October 14, 2022

The leaves are fermenting now. It smells sour. I like it. The smell, and the color of the afternoon light, and my cheeks going rosy and getting a little chapped; I like it. It’s complicated, but overall I like it.

This time of year is the beginning of the year, in my mind. Everyone in my family is either a teacher or a student. I’ve done both, and I’m trying to decide how I fit in. I like learning more than teaching, but there’s more discussion in teaching so it’s more stimulating, though occasionally redundant or hollow (Aren’t we all?). A middle school conversation is hardly redundant and never hollow. Generally, though, it’s nice to know that everyone who is teaching has some kind of charisma, if not a passion for the labor or subject.

During the time I was learning to be an art educator, we used to talk about “making meaning”. If memory serves, it was held as an esteemed criteria; a lesson plan that “made meaning” was very highly regarded. My friend/colleague and I used to joke about what making meaning means. Certainly, ideally, every teacher wants to “make meaning”, but this utopian goal cannot be what also defines the labor or craft systems, and philosophies, of quality teaching. “Making meaning” sounds like what Tom Waites called “miracles” in the movie “Wristcutters: a love story”. Imagine the creation of angels, and the twinkle of a bell ringing every time you understand. We were so dramatic, with all our essential questions.

In terms of helping others make art things, meaning seems to exist in the moment when the idea of the thing being made registers and suddenly makes sense. All the pieces fit, and the image is effective, and you see the whole image at once. It’s the fulfillment of doing the thing. Generally, this looks like something clever and elegant— a little black dress, but also (the feeling of really) wearing it. The difference between a little, black dress and my little, black dress is that one of them is mine. My little, black dress fits only me with the same kind of “je ne sais crois” every time, and that means something. Making meaning with things is when form and function exist simultaneously and in balanced harmony. Most artists will claim this to be the goal of every work of art they make. Every artist hopes they’re creating the new wheel. Achievement is why being an artist is worth it. Diederich Diederichsen says this is known as mehrwert, or in English, it’s “payoff”. It is the added value— the sense of fulfillment. Mehrwert is meaning, and every work of art being made has this intention. In the studio classroom, however, the mehrwert comes at whatever cost the uphill battle demands, so that a learning artist walks away with a sense of feeling the experience of coming to an understanding was worth it.

What is worth it? What is worth it— what makes the life of things worth it? What makes remembering things, and teaching about things, and telling the stories of things…what makes a legacy worth maintaining? Every lesson in a studio classroom is attached to a legacy of a thing, because that is what happens in an art studio. Artists make things, no matter how esoteric they may be with their “content”. In essence, educators are asked to maintain the legacy of things, and to bring students’ attention to a specific history of things in hopes they convince their students that understanding is worth it. Educators are tasked with determining how young minds carry on aspects of our culture through the metaphor of things.

As most of the currently available K-12 teaching positions require applicants to have a master’s degree, it is fair to say that we can assume most current educators are trained and skilled in approaching this task; the role of cultural mentor, remembering for us like “The Giver”. Learning to be like, or to think like, an educator— learning to make meaning with finesse— it can be very good for the soul. One of the ways I do it is by always thinking of “the third teacher”. This is a concept from the Reggio Emilia Approach, an art education philosophy. The third teacher is the classroom, or simply, the room. I consider space and place all the time, wherever I go. Every color, material, placement, it is all looked at, thought about, and played out to know if the room feels right. By feels right, I mean, gives specifically balanced vibes via specific art and design choices. Working with “vibes” in the Art World right now is like claiming to be the Harry Styles of Tarot Reading, by the way. It’s so hot right now. There is always a proverbial angle of repose for the way a space becomes a place, and intuiting (don’t we all love an intuitive Artist— don’t worry, we’re in good company) that angle is actually a trainable skill. This is also known as Relational Aesthetics, and it’s so hot right now.

I like seeing design choices, especially if they’re for surface decoration, that consider provoking joy in addition to a manual action (most meaningful things are for some kind of interactive function). Making a clever art thing is not easy. Invention is (ideally) born of necessity, and what we need changes from person to person. Some people need electricity, some people need to choose which recessed lighting style is “best”. The idea of what’s “best” is never agreed upon either— there’s no such thing. There is such a thing as a well designed, and well functioning thing. Things can be small like a soda can tab, or large like a whole room (like a classroom), or permanent like… or ephemeral, like the everything. Like that pin wheel I saw a few weeks ago— pin wheels are things that consider critical and creative design choices for provoking manual actions and joy. Ideally it might spin itself, but because of understanding air and wind and motion, we get the fulfillment of getting the pinwheel to spin ourselves. It’s not the most current technology, but it was beautiful. That’s a meaningful thing, and they are of the most important because meaningful things are residual from a moment that is made meaningful. Not every moment is meaningful. What makes a moment meaningful is fulfillment. A meaningful moment exists within a life lived in line with strong values.

We are all our own educators, students, institutions, Givers— we are all in need of making meaning. This is why I mention joy. People do not learn well, and they certainly do not want to learn when they do not have joy. Without learning, there is rarely any meaning. Without meaning, there is rarely any legacy. A legacy, remembering, and continuing; is worth it. Rarely is it helpful to live in the past, but there is a payoff in honoring the past. Let’s honor the past beautifully. Let’s make beautiful observations, and wonder beautiful thoughts, and have beautiful conversations about well designed art things that make us excited for today.

Happy New Year :)

Also, I dropped a gold bull charm down my drain, and until I get it out, I occasionally like to relish in the true statement that “there is a gold bull in my bathroom sink”.