Into the Labyrinth with Clay, Beads and Wire

After noticing how much the children enjoyed the 'gluing and sticking'- the 'making' with actual tactile materials in their hands, I thought about how much they'd enjoy clay. As I am not very experienced with clay, I did a bit of research and this session was actually inspired by a blog post on An Everyday Story- 'Using clay: bead and wire sculptures'. I loved the idea of adding these 'loose-parts' to the clay which would allow for plenty of creativity and discovery.

In the post, the author mentions 'bead-coasters' or 'bead-mazes'. This led me onto procrastinating about mazes in general, and how much wonder they tend to stir up in children. I used to love going to those hedge-mazes at stately homes and imagining I was in all sorts of worlds.

I wanted to start the session with a story. Stories seem to be such a great bridge into the 'creative zone', springing imaginations into life. I was reminded of the Greek Myth- 'Ariadne's Thread' which is about a Minotaur waiting for sacrifices in the depths of a tangled maze, and the brave soldier who finally slays him, but I thought it was too scary and complicated to read to the children. 

However, my mind kept wondering back to this maze of tangled passages, so I re-wrote the myth, leaving out the parts about Poseidon and his white bull, and glossing over the parts about 'sacrifices', instead concentrating on how Ariadne helped Theseus escape the labyrinth with a ball of red thread.

Clutching his red thread, Theseus delved deeper and deeper into the maze. The labyrinth was dark, and there were many different paths he could choose from. Some routes were very narrow and he had to squeeze his way through. Others were so overgrown with thorns and brambles that he had to cut his way through with his sword.

After I finished telling the tale (whilst clutching my real ball of red thread), I gave each child a ball of clay and pointed out the piles of beads and wire on the table. My photography doesn't do these justice, but this is what they made:

'This is the red thread from the story to help you get out'

I love how this child made the beads leave textured paths to where they sit.

'How can I balance this (the pine cone) on top of this (wire form)?'

A Case against Instructions. Vaivén Circo- 'Do Not Disturb'

This weekend, I was lucky enough to watch Vaivén Circo's 'Do Not Disturb' as part of Appetite's 'The Homecoming', a free event in Newcastle Under-Lyme. In this theatrical performance, four characters were tasked to build a machine without any instructions and without any idea what it was supposed to look like. 

During the show, they worked together to arrange the 'loose parts' in all sorts of different ways, solving risky problems of balance and counter-balance. They used their imaginations to turn these arrangements into exiting adventures such as a boat on the sea, a horse they could ride, and all sorts of balancing games. They were playful and inventive. 

Like child's play, the audience wasn't always sure of the characters' intentions. 

Towards the end, one character begin to dance around in circles, chalk in hand, swooping, drawing arcs on the floor. This seemed to spur on the idea to fit the parts together like a wheel. To the audience, this seemed like it may have been the finale- they made The Wheel, the final product, the 'Most Important Invention in History', but the character's had other ideas. The 'wheel' was turned into a magnificent Ferris Wheel. They cheered and laughed. It was fun. This was not the end.

The characters then went onto improve the wheel, adding extra parts, bits of metal and scaffolding, making the 'wheel' look more like a kind of spinning top. The grand finale was to use the 'spinning top' to crack nuts for their lunch, which was surprising and rather unexpected!

This performance spoke to me to the heart. It reiterated that how by giving children instructions, or showing them the 'correct' way to do something, we can undermine their creativity. Instructions can suck the fun out of play and prevent inventiveness and initiative. 

I strive to remember this in my work. Never concentrate on the 'product'. If I have an agenda, I try to remember that my agenda may not the same as the child's agenda. My ideas are not superior. Creativity can only flourish with freedom.  

Charcoal Hands and Smiling Faces

I promised to write about the other things we got up to last term at Art Play, so here goes.

For my first session, I planned to take the children outside to do some 'plein air' sketching. I wanted to do something completely different to what they were used to, find a new comfort zone. I bought packs of dark, black compressed charcoal that  I thought were quite open-ended and had plenty of opportunity for different mark-making techniques.

Unfortunately, it was heavily raining on the day, so we had to make do with looking out of large patio doors, which took away some of the effect. Drawing inside is nothing like drawing outside. There are no birds to hear, no whispering trees, no cold earth to feel (or smudge into your work). We carried on regardless- I told the children to do eight or so quick sketches, concentrating on the marks in the landscape, the lines and patterns that caught their interest; not to worry about accuracy or doing a 'perfect' copy.

We used watercolour pencils to add hints of colour and then chopped the work up, looking for interesting compositions, and stuck it down in make-shift sketch books. The children enjoyed experimenting with an unfamiliar media, and they liked having their own 'sketch-books'; I think it made them proud. 

However, I completely underestimated the mess- we had black-charcoal hands, arms, faces, clothes, tables and chairs. I quickly went out to buy suitable table coverings for next time, and made a mental note about something to do with aprons. I suppose at least they looked like they'd had fun, I always think that if you go home with paint on your clothes, then you must have had a good day, because you've been doing art. 

A New Venture

Following on from the success of the Beehive Festival, I decided to bite the bullet and begin my art club at school- Art Play. I wanted to create an environment for the children where they were free to experiment and just enjoy using the materials in their own way with no expectations and no agendas.

It has been really hard to strike a balance between directive instruction and imagination. I have found that the children really need a starting point to set their creativity flowing. It's hard to come up with that starting point whilst losing or ignoring the 'agenda'.

I have found, by accident (the best ideas always seem to be accidents), that a successful starting point seems to be telling a story at the beginning and then allowing the children to use the materials in any way they wish within a wide boundary. A story spurs the imagination on and also calms the class at the end of a long school day, easing the transition.

The first story I used (which I came across by accident on the morning of the last class of term) was 'The Wonder' by Faye Hanson. In 'The Wonder', a boy with a suppressed, but lively imagination finds himself in his art class with a blank piece of paper. 'Use your imagination,' the teacher says. He finds it hard at first, but then wonderful things emerge- 'his daydreams are set free' and 'they take off across the page... over a park where no one keeps off the grass...'

So as it was a sunny day, I took several picnic blankets into school, and we all sat in the shade under the trees on field and I read the children the story. When we got back to the classroom, a blank piece of paper was waiting in each child's place and I told them to 'use their imagination' like in the story. I also put other materials out- scrap paper, card shapes, scissors, glue, tissue paper and chalk pastels. It was amazing- there was silence as the children were engrossed in their work. They imagined 'a colourful lake', an 'underpants cleaning machine,' a 'house with an outside with a picture on the wall' and some children enjoyed using the stapler to make books. It was wonderful- masses of coloured sticky bits, each piece of work unique.

That was what those children needed that day- a calm, inspiring beginning, paper, scissors, a bit of glue, and the freedom to make what they wanted.

When I get chance, I will share the other things we got up to last term (and this term), the challenges I had, and the revelations.

'Alike'- My Response. Sense of Wonder.

Today, I watched this short animation called Alike. This is my response:

‘Technically- accomplished artists are two a penny in any period.' G.P. in John Fowles 'The Collector'.

 One can’t be taught how to become a ‘great artist’; it has to come from within. In the novel, The Collector by John Fowles, Miranda takes some of her work to show her lover. His reaction was that 'they're not much good'. He stated that a ‘picture is like a window straight through to your inmost heart. And all you’ve done here is build a lot of little windows on to a heart full of other fashionable artists’ paintings. You’re saying something here about a Nicholson or a Pasmore. Not about yourself. You’re using a camera. You’re photographing here. That’s all.’ What I interpret from this is that Miranda builds her work for the desire for it to be 'liked', by founding it on 'fashionable' work, by following the trend, the rules. The outcome might be technically good, but it's not original and it's not true to herself, it doesn't show a 'sense of wonder'. It feels as though Miranda has forgotten how to truly express herself without a 'Pleasing Others Mask'. This amnesia stems from years at art school, learning from the 'masters' and perfecting the techniques of others. She can now either 'unlearn' or carry on as she is, living under the shadows of others.

This leads back to the animation where we see, literally, the spark of life being shepherded out of the child. We see the father enabling this, enforcing even. He's not happy about it, but follows the rules. I don't think he's even sure what he's unhappy about. Almost too late, it takes looking through the eyes of his child to finally 'see'. To remember. To 'unlearn'. We see his colour, his 'spark' return. What if this spark was never lost in the first place? What would the world look like then? How can we enable our children to keep this 'spark', this 'sense of wonder'? How can we relearn our own 'sense of wonder'? The answer is obvious when you think about it- the children- we need to stop, slow down and look through their eyes. Trust.

            

Beehive: A Buzzy Little Festival for Children

Something exiting is happening next weekend.

I am taking part in a gorgeous little festival called Beehive which is running alongside the Leek Food & Drink festival. Beehive is a celebration of our immediate natural environment. There will be wonderful, magical storytelling and fun music to join in with and maybe have a little dance! You will also be able to go wild with messy food-play and make lovely little habitats for butterflies and bees amongst other exiting things.

I will be joining the fun in the Foxlowe garden in my little Bell Tent where you can help me discover exiting ways of making 'paint' from natural materials and use it to create your own mini- masterpieces. Or just play with it... invent new colours, paint with a brush, a stick or even with your toes. Can you paint with your eyes closed? 

This Little has the toe painting covered...

Oh, and a note to myself: glass ramekins smash into a thousand never-to-be-found pieces when thrown joyfully across a tiled floor.

A long- expected update

A long- expected update: 

I'm back, or at least I think I'm back. I have spent two and a half years procrastinating and I can't guarantee I won't go and procrastinate some more but for the moment I am on a creative roll.

Last time I wrote, I had just put up two paintings in the lovely Napoli. I was supposed to go and put up some sort of information sign with my details on, but I never got round to it and for two years The Napoli had some nice Mystery Artwork on their walls. Then one day, I walked past and they were GONE! Obviously they hadn't been sold, as no one would have known they were for sale, so I called by and collected them. Although I thought they looked quite nice in there, I was relieved to have my paintings back- at last now I could cross that 'labelling' task off my to-do list and my mum was rather attached to 'Shutlingsloe' anyway (she used to dine there regularly to admire it).

On the other hand, when questioned about how I was doing with my 'art', I could no longer enthusiastically answer with 'I have work up in The Napoli'. That's when I realised I had been putting off taking labels in for over two years and that I hadn't so much looked at a sketchbook in all of that time because taking the labels in was at the top of my 'Art To Do List' and I couldn't do any new painting or networking until that was done. I also had another baby, which probably hasn't helped. He's so beautiful though. Who needs paintings?

Anyway, now I'm back in the creative spirit, wouldn't it be wonderful if I could say I'm going to do copious amounts of work and fill up some galleries and plan some exhibitions? Oh and do some craft stalls and perhaps take part in the Wirksworth Festival. I could start up my own Art Workshops and open a little shop. Or a big shop. Maybe my shop could also be a tea room and I could bake cakes and make little sandwiches for people to nibble on whilst they leisurely browse the gallery. I could even do baking classes for children- they could decorate gingerbread men whilst their parents sip tea and take in the creative energy from the art on the walls. Hang on, I'm procrastinating again.