Hello Everyone,
Wow! You have probably noticed that I have taken a long (and unannounced) hiatus from these letters. My apologies! As usual, I have had a lot going on, but the last two months or so have involved a lot of writing, so I have needed to turn from writing, rather than to it, for a break. Just to catch you up, here are some of the things that I’ve been working on since Christmas or so: I am taking another online class at Hollins, this one on Tomboys in children’s literature. For a while, I was also working on revising a paper I began last summer so I could submit it for a conference this summer. I have started teaching art classes at my house twice a week, which has been great fun, and I’m really excited to work with the dozen or so kids who attend. I have also been substitute teaching at Saint George’s, my K-12 school, and through that, have been connected with some tutoring opportunities. In addition to helping some folks with writing, I am meeting with Austrian triplets twice a week to help them with their math. They are fantastic, bright girls who have a great sense of humor and have a curious obsession with drawing “wonderful wampires,” as they pronounce it. Then, when I have a bit of time, I’m also applying for more long-term teaching jobs for after my summer term at Hollins. So I’ve certainly been keeping busy, but I’m grateful to have settled into something of a routine in the last few weeks. And that more or less catches us up to speed. Now on to other matters:
If you’ve been reading these letters for a while now, you’ll know that I’ve written about Advent several times over the last few years. Advent is the four weeks in the church calendar leading up to Christmas, when Christians celebrate the coming of Jesus. This is my favorite time of the year because it’s all about waiting, and I love waiting. I’m sure at this point, many of you are saying, “Sarah Jackson, this proves you are certifiable.” But it’s true. I love how when I’m waiting for something, it forces me to slow down and concentrate on whatever it is I’m waiting for, which helps me appreciate it all the more. I doubt the bread sticks at Bennidito’s would taste as good if we didn’t have to wait for them to be made. I imagine the Harry Potter series would not have been as successful if the seven books and eight movies had come out all at once. I don’t think mailing a package would be as exciting if I didn’t have to stand in line at the post office. Okay, bad example. Going to the post office is ALWAYS exciting.
But the point is that Advent is a time of anticipation. It means “arrival,” and a quick perusal of a thesaurus (because perhaps the only thing as thrilling as standing in line at the post office is perusing a thesaurus) reveals words colored by excitement and expectancy: appearance, emergence, materialization, occurrence, dawn, birth, rise, development, approach, coming. This is not a dull time of the year. This is the seasonal equivalent of the drive to the airport to welcome a dear friend who you haven’t seen in years. This is a big deal. To some folks, this is the Big Deal.
So why on earth am I bringing up Advent now, almost two months after it finished, and as we are about to enter into Lent, an equally significant time of the year for Christians? Well, to be honest, mostly because though I started this letter before Christmas, I have had time to finish it only now. But in many ways, I feel like I am still in an Advent mindset. Like many recent graduates, I am in a limbo stage of life, in a constant state of waiting and preparation. Much of what I do on a daily basis is to get ready in some way for the future. (“This would be a good opportunity to put on my resumé,” “Perhaps one of these applications will pan out and I might have a -- gasp! -- ‘real’ job!” etc.) And yet, in Advent, we know what we’re waiting for, while now I feel clueless most of the time. For the first time, I’m beginning to understand what it felt like to be an Israelite waiting for her Messiah. They didn’t know exactly what he would be like, or exactly what he would do. They didn’t even know when exactly he would come. I feel similarly oblivious. I am confident that something will happen. I am confident that it will be good. But I can’t possibly know what it will look like. Most of the people who have been asking me bigger deal, life-y questions recently have been receiving uncharacteristically short responses: “I’m not sure;” “Maybe;” “I have literally no idea.” My prayers, which normally resemble my voicemails in their rambling nature, have become incredibly concise: “Dear God, I don’t know. Amen.”
So in the middle of this I Don’t Know Time, I am trying to take lessons from Advent. It has been humbling to have to admit that the phrase “be present,” which I find sickeningly cliché, is probably the best advice I’ve been given in this stage of life. It is easy to disregard these kind of in-between times, thinking they are merely preludes to the real show. But to ignore them would be like drawing a map of a river without including any of the bridges that span the banks. During Advent, Christians often light candles on a wreath each week to represent different gifts that Christ brings: hope, peace, joy, and love. However, these are not simply rewards that we get once we have patiently made it through Advent. They are also tools that help with the waiting. So how do I “be present” while still anticipating something greater in the future? Cultivate hope, carve out space in my schedule to let in peace, pursue activities and people that give me joy, and always, always prioritize love. These seem like platitudes, like they could be printed in fancy mauve script on those birthday cards you never manage to read through in their entirety, or etched into smooth river stones tastefully scattered next to outdoor fountains in suburban gardens. But my trusty OED reminds me that “platitude” comes from the French word for “flat.” And hope, peace, joy, and love are anything but flat -- on the contrary, they give life dimension.
Of course, all of that is much easier said than done. And so now that I’ve said it, I’m trying to figure out how to do it. Suggestions, as always, are welcome!
Have a great week!
Sarah/Mouse
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Saturday, December 10, 2011
"Goodbye Y'all" -- A Visual Farewell Ode to Savannah
Hi everyone,
On Monday, I left Savannah and flew back to WA. In honor of the city where I’ve spent the last two and a half years, and to demonstrate that at least part of me has been influenced by living in the South, I wrote the following poem (loosely in the style of Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown). The pictures are ones I took around Savannah unless I note otherwise.
Have a great week,
Sarah/Mouse
(courtesy of www2.wsav.com)
(courtesy of www.atlanticfeet.com)
On Monday, I left Savannah and flew back to WA. In honor of the city where I’ve spent the last two and a half years, and to demonstrate that at least part of me has been influenced by living in the South, I wrote the following poem (loosely in the style of Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown). The pictures are ones I took around Savannah unless I note otherwise.
Have a great week,
Sarah/Mouse
(courtesy of www.robotnine.com)
(courtesy of http://www.dylanscandybar.com)
(courtesy of http://www.nypost.com)
(courtesy of scad-illu-sav.blogspot.com)
(courtesy of http://www.gadling.com)
(courtesy of www. savannahfilm.org)
(courtesy of www.metal-engravings.com)
(courtesy of http://www.coloring-pages-kids.com)
(courtesy of www2.wsav.com)
(courtesy of www.vineyardsavannah.org)
(courtesy of http://www.grubgrade.com)
(courtesy of www.gettyimages.com)
(courtesy of http://www.allmoviephoto.com)
(courtesy of www.atlanticfeet.com)
(courtesy of http://josephinejohnson.wordpress.com)
(courtesy of freeimagefinder.com)
(courtesy of http://www.tasteontour.com)
(courtesy of http://northamericadredge.com)
(courtesy of http://smartcollegeplanning.org)
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Teachy Keen
Hi Everyone,
One of the more challenging tasks I’ve ever had was to teach my roommate to drive in South Africa. Part of the issue was that she needed to become accustomed to driving on the left side of the road. But far more difficult was that the car we had access to had a manual transmission, and Claire had driven only automatic cars. I tried to remember what my parents had told me when I was learning to drive Sybil, our manual car, but it was much more difficult than I’d expected. I’d been driving a stick shift for so long that I had stopped paying attention to how to do so. When Claire would ask me questions like, “How do I release the clutch without stalling the car?” I would find myself saying extremely useful things like, “Well, you just kind of do it.”
When students in the drawing class I was assisting this quarter asked questions like, “How do I get the bike tire to look more accurate?” my first instinct was often to respond the same way: “You just kind of do it.” I’ve been drawing for so long that, at this point, many of the techniques I use are subconscious. This, of course, is fabulously unhelpful to the students who cannot tap into my subconscious. So this quarter, as I learned about teaching through my internship in the drawing class (and in my other assistantship in a materials and techniques class), my task was to figure out how to communicate the methods, skills and knowledge I use to create art. The classes were designed to provide students with enough of their own artistic experience that eventually, drawing would become second nature to them.
The more I think about teaching, the more I’m realizing that my discipline has been an ideal preparation. Illustrator Steve Brodner (who came to SCAD my first year here), gives this definition of his occupation: “Illustration, or narrative art, is about using visual language to tell a story in the most beautiful, compelling way possible. . . in under a second. It does not exist to merely fill a hole in a page of type. Rather, its purpose is to communicate clearly while engaging the eye, the mind and heart of the viewer. If successful, it has the potential for rewarding the viewer with a fresh, illuminating, even transcendent experience.”
Conveniently, this also sums up much of what I believe about teaching. Like illustration, teaching is successful only when you communicate clearly -- that’s part of the very definition of education. Teaching is most memorable and most effective when students are encouraged to engage not just their mind, but their senses and their hearts as well. While good instruction takes much longer than just a second, I believe that ideal learning is marked by moments that are “fresh, illuminating, even transcendent.”
To extend the comparison between teaching and illustration even further, if a viewer of an illustration doesn’t engage with the piece, either visually or mentally, the message is ineffectual. The same is true in education: good teachers can take you only so far -- good students are necessary to complete the equation. As a teacher, the question then becomes, how do you create an environment that fosters good studentship? With art, at least, I think it comes down to providing as many opportunities as possible for students to produce work. The more often we engage with the creative process -- regardless of the immediate results -- the more likely we are to grow.
Now that I am officially done with SCAD, it is a good time to look back at the last two and a half years and reflect on how my work has grown since I began. The development I’ve seen has come about partly through specific instruction and feedback from my professors and peers. But part of my artistic growth has occurred simply because I’ve been doing art for two and a half years straight. Like all skills, art takes not just knowledge, but also time and practice. I might know the mechanics of how to do a pirouette or a trombone solo, but until I spend time and effort actually doing these skills, I cannot claim them as my own. Teaching is the same. A professor might have an impressive teaching philosophy and a stunning publication record, but until she actually spends time in the classroom with students, she cannot claim to be a teacher.
I’m a bit embarrassed to say that when I first arrived at SCAD, I couldn’t actually define the discipline in which I was about to get a terminal degree. Now I not only know what illustration is, it has become almost second nature. My final SCAD class was called “Professional Practices.” One of my assignments was to create two images I could send out as post cards to art directors, publishers, or editors to represent my style and to sell myself as an artist. That was it. When I started at SCAD two years ago, I wouldn’t have known how to begin such a simultaneously vague and individualized assignment. Now, however, I just sort of did them:
"Under the Sea," gouache resist
"Connecting," pencil and digital
I did a few other independent projects recently as well. Qian is in Graphic Design, and for one of her classes this quarter, she was designing a magazine for Chinese twenty-somethings. She asked me to illustrate one of the articles, which was about how rumors spread on the internet. She played the part of the art director very well, and it was good to go through the process of conceiving and creating the art with someone who wasn’t my professor.
"Rumors," gouache resist and digital
Qian made a few adjustments for the final
I finished another project just this week. Michele, one of my Hollins friends, commissioned me to re-illustrate one of the images from a Christmas video my brother and I made for our church two years ago. I was grateful for the opportunity to revisit it with more time than I’d had originally, and with a bit more confidence in my compositional and mud-painting abilities. Though this commission was for a friend, it was good to be able to practice going through the business side of things.
The 2009 version. Black paper, mud from Roanoke, VA.
The new version. Blue watercolor paper, mud from South Africa.
I may be done with SCAD, but there is obviously still a lot I need and want to learn. Most immediately, I need to figure out how to get two years’ worth of art materials and projects home. While I am confident that I have the ability and resources to do this (fortunately, Becky, Qian and I have been saving boxes for a while now), I think that mostly, I’m going to have to just kind of do it.
Have a good week,
Sarah/Mouse
ps: If you’re interested in seeing the Christmas video, it’s at http://www.vimeo.com/8521253. (Huge apologies to those who care about typography for the use of -- gulp! -- Papyrus. Please let this be a reflection of how far I’ve come in two years!)
One of the more challenging tasks I’ve ever had was to teach my roommate to drive in South Africa. Part of the issue was that she needed to become accustomed to driving on the left side of the road. But far more difficult was that the car we had access to had a manual transmission, and Claire had driven only automatic cars. I tried to remember what my parents had told me when I was learning to drive Sybil, our manual car, but it was much more difficult than I’d expected. I’d been driving a stick shift for so long that I had stopped paying attention to how to do so. When Claire would ask me questions like, “How do I release the clutch without stalling the car?” I would find myself saying extremely useful things like, “Well, you just kind of do it.”
When students in the drawing class I was assisting this quarter asked questions like, “How do I get the bike tire to look more accurate?” my first instinct was often to respond the same way: “You just kind of do it.” I’ve been drawing for so long that, at this point, many of the techniques I use are subconscious. This, of course, is fabulously unhelpful to the students who cannot tap into my subconscious. So this quarter, as I learned about teaching through my internship in the drawing class (and in my other assistantship in a materials and techniques class), my task was to figure out how to communicate the methods, skills and knowledge I use to create art. The classes were designed to provide students with enough of their own artistic experience that eventually, drawing would become second nature to them.
The more I think about teaching, the more I’m realizing that my discipline has been an ideal preparation. Illustrator Steve Brodner (who came to SCAD my first year here), gives this definition of his occupation: “Illustration, or narrative art, is about using visual language to tell a story in the most beautiful, compelling way possible. . . in under a second. It does not exist to merely fill a hole in a page of type. Rather, its purpose is to communicate clearly while engaging the eye, the mind and heart of the viewer. If successful, it has the potential for rewarding the viewer with a fresh, illuminating, even transcendent experience.”
Conveniently, this also sums up much of what I believe about teaching. Like illustration, teaching is successful only when you communicate clearly -- that’s part of the very definition of education. Teaching is most memorable and most effective when students are encouraged to engage not just their mind, but their senses and their hearts as well. While good instruction takes much longer than just a second, I believe that ideal learning is marked by moments that are “fresh, illuminating, even transcendent.”
To extend the comparison between teaching and illustration even further, if a viewer of an illustration doesn’t engage with the piece, either visually or mentally, the message is ineffectual. The same is true in education: good teachers can take you only so far -- good students are necessary to complete the equation. As a teacher, the question then becomes, how do you create an environment that fosters good studentship? With art, at least, I think it comes down to providing as many opportunities as possible for students to produce work. The more often we engage with the creative process -- regardless of the immediate results -- the more likely we are to grow.
Now that I am officially done with SCAD, it is a good time to look back at the last two and a half years and reflect on how my work has grown since I began. The development I’ve seen has come about partly through specific instruction and feedback from my professors and peers. But part of my artistic growth has occurred simply because I’ve been doing art for two and a half years straight. Like all skills, art takes not just knowledge, but also time and practice. I might know the mechanics of how to do a pirouette or a trombone solo, but until I spend time and effort actually doing these skills, I cannot claim them as my own. Teaching is the same. A professor might have an impressive teaching philosophy and a stunning publication record, but until she actually spends time in the classroom with students, she cannot claim to be a teacher.
I’m a bit embarrassed to say that when I first arrived at SCAD, I couldn’t actually define the discipline in which I was about to get a terminal degree. Now I not only know what illustration is, it has become almost second nature. My final SCAD class was called “Professional Practices.” One of my assignments was to create two images I could send out as post cards to art directors, publishers, or editors to represent my style and to sell myself as an artist. That was it. When I started at SCAD two years ago, I wouldn’t have known how to begin such a simultaneously vague and individualized assignment. Now, however, I just sort of did them:
"Under the Sea," gouache resist
"Connecting," pencil and digitalI did a few other independent projects recently as well. Qian is in Graphic Design, and for one of her classes this quarter, she was designing a magazine for Chinese twenty-somethings. She asked me to illustrate one of the articles, which was about how rumors spread on the internet. She played the part of the art director very well, and it was good to go through the process of conceiving and creating the art with someone who wasn’t my professor.
"Rumors," gouache resist and digital
Qian made a few adjustments for the finalI finished another project just this week. Michele, one of my Hollins friends, commissioned me to re-illustrate one of the images from a Christmas video my brother and I made for our church two years ago. I was grateful for the opportunity to revisit it with more time than I’d had originally, and with a bit more confidence in my compositional and mud-painting abilities. Though this commission was for a friend, it was good to be able to practice going through the business side of things.
The 2009 version. Black paper, mud from Roanoke, VA.
The new version. Blue watercolor paper, mud from South Africa.I may be done with SCAD, but there is obviously still a lot I need and want to learn. Most immediately, I need to figure out how to get two years’ worth of art materials and projects home. While I am confident that I have the ability and resources to do this (fortunately, Becky, Qian and I have been saving boxes for a while now), I think that mostly, I’m going to have to just kind of do it.
Have a good week,
Sarah/Mouse
ps: If you’re interested in seeing the Christmas video, it’s at http://www.vimeo.com/8521253. (Huge apologies to those who care about typography for the use of -- gulp! -- Papyrus. Please let this be a reflection of how far I’ve come in two years!)
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