Walkabout. Smells Like Teen Art
“Would you like to be a judge for the upcoming Burlington County Teen Arts Festival?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied. I had no idea what I was getting myself into by answering as I did, or where that answer was going to take me. But I was about to find out.
After I retired from teaching art in Phoenix, I had the opportunity to jury several local student art shows as well as jury several art shows by senior citizens in Sun City and critiquing their work. It was fun, often I got a stipend, and except for the occasional romantic proposition from an elder female denizen of the Sun Dial Rec Center, fairly low key.
In New Jersey, I have had the opportunity to jury a local high school’s art show as well as that school’s district art show for high school students. Both events were wonderful and reminded me how much I had loved my job teaching art to young adults.
I arrived early Tuesday morning at Rowan College. I’m always early. Parking was easy because the college was on spring break. My event was in the large multi-levelled student center. I had learned earlier that my event was not just a single day of jurying a student art show but actually a three-day event. I would, along with another judge, not only evaluate and score the art work of 10 to 25 pieces of high school art work from each of 20 high schools but also evaluate and score the artwork from an equal number of middle schools. We would do that on day one. On day two I would meet with half of the middle schools and critique each piece and then do it for ten high schools on day three.
Okaaaaay. No turning back now. With pen, rubric, and clipboard in hand, for 5 straight hours I viewed, evaluated, and scored hundreds of pencil drawings, paintings, collages, 3-D sculptures, ceramics, self-portraits (mmm…interesting take on what a human being looks like!), watercolors, mixed media pieces, pieces that lit up, pieces made of recycled objects, a couple of nude drawings with nipples (mmm…prurient), birdhouses, pastels, class assignments, scratchboards, and a realistic ceramic plate of sushi. (For lunch I power slammed a hard boiled egg and a banana on a restroom break.)
There were no students present. Most of the artwork was hung appropriately, but since most work was not framed, teachers used ingenious ways to secure the artwork to the pegboard flats assigned to each school. Occasionally, the technique of glue gunning wire to the back of a heavy mixed media piece failed. We propped up the fallen pieces and moved on. Other jurors were evaluating graphic design and photography in their respective areas, but since there was so much art, it took us hours after everyone else left to evaluate all of our pieces. It was draining, but enlightening. I enjoyed it. It is obvious that with even a simple display of work, it is possible to evaluate not only a school’s commitment to a successful art program, but those teachers that are really hitting it. It was inspiring. I gained a new perspective on Glendale Union’s District show and on our portfolio evaluations. I also gained further empathy for middle school art teachers who, at least here, have such limited class time due to unique scheduling constraints.
Tuesday wrapped up. I went to bed at 9:30. Exhausted. Wednesday my task was to meet with each school and its students for 20 minutes and talk about each piece of art. Both floors of the student center were filled with middle schoolers. Little boys who looked like they were in 4th grade and towering Amazon women/girls who at times were indistinguishable in their dress and demeanor from their teachers.
Engage, share, be kind but honest. It is a tightrope I love to walk but it was difficult at times with younger students who aren’t as verbal. Four hours of moving from school to school, student to student, piece by piece. It worked me, but I was getting the hang of it. It was hard because so much of the work was young work and undeveloped. But it was a positive experience for me and I looked forward to the next day.
And there I was. Thursday morning. MY PEOPLE. I cannot express how at home it felt as the room filled with high school art students in all of their mishmash of preppy, jock, AP, nerdy, super nerdy, iconoclastic, cultural, and musical styles with bracelets, shoes, hair styles, glasses and cell phones to match. For over 4 hours I spent 30 minutes with each school interacting with all grade levels of art students from freshmen assigned to a class to AP students who had an undying need to share with me their AP concentrations, in detail. I was back at Moon Valley doing that dance I did for 30 years. It was one of the most exhilarating and meaningful experiences I have had in a long, long time. I loved the realness and honesty of these students and their work and my fond memories of my former students and their work.
I was exhausted at the end of the day. But amped by the experience. I was in that odd state of being tired but pumped up. Bathing in endorphins. Full of myself. I worked in my yard when I got home. Weather was beautiful. I had been given a gift today and I am appreciative beyond words.
I am still buzzing as I write this. I kept thinking to take photos but I would get distracted and I would forget. Pieces from each school will go to the county show. I will try to photograph pieces then.
I will leave you with these word images.
One of the best scratchboards I have ever seen of a mountain gorilla by a young lady, a senior, whose piece was her first attempt at the media.
A graphite spider by a middle schooler. The spider appeared alive.
A rendered pencil drawing of a self-portrait of a young woman, as good, as photographic, as any I had seen by a high school student.
Two animated animal sculptures, a giraffe and a silver fox, made from aluminum soda cans.
I kept coming back to a wonderful self-portrait of a young woman, an unabashedly honesty pencil drawing by a student who emigrated this year from Ghana.
And finally. I introduced myself to students at my last critique.
“Hi!” said the young man squished into a soft chair next to another student. They were practically on top of each other.
“Are you guys friends?” I asked
“Since pre-school!” He laughed.
“What do you think of my self-portrait?”
I struggled to make out a face in the smears and dabs of paint. I had seen better faces today, but none worse than this masterpiece. It was sloppy and seriously void of any positive comment. A double line of small silver sequins snaked across the area where a mouth should be.
“How do you like my mouth?” He asked.
“Is that a grill on what looks like…teeth?” I squinted and my eyes hurt.
“Yes, sir.” He said. “That’s why I titled it ‘JEWELZ.’”
“Clever,” I offered. “You can never go wrong adding a Z on the end of any word.”
“Right. Mr. Smithz.” He laughed.
“Exactly.” I replied.