Take my class

This year the adjunct faculty had an assignment, write a short email answering the question "What do I want my students to walk away with?" In the absence of anything else to blog about, I thought I would share my thoughts with you...

Over the years I have had the random former student email me telling me they saw this or that painting, and that they were able to identify it because of my class. However I really sincerely doubt that the majority of my students, even the best, would be able to do this within weeks of taking my class. I don't want to sound mean, thought I know it sounds jaded, but simply put, if it isn’t in their interest they are going to forget it, quickly.

This begs the question, why teach if they aren’t going to remember? To answer this question I want to share an anecdote that happened to me some years ago. As I was standing beside the copier, I was engaged in small talk with another professor from a different department. When I told him I taught Art he looked at me rather smugly and said, “So, what is Art?”

“Take my class.” I said.

The answer to this question, a question, incidentally, that opens the first paragraph of our textbook, is no small matter. Is it the work of art, the process the artist uses to create a piece, or the skill and craft of the artist themselves? Over the years I have come to believe that Art is a language, a language of the culture and the time in which it was created. To tell you what art is, I must first teach you to speak that language, understand its nuances and syntax, and then, versed in this language we can begin a cover the meaning of the question, “What is art?”

That being said, here are some of the things that I want my students to gain from my class:


1. That art is a lens though which we view culture.

2. That there is a specific language used to communicate how this lens functions.

3. That this lens will vary with time and place, and is unique to its own particular set of circumstances

4. That to use this lens we must first take of the lens of our own culture, or, as it were, peek around it as much as is possible.

5. That to learn this language, one must not only study images, but also ideas, history, other languages, and in short, other cultures.

In the end what I want to teach my students is how to approach art, I want to teach my students how to think about art, so that with this mindset, they can look at any work of art, and not just "Las Menias" or the "Arnofini Wedding Portrait", and walk away with a new found appreciation and understanding of the work that is in front of them.

Elizabeth Murray on my favorite painting

This is the American Artist Elizabeth Murray. It turns out she and I love the same painting. Actually a lot of what she says in this very short clip resonates with me. It makes me wish I had known her.




Excavation was done by William de Kooning in 1950. This painting is an example of de Kooning's complex and dense style. Like many Ab Ex artists of this time, de Kooning's painting reflects a synthesis of Cubism and Surrealism. You can claw your way though the images in this work, uncovering layer after layer of meaning (hence the title).

Did I mention I love my therapist?

“What do you think of when you think of a higher power?”
“Honestly?” I paused giving the question its full weight. “I think of nothing.” I could see she was searching my face for some emotional response. “Not a nihilist or atheist nothing, like 'there is nothing out there' kind of nothing. Rather it is more like a 'once you are a part of the all what is the difference between being part of everything and being part of nothing'…nothing.”
“What does this nothing look like to you, then?”
“You mean am I blissed out, living with angels and harps? No, probably not. But I suspect that given the alternative, being a part of this nothing is a helluva lot better than the alternative.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean a world full of opposites, good/bad, right/wrong, even earth/heaven. You know the idea of heaven is a little suspect, isn’t it. It is just another aspect of the same old thing. We are born, we live, we die, and then we go to heaven. Then, because we don’t know any better, or because that is the way it is, it starts all over again. I want off this cosmic merry-go-round. That is my idea of heaven.”
“So why not get off?”
“I would if I could.”
“Have you tried doing it in reverse?”
I paused and thought about this for a moment. “You had me right up until the end. What do you mean, doing it in reverse?”
“So, according to you, there is nothing, and the nothing is split into a universe of opposites.”
“Right. First there is the word, and the word is separate from the silence.”
“And then one is judged good and the other…”
“Bad.” I added with extra emphasis.
“Right, bad. And so it goes, opposites are created and values are given to each pair of opposites. One is good the other is bad.”
“I think I see what you mean.”
“So now you take it in reverse. You identify what opposites you give value judgments, and remove the values, without values there is no…”
“Difference?” I interrupt.
“Without, value judgments the differences fade, without differences, there is no opposite. In the end all you are left with is your nothing.”
“I don’t think it is as easy as that.” I add skeptically.
“Have you tried it?” She asked inquisitively.
“No.” I said matter-of-factly.
“Well then how do you know?”
“Every movement towards the divine takes an act of faith.” I say superiorly.
“Why don’t you try?” she said, patiently.
“I suppose I have nothing to lose.” I say with a bit of defeat.