Category Archives: Reflections

Scrutiny

How does one assess Art in the classroom? How do teachers give marks for visual work?

When I look back to my own high school experience I recall plainly how marks were dolled out in Math class; homework was handed in, quizzes were scored, tests were taken, and numbers were tallied up.

In Science, much the same story, as well as Social Studies, and English. Well actually, in both English and French classes I recall doing a lot of reading, and writing. Did I do the reading? Yes, good, I got my marks. Did I write without making tons of grammatical/vocabulary errors? Yes, good, I got my marks.

But what about Art? It was a large component of my workload in high school, and yet I remember nothing of the marking scheme. Perhaps that is because the scheme was not clear, or maybe I’ve tried to bury the bad memories. Either way, it’s generally an unclear concept.

People often think, you make a boring, ugly painting, you get a bad mark, right? One thing that has become certain in my mind is that Bad Art does not, should not equate to Bad Marks. By ‘Bad Art’ I simply mean not pretty, or not attractive. So far, some of the best work I’ve seen students make was spontaneous, abstract, dicey, obscure. I love the meticulously detailed stuff too, but in the end, what inspires most is the application of energy. That application is experimental — art is experimental in most cases — you never know what the exact outcome will be. In Math class, the teacher knows what the outcome will be. It is understood by both the students and teacher that there are right answers and wrong answers. There are simply no wrong answers in Art. There are safe ways to use materials and techniques, there are successful implementations of tools and methods. However, there is no such thing as a wrong art piece.

Assessment in Art should therefore not emphasize the marking of products, but rather the process. It’s easy to envisage a marking scheme that considers the conduct of students in class — whether or not they are attending, listening, working, contributing. It’s easy to assess whether or not they are applying techniques that are demonstrated, using the time they have to create, or just fooling around instead. I do not believe that the final thing, the art can be assessed officially, but it can indeed be critiqued by themselves and their peers. And the students can learn to critique constructively. Their participation can then in turn be marked.

Detail of a piece that I eventually threw into a construction waste bin in our neighbourhood. What does it mean to take emphasis away from the final, physical product? What does it mean to assess only process?

Detail of a piece that I eventually threw into a construction waste bin in our neighbourhood. What does it mean to take emphasis away from the final, physical product? What does it mean to assess only process?

Film Fest

Today consisted mostly of watching movies. Movies in the morning, and in the afternoon…movies in the evening, and underneath the moon. Really though, I enjoyed seeing the student works interspersed with big production work. It made me realize just how simple filmmaking is, and simultaneously, just how hard it is.

One grade eight group learning the basics of camera shots had a series of outtakes, just a closeup, just trying to capture an angry face. The two girls in the group tried and tried again, struggling to portray anger through an assault of giggles. In the end, the straightforward task of filming someone’s angry face on camera failed. I pondered this deeply later on while watching some Quentin Tarantino scenes — now those are some angry characters!

All in all, the success of the day can be summed up by this meme.

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This Body is a Vessel

There’s never been a time when I’ve felt completely at home in my body. There have always been times where I’ve felt too big or too small, too pimply or too hairy or too smooth, too dark or too light, my hair’s been too curly, my hair’s been too straight.

The performers in high school drama always seemed to know their bodies best – they knew that we’re always shape shifting. They seemed to be most aware of the fact that we are always changing – they just put their minds two steps ahead of their bodies and acted the part. “I’m no octopus, but I might be later on, so here’s how it feels to be an octopus. It’s not so bad – I can maybe get used to this!”

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I was working on a series of lesson plans lately that would have the theme of the body. I realized that if there was anything that could get any young person to feel at home in who they live, that’d be a great lesson. How do you get someone to be aware of their body without feeling self-conscious of it? How do you get someone to be conscious of their body if they’re generally unaware?

In the end, I resorted to having the students interact with each others’ bodies. Paint a peer’s legs or arms, or paint their back or face. Is interacting with a friend’s body work out the same issues as working with your own? Now your just comparing bodies. “So and so has blonde hair while mine is just a boring brown.”

The only thing you can do is act like the drama kids and try it on.

The Super Suburbs and Cities

All constructed places and spaces exist for the use, pleasure, convenience and support of human activities,” or so says Associate Professor in the Art Education Department, Paul Langdon, at Concordia University in his essay Sensing the City. However, look left, look right, and all I see are dingy, dicey architectural decisions, risky roadways, and uninhabitable suits. I wonder sometimes if the planners of these living spaces were/are even vaguely aware of the purposes of their designs — to encourage human endeavours in the environments that they’ve made, to promote well-being and to contribute to the factors of safety, security and prosperity. I’ve lived in so many apartments in this city below ground, wondering, why even build a human home below street level when it has the potential to cause so much emotional misery or c02 poisoning?  And what’s the point of these miniature abodes without the decency of balconies? And we as citizens have responsibilities to make the most of our spaces too — who are all these people driving large SUVs through the tiny urban streets of Vancouver?

It’s not all doom and gloom — there are some pretty excellent constructed locations around town, like the beach — which is man-made.

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An ever-changing, unresolved space, open to so many potentials, used by many, public property, and home port of my sailboat.

As for suburban spaces, that’s a whole other story. James Howard Kunstler, author, blogger, speaker extraordinaire sums it up nicely, and it’s worth the watch. One of my favourite TED Talks that describes perfectly the state of most localities in North America:

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My favourite, less mentioned form of constructed spaces are those of the transient realm. What of the short-term properties, the nomadic recreational vehicles, the portable camps and the wandering water-craft? There’s nothing like the sound of rain on your tent’s canvas, knowing that when you stuff those temporary walls away into the stuff bag, you’ll leave nothing behind but maybe the imprint of the spot where you slept, and the holes in the dirt where you drove in the pegs. The makeshift, non-permanent places are my favourite.

 

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Sochat

When I was in high school, I used to AIM and MSN Messenger with my friends all the time. I used to write a lot. Man oh man, I’d come home in the evening, after a whole day of learning, reading, processing, and just chat chat chat on the keyboard about silly nothingness until late late late.

I used to message good friends, acquaintances, and people I’d never met in real life. With my good friends, folks like Juli(a), we’d just go on and on about music, Barenaked Ladies, concerts and songwriting. We used to write songs. We used to write in complete sentences. I had a dictionary on the desk next to my computer. I used to write a lot.

I’d hit up any leisurely contact on my list and have a debate. We’d discuss Toronto, we’d discuss the Leafs and the Senators. I would tell them all about how the drummer Tyler Stewart threw a couple of Typhoon drumsticks into the crowd at a show and I caught one. We’d argue song meanings, song titles and chords.

I don’t think I’m nearly as articulate I was then. I don’t have those kinds of written debates anymore. I’ve given up on conversation out on Reddit — that gigantic forum is notorious for having harsh response. Sometimes I’ll have a good conversation about veganism or two.

People like to fuss about egomania in social media. I like attention just as much as the next person — in order to converse. I like to deliberate. I’ve been trained to argue my work. I put up a picture, and I expect critique. Please tell me why my Macbook-selfie sucks.

 

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The Weather

I have been obsessively checking weather forecasts from several different sources — a storms coming into Vancouver tonight, and Gusti’s out there on the water, all alone, at anchor. We’ve checked the lines several times since the weekend started, making sure she’s all set, however, it’s our first storm with our little Tiki 21 out on the beach, and I’m feeling like a mother sending her child off to camp. So many things could go wrong, yet we’ve prepared her as well as we can.

I’ve noticed other boats, unfamiliar to Kits Beach anchoring nearby — could this spot actually be a good one for weathering a storm coming from the South-East? For Gusti, the spot is right, especially in the case of a North-Westerly — worst case scenario, she gets plopped down on the soft sand, or blown a little further off the beach. Actually, the worst case scenario is unknown, something completely overlooked happening.

Venturing into the unknown. Doing things I’ve never done before. Taking calculated risks. Making educated guesses. Accepting challenges. Challenging myself. These are the reasons for this particular situation. I hope Gusti survives the night!

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Extra-Curricular

All at once, the sentence evokes both feelings of utter fear and eagerness, confirming what I’d been hoping to learn – to what extent is an art teacher in control of the subject that they teach? Well, “to hire a teacher is to hire a curriculum,” writes Kit Grauer in her essay Walking the Talk: the Challenge of Pedagogical Content in Art Teacher Education (page 10, ReVisions). So…basically, the most specific thing in terms of guidelines for creating an art class for students will be the naming of lessons and units, or at least, that is according to Grauer.

In any case, there will be some challenge in transforming the studio knowledge that I already have into teachable, or pedagogical knowledge, as it’s called. It’s intimidating having the road ahead so open to possibilities, which makes it equally susceptible to failure. What will students want to learn? I know what some of the important aspects of art education are to me – what I’m thankful to have learned, what I want to know more about, what I wish someone showed me about certain disciplines when I was younger. However, that stuff isn’t necessarily important. What is of value are the broad impressions that art-making can potentially leave on students to help them grow to be better human beings, even if they don’t pursue careers in art.

Furthermore, there’s the likelihood of not even teaching in the field of art. How then will I deal with the open nature, or the lack of openness in creating a comprehensive and cohesive class for other subjects? I ask myself these questions, trying to bring myself back to the time in Nepal where Stephen and I created karate and drawing classes on the go, teaching in debris-filled lots and ruined school yards outside of Kathmandu. In the face of necessity and scarcity, there was an abundance of inspiration and ingenuity. What I fear, perhaps, is the vastness of playing the part of an entire curriculum.

The Chaotic Karate Class -- Photo by Anna Carson.

The Chaotic Karate Class — Photo by Anna Carson.

The ‘Right’ of the Artist in Visual Research

Back in 2007, Huang Yong Ping attempted to make an installation at the Vancouver Art Gallery entitled Theater of the World. His question was, ‘what will happen if I put a variety of insects together in an enclosed area?’. The BC SPCA came and answered that question promptly for him — ‘we’ll take the interest of even these mere insects into consideration and come and shut your piece down.’

Assistant Professor Donal O’Donoghue at UBC writes in his article “Are We Asking the Wrong Questions in Arts-Based Research?” about Clive Maloney’s piece, Rural Monument (2007) as well. He points out that the work helps cultivate curiosity through ambiguity (O’Donoghue p.356), and so brings attention to the forgotten (in this case, the Irish rural way of life). However, in the context of art-based research, Theater of the World interested me more, having a clearer, and more controversial question.

On the subject of art-based research, my own question continually seems to be, “but what is the question?”. Research is usually a task undertaken when there is a problem needing a solution, a riddle, a conundrum. Art being explorative, it’s understandable that it might not always begin with a clear hypothesis as to what might happen, but I’m starting to understand where the tension arises from between visual and linguistic/scientific research. With art’s ‘open’, ‘unfixed’ and ‘fluid’ nature, in many cases the concept isn’t even clear. How can there be widespread discussion if no one knows the premise? “Ambiguity can lose all communicative value,” O’Donoghue, himself, cautions (p.359).

On this particular level, I appreciate what Huang Yong Ping was attempting to do. He wondered what might happen, assembled the ‘materials’ and then proceeded to run the ‘experiment’. I would argue though, that the question was not worth the lives of the insects involved.

“That the animal-rights concerns eventually took precedence over the artistic integrity of the work raises important questions about artistic freedom,” writes O’Donoghue. “Yes,” I pondered also, “since when does anyone, artist or otherwise, have the ‘freedom’ to be cruel?”. We are all technically free to hurt one another, and we are all technically free to kill insects. What seems important to consider, nevertheless, is ethics in research — both in the visual and scientific fields. Some recent personal experiences in life have led me to grapple with the costs of say, animal experimentation versus saving the lives of many individuals with the use of medical treatment derived from those experiments.

I struggle with the issue of animal testing and medical advancement, but I do not grapple with the question in Ping’s piece. Again, I would argue that the question was not worth the lives of the lowly of creepy crawlies involved. Small-scale cruelty for the purpose of entertainment, pseudo-inquiry about insect life and nature should not be a standard of ethical visual research. Although the work was successful in some ways, initiating much public conversation and demonstrating, metaphorically, socially, what happens if you put a variety of insects together in an enclosed space, I would like to remind myself and others that ethics matter, that sometimes as artists/humans we may have the ‘right’ and opportunities to carry out violent acts on animals, but that we are not ‘righteous’ in doing so. What is the purpose, in any case, if the research is not representative of positive human endeavor? What kind of model for art-based education inquiry would we be setting?

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Bug Stuff 2010

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Bug Stuff – 2010

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Bug Stuff – 2010 (Bug’s in Real Life)

Public City

As I read from a course text, ReVIsions, the article about Learning Social Issues through Public Art takes me back to a time when the most stressful part of the day was keeping up with the class at a walk light downtown Ottawa. We took many field trips to the Gallery in grade school, middle school, high school, and then eventually I was the one leading little kids safely through crosswalks when working at the Ottawa School of Art later on. One aspect about those trips that really stands out to me still were the large scale artworks, the public pieces, the statues, the outdoor displays. They seemed mysterious to me – even then I used to wonder, why are they here? Who let the artists put them right in the way of sidewalk traffic? How do those artists make money doing this stuff? How did they manage to transport the work to this spot? Will it stay here forever? What does it mean? Can I climb on it?

Louise Bourgeois’ Maman comes to mind. Never did try climbing on this giant spider. The piece is a personal expression of the artist, yet put in a public space it takes on another meaning. It represents  Boutgeois’ relationship with her mother in theory, and in practice it represents whatever relationship any person coming into contact with Maman chooses to have. Public art brings about personal meaning to individuals.

The Famous Five on Parliament Hill made the women’s suffrage movement and women’s rights issues concrete in my mind. Time after time I had the chance to revisit the statues, and in doing so, revisit the subjects in a tangible way.