More than a water bottle

I was sick today with some form of a stomach bug – rather unpleasant business – but it did provide me some time lay in bed and think. Just think. I thought about my growing list of things to do, friendship commitments, class assignments…blogs…and this emerald green, plastic 7-up bottle I sipped from. Just look, next time you drink from a bottle of any kind, the designs, form, functional qualities, and ergonomics considered. It’s not as if someone took a cylinder form and attached a cone on top complete with a screw cap. Rather, it appears as though many considerations were involved when designing.

The bottle contains shapes built from a selection of lines, angles, and corners of particular degree repeated throughout the bottle’s design. All edges are of the same curvature around each decorative shape. And these elements respond to the 7-Up logo and its aesthetic qualities. These shapes are, no doubt, also used functionally to help support the bottle under pressure. It’s more of a structure than simple piece of molded plastic. The screw top is also carefully designed to correspond to the bottle’s overall profile. When compared to the Ozarka bottle which is more stout and has a shorter cap, the 7-Up bottle’s longer form allows for a more significant and weighty cap.

This morning I held a water bottle throughout my SMU campus tour to prospective students. It’s an SMU “admissions” water bottle with copy about SMU’s programs on the paper wrap. But this bottle, while designed well in simple form, lacked the ergonomic qualities of my 7-Up bottle. The SMU water bottle is essentially a perfect cylinder without concave shapes for hand gripping. It frequently slid out of my hands.

This reminds me of the Porsche car designer who was hired by Cutco knives to develop an ergonomic and aesthetically pleasing handle. He used pieces of clay small enough to fit in one’s hand. He then had people squeeze the clay to produce a strong imprint and shape in the molded clay. The designer analyzed his extensive research to produce a handle that responded well to the hand-molded clay and one’s eyes.

I think this approach can be applied to most everyday objects, and will offer a different perspective next time I use a water bottle.

Lump and Beanie

Last Spring I purchased a small hard-back book featuring Picasso and his dachshund at a boutique bookstore. The photographs caught my attention first – they’re really wonderful – highlighting his wiener dog named Lump (little rascal in German) at his famous home in France. Lump used to belong to Picasso’s photographer who documented his artistic life and family. The frequent visits eventually led Lump to stay with the artist, and became Picasso’s close companion for the last seventeen years of his life. In fact, both Picasso and Lump died in the same year.

And I’ve heard multiple times that dachshunds are popular pets for artists. I went ahead and researched this phenomenon, finding truth in this assertion. Diego Rivera, Frieda Kahlo, Rubens, Rembrandt, Michelangelo, Da Vinci (his dachshund was named Mona), Picasso, O’Keeffe, and Warhol all owned canines of this breed. Some claim it’s because a dachshund’s nature is creative.

I too have a little dachshund, named Beanie Wienie (we just call him Beanie for short), who’s one of the sweetest creatures on this planet. And while I could talk about him for pages like any other dog owner could for their pet, I won’t and will spare you from gagging. He’s simply “the best dog in the world.” He’s a fighter too, though. This past summer he was bit by a rattlesnake on the eye, was at death’s doorstep for a few days, and finally came through, but with one eye less. It just enhances his character. Now he’s my little pirate, and while he may not be my “artistic muse” necessarily, he is nonetheless inspirational.

Intertextuality and Honda

This Honda advertisement is an example of intertextuality. It uses the “Impossible Dream” song from the musical “Man of La Mancha” about Don Quixote who’s explaining his quest and reasons for it. The character in the ad is also on a quest as his journey leads him from his home to a series of places traveled by a variety of methods (small motorcycle, four-wheeler, motorcycle, sports motorcycle, car, racecar, boat, and ultimately, hot air balloon) that increase with speed at each transition. This character is also sings along to the song.

Meth and my fascination

Methamphetamines fascinate me. No, I don’t use them – never have and never will – I’m just fascinated by their production, usage, and consequences. Back at my high school we had the occasional tweeker, but association was rare and I seldom got to know any of them. I wish I had, however. I mean, there at school would have been great grounds to do so. I wouldn’t have become “buddy-buddy” with them, just acquaintances to better understand their drugged life and why they have become addicts. I would not have offered my phone numbers or personal information, just a name for them to remember me when we passed between classes.

One of my primary fascinations is how these tweekers become educated on producing meth. I don’t understand why their knowledge in that arena doesn’t translate to chemistry class. Because the concoction contains ingredients like phosphorous from road flares or matchbooks, ephedrine typically from cold meds, #7 iodine crystals, and aluminum foil – resourceful. Furthermore, the production process utilizes a hot plate, many jugs and hoses, timers, Coleman fuel, and Red Devil lye. It’s enough information and step-by-step procedures to fill a textbook.

Second –the transition from happy, successful student to meth-head. It’s not doubt a sad progression, but interesting to note. The meth-users at my school always wore oversized black sweatshirts, even in the Arizona summer months, with jeans displaying their gallery of artwork derived from Bic pens and doodles during class lectures. Huge skateboarding shoes were also necessary. I think the sweatshirts were used for storing their drugs in addition to covering their blotchy and dried skin. (But again, I wouldn’t know as I didn’t make the most of my opportunity). Heavy eye makeup and straw-like hair were also identifiers. And finally, tweekers hung out with tweekers, but no mixing with the outside world. It’s as if no one else could possibly understand their lifestyle at any level to be able to hang with them.

Third – they’re hooked, and there’s no letting go. Depending on when they start using, meth can end their life in the 20s, 30s, or even teens if overdosed. And it’s the body’s physical appearance I also find interesting. Meth has a way to age someone unlike most other drugs. I remember in my health classes seeing pictures of a meth user at age 16, and then at age 20, and finally age 30. The progression was horrific. A twenty-some year old could look 50 or 60 years old, but not even a healthy person of this mid-to-late age – a sick 50-some year old resting on their deathbed. Their eyes are sunk into their skull, hair is falling out, skin is scaly and spotted, teeth yellowed and sometimes missing, fingernails gnarly and yellow-tinged. It’s disgusting, and furthermore, adds to my fascination as to how and why these kids get hooked. What part of health class did they miss?

The formula for meth is C(10)H(15)N. Urban Dictionary defines meth as “A Redneck population control device.” Wikipedia as “Methamphetamine (methylamphetamine or desoxyephedrine), popularly shortened to meth, is a psychostimulant and sympathomimetic drug. It is prescribed for severe cases of attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder or narcolepsy under the brand name Desoxyn. It is also used illegally for recreational purposes. "Crystal meth" refers to the crystalline, smokeable form of the drug and is not used for the drug in pill or powdered form.”

Zogby

When part of a society, individuals make unique decisions and have distinct beliefs to those around them. And while we may be able to group these individuals into classifications holding a particular view about an idea (liberal, conservative, religious, atheist, etc.), it is difficult for us to rank the popularity of a certain viewpoint above another as we can’t lift our heads above the crowd to take a head count. This is why John Zogby has become so successful. His polling business provides a tally for particular beliefs, and can group them to shed light on the American status.

But this is interesting – for a recent national poll for issues like, “When asked which political party most Americans believe to be responsible for many of the gravest problems facing the world,” the responses are believed to be more genuine than if the question is directed to the surveyed. People are more likely to state their opinions in a socially accepted stance, and may not offer their true viewpoints which they may believe to be extreme and/or embarrassing to share. To solve this problem, Zogby and his team posed questions addressing the individual, but concerning what “most Americans” believe for an issue. This takes off the pressure. In this style of polling I have found some fascinating results from Zogby. Notice how these questions are posed.

On Disability: When asked to choose whom they believe most Americans would least want to work with, 26% of respondents said someone who is morbidly obese. Twenty-two percent said someone with a facial disfigurement. Respondents thought Americans would object much less to deaf (3%) and blind (1%) co-workers.

On Sexual Orientation & Gender: 62% said they believe Americans oppose same-sex marriages. Yet 58% would elect a gay person for president - about the same as for an Arab-American (57%), and more than for a person over age 70 (51%), or for an atheist (51%). On gender, 93% think Americans believe men are most responsible for crime, extra-marital affairs (82%), and sexually transmitted diseases (72%).

On Race: While 67% of respondents claimed to have no preference themselves between a white, black or Arab clerk in a convenience store, 71% said, "most Americans" would seek out the white clerk. Just 1% said Americans' first choice would be to approach a black clerk, while less than 0.5% said the same for an Arab clerk. And yet, ironically, 55% of respondents said race relations have improved over the past 10 years. Other results on race (where respondents picked from among several races):
* 73% said in the event of a shooting, most Americans would expect African Americans to be involved
* 55% said in the event of a drug bust, most Americans would expect African Americans to be involved
* 53% said in the event of identity theft; most Americans would expect whites to be involved
* 70% said in the event of insurance fraud, most Americans would expect whites to be involved

For as devout as Georgia O’Keeffe was to northern New Mexico, it’s incredible she painted only five pieces of the Ranchos de Taos Church, the oldest church in America. This church, more formally referred to as the San Francisco de Asis Church, was built by the Spanish who traveled into America. It’s a very sacred place and even for people not religious, can have a spiritual quality to it. Visually, the adobe building is very aesthetically pleasing in composition and form. It’s hard to explain with words, but a photograph or physical presence can illuminate this quality instantly. I was fortunate to attend two services, and was pleased to see it still functioning as a church. The service was in part Spanish, and in part English. But back to O’Keeffe, I think it’s incredible she produced only five works from it. Her reasoning was this: She found that the presence of the church is so magnificent and spiritually charged that it could not be reproduced on canvas, and in fact, doing so would be disrespectful. O’Keeffe did not think she was worthy enough to try to capture it. This is ironic because the church has become the most photographed in the United States, and is an important destination for many plein air painters and painters who sell to the Taos tourist market – their idea of sacred is far from O’Keeffe’s.

I produced a few studies of the church and this aquatint etching on a copper plate.

Below is a graduation speech I gave back in high school. I'd like to share this message again, even though it was tailored to my classmates. It also ties into my blog's Crayola inspired title.

Class of 2007, “How many of you are artists? Would you please raise your hand? No, really, if you think you are an artist, raise your hand.” Hmmm. That’s disappointing. (Few raise their hand)

A Hallmark graphic designer, Gordon MacKenzie, posed this same question when he visited elementary schools to discuss his profession. In first grade, the entire class would enthusiastically shoot up their hands to claim they were artists. In second grade, about three-fourths of the students raised their hands, somewhat less energetically. And by sixth grade, the entire class fell silent, and everyone turned their heads to see who would admit to such “deviant behavior.” This is a disappointing realization.

Because the definition of an artist is one who expresses him or herself through media such as writing, dance, drama, painting, film, and music. And although I know not everyone is an artist by this definition, we will all become artists in areas such as science or law, using either the human body or the constitution as our Crayola crayon.

Graduates, up to this point, our teachers, counselors, and parents have provided us with coloring books complete with dark, black lines within which we have been told to neatly color. If Mr. Deuger or Mrs. Metcalf told us to color Mickey Mouse’s shoes yellow, then we colored those shoes with the perfect yellow crayon.

But starting tomorrow, life is going to provide us with a new coloring book. And this time the lines are going to fade throughout college until blank pages present themselves before us and our little crayon. We will now need to create our own lines to color in between. And life is going to demand we produce a masterpiece.

Pablo Picasso was one of the most prolific artists. He produced many abstract masterpieces with multi-colored people missing an eye, or perhaps sprouting an extra leg. It is a shame that so many people today do not understand his style. Many of us claim that our stick figures fare better than his creations, and that Picasso simply paints like a child. Ironically, Picasso possessed some of the finest technical skills. He had already learned how to draw perfect human figures and color within the lines. Picasso claimed he learned these skills in his youth, but it took him a lifetime to learn how to draw like a child. Now these “childlike” pieces are some of the most valued in the world.

They hang on the museum walls next to those paintings of which one makes fun. The entire canvas is painted blue, for example, with a small red dot in the middle. And the viewer standing next to you will whip out her checkbook for a quarter of a million dollars because she sees something you don’t.

Graduates, what kind of masterpiece will you paint in your life beyond high school? With what style, college, or career will you paint it? And is it going to be worth enough to you personally, to proudly raise your hand in a room full of people with different interests? If not, then tear out that blank sheet of paper, crumple it up, throw it away, and start new on clean paper, just as we will do tomorrow. Class of 2007, let’s paint our world!

Old and Still Cool

I typically see my grandparents twice each year on their cotton farm in Littlefield, Texas. It’s flat, dusty, and just outside of Lubbock. Does this paint any picture for you? Well, if you’ve been fortunate to see Lubbock, then enough’s been said. But regardless, it’s a place I look forward to visiting because my grandparents, possibly out of a mindset from the Great Depression, keep everything: cleaned used foil, Zip-lock bags, every National Geographic since the ‘40s, broken tools in the shop that may be melted down someday, and a collection of mousetraps. The experience is similar to that of an antique mall. The ones that have select vendors who place meaningless crap in their booths like their son or daughter’s first pair of shoes, or Johnny’s rusted, red tricycle that looks kinda cool, but not appropriate for an antique show. Their old farm house is ready to explode with stuff. Stuff – this is the only word I can think to describe it. Some, if not most, sentimental stuff - but this is relative. And each time I visit, I explore like I’m Alice in her Wonderland. But out in the barn alongside a line of vintage and new John Deer tractors rest five refrigerators from my grandparents’ lifetime in their farmhouse. Many of us have found it funny. They’re lined up like a firing squad, and hold inside of them old tools, scrap metal, and various other pieces no one would call their treasure. Oh, and these refrigerators don’t work – of course. That’s why they’re relocated to the barn.

My small watercolor above was completed when I had to move inside the barn after west Texas winds tore apart my easel. They quickly became a fascinating subject and took on personalities like a live model would in a life drawing class. And I think it’s one of my favorite pieces because the personal connection is so strong, and it conjures up many stories. This one I won’t part with just as my grandparents wouldn’t part with a used sandwich bag – cleaned of course.

What a life.

Most Thursday nights back home, I can be found strolling the streets of Old Town Scottsdale during their weekly art walks. Jazz bands, wine (for those of age, of course), cheese, and the Scottsdale socialites are also along these streets. But there is a particular gallery I stepped into which showed a generous variety of impressionist work from contemporary artists. The colors in each painting were most striking. And close attention to brushstrokes that respond to the subject matter and forms, not the artist’s overpowering style, was evident. Before leaving the gallery the manager asked me which caught my attention most. I pointed out a grouping of paintings of landscapes and cityscapes, interiors too, done in a style similar to John Singer Sargent. They were simply beautiful. Composition, color, brush quality, everything. Then the manager asked how old I was. 19 years old. Then he explained that the artist who I called attention to had just graduated college and is traveling Europe on a painting tour. She’s highly successful and is sought after by many galleries. Wow. Truly incredible – what an experience she is having! I’ve dreamed for a long time to live a bohemian life during the late 19^th century and paint my days away. But our 21^st century doesn’t allow for this lifestyle. However, this artist (whose name I can’t recall – her information is back home in a file I keep of artists’ postcards and contact info) is leading an altered form of this life. She travels to Europe, paints, sends her paintings back to the States, sells them, gets money, puts this money towards more travel expenses and living overseas, and continues the cycle over again. Now, she’s young and just graduated college, so I’m not so sure how long this experience will continue, but for the meantime is pretty cool. I admire her career. It’s not something I want to do for the rest of my life, but fantasize about traveling by safari in Kenya and Tanzania, trekking across the Sahara, or “gypsying” around Latin America – these are the places I’d go to paint. The colors and culture fascinate me and would provide fantastic subject matter and opportunities for my paint and brushes. And in the midst of my painting I could live like Karen Dinesen in Out of Africa on a plantation aiding the locals, or like Hemingway. By the way, let me point out that Out of Africa is my favorite book, and the movie’s a classic for me too. Enough daydreaming. I really respect this artist whose work I came across back in Scottsdale. She’s ambitious and leading a life not set by a cookie cutter like many who graduate and find a job and apartment. The idea of it is refreshing and inspirational.

I didn't need to see that.

I’d like to comment on the Pluckers billboard advertisement on the west side of Lover’s Lane and North Central Expressway. It’s gross. And almost entirely because of it I have chosen not to eat there. My roommate adores it, however. And when he has it delivered to our room the smell is enough to make me gag – truly – and I can’t stop thinking about their revolting advertisement. For those of you readers who have no idea what I’m talking about, just picture three pale, middle-aged men carrying beer-bellies that droop slightly over their whitey-tighties. Thank God we don’t see their faces. The copy below reads, “body by Pluckers.” Am I supposed to be amused by this?? Yes, I remember their restaurant/product, but not in good light. Take a look for yourself next time you cruise down the 75.

Rolls-Royce yesterday and today

In my marketing class we watched a selection of car advertisements – Rolls-Royce, Porsche, Hummer H2, Mercedes GL Class, Saab, Hyundai, and Kia – and compared their advertising approaches. Rolls Royce was filmed in a night-time setting through some tunnel or dimly-lit bridge that reflected small hints of the black car her and there – just enough information to understand the maker of the car and the aesthetic beauty that even a glimmer on the paintjob can have. Only a glint of the hood ornament is necessary to communicate the car gliding by. People who consider buying a car of this type are not interested in price, practicality, or miles-per-gallon compared to Kia buyers. They will be more motivated by an ad that suggests status, glamour, and luxury.

But it’s interesting because I recently flipped through Phaidon’s Advertising Today and came across a Rolls-Royce print ad from the 1950s (price then offered at $15,655!) The advertising approach is 180 degrees opposite. A list of their 16 top qualities about the product is listed below a perfect profile-angled picture of the sleek car. Copy is:

“At 60 miles an hour the loudest noise in this new Rolls-Royce comes from the electric clock.

What makes Rolls-Royce the best car in the world? ‘There is really no magic about it – it is merely patient attention to detail,’ says an eminent Rolls-Royce engineer.”

An illustration is even included to distinguish Rolls-Royce’s massive grill from Bentley’s. The text accompanying it is funny:

“The Bentley is made by Rolls-Royce. Except for the radiator shells, they are identical motor cars, manufactured by the same engineers in the same works. The Bentley costs $300 less, because it’s radiator is simpler to make. People who feel diffident about driving a Rolls-Royce can buy a Bentley.” Seriously?!

Sin

I have found this entry in my devotional from Hebrews 4:15 very encouraging, and would like to share it.

When his accusers called him a servant of Satan, Jesus demanded to see their evidence. “Which one of you convicts Me of sin?” he dared (John 8:46). Ask my circle of friends to point out my sin, and watch the hands shoot up. When those who knew Jesus were asked this same question, no one spoke. Christ was followed by disciples, analyzed by crowds, criticized by family, and scrutinized by enemies, yet not one sin. He was never found in the wrong place. Never said the wrong word. Never acted the wrong way. He never sinned. Not that he wasn’t tempted, mind you. He was “tempted in every way that we are, but he did not sin.”

Lust wooed him. Greed lured him. Power called him. Jesus-the human-was tempted. But Jesus, the holy God-resisted.

Max Lucado

Unfortunate Print Ads

There are three clothing companies that use, in my opinion, some of the worst print advertisement: Lucky Brand, IZOD and Sketchers. They look like something I could produce with my elementary level experience on Photoshop. In fact, I could’ve produced most of their ads just after my first day of Photoshop class last semester using three simple functions: hue/saturation, the “lasso” cut tool, and basic text boxes. The colors are almost iridescent in IZOD, and blaringly saturated in the other two. It’s virtually impossible to create blue denim dies in the colors they present. And although I know IZOD is well-known for its basic patterns and bold, rugby strips, I think I could use some of their glossy images as birthday party wrapping paper. I don’t want to wear it. Also, is it possible for Sketchers to place their models on a floor of some sort, not an invisible cloud with PowerPoint-produced stone backgrounds? And the models’ gestures in these ads – can these be performed anymore awkward and unnatural? Oh, and the copy, “easy fashion…easy livin’” is rather cheesy. Especially when placed beneath the three profile-angled shoes each confined to a one-eighth-inch white border against a more transparent background. Now that I’ve considered it, I think I could reproduce each of these ads in Word - and their updates on Vista would make it even easier.

tats and me don't need to be

I had a friend call me recently and ask if I could design a butterfly tattoo for her. My first question was, “where is this going??”… And my second question was, “why?” I guess I’m supposed to be flattered someone would consider my college-level drawing abilities appropriate for a tat on their tummy. I mean, isn’t this little piece of art going to live with her for the rest of her life? Even her husband will never be as physically capable to get as close to her as my tattoo will. But it won’t. I refuse. I don’t support the tattoo arts.

I just posted an entry which includes a short comment referencing my habits to a packrat. Now, many people naively understand the word “packrat” to be an imaginary rodent which humorously refers to someone who hoards a crap-load of meaningless shit. I mentioned in my post that I’m a packrat because, for example, I keep every book dustcover I take off because I don’t like the look of them. Do I need to dustcovers? No. Might I need them someday? Maybe. Maybe they’ll add to the value of the books when they’re antiques. Maybe they’ll accompany the books when, in six hundred years mine are the only ones left on the planet, they are exhibited at the Smithsonian. I don’t yet know, but just in case. And so, when people use this word “packrat” and follow with a snicker, I always make an attempt to explain that, in fact, these creatures are real. Actually, they inhabit the Arizona desert and my front yard, and furthermore, are protected by the state – a fine of $1800 is issued to anyone who is seen or proven tearing down their unsightly nests.

Donald Hoffmeister from the University of Arizona defines the “packrat” as the following:

Woodrats -- members of the Genus Neotoma -- are large-bodied and long-tailed rats with (in our Arizona forms) relatively well-haired tails. The White-throated Woodrat is found throughout Arizona, while the Mexican Woodrat (N. mexicana) may occur in our general area but is more of a montane species. White-throated Woodrats have a definite association with stands of Cholla and Prickly Pear cacti, which they use to build their nests, cutting the cacti into 3-4"-long pieces and carrying them to the nest site in their mouths. The cacti parts serve both as nest-protectors and as food. The nest consists of two parts -- the house (the collected material, which is mostly above ground) and the nest (which is usually dug partway below ground). There may also be some underground tunnels leading to the nest, which is built of fine grasses or shredded fibers and about 6" in diameter, with an interior cavity about half that size. This serves as a daytime retreat (well shaded from the intense summertime heat) and as a nursery. These woodrats feed mainly on Cholla cacti where these are available, or on Prickly Pear. They may therefore need to drink no free water. This one below has constructed its nest in a pile of fallen saguaro limbs, filling in the gaps with protective materials with a variety of cacti and other plant materials brought from locations nearby.

So there you have it. Packrat.

Visually and Spatially I solve my problems

My “preferred route for problem solving and understanding” can be classified visually/spatially according to the Multiple Intelligences chart designed by Howard Gardner. However, I can see myself positioned under any of his possible “intelligences.” I’m athletic, good with numbers, and interested in language, for example, and could find myself solving and understanding kinesthetically, logically, or linguistically. But it is my visual sense that provides most understanding to the world around me.

I know this because I relate best to anything visual/spatial. To begin, I’m an artist, and one who is growing in the field and hungry to eat up anything I can about the arts: history, current artists, technique, style, art meccas, museums, galleries, market, and so on. I’ve made it my priority. And from the arts I stem many of my other interests. I provide an example below:

My bedroom. Yes, for everyone this place must be comfortable and personal, but to me it reflects my visual and spatial qualities. I painted a mural on my walls of a world map – but I did it with a faux finish in browns, rusts, and golds to complement the furniture, lighting, and overall décor of the room. The warm colors translate to a warm room – a comfortable one. And the map has personal meaning – I’ve been fortunate to travel the world and have many unusual cultural pieces placed on my bookcases and walls. And on these bookcases I rearrange my collection of antique books and trinkets to achieve a level of aestheticism. Oh, and the books – I like to take off the dust covers because I really dislike the plastic and glossy look of them, many with overpowering colors that wouldn’t respond well with the mural and feel of the room. I like the tones and textures of the fabrics and embossed paper bound to my books. (But the packrat in me keeps these dustcovers in a Sterlight container). From my parents’ antique Persian carpet collection I bargained to keep a few in my room – the patterns and muted colors are perfect for the floor. I also remember back to seventh grade when I redecorated my room from bright primary colors painted for a Safari themed mural to the style it is now. I searched the Phoenix valley for the perfect chair – elements including size, color, material, wood stain, time-period relevance, and structure were carefully considered to find the right one. And my bedspread – this was never resolved. So my Mom, in her little spare time, made one for me after we chose just the right fabric. And now I have this room in which I love to spend time. But I continually look around it, considering different positions here or there for a painting on the wall or correct “askewness” for a book. In all, I had a vision for this ideal bedroom and the elements I wanted to include, using my “visual/spatial” qualities to resolve them.

This is a fantastic poem! I'm not a fast reader, but do pick up the pace to Roald Dahl's energetic rhythm in his poetic work. The story is wonderful too. It should provide great material for my philosophy class - we're currently discussing animal rights.

The Pig

In England once there lived a big And wonderfully clever pig. To everybody it was plain That Piggy had a massive brain. He worked out sums inside his head, There was no book he hadn't read. He knew what made an airplane fly, He knew how engines worked and why. He knew all this, but in the end One question drove him round the bend: He simply couldn't puzzle out What LIFE was really all about. What was the reason for his birth? Why was he placed upon this earth? His giant brain went round and round. Alas, no answer could be found. Till suddenly one wondrous night. All in a flash he saw the light. He jumped up like a ballet dancer And yelled, "By gum, I've got the answer!" "They want my bacon slice by slice "To sell at a tremendous price! "They want my tender juicy chops "To put in all the butcher's shops! "They want my pork to make a roast "And that's the part'll cost the most! "They want my sausages in strings! "They even want my chitterlings! "The butcher's shop! The carving knife! "That is the reason for my life!" Such thoughts as these are not designed To give a pig great piece of mind. Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland, A pail of pigswill in his hand, And piggy with a mighty roar, Bashes the farmer to the floor… Now comes the rather grizzly bit So let's not make too much of it, Except that you must understand That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland, He ate him up from head to toe, Chewing the pieces nice and slow. It took an hour to reach the feet, Because there was so much to eat, And when he finished, Pig, of course, Felt absolutely no remorse. Slowly he scratched his brainy head And with a little smile he said, "I had a fairly powerful hunch "That he might have me for his lunch. "And so, because I feared the worst, "I thought I'd better eat him first." Roald Dahl

Home out West

So this is what home feels and looks like to me. It's a sketch I did of a classic and rusted, Chevy truck resting amidst a cluster of saguaros. It's western, vintage, warm, dusty, and full of character. And the name of the town is Carefree. Carefree, Arizona. When I place a mail-order over the phone, it's not unusual to hear, "Now that sounds like a nice place to live." And I live on Sunset Trail. You may say this sounds like a retirement community (and you wouldn't be the first), but I say it's one fit for people like John Wayne.

This entry is an "Of the Month" nomination I submitted for an awesome organization on campus - I'm thrilled to be involved with this group of people:

The average sixth grade classroom offers students restricting desks, dull blackboards, and a clock to count down the minutes until class is finished. The spelling tests are tedious and math assignments repetitive. Their eyes are on the clock, not on the years ahead to college. Wouldn’t that simply mean more class and more tests?

But with “Imagine U at SMU,” a newly established organization at Southern Methodist University’s Meadows Museum and School of the Arts, eyes are directed forward to college life. Their focus is also placed on the Picassos, Manets and Mirós hanging on walls instead of algebraic equations on dusty blackboards. This program welcomes sixth-graders from three Dallas schools to experience a museum, create art, and envision four years at college.

Funded by the Wachovia Foundation, buses transport more than seven-hundred students to and from SMU for three days out of each school’s year. This invitation is greatly appreciated for a financially tight school district. And the rewards are already showing after the first event last week.

“So many kids don’t understand the concept of college,” says Tamytha Smith, Education Coordinator at Meadows Museum. She claims many sixth-graders consider college a one-year experience and don’t realize students can choose their courses and a range of majors, not to mention that they even live at school! Part of the program tours these kids around the SMU campus with SMU students who share their experiences and explain the concept of college. The interaction between college and sixth-grade students is one of the most beneficial aspects. Each young student is also provided a sketchbook to draw in, write notes, and express themselves in ways unfamiliar to them before. Tamytha recalls one boy on the tour who complained about the heat. His classmate, looking up from his drawing of some university buildings and trees responded, “Can’t you just enjoy the beauty of the campus?”

In addition to capturing a piece of college life in their sketchbooks, students use them to complement the learning that takes place within the Meadows Museum and studio. The first day was structured on the portrait. Kids were allowed to explore the museum and discuss famous works of art depicting people and faces. Many have never before entered a museum. But in contrast to a typical art museum where fact after fact is dispensed at each painting, the program encourages rich discussion as students express their feelings and observations. The museum component is also intended to raise their comfort level in galleries and help them understand how relevant art is in their lives. The learning fostered in the museum transitions to studio time. Referencing the masters, students created self portraits at the first session. Everyone was encouraging and complementary, producing beautiful pieces of their own to be displayed at the organization’s final event. This event is scheduled for the end of the school year, as a culmination of the students’ learning and work together. Parents are invited to view the budding artists’ masterpieces and share in their children’s experience at SMU.

Back at their schools, sketchbooks are opened again as kids bring the knowledge and newly considered educational opportunities to class activities. “Imagine U at SMU” may last for only three days at the university, but is integrated into daily sixth-grade class time.

This unique and outstanding organization places the Meadows Museum as a link between college students and sixth-graders, forming friendships and ideas about art and school. These young students are introduced to the value of college education, art, art history, and the creation of art – fundamental aspects of life otherwise overlooked back in the classroom.