Cumulative Exhaustion

It’s reached that point in the semester when I’m so tired I can’t remember what day it is or where I’m supposed to be without looking at my Palm, which is currently lost. I can’t recall when I’ve been more exhausted, except, of course, living with a newborn.
When you feel this deep kind of exhaustion you start to make mistakes. You begin to ignore phone calls, misplace things, forget deadlines, accidentally lock yourself out of the house or crash your car a bit (yep… I’m ignoring this at the moment). You zone out in front of the computer. You get mad if the dean’s secretary looks at you cross-eyed (respect!) You let things go. The trick is to let the right things go…
I have to prepare, give and grade four exams in the next three weeks; my students were saucer-eyed today during a review. That’s about 300 tests to read. Then I have to do final grades, calculating each mathematically, and fill in the endless paperwork.
But, happy light through the Pantheon oculus, I may have a vacation coming… and someone sent me a poem… and a student said she liked my class and how did I keep in shape… ;)

Transgender Children

Today on NPR there was a story that profoundly upset me. It was about two little boys, one on each coast, both of whom may be transgender (boys physically, but girls mentally and emotionally). You should listen to it.
Here’s a synopsis:
Each boy from about age two began to play with girl toys and associate with girls rather than boys. Their respective parents initially permitted this behavior, but eventually sought professional advice on how to handle their unique situations.
The West Coast family found a therapist who allowed the child to wear dresses and play with dolls because the child insisted he was a girl. The mother described the day she drove the child to Target to buy his first real dress as the happiest she has ever seen him. This family now has a well-adjusted six-year-old, whom they refer to as a girl.
The East Coast family found a therapist who recommended the child be treated as a boy. The parents slowly took away all girl toys and only allowed association with boys. The mother described how she began to find Barbies hidden in the couch as the child realized what was happening. And when the girlish things were all gone, this child simply stopped playing. This breaks my heart.
He only drew. And what did he draw? Rainbows and butterflies and girls. When asked to draw a "boy," he said, “I don’t know how.” For me this brings home how primal drawing is, how I should respect each of my student’s innate skills and vision.
This child is having problems, as you may have guessed. The mother describes how he is currently traumatized by pink. I sincerely hope these parents have a change of heart, because color should certainly not bring pain.
What do I take away from this stunning story? To accept and respect my kids’ unique attributes. To be thankful they seem to have an easier road ahead of them at this point. To allow boys to play with me, because Bratz are not just for girls.

Ritual Diner

Last month I attended a couple Passover Seders, like I’ve done for many years. The difference this time was that I’m studying Ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome, and know more about the traditions referred to in the Jewish Seder. The dinner, which can last several hours and involve ritual storytelling, lecturing, poetry, prayer, copious laughter and wine drinking, feels very Roman to me.
It’s a way of eating the Turks also enjoy, especially with mezes (appetizers). You might sit for long hours at a table, in no hurry, eating small bits in a prescribed order, then finishing with tea and smoking. Italians and Spaniards also dine this way, very slowly.
Now I should talk, cause in the past few months I’ve developed the habit of taking many of my hurried, small meals standing up in the kitchen at odd hours, sometimes serving others, sometimes reading art history over the counter. I don’t even consider them meals. Because I eat so little in general, it’s not a problem, but at least once a week I’d like to enjoy one of these long ritual dinners, in the middle of the afternoon, when the air is still and hot, with spicy red wine, oily salads, meats, cheeses and good chewy bread, conversation or reading material...

No Self Control

Oh, bad Baby Kloe, very bad!
But, Baby is happy with some things lately (be careful)…

492…

A BIG milestone is coming up for Kloe Among the Turks.

Painting for Money

I’m getting ready to send a couple dozen small gouache paintings to my gallery in Ankara. All this time they have been selling my work to Turkish collectors. A small sum of money is waiting for me; I’ll plow that back into matting and framing the new paintings to keep the relationship alive. A friend who is traveling back to Turkey will hopefully carry the work with her.
My gallerist, a smart guy with years of experience, told me the small nudes are my bread and butter. He thinks that all the other experimental stuff (including this blog) is just that, and only feeds what I do best, the expressive, a-la-prima figure work.
Soon I’ll post some of my tamer, newer work on my Art of Kloe blog, so let me know what you think.

May Day Thoughts on Labor

Money is tight around here. I can definitely see increases in grocery bills (yesterday stood in the grocery aisle, stupidly agonizing over buying a frivolous item my son wanted), and of course at the gas station, where I’ve had to pay above $4/gallon several times already. As a freeway flyer, it’s painful; I can’t drive less, and must fill my tank about every five days.
So I think about which of my teaching jobs are worth keeping. The one that pays best is the one in which the teacher’s union is strongest. Where the unions are weak or don’t exist, teachers, both part- and full-time, are underpaid. Teaching college is a highly skilled job, and we don’t work 40 paid hours per week; we deserve a high hourly.
There are labor marches around SoCal today. Mostly they’re about immigrants’ rights, but I hope people understand the broader need for solidarity among the work force at all levels. Things are going to get worse this summer, hopefully forcing the presidential campaigns to address issues of poverty and stress on the average American worker.

You are Your Avatar

I heard about this study on NPR in which a group of scientists have deduced that if you choose an “attractive” avatar through which to live your online life, your real life will be influenced, and you’ll start to think of yourself as more attractive. You will lose weight, you will choose cuter friends, you will be more social, etc. You will become more like your online self.
Sort of strikes home for me. Did I choose Kloe because she is me? Am I her? I am blond and blue-eyed, and that’s why I chose Chloe/Angel, and not Jasmine or one of the other Bratz (ALL of whom I think are sweet; sorry, I just love Bratz). I have a sort of Bratty figure too. Have I become more like her, or was she always there, a sort of sassy girl hiding behind my Waspish background?
What if I’d decided to use a Cabbage Patch doll instead (shudder the thought)? Would I have ended up on a farm in the Midwest, quilting and riding tractors? Would I not have this fetish for very high heels and baring my metaphorical mid-drift?
Anybody had a similar experience?

The Compost Saga

So you may remember I had a bit of a problem with my compost. In that it wasn’t properly cooking and so gathering lots of small flies. I closed it up in a black trashbag a month ago and started a new compost trashcan (still awaiting my worm bin).
A few days ago I dared to open up compost #1 to turn it, and wow, it’s turning into black soil already. I’m thrilled. I just love getting something out of the scraps I would have had to throw away.
But…
Now compost #2 is also gathering flies. I just pulled out all my flowering herbs and greens, threw them back into my compost, and will get some new starts. Have already put in my first tomatoes (photo is toms from last season). But the flies, ugh. Am getting screens in two weeks…

Fallen in Love with a Neighborhood

Since returning from Turkey I’ve felt ambivalent about living here in SoCal. I’ve realized I hate the suburbs. I’m a city girl, at least at this point in my life. City or country, but not the burbs. I’ve missed being able to walk to work, to the store, or to get coffee, like I could in Turkey. I need to have more contact with the arty crowd that understands me, not the conservative SoCalians who live around me and are sometimes horrified by my work. But I currently reside in a lovely place, where 99.99% of the world’s population would die to live. (I am not joking, it’s like paradise here.)
So what’s to do? My fantasy is to get an artist studio in this neighborhood I have fallen in love with. This hood is just that: ratty, a bit dangerous, and urban. But it has possibilities, a raw hipness, a risk involved. It is not Disneyland on the water.

Stalled but Not Beaten

Around the New Year I ceased to think of academia as a career option. I’ve now been out of grad school for seven years, had numerous call-back interviews for positions, a Fulbright, and am no closer to landing a tenure-track job. Arnie has killed public ed here anyway. And I’m getting older. Time to stop messing around.
So I decided to start a design business. And was promptly swamped teaching two lecture classes to 150 students, unable to proceed with my freelance plans. But the end is in sight, only one more month of madness and then summer is here. Yes, I’m teaching summer school with any luck. But I’ll be able to again focus on getting some clients and building a portfolio. Also continuing to paint and promote my own work, of course.
Then I’ve got this other thing in the back of my mind, tickling me. It’s good to let go the idea that teaching is the only or best way for me. A friend on the other coast is making the same decision…

Intelligence Counts

The other day I was talking with someone, and mentioned the last time I had done such-and-such I was in Istanbul. There was a beat of silence. And then he said, where is Istanbul?
He was a computer engineer.

Turkish Bratz

I know you liked that last Turkish Pop video so much, I decided to share another one…
It's fascinating to me to observe how Western ideas of feminine beauty and sexiness have been co-opted by Turkish culture. Observing Gulsen I see so many Turkisms: the was she cocks her head, the movement of her hands, her perfect hair and flawless, heavy make-up. But then she adopts hip grinding moves and Daisy Mae shorts that she can't quite pull off; there is a reserve there from raunchiness. That the languid singer knocks out a Western looking hunk is also pretty interesting, given the preponderance of violence against women in Turkey...
But you know I only present the classiest stuff on my blog!
kisses

Once a Child, Always…

Ran into one of my grandmother’s friends today. The very day I was visiting the cemetery for the first time since her death (brought pink bougainvillea, she would have liked that).
The friend said she didn’t need to ask about how I am, she’s reading this blog. Gulp.
And she noticed the F-word. Double gulp.
And that my gram would not approve and that Kloe, as a Bratz, doesn’t talk that way.
Like my gram was haranguing me from the grave…
Sigh.
I just have to slow down.

Yemek

Found a local market that stocks Middle Eastern products and produce. I knew I might be in heaven when I saw an entire aisle of olives and olive oil. Here’s some stuff I gleefully threw in my basket:
Helva
Turkish cay (black tea)
Tahini
Black olives (douse with thyme and olive oil)
Quince
Dut (dried mulberries)
Pomegranate syrup (for salad dressings and drinks)
Bulgarian feta (to go with the olives)
Ulker Halley cookies
Unfortunately, no Turkish chocolate, but that might be wishing for the moon…

Happy Passover

I had an intellectually stimulating conversation over matzah, wine, and brisket with several post-grads and Jewish expats. There is nothing better than beautiful, smart people arguing. Makes me have hope in the future.
Some were in San Francisco for the Olympic torch debacle; as I had heard from other contacts, the situation was extremely explosive. We all agreed that the Olympics has never been primarily about athletes, but about politics. Religion + politics, and it turned us all on...
And yes, another year is upon me, thanks for the bday wishes from my lovely friends.
Kisses.

Relentless

Oh, this art history is killing me. Please, if you’re considering teaching it as a studio artist, reconsider. Because:
1. You read the 20lb text book.
2. You enter notes on the 30-50 slides per chapter in Powerpoint.
3. Then you have to read a secondary source to get other info the students expect (fact: a college teacher must know more than her students).
4. You read notes from an expert (an art historian friend of mine).
5. Every 3-4 weeks you give a test to your 70 students that takes DAYS to grade.
So you’re paid for only three hours of teaching, none of the prep or grading, which adds about 15-20 hours per week.
I’m counting the days til this semester is finished.

All of my Main Food Groups

After that serious post of yesterday, in which the event continues to upset me on so many levels I can barely think straight, I need to talk about something light. So here’s me in Heaven: solid bittersweet chocolate and bread in the same food. Eat with either strong coffee or sweet wine. Keeps you young.
Am also being seduced by some new music: Air and Beirut. Thanks, S.M!

Bad PR for Turkey and the Arts

A friend in My Anatolian City just alerted me to a recent tragedy, which is also very bad for her nation's image in the Art World. Pippa Bacca, an Italian performance artist, was raped and murdered in Turkey, supposedly by a Turkish man. She, with a group of other women artists, was hitch-hiking from Europe to Israel/Palestine for “World Peace” wearing a wedding dress. Her action signified her basic trust in the goodness of fellow humans.
I hope Turkish artists will respond to this awful event.
As you may know, I have opinions on the way women are treated (often with violence), and how sexuality is handled, in Turkey. To make broad generalizations, especially from conservative, violent American culture, is dangerous. But… here goes: sex and sexual violence are big problems in Turkey. Women are taught to hate sex, and men are taught to marry virgins, and take “whores” on the side. So obviously women are screwed either way. Sorry for the strong words, and I know our own culture also has complex codes for sexuality, but I feel there is so much sexual frustration in Turkey that things must change, somehow.

The 2 main things that I feel I missing in my life are:

1. Financial stability-- it causes me lots of stress at times, but I'm learning not to let it bother me
2. A support system--- I really miss being near my family & close friends. I feel it's very hard to really connect with people in CA (at least for me)
Oh- I do remember losing a black leather jacket that I loved years ago when someone borrowed it & lost it. It still bugs me a little when I think about it.
I guess the obvious thing to hope to find in the Middle East would be peace, but unfortunately I don't think that will happen. As far as Turkey goes, I would settle for one of those embroidered throws, some beyaz penir, that fabulous green melon & some raki :)
(from a friend of Kloe who was with her in Turkey; dark house image by beginning drawing student)

Candy, Baby

Kid.01 has just informed me how to eat a KitKat bar. With the wrapper on. Why, I ask him? Because you chew, and chew, and chew, and it slows you down.
He also believes Nerds are made of real rock, softened.

Response Quote

I had to go into my grandmother’s house again, for the first time in five months. Took cashmere skirts and hand-knitted cardigans, dead plants in pots, soccer balls, depressing detritus.
I was pressed into accepting a small bulletin board from the garage pinned mostly with xeroxed cartoons. But cut out carefully was this quote:

Of all tyrannies, a tyranny exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It may be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron’s cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point to satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end, for they do it with the approval of their consciences.

C.S. Lewis

Small Comment

Today, after an endless review of Greek and Roman slides in preparation for a my next test, a student laughingly said told me I wasn’t her favorite teacher anymore. I wonder if she knows how much that means to me?

The Failed Artist

I was at a dinner party a while ago, sitting next to a magazine editor. She was interested in my year abroad as an artist, and told me that her ex was a “failed artist.” Meaning, she explained, he’d made it to 60 and never achieved the success he’d hoped. Awful, but let’s not mince words, most of us artists will end up like this.
I wonder if this editor had given her former mate this moniker, or had he labeled himself? It takes so long before we can say we are “Artists” (it’s a role we feel we have to earn, somehow). And then what do we have, 20 years to make it? 30? And what makes us a success? Selling? Gallery representation? Small regional museum show? Tenure track position in academia? Respect from our peers? Not starving? If we earn a modicum of fame, must we maintain it?
And what does it mean to say the father of your children (cause she had grown kids) is Failed? That she was a success? That she had chosen to be responsible, a business woman, while he had chased dreams unsuccessfully? The whole thing smelled, like being with someone who drops names or flouts toys.

Gentrification, Turkish Style

Here’s another little video of the Odunpazari neighborhood in Eskisehir, where my “Missing” flyers will be posted soon. The old Ottoman houses are being restored. There’s not much tourism yet in the area, but hopes are high.

Reward

Early Spring Garden

Radishes and carrots
Last lettuce
New tomato starts
Radicchio (my fav),
Broccoli (didn’t do great with this)
Chives
Parsley (need to replace)

April Fool

I am a Good Girl, Happy in Every Way!
And I have so much time to enjoy Life!
I spend long lazy afternoons doing nothing!
I love teaching Art History!
My paintings are selling!
I have enough Money and Friends and Love!
Etc, etc, etc!

What Kloe is Missing

I accidentally opened my email account to a page that showed letters from a year ago. And there was my gram, vivid and alive, advising and loving me from SoCal to Turkey. Her birthday is soon, like mine, and I really miss her.
Here is what she wrote me:

Dear Kloe.
I'm imagining that you are having a completely wonderful
time at your show in Ankara. Trust you are living up to the
recognition and the satisfaction that comes with it. Hope your health survives.
Today I was going around my house and reading from your sketches and
paintings the dates they were done. How much angst when you had to pay for
framing them and spending time in the so-called gallery . Things from 1990, Mexico, Arizona desert, Africa, Spain. Thanks for not giving up.
I enjoy everything of yours, back to when you drew yourself practicing
the piano at age 10.
Best of success at each thing you are doing. Your blog has been
great--even though I don't always "get it".
Gram

Have you lost any objects recently that you would like back?

What?
• 18 kt gold puzzle ring had for 30 years.
• An interview I did with a photo-mart guy.
• My wedding ring that was given to me by my grandmother. It was stolen.
• When I lose things, I let them go rather quickly.
• My grandfather’s mother-of-pearl cufflinks.
• A diamond.
• One Tahitian pearl earring—in a Paris hotel. DANG!
• Camera, it was a good one.
• Two NG4 controllers, countless CDs, toys from my childhood packed into boxes.
• One of my mom’s pearl earrings that she let me borrow.
• I'd like to regain a good erection.
• $600 in an unmarked envelop.

Risk and Exercise

And, yes, in my next life I’m going to be an amazing girl skateboarder. Now I have to be content with blading—excellent for sculpting the back end…

What is Missing in Your Life?

Here are some (mostly serious) answers from Americans…
• Direction.
• A sense of good, wholesome food that nourishes...but without the White pretentious, yuppie, upper-class associations of today's American society.
• My father; I have never met him.
• A well husband—hugs and flirting from him.
• Competition, thrill, a job.
• My youth.
• Friendship, friends you can really count on.
• Financial security.
• A man—a wonderful, adventurous, compassionate, bright human being who loves to travel.
• Certain old friends.
• A granddaughter.
• A supportive partner.
• Risk and exercise and sex and poetry.

Odunpazarı Projesi, Eskişehir

Odunpazarı’nda gerçekleştirilecek olan bir sanat etkinliğinde katılımcı
olarak yer almaktayım. Bu etkinlikte gerçekleştirilecek olan işler,
geleneksel bir yerleşim merkezi olan Odunpazarı’nın farklı pek çok noktasına
yerleştirilecek ve izleyici olarak bu yerleşimde yaşayan geleneksel halkı ve
işçi sınıfını hedef alacaktır.

Benim gerçekleştireceğim proje, “kayıp” ilanları üzerine olacak, Türkçe ve
İngilizce olarak hazırlanan kayıp ilanları, insanların değer yargılarını
sorgulamaya; farklı ülkelerde nelerin değerli, nelerin değersiz olduğunu
düşünmeye yönlendirecektir. Bu ilanlar aynı zamanda 9/11 New York saldırısı
ve 1999 Türkiye depremi gibi daha derin kayıplara da gönderme yapacaktır.
İlanlar, metin ve görsel içerikli olacak ve Odunpazarı evlerinin duvarlarına
ve pencerelerine asılacaktır.

Aşağıdaki soruları yanıtlayarak projemin detaylarında bana yardım ederseniz
çok sevinirim. İsminiz saklı tutulacaktır.

Çok teşekkürler, Kloe Among the Turks

• Hayatınızda ne kayıp? Neler eksik?

• Yakın zamanda kaybettiğiniz ve geri gelmesini istediğiniz bir
eşyanız var mı? Varsa nedir?


• Türkiye/Avrupa/Orta Doğu’da bulmak istediğiniz bir şeyi tarif
ediniz.

• Hiç bir evcil hayvanınız kayboldu mu? Lütfen tarif ediniz
(fiziksel özellikleri, adı, belirgin davranışları vs.)

------

Odunpazari Project, Eskisehir

I am participating in a public art festival with many artists in a
traditional neighborhood in Turkey. The art will be placed in various
locations in the neighborhood, and is meant to involve the local residents,
who are mostly traditional, working-class Turks.

My project is to make “missing” flyers, translated in both Turkish and
English, to get people thinking about what is valued in different cultures.
The flyers will also refer to more serious loss, such as 9/11 and the
Turkish earthquake of 1999. These fake flyers will contain text and imagery.
They will be posted on walls and windows of the neighborhood.

Please help me with details if you can. No names will be used.
Thanks, Kloe Among the Turks

What are you missing in your life?

Have you lost any objects recently that you would like back? What?

Please describe something that you'd like to find in Turkey/Europe/Middle
East:

Have you ever lost a pet?
Please describe the pet (physical description, name, any special behaviors)


Thanks to Melike Tascioglu for translation
and
Esin Kucukbicmen for video

Two Easters

Last year I spend Easter Sunday in Istanbul at the Hagia Sofia, one of the most famous and beautiful buildings in Christendom. Afterward we went to Starbucks with a carpet toot. Just today I got an email from the Turkish friend who traveled with me, I haven’t heard from her in months. I hope she stays in touch.
This year I spent Easter Sunday with a big Mexican clan eating ham in the backyard while the kids searched for plastic eggs in the lawn. It was about 85F—forget spring, summer is here already.
Don’t know which was more surreal.

Art Tribe

Something new has begun to develop in my life, that I have friends I get together with to talk Art. I experienced this in Turkey with my colleagues, really for the first time since grad school. Now I have been invited to join a painting group here in SoCal that meets regularly to show work and discuss topics that affect us (last month we talked about art we’re afraid to make, next time we may talk about image/branding). I also have some individual friends who drink coffee or beer with me, and we have fantastic, full discussions about theory, art education, how art fits into society (or not), etc. We leave family/work/gossip alone, and just rove around in these topics that consume us.
It’s surprising and lovely. I send these friends many kisses!
Photos are from LACMA again, an installation by Chris Burden of streetlamps. Feels just right, like an ancient temple. Kids were totally into it, me too.

Koons in LA

It’s Spring Break, and boy did I need it. I realize teachers are spoiled with our short breaks and long vacations, but it really does make us better at our jobs to have time away. I think everyone should have a week in Spring.
Went to see the new addition to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It was well worth it. The new building by Renzo Piano now unites the two blocks on Wilshire of LACMA into one long complex. This Jeff Koons piece is in the new entrance (one of the only places you can shoot photos). The inaugural show has full rooms of artists, like Twombly (of whom my kids said “those are the ugliest paintings EVER,” but I love them), Rusche, Sherman, etc. Also two huge Serras.
I’ve never been a big fan of Koons, but I totally got it this time—the playfulness, the sexiness, the great craft. Kids approved also.
Hot tips:
• LACMA is open noon-8pm, but after 5pm it’s pay what you can.
• Sign your kids up for the Next Generation Club, and they get in free until they’re 18, plus one adult per kid also gets in free! Now that’s a smart museum.

Two-Point

I teach a linear perspective course. The subject is as tough as they come, 44 hours of nothing but one-, two- and three-point perspective instruction. Lots of students can’t hack it, and drop. But they’ll just have to take it again the next quarter, cause it’s a requirement for all majors, for good reason.
Here’s a project I was absolutely thrilled with. The problem I assigned was to create an interior and exterior with horror overtones using a two-point grid. Student is an interior design major, with mediocre drawing skills, but she’s smart. Plus she’s older, with teens at home (and if that doesn’t make you determined, I don’t know what does). She took two iconic images, Whistler’s “Mother” and Wood’s “American Gothic,” and transformed them from one-point to two-point. Media is marker on vellum with prismacolor pencil details.
Isn’t it great? Appropriation, narrative, correct perspective, and rich use of media.

Brothers

.01 said to .02, as he threw him over his lap and played him like a piano, I love you.

Old and Alone

I have this friend, J. We’ve been close for years, and it was his 80-something birthday a few days ago. I took him to lunch and brought him some Turkish glass birds (he believes in Luck). He’s had an incredible life, but a hard one: war, injustice, prison, short marriage, lost kids, voodoo, underworld, poverty. He’s always lived life on the fringes.
Now he’s old and alone. He may have always been alone, but when you’re old, it hurts more. I tend to think, that won’t happen to me. But I’m fooling myself. Being alone in old age could and does happen to anyone, even those with large families and money. J isn’t homeless only because of the social safety net and because of being a WWII vet.
I’m not feeling very optimistic today.

Different Kind of Art

I spent the evening baking lemon bars and brownies with good, expensive chocolate. My mom is giving a “ladies’ luncheon” for her friends, isn’t that cute? I’m doing dessert.
My grandmother and my mother, along with a few women I roomed with, taught me how to throw a party. My sister is also good at this, better than I am. Dinner, brunch, luncheon, cocktail, it doesn’t matter, we can host 10, 20, 50 people, no problem. I don’t think this is something you can learn from reading Martha Stewart; you need to experience how to do it. Most people wouldn’t even consider throwing a party. So it’s up to us few, who can cook and organize, put music on, buy some flowers, straighten up, get conversation going, set a table, drink some wine, enjoy. A lost art.
(yellow flowers above are broccoli)

Not Pretty

The shoe is falling. Today Kid.01’s teacher got a pink slip from Arnie, along with three other teachers at the school of 450 kids. It was based on seniority. So that means 4-10 teachers at just about every school K-12 in California got notice today, or will soon. Yes, they’ll finish out the year, but how? With such uncertainty, how can they be effective teachers? And without those teachers, how will the public schools function? Will class size, which was reduced to under 21 pupils for K-3, be increased again? More cuts in non-tested no-child subjects, like art/music, p.e., science?
How is this possible???? The State of California is trying to balance its budget on the backs of little kids.

Art Challenge

I’ve been invited to participate in an art exhibition that will take place in the old neighborhood of My Anatolian City. In this area the houses are Ottoman style, and the people are mostly working class and traditional (as opposed to conservative). Their understanding about Art is most likely limited to craft, and the idea of this exhibition is to involve the locals.
I can’t travel to Turkey now, so I’m doing a conceptual project I will email to assistants who will install it. The idea is to post “missing” flyers, the kind you make if your cat has disappeared, or more poignantly, if a loved one is lost after planes fly into a building. I’ll write more as I develop the themes, and the text will be in Turkish and English.
Are you missing anything that might be found in Central Anatolia? I'm taking suggestions!

The Goal of Being a Cultured Person in this Money-Crazed Society We Live In

I’m currently teaching a large lecture course called Art Orientation. It’s for non-art majors, and satisfies a humanities requirement for general education. So my students are from all over the map. The course combines aesthetics (the study of beauty), basic design principles, art-making techniques, art history, and art criticism.
As opposed to my Art History course, which is difficult for me, teaching Art Orientation comes easy. I strive to turn my students on to Art, get them excited or outraged just a little bit. I want them to know about all aspects of art, to go to galleries and museums, not to make money or get ahead in life, but to become more interesting people (I sneak in that being art-educated also makes them more attractive to possible dates, art = sexy). This goal of becoming cultured is not at all valued by the average American, even those attending college.
Anyway, I’m about to give my first test, so we’ll see if any of this is sinking in. Attendance has been pretty good for such a large class with this bad flu season we’ve had here.
painting by Gail Roberts, and yes, still have dogs on the brain...

Soft-Centered Kloe

My kids are at that Why-can’t-we-have-a-dog stage. It might be nice (I’ve never had a dog), but friends have told me it’s like having another baby. And I’m so glad the baby stage is past.
Sometimes you feel yourself getting worn down, though. Like an ice cream cone slowly melting, leaving big chocolate rivulets.

Overwhelming Art

I love to experience art in a totally emotional way. Many times in my life I’ve attended live performance—classical music, opera, pop, dance, theater—that overwhelms my emotions. I find myself with tears streaming down my face, and I can’t help it. It’s not the same as being manipulated to cry during a Hollywood movie. I cry when I’m experience extreme and painful beauty.
The irony is that my own field of visual art rarely elicits this reaction from me. Maybe it has to do with the time-basedness of the performing arts. Or maybe visual art is just too cerebral.
But the other day I was watching Art 21, a PBS series of interviews with contemporary artists, for my Art Orientation class. Some of the artists are down-to-earth, some arrogant, some funny, some sarcastic, some all business, some cryptic.
But then came an interview with sculptor Louise Bourgeios, one of the grade dames of the High Art world. She is about 90 now, her French accent still thick. Maybe it was that I so rarely see someone of advanced age on video. Maybe that it was that she reminded me of my grandmother with her intelligence. It was certainly the artwork that broke me down and had me weeping at its beauty.
She took large rough blocks of black marble, about three feet high, and carved only the tops, from casts made of her own arms and hands, and the hands of other people, including children.
She then placed these fragile fragmented limbs on their pedestals in a wild grassy urban park, with no grand walkways or clearing, so if you came on them it was a surprise. The grace and timelessness of these sculptures totally tore out my heart. They are like the missing arms of Greek statues, or found limbs of those blown off by land mines. You should see them.

Yes, That's a Dead Pelican

I teach for three different institutions. Two public, one private (I’m working on a post on for-profit higher education, whole other story). The school I’ve been with the longest, we’ll call it School A, has a very strong teacher’s union, and as this union cares about its part-timers, it's gotten us a pretty good hourly. Not the top in Calif, but close. Now Arnie-Baby is messing with education at all levels here, and many cuts will be made in a few weeks at the elementary through high school levels. You will hear the screaming all the way to the East Coast, believe me. It’s affecting higher ed too.
Anyway, my new place, School B, is nice, good facilities, friendly people. But I got my first paycheck, and the hourly turns out to be quite a bit less than I expected. I’m totally shocked. (How, you ask, can you agree to work for a place when you don’t know the hourly?… state institutions are Byzantine—you tell yourself, “hey, I’ve got a terminal degree,” they must respect that fucking piece of paper and all the years of experience I have…) Even a PhD with 30 years of experience who comes to work part time for B gets the same low pay!
Teaching is really starting to FRY ME. I’m so exhausted most days, I spend all my free time prepping lectures and answering student emails. Now this pay. We’re public servants, yes, but there’s a limit.

Don’t even get me started on my first art history exam, which I gave a few days ago and is taking me about 10 hours to grade. Example: Give three reasons prehistoric peoples would have painted in caves. “For business.” "Because they didn't have pen and paper." "For kicks."

Dang

One of my best students just found out she’s getting redeployed. She was doing so well in class, excited about drawing, and now she’ll have to drop. When is this war going to end?

Rules

K: We have rules in our classrooms.
02: Like no talking when the teacher is talking.
K: Exactly, my students listen to me.
02: Well, they’re grownups—of course they follow the rules!

Wow

I was totally out of it yesterday when I wrote that post. Don’t even remember typing it. I guess all the stress just built up and I needed to PARTY. And that photo, really… bad girl, Kloe…