than a place just to get things done and move on to the next thing. There is something about the beauty of the details that helps us stop and look and reflect upon what our lives really are.

I've been thinking some about moving to Capitol Hill. I've been reminded of dreams I used to dream about living in the city, teaching in a school with as little as my own school had, changing the lives of kids who have nothing, who live in unadorned worlds of brokenness. I don't have any idea where the future will lead, what is ahead for me, but I am working hard at listening. As I delve deeper into the reality of this post-grad life means, I am learning that it may be bigger than I thought, it may require more sacrifice, and it might cause me to change my mind about more things that I planned to change my mind about. who knows? We'll see where it all goes, I suppose...

Busy with a few creative things...

 

 

 

 

It is official. I am living the true life of an artist. I have been busy at work painting and drawing, getting new ideas and exploring what is next for me in my painting-- as much as I can squeeze in between working, interviewing for the summer, getting ready to actually start working full time at the Y, and also looking for teaching jobs-- and trying to keep up with all of the wonderful people in my life. BUT-- I think I am a bit more of a legitimage artist considering I am waiting for my next paycheck so I can buy some more cadmium yellow. I feel like Monet on a rainy day. Sad sad sad. Itching.

Nevertheless, I am excited about some of the things coming out of me. I am exploring some new colors, really trying to push myself to use more whites, or at least trying to venture up to the higher end of the value scale. I am finding myself needing to remind myself to be very aware of the importance of dynamic choices in terms of amounts in color and value. I am pleased with the way things are coming out. I am exploring a lot with fibers, getting really exciting about what I can do with fabric. I have also noticed a bit of a shift in the scenes I am compelled to paint since moving here closer to the foothills. The images that continually come to mind are less about plains meeting mountains and more about mountains meeting mountins, the valleys and hills that seem to crumple like blankets, ready to enfold. I've been thinking a lot more about cells, about plants, about what growth looks like on paper, on canvas. interesting ideas that haev not yet been fully explored... perhaps more will come.

I have been thinking and dreaming a lot about where life is going. At this point, things feel a bit scattered-- I am stretched, arms wide, between a lot of different things. Trying to figure out what my passions for kids and teaching are leading, how that is all going to play out in this economy that seems to have sucker-punched education right in the gut. I am happy to be wtih kids at the Y, but am really longing to be doing something more with all of this creativity, all of this strength, all of this ability that is just screaming to get out of me. The job market is quite bleak and I feel like I could be doing so much more-- but it is so much a matter of waiting, of patience, of letting my life develop as it does, walking deeper into the woods, reading more words, letting experience build upon experience. But the day will be coming, indeed, it is surely on its way! It is just a matter of continuing on. Continuing the walk, continuing the search.... getting up each day and doing a little at a time.

back on the perverbial horse...

It has been a while.... and I must admit that I've been off my creative track a bit more than I'd like. Living the creative life hasn't been working out as well as I had hoped. BUT-- today, today, I took a few hours to draw, spent a bit of time really thinking about the direction I want my paintings to go, where I want to go next creatively, really.

I've been struggling a little bit with how to really speak about the visual life that makes up my daily ritual because things are much more complex and I haven't studied enough to be ableto really speak about my surroundings from memory yet. So-- I've set out to work a bit more on studying.

The thing that I love about being here in Boulder is the overabundance of wonderful residential architecture. Because there is an ordinance that prevents expansion, this city is crammed, jammed full of wonderful old houses that have each been individually transformed into personal works of art. There are so many unique houses and each set against this fabulous backdrop of the flatirons and the foothills-- it is about to make my artistic heart burst. Every time I even make the .2 mile drive from work back home, I can hardly believe my incredible luck at being given the gift of such a beautiful home. Truth be told, every time I find myself being called back to the northern or eastern side of the state, a little part of me grieves as I look over my shoulder before getting in the car. I am becoming quite spoiled and snobbish, I must openly admit.

All this to say, being so close to the mountains and being bombarded with so many wonderful houses to look at, creating a painting that really captures it all without more careful observation and study seems impossible. So, as the weather is getting to be so wonderfully beautiful and plants are popping up everywhere, my goal is to get out more and draw-- maybe even just for an hour or two a week. One or two drawings a week would be a great accomplishment for me now. In the meantime, as the Colorado weather is in the process of making up its mind, I have taken a few hundred photographs that ought to serve as some great resource material. I know, I know, this is breaking two cardinal rules-- drawing from observation and from a photograph, but hopefully it will provide me with a bit more visual insight into what we are dealing with here in order to really speak clearly and beautifully about the environment with all of its homey neighborhoods and wonderful wildlife from a more emotional or intellectual perspective soon!

I've posted a few of my favorite images from the day.

How to read a book you don't want to read

Although I imagine this video might not be quite as applicable to the art classroom, this could be a great literacy resource. This could be a great way of teaching literacy skills or might just be a good way of introducing a learning activity that may involve the daunting task of reading a book.

NZ Book Council - Going West

Another great video. It is my hope that i can use resources like this in my classroom on a daily basis to help students see all of the creative possibilities that are out there. As you might have noticed, I Tend to use this blog as a way of collecting these resources so that eventually, when I do have my classroom, I'll have a ready and easy store to refer to. I think that videos like this and other current media might be good ways to start the day-- students can watch the video, look at a work of art, ect and then write a response in their sketchbook, talk to a friend about it, or contribute to a class disucssion.

Eleanor McCain

I am loving these quilts by Eleanor McCain. I've been saving up old scraps of fabric and old clothes-- I would love to begin working on some things like this... oh how I love fiber arts!

My new favorite

I am in absolute love with these paintings from John Baird. I love his incorporation of pattern, textures, and textiles in these beautiful still lives. My heart is aflutter at his beautiful use of color and abstraction of ideas.

Wailin' Jennys

The music of these women makes me hungry for beauty. hhmmm. I've been thinking a lot about the quality of holding desire without the need to grasp or possess. This music brings about in me a sense of need to simply hold the beauty, to breath it in without needing to do anything else. enjoy!

TaaaaDAAAA!

The day has finally arrived for all of you who have been coveting a peice of artwork all of your own! Now that I've graduated and lived through student teaching, my lack of posting here is beyond excuse, but we could just say I've been busy setting up my shop ;). Anywho-- I have been very busy collecting old and new artwork for your financial enjoyment. Here is a little sneak peak at a few of the array of goods available at my etsy shop, Headed West. It is a bit primitive at the moment, but I hope to develop things as time goes on!

Love it

I've been admiring this song all season and was so excited to see this video over at poppytalk. enojoy as you start over this new year!

Winter Songs from Crush Design on Vimeo.

Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.

When all you have left to say is, "I'm sorry."

Finding myself at Thanksgiving and receiving the pleasure of at least two extra full days with which I am able to fill with the ever-so weighty list of things to accomplish, I finally got around to looking over the finished assignments from my students at the high school and the 100 accompanying evaluations filled out regarding my teaching at the school. I made it through approximately 60 of the pages filled with a a smattering of both scathing and kind remarks. I sat there at the kitchen table, head in my hands, stunned, although not overly surprised. Although I did not know quite how strongly some of the students felt, their responses to my solicitation for opinion put many of the unspoken feelings about my experience there into words, as difficult as they are to read. Reading what the students had to say really brought me back to the deep sense of failure and lostness I felt there.

I've debated about being so bold as to reveal my poor reviews here for you to see, but over the last day or so, I find the inability to escape pain-inducing recollections of what I read just yesterday and I feel the need to sort out the emotions and find a footing upon which to walk forward. Honestly, I am still trying to figure out what happened to me there, where I got off track, how I seem to have so badly missed the point.

Reading over the selection of evaluations left me with the sense that somehow I had missed really seeing the students I was supposed to be teaching. I felt overwhelmed. I felt lost. I felt insecure. and I felt threatened and abused by many of the students. I was writing a reflection on one of my lessons from the high school the other day and realized the answer to the question: "What went wrong," to be somehow and somewhere answered in the fact that I let the students walk all over me. One of the more compassionate evaluations actually read, "You shouldn't let students walk all over you. You are the authority in the class." Sage advice from a student that I don't think I know how to apply.

Maybe if I'd had more time there, I could have continued to grow. I do not know. I found myself sitting there yesterday, wishing that I could crawl down into the heater vents where I could hear the mice scratching around. I sat there, thinking, "I wish I could just go back there and say 'I am so sorry.' "

My heart breaks at the thought that I hurt some students, that I left them feeling unimportant, inadequate, or disrespected. I wish I could have found space to just see them before everything else.

I am remembering thoughts shared by experienced teachers about the fact that they learned everything about writing lessons and their content in school, but were not taught the most important thing-- relationships. And thinking of that gives me a bit of hope that perhaps I am not as doomed as I feel, that although the learning curve is steep, that perhaps there is hope for me yet. That somehow I will touch more students with love and compassion than those that leave my classroom feeling hurt. And I find myself hoping and longing that there is forgiveness out there somewhere for me. Maybe even if it only comes from me.

In the midst of all of this, I find myself searching for some sort of footing in terms of classification of blame, causes, and responses. I keep thinking of this phrase that I heard over and over in jr. high and high school: You must rise to the occassion. I've been thinking of this often, about how regardless of the reasons, regardless of what I am up against, regardless of how close student teaching is to being a real teacher, I have to rise to the occassion. I can only meet the challenges with integrity and courage, doing my best to do what I know to be the best.

Much of this semester, especially the first part of this journey, left me with a sense of flail-- I imagine myself treading water. Unfortunately, the stack of evaluations sitting at home on my desk are reminders of the students that I had there in the water with me.

Thier evaluations have shown me again that the essential thing in teaching has little to do with what I teach and much to do with how I am treating, seeing, and loving the group of students I have been placed around. The difficulty, I think, with being a student teacher and being a young teacher, is making the transition between doing the thing you've been taught to be able to do in school and seeing the real people you have chosen to serve with this training and knowledge.

When I was at the school, my mentor teacher tried to tell me that the choices I make about how I actually teach, the learning experience I set up for my students has a reciprocal relationship with the personal connections I have with students. My instructional strategies should be rooted in compassion and a personal and genuine connection with the students for which that instruction is prepared. How I use the time I have in my classroom does actually communicate how I feel about students-- it isn't just about what I say.

Respect is a funny thing. As a young teacher, I am still tyring to navigate my personal identity. I am navigating what it means to be an authority and to gain proper respect. Something I do remember thinking a lot about during my first placement was the issue of posturing. I worked through the tendency to put on a "teacher face," and grew a great deal in learning how to relax and be personal in the classroom. I think I did come a long way, but it is going to take a while to really learn it. I think I get caught up in feeling like I need to figure out what the model of teacher-persona is and then put on that costume, become the expected image. I am starting to see that the difference is in simply seeing my role as a person who is placed in the classroom to serve the young people that enter its door. My role is a person who is able to love my class as a whole and therefore make decisions based not on how I feel about individual students or how they treat me, but simply, manage this little world as a whole, making sure each student is held to the same standard of work, respect, and self-pride. How that works itself out beyond theory is a difficult question, but at least it is an idea with which to work.

As painful as it is to read about my mistakes and failures from the very hands of those I have failed, there is also something about it that drives me to try again. It poses a challenge for growth that is essential for a vibrant life. It is an opportunity to learn how to serve students better in the future because I now can see a little more what really hurts them and what really matters most. Working through the difficulties and messes that define relationships are the very catalysts that teach us to love better, even though it is frightening. Even if the thought of it still makes me sick to my stomache.

So what am I to do with all of this? The truth is that I am fresh, I am green, and I have been trusted with an unbelieveable number of young people even though the expectation for my failure and mistakes is quite high. The truth is that I am broken. I am humbled. I am repentant and I hope that someday all of those kids who saw my evaluations as an opportunity to unleash the eight weeks of pain and frustration I put them through will find it in thier hearts to forgive me. I hope that they will someday find grace for failures and shortcomings that they did not seem to recieve from me.

There is something refreshing and exhiliarting in the prospect of a second chance at loving people. There is something I find so deeply touching in the idea that even when I've so impossibly wronged someone, there is always a chance tomorrow to make it right. There is always a chance to start again, to stop and remember how much better things are when I choose compassion before my own sense of obligation or responsiblity. It is that painful sense of growth that comes from pruning.

And I am happy to know that there is hope for forgiveness and grace for my failures, even when I feel like I belong somewhere near the bottom of the foodchain.

Art

COMBO a collaborative animation by Blu and David Ellis (2 times loop)

Something that really gets me excited about using technology in the classroom is the ability to show students so many creative and artful videos like this one. Today I began a lesson with fifth graders on actual and implied movement and was able to share with them the video on Kinetic Sculpture that I posted here a while back. It was so exciting to be able to see them get so excited over this great video. I simply asked them to tell me a few things that they observed in the video and the complexity of their thoughts and level of interest and intrigue blew me away.

This was a really good day for me. The lessons that I taught today were all "day 2"s for my original lessons and it was really exciting to see how much the kids had learned based both on their memories from last week and also in their continued engagement in the assignments. Today was also the first day that the students started using "real clay," which is a opportunity that makes them feel very grown up and artisticallly "official," if you will. There is something instantly gratifying in seeing students genuinely enjoying and doing well at an activity that you have poured so much of yourself into preparing. And it is exciting to see my own ideas being given new life through the creative genius of children. Somehow, the more I work with children, the more I am amazed at what they come up with. Just watching 24 six-year old decorate tiles shaped like houses today reminded me of how much creative potential lies in one person and how unique each person's vision is.

I think as I teach more, I seeing that perhaps the thing that I enjoy most about teaching art is that I get to look at great art all day long. I just adore walking around the classroom and seeing what the students come up with in response to a single prompt or idea. I love looking at so many different kinds of art, and what could be better than looking at over 100 pieces of brand new art being created each day? It is truly a wonderful thing.

Sunday afternoon physics

It is getting on towards Sunday afternoon and I find myself contemplating heat, calories, and projectile motion. I've been sitting at a new coffee shop, looking out at the faces of Boulder walking down the street outside the large plate-glass window for nearly three hours and am rummaging around inside my body and brain for the energy and perseverance to keep going. I need an activity for fifth graders tomorrow that will help them understand the concept of movement in a work of art. I have a large stack of lesson plans, essays, rubrics, assessment tables, and analysis to do and I am looking outside wondering if it would be okay for me to get up and take a break, to go to Bliss, one of my favorite stores and look at all the creative, artistic gifts and things that they lay out for me to admire.

I am on the downward slope of this journey. The acceleration is increasing exponentially each day and I am coming to that point where many of those loose pieces are falling into place. Things are making more sense and my desire to do well is becoming more and more pervasive. I am beginning to see how I can, in this strange season, take charge of the sort of teacher I want to be and move towards it.

A month or so ago, I remember sitting at my kitchen table on a Sunday much like this one, feeling angry about the seven hours spent pouring over books and completing the tedium that is the "Art Content Lesson Plan Format." I wanted to be outside, making myself a well-rounded person, engaging in the rest that gives me the right to claim my own humanity. The next few days brought a well of tears and a reminder to be myself, to be personal, to move my teaching out of my head, out of Microsoft Word formatting, into my arms, my voice, my stories. And although this was an important step, I was still missing the balance between intentional planning and hard and fast commitment to something that is still all-consuming.

Something about my new placement at the elementary level, maybe my mid-term evaluation, maybe a simple progression towards a more "grown up" perspective, I am more resigned to putting in the work that it takes to be a really great teacher. A lot of days earlier in this semester left me feeling far from the teacher I want to be for reasons I am still sorting out. But I feel now that I've had more time to organize my thoughts, more of a space that gives me a conceptual grounding of what I am about, that I can set down these goals and follow the path towards realizing them.

I want to be a great teacher. I want students to come away with deep thoughts, substantial changes in their view of learning and life. I want to be intentional about the activity that takes place in my classroom and I want students to walk away with a grasp of the concepts about art and the world that make me see my life as a journey towards the center of the earth. And I want to do the work today that will make me that teacher.

It is easy for me to complain, to say "it isn't fair," or get upseet that the constructs of our over-busy society are doing damage to my personal life. I can say that college is perpetuating a society that is overworked and overly committed to success as a result of production. And although these things may be true at the end of the day, I am being called to a race at this moment that demands everything. This week, my cooperating teacher reminded me that this trial, this last step is a process that is intended to put me through the paces so that when the greater challenges come and I am outside this support system, I will have the muscles to lift it all. And yes, I will have a great deal to learn for the duration of my life as a teacher, but the intention here is truly to benefit the students under my care. And although, mid-stream, it is easy to say that those in authority over me lack perspective or they have failed to see me, I have to remember that thier goals may be different, their perspective is coming from a place other than mine and I must trust that thier motives are pure and right.

It is this strange place between submission and self-realization. It is this moment in which I am being told, "you must be a teacher like this," and it is also a landscape in which I must daily ask myself, "What kind of teacher do I ultimately want to be and what am I willing to submit to in orde to get there?"

Some parts of me wish that perhaps I could go back to the beginning, knowing what I know now, and try things again with more of the end in mind. I wish I had set out first with this question of "how do I want to grow as a teacher" and go back in the environment of support and mentorship that I had earlier in the semester and try it again. But I think this is the thing that time, learning, and perspective provides-- the ability to move forward knowing that the opportunity is still mine. Perhaps this is the beauty of living the life of a teacher-- there are always opportunities to build upon our own learning. There is never an expectation of mastery, but always an expectation of openness to the voids that must be filled in our understanding of what it means to teach.

And so, this afternoon, as the sun streams is across my dusty glasses and I long to get up and leave, I will persevere yet. I will finish this race set before me and work on remembering that the reward of seeing myself as a teacher who lives well will be greater than the momentary rewards of a free weekend of afternoon of less meaningful fulfillment.

I will finish this race and I will continue to run it well.

Child Artists

Here is a great article written by George Szekely, who was also the keynote speaker at the CAEA Conference this year. He has a great way of honoring the innate power of a child's creativity and his words keep us from the belief that children are lesser contributors to our world.