Excerpts: The Package

Piano Lesson Memories

This is part of a series I am working on about my history of music education.

Don't Listen to the Data Monster.

Stare at the data monster right in the face in my studio. I'll give you a snack. A series of drawings/comic pieces/illustrated writings will be on display at my studio during our open house happening October 18th and 19th, 12-4pm at the West Carroll Art Studios at 3200 W. Carroll (at Kedzie) in Chicago. It is part of the Chicago Artists Month events going on all over town. http://chicagoartistsmonth.org/west-carroll-open-studios

The Looking Stool

In my art room, all of the stools are painted by students from years past. When a stool painting starts to fade or get chipped away, it is taken out of rotation and someone from art club usually paints a new design. These stools become well-known icons in the room. Some students race into the room so they can sit on their favorite stool. They are, in effect, putting their bottom on the very image that they adore but they want to "have and to hold" that stool for the 45 minute class period. There are several students that love the Batman stool in particular. The only problem is that the bat logo has completely worn off. There are no signs of Batman anymore. It must have never had a sealant coat put on it. Nevertheless, the stool is still coveted. They race to get close to the Looking Stool, to an invisible image.  I guess it is why we stare at historic plaques and gravestones. It's just enough to recall an image for us that was once there. And it seems we humans want to get close to our images. 

Here is a short talk by the artist Lynda Barry about the power of the image:

You never walk the same path twice.

 It is an enormous privilege to spend extended periods of time with middle school students who are growing almost as fast as an infant's brain.  I can literally see them growing, both in height and intellect. I care so deeply about these students, it physically pulls at my heart. While I was on a run the other day, one of the eerily warm 60 degree January days, I felt light opening out of what some people call my heart chakra. It was an orange light. I painted a quick sketch of it (below.) I think the weather and a hardy run helped, but I attribute it to thinking about the enormous responsibility of being someone's teacher. I was not on drugs, everyone, just warm weather endorphins and sensing a real connection with my students! After the awful obligatory task of reducing a student's learning in art class to a letter grade, I set to reading my mini-surveys they filled out at the end of the semester. I realize more deeply how the smallest and biggest choices I make in the classroom can impact a student. No letter grade or scoring rubric will show that. I love these young people and I'm learning how to show that.

Another part of teaching art to middle school students is emphasizing the importance of respecting your space and the materials you use. Sometimes the emotional maturity needed to perform these tasks (i.e., participate in clean-up time) can only be described through theatrical interpretation by Paul Rudd:

One Dark Chicago Night...

...[okay, DIGITALLY REMASTERED and REFORMATED so you can actually READ IT, sorry!]...

I'm behind on, like, 17 new posts. Here's a detailed account of my purse getting stolen this week...a little winter break comic indulgence.  Happy Holidays!

Where is your light source?

I had the privilege of meeting the inspiring, insightful, "illuminating", and hilarious cartoonist Lynda Barry this week in a roundtable discussion at SAIC. I even mustered the courage to show her some of my own drawings from my very prolific period called: 1st through 3rd grade. She inspired me to go back to my own childhood drawings and remember what I was thinking then.

This pencil drawing is from the pad of paper that was always kept by the phone to take messages. I was 6 years old and my mom had the wisdom to hold onto it. I'm guessing I was thinking about the sewer system underneath the streets. I'm not sure if the lady's careful disposal of trash despite her unruly elbow was an early comment on environmental action. Lynda Barry did mention that I had a keen sense of light sources in my drawings. Sure enough, the drawing above includes the car's headlights in the background. Lynda included a light source above my name when she signed my copy of her book, One!Hundred!Demons!. She just plain rocks and has become my newest light source.