Introduction
Happy almost spring! This month, we have updates from Leo and Warwick and a bonus essay on teaching, by Warwick. Our third collective member, Sophiko, is currently on sabbatical until April as she completes her international move. Thanks for reading!
Updates From Leo
Recently, I’ve been focusing a lot on how to achieve the things I want in ways that are sustainable and realistic. I think in some ways, higher education, and the theatre industry, are designed to be unsustainable and the amount of stress and burnout I experienced over the past few years has left me incapacitated in a lot of ways. This year things are different, my schedule is designed around my job. I come in for work at 2pm because I have rehearsal until 10, I take days off when I work weekends, I have the time and capacity to really start thinking about what it is I want to accomplish and how I can do it.
The problem is, I don’t know what it is that I want or how to do it. I’m at that point in life where I’m fresh out of school and have no fucking clue what I’m supposed to do with my life and how to move forward– I often feel lost or like I’ve been completely split open. Ever since moving back to Massachusetts, I have been lost in thought. Examining the pieces of my life and trying to fit them together in a way that makes sense. It’s often a troubling process but in some ways, I think it has allowed me to be more open to things I had closed myself off from while in school.
I spent the years of my theatre education almost solely consuming plays– I read them every week, I went to see them whenever possible, I was almost constantly in rehearsal– there was not much room for anything else. While this exposed me to many great plays I might not have heard of otherwise, I began to develop a high tolerance and I often found myself grinding my teeth through slightly less than satisfactory plays when I would’ve been happy to see them just a few months earlier. The same became true of my theatre practice. The place I live now mostly does summer theatre and I’ve lost my student discount, so most of the art I consume, and even make, is no longer theatre. What I learned from this is the necessity of exposing yourself to different kinds of art in order to be a successful creator.
There are many different pieces I have seen in the last year that stuck with me in profound and surprising ways: art exhibits, books, movies, animated shorts, music, dance pieces, the list goes on. In many ways I think I was able to see these pieces more authentically than some plays I’ve seen recently because I was not blinded by the “practitioner’s eye”– wincing every time I noticed the actor stumble over a line or a light cue that was called slightly too late, distracted by trying to figure out how they made a prop– I just saw the compelling storytelling, the stunning visuals, the emotions it invoked in me. I was able to engage with them because I had not developed fatigue with the medium in the same way.
No matter where I end up when the dust of my 20s eventually settles, I want to try to continue to surround myself with art of all different shapes, sizes, and mediums. I want to be inspired by a poster on the street or a song I’ve had on repeat. I want to fight against the fatigue and be reminded again and again why art matters, why it means something, why we do it. I think that might be the only way to make art as a full-time job sustainable.
Updates From Warwick
Happy almost end of winter, which has dragged on with gray skies and copious amounts of work for me. I've spent the last couple of months not doing a ton as far as personal artwork goes (I threw five cups that I never trimmed, and have not been back to check on, two months later), but focusing on how I can incorporate my arts practice into my job and other day to day duties more fundamentally. I don’t exactly have an art job, but I do have a job that allows me to be creative and share my creative interests with others. One aspect of my position is hosting events for highschool age students, and together we have visited quite a few art museums.
I have complex feelings about art museums. There are a lot of incredibly important things to be said regarding colonialism and how deeply they run in many institutions, such as big art museums, and museum culture in general. There are also lots of important things to be said about how elitist they can be, how the art world treats art vs artists, etc. Nonetheless, they are intriguing. The choices that are made about how they display work, the architecture, the lighting, and the historical/cultural context explanations (or lack thereof), all contribute greatly to what someone walking into the space gets or doesn’t get from a piece. I have done this enough times to know that I will always look to see how something is mounted, notice where the light is coming from, notice where they place seating (or, where they don't), and think about how these decisions are made from a technical and conceptual point of view. Letting students loose, I have no idea what they will think. I have no idea where their eyes will linger, what they will enjoy, what will exhaust them. The debriefs we have in the car remind me both of how exciting and how inaccessible art can be, listening to a 15 year old rave about their love of Monet and another how an illustration exhibition was confusing and the attendants creepy. I smile, and think they will both do the art world some good.
The past couple of weeks, I've been trying to get back in control of my schedule and still find some time for personal creativity and exploration outside of my time with students. I’ve found that the most achievable with sewing, which is easy to pick up and leave as my schedule requires. I find that sewing has similar meditative properties to throwing on a pottery wheel, but less messy and with less strain on my wrists. Spending time working on my sewing projects (right now, primarily a jumpsuit with a self made pattern) has allowed me to take some time for myself and unplug from work. As much as I enjoy most of my job, especially adventuring with students, it can be hard to remember that I'm a person beyond my job title. My goal for the next month is to continue to find balance, in making my work life fun and creative and maintaining that at home.
An Essay on Teaching, by Warwick
I don’t think I can call myself a teacher. I have taught things, sure, but I think that is different from being a teacher. I’ve had a lot of teachers in my life. They were all dedicated to their role, despite all of the struggles and lack of support teachers are often faced with (my fourth grade teacher made me swear to never go into teaching). They pushed me to work harder, do better, grow, all while supporting me in ways I often didn’t realize.
After my aunt died, I took some time off of school. Before I left town one of my professors brought me a home baked sweet potato pie, and told me to do whatever it was that I needed, that she would handle the fallout. When I returned, I found the simplest assignments completely overwhelming. I met with my professor, and told her I didn’t feel like I could complete the projects- I doubted my skills, was lacking in motivation, and was incredibly emotionally fragile. She managed to boost my self confidence and convince me to start working with such gentleness and subtlety it is difficult to put it into words. We talked through my technical questions and concerns as she sat with me in my studio and helped me with the mold I was working on without any sense of pity or judgment. We talked about the weather, New England, and she and my studio neighbor swapped small town sports stories. Slowly, I started to feel okay again.
However, kindness and empathy is only one part of teaching. This professor is also one of the most demanding instructors I’ve ever had. In a letter I wrote nominating her for an excellence in teaching award, I said “Her classes would not be a great fit for any student that’s just hoping for something easy, but for anyone interested in a thoughtful and intensive dive into the world of clay and/or socially engaged art will find that she will always go above and beyond.” I often joke that my favorite teachers are the ones that everyone else thinks are mean, but really, my favorite teachers are the ones that consistently push me hard and push themselves even harder. It is difficult for a student to take a teacher's expectations to heart if they don’t think the teacher is doing any work. Teaching is empathy, guidance, and leading by example.
I taught a short ceramics intensive in January. While this is not my first time teaching, it is my first time teaching a class of my own design. I spent hours on the syllabus, three different printed calendars spread across my desk as I rewrote the schedule over and over. On the first day of class, I finished everything I had prepared 30 minutes into the 90 minute class and proceeded to ramble about anything that flew into my head to kill time. After I finally dismissed the students early I went home and immediately wrote a back up activity for almost every day. We only had to use some of them, but having a written out just-in-case plan helped keep the random ramblings under control. I came to understand the frustration of students arriving late, as the awkward silence with every student staring at me while waiting for three more people felt as though it lasted years. I felt completely overwhelmed the first time we had an open work day and ten fifteen year-olds all needed something from me at the exact same time. I was once again reminded that for some reason, no one ever answers their email.
But, after the first day, at the end of every class I would stand alone in the open studio in stunned silence. I couldn’t believe how much time had passed so quickly, how completely enthralled in the class I was. While there, with my students, there was nothing else in the whole world. Come hell or high water, I was going to get these kids to finish their tiles. And they did. On the day of final critique, our last day of class, every student displayed a series of ceramic tile pieces that were interesting, thoughtful, and all completely different from any other student’s. I did my best to coach them through how to give helpful, constructive feedback and watched in amusement as they would dramatically spin around to reread what I wrote on the chalkboard before they spoke. Together, we worked to make the class silly and fun while still focused, some students using emojis to help make their point. At the end, while thanking them for all of their trust, bravery, and dedication, I felt the urge to cry. The class was over, and I wasn’t sure when I would have an opportunity like that again. I don’t think I can call myself a teacher, but I hope that someday I can (sorry Ms. Amanda, fourth graders can’t be held to their promises).
Thanks for Reading, See you March 31st!
Love,
The Birdhouse Collective