As a visual artist, I am not collegiate-trained. I wanted to take art in high school, but it conflicted with the required science classes to which I was assigned. I dutifully followed the path that the adults around me laid out and didn't draw again for many years. After my son was born, I decided to learn how to paint "the right way". Spoiler: there is no right way. Taking art classes teaches you the language of the subject, techniques that are proven, and a structure for practicing and finding your own voice.
Creativity in the arts is really just a matter of setting restrictions (creating a problem) and determining how to resolve the image/composition/scene given those restrictions. For example, when learning about how to use color, limiting the palette to tertiary colors, or complementary colors with non-adjacent additives, and so on teaches why certain colors seem to work well together. I loved taking color theory classes. It was fun. I didn't have to think about anything but the magic happening when I mixed the paint. My favorite, however, was learning about the invisible power of composition. Once you learn the language of weight, balance, focal point, leading eye lines, contrast, etc., you see all images in a new way.
The average viewer (person looking at the art) should not be able to figure out why a piece is so compelling, just that he/she/they cannot take their eyes off of the image. My mentor, Chery Baird, taught me that the composition, as the underlying structure of the page, is more important than what the image is meant to be. "A strong composition can carry a weak painting," I remember her telling us.
So back to the idea of restrictions. I favor abstract painting over realism. Anyone can learn how to render an image of a person or animal or building with enough drawing practice. A true artist moves away from what is obvious and allows the image to develop without knowing where it is going. Creative artists are speaking through their art. They are experimenting. People who look at what they perceive as a blank canvas and say, "Hell, I could do that!" have no background in art history to understand why a square of white paint is so important. The Abstract Expressionist movement is not about throwing paint. It is about finding different ways to interact with the materials. Those who don't know much about Jackson Pollock think they could splatter paint on a big canvas, too. No, they can't. Not like Pollock. Underlying those drips are mathematical formulas. Pollock, in his brilliance, created a composition based on fractals, without realizing it. Are you a doubter? Here's proof. If you've never studied color field painting, then you would look at Ellsworth Kelly's work and think it was ridiculous. You'd be missing out.
I loved teaching art history to my students. My methodology was not "memorize these slides," as is so often the case in higher level education. I taught art history as the result of what was happening in the world at that moment in time. Because these students were simultaneously learning about world history in social studies, the projects students created were sourced from deeper understanding, not simply following a set of instructions. They created timelines aligning major world events with major art movements. They researched and taught one another. It was magical for me as a teacher, especially when a student who later chose art therapy as her profession told me she learned more about art history from me than she did in multiple college courses. Having that positive impact on students is why I remain a teacher, despite how difficult the job has become.
Every school has its issues. Rather than complain, rage against the machine, I chose to move positions. I didn't foresee that I would be giving up my artistry by moving to a new classroom. But I did. I stopped calling myself an artist, yet I clung to my email address that includes the word artist. That, in and of itself is a statement. I continue to infuse the instruction with creative methodologies and opportunities for students to express themselves visually, but I'm no longer "the art teacher." I've come to terms with what I sacrificed when I accepted my current role. However, I haven't found the balance between the innate need to create and the time it takes to meet my own high standards as a teacher. It is an ongoing struggle. Most teachers struggle with work-life balance, and my situation leans more towards figuring out how to be an artist yet still make a living wage that supports my family. It will surprise no one to know that the challenges are extreme. More about this in the next post.
Creativity in the arts is really just a matter of setting restrictions (creating a problem) and determining how to resolve the image/composition/scene given those restrictions. For example, when learning about how to use color, limiting the palette to tertiary colors, or complementary colors with non-adjacent additives, and so on teaches why certain colors seem to work well together. I loved taking color theory classes. It was fun. I didn't have to think about anything but the magic happening when I mixed the paint. My favorite, however, was learning about the invisible power of composition. Once you learn the language of weight, balance, focal point, leading eye lines, contrast, etc., you see all images in a new way.
The average viewer (person looking at the art) should not be able to figure out why a piece is so compelling, just that he/she/they cannot take their eyes off of the image. My mentor, Chery Baird, taught me that the composition, as the underlying structure of the page, is more important than what the image is meant to be. "A strong composition can carry a weak painting," I remember her telling us.
So back to the idea of restrictions. I favor abstract painting over realism. Anyone can learn how to render an image of a person or animal or building with enough drawing practice. A true artist moves away from what is obvious and allows the image to develop without knowing where it is going. Creative artists are speaking through their art. They are experimenting. People who look at what they perceive as a blank canvas and say, "Hell, I could do that!" have no background in art history to understand why a square of white paint is so important. The Abstract Expressionist movement is not about throwing paint. It is about finding different ways to interact with the materials. Those who don't know much about Jackson Pollock think they could splatter paint on a big canvas, too. No, they can't. Not like Pollock. Underlying those drips are mathematical formulas. Pollock, in his brilliance, created a composition based on fractals, without realizing it. Are you a doubter? Here's proof. If you've never studied color field painting, then you would look at Ellsworth Kelly's work and think it was ridiculous. You'd be missing out.
I loved teaching art history to my students. My methodology was not "memorize these slides," as is so often the case in higher level education. I taught art history as the result of what was happening in the world at that moment in time. Because these students were simultaneously learning about world history in social studies, the projects students created were sourced from deeper understanding, not simply following a set of instructions. They created timelines aligning major world events with major art movements. They researched and taught one another. It was magical for me as a teacher, especially when a student who later chose art therapy as her profession told me she learned more about art history from me than she did in multiple college courses. Having that positive impact on students is why I remain a teacher, despite how difficult the job has become.
Every school has its issues. Rather than complain, rage against the machine, I chose to move positions. I didn't foresee that I would be giving up my artistry by moving to a new classroom. But I did. I stopped calling myself an artist, yet I clung to my email address that includes the word artist. That, in and of itself is a statement. I continue to infuse the instruction with creative methodologies and opportunities for students to express themselves visually, but I'm no longer "the art teacher." I've come to terms with what I sacrificed when I accepted my current role. However, I haven't found the balance between the innate need to create and the time it takes to meet my own high standards as a teacher. It is an ongoing struggle. Most teachers struggle with work-life balance, and my situation leans more towards figuring out how to be an artist yet still make a living wage that supports my family. It will surprise no one to know that the challenges are extreme. More about this in the next post.