All Women's College and Transgender Women

Moore in in the beginning / middle of a discussion about gender identity as it relates to Admissions. I attended a forum last night for Moore alumnae/i and shared this:

I came to Moore as a transfer from a state school. Artists were this small weird group of students who were not very bright (obviously if they chose art!) and easily identifiable by the amount of supplies they were carrying around campus - huge rolls of paper, portfolios, T-squares. The art floor was a 4th floor WALK-UP with no ventilation. I remember feeling under-valued, easily dismissed, and judged by my often charcoal-covered appearance immediately and unfairly.

Fast forward to my first semester at Moore:  I lived at Sartain and the previous year's RA also lived on the floor. As a senior, Shelly had decided to not be an RA to focus on her work. The first time I met her, I was taken aback. Shelly, with her 18" pink and green mohawk was an RA last year?! Turns out she was not only an amazing artist (I still remember the impact of her senior show), but also one of the sweetest and most darling people I met.

Some of you are probably like Shelly: able to break stereotypes with the sweetness of her personality alone. 

But I imagine many of you are also like me: it is good for us to be reminded to be open-minded. It's good to be given the opportunity to actively choose acceptance. When I think back on the things I most regret, they are always the regret that I could have been nicer, that I could have chosen to be kinder and shown more humanity than I did.

For me, the Moore community has always been one of kindness and acceptance. It is my sincere hope that Moore will continue to stand for kindness and acceptance.

The way I see it: Before us lies the opportunity to practice acceptance and kindness and to welcome all who identify as a woman into our community.

I realize this is a tricky conversation for many. I'm interested to see where it goes. I also am aware that this conversation is happening in a number of ways across our culture / country. I am hoping for kindness and acceptance in all of those conversations.

Father's Day, a Reflection on a Small Meaningful Life

What does it mean to live a good life?
Can you live a meaningful and yet small life?

How does the way you choose to live your life affect others?
What is the ripple effect of your actions? What is that effect over the course of your life?

What kind of person are you if you make choices that are so giving and never be recognized for it and continue to do so?

Mother Theresa may have been canonized but what about the others who followed her?  Are they less saintly?  Perhaps they are more saintly as they don't get the same pat on the back and continue to do their work.

Is character developed or innate?  How can one person be so giving and yet no one notices?

I'mma tell you a little about a guy who lives a quiet life on the banks of the Delaware, quietly contributing to the community with a steadfast and subtle hand.

You guessed it, he's my dad - my small town, high school teaching, unassuming dad.

The amazing thing about my dad is just that.  He's one of those people who works really hard but doesn't tout his own hard work or draw attention to what he gives.  He isn't flashy or published or sought after for national committees (although, the latter he would help greatly).  He leads, what in our global times, is a small life.

He's one of those teachers that does hours of work every night after work, who has continued to develop new ways to engage students throughout the years, and who would (of course) prefer if his students liked him, but his main goal is to teach, to be a role model in profession and personal action, and to be fair on top of it, so if they don't like him, well, that's just the way it goes.

How do I know this?  Well, I went to the same high school that papa-bear taught at.  Four years commuting with my dad. Four years of my friends having my dad in class.  Years afterwards of my friends and high school acquaintances telling me about my dad.

But does your profession make your life what it is?
I'd have to ask dad what he thinks, but I think that it is only a small piece.  Outwardly, it is something those who first meet him or those who are acquaintances grasp onto.  The, "Oh, he's a teacher" box that teachers get put into with lots of assumptions and people nod as if they know him now.

Truth is, I think teaching was a means to fulfilling the check boxes on his worthy professions list.  Dad is good at teaching.  Also, he believes in community and selflessness.  If you are a teacher and in for the long haul, those are key.*

*There are many many other professions that also fit these standards, so I'm not dissing them.  Just leaving them out to chat about my pops for now.*

Listen, I know people out there think that teachers are overpaid or that teaching is a lesser profession or that they don't work all summer so it's not a real job or some other BS.

I've got a family of teachers and I never wanted to be a teacher.  It's really F-ing hard.  Man, if you want to be a good teacher, it's a lot of work.  I always want to be good at what I do, and I always knew that teaching would take over my entire life if I went into it.

A small tangent about how teachers get overpaid because they get the summers off...

There are plenty of jobs that get lots of vacation that do not come with this type of fight.  Sure, in the US there are less of these, but they still exist.  My last position was a total of about 8 weeks off per year.  I was not a teacher.

Rather than begrudging what is a highly needed rejuvenation and growth time for those who hold our future in their hands, perhaps we should look at correcting a system that gives one or two weeks vacation a year (or none in some instances).  Stop being snarky and jealous and work toward changing a bad system.

Google it.  The first few articles say enough: Forbes, Huff Post, USA Today, etc.

There is even research to support that productivity increases - and don't we want our teachers to be productive and on the ball and our kids to get the most out of our teachers?
The Atlantic and NY Times and CBS News, etc.

Perhaps, you've had a bad teacher or two, so this had jaded your view of ALL teachers.  Shame on you!  There are bad apples in any bunch from religious leaders to customer service to policeman and so forth.  Do not through papa-baby out with the bath water.

But I digress (as I'm wont to do)...

Let's forgo my teachers-support tirade and circle back to profession making the person.

I believe that my father's life foremost has been about setting a quiet example of what it means to be a good person for his children.  I can say this because it is without a doubt what he has done.

My parents worked really hard at having us form our own opinions which they both supported and encouraged.  There has always been an open discourse in our house from politics to friends to employment to environment.  My dad is famous for playing devil's advocate even if he agrees with you.  It just helps you see the other side of things.

I remember when my sister was little (she's 12 years my junior) and my parents let her pick out her own outfits from when she could point to make her choice known.

Now, when it came to bigger, important decisions, you best believe they were weighing in, but in the end, it was always our choice.

I'm not a parent, so I can't know how hard it must be to let your kid make choices that are good choices, but you feel there might be a better one or to let them pursue areas of study / interest that are strange and new to you.  I imagine it's pretty hard and scary.

My parents always worked really hard to give us as many opportunities as they were able.  We went on vacations with friends, were in a million activities, had lessons, did exciting things. I know they gave up things for themselves in order for us to have these opportunities.

My dad is the least materialistic person I have ever run across (and that's saying something).  Anyone who has driven by our house in the summer and seen the scarecrow at work in the garden or around the house knows what I'm talking about.  He has always foregone his own for the good of his kids and family.

And through all of this, they were present.  They were there.  We spent entire summers running around the house and yard with my dad always home.  My parents did homework with us every night.  We ate as a family every night.  There were tons of friends in and out of our house all the time.  It was a rare summer night that there wasn't another friend at the table with us.  My friends know the drill - before you eat, we all go around and say what we're thankful for.

And as my friends know, my parents are not quite what you'd call main stream.  They are brilliant and kind and generous, but def not main stream.  I'd say that my complete lack of pop culture growing up - from fashion to music to movies - was...challenging at times.  While other families and friends were discussing movies, we were discussing homework topics.  Thank god for my off-beat friends.

I'll never forget going home with my then boyfriend an sitting around the living room discussing art history for hours while pulling books off of shelves to back up our statements or referencing some connection.

I am thankful for all of this.  We didn't have fancy clothing or fancy cars or a fancy house, but we had a hellava family.  I am thankful to be from oddity.  I am thankful for my parents teaching us to be thankful, teaching us the importance of family, and setting the highest bar for personal integrity.

I guess in the end, I think a small life can be a good life.  A small life can have a wider reaching ripples.  I hope my own small life is half as worthy as the life my parents have lead.

Inner Policeman + Kids' Making Art

David Byrne (Author / of Talking Heads) reads his own audio book Bicycle Diaries (recommended) which reflects on his travels throughout the world and riding his bike in different cities / countries.  But the book is more about social and city structure than it is about scenery.

In one chapter (London?) he is surprised when the topic of conversation turns openly to a topic that would be taboo in the US (race?) and he notes that his "inner-policeman" would not have allowed him to bring this topic up in polite society.

Burroughs talks about the inner-policeman (did he coin this phrase?) in his writings as well.  I had been reading some beat poetry / novels a few months back and I started thinking about Burroughs and the inner-policeman, Byrne and his cultural observations.

I have an inner-policeman.  Oh yes, I certainly do.  Some would say, he could be stronger, but I think he's pretty strong now.  There's a quip in here about the man keeping me down, but I'm too lazy to make it.

There are times when I am suddenly aware of my inner-policeman and it is like getting slapped in the face.  I am always taken aback, surprised to remember he is there, pulling back on ideas, blocking pathways.

Recently, I have been working on digitizing and cleaning artwork created by small children.  This involves a scanner and Photoshop.  It's a fun project (not sarcasm, I love Photoshop).

I'm not changing any of the art, just taking out some glue smudges and digitally putting some pieces back on that did not stick completely.

The project is based on Islamic tiles.  The students have seen examples and are to use these as inspiration to create 8.5 x 11" frames for poems to be created later and by a different class.

As I scanned these unbalanced, off-center, mis-matched frames, I was a little disappointed - none of these were clean or pretty.  They all looked strange and weird and like mistakes to me.

These kids had no sense of the principles of design, no aesthetic understanding.

And then...
and then.
Something magical happened.  

These lop-sided, odd frames became so beautiful and interesting to me.  As I worked on them, I felt they were less sterile than much more refined art.  They were raw and hungry.  The frames were honest and fun.  They were magnificent.

These students had not yet developed an inner-aesthetic-policeman!  But that we all could go back to that time.

One piece was created from all brilliant red & green "tiles" (construction paper squares / diamonds).  Red and green always just reads Christmas to me.  I never choose any design that only has red and green. But this kid looked at those colors and thought, "these are great colors together!" and the kid was right, it was indeed beautiful.

One student had created a frame in greens and blues with only one yellow tile in a strange off-centered spot on the right of the frame.

Some students would cut their own shapes that were twice the size as the pre-cut square / diamond pieces provided to them.  They jut into the center free-space irregularly, they are haphazard and strange.  They tell a different story from the other pieces.  They are rocking out to metal, the rest of the frame is pop.

Sometimes, one side would be drastically different from the other three in color and pattern.  Often this was a side piece, not the top or bottom of the frame.  

One frame had a double row just one one side.  Another built up two or three rows in one of the corners.

One ingenious student cut a long strip of construction paper and twisted it as they glued it down creating undulating dimension (only on one side).  Now there's a student who is thinking outside the box.  I only hope that the school system does not squash this before the kid realizes it's a good thing.

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed how one student took a larger square / diamond in navy and cut smaller diamonds in navy and glued them on top.  You could barely see the difference.  It was a little gift to those who took a moment to look closely.

Still other students would ignore the shape of the paper and create a frame that was not 8.5 x 11".

These were some of my favorite pieces.

They bothered me most when I first saw the pieces, but they were fierce and straightforward, unapologetic and bold.

One student had created a giant X across her page with her tiles!

Another, the tiles only grew into the center from one side.  The pile starting on an 8.5" edge and working their way into the center of the piece, filling the majority of that half of the page.

And then one student - one brilliant student had taken all of their pieces and in what felt like a random assortment, filled the center of the page!  There was a small area surrounding the tiles, but he had created a center of haphazard colors and shapes.  The frame becoming the framed.

Working on this project was a beautiful reminder to take stock of my views on beauty and art and how much of that comes from societal ideas that were drilled into me.  What an amazing reminder to take stock of my politics, judgments, and beliefs and to critically look at how much of those standards come from societal pressure.

What in my core fiberous center do I believe?  What is beautiful to me?  When my inner-policeman dismisses an idea or an artwork, look again.  It may yet become the MOST enchanting.

Employment & Creativity

It must be amazing if you don't have to work ever.  Imagine having money to do your everyday things (rent, food, clothes) plus art supplies/house stuff with a little left over for a vacation each year and donating.

I recently read Junky (or Junkie depending on the edition) by Burroughs (excellent, I thought). Here was a guy who had an allowance which allowed him to either not work, work occasionally, or work to support his habit.  Even so, it was years before he got it together to publish Junky, sending installations to friends who helped him get it all together for publication.  Granted, he was not as...focused as he could have been, but it just goes to show how distracting life can be (and makes me feel slightly better about not having something 100% finished from my time off).

Now that I'm working again (more on that later), I see how life truly gets in the way.  I'm not sure if this is how it is for everyone (I expect so).  It's bloody hard to minimize distractions. 

Now that I'm working again, I also get mentally tired from learning, thinking, problem-solving all day (hopefully, work affords the opportunity to learn, think, and problem-solve too).  AND between getting ready, the commute, and my work day, there isn't much left time over (leaving all health issues aside for now...).  Dinner and a minute to chat with S and that's about it.  I'm trying to train myself to get up early to write, but it's only been one week and I'm still adjusting.

I did get up at 5 am today though on my own (yes!) and then I had a work from home day (yes!) so I also saved the getting ready and commuting times.  It was a good morning for writing.

BUT, I'm hopeful that once I adjust, I'll be more productive.  There were also 3 evening work events last week, so that was a factor too.

I've set myself some general goals and I'm hoping I can stay on track.  They are attainable, so I'm hopeful!

.................................

And now about going back to work...

All that time off...

(Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme...)

All my persnicketiness about which jobs I'd even apply to...

All the countless hours applying to those could-be-perfect openings...

All those terrrrrrrible interviews...

And now...

And now.

What do I think?

I think it's only the first week.

(too early to tell)

BUT

I'm pretty confident I'm gonna love working here.

The mission of ARTWELL is so closely aligned with my own personal goals and mission that I find just being there exciting.  The staff is amazing (I know it's only a week in, but seriously).  I hope I am there a long time and make a meaningful contribution to the organization and through ArtWell, my community.

And if you have to give up making art & writing all day, the best way to do it is to support the arts and better my community while working with great folks.  So, I'm alright with working for now. I've had my [f]unemployment time to be off and find something (else) I love (writing!), but now it's time to return to reality.  Alas!  I was not born a countess.