Preparing for the Day of the Dead

The invitation in the mail read" Mambo Muerto!

"According to legend ... when the best benefit party of the year collides with
November 1, Day of the Dead, El Dia de los Muertos, the undying spirit of art
will rise to join the fun, and a spicy Latino celebration of the soul will ensue

... it's ¡Mambo Muerto! Shake the skeletons out of your closet and join us for SPACES' Annual Benefit & Silent Auction!"

SPACES gallery has been a supportive partner of the visual arts program at Max Hayes High School for several years, inviting our students to special viewings of gallery exhibitions and providing opportunities for the kids to meet and occasionally work with resident artists.

When I received an e-mail request for volunteers to help create decorations for their annual benefit, I immediately extended the invitation to the Art Club.

(click here for a Wikipedia link to "Day of the Dead")

I have never had such an enthusiastic group of artists in all of my years of teaching in the Cleveland schools. For many of these kids, late afternoons at home can be very boring, and so they relish the chance to socialize with their friends just as much as they enjoy the opportunity to create. The adventure of visiting a new place, combined with the promise of earning community service hours, provided plenty of incentive for six of the members to brave the rain, and walk the twenty blocks that separate the gallery from the school.

Danny and Jeff were the first to arrive, much to the delight of the SPACES staff. They were quickly put to work tracing a giant skeleton onto foam core board, and carefully cutting out the bones with Exacto knives.

Danny, a native of Mexico, entertained the group with stories of his own family's traditions as they celebrate the Day of the Dead. Later on he confided how cool it was that everyone seemed so interested in his ancestral customs. Usually he gets teased about his Mexican heritage.

Sarah, Cora, Deseraee, and Gabriel sloshed into the gallery about ten minutes after the first two boys. They were given several choices of tasks from "glitterizing" cardboard skulls, painting borders on table cloths, or hollowing out sugar skulls, to creating tissue paper carnations. They began with the flowers, then moved on to the glitter and paint. Before we knew it, the time had come to hurry back out to the bus stop. They were all invited to come back Wednesday and help build the traditional Dias del Muerto Fiesta altar.

"Can we?" Eager faces looked at me hopefully.

"Of course" I'd never dream of spoiling this kind of fun.

Unfortunately, Mother Nature is not such a good sport as I am. When we walked out the door the rain had turned to sleet.

Reflection among the Graves

I remember exploring an old country church cemetery in Hiram Township near my grandmother’s house, when I was a little girl. I was fascinated by the inscriptions on the headstones, and with the diligence of an archeologist, I examined the time worn markers, carefully deciphering the birth and death dates. I would work the equations in my head so that I could figure out the ages of the persons whose graves I tread upon. I would always feel so sad to discover the burial plot of a very young person or a child, imagining the grief of the family.
Even now, cemeteries still have an allure, and it is not unusual for me to stop and take a look around if I am driving by one, and I have a little time on my hands.
One of my favorites is the historic Lakeview Cemetery, which straddles the border of Cleveland and Cleveland Heights. It is the final resting place of many of the city’s most famous citizens, from President James Garfield and billionaire John D Rockefeller, to law man Elliot Ness and inventor Charles Brush.

In Lakeview Cemetery there are thousands of graves, each one representing the final page of a life story. Some graves are nearly anonymous, with a simple inscription of Mother, Father, or Infant. Others give the visitor a bit more; a name, birth and death dates, and occasionally, a verse from the Bible. My favorites are the elaborately carved monuments. Stained by acid rains and the polluted atmosphere of a city where fortunes were accrued in the steel mills and factories, figures of angels, saints and the deceased stare eternally at the landscape.
.

I can’t help but wonder about the people who sleep forever below the grass. Where they happy or miserable? Did their lives end with an illness, accident, or could they have been murdered? Who did they leave behind? Were they loved or lonely?
I can walk for miles here along the roads and pathways. Wandering between the headstones, I become cognizant of my own time on earth, and begin to contemplate the impact I’ve made so far.

Finger Painting: We go back to the Basics

"I want this group to be able to do things you don't normally do in your regular art classes."

I stood in the center of about ten students gathered in the art studio for the first organizational meeting of the Max Hayes Art Club.

"We can visit galleries and meet professional artists in their studios, we can experiment with different mediums, I have tons of ideas. How about you guys? What would you like to do?"

A short silence ensued while eyes scoured the room for inspiration.

"I want to finger-paint."

Smirking at the silliness, I shook my head. "C'mon now. Be serious."

My comment unleashed a torrent of teen-aged voices. "I want to finger-paint too!", "I never got a chance in kindergarten.", "It would be the most fun thing EVER!", "I love finger-painting!", "Pleeease, please, please, let us finger-paint!"

Wow! I hadn't seen so much adolescent enthusiasm for an activity that didn't involve food in a long, long time. It would be wrong to quash this kind of passion. So, setting aside my personal dislike for this kiddie-kraft, I capitulated.

"Okay then... next Thursday we will finger-paint."

My excited little group began to gather in the art room before the last class of the day was even over. A few stopped in to tell me they would be late, since other commitments needed their attention first, but to PLEASE make sure and save them some paint.

About ten years ago, I gratefully accepted a big box of art supplies from a friend who was retiring from teaching elementary school. In it were all kinds of craft items and paper tablets along with several dusty jars of finger paint. After sitting in my closet for a decade I hoped they had not dried out.

A table in the back of the room was cleared to make room for large paper, and I spooned out dishes of the colorful gel, slightly shrunken, but still usable.

Eager hands could hardly wait. It was time to get messy.

There is something both primal and decadent about finger paint. A lifetime of hand washing caused some reluctance to stick my own paws in the paint, but I forced myself to make the plunge. Although I smeared and scribbled a little with my fingers, I still could not cross that uncomfortable mental barrier of "ickyness", and after a few minutes, retreated to the sink.

The kids, however, happily experimented with color mixing and technique. Given complete creative freedom, images began to emerge. Landscapes, rainbows, monsters, and Halloween characters soon covered the tables.

As four o'clock neared, the inevitable question was raised;

"When are we going to do this again?"

Overheard

Overheard at a party last night:

Republican 1: I've voted Republican for the past 30 years, but this time I'm voting for Obama.

Republican 2: But he's BLACK!

Republican 1: I lost $40,000 this week. How much did you lose?

Republican 2: $38,000.

Republican 1: Think about it.

Marian Wright Edelman at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History

The auditorium was filling up quickly. "Darn!" I thought, "Too late to get an aisle seat..No, I think I see a few empty rows down near the stage." I hurried to throw my purse and jacket across two cushioned chairs, and once having staked my claim, flopped down to wait for the speaker to take the podium.

I'd been invited to the evening's reception by my friend, Susan Miller, to hear a presentation by Marian Wright Edelman, founder and president of the Children's Defense Fund and award winning author. Ms Edelman came to Cleveland this week to promote her latest book, The Sea is So Wide and My Boat is so Small - Charting a Course for the next Generation, and celebrate the opening of the Cleveland Museum of Natural History's new provocative exhibit, "Race-Are We so Different?", sponsored in part by the nonprofit organization, Facing History and Ourselves

Finally, after the representatives the event sponsors greeted the audience, the third speaker introduced Ms Edelman and called her to the stage. To my surprise, a little woman with elegantly coiffed salt and pepper hair who had been sitting quietly in front of me, stood up and walked to the microphone.

In a low voice of quiet authority, she began to read from her book. Her words grabbed the audience by our collective conscience:

"A poor black boy born in 2001 has a one in three chance of going to prison in his lifetime; a Latino boy a one in six chance; a black girl a one in seventeen chance; a white boy a one in seventeen chance; a Latina girl a one in forty-five chance; and a white girl a one in one hundred and eleven chance."
"Child poverty and neglect, racial disparities in systems that serve children, and the Cradle to Prison Pipeline are not acts of God. They are America's immoral political and economic choices that can and must be changed with strong political, corporate, and community leadership."

The audience of more than 400 people gasped, although I was not surprised. I have been familiar with many of these statistics for several years. I cannot count the number of times I have looked over my classroom full of inner-city students and sadly wondered, "What will eventually become of them? Which of these young faces will end up behind razor-wire? Will it really be ten out of the thirty? How do we put a stop to this insanity?"

Every point she made so eloquently were themes I'd also written about over the years. It was very encouraging to hear the message repeated in a public forum large enough to have an impact. She has done the research, assembled the facts, and reached conclusions one could only arrive at if one has been not only a careful observer, but has fully experienced life in it's many facets. A smile, borne of recognizing a kindred thinker, spread across my face.

Each chapter of her book was addressed to a different audience. To the educators she wrote:

"If we want to assess the status of America's future competitiveness, national
security, and democratic health, one need only stop at the school doors through
which millions of ill-prepared students pour every day.
What do we do?
Educators need to remember what their mission is: educating children. Those
who use public schools as political patronage and job security rather than as
child learning and development sites need to be confronted and ousted. Old
interests and ways of doing business need to give way so that children's futures
can be protected. While there are many wonderful teachers and schools all over
the country, there are very few whole school systems where all children are
achieving well."

Ms Edelman reprimanded schools who implement zero-tolerance discipline policies for non-violent behavior, calling them feeder systems for the prison industry. She also spent some time chiding individual educators who don't love (or even like) children, advising them to get out of teaching. Worst of all, she warned, are those who seek to line their own pockets at the expense of innocent children. She brilliantly coined the term "affluenza" to describe the apathetic culture of the 'haves' and their deliberate avoidance of the 'have-nots'.

Every person in the audience received a copy of her new book, and of course mine is already digested, highlighted, and annotated.

I think I have discovered a new favorite author.

Afternoon at the Zoo

It was one of those weekends that happen every now and again, where you say “We should do something…but what?”
On such occasions I like to play tourist, grab the camera, and explore Cleveland by the guide book. There are so many interesting things to do in this city.
“How about the zoo?” Tom offered.
“Wow, I haven’t been there for a long time. When was the last time you went to the zoo?” I asked.
He rubbed the goatee on his chin and thoughtfully answered, “I think it’s been about thirty years.”

It was a perfect zoo day. A mid-morning drizzle insured light attendance for this early autumn Sunday. The sky was a little overcast, and the cooler temperatures meant the animals would be a bit more active than they are on hot, sunny afternoons. Cleveland Metro Parks Zoo is truly a beautiful place to wander. The landscaping is lovely, and the exhibits are well planned, and quite informative.
Young parents pushed strollers and herded children along the pathways, stopping at each pen to roar, squeal, or whistle relentlessly, trying to get the creature to pay attention. Usually the animals ignored the obnoxious humans, some hiding in the corners of their enclaves, noses to the wall.
Zoos always make me a little sad.

I know, I know… many of the animals are endangered, and their chances for survival and procreation in the wild are shaky in this day and age of climate change, environmental poisoning, and the encroachment of man. But to see these noble beasts confined to such tight quarters, pacing back and forth, like frustrated claustrophobics; it tore at my sympathetic soul.

The silverback gorillas were the most heart-breaking of all. Their faces, so close to human, looked almost annoyed as they stared through the thick partition at the visitors who pressed their noses to the super strong Plexiglas. Innocent prisoners, on display for our entertainment, they sit hour after hour on concrete ledges designed to simulate the rocky terrain of a mountain habitat.

I wondered if they ever dream of freedom.

Shop Talk

"When you're making chips, you're making money."

That's the mantra of the machine shop, and Cleveland area component manufacturers have been filling up the chip bins.

Surprised? Cleveland has been bleeding manufacturing jobs for years, high labor rates in the states, and free trade legislation have decimated the industry, right?

Well...yes....but...

The first rule of entreprenuership: misfortune for some means opportunity for others.

As component manufacturing began moving offshore to take advantage of the incredibly low labor rates, many local business owners threw up their hands and closed up their shops, saying, "We just can't compete."

The remaining die-hard companies asked the question, "How do we become more efficient?"

By taking advantage of new technology and automation, smart manufacturers were able to not only decrease labor costs, but dramatically increase production. Not only were they able to keep work here, but some jobs were even brought BACK from overseas factories. With less local competition, many of these businesses find themselves in the enviable position of needing to expand their operations.

Alas, every silver lining has a cloud. Automation requires highly skilled technicians, adept at math and computer programming. Employers who invested in education for their workers were able to survive. The problem now is some of these folks would like to retire, but there aren't enough young people to take their places. Companies are poaching technicians from each other.

I understand there may be a whole lot of folks in the banking and finance industry who will be back in the job market soon. I'm thinking they should look to the manufacturing sector for retraining. We could really use them.

Artist Market at St Josaphat Hall

This morning I stopped by St Josaphat Hall on East 33rd street to preview the first annual Sparx in the City Artist Market, sponsored by Convivium 33 Gallery owner, Alenka Banco.

Artists do indeed accumulate wonderful things, and this eclectic sale showcases the treasured hoards of a number of creative Clevelanders who are willing to part with their collections of tchotchkes, antiques, and furniture at bargain prices.

Make sure you schedule a stop at the Artist Market this weekend as you check out the rest of the galleries and artist studios during the Sparx Gallery Hop.

THE ARTISTS' MARKET
September 20-21, 2008(Sparx in the City Weekend) from 10am-5pm
Artists have the coolest junk/stuff!
Convivium33 Gallery at Josaphat Arts Hall has invited artists to sell their wears/wares during Cleveland's Sparx in the City Weekend.
On Saturday, September 20 and Sunday, September 21, 2008.
The naive at Josaphat's will become the Artists' Market.
Doors open at 10am with early admittance at 8:30am to dealers/public for a $5.00 donation.
(100% of admittance fee will go to to support the Art Department at: Max S. Hayes High School/Cleveland Metropolitan School District)
No admittance fee during regular hours from 10am-5pm.
So...whether you are looking for art, clothing, furniture, etc. it should be fun!
Cool Junk, Cool Neighborhood- The Quarter!
For additional information: vendor Please email convivium33@josaphatartshall.comor alenkabanco@sbcglobal.net

Teaching Conceptual Art

"Anyone here an artist?" I ask. A few hands go up.

"Anyone here who would rather be taking a different class?"A few hands go up again.

"Who thinks the class could be cool, but are not sure if you'll be any good at it?" Almost all the hands go up."

"Now that's encouraging." I smile.

Most high school visual art programs are elective courses, offering a traditional arts foundation curriculum. The kids who sign up for the classes have an interest in drawing, painting, sculpture, printing, or photography.

Because Max Hayes is an industrial trades school, many of the students I teach come into my class with no desire to become artists, and even less desire to make art. You see, all students must have 1 fine arts credit to graduate in the state of Ohio, and I am the only arts teacher in the building - no music, dance, or drama here. In order to make art relevant to the kids studying auto tech, construction, or machining, I've learned to take a very different approach to the arts curriculum. I focus on art as concept, and the artist as communicator and visual problem solver.

This year, I began my course with a poem by the artist who created Cleveland's "Free Stamp", Claes Oldenburg. The poem, titled simply "Statement" , is a long reflection on the idea of art as concept.
It begins:

"I am for an art that is political-erotical-mystical, that does something other
than sit on its ass in a museum.

I am for an art that grows up not knowing it is art at all, an art given the chance of having a starting point of zero.

I am for an art that embroils itself with the everyday crap and still comes out on top.

I am or an art that imitates the human, that is comic, if necessary, or violent, or
whatever is necessary.

I am for an art that takes its form from the lines of life itself, that twists and extends and accumulates and spits and drips, and is heavy and coarse and blunt and sweet and stupid as life itself.

I am for an artist who vanishes, turning up in a white cap painting signs or hallways.

I am for an art that comes out of a chimney like black hair and scatters in the sky..."

After looking at more prints of Oldenburg's sculptures, depicting everyday objects treated as icons and transformed into monuments, I asked the students to come up with a few "I am for art..." sentences of their own. Here are some examples:

"I am for art that fools a mosquito into the light, but is betrayed and hits the earth like a comet."

"I am for art that makes a fat lady seem small when she smiles."

"I am for art that has no thought nor expression, free of emotion, yet little discretion."

"I am for artists who sit in the dark and paint."

"I am for the art of monsters in my closet and secrets hidden under the bed."

"I am for art that grinds through life on a skate board, and I ain't talkin' lupe fiasco."

"I am for art that tickles my skin."

"I am for art that claims my life story through powerful words of my poetry."

"I am for the art of love between 2 teens whose love is doubted by parents."

"I am for art that is 'hood."

"I am for art that helps old ladies cross the street."

"I am for art that doesn't exist."

"I am for art that makes you think"

Hm-mm...I'm thinking, they "get it".

I'm forever fascinated by the number of kids who are eager to share their poetry with me. Once they know I'm interested, the old spiral bound notebooks and scraps of lined paper filled with verse are retrieved from closets and under beds and timidly placed in my hands in between classes. Teenage love songs, family tragedies, neighborhood violence, and tales of adolescent angst, I read them all without criticism. One young machinist even asked if he could bring his guitar to school and play for us, while the class illustrated their statements on long strips of donated, factory remnant, poster-board.

"Of course!" And so after many months of practice he finally had an audience.

I am for an art that gives the soul a voice.

An advocate of experiential learning, I like to take advantage of Cleveland's vibrant arts community and bring working artists into the school, take my students out to explore urban galleries, view public art in our neighborhood, and visit local artists in their studios. Last week, I took a group of kids to the Rock Hall for a presentation on Woodstock and album cover art, stopping by Claes Oldenburg's Free Stamp along the way. Next week we are going to SPACES gallery to view the "Bilingual" show and meet Cleveland painter Michelangelo Lovelace.

Our school is fortunate to be located on an RTA main route, so close to downtown. We can go all kinds of places for the price of a bus ticket.

I believe my students need to experience art beyond the walls of my classroom. If what they learn about art while they are in high school is confined to a few school projects, they will have a very limited education indeed.

Summer Project: 1965 VW Beetle - Part 9

Take a look at these before and after pictures. Two months ago, Barney was nothing but a dangerous rust-bucket with gaping holes in the floor and a body slowly succumbing to the inevitable corrosion that results from driving the salted streets of the snowy Mid-west.

The Optimist was certain the Beetle would be on the road by the end of August...make that September...well, October for sure. Hey, I still think this bad-boy has come a long way in a short time, considering it has been a project delegated to spare-moment status.

The doors are finally on, and Tom has been sanding and smoothing the surface this week, getting ready for the first coat of primer.

Of course, the fenders still haven't arrived yet, the dealer has them back-ordered, but the bug is masked off and ready to be painted.

Hurry up... and wait. That's our mantra.

To be continued...

Bad Behavior

The red truck suddenly swerved into my lane, as I sat patiently waiting for the line of oncoming traffic to pass so I could make my left hand turn.

My eyes opened wide at the imminent impact. But before I gasped, I could see the driver laughing at my startled expression and he quickly returned to his side of the street.

"Damn!"

I looked in my rear-view mirror, and saw the man craning his neck to look back at me, alone in the cab, shoulders shaking with laughter and a sadistic grin stretched across his face.

"That is one sick human being." I thought as I made my turn and continued toward home

Over the course of my career, I've worked with many young people who suffered with emotional and behavioral disorders, as well as severe mental illnesses. These kids struggle daily with the chemical imbalances that play havoc on their brains. Fortunately, we live in a day and age of medical miracles, and many of these students find balance with the proper medication.

Teachers who work in schools having significant populations of children who are diagnosed with these types of disorders, become quite adept at determining which behaviors are merely symptoms of their condition and, while disruptive, can be tolerated with sympathy, and which manifestations call for removal of the student. Wisdom as well as discernment come with experience. Over the years, I notice I've become a far more patient teacher than I was as a rookie, especially when it comes to kids who can't focus, or have energy levels that range from extremely low, to obnoxiously high. I've learned to roll, in a manner of speaking. When I make a conscious effort not to get upset, I find I am a much happier person.

Last week a colleague shared an experience he had that morning as he walked into the school office, and a student deliberately stuck out his foot in an attempt to make the teacher trip.

"My immediate reaction was anger," he confided, " but when I looked at the boys face, I could tell there was something wrong with the young man mentally, and suddenly my anger became compassion. I could only feel sorry for him, because at some point, he must have seen a comedy where a person was tripped, and all he could think of was that tripping somebody is funny. "

This man is a new, second career teacher, and I smiled, thinking how lucky we are to have added such a talented, thoughtful, and kind member to our faculty.

Tolerance should have it's limits though. Where I personally draw the line is with the true sociopaths. These are people who have absolutely no regard for the feelings of others - the bullies. I meet a few of them every year in my classroom; just plain mean kids who find entertainment in the misery and humiliation of their chosen victims. They are usually not students who have been diagnosed with special needs. In fact, most of these kids (girls as well as boys) are normal, even bright. The seemingly innate cruelty baffles me. I often find myself wondering how these personalities develop. Do they also suffer from some chemical quirkiness, or are their attitudes a reflection of their home lives?

Unfortunately, school house bullies grow up to become adult sociopaths. Sometimes, a few years down the road I will read their names in the crime section of the metro pages. However, most of the time they refine their bullying and quietly become our neighbors, have families, and get jobs.

And sometimes they buy red trucks and terrorize women stopped at traffic lights.

Summer Project - 1965 VW Beetle: Part 8

Finally! Another update for you Beetle maniacs.

The day Tom drove the little blue bug home, I called the car a "Flintstone mobile" since there were holes in the floor-pan so huge one could literally drop their feet through and skid on the road, just like Fred and Barney did in Bedrock when they put on the "brakes". Of course, that was the day I named the Volkswagen "Barney".

Well, now take a look at that nice solid bottom. It's been coated and re-coated, and coated a few more times with Rustoleum. Winters here in the rust belt can be rough on sheet metal.

Speaking of paint. The underside of the Beetle body is sporting a fresh new coat of Sea Blue. The color is much prettier than I could imagine when I first saw the faded blue bug sitting in that weedy back lot in a couple months ago. Every inch of this car will be repainted. After all this effort to restore the little guy, we want him to last.

Hooray!

The last bolt gets tightened, and the body is back on the chassis. To our great relief, it fits. Even The Optimist was a little nervous about things lining up just right after removing the old heater channels, but it looks like the braces he welded in did the trick. Barney's got his wheels back.

I had to leave right after this momentous event, but I hear the doors are reattached, the steering is working and the fenders have been ordered. It looks like Barney's next photo shoot will be of a car instead of a carcass.

Sparx in the City Artist Market to benefit Max Hayes Art Deparment

Many thanks to Alenka Banco for her generous effort to support arts education at Max S. Hayes High School.

Tour the Cleveland art scene during the Sparx in the City gallery hop next weekend. Whether you ride Lolly the Trolly or make your own agenda, please come check out the gorgeous Convivium 33 Gallery and do a bit of treasure hunting at the St. Josaphat Hall Artists' Market.

THE ARTISTS' MARKET

September 20-21, 2008
(Sparx in the City Weekend) from 10am-5pm

Artists have the coolest junk/stuff!

Convivium33 Gallery at Josaphat Arts Hall has invited artists to sell their wears/wares during Cleveland's Sparx in the City Weekend.

On Saturday, September 20 and Sunday, September 21, 2008.

The naive at Josaphat's will become the Artists' Market.

Doors open at 10am with early admittance at 8:30am to dealers/public for a $5.00 donation.

(100% of admittance fee will go to to support the Art Department at: Max S. Hayes High School/Cleveland Metropolitan School District)

No admittance fee during regular hours from 10am-5pm.

So...whether you are looking for art, clothing, furniture, etc. it should be fun!

Cool Junk, Cool Neighborhood- The Quarter!

For additional information: vendor Please email convivium33@josaphatartshall.com
or alenkabanco@sbcglobal.net