Tower of Self

On Friday, I went in and was confronted with an apology from the man who yelled at me two weeks ago. He said, if he could not forgive me, then god could not forgive him. I thought that this statement was interesting and that I too needed to work on forgiving.
I came into TAE with a project in mind. I had seen the book of activities they had last week and wanted to contribute, so i found this teacher project guide at a garage sale and in it there was an activity called tower of self:
First, trace a pattern and make this tower out of paper. Then, have the kids think about people they admire, their goals and dreams, what they are proud of right now, then you have them collage, draw, glue ect. onto the pattern.
here is what it looked like

and I finally finished my treasure box here is what it looks like. 

Kids and multiculturalism

Tonight, there were a lot of people at The Art Experience. I helped two little boys who, I believe, spoke Spanish as their primary language, make some masks. It was fun. They ended up building chairs out of a lot of glue and colorful Popsicle sticks. It was difficult communicating and their parents did most of the helping, but I gathered supplies and told them their drawings were good. It was really what I needed--some time to make art in all this crazyness and some time to spend with kids. One of them told me I smelled; it was really the Mod Podge, but he did not believe me. He also said the example mask was vomiting and he drew his mask as a face with big stitches and a lot of blood. I almost finished my treasure box, so we will see. They are due next week so hopefully I will get done. What a great night.

My first really bad experience

I missed my volunteer time Friday last week, I went to see my sister's band The Marvins play as the Stone Temple Pilots at the Crow Foot (which incidentally is where The Art Experience's Gala celebration will be held on December fourth, there will be an auction, food, music and lots of fun to be had.)
I missed the previous week and when I came in for my usual 6:30-9:00 p.m. I found that the gentlemen I was helping with the grid and the baseball player had been "helped" by the other volunteer ________.The parts that I was not there to sit with him and explain every square where drawn with a different style. I inferred that the other volunteer ______ had drawn these lines. The gentlemen who I had  to persuaded to draw his own drawing rather then use the outline which was drawn for him by another volunteer a few weeks ago, was back to letting everyone do it for him. He can't draw the detroit D on the baseball cap, no he will have ________ do it since ________ did it last time. His confidence was cut down to being dependent and he no longer wanted my help. So, I worked on  my treasure box; it is coming along quite nicely. About twenty minutes later, when the other usual client comes in to work, a young man with autism who had a show there with _______ the previous weeks, wanted to paint animals and ___________ abandoned the baseball gentleman to help the young autistic man. _________ said if you need any help, I or Sydney will be here. So the baseball gentleman comes over and wants to  know if the teeth he drew are accurate, he wanted ______ but _______ said Sydney will show you. So, I went over to help, I went back to the line for line process we where doing. I tried to explain a good way to shade with color pencil, he tried but ________ who's style is very flat has informed everyone to color things in completely so there is no white showing through. I tried to explain that this is not always the case. When shading something, it is ok to have white coming through. I tried to build up his confidence by saying you are the artist and however it looks you can be proud because you made it. He yelled at me "I don't want to talk to you." I said "If I did something to hurt your feelings I am sorry I really don't mind helping you" He said "No don't talk to me EVER again"

Some things that I am not sure about:
Am I ethically allowed to talk about the specific subject matter the client is drawing?
Should I use fake names to represent the people so my stories don't seem so hard to follow?
I am ethically against drawing on a clients paper, especially drawing for the client. I voiced my opinion of this when the supervisor came to talk to me. This situtation is hard because I felt really awful I did not know what to do.

It is hard to gauge if the outburst is because I would not draw for him, if he could sense my dissapointment in the other volunteer through my actions even though I did put on a happy face, or if it was because I missed this indiviudals birthday it was the previous week and I was at a halloween party. I think his feelings were hurt from this, and that is the root of the problem. I also was working on my treasure box rather than give him my undivided attention, so this could have also been a reason for the outburst.

Is it appropriate to make him a birthday card?
What an awful experience.

Art Show

My husband, my son and I went to the Art show opening at TAE on Sunday, there were lots of people there. The art was hung around the room and both _______ and _________ were dressed in suits. Here is a picture of Max and I very excited and on our way in.

Here is what is going on:
1. I talked to my work, they said they could donate food for the showcase on December 4th.
2. I am still working on converting the logo into an Illustrator file and presenting it to sign shops.
3. Lindsey discussed my duties and availability for the Showcase on December 4th.
4. There is an art opening at TAE on Sunday from 1-4 p.m, be there or be square.

I helped _______ we will call him Mr. W. with his baseball player. He said I could show my classmates our progress with a picture I took. I will post it as soon as I find the cord to my camera. All the other teachers were amazed that he had done such a great job without them drawing for him. I was proud because he felt so good about what he had accomplished. I don't think that anyone has ever really sat down with him and given the effort to show him, line for line, how to look at a picture and replicate it on another sheet. It's like using your eye as a tracer. Mr. W. was very amused when we drew the groin, because he thought the word groin was funny.

The poet came in today. He liked my poem. He said this is poetry, referring to my snowstorm poem. I said it was based on a dream I had, where I was an old man and my wife died. Then he left the table to talk to someone else. I need to work on asking open-ended questions. I think he is having writers block because when I asked him if he had written anything, he said he had not, and then when i suggested we collaborate he did not want to do that either. I said we missed him last week and he avoided saying what he did.

So it feels good to help someone gain some self esteem from producing art. At the same time, I would like to accomplish more.

drawing with graphs

Tonight, I volunteered my usual 6:30 p.m. til 9:00 p.m shift. It began as any other night, until I walked in and saw an oil painting of Malcolm X staring me right in the face. Another volunteer and a student are getting ready for their show at TAE on Sunday October 23rd, it should be a real cool show. I had a preview tonight. The opening reception is from 1 until 4--you guys should come on down for a real fun time in Pontiac, we could all go to Tiki Bobs after.... just kidding.
While the other volunteer and his student were working out the final painting for the show, it gave me the perfect opportunity to swoop in and help the other man who comes. He is an older man a bit slow. I'm not quite sure what his disability is. Last week, I was upset because the teacher drew his baseball player for him. So, when I came in he was trying to fix the drawing.
I asked him if he wanted some help and he said he had to ask ______ , the other volunteer. When the older man drawing the baseball player realized that _______ was busy he finally settled on me for some help. I grabbed some scrap paper and quickly laid out a grid around the border of the picture he was trying to draw. We grabbed a new piece of paper and I gridded that piece out. We were ready to start: square by square.
At this point, I began to work on my treasure box. I thought if he had any problems he would let me know....wrong. I soon looked over and I began to understand that this grid system might have been to advanced. He did not really understand spacial relativity. So I unplugged the hot glue gun scooched my chair right next to his and we took it one box at a time. I showed him how we could build the picture out of basic shapes and then, once the outline was done, we could go back in and get the details. We got about 8 squares done the whole night, but when he finally looked at the whole picture, he was really impressed with what he had drawn. The best part: it was actually his hand. I did not draw a single line on the paper for him. I discussed every single square: where he should start and end, what shapes he was drawing, and kept him focused but he did the drawing.
As for the poet he did not show up tonight, I hope everything is all right.

i decided on three poems here they are i'll let you know how it goes

Snail:

Snail you little fool

i told you already i had places to be


i said little snail


you are such a delicacy 



and then snap crack

 
i broke your perfect spiral jetty shell


and drank from it the goo


that used to be you


alive


and 


well, living?



But what is the life of a snail


carrying that weight on your back


and their is no McDonald's to go to 

(silly me trying to think that you think 
small you 
your just a snail. and i ate you right up)

Clay:

I woke up

Hands

Covered

Hands

Smothered

In earthenware

Wearing these

Hands out

Dehydrating each knuckle

Till flesh cracks

While fingers dance

Like willow whisps in wind

And in my family

Hands tell stories

Were books put words on pages

Hands flutter language across air

Using elbows as trapezes

Snowstorms in Brooklyn:

A long while passed

Before I stood

The snow fell in diagonal dotted lines

It blew in swirling flocks

And like the geese which had migrated

My legs began to bend

They gained momentum

Even with their brittle age

And the pain

Of roads traveled

When I still had you

My wife with paper-thin hands

And gentle lamb eyes

My love, laughing with her feet

And yet as I walk to the Cadillac

Only your imprint will be there

In bed, for me to come home too

As I fumble for my keys

You know how shaky my hands

Are dear

I think

Won’t it be nice when I

Reunite with you

And two new bodies

Can have the chance to grow lumps of old wrinkled skin

Skin that stretches and sags at the elbows

And still look over

In bed

At night

And see the soul in a body familiar

Who once had soft flesh

And I still reach over to touch

The space