The Creative Cycle

The Drawing Machine by Joseph L. Griffiths. Holy genius.

Following Up

Yesterday I met with the Japan-trip group for a "follow-up meeting." While the intention was to lesson plan and share academic resources, it turned out to be a picture-sharing, Facebook-tagging, jam session.  Awesomely wonderful to reunite, chat, giggle, and gossip.  I felt kind of funny seeing everyone in a separate life. Alien.  For three weeks in July we were twelve people; one unit.  Gluing ourselves to one another we learned each other's insides and outsides.  Truth, beauty, laughter, intellect, humor, weakness.  As foreigners in a novel land, we traveled in a shared experience.  Leaving Japan saddened me, but parting from our group challenged me.  Back to life. Back to reality.   Consumed for months with weekend study sessions, language classes, preparatory shopping, and delightful anticipation, returning home let me down.  And now?

Blogging. Moving. Dreaming. Sharing.

Upon Arrival

It's Friday July 2nd, and I just spent the first day of my trip visiting different temples and shrines in the city of Kyoto.  It took close to twenty-four hours to arrive here.  After being crammed in a middle seat for thirteen hours we landed in Tokyo and then took two trains before reaching our hotel.  Completely exhausted and hard to concentrate during the tour.  I think it's gonna take a couple of days to settle in here.  Just bought a ton of water from a seven-eleven as not to repeat today's mistake of not coming prepared with own water.  Completly dehydrated in this insane heat!  I thought New York and Miami were humid- nothing like this! 

But the food is great.  We had a very special vegetarian lunch at a temple.  I have neverhad such unique textures, flavors, and prepaations of vegetables.

My eyes are closing and my thoughts are incomplete.  Under the covers I go.

Oyasuminasai.

Japan Bound

It is time.  I'm leaving for Newark airport in 30 minutes and am completely excited, nervous, anxious, and nauseous.  Last night two of my amazing friends from school came over and we got a little too happy drinking Sangria and chatting about the year.  Not feeling my most glamorous self this morning.  Whatever.  Totally worth it.  

Luggage packed. Room cleaned. Me dressed.  Japan bound.

Ittekimasu New York!

Drenched

The last days of school are here and i'm experiencing complete and utter attachment to my kids! NOOOO!!! Don't leave me! I'm the first to acknowledge all the ups and downs over these past ten months, but still I can't let go.  Friday was the eighth grade's Moving Up ceremony and as I watched my first class graduate, I felt just as elated as they did.  Total parental moment.  When one of my students, an artsy, quirky, and often neglected kid, received an award to honor her achievements over the past three years in the after school program, little puddles dripped down my face.  Completely consumed with joy.

The seventh grade student and teachers went on 2,000 trips over the past two weeks.  Like many overcrowded schools in NYC, our school's space is limited.  While the high schoolers took their Regents exams, middle schoolers were gently forced out of the building.  In turn we went on every possible free trip you could bring eighty high pitched, dramatic adolescents to in Manhattan.  Exhaustion is an understatement.  Impossible for me to move my legs once home.  To tell the truth though, and if you know me you're aware, I'm still very much a kid. Basically I tired myself out.  Extremely hyper as I played along with them and encouraged team spirit and competitiveness.  It is true i've learned that I am a competitive person (unaware during my childhood).  As you can imagine all the bonding time spent together increases my attachment,  causing our end of days together to be even more traumatic.  Don't get me wrong- I cannot wait 'til I depart for Japan! (three days away ahhh)

The examples below exhibit the time my students thought it was a great idea for me to share their fun as they poured water on me and held me in the sprinklers at the park.  Ok in the moment it was awesome- but I was so drenched I had to cancel my after school appointment, go home, and wash myself off!

A kid with adult responsibilities :) 

Happy Children's Day!

My mind has been wandering about Father's Day for some time now.  Somehow I convinced myself that it was to be celebrated last Sunday. Also I'm reminded that my Father is no longer here, with me.  Truth be told my sisters and I never made a big deal about it.  Mother's Day always took precedence, which in fact hurt our Father.  It's said that Mother's Day, Father's Day, Valentine's Day and some others were created by the card companies.  Mother's Day always felt appropriate; to recognize a mom's unappreciated dedication to her family.  But Father's Day? Wasn't it a date put on the calendar so our fathers no longer felt like soar losers?

Traditionally this makes sense.  Certainly growing up we gave our Dad a mini birthday in June.  If by chance my sisters' or I had prior engagements (June is testing season)- his feelings were hurt!  My Dad was a sensitive guy.  I did not understand this during my frustrated, traumatic adolescence.  Still I felt protected and loved him to pieces.

All year Sundays were our Father's Day.  He worked hard, routinely went to the office in morning, but ensured we shared time together during the afternoon.  Even as a college student we went to museums, zoos and rode bikes on Sundays.  Fun or boring we did it anyway. And my Mom was always there to make sure he was well fed and that we LEFT!  Of course I miss him and think of him constantly.  But I know he was a good father.  The way a father should be.

My Father's Day is different from my Students' Father's Day and many kids today.  Sadly Dad's are not always around so today encourages spending time with children.  At school on Friday I overheard two kids talking about all the fun activities they were planning for today.  And I realized that Father's Day is now important in a new way.  Not to appreciate a Father.  For a father to appreciate his children.

Yes I am bittersweet today.  But I wholly wish my students' dreams are fulfilled today and that their unique qualities are celebrated.

Happy Father's Day!  Happy Children's Day!  Daddy I hold you in my heart.

Untimely Turns

Can I cry now? Please. I just got cursed out and insulted by a student in front of the class and it stings. Really and truly. I shouldn't take it personally. A rule teachers must follow in order to keep their heads above water. But it takes effort. And right now, with all the other depressing losses in my life, my insides are bulging outward. I wish to sulk in the misery of the untimely death of my loving Renee (whom I just wrote about). Life seems so temporary and security no longer exists. Change is inevitable. Childhood slips away. Still there is light. I hope. I realize that my student is a tempramental adolescent and the sting will ease. In the words of Renee, "Lisa, you got to develop thicker skin." I'll keep working on it.

To Renee's family in mourning: "May the Lord comfort you with all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem."

I Feared you, I Love you

I dedicate this post to Renee Darvin who challenged my choices and offered a new direction; the right one.  I love you Renee.  Forever.

I  received my Master's degree in May 2008 after  two rigorous years at Teachers College from the Art and Art Education program.  It was the best of times and the worst of times.  Shortly after I began my journey to become a great art educator, my father passed away. Suddenly.  I began my degree as a child but completed it as an old person.  Tragedy broke me.  During that dark and ugly time I felt safe inside the walls of Macy Hall.  My friends, which I met just a few months before, provided comfort and support.  It surprised me how smiley, giggly, happy, and focused I could be at school. Unlike the grief that swallowed me at home.

Choosing TC was the best and first decision I had ever made.  I finally found my strengths.

But Renee, because of you I found a voice.  My voice.  You saw me.  A larger person behind my softer shell.  Oh Renee you've touched my soul.  I wish I was the one single person whose life you profoundly affected with your stern generosity, but no, you reached so many.

Yesterday I went to Teachers College for my second reunion with the Art Ed graduates.  Of course I went enthusiastically, expecting to see and chat with many people I have not been in contact with for too long :(  But my experience was unlike what I had anticipated.  About a month ago a letter arrived from Renee inviting alumni to the reunion while also announcing her retirement.  Well deserved. (she's been educating for 50 years!)  This year the reunion was to honor her achievements as a phenomenal art educator and essential component of the Art Ed faculty at TC.  But I was not aware of her health condition.  I heard she had not been well, but until she arrived yesterday evening I had not accepted this truth.  No one likes to see a hero become weak.  Unnatural.  Still the event was beautiful, heartwarming, and enlightening about Renee's special and honest character.

So if you've met Renee you know she's tough as nails and will always continue to teach whomever she can.

Thank you Renee. Thank you for your gifts.  You are my hero.  I love you.

Chaos Controlled

I am not the neatest person alive.  Not hard for me to admit.  I'd rather be clean than neat.  But I hate, hate, hate getting messy with my students.  I know what you are thinking- art teachers should get dirty.  No!    Not required. Occasionally though, I loosen my strings, and invite chaos.  This week it came in the form of spray painting.  After finishing a long unit about stencil design and street art, I promised my little artists, that we would go outside and spray paint our stencils onto new surfaces (legal obviously).  Ensuring I keep my word (and their trust) I lugged the eighteen cans home during spring break.  Dedication.

Freedom! Freedom! Freedom! Or so they thought.  Spray painting equals instant gratification.  Perfect for evolving adolescents.  I, the teacher, exhibited powerful self control as to not ruin the activity for the students.  But honestly speaking it was worth it.  As long as I don't have to again for a long while :)

Traveling Seeker

I'm a bit obsessed with traveling.  I haven't done much yet.  But I plan to.  Appreciating that my job offers me time, traveling is truly a realistic possibility!  My parents were, to be fair, cautious (overly) and ingrained in me the  magnitude of safety.  Although I am adventurous and a curious seeker I can't shake that little timid voice of concern.  Still when I become a grown-up (ok I am one already) I'd like to spend my earned money three ways:
1. Quality food - especially good produce, which has always been essential (gracias mama i.l.u.)
2. A place to call home- in a neighborhood that makes me happy, with lots of sunlight
3. Travels- high and low; near and far; experiencing how others create their lives

Last summer I took my first real live adventure travel to Morocco.  Holy moly I loved it so!  My regularly changing list of places I seek currently includes:
1. Guatemala
2. Spain and Portugal
3. South Africa
4. Thailand
5. San Francisco
6. Nepal
7. Argentina
8. Greece
9. Egypt
10. India

I'll soon be traveling to Japan and honestly I never put much thought in going there.  But this wonderful opportunity presented itself and as departure nears I realize wow I am one lucky teacher :)

Coming Home

Home. Certainly it does exist. Right? I think. Well maybe. Or not. I wonder. Is it true?

This week we celebrate Passover, a Jewish annual holiday marking our freedom from slavery in Egypt thousands of years ago.  Passover, to most Jews, is defined by two characteristics : No form of bread is to be eaten (replaced by Matzah- unleavened bread) and a Seder (ritual feast) is conducted on the first two nights.  As I grow older (maybe wiser) the Great Passover Vacations of my youth, once shared yearly with extended family in Florida, dissolve into scattered nostalgic thoughts.    It seems like everything has changed.  Not everything. But much of it.  And while I cannot relive those celebrated times, it's truly essential that these memories aide in building new ones.

Coming home, what is that about anyway? Really and truly it confuses, intimidates, and distresses me.  As an independent, rent paying, NYC apartment dweller, a return to the nest is similar to entering a time warp. Outwardly we've all changed and grown into mature beautiful women but on the inside it's all just a joke:  The smells of cooking and cleaning; the rules we must comply to (no cursing, shoes on the furniture, burping, screaming, etc.), the family member alliances, and the pestering behaviors are exactly the same. I left skid-marks on my adolescence, never to return again.  But on holidays and especially Passover, when eight days are spent in the nest, somehow those unhappy teenage experiences replay as if I am living them all over again.  My sisters and I have outgrown much of our quarrels, Sure! What I've come to understand now, (because of my fascination with family dynamics) is that whatever your age, without conscious effort to be different, we always slip back into our place.  Familiarity is comfort.  For me that place is in the kitchen.  Cooking food and preparing meals gives me a necessary job, precisely removing me from other uncomfortable situations.

The nest, is that my home or my mother's home? Similarly the Hebrews, as they were once called, (check out the Ten Commandments) struggled with this concept once freed from Egyptian slavery.  For obvious reasons slavery was horrid, but they were accustomed to it. Freedom on the other hand was unknown.  While Egypt was clearly not their home, they were scared to leave.  Homeless wanderers not a thrilling option!   Truth- most did not join Moses as he led his people out of Egypt.  Whether joining the free or remaining behind, the Hebrews were without a nest.

Still we are a united people :)

and my sisters and I will forever laugh at new things and entertain ourselves throughout our time shared together.

The Fine Line

Mixing business with pleasure.  A lot can be said.  And has been said.  The school I teach at is small. The teachers are young.  There is a lot of socializing.  During school.  And after.  Really and truly I am grateful to my colleagues.  They are the cheese to my macaroni (Juno, how I love you so.)  After-school hours shared together relax, destress, and unite us all.  But countless hours spent in a dark, loud, damp space leaves me to wonder: when does the appropriate become the excessive?  The teammates and I just celebrated a birthday. A special friend, well loved.  While the party was a blast (universally agreed), the fine line between colleague and friend was moved.  An issue that has already emerged and will continue to.  What I think important is that no matter the situation we always represent some version of ourselves.
Save the line. It belongs.

Animated Charm

I'm about to sound really corny.  Apologies.  But Snow White is on TV and it is holding my hands and warming my heart.  It had to be said.  The film is old hollywood charm at its best.  I never realized how high pitch Snow White sounds.  Did you know that the film was Disney's first full length feature animated film? Just learned. I grew up on Disney videos so whenever one is on the tube I devote some time to it.  Though Snow White was not on my top five list as a kid when I was younger, I'm thinking it deserves a higher rank.  Especially since it is pretty fantastic.   Nothing like some prince charming charm, cute little dwarfs, and singing animals.

Excitement at the Oscars

winner! The Weary Kind, the song from Crazy Heart, received the Oscar for best song :) Deserving.

The Water Element

I am loving Deepa Mehta.  Thanks to the magical invention of Netflix, a movie called Water arrived in my mailbox this week.  So long since I put it on my queue that I had no idea what kind of film it was when I put it on.  I devoured the DVD- watching all of its features, listening to every bit of commentary, absorbing all of its artistic and musical gifts.  Deepa (we're friends, aren't we?) wrote and directed this heart-wrenching story about the life widows in India.  According to the film there is a misinterpretation of the Hindi text that describes the fate of widows.  The film is set in 1938 when Ghandi is becoming popular.  It takes place in a ashram where widows are forced to live out their days piously until they meet their husbands in the afterlife.  The story follows women of different ages but focuses on the seven year old girl who is forced in  to the ashram after her fifty year old husband dies.  Like the other women in the ashram, Chuyia, as she is called, must wear only white (color of mourning) and have her head shaved. The women are permitted to eat one meal a day with no salt- as to not excite any desire! Imagine.

Many reasons I reacted so strongly, but truly it is the idea that fate can be determined by other people.  Yes I know that life brings forth certain truths that cannot be undone.  I have had my share.  Yet I think that for many of us we overlook our freedom.  I am reminded that power comes from choice, enabling us to create our own destiny.

Water is beauty, truth, sadness, darkness, and love.

Party! Holiday

Some of my fondest memories are from family holiday parties.  I come from a large European old fashioned close knit Jewish family.  What I mean is that we are a super tight unit and get-togethers are supremely loud, energetic, and delicious.  Especially now since many of my cousins are now parents themselves.  It used to be that every holiday culminated with these family festivities.  Not the case anymore.  But this year my mom decided to host a Purim party and to invite both sides of the family.  Never done before.

To some people Purim is the Jewish Halloween.  Really Purim is a festival that commemorates the salvation of the Jewish people in Ancient Persia from Haman's plot to destroy the Jews in a single day.  Three years ago my father passed away a few days prior to Purim.  In some ways my mother hosted this party so that our extended (almost immediate) family could be together at this time.  Lately I'm feeling emotional recounting some horrid moments from that tragic time.

How nice it was for us to be together again :) chatting, laughing, eating...true party fun!

Two reasons people think Purim is The Jewish Halloween:
1. We dress up in costumes (traditionally children dressed up as the heroes from the Purim story)
2. We send gifts of food to our friends (an exchange called Mishloach Manot in Hebrew)

Blogging Ladies

Last night I went to the JCC for an interview event with Julie Powell and Gretchen Rubin called From Blogs to Blockbusters. For those of you who don't already know, Julie Powell is the author of Julie and Julia (and Cleaving) and Gretchin Rubin is the author of The Happiness Project. I signed up really just to hear Julie Powell speak. I fell in love with the movie, that is based on her blog project about cooking her way through Julia child's cookbook. I knew nothing about Gretchin Rubin and didn't pay much attention to her name when I received the email invitation. The interview was focused on how their careers took off through blog writing. As a newbie blogger I was very much interested in what these successful women had to say. I hoped for tips and inspiration. I received an account of their passions in truly dissimilar manners. One left brain, one right. I thought of me and my sister: one doctor to be, one art teacher. Left brain, right brain.

I am interested in happiness. Like all other living beings. While Gretchen Rubin spoke I began to think about how complicated it is to be happy. What fascinates me is that as children it's one of the first emotions we learn. It seems basic, fundamental, easy. But as adults this almost boring emotion becomes a never-ending complicated a journey that eats away all of our energy.

I'll be happy when I am fed. I am warm. I am comfortable. I am thin. I am loved. In a relationship. In control. Own property. Earn a living. Why is it we are always one step away? It's a basic, fundamental, easy, emotion. Truth?

What I love about Julie Powell is although she is awkward, blatantly honest, and definitely not as cute as Amy Adams, she is this totally lovable woman who is completely obsessed by writing and also by food. I can kind of relate (even though no adorable hollywood actress will ever play me.)

Of course people blog for all sorts of reasons. But Julie and Gretchen write about obsession. As an ode to them I will gladly write and offer my thoughts on what obsesses me. Today it is my travel trip to Japan. More detail to follow.

My feet were prunish and soggy when I arrived home tonight. Not enough to dampen today's obsession :)

Self Worth

Precious has been on my mind all week. If you haven't yet heard of this movie -hear! If you haven't yet seen it- see! I saw it on Sunday and I know it has only been three days. Honestly though in sick time days feels longer. Yes I am still sick. Putting a damper on my weeklong vacation. :( Nose Runny. Throat clogged. I do not look or sound like much fun.

So Precious...

It's a story about a girl who has endured every form of abuse. Cruelty. Precious is the name of a sixteen year old obese girl, living in Harlem, who is pregnant for the second time by her father. She is illiterate. She is HIV Positive. Her first child is disabled. She is physically, emotionally, and verbally slaughtered by her mother. A girl ripped apart.

As I continually worry about mistreatment in its different forms, this movie highlights the idea of self worth. There is a difference between being needed and being important. It is clear Precious' mother "needs" her: to take care of her wants. But worth? Can Precious possibly know what that means? No. The movie makes us aware that Precious feels unloved, unwanted, and unnecessary. I have been thinking about the ego and how it is essential to us all. We share this as humans. We are trained to believe that too much "me" is bad. I agree. But what I know is that even little bits keep us going. Truth- people find and feel love in unique ways, yet no one can discover it unless the ego exists.

I am valuable. I am worthy. I desire. I deserve.

Fire Throat and Body Art

I wasted a self medicated sick day today :( It looks terrible not to show up the day before a holiday, but really and truly my throat's on fire. Trying not to spend the day feeling guilty (jewish) about the absence, I did what any other art teacher would do...body art! Ever since my trip to Morocco, this past summer, I am completely in love with henna. My supplies are sparse so I used what I had on my bedside- a green felt tip marker.

Now you all know what to gift me.

Sea Breeze and Henna Art on the boardwalk of Essaouira, Morocco

Bellisimo

An Introduction

I'd like to introduce my new baby. After months of research, debate, stress, and decision making, I invested in a Nikon D5000. In a word -elegance. But she is so much more. I've been playing with her in my apartment, trying to figure her out. Today was her first trip outside! Thanks Bloomberg for the opportunity (snow day). I think she liked the world outside. Unfortunately I got really soggy and cold- so we went home quite early.

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship :)

Everything looks better with freshly fallen snow

Central Park in all its glory

But of course the traffic creates dirty slush

That's Tempeh?

Well I did it. I Tried tempeh for the first time this evening. (no not a vegan, just a curious eater) Met one of my college "Art Major" friends at, Blossom, this vegan cafe in my neighborhood. It's a charming place where descriptions on the menu out-taste the food. Not sure whether it was the way it was prepared, Moroccan glazed tempeh, (sounds yummy) but it really wasn't all that. I loved the chickpea, eggplant, tomato, sweet potato, spicy stew on the bottom. There was just no way getting around the strange consolidated texture and the nutty almost bitter flavor of the tempeh.

Strangely my Metrocard went missing this afternoon. Frustration. Silly me putting twenty new dollars onto my Starbucks card and slipping it into that same case :(

I guess there are worse things.

Peanut Butter

somehow peanut butter became an addiction! no rhyme or reason just pure bliss.

This week my bliss list also includes:

1. Vimeo -making class time more fun

2. Lentils. nutritious and delicious

3. L' Ultimo Bacio (The Last Kiss) - an adorable Italian film about a group of guys afraid to grow up

Round Two

It has been over two months since my last post- not cool. I figure either I can absorb this defeat and move on to some other popularized activity or I can suck it up and try again. I choose the latter. Apologies. If not to my readers (still don't think I have any) than to myself. So here I go at my second attempt to putting myself into the blogosphere.

Thursday night I met, Gloria, my colleague and an amazing artist in Brooklyn at MoCADA for the opening of "Gentrification of Brooklyn: The Pink Elephant Speaks". Super crowded, hot and sweaty, I pushed myself between people, stuck my head in uncomfortable locations, and stepped on things I probably shouldn't have. All discomfort aside- amazing exhibition. This selective group of artists uniquely captured their experiences of Gentrification and its effects on their communities. As a native New Yorker I am constantly made aware that here wealth equals power. Gentrification is not unique to Brooklyn, it's the trend happening all through the boroughs, and Raw New York is fading fast.

Afterwards we went to another opening exhibition, not worth mentioning, which landed us in DUMBO. We went for some tasty treats, including red, red, vino (obviously) at DUMBO General Store.