REFLECTIONS ON ART, TEACHING AND LIFE
Seeds of Possibility
This past summer, a friend and I began our very first plot in a local community garden. The seasoned gardeners kindly offered us helpful tips and even shoveled for us as our lack of knowledge and technique was obvious. With a little more research, a few helpful hands, and a lot of sweat, the two of us turned the soil and planted three rows of a variety of vegetables and fruit. Over time, the seeds responded to the California sun and water, sprouted and bore fruit. And now, I am still eating an abundance of zucchini, tomatoes and peppers in most all of my meals.
For the past two years, I have been doing some personal work to seek into the attributes of openness and possibility. Through doing so, an expansion of changes, new encounters and adventures have come my way. As the school year has started, a new season of possibilities have been churning inside me and I have been reminded to plant seeds in new ways as an educator and artist. But as a visionary of sorts, the idea of planting seeds can be challenging because I want to see the most impacting outcome first, not the small steps to get there. I am reminded in these new goals, though, to plant a small seed- through just one conversation, one follow-up email, one pen on paper- and the next step will follow with the outcome revealing itself eventually. In our progressive world of efficiency, this idea can seem counter-intuitive. Reaching the ultimate outcome should not take more time as technology has made the promise to save time. But the reality of innovation requires the unknown, the possibility of failure, and the commitment to try multiple times, multiple ways. Language and attitude of openness and possibility is to see how a seed may grow.
In one of my favorite art books, Art and Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland, they describe the act of artmaking through the lense of possibility: “Art is like beginning a sentence before you know its ending.” As in life, art requires an attitude of openness and possibility. This is one cultural shift that I have been working to change in my classroom and am reminded to change in myself as well. My students live primarily in a math and science based world, where the ultimate outcome can be quantified and objectified. As my advanced placement students have been planning out their sustained investigation pieces, I have witnessed the fear to plant a seed first hand. The stress of achieving the difficult goal of reaching the highest technical skill, deepest conceptual understanding within multiple works of art drives them to seek the most efficient path, leading to an attitude of “buts” when making decisions. As we process their ideas together, I watch their fear encroach and root out possibilities while I fight them to say- “try it!” I am slowly planting seeds to help them plant seeds of openness and possibility as the cyclical process comes back to remind myself to do the same.
Bayles, David; Orland, Ted. (1993). Art and Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking. Santa Cruz: Continuum Press.
12 Lessons/12 Months
“Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way. So she set to to work, and very soon finished off the cake.”
-Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
Today marks the one year anniversary of my move to South Bay, California. And though it has flown by, these 12 months have provided an expanse of new insights that I am currently sifting through; insights of art education, of the artistic process, and of personal growth. While I am still mulling through the many experiences that moving provides, here are 12 lessons that I have learned in the past 12 months.
EXPECT NOTHING BUT OUT-OF-THE-WAY THINGS TO HAPPEN.
The quote above from Alice in Wonderland has been one of my favorites for quite some time, but I recently revisited the novel and found it all too connective to how I continue to want to live my life. As I reflect, there have been very few life moments of mine that I expected the way it turned out. Moving to the South Bay was certainly one of those. I had expected to move to a place with more connections and maybe a “cooler” scene, but the unexpected happened and I am still finding it more exciting than if I had stuck to my life going in the common way or the way I had expected. This can be evidenced in my art as well. So often, I have a great idea in my head and am frustrated that it doesn’t work out the way I envisioned it, but if I let the process take control, I see that unexpected art miracles happen.
2. TAKE RISKS.
When people ask if I am in tech after I explain to them that I just moved to South Bay, I quickly say no, I’m an art teacher and the responses have varied greatly. From, “oh, that’s great; we need more of those” to “why?” and then my favorite, is the quizzical faces that don’t want to offend. There are many levels of risk taking to moving to a new city as an art teacher, especially when you are swimming upstream in much of the way a culture is building itself. I find the risk exciting, though, to look into what is lacking and participate in bringing a new insight without knowing the result. If we do not take a risk, how will we not live in regret, knowing there may have been something great had we attempted.
3. BE PRESENT.
As stated in the previous post, I have been working through Mindfulness curriculum to better engage my practice as well as introduce practices in the classroom. I have found that the deeper I seek out the present moment, the better I am able to move through the ebbing and flowing tides that life inherently grants. This has directly affected my artistic process by not placing such expectation on future goals that are often blocked by anxiety, but rather, allowing the process to flow with each new idea and see where one idea to the next can take me.
4. EACH CONNECTION COUNTS.
I have had the privilege of meeting a wide variety of people in these past twelve months. And though not each connection has stuck around or was even in depth, I have found that if I choose, I can place awareness and gratitude for what that human connection brought at that moment. It is not until we find ourselves alone, I think, that we realize how much we take for granted the small (and maybe large) connections we have. It could be grocer who asks you how you really are doing to a friend that takes a risk and asks you for a coffee date. In each and every scenario, whether awkward, a new lasting friend, or a hard loss, I have found that I have learned a new story, a new personality, a new way of viewing myself, greater empathy, or just a new fun location to visit.
5. BEING ALONE DOESN’T EQUAL LONELINESS.
Though I have probably spent a far greater time by myself this past year, I have seen great solace in the solitude. It has allowed me to take in an experience more fully, to work harder on my passions of art and the outdoors, and it has built a greater confidence in my independence as a woman. I did not realize how much I placed emphasis on others, events, and experiences to offer fulfillment and security. This new challenge has actually brought joy and stability. Working in the visual arts can be a lonely space, but embracing the solitude changes the perspective of being alone.
6. ALWAYS KEEP RUNNING.
I am currently training for my first 50k trail run race. Strava has been tracking most of my runs, and it has totaled 486 miles that I have run this past year. Trail running is one of my great joys and it has built an established way of exploring the new landscapes I find myself in. There have been countless inexpressibly inspiring moments because I went out for another run. As I run, I often think of my students who are some of the hardest workers I know and how much I desire to work in a similar way on what I love. So whether it be running, art or another passion, to continue to work hard at it seems to be an increasingly profitable gain of experience and growth.
7. KEEP IT SIMPLE STUPID.
The Bay Area has many great things going on from music to art to technology and outdoor adventures and thousands of millennials who are looking for the next greatest experience. However, I have found that limiting the experiences to what I love most has been more fulfilling than trying to do everything. I have many great interests, and I am slowly learning to simplify and spend more quality time on the few things that I love rather than trying to gain the experience just for the sake of experience.
8. DON’T BE AFRAID TO BE YOURSELF.
This has been an ongoing lesson of mine to learn for many years and each year, I am more comfortable with the person that I was created in and so grateful for that. At times however, I leave conversation, doubting myself and thinking, was that too much? It seems a funny thing to think that we could be too much of ourselves, when that is precisely who we are made to be. So, I am learning to accept that person who is me and not hide it from the interactions I have with others.
9. FIND THE BEAUTY.
This one is simple: I happened to have moved to one of the most beautiful places in the nation, and I desire to continue to see it that way and not lose the sense of awe I had when first looking out on the beautiful spaces I find myself in.
10. PURSUE THOSE THAT UPHOLD.
Knowing yourself goes hand in hand with knowing those that will uphold and esteem who you are. It doesn’t take too long to find out whether or not that connection will uphold or tear down for the most part. I have learned to pursue those people rather than rely on only natural connections. Pursue those that are open, vulnerable, curious and value your expression.
11. SHOW YOUR WORK.
While my natural inclination is to take any focus off of myself and sit quietly in the shadows, I have found that these actions are in no way helpful for making more connections and esteeming respect for the hard work that is pursued. I used to think it embarrassing to show my artwork or to share success stories in the classroom. However, I have found that if people don’t know, they often will not ask. And in following with pursuing those that uphold, in order for people to uphold, they must see who you are. So, share what you create and how you teach because those are manifestations of who you are.
12. FINISH OFF THE CAKE.
Last lesson: at the end of it, all enjoy it.
Art + Educating + Mindfulness
“You said live out loud, and die you said lightly. And over and over you said be.” -Ranier Rilke I,9
(Caveat: This is an ongoing quest that I am currently in the middle of processing)
Most teachers that I have come into contact with has had a conversation of something of the sort, that we are not fully trained for all of the encounters that we have in and out of the classroom. We are expected to be experts in our field first and foremost, then security providers, caretakers, mentors, career advisers, life coaches, tutors, and some of us provide basic needs for children without. While these things may be mentioned in educational and professional training, nothing can fully prepare for you the interactions and circumstances that arise each year, and are most certain to surprise you. These surprises and sometimes failures of mine have led me to an ongoing search of bringing mindfulness practices into the classroom in order to better my response and awareness of the full spectrum of experience in my job.
Mindfulness started as a personal practice of mine many years ago in order to better attune myself to my body and connect that to mind and spirit. However, I began realizing I could bring some of the practices into the classroom in order to alleviate some of the anxiety I felt in the environment. It started with a group of rowdy 9th graders (sorry 9th graders; you always get a bad rap) coming into my classroom after lunch. Most teachers know the energy levels of post-lunch students who are not motivated in your subject matter. I would run through brief breathing exercises with them and even though giggles and gasps would come from the back row, the overall energy of the room settled and most of all, I was ready to come with more calm and peace to my students. Tich Naht Han states, “When we are mindful, deeply in touch with the present moment, our understanding of what is going on deepens, and we begin to be filled with acceptance, joy, peace and love.”
It is one thing to know how to use mindfulness practices for classroom management, but my deeper search within the practices have arisen as repeated patterns of expressions of anxiety and depression have arisen in the artwork and conversations of many of my students over the years. “In 2017, an estimated 2.3 million adolescents aged 12 to 17 in the United States had at least one major depressive episode with severe impairment. This number represented 9.4% of the U.S. population aged 12 to 17.” From the 9.4% of students, 60% did not receive any treatment (National Institute of Mental Health). And while these numbers are staggering, each of these students have stories that broaden the severity of their experiences and it is us, teachers, that hear each story. I continue to ask myself, what do I, as an art teacher, not a counselor, psychologist or healer bring to these students?
In efforts to seek answers to this question, I have begun training with Mindful Schools, a program training educators to bring mindfulness to the classroom. Studies have proven to make changes in the prefrontal cortex to help better body regulation, self-awareness, emotional regulation, and fear modulation. The prefrontal cortex in an adolescent is still developing and bringing present time awareness and equanimity to a feeling or mind control can help alleviate the triggers from anxiety and trauma. This can be seen in recovering the ability to feel allowing a more connective response to emotions, thoughts and decisions:
w/out mindfulness: stimulus → reaction
w/ mindfulness: stimulus → mindfulness → response. (Mindful Schools)
Whether or not students (or ourselves) are struggling with anxiety or depression, mindfulness can also create greater awareness of the present moment and self-compassion which are necessary foundations to creative thought. Qualities of self-compassion include, being warm and understanding towards ourselves when we suffer, fail or fear judgement; knowing suffering and personal inadequacy are part of the human experience; continuing a balanced approach to our negative emotions; neither suppressing or exaggerating our feelings and asking, what is it like to let go of the idea that another moment will fulfill what is not? Without self-compassion, we block the creative freedom to take risks and make mistakes into a new creation (Mindful Schools). Practicing art can be a mindful experience in and of itself as there is much attention on the present moment and observation, but greater self-compassion in the artmaking experience will allow for a more fluid flow of thought processing and freedom in that present moment. Educator, Cheryl Slean stated, “The mind that is without an agenda, that's not worrying or having an argument with life, that's not anxious or agitated or expecting or craving, that is curious, open and nonjudgmental, is also creative.” Whether a student, a teacher, an artist, or human, practicing mindfulness can deepen our understanding of ourselves without judgment and tune into a present and grounded response to our experiences.
Nhất, H., & Kotler, A. (1991). Peace is every step: The path of mindfulness in everyday life. New York, N.Y: Bantam Books
Mental Health Information. The National Institute for Mental Health. https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/major-depression.shtml
Mindfulness Fundamentals https://www.mindfulschools.org/training/mindfulness-fundamentals/.
Reflections on Reflection
It is that time of year again; the moment every teacher awaits… it’s the end. The end of early mornings, the end of endless questions, the end of scraping paint off sinks and finding hidden crayons in mysterious places, the end of reply all’s and Clorox wipes. Summer break is upon us.
While summer brings the juxtaposed emotions of rewarding relaxation and sadness to lose the inquisitive energy of students around me, it always offers a point of reflection for me as an educator. I find it comforting to have a career that allows me the transitional pattern of time similar to that of nature seen in seasons and the flow of the lunar sequence. As a analytic and possibly cyclical-obsessed, these transitions are necessary for me to interact with in order to follow the ways in which growth is mostly naturally formed.
Reflection allows us to look back, assess, and make plans to move forward. The other day, a 5th grade student made an honest reflection of her artwork. She pointed to an area of paint that had gotten smudged because one wet layer had been added to another and said, “I was in hurry when I did that.” It was a matter-of-fact moment that she may have thought little of, but gave me a greater appreciation for the evidence that art provides to clarify past moments and makes goals for the future.
In our memory, we can dissuade our thoughts based off of our emotional attachment to them. If a memory offers a particular reflective thought that we are not happy with, it is easy to not consider or if a memory holds particular reign over our thoughts, it may become an obsessive repetition of thought. However, the visual impact of art can give clear evidence as to what was happening in the moment and an ability to make decisions based off of that evidence. And as each artwork is made, a new connection to the previous reflection is offered and a new space for creative decisions can me made. Reflection is an active voice rather than a passive one based on reasonable evidence from one learned experience to another. In How We Think, John Dewey states is as this: “The successive portions of the reflective thought grow out of one another and support one another; they do not come and go in a medley. Each phase is a step from something to something — technically speaking, it is a term of thought.” While the Studio Habit of Mind, Reflection has always placed high importance in my curriculum, I think I often have communicated it as a way for students to understand what was learned in the art making process, how to make goals for future projects and a way to offer metacognition. I have not considered how one reflective thought connects to the previous based on the evidence seen firsthand in the artwork in order to connect a new train of creative thought.
It is important to remember that in these moments of reflection as seen in my student’s observation of her artwork, the evaluation or critique may not be obvious unless one is looking closely. Reflection needs the darkness of doubt, exploration and curious observation to bring light to a new thought. If we do not take the time of the unknown or pass by the obvious evidence, we are passive and miss an opportunity for the furthering of our understanding or imagination. Dewey so eloquently states it as this: “As the metaphor of dull and bright implies, some minds are impervious, or else they absorb passively. Everything presented is lost in a drab monotony that gives nothing back. But others reflect, or give back in varied lights, all that strikes upon them. The dull make no response; the bright flash back the fact with a changed quality.”
So, if you are in transition from spring to summer, from new moon to full moon, or just from rest to activity, take a look at the evidence in your artwork, in your life and with momentum make the bright flash of reflection to connect new ideas for growth in your understanding and creativity. As my grad school professor, Dr. Stephen B. Carpenter II made our mantra: “hoping to discover something new in order to provoke reflection/provoking reflection in order to discover something new” because “the unexamined life is not worth living.” (Socrates)
Dewey, J. (1910). How we think. Boston: D.C. Heath & Co.
Hetland, L., Winner E., Veenema S., & Sheridan, K. M. (2013). Studio Thinking 2: The Real. Benefits of Visual Arts Education. New York: Teachers College Press.
Have You Plorked Lately?
“We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.”- George Bernard Shaw
The other day, I had a visit during my 5th grade art classroom from a co-worker and potential new teacher. It may have seemed like madness as there were a variety of materials out, students working with one another and asking me questions for all kinds of assignments. It’s a madness I have gotten used and crave to have in a creative environment, but realize it is a very different experience than your typical classroom experience. My coworker later told me that she had asked a particular student what she was working on and in this student’s typical form, responded boldly and bluntly, “I don’t know!” She had been playing with watercolor mixtures and textures in her sketchbook and was ravenously flipping through pages of new colors.
My immediate response to this story was a feeling of shame. Oh no, I thought, she asked the one student that didn’t know what was going on. I hadn’t succeeded in teaching my objective to my students so that they could retell what they had created or were learning. This is one of the main pedagogies that you are taught as a teacher: to prioritize your objective and make sure your students come away with learned concepts. But as I reflected on this moment and my reaction to it, I thought, maybe this student had it right all along- the objective was to play and there was no outcome to evaluate.
Though I have enjoyed teaching high school students for the past five years, spending time again with younger students has given me more insight into the true forms of innate creativity that adolescents and adults have relearn. One such lesson is to play. We, as adults, have created a distinct dichotomy between playing and working, but children are not aware of any opposition in the two. Corita Kent, a nun, art teacher and artist at the Immaculate Heart College in Los Angeles during the late 1960’s, began to think as a child in her understanding of play. She coined the portmanteau, “plork” to describe the experience necessary in art making of playing and working. Kent stated, “we tend to think of play as abstract, without a goal, and somewhat irresponsible—while work suggests a goal, is specific, and honorable,” but by putting “them together as one responsible act necessary for human advancement.” Somehow, the two work together as one.
John Dewey states, in Art as Experience that, “play as an event is still immediate. But its content consists of a mediation of present materials by ideas drawn from past experience. This transition effects a transformation of play into work, provided work is not identified with toil or labor.” This is also consistent with recent research findings from the LEGO foundation of play experiments “that the children were often deeply engaged in searching for personal meaning as an ongoing process of understanding themselves and their relationship to the environment. For children, play becomes a way of experimenting with the meanings of objects by using their innate curiosity to turn the unfamiliar into something familiar.” Whether adult or child in the act of play, there is meaning connected to the problem finding, problem solving and link of past experiences that occurs. Though the paracosms of our imaginary worlds might fade in adolescence, bringing back dreamlike scenarios through use of words, materials, or ideas could help generate further innovation in our personal, art and work lives. Scott Barry Kaufman and Carolyn Gregoire state in their book, Wired to Create that the “the spirit of play keeps creativity and vitality alive… play and intrinsic joy are intimately connected and create a synergy that adds to greater inspiration, effort,and creative growth.” So, let’s not stop playing to grow old but keep plorking in order to stay young.
Corita Kent and Jan Steward. Learning By Heart: Teachings to Free the Creative Spirit. August 1992. Bantam Books: New York.
John Dewey. Art As Experience. 1958. Capricorn Books: New York.
Scott Barry Kaufman; Carolyn Gregoire. Wired to Create. 2015. Penguin Random House LLC: New York.
Diane B. Jaquith (2011) When is Creativity? Intrinsic Motivation and Autonomy in Children’s Artmaking, Art Education, 64:1, 14-19
Liminal Spaces
Recently, I moved to another city for the first time. As a Sagittarius, I am prone to enjoy new spaces and consistently crave change. And as a creative, the desire to explore unknown places and people drives much of my inspiration and work. However, in the upheaval of an old life to a new, the excitement of change can quickly fade and the fog of reality sets in. In our transient world, I think many people can relate to the dreamlike feeling when observing the new reality with the old memories still firmly set in your mind. It is a strange paradox of emotions in these times that we may feel hopeful optimism to arrive at new levels of understanding of ourselves or new opportunities for success combined with the passing feelings of grief from letting go of a world before and possibly fear in the unknown in what the future holds. Within these paradoxical emotions, we are left alone often to ponder and fight the feelings until we settle in and find our belonging which often leads to transformation in some regard.
As strange of an experience that moving provides, it cannot be otherwise. If the dreamlike fog only led to hopeful optimism, we would be left floating in the clouds or if we retreat to the grief and fears, we are weighed down within the cave that seemingly provides safety, but does not allow us to move forward. Grappling with liminal space of transition is necessary. This has been seen historically from thousands of years of rituals in various cultures and times. The Dutch ethnographer, Arnold van Gennep, describes the rites of passage to have three phases: separation, liminality and incorporation. He states that “liminality refers to an intermediate ritual phase during initiation, in which initiates can be considered either sacred or potentially polluting to the mainstream society because of their anomalous social position. New social rules are commonly taught during the liminal phase, and strong, endearing, and creative bonds often develop between fellow initiates.” Even in many of our daily practices, we walk through rituals in order to make space for the idea of deeper belonging and transformation. As Maslow states, belonging is a primal need but in order to do so, we all must enter into the liminal space of standing “betwixt and between” on the threshold, which generates the Latin meaning of liminality.
Connecting this to art is very much the same. As an art teacher, I see students cringe at the unknown when a project is offered. It is a constant challenge to help students plan out their project or sit in front of a blank canvas to let ideas sift and mold. Their initial reaction is often to make the very first idea they think or see. Or, some will groan with anxiety in not knowing where to begin. They stand between the moment of an idea and creation. And it is agonizing. I also do the same. My heart beats faster when sitting down for the first time in awhile to work on a project. Or my jaw tenses with the pressure I have placed on myself to make something with an outcome. What will it turn out to be? Is it good enough? Will it belong? But, maybe, sitting in the “cloud of unknowing” as Richard Rohr states, and not running from the moment of anxiety to push through to the moment of transformation will lead to a better end. Or maybe it will not lead to an end at all, but another liminal passageway that slowly builds from one to another. The beauty and the agony of making art is that there is no ultimate end. It is a series of liminal spaces with some larger moments of transformation than others, but getting used to the liminal space and appreciating it can go a long way within the process.