How I Spent Mother's Day

Here's how I spent my Mother's Day . . .
. . . drawing tiny fruit. Each piece of fruit is 1-1/2 inches square. The entire sheet is just under 8-1/2" x 11".  Later I will cut, heat, and shrink them down to about 5/8" each.

Believe it or not, spending hours drawing tiny fruit makes me pretty happy.

The only thing that made it even better . . .
. . . taking a long break to lay in the hammock in the back yard while my guys bar-b-cued ribs and bacon-wrapped corn on the cob.

As I lay in the hammock, listening to the birds and the conversation, I noticed how unusually quiet it was in our little section of northeast L.A. - no baseball games at the park, no cars racing down Eastern Ave., not even a police helicopter circling overhead. Everyone, it seems, was at home quietly celebrating their mom.

Too Focused on Results

When we are tense, nothing much good happens. When we are too focused on the result, the result actually suffers. When our expectations of ourselves are too close to the surface, they get in the way of fulfilling the very expectations that we know we are capable of and most need to meet.

Last week in life drawing class, we did quick ink wash drawings. Poses were three minutes only. In that short amount of time, we tried to get to the essence of the pose, with as few lines as possible getting movement, mass, and elegance. There wasn't enough time to worry about whether that swipe of ink was the perfect outline.

In this exercise, if you're tense, nothing much good happens. If you're too focused on the result, you'll never have the faith to leap ahead, jump right in, before time is up.

And to make things even better, we worked on scraps of paper, envelopes, pages torn from discarded books. This artwork was starting out as trash, so what worries could we possibly have?

After an hour or so of those ink wash drawings, we settled into a longer pose. I had dropped my expectations and no longer seemed to care about the perfect figure drawing.

And now, finally, I'm starting to get some results.

Process vs. Mistakes

"Learn from your Mistakes." We've been told this over and over throughout our lives. I've probably said it myself, thinking it good advice.

And while it is true, it doesn't really help.

When I think about the mistakes that I've made in my life, my face starts to burn, my breath comes shallow, and I push those thoughts aside. Mistakes are for moving on from, forgetting, leaving them behind. 

Mistakes are for erasing.

In the continuing saga of my life drawing class, I have been horrified by my mistakes. I've wanted to hide them, they make me nervous, my face starts to burn . . . . And that of course makes it impossible for me to learn from them.

But a couple weeks ago I remembered - I love process. I seem to love the doing more than the final product. So why haven't I been able to enjoy the process of learning to draw the figure?

I love being in the classroom; I love the luxury of three uninterrupted hours of drawing; I love sitting on those uncomfortable drawing horses; I love moving my hand and arm around in front of a big piece of paper; I love glancing back and forth between model and drawing, model and drawing. So why was I feeling so frustrated and defeated?

And then I had it: Substitute the word process for the word mistakes.

"Learn from your Mistakes the Process!" 

And you know what? Last week, finally, after 6 weeks of classes, I started getting it. I started relaxing, and making steps towards some work I could be proud of.

I no longer feel like I'm making horrible mistakes. Instead, I can look at what I've done, even my most alarmingly awkward figure drawings, and be happy because I am learning from the process.

A Pocket Full of Snails

Today Donkey and I went for a walk in the amazing Debs Park. It is one of our best kept secrets here in northeast Los Angeles.  I've been there many times, even had a family birthday party there last year, but each time I go, I wander a little farther and am always thrilled by what I find. It's my new favorite place.

At the park, walk up the road to the pond (or follow one of the many paths through the trees). Stand in the shade and check out the view. This is as far as most venture. But keep on going. The paved road is mostly shaded and follows the crest of the hills northward soon leaving the graffiti behind while many small hiking trails wind their way among the hills giving spectacular views of the San Gabriel Mountains, the Arroyo Seco, and downtown Los Angeles.

Benches are found in unexpected and strategic places and there is even a well maintained picnic area far back in the park.

After another fabulous walk today, we left the park and I desperately needed something cold to drink. I found a little burger joint and went in to get a soda. Donkey waited outside. I hurriedly reached into my pocket for some crumpled dollar bills. And I laughed at myself, feeling like a little kid just coming in from playing all day on the hillside.

You can see a finished snail in my shop

How to Stop the Circle of Doubt

I came home from my life drawing class last night frustrated and defeated. So defeated that I wanted to throw up my hands and give up on all my current creative pursuits. Felt like such a poser. "Whoever said I was good at this? Not me!"

Pulling myself together enough this morning to sit at my work table and make something, I sorted through the bits and pieces and came across this:

Donkey is the name of my Golden Retriever

I don't know how much it really helped, but it certainly gave me a moment to get out of my head and stop the endless circle of doubt. (Donkey is the name of my Golden Retriever, I talk about him here.)

And then in floated my teacher's words from the first day of class: "Most of you will want to quit around the middle of the semester, some of you will disappear." Guess what? Next week is the middle of the semester. Maybe I'm not so terrible. Maybe, in fact, I'm right on track.

I think I might make myself a name tag with this "My Donkey is _____" scrap of paper. Then, next week when I'm frustrated again (and I know I will be), I'm going to pause, read my name tag, stop the circle of doubt, and get on with it!

Becoming a Student Again

I tell my students that drawing is scary.

But on Tuesday nights, I remove my teacher's persona, and I become the student. It's hard.

I'm taking a life drawing class at Otis. My teacher is my colleague. And I'm exposing to him (and all the world) a huge gap in my knowledge.











In a life drawing class we draw from a live nude model. Everything in a life drawing class feels vulnerable, including me.








When I walk into his class I need to be willing to be terrible. I can't be there with anything to prove.


Drawing is scary, I tell myself.
But in the end, it's just charcoal on a piece of paper.
And I'm better for it.


(These drawings are 3 to 5 minute poses from our second class meeting.)

A Family of Charcoal Drawings

Most of my classes are for older students (high school and above) who are working on portfolios for art college admissions. But sometimes I also teach younger people.

I don't know about you, but when I was 9 years old, I was still drawing goofy hearts and rainbows. Look what 9-year-olds are up to these days . . .

In this class for homeschoolers at Excellence in Education, I have a whole family - including Dad! They are a talented group.

We meet for only one hour, once a week. And again, my students amaze me.

Note: I apologize - when photographing the work, I did not have the youngest son's drawing with me, or I surely would have included it!

The Thrills of the Public Library

I love my library. I can get almost any book and keep it for weeks on end, free of charge. It's rather amazing. 

I also love the little unexpected pleasures that come from sharing books with thousands of people all across the huge city of Los Angeles.

A while back, I read The Education of H*Y*M*A*N K*A*P*L*A*N by Leo Rosten. As I finished the last page, I felt pleased and satisfied. Not quite ready for the book to be over, I slowly turned the end page and found one last perfect word:

My reaction, exactly.

More recently I was reading The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. Lots of great insight about art making and the obstacles we encounter. A good portion of the book is about what the author calls "Resistance." It describes the self-sabotage that seems a part of most artists' lives. The reader cannot help but instantly recognize instances in their own life where resistance has played a major role in keeping success at bay. Here is a page that really got me thinking and examining the role of resistance in my life.

Let me zoom in and show you what else I found at the bottom of that page:

Apparently, I wasn't the only one examining their life.

Storytelling at the Long Beach Playhouse

In July and December, I was lucky enough to be included in a story telling contest at the Long Beach Playhouse (in Long Beach, California). The stories had to be true, something that happened to the teller, and told in less than 6 minutes.

July was my round of semi-finals, in which I placed second, allowing me to continue on to the finals.

My qualifying story was about my mother's final days with brain cancer, and her surprising final words. It was wonderful to tell that story in public and huge thanks for my friend Wendy. She was my coach and made all the difference.

So there I was, riding my scooter to the bus stop ...

For the finals on December 29th, I chose a story as different as I possibly could - a funny story of my adventures one day when I found myself in the role of "the crazy lady" on the city bus. (See what I looked like when I returned home that day from my crazy bus trip.)

. . . I fell hard. On my head . . .

Not sure what I'm talking about here.

What a great experience! But, ah well, I placed 2nd again.

Whatever the outcome, I was proud of myself for pushing to do something new, (as my friend Jason says: for showing up and saying Yes!) that I had serious doubts about several times, on the verge of cancelling my participation at one point. My favorite part of the whole thing, which I would not have wanted to miss for the world, was my husband's beaming, smiling face as I returned to my seat after my tellings.

People commented that I looked comfortable up there on stage, acting out my crazy-lady adventures. I admit, I was nervous, but I realized that standing up in front of my students - acting out my excitement and love of drawing, often spontaneously and helplessly breaking out into song - all those years of teaching had prepared me well.

(Thanks to Pam and Sherry for the photos.)

How to Make a Plaster Tape Mask

Here are your tools: a container of water, a pile of newspaper, scissors (that you don't mind ruining), masking tape, plaster tape (I got mine from NASCO), a towel (that you don't mind ruining) for wiping your hands.

Cover your working space! This can get messy!

1.) Mash up the newspaper in the shape and size of your head. Tape the newspaper so it stays in the shape you want. You can measure your head if you want, but we just hold the lump up and ask, "Is this a good size for my head?"

2.) With more newspaper and tape, add the appendages of your choice - a big nose, horns, ears, warts, a beard.

3.) Cut the plaster tape into strips. I like them about 5" long and 3" wide, but it all depends on your mask.

4.) Dip the strips into water. Dip, don't soak. And immediately lay the strip over your newspaper shape. Smooth it a bit with your fingers. The plaster will fill in the gaps in the fabric mesh of the tape.

5.) FACE - Continue dipping, laying, smoothing the strips, criss-crossing them to add strength. Three layers of strips minimum. It dries stronger than you expect. Smooth it as much as you want. Cover the face of the mask, front only.

6.) EARS, HORNS, ETC - If you have small appendages - like the octopus legs, (don't worry, we know it only has 6 legs) - wrap the strips all the way around, front and back of the leg/horn/etc. Add a bit extra at the places where they connect to the face.

7.) Let it dry overnight.
(Don't throw the used water down the sink. Plaster is nasty in the drain. And don't wash the towel you've been wiping your hands on. Again, plaster is nasty in the drain.)

8.) When it's dry, pull out the newspaper. If it doesn't want to come out of the horns, let it stay. If there are any weak spots, you can add a few more strips of plaster tape.

 DON'T FORGET TO COVER YOUR WORKSPACE!

That's better.

9.) Hold it up to your face; mark some eye holes. Take it away from your face; cut the eye holes with an X-acto knife.

10.) Decorate! Paint, markers, collage, feathers, beads, ribbon . . . .  It's lightweight and sturdy and the possibilities for plaster tape go way beyond mask making.

My CoachArt students' finished masks.

Please Note: These masks are primarily for fun and decoration. If you want to wear your mask, I recommend careful brushing and cleaning to remove any bits of plaster dust (especially around eyes) and then lining the inside with felt.

I Can't Wait to Get Back to My Students

After the long holiday break, I can't wait to get back to my students
and see what wonderful things they come up with next! 

Two new classes starting in the new year!
Excellence in Education in Monrovia beginning January 6
and
Urban Homeschoolers in Los Angeles beginning January 18

And of course, my "College Prep" classes at Otis start up again February 4

A Word for the New Year

Today, someone asked me to choose a word for the new year. I think I will choose listen. 

Listen more carefully and fully to those around me. Don't be so quick to add, fix, blame, or judge.
Remember that my students have much to offer. Don't always be too eager to prove, to explain, to be the expert.

But now I find another kind of listening. I am pausing in the silence of my house. Usually, there's noise in my head telling me: "You're not working hard enough, you're not producing. Is this really the best use of your time?"

But with a word like listen, it also means stop listening.  Stop hearing the negative.

So I'm pausing. Waiting.  Listening to the silence and the clock ticking the seconds by. It's ok. The clock continues to tick. The good silence continues. Just listen.

What's your word going to be?

Art Postcard (or is that Art Card Post)

Remember these?
They came in a little gift bag, given to me by a student.

Today I rummaged through the bag to help me make this.

It's a post card for LA-Artist.com.

They send you a post card; you create a little piece of art;

you stick a stamp on it; you mail it back to them.

Open to anyone who calls themself an artist in L.A.

(I know "themself" isn't a word, but I'm still using it.)

Mask Making

My CoachArt students decided they wanted to make masks. Guess we should have done this before Halloween, but - oh well.  (Check out the How-To here.)

Here's what we've got so far . . .

This week, we'll add some plaster tape . . .

And next week, we'll paint them, then add feathers or beads or fabric or gosh, who knows - anything goes.

Can you imagine this as a mask . . . ?

Going to be great!

They even made a tiny Humpty Dumpty one for their little brother . . .

UPDATE:
Here are their finished masks!

Homeschool Drawing Class for Los Angeles/West San Gabriel Valley

New Drawing Class for homeschoolers!

Friday afternoons, starting in January, I'll be teaching at Excellence in Education in Monrovia, CA.

In this class, everyone's ability to make, look at, and talk about art is emphasized. Through explorations in value, line, composition, perspective, color, and content, students will discover the excitement of drawing. Most class work is from observation (interesting still life set-ups). Each class includes at least one group critique when students learn to look at and talk about each other's drawings. They learn to have confidence in their own ability to draw, as well as seeing "what makes a drawing work."

Each month will have a different focus, concentrating on new drawing materials and content. Continuing students will begin to develop and incorporate individual interests and meaning into their work. New students are welcome to join in at the beginning of any monthly session.

We'll explore drawing with charcoal, oil pastel, pencil, collage, and other alternative art materials.

No previous art or drawing experience is required. Projects can be modified for all levels of art and drawing experience.

Foundations of Drawing
Age: 12 and up
Parents welcome to join in - $10 tuition discount for parents
Class Mettings: Fridays, 1:30 - 2:30 pm
Location: Excellence in Education, 2640 S. Myrtle, Monrovia, CA 91016
Length of Session: Monthly
First Session: January 6, 13, 20, 27
Cost: $45 tuition + $10 materials fee (continuing students $5 discount on materials fee)

Contact me for further info: mayknart@yahoo.com

The Accidental Hawaiian Crooner

A few years ago, at a Lynda Barry writing workshop, I met Jason Poole.

I thank Lynda Barry's "Writing the Unthinkable" for many things in my life, including Jason Poole.

He's The Accidental Hawaiian Crooner and the story of how Hawaiian music changed his life is one of my all-time favorite stories. Now he studies Hawaiian culture and music; he sings (oh, how he sings), plays ukulele, and tells stories. He generously shares, never holds back.

Here's a recent blogpost from his site (www.accidentalhawaiiancrooner.com)

Strumming with Kids and Planting Seeds (Part 2)

An afternoon of sharing the ʻukulele and the ipu heke. (NYC 11.17.11)

Last Thursday, I wrote about a new 6-week residency that I have at an elementary school in NYC as part of their after-school program.

I’ve been brought in, one day a week, to share the joys of strumming the ʻukulele. And if you’ve ever met me, you know that I can’t talk about the ʻukulele without sharing stories about Molokai and the other Hawaiian islands–and even a little school-kid-kine keiki hula for fun. In my mind, they’re not exclusive. Each supports the other.

Here’s the funny thing: they bring me to the school to educate as well as to enrich the school experience for these amazing kids.

And I can honestly say that I am being educated–and absolutely enriched–by my time working with them.

No joke.

Today I brought my ipu heke, a double headed gourd that is often used for percussion in hula and Hawaiian music.

We worked out simple traditional paʻi, hula beats and rhythms. A beat such as (U-T-U-T-T) is something they are very familiar with. During the school day, their teachers clap that rhythm as part of a call and response way to get the kids’ attention. I was so excited to say “Hey! You already know this beat!” And they were excited to share some of the other rhythms they know. (They are exposed to world music through workshops like the one I’m sharing, so they’d had some experience with drumming.)

Then we took those very same rhythms we’d been clapping and strummed them on the ʻukuleles.

Um…totally awesome!

Working on chord progressions with them can be - well - a challenge.

I might have up to 18 students at a time, ranging in age from kindergarten to second grade. And I’m getting them after a full day of classes. So attention spans tend to be shorter. And I’m one teacher trying to share hand positions with18 kids all at once. We do a lot of open chord strumming on the ʻukulele!

But I have to tell you…

It’s like magic when they’re all strumming together.

Some of the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard.

And I love watching them dance. And I LOVE hearing them sing. (And it’s so much fun to hear them scream with delight when I sound the pū, my conch shell trumpet! I think they’re hoping I’ll blow out some of the windows–Ha!)

It’s an awesome way to spend an afternoon.

Yes, I’m exhausted afterwards. But it’s a good kind of exhaustion. It comes from doing something fantastic.

Right on

A Gift From a Student

A few Saturdays ago, one of my students gave me a little gift bag. We were soon to be starting a collage project in class, and she said this was for collage. I took the bag and briefly thanked her.

At the point where she gave me this little gift bag, I hadn't yet brought in my own work to share with them, which often includes tiny frames.

Oh, how I hope I thanked her, beacuse I'm only now, nearly a week after the end of the 10-week session, getting a chance to look carefully through the bag. Here's what's inside, to thrill and amaze me. I don't know how they know me so well. I don't know if I ever thank them as I should.

LOOKIT!

I just finished another session of Portfolio Development classes at Otis. You'd think, after all these years, that I'd be tired of it. Nope.

It just keeps getting better. My students continue to delight and surprise me. They laugh at my jokes and occasionally even sing along when I spontaneously and uncontrollably burst into song. Around class #5, we had a lovely rendition of "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head." More about that later.

For 10 weeks they have been listening to me yell, "Draw, I tell you! Draw! Show me something I've never seen before! Draw, draw, draw some more!" Even so, they still had nice things to say to me at the end. More about that later, also.

But for now, what I really want to say is - - -
Look at what one of them did.
Look at This.

The Pet Post

Ok. I know this blog is supposed to be about the teaching/mentoring side of my life. But everyone else seems to have a post or two about their animals - so here goes . . .

This is our "Donkey." If I had made a list of everything I wanted in a dog, I could not have gotten as wonderful a dog as Donkey.

I found him at the Pasadena Humane Society, a pretty nice place as far as the dog shelters go.

Donkey and I go on long walks in our urban neighborhood and into the open hills of Northeast Los Angeles where I find some amazing things. . .








. . .like these snail shells and animal bones which I take into my studio and, what else, sparkle 'em up with gold and copper leaf.

But back to the pet story . . .

Tuesday, as the weather turned cold, Donkey started to limp. We don't know exactly how old Donkey is. The estimate is between 5 and 7 years. As he limped around, I thought about arthritis and hip problems setting in. I stood at the stove, making dinner, and imagined our sweet Donkey, old and unable to walk, needing to be taken to the veterinarian to be put down, euthanized.

As I stood at the stove, all I could see was that horrible trip to the vet, imagining every detail. I stood there, crying into my taco meat.

We've only had him since April, and already I can't imagine our home without him.