Category Archives: Art

Podcasts from the museum

I’m not sure how into podcasts you are, so at the risk of assuming too much or too little, I want to share something with you.

I got into podcasts during grad school, when I had an hour long transit trip to and from campus each day. I was studying in the US, and although I scoffed at the introductory workshops for international students when they warned of culture shock, I was fully and completely in its throes. So I picked one that I had heard years before on the radio, and remembered that I liked, because I hoped it would help me relate to my new home. It was called: This American Life.

Each episode shares stories around a theme, usually from a journalist or other interesting person, told in narrative and conversational form. Often they’re surprising, heartwarming, shocking, or funny, in some combination. My favorite though, is all of those and of course, it’s got a museum theme.

I’ve been holding off on writing this blog post, because I wasn’t sure how to share this one show with you, without spoiling the episode. While doing a bit of research, I learned just how many museum based podcasts there are… SOO MANY. There’s just a whole lot, and at the risk of stereotyping museums, a fair number of them are boring. I thought if I share some that I’m pretty sure aren’t boring it might be helpful. Plus, with a list I can tell you about This American Life without writing about the story, so you can hear it for yourself. So, here’s a few humble recommendations:

1. This American Life’s “The Feather Heist.” This episode provides a starting off point for a lot of interesting thinking to me. Some of my favorite themes to think with include the “value” of collections and to whom, security in museums and our obligations to collections in relation to our budgets, and the global impacts of fashion (which museums are definitely implicated in, although my wardrobe is not good evidence of this).

2. Everything is Alive‘s “Connor, Painting”. This show is a really interesting way to think about objects. The premise is a talk show in which the host interviews objects, who tell their life story. It’s a perfect fit for the “empathy” theme that directs our work in Open Minds, and it’s super fun to listen to. Just a warning:  there is some sexual innuendo in this episode. Although the magic trick of sexualizing a painting is pretty hilariously bizarre, it might not make sense for young ears.

3. NHM LA Talks by Natural History Family of Museums Los Angeles County. This podcast has too many good episodes to name. Today I listened to one called “Mostly Dead is Slightly Alive” which turned out to be about zombies, neuroscience, and history. The series explores a variety of topics from across the sciences, with perspectives from academics, museum folk, and a whole bunch of plain old fascinating people. This podcast also has an episode about the subject of the feather heist, so you could cross-reference.

4. Working’s How does a Museum Specialist Work? This podcast from Slate explores “what people do all day at their jobs” It has so many interesting episodes for young minds, (umm… but also some episodes that are NSFW, so… use with discretion), including a whole pile of museum related episodes about working as an art auctioneer, an archaeologist, a librarian, a set of jobs at MoMA, and a few jobs from the museum world’s unruly cousins: aquariums. This episode is about Mary Elliott, a curator with the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History & Culture, the newest Smithsonian institution on the National Mall. I’ll be honest, this podcast has a bit of a slow burn for me, but even just the idea of it opens some interesting thoughts.

5.  Intangible Alberta by the Royal Alberta Museum. This homegrown podcast is pretty new, and only has a few episodes. I listened to one called Ghosts in the Vault, which  probably isn’t great for nervous folks. But, ghosts are sort of friends of museums, and their presence is often a source of wonder for kids. There’s some interesting space in this episode to think about how stories are constructed, and respect for people and belongings.

Bonus:  You’re Wrong About‘s Yoko Ono Broke Up the Beatles: This podcast uses NSFW language, but I threw this episode in here because their whole ethos is looking deeper and allowing things to be as complicated as they really are + Contemporary Calgary has a YOKO exhibit coming up this spring!

All of these podcasts are free either directly from the web, or from a variety of podcasting apps, but send me a message if you have any trouble finding them. Oh, and if you’ve heard some good ones, let me know!

 

The Value of an Idea

This week, you may have seen a banana taped to well… something. These funny yellow interventions have been popping up across walls (both material, and digital), and other surfaces all week. This is because of the one used in Maurizio Cattelan’s piece “Comedian” at Miami’s Art Basel, which sold for $120,000.

merlin_165616527_d76f38fc-e45d-4913-9780-1cc939750197-articleLarge

I’ve scrolled through some interesting conversations about this banana, but I generally try to stay away from digital debate, so I hadn’t said too much about it – until the kids started complaining. One of the young folks in my life is an emerging artist, she was super annoyed about the price the work fetched, given the minimal amount of technical skill used by the artist to make it – specifically relative to the amount of work she puts into her art. At that moment… I realized that, finally… all my years of arts based education had prepared me for a real life situation!!! And… what’s more, I thought if any of you were struggling to explain to your art-aware students why a banana taped to a wall means so much to so many people, I could possibly help.

Let’s start with meaning, this peice isn’t really about a banana. It’s about an idea. This type of work is called conceptual art, which is a practice in which the artist is using the materiality of the piece to draw our attention to an idea. The idea IS the art – the materials just help the artist explain it.

Conceptual art emerged with post-structuralism, which asks us to re-think our relationships to concepts and ideas. The theory goes like this:  some basic structural knowledge is necessary for us to understand any concept be it supposedly simple (like say, a banana) or complex (like say, economics). Banana is just a word, it could mean anything really, but in our culture, we know what a banana is (usually yellow, sometimes brown, fruit, grows in hot climates, etc.), and what it isn’t (a car, a skateboard, a color, a hat). A post-structural approach asks us to be mindful of the structures that allow our common understandings. BECAUSE a banana could be (and has been) a car, a skateboard, a color, and a hat – and many other things. We borrow and use parts of things to build a scaffolding that holds up meaning in our society - if I tell you this link leads to a picture of a banana car, you already have an idea what that looks like because you know what both a banana and a car “are”. Post-structuralists, like conceptual artists, are asking us to think about that “are” – they draw our attention to things that we take for granted, and ask us to examine them.

So what sort of things does a banana taped to a wall make us think more deeply about? What scaffolding is it using? For me, there’s three main reference points of banana in my life: banana as food commodity, banana as comedic foil, & banana as weapon in Donkey Kong. These reference points are of course individual, so there’s as many of them as there are people, but they’re also cultural: there are shared ideas about what bananas are and what they do that many people agree on.

When I’m looking at this work, I wonder if Cattelan is using the complex issues of the global trade of the banana to comment on commercialization in the art world? Conceptual art is, in many ways, a response to the commerciality of other forms of visual art, because it generally eschews collection, display, and aesthetic value (the purchasers of the piece in this case will get a certificate that allows them permission to mount it, using direction and specifications written by the artist). For example, this work had to be taken down before the end of the show, because of fears of damage. Thinking along these lines, leads us to wonder about the banana as perishable. Is Cattelan asking us to think about the ways that art traditions change over time, their depreciation and appreciation, and their relationships with (or apart from, due to conservation) lifecycles?

The banana was also famously used (by comedians), as a sight gag. It would be tossed, and someone would slip. That slip was not usually understated. Most often it’s an epic fall that causes the unfortunate person to land on their bottom – a reframing of their world if you will, to a new horizontal perspective. This reference has such a strong place in collective memory that it has been built into the fabric of contemporary culture through video games. Donkey Kong hasn’t had his own game since around 2014 (for Nintendo DS), but tossing a banana peel to foil your enemy is an classic element of the iconic game Mario Cart. When you toss a banana in game, you cause your opponent to slip up. If done correctly, this causes the player to lose standing, thereby reframing the in-game world. Is Cattelan demanding us to look at art through a reframing, a new viewpoint, as if we had slipped on the peel? Or is he saving us from slipping, because it’s taped to the wall? Is he asking us to see the absurdity in the piece, and apply it to other works as well?

I could go on wondering, and we haven’t even got to the duct tape yet, but I think I’ve made my point… It doesn’t matter exactly what Cattelan wanted to direct our attention to, because we have paid attention to the work, and brought ourselves to it. We’ve used it to explore ideas. Although this work is clearly complex, with many interesting ideas inside, it makes sense to focus in on the role of comedians, who hold up a mirror to society and ask us to laugh at what we see.

I wish we had one at the museum! If we did, I’d ask students what they know about bananas, (or duct tape) and let their responses lead us into interesting rabbit holes, complex ideas, and deeply personal stories. The upshot is, I’m planning to do that with the other art that’s here anyways.

P.S. Earlier in this post I made a joke here about my educational background, and it’s an easy joke to make, low hanging fruit really – but in actual fact, I  believe that university training, especially in the arts, is a really valuable skillset that has prepared me to navigate the complexities of life (both professional and personal) in important ways. I’m a huge advocate of educational opportunities that speak to the needs of the whole person, which I feel like art approaches better than a lot of other disciplines.

P.P.S. You should know that David Datuna (another conceptual artist) ate the banana as a performance piece, and brilliantly described it as putting a question mark, after Cattelan’s question mark. Also, Cattelan has worked in with duct tape before.

P.P.P.S. $120,000 may be a lot for a banana (we could keep talking about the comoditiy trade and global poervty here) but it’s not a lot for a contemporary piece from an important artist like Cattelan who had another work recently blow up in pop culture. Many works sold for millions at Art Basel Miami this year.

Open Mind – Outsider Art

For those of you coming to the museum this spring we’ve got an interesting exhibit on deck. It’s a photography show, the art of Vivian Maier. I’m not well versed enough in photography to be able to speak to this work in a more meaningful way than Glenbow has already used… here’s what our team has to say about it:

“Vivian Maier’s life has proven to be one of the most enduring and fascinating art world narratives of the last decade. The story of this Chicago-based nanny who pursued photography in her spare time inspired an Oscar-nominated documentary film and several books. Through her furtive pastime, Maier eventually amassed more than 2,000 rolls of film, 3,000 prints and more than 120,000 negatives, which she shared with virtually no one in her lifetime.”

I’ll admit, I’m not particularly interested in the content of this show (she says before it opens, then usually falls in love). BUT… I am absolutely fascinated with the legal and ethical complexities of outsider art - particularly pieces where the maker has died.

For me, Maier’s work implies an important question – what is art?

While she was alive, most of Maier’s photographs were undeveloped. Not much is known about her, but there are a few important details that can help us approach thinking about her work. It seems that she was not well resourced. Shortly before she passed away, she was depending on the help of the now-grown children she once looked after, for financial support. Those who she worked for also suggest that she was an extreme collector, sometimes in possession of stacks and stacks of newspapers (I’m not sure how to take this, doesn’t it make her sound like an archetypical hoarder? Almost too perfectly so). Likewise, her previous employers and their networks give conflicting accounts of her personality – some indicate she was like a “real life Mary Poppins” while others say she was frightening and abusive. The case I’m trying to make here is that she was vulnerable in complex ways, and I wonder if her photographs should be considered “art” or an expression of her struggles. To put it another way, I wonder about her intention.

What does it mean to make art? Is it a universal human expression? Or a western construct with particular modalities and frameworks? Does the maker’s intention matter?

Another person who has been made into an outsider artist posthumously is Henry Darger. His vulnerability was much less opaque, raised in an institution, escaped at sixteen, living on the verge of abject poverty, and attending Catholic mass up to five times daily, Darger clearly lived with hardship. Upon his death, his landlords discovered his work: 15 145 page volumes of a piece entitled The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What Is Known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion, along with hundreds of illustrations in watercolor collage. They had his entire apartment preserved, and unbeknownst to him, Darger has become one of America’s most important outsider artists.

Darger’s life in particular gives me pause – what right have we to his work? Neither he, not Maier seemed to have intention to share their productivity with the world. Was this because they didn’t have access to art world connections? Because they were too impoverished to spare resources towards promotion? Because they lacked self-confidence that their work would be valued or understood? Or because they weren’t making art, they were in fact making something else. What if that something else was deeply personal? What if they never intended to share it (indeed, they clearly didn’t).

I have debated and discussed the ethical concerns I have with this type of outsider art in a sort of green eggs and ham style for many years now, and not come to many solid conclusions.  Much greater minds than mine have puzzled over the financial questions of this work, which adds still more layers of complexity to consideration. In the case of Meier, possession of the negative isn’t the same as holding copyright, and courts have long discussed who owns the rights to share and sell her work.

One thing I do know: I and many others have gotten a lot of enjoyment from outsider art (perhaps not to the degree that John Maloof, the primary dealer of Maier’s works who purchased them at auction for a pittance, does). Both of them have inspired several films. Darger’s work is set to music by the band Vivian Girls, named for his central protagonists, and can be seen in video games, comic books, literature, and poetry. In the spring, I imagine many Calgarians will benefit from Maier’s work as well, maybe finding beauty, inspiration, or self reflection in the photographs.

As I’m looking, I’ll wonder whether our enjoyment is justification for what I think, is probably, a kind of theft. She didn’t share this with the world, it was taken, without her permission, and shared. But I’ll also wonder whether the dead should have more rights than the living, and whether maybe she would have shared it if she had the chance.

You might be wondering if it’s appropriate of me to be asking these questions, considering my place at the museum. I think asking questions like this about art makes our experiences with it more rich. I think we owe it to our mission as museums to ask important questions, and to engage ourselves fully and complexly while we look. To enjoy, and to ask ourselves about our enjoyment, what allows us to experience it? What privileges, what paradigms, what laws, what actions… So far from dreading the arrival of this new exhibit which stirs complex feelings in me  - I can’t wait till it’s here.

 

Summer School Part Two

Well, it’s  October, the snow is already here… and I’m finally getting around to blogging about the summer.  BUT – as a student said to me today “I didn’t get everything in my journal, but that’s okay! I’ll just add more later!!” I’m going to adopt that forgiving and flexible attitude and move on.

So let me share a bit more about my summer… We usually do a lot of intentional learning while we’re not working with students – this year we had two intensive sessions as a team at Glenbow. First we worked with Lana Skauge & Ewa Sniatycka in the museum, to experiment with ways to inject embodied learning into our work, and to accommodate different learning styles. After working with them I’m planning to practice asking students to pair before they share more, to see if it helps the shy ones speak, and I’m going to focus less on asking them to present their work, and more on letting them discuss it together.

We also had an incredible opportunity to work with Blackfoot knowledge keeper Harley Bastien in Castle Wildland Provincial Park. He and a parks staff person led us on a walk, and shared stories about different types of beings in the area, and how they relate to each other. Bastien reminded us that people are part of the landscape, and that our presence in nature is and always has been constant. This gave us all lots to think about.

Marnie and I spent some time with educators passionate about learning though the arts at a gathering of InSEA this summer too. In addition to learning lots of practical ways that arts education can be engaging, we immersed ourselves in some really fun arts projects, which was so rewarding. The art that I made is… well. Not very nice to look at. But making it, in the company of others, was a real highlight of my summer. I think I’ll keep trying to make things (that hopefully look a little nicer) with the techniques I learned, so it was a great reminder that not all projects succeed at first go.

The last part of my summer I spent in Montreal, for a very full week of museum hopping. I was on the look out for a few specific things, especially related to design, so I was able to see a lot of different spaces in a fairly short amount of time. The absolute highlights for me were seeing the Biospehere museum, which gave me so much hope for the climate of the planet and all the cool things folks in different disciplines are doing to respond to it… and the Fondation Phi exhibit about Yoko Ono. Here’s a photo from my summer journal about it.

thumbnail_image1

 

Places for Understanding Who We Are

In early march, we had a (n actually, not so rare) bit of serendipity at Museum School. As John Ware School was preparing to use the Museum as a place to investigate the connections between citizenship and identity, Glenbow had just opened a contemporary exhibit about artist’s experience of place! The gallery’s pieces, including ‘s Jim Me Yoon’s Regard (which in itself is a reflection of Jim Me Yoon’s moving Group of Sixty Seven), Kimowan Metchewais’ Cold Lake Venus, and Maxwell Bates’ Tourists in Victoria, provided rich opportunities for us to examine national culture, what it means to be Canadian, and how place and identity are related.

If that wasn’t enough, by pure chance, the Glenbow Museum was also selected as a site to host a Citizenship Ceremony on the last day of John Ware student’s visit!

There were a few strokes of luck here, firstly, that everyone at ICC was so very accommodating when we told them we wanted to bring 30 extra people, and their journals, to their ceremony. Secondly, that the students were exactly the special people that they were, because the ceremony was both long and incredibly important; these students fully embraced the need for them to witness, and not detract from the moment for the new Canadians. Thirdly, that their teacher is exactly who she is, because from the moment that we knew we had this amazing opportunity she embraced it, providing scaffolding for the students to understand the ceremony and connecting it to their learning.

Afterwards, the students expressed how surprised they were to see the diversity of the new Canadians, who were of varying ages from very young to senior, and who were from countries across the globe. They also told us how moved they were to watch the expressions of the new Canadians as pride, happiness, and even tears lit across their faces. They were impressed by the seriousness and formality of the event, and noted that when you are living in a culture, it’s hard to identify what makes is unique; but that this was a  Canadian ritual, proof of our distinct culture.

There were several special guests who presided over the ceremony, member of parliament for Calgary Center Kent Herr, Chair of the Glenbow Board of Directors Irfhan A. Rawji, respected Blackfoot Elder Clarence Wolfleg, and author and philosopher John Ralston Saul. We noted the different ways each one welcomed the newcomers based on their own culture and identity, with campaign style speeches, warm personal connections, prayer, and advice.

The highlight for me, was when we finished the week with a sharing circle, sitting under the contemplative eyes of Yoon, and her mother in the Regard works. The portraits told us that there were many meanings to the place we were sitting, and reminded us to be thoughtful about be the people we are, and the place we live.

KHS01482-min KHS01820-min

 

This post was made for the Campus Calgary Open Minds Blog then re-posed here. Head on over there to check out all the interesting things happening at sites around the city!

Holiday Season

If you’re like me, you get a bit wound up about the “holiday season” and its modern cultural implications. In the museum/heritage field, I think its perhaps more common to obsess over ritual, belief, tradition, and preservation of these things. Our everyday thoughts are concerned with the story and the symbols of our culture. I guess I’m concerned that when we do something ritual (from brushing our teeth, to putting up a holiday tree), I know why, and I can confirm in my heart that I believe in its rightness. When mom is hard at work baking cookies I’m not much help, staring with wonder and excitement into the gingerbread, but still asking “why”?

So, in answer to that very important question – the Tate offers giant slugs. Because meaning is what you make it, and we’ve all got a hand in making the traditions, rituals, and beliefs that we pass on – whatever we want those to be!

3812

Making an impact

Did you know that there have been studies of the long term impact of Open Minds sites? (Maybe I already mentioned it)

Gillian Kydd, who pioneered the program made a video recording of students who participated in Zoo school 7 years earlier. Through that experience we learned some interesting (if slightly anecdotal) things, including:

- Students remember tactile and sensory things (like smells and playing with snow)

-Students don’t often recall programs, or activities that they did. They remember the things they saw more than the tasks they completed

- Upon reflection, the students realized that the experience taught them that there were more ways to learn than the “classroom method” and that these other ways were valid and important

- Each participant shared their intended career path, and attributed that path to something they learned at Zoo School (so the learning is deep, and the lessons are sustained although perhaps not immediately recognizable)

And…

- Students totally forget facilitators, but they have strong memories of their teacher and parents (if they participated) from that time.

This idea is well established in research – emotion and learning are closely connected and student teacher bonds are an important part of student success.

 

But don’t worry – we don’t get down on ourselves because we’re ultimately forgotten! Because for the brief period that your students are here, we know we’ve captured their attention.

Thank you Marnie! from Nakoda AV Club on Vimeo.

 

 

Second Nature

So I said I would start putting more of my journal pages in the blog, and here I am making good on my promise. When the new exhibits went up this fall, I thought I had forever to spend with them. Now that Lawren Harris‘ works have gone, DaveandJenn‘s The Wellspring has moved on, and Jennifer Wanner‘s Second Nature is going dark this week… I can’t help but think I NEED MORE TIME!!!

I did take an afternoon to spend with Wanner’s beautiful images before the holiday started  – and I used one of the classic thinking routines: See Think Wonder. Using three columns, make note first of what you see, then what you think, then what all those combined make you wonder. Seems a bit basic, but once you try it, you get a sense of actually how helpful it is for organizing your thoughts. Or even just moving your observations to a deeper level. Next time you’re standing in front of something and not quite sure how to feel (which, for me is basically all the time), and give it a try in your head.

My sketchbook entry & an example of the thinking routine See Think Wonder

My sketchbook entry & an example of the thinking routine See Think Wonder

This is the last weekend to see Wanner’s haunting and beautiful exhibition Second Nature at Glenbow, so you’ve still got time if you haven’t seen it yet.

Not that we don’t have some great shows coming up next….

Making the making visible – the Black Gold Tapestry

 

If you haven’t heard about it yet… well, you’re about to. The Glenbow just opened a hand full of brand new exhibits (and I mean a handful! Everyone around here has been so busy, building walls, tearing down walls, painting walls… we do a lot with walls here).

One of the most talked about has been the Black Gold Tapestry. A recent Museum School student described it as “basically the history of the whole world but through the idea of oil.” The piece is 67 metres in length – a scale equivalent to two city blocks or the height of a 20-story building. The artist, Sandra Sawatzky, spent an average of eight to ten hours a day – every day – on the project, researching, drawing, planning and embroidering… for nine years! NINE YEARS.

If you’ve ever done any hand embroidery, you know just how much work an undertaking of this size is. I’m currently embroidering my Halloween costume, and frankly I’m even starting to bet against myself that I’ll have it done in time.

black-gold-tapestry-1

This is one of those pieces where the craft really reveals itself in the viewer’s experience. Often on the first day of museum school students will say things like “that’s art?! I could make that” (by the end of the week, that sentiment is long gone, and replaced with a much more reverent “I understand how much work went into that.”) Sometimes the mark of great art is to remove the technical, and allow the viewer to interact directly with the subject – in other words, to make the labor invisible. This definitely isn’t the case with the Black Gold Tapestry. When you view it, you cannot escape the time that the artist spend with her material, and so in addition to the story the work tells, you can also get a direct sense of the story of the person who made it.

Maybe this is why, when Sawatzky popped into museum school last week, the students nearly died. (Not literally, I mean that they nearly died like I did that time I met Fred Penner). It felt to them like meeting a celebrity – not to say that she isn’t, I don’t decide such things – and they were beside themselves with awe.

Personally I’m  curious about the decisions she made, because this is a piece that purports to tell a story about ourselves, but it’s very clearly from Sandra’s own point of view. So at the same time, the Tapestry shows us who Sandra is (through the medium she is ever present) but it attempts to obscure her perspective, by placing the story she tells in historic terms. Some of her decisions around color are particularly revealing, and I could see how some visitors may be shocked by the ways she’s used it. (Shocked may be too polite a word…) I think this is a piece that will certainly ignite debate!

Come check it out and see what you think.

 

 

Go ahead and sketch with them

sketch by amanda

Early sketch by Amanda – [not pictured, a dinosaur I drew yesterday that looks exactly the same]

By the time I come into your classrooms to introduce the idea of sketching… it’s not really an introduction. Most students have begun drawing at least a bit, and (hopefully) you’ve been working with them on their sketching too.

But what if you’re not particularly “artistically inclined?”

I’ll be honest, I feel like I hit a plateau in my drawing some time around age 14. I knew how to copy line drawings, but I had no clue how to move into drawing from life, and was worlds away from being able to draw real people (I do however have a very large, yet unimpressive, collection of anime style drawings of myself and all my teenage idols). I didn’t know how to learn more about drawing. I had heard (and said) that practice will make you better – but to be honest, after a certain point, your practice also needs to involve a great deal of reflection and analysis, which I didn’t know how to do.

Getting to that point is like shooting a basketball a million times and still missing the hoop. If you don’t know the technique to improve, you likely won’t.

So practice isn’t just about sitting alone and trying over and over, we are social creatures and we develop skills through the study of others.

I never cared enough that my drawing skills were nothing to brag about at parties, so when I hit that plateau, I just quit.

But – since being in Museum School, I’ve had to dust off those drawing skills. Marnie encouraged me, and told me that if I was getting the students to sketch, then I should be prepared to do it too…and absolutely she was right. I connect best with your students when we’re sitting on the floor sketching together. We wonder together, I stop answering questions, and I start asking them.

I learn a lot from watching your students sketch. Their technique, and their perspective. It has taken me some time to figure out how to crack open a conversation and learn from the students while we draw, and I don’t always get there, but when I do it’s awesome.

The other thing I learned is how to draw better. Literally. I took a class. (Okay – so all of us Calgary Campus Open Minds School folks had a super interesting lesson with Ron Wigglesworth, big thanks to everyone who made that happen). It was really stressful for me, way outside my comfort zone, but I think I learned a lot.

Letting yourself learn is an important activity for teachers. I think that when I am drawing beside your students I am letting myself learn too. It changes the dynamic between us.

I’m not going to try and tell you what I learned at the workshop. All I want to share is that it was good to be together working to improve a skill with others, being open to comments and suggestions, and learning from someone with an inspiring vision and a thoughtful approach.

I don’t really think that being a “good artist” would help me be a better educator. But I do think that the skills of sitting and reflecting, looking in new ways, and being critical of my work (or my impact) do help me be the best self I can be for working with your students. That’s also what I’m asking for from them.

 

I think sketching helps me practice that, and sketching together becomes our common learning experience.  We learn together.