Lessons

Norman's Little League team from 1962, coached by his dad

Today is Friday, the end of a school week for teachers still teaching. The neighborhood kids spend each week boarding a school bus in front of my house with sleepy eyes and heavy backpacks. They all jump off the bus at 3:30 full of energy and excitement. Their day is only half over and they have places to go, lessons to take, and balls to throw.

Back in my day, I walked the five blocks to school, and after-school activities involved a snack and homework. If the weather was nice, I might have gone outside and played with the kids on the block, coming back home when dinner was ready.

I could not have been driven anywhere. My dad worked all day, as dads do, and my mom did not drive. She tried to learn, honestly. She took Driver's Ed as an adult and then drove the car into a snow bank during her driving test. Embarrassed, she abandoned the car and whoever was testing her skills, walked herself home, and that was that. So unless I was old enough to board a bus to Flushing, I kept myself busy with the kids on the block. I always had my crafts and never complained about my after-school activities. It was my time to do as I pleased and I enjoyed having the hours to myself. It was fun. I once got a big box of colorful telephone wires and my friends and I made flower rings out of the twisted wires to sell at school. Even then, if I wasn't dreaming up stories in my head, I was trying to make it as an artist.

Sports was one of the organized activities when we were young. Norman played on many teams with his dad as his coach, just as he coached our own sons after school. I don't always understand the new rules these days with everyone winning a trophy. It is almost as if people are afraid to let kids learn the value of competing in a world that will challenge them to compete all the time. At least sports continues to be a source of exercise and fresh air in this video-centric world. My son Zach learned how to be a team player and how to respect everyone else and the game. He learned the importance of fair play and that life is not always fair, all lessons that will turn any child into a fine adult. And Zach is one of the finest I know.

Music was also a thing back then. My mom hired some lady with too much perfume to give us piano lessons at home when we were young. Not that my brother or I can play (or dance... we were not born with rhythm, it seems), but we did learn how to read music, a skill I find oddly useful. My son, Sam, has a full schedule of piano, voice and ukelele lessons he offers after school for a new generation of kids who are not allowed to be bored. But that's a good thing. Music enhances your coordination, your memory skills, your sense of discipline and dedication, and if you are any good at it, you can make everyone else happy with your melodies. Thank goodness for the musicians of the world and for Sam.

This all brings me to the point of this story. What about art lessons? That was unheard of back in the day. The fact that my dad went to an "art" school was pretty progressive of his parents. As a working artist, my dad supplied me with tons of fun materials in my house and I practiced art all the time. It was my choice of activity. As my daughter Katie could tell you when she used to fill sketchbooks with intricate and beautiful line drawings (a precursor to the Zentangle books of today), art is a calming activity and it eases the stress of everything else. Art makes the world a beautiful place. So does Katie.

In my retirement, I now offer art lessons for those who want to find their creative voice. For a subject that is not considered important in public schools, art teaches critical thinking skills, a problem-solving practice that carries over to all other subjects. It increases a child's imagination and creativity in a world with robots taking over all unimaginative jobs.

Manipulating the tools in the art room enhances your fine motor skills, and art history exposes you to cultural awareness and a better understanding of your place in this world.

I could go on.

I developed the curriculum for elementary school art over many years.

Yet, art still seems to be the last thing people consider when they are raising their families. My kids all grew into better people for experiencing a full range of opportunities. You never know what will turn out to be your path to making this world a better place. Well, I'm your person if you want an after-school dose of culture. So what are you doing this afternoon?

Running around in circles

A fortune cookie left for me on the counter during the summer must have been written just for me.

"If you chase two rabbits, both will escape."

Its been barely one month since school started. . . without me. I have been running around in circles, just as Murray does when he chases a squirrel, a bird, or a rabbit around a tree. Silly boy does not realize that the squirrel climbed up the tree, the bird flew away, or the rabbit hopped to safety under a bush. My dog will continue to race around the tree, making a ruckus out of the fallen leaves and chasing away all the critters, even those he did not see. He thinks that if he is clever or patient enough, he will catch his new friend.

I have a dream of catching myself a job as an artist and I continue to think that if I am clever or patient enough, I will catch my dream. I enjoy the act of creating things and the teacher in me loves to share what I create with others. I even went ahead and printed out two separate business cards to tell this to the world. If I chase two rabbits, will they both escape?

My friend Ave once taught me something important. A person can have many cute fluffy rabbits in their life. Ave has a practice of working on many paintings in her studio, something I could not fathom at the time. That seemed to me as crazy as reading many books at the same time. How do you keep the characters straight? But to live a full and vibrant life, as my friend Ave does, my week should hop along with many opportunities.

For me, that would include doing something creative every day and that does not have to be a framed canvas. It could be dreaming up dinner in the kitchen. I would do at least one satisfying, Instagram worthy, excited to start again the next day, creative project that makes my week memorable. And I would continue to write each day, as that has become a very therapeutic and creative exercise. Exercising my body would also help and I need to find a new social circle. My teaching friends are busy teaching.

Helping someone else should be on everyone's checklist. That's a big goal. I felt helpful to others at school with no expectations for payback. I like helping others, it fills me with happiness. How do I do that at home? Volunteer somewhere? And, inspiration is the key to everything. What will I write about tomorrow? What will I paint or draw? Going to a museum helps. Books and movies get me thinking. Just living life inspires me.

As it happens in the circle of life, we celebrated three births this year, an engagement of two young people in love, and today we lay a friend to rest. Funerals along with the joyous times are bound to happen. Life happens. What you do each day should give you the energy to celebrate the good times and support the ones you love during the rest. So what's on your list?

A Sewist in the Family

My grandmother, Baboo

This weekend, I went shopping with Katie. We had a wandering kind of day, browsing the racks in TJ Maxx and buying stuff we had no idea we needed. I didn't think I was a 'Maxxinista,' but my wagon was full. My mindless shopping spree made me realize that I have very little to shop for right now. I don't need professional clothes. I don't need sweatshirts either. It is amazing how I seem to buy the same thing over and over again. I like a basic gray sweat with a hood for walking Murray on windy days. How many of those do I really need, especially now that I can't afford such a luxury?

Another thing I always seem to want is a new bag, or a purse, as Baboo used to call it. TJ Maxx is aware of this weakness and they entice me with rows and rows of pretty bags right inside the front door. It doesn't have to be a designer bag, but at least at this store, a fancy lady could afford the label if one catches her eye. These days, I am more into vegan leather bags or canvas bags and I especially enjoy a backpack that keeps my hands free and all that weight off one aching shoulder. Katie and I will never pass the racks of bags by without at least a glance or a fond caress.

Beaded purse, hand sewn and hand beaded by Baboo

I am a person who enjoys being busy and when I'm not busy shopping (Donna and Andrea can stop laughing now), I am busy with my art. I know I get my love for art from my dad. Fine art that is. But I also love crafts and I love to sew. There are forums of craftspeople discussing the difference between real art and the art of the craft, and there are quilters out there who should be considered true artists, in every sense of the word. That line is certainly blurred, even in a dictionary. I had no clue where to find a Webster's in my overcrowded house, so this definition is thanks to Google, the higher authority on any or all things.

art·ist /ärdəst/ noun

• a person who produces paintings or drawings as a profession or hobby; 
• a person who practices any of the various creative arts, such as a sculptor, novelist, poet, or filmmaker; 
• a person skilled at a particular task or occupation.

Well, that's me.
And it was Baboo as well. My online quilting friends would have called her a sewist . . . a sewing artist. She had a treadle Singer sewing machine in our house that did not need electricity. She sewed clothes as a career woman back in the 30's and 40's. And apparently, she beaded very well.

Look at the silk lining of her purse! There is even a little silk pocket inside to hold that lovely comb.

My grandmother's eyesight failed her later in years, forcing her into a retirement from sewing. I remember Baboo asking me to thread the needles for her, and then eventually she gave up stitching altogether. She was always interested in my sewing projects and she was never shy about giving me her opinion through good eyes or not.

I wonder if she would have approved of the sweet new wallet I bought this weekend with Katie. It has a pretty sewing pattern printed on the outside and a perfect little snap closure just as Baboo would have liked.

Is this Art?

Norman in Paris

Street art.
Art without walls.
Big orange curtains flowing over a river.
Painted cows and rhinos.
Is this art?

Photo of a painted rhino in London as shown today in the NY Times. I wonder if my friend Vicki will see them.

I think many people who visit the Louvre, come for a photo with Mona and then quickly leave to take a better selfie somewhere else in the lovely city. This provides proof of a visit to a museum that holds thousands of years of art history. Standing with their backs to the famous painting to take a photo with her, Mona Lisa is now on everyone’s memory cards or saved to their Google photo app. This proves they have been to Paris and this also proves that they know art when they see it.

I found some of the people more interesting than some of the art in the museums of Paris

Ten years ago, Norman and I spent a week in Paris. My sports enthusiast husband followed his art teacher wife around the museums of the city, posing with sculptures and wandering through at least one museum every day for eight days. Norman rested on a bench somewhere in the Louvre while I sketched some of the Greek sculptures. This was way more thrilling to me than a quick photo op of Mona. I used to sketch the sculptures in the Metropolitan Museum of Art when I was in college. I can now say I sketched in the Louvre. How cool is that? It was.

I was happily ensconced in a corner of a marble-filled room sketching away. My chosen bust of a Grecian man created by the hands of an unknown artist from some year, B.C., was not a tourist attraction. But, because I was sketching the beautifully chiseled nose, full lips and curly hair, this ancient Greek guy suddenly became an object of interest to others. I attracted a crowd with flashes of light capturing me along with the marble bust on other people's memory cards. Was this sculpture "art" before I caught anyone else's interest?

A Jeff Koons sculpture in Versailles

A market outside Versailles

We also spent an afternoon wandering the halls of Versailles during that trip to France. Clutching my Rick Steve's guide to the Palace, I was trying to find the scenes on the walls depicting the history of France but there were shiny metallic balloon sculptures in my way. Our luck they had a pop-up installation of Jeff Koons art in the center of each space. I found the contrast of the modern pieces in the traditional rooms to be funny and we took many pictures of these ironic moments, but I did not see Versailles as Rick Steve suggested. I left feeling confused, way too old, and more than happy to find a great food market for lunch outside the Palace gates. The market was just as memorable and probably more rewarding than the art that day. Ten years before food became the most photographed image on people's phones, food was my subject matter for the day. Is food art? It is to my son, Sam.

I do not understand modern installations. On the banks of the Hudson River in Beacon, New York, where you don't need a passport to enter, is the Dia: Beacon. The Dia is in a renovated Nabisco factory building where they used to print the boxes for the cookies. The idea of using industrial spaces for art is not a new concept and it happily reminded me of the gallery lofts in Soho I used to frequent with my dad when I was little. Now Soho looks like Madison Avenue, but that's another rant for another day.

An example of an installation I saw at the Dia was a cardboard box ripped open and stuck in the corner of an empty room. That's it. It seems that the visitor (me) was supposed to appreciate the space as art and what the box or indeed what my presence did to that space. Huh?

I know about art. My father is an artist. I used to teach art, I dabble in creating art, and I am still learning about its history. Today there is a lecture in my local library about Picasso. Since I do not have school nights anymore, I can do things like attend lectures. I look forward to hearing about Picasso from the point of view of a visiting author. I will always be a student. I will continue to explore what art means today even if I continue to resist what I don't understand.

I don't have expectations of grandeur in my own art. I don't expect anything other than I hope to make someone else happy who loves their dog, as it makes me feel happy to be an artist. I have a cute black dog named Bear on my easel today, and I hope one day, we can take another trip to where people think art is something more than a cardboard box.

Until then, my claim to fame is painting fur and other things. Here is my new printed business card. Commissions are open!