Here is another in my continuing series. Enjoy!!!
11) Wealth beyond my wildest dreams.(Note: wealth, as defined by the number of recyclable gifts that come through our studios.)
Yes, keeping an art studio capable of 6.2x10E44 possible art projects stocked and functioning is a 40 hour week all by itself. There's a real possibility that I'm close to the fabled tipping point with my squirreling away of recyclables. Every cabinet in my class is filled. Every corner - who am I kidding? There ARE no corners left. There's one part of the room that used to be a corner in ancient times. It's now the repository of flat cardboard, destined for cutting down into manageable building parts for the 3D center. In that area are also essential extras that we simply can't live without: small sized paper cups, lable-less prescription bottles, clear plastic thingamabobs that make great wheels, flat-folded cereal boxes for medium weight cardboard use, and a thousand extra soda straws. Just in case. Did I mention egg cartons, orphaned socks for future puppets and those great plastic bubble things that protect fragile fruit at Costco? Yep. Rich lady. Me.
12) Sometimes the room breaks out in presidents.Imagine my surprise when a whole roomful of short, shyly smiling presidents appeared just before President's Day. What a coincidence! Presidents are quite serious about their artwork, is is demonstrated by the quite serious faces that day. There's something about a spiffy three-cornered hat that just lends itself to high levels of decorum.
13) I never know which direction a demo will go.
In a TAB classroom, we frequently begin the class period with a short (I shoot for five or six minutes - tops) demonstration of a specific technique. Students can choose to do something with it that day, or, if they have other plans in mind for the time, can revisit the topic of the demo during a later session. This week we talked about contrast in paintings. I shared a technique for outlining subjects in heavy black crayon and then laying down thick tempera - while leaving a bit of white between the black crayon and the color. Kids came up with some neat applications.
14) Joy.Like any classroom, we have occasional upsets. Sometimes an issue seeps through from the playground or someone's day is simply too intense to get through art without doing something beastly. But MOST of the time, we have a deliriously good time. I see joy reflected in proud artist faces, in exuberant work, and in kids' reactions to each other. I think they may have figured me out, too. I get several versions of "Gee, Mz. J. You get to do art all day long. Lucky!" I usually smile and say, "Shhhhh. Your other teacher will want my job if he/she hears. Don't tell!"
15) Fairy Godmothers (and fathers!) abound.Our program has recently been gifted with a brand new sewing machine and benefits from steady volunteer help. Thank you, Pat and Paul. Pat brings her projects and sits alongside the older kids, both to help spark ideas, and to show that the love for art never wanes - even after retirement. Miss Nancy comes three or four days a week to help kinderpeople with their art. She began sharing her gentle guidance when her grandson was a kinderartist but has stayed on because she's so fond of short people when they're in their creative zones. Thanks, Miss Nancy! LOTS of people cull "artables" as they recycle (western Washington is amazingly green) and bring me cardboard rolls, tidy collections of little boxes tucked into each other, and the aforementioned orphaned socks. This list includes lots of anonymous souls, but there are also regulars like Donna, Yvonne, Rachael, Courtney, Conde, Robin, Heather, Karen, the other Karen, and yet another fabulous Karen, Steve, Ron, Kenn, Janis, Merry, and lots of people who just leave gifts outside my door or in my mailbox. Both Sue and Porfirio stop by just to smile at artists at work and to ask questions as they validate kids' efforts, and lots of visitors beam their way through our little corner of the school, accompanied by Dr. Warner as he's giving tours related to what we do. Once in a while a visitor will be curious enough to come for a return visit. Voila! The artists at Evergreen have a new friend and advocate!
It doesn't just take a village to raise a child. It takes a whole learning community. This is a great one in which to nest.
Take one moist (this is the Pacific Northwest, after all) spring, add fragile spring bulbs, a generous friend or two, and you have a drive by daffodilling. How does that work, you ask? Simply place a vase with bright flowers in the center of the painting center and turn the kids loose. Sometimes I like to sit with them, scribbling my own ideas onto rough paper and playing with endlessly fascinating layers of transparent color. Sometimes not. If kids are allowed to explore their own ideas of how to bring flowers to life, it's a cleaner, purer process.
This group was fairly quiet during their daffodil encounter. I heard soft voices as they discussed a bit of color and a bit of technique, but voices never rose above comfortable friendship. The different results were interesting. Two artists chose the splashy heaviness of undiluted tempera for their flowers and, as friends often do, shared more than a few strokes in common. The third chose quieter watercolor from the Crayola pans/Prang refilles trays that are available in the center. I heard her thinking aloud about the differences between her painting and those of her friends and she was a little unsure whether she liked the result. My students are wise to my, "Tell me what you think about your piece." kinds of noises, and I sensed a desire from all three for a little more recognition of what they were doing. I'm a stubborn teacherperson, though, and I stuck to my guns (paint pots?) pointing out the specifics I saw: "You chose bright colors and wiggling lines here; I see the curve of the stem of the flower here; You decided to stress the outline with ink; You enlarged the flowers to give your picture strength." In that way I show that what they're doing impacts me but don't lay my values on top of their work before its finished. I also model the way we talk our way through the creative process sometimes.
The period is always too short. Without exception, there are howls of protest when I ring the cleanup bell, but their artwork is just like a snapshot of time. When these kiddos look at their pictures in coming years they'll remember this day, the friends who sat and painted beside them, and a little about the flowers that inspired them.
I'm certain the daffodils approve.
I've been pondering the timing for a print center for some time now. It's always been there on my list - right after fabric arts and just before clay. I spent lots of time digging for good examples of kid-based printing, filtering through reference books in bookstores, checking with peers for tips and tricks, and going back through the archives in the TAB Yahoo Groups list. Like all of my best fun, it wasn't as much a question of what to include as it was the elemental, "How on earth can I make all of this fit in a single center?" question. I inherited quite a few tubes of water-based printer ink, brayers, carving tools, and some clever students with boundless energy.
After visiting the lumberyard for a thick sheet of Plexiglass to cut up for monoprinting (and lots of other fun things) I spent the long weekend playing with color and paper. This week's kids have done a fabulous job experimenting with things and have created some stunning work. We have ink (aka tempera) under all our fingernails and some spiffy prints to show off to our families.
For now, we're most intrigued with monoprints (mostly manipulating paint on the Plexi-sheets with combs and craft sticks) and making our own stamps with styrofoam and pencils. Fun!
Tasks for the weekend - rigging something above the printmaking table that will hold drying prints. Sharing the paint center's racks is a traffic jam.
Enjoy the pictures -