The Key to Memorable Teaching

I had just been hired to teach high school art.
I stood before my mentor, the artist who had been my guide and inspiration for 21 years.
When I was in junior high school, my mother had discovered that she lived just down the street from me. I took a class with her each week until I graduated. We had remained in touch.

“What’s the best piece of advice you can give me as a new high school art teacher?” I asked. “Tomorrow is our first day of school.” I needed her words of wisdom in preparation for my new position. We were in her home studio, a spacious room with windows overlooking white pines and gnarled apple trees.

Standing there in her loose-fitting cuffed blue jeans, navy canvas boat shoes with white socks, cream oxford shirt, and paint-stained muslin apron, this middle-aged woman looked right at me. Without a moment’s hesitation she gave me the best piece of teaching advice I would ever receive:

“Shake in your shoes before you open your mouth to speak. What you say could be remembered for a lifetime. Always be humbled by the power of teaching.”

A wave of fear ran through me. I had not expected this.

“Now I’m scared,” I said. I looked at her face framed by her short, straight light brown hair. Her clear, sharp blue eyes did not waver.

“Think about it,” she said. “Think about the teachers in your life who have said things to you that you still remember to this day, for better or for worse. You want your words to be remembered for the better.”

“That’s not the piece of advice I expected, but it’s good advice. Thank you,” I replied. “I hope I don’t mess up. I hope I’m as good an art teacher as you’ve been to me.”

I was preparing to go back to teach at the high school from which I had graduated. It was my chance to teach art to them all, the ones who loved art and the ones who thought it was a waste of time. The ones who thought art was recess, and the ones who took it for an ‘easy A.’ The ones who lived and breathed art, and the ones who had yet to discover its gifts. It was my chance to teach the quiet, hesitant kids-- like I had been—to help them find and celebrate something special within themselves. And it was my chance to teach mutual respect among young adults--each different, each trying to figure out their own life, each trying to understand how they ‘fit in.’  It was my chance to teach them all—through art, our universal language, ways to discover the amazing person inside themselves and each other, at a developmentally critical moment in their lives.

So I entered my high school art classroom on that first day, and as the students filtered in, what did I do?

I shook in my shoes.

I told them what my mentor had said to me. I told them that I had thought long and hard about what to say to them. And I wanted them to know that I would do my best to have my words be remembered for the better. For I would never know which of my words, if any, they would carry with them.

Now, nearly 40 years later from that day, every so often, a former student contacts me to tell me something I had told them one day long ago that made a difference. When I hear them recall encouraging words (most often things I have long forgotten), I am humbled by how long those words have lived in memory. I breathe a sigh of relief that I had been forewarned of the power of teaching, the power of words, the key to memorable teaching.

We are all teachers in one capacity or another--parents, grandparents, bosses, colleagues, friends, neighbors.
Who are the memorable teachers in your life? In what ways are you a memorable teacher?

Drawn with Love

The week my granddaughter was born, I began to draw and paint portraits of her. These records of her growth and transformation over time are placed in a portrait album for her. The first page is a hand-drawn, hand-painted birth certificate. The pages that follow contain pencil drawings done during her first weeks in the world.

A drawn or painted portrait allows me to observe closely and carefully...the shape of an eye, the turn of the mouth, the arch of an eyebrow. When I spend time with each portrait, I spend time with my thoughts of her. I reflect with gratitude on her presence in the world. As each mark touches the page, it is a touch of love and care. I work to not only have the portrait be an accurate portrayal of the way she looks, but I also aspire to convey something of her personality and her inner spirit. I hope that each mark and stroke conveys my love. I work to make each portrait have a presence that represents that unique moment in time. Childhood is fleeting, and a child changes in the blink of an eye.

I drew and painted my own children throughout their childhood. Looking back at those pieces of art transports me right to those cherished moments. I have always felt honored to be a mother, and my art has been a natural expression of that gift to my life.

This watercolor is an example of the start of one of my recent portraits that became a gift for my granddaughter.
I cherish the items that my forebears made by hand that were given to me—embroidery, knitted and crocheted items, decorative tole painting, drawings and paintings. Perhaps the work from my own hand will also have future meaning and charm.

Welcome New Year!

This post shares the cutest way to turn the page to a New Year…the 2023 Norbert Calendar brought to you by Polly Parker Press with beautiful photography by Mark Steines, featuring my daughter’s adorable therapy dog, Norbert. It’s an honor to help Norbert do his work which is to remind everyone that you don’t need to be big to make a BIG difference in the world. Everyone can make someone smile. If you’d like to read more about Norbert’s incredible life as a 3-lb therapy dog, hop over to the Norberthood here.

Visit the Polly Parker Press Shop here, where you’ll find our latest offerings, including Norbert’s newest hard enamel pins, which I have much fun designing!

Happy New Year! May your dreams come true.

Norbert: Little Me Christmas. Second Edition is now available!

Exciting News! The Second Editions of our previously sold-out book is now available! My daughter, Julie Steines, and I co-authored this keepsake Christmas picture book, Norbert: Little Me Christmas, for the young and young at heart. It was pure delight for me to also create the full-color illustrations, cover, and book design for this 76-page hardcover book. We hope it becomes the perfect holiday gift to cherish and share. Autographed copies are also available! It is available for U.S. domestic shipping.

This book, which has long been a dream of ours, imagines Norbert on a magical Christmas Eve adventure in which he discovers the greatest gift of all. Get your copy here: https://www.pollyparkerpress.com/shop

Synopsis:
The day before Christmas, Norbert wants to give the perfect gift to his Momma, but he is at a loss for ideas. Due to unexpected circumstances, he finds himself miles from home in a snowstorm. This plucky little three-pound dog is determined to find his way home by Christmas Day. Against all odds and assisted in surprising ways, Norbert overcomes obstacles, finds hope, shows kindness, and celebrates the importance of home.

Illustration by Virginia Freyermuth, Norbert: Little Me Christmas

Cultivating Creativity

How do you cultivate and nourish your creative self?

I like to keep my art materials readily available. A set of paints set out on my drawing table invites me to pause and play. Invariably, play leads to ideas and taps into the creative mindset. For many, simply starting a creative project is the hardest part. Then, once involved in the process and flow of making and doing, the hardest thing can be stopping.

Another way I keep my creative mindset fresh is to get out and visit galleries, museums, and shows. Wandering a bookstore, visiting a little town I’ve never seen before, taking a walk, reading a book…there are many things that can prompt an idea. Being open to connections from seemingly unrelated sources can lead to some delightful and insightful surprises.

Recently I visited a gorgeous exhibition at the Portland Museum of Art, Portland, Maine. The exhibition features the work of N.C. Wyeth, an artist whose work I have long admired. An illustrator from the golden age of picture books, and a student of Howard Pyle, his paintings are dynamic with outstanding draughtsmanship and wonderful storytelling capacities. If you live anywhere close, I highly recommend it. The exhibition continues through January 12, 2020. Here is a link for more information: https://www.portlandmuseum.org/exhibitions/nc-wyeth

N.C. Wyeth

Magic Moments

Recently I was sorting through old portfolios of my artwork, viewing drawings I has not looked at in decades. It is fascinating to look at work one did  many years ago, for it is easy to forget or not comprehend growth over time.  

I came across this early pencil self-portrait, done in my teens. It had been a homework assignment, to do a drawing while observing your face in the mirror, carefully explaining the turns of the face and the forms of the features. The point was not to create a likeness, but to create a work that looked believable in its solidity and forms.

I was frustrated as I worked through the assignment, erasing over and over to get the lines and shapes placed properly, and to describe the complexity of the three-dimensionality. After about 20 hours of work, it happened. Or I should say it happened. It was a magical moment I would strive for every time thereafter drawing a portrait: that instant when it felt as though the portrait was looking back at me, as though it had a presence of its own. It was a moment when the drawing transcended the fact that it was pencil marks on a piece of paper. The drawing came to life. It was me looking back at myself.

When I came across this drawing a few weeks ago, I re-lived that magical moment once again, and a flood of emotion came over me as I recalled that subtle turn of perception that changed everything. Drawing would never be the same. From then on, I wanted to feel the amazement and deep satisfaction of sensing that my work had an energy and force all its own.

I would try again and again, and I often did not succeed. And, yet, sometimes I did. That first magical moment was enough to sustain my efforts, always knowing that it was possible albeit elusive, throughout my formal education and then into a professional career. I discovered that with time, effort, knowledge, extreme care, thoughtfulness, and sincerity of intention, the frequency of the sense that my creation could convey a presence increased. People sometimes remark at a person’s talent, but I have come to suspect that perhaps what is an inborn inclination towards a pursuit is greatly nurtured and elevated with a lot of effort and hard work.

More than a likeness, more than a fine or pretty picture, more than technical competency, what continued to interest me was the process of exploration in search of the inner spirit reflected outwardly. As a creator and one sensitive to the observed and the felt, this process has remained endlessly fascinating. Where do you find your own magic moments?

THE TREASURE OF LITTLE CRANBERRY ISLAND

Years ago, when my children, Jeff and Julie, were young, my family had the honor and privilege of spending an afternoon with artist/author/storyteller Ashley Bryan in his home on Little Cranberry Island off the coast of Mount Desert, Maine. That warm summer day, he greeted us at the mailboat dock; and as he leisurely walked along the dirt road toward his house telling my daughter tales in his fabled expressive storyteller voice, we continued ahead to his home where we had time to explore his many collections of toys, puppets, and beach combings set about on tables, shelves, and walls. As if in a grand emporium, every available inch of space was lovingly filled with seemingly endless, whimsical delights.

He took us through his studio, sharing his numerous work stations for the varied projects in process. I will always remember the fascinating illustrations and paintings, and the stained glass window along one wall of his studio, crafted of beach glass and black paper mache. Clearly, his inventiveness, playfulness and childhood wonder were alive and well.

When I learned that a selection of Ashley’s children’s book illustrations were on exhibit at the Portland Museum of Art (Painter and Poet, through November 25, 2018, Portland, Maine), I had to go so that I might yet again feel the amazement, respect and delight I experienced that day long ago. Seeing many of the same puppets created of scavenged materials that so magnificently came to life in his hands felt like greeting old friends.

Puppets made of found materials by Ashley Bryan

I have long admired Ashley Bryan’s life work, for the challenges he overcame to become whom he was meant to be, for the interests and beliefs he so deeply explored, and for the enchanting joy and vibrant energy he has brought to all his art, writing and interactions with others—particularly children who came to adore him. As an award-winning “pioneer of African and African American representation in the children’s book medium,” he has published over 50 titles.

Illustration detail, collage, by Ashley Bryan

This man with the broad smile and good-hearted nature who moved seemingly effortlessly from one medium or creative style to the next, depending on the subject at hand, is now 95 years old. But I suspect he is still quite young at heart.

It was a beautiful exhibit, supplemented with boxes of many of his books that I took my time perusing. I am glad this distinguished museum provided the opportunity for people to come to know the work of this extraordinary creator. I only would have loved to see even more of his illustration work on display! I came away inspired and grateful that my family had the opportunity to meet this incredible man in person at his home. Now, as an author, artist, illustrator and teacher myself, I am forever grateful to Ashley as a role model. Dear Ashley, thank you for continuing to be an inspiration for me, my family, and for so many others. You are a true treasure of Little Cranberry Island and beyond.

A SENSE OF WONDER

Spring, the season of rebirth, is miraculous to me. Without fail, no matter how hard or cold the winter, the sun warms, the song birds return, the branches bud, and all of Nature awakens after its long nap. To celebrate the Spring Equinox, I have created this double portrait of my daughter and her daughter, giving it the title "A Sense of Wonder."

Ecologist and author Rachel Carson wrote, "If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder...he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in."

This painting was created using watercolor, gouache, and colored pencil. It speaks to the discoveries of childhood, and the curiosity, amazement and delight of a youngster who is quite new to this planet. That wide-eyed wonder should serve to refresh our own sense of wonder. It should remind us that we are, after all, surrounded by miracles. Let us never take for granted this amazing experience of life. Let us renew our love for the earth and be the best stewards of this planet for the generations to come, so that our children's children's children may also open their eyes in wonder to this beautiful orb we all call home. May this new season inspire within us the birth of that which can still beautifully grow, flourish and transform. It is the great season of beginning yet again. It is wondrous.

COZY UP WITH YOUR SKETCHBOOK! WINTER 2018 ART CLASS

I love to set out my pencils, brushes and paints at this time of year on the little desk in my winter studio. My barn studio always awaits my extended creative work, but on icy New England winter mornings, I love to start my day with tiny watercolor studies in a warm little writing room just off my kitchen. A small wooden desk topped with my tiny travel set of watercolors, a few pencils, and some natural objects is all I need for a quiet start to the day. It gives me a good feeling all day that my inner artist has been honored and that I discovered something delightful and new as a result of studying a bit of Nature.

Perhaps you'd like to cozy up with your sketchbook and maybe some watercolors as well. If so, register now for my Discover Drawing Winter 2018 course. Enrollment is limited. Enrollment closes January 31, 2018. E-mail me for more information.

DISCOVER DRAWING FALL 2017

This is my New England barn studio in fall. At times, the distant smell of a wood-burning stove is in the air as the the days grow shorter and cooler. Flocks of Canadian geese fly overhead, and sometimes a blue heron. Recently, two dappled fawns came out of the woods to nibble on fruit that dropped from our apple trees. They did not hurry away when they saw me at the window. The apples were too good to pass up.

As a lifelong teacher, fall has always meant back to school, back to learning. New beginnings. New possibilities. New hopes. Through years of teaching art, I've found that the need to create always seems to bubble up from within. It's something that can be patiently and quietly insistent, or outright demanding. Fear of failure, fear of being too old, fear of not being good enough, fear of making mistakes, fear of the unknown--there are many fears that keep people from honoring the yearning to create from the original self.

This fall, I'm offering a basic drawing course. The spring version of this course taught me that people can do amazing work when they give themselves permission to try, when they welcome  their learning as a journey of personal growth, when their drawings are visible markers of their courage, their experimentations, and their commitment to their own creativity. It is amazing to see work that can result when people learn to be patient with their efforts and honor their fledgling attempts at something new.

If this is the season you are considering honoring the artist within, perhaps you'll join this season's class and work at your own pace. Your home studio can be as simple as the corner of a table with a little box of supplies. If there is an artist waiting in you, consider what a creative sanctuary means to you so that you can celebrate that which longs to be expressed.