four&twenty

Metamorphosis of a Baseball

It‘s true. I’m one of those people who do not get sports analogies. So last week, I was tickled when I noticed Søren unraveling a baseball.

The activity began when he found an old ball in the ivy. He tossed the treasure toward the lolling blue sky a few times then snuck into the work shed and emerged a few minutes later with a pocketknife. He deftly skinned the thing and was delighted to discover that its innards were a tightly wound mass of fine thread.

He spent an hour or so unwinding without an ounce of boredom. When our backyard had been properly spider-webbed, he came to the end of the fine thread and hit a layer of wound cord. He kept at the business of unwinding and was delighted to discover that at the core of the baseball were two wooden hemispheres, “Mom, look…!”

“I never knew.”

I suggested Søren make something out of the baseball components and went back to my gardening, assuming he would shrug off my suggestion. But soon after that he came to me with his summer baseball sculpture, a non-functional tropical smoothie tumbler.

Now there’s a sports analogy I can chew on.

– Kim

Matisse i Madonnari

It's become quite a tradition to usher in summer with a collective i Madonnari creation. This year's inspiration started with “The Geranium” by Henri Matisse.

From Wikipedia...

The Italian I Madonnari were itinerant artists, many of whom had been brought into the cities to work on the huge cathedrals. When the work was done, they needed to find another way to make a living, and thus would often recreate the paintings from the church onto the pavement. Aware of festival and holy days in each province and town, they traveled to join in the festivities to make a living from observers who would throw coins if they approved of the artist's work. For centuries I Madonnari were folk artists, reproducing simple images with crude materials such as tiles, coal and chalk.

Have fun creating your own sidewalk masterpiece! For a step-by-step tutorial, visit this post.

Da Vinci Summer II: Back to School

It's time to transition from DaVinci summer back-to-school.

Coming Soon...“Welcome Fall!” iMadonnari Celebration fashioned after Edward Hopper's Approaching a City, 1946.

Da Vinci Summer II: Creative Writing and The Periodic Table

A few days ago Søren shared an idea, “am going to write a story using all the letters on the periodic table.”

What in the world? After a summer of focusing on the garden—tilling earth, planting seeds, and harvesting fruit—the periodic table of the elements? But in the end, I realized that Søren's idea has everything to do with the garden.

Last year I taught chemistry in my guild to a handful of high school students. We read The Periodic Kingdom, and “journeyed through the land of chemical elements” with P.W. Atkins. We watched the periodic table. Yes, watched. This was mad science in action. Chemists from the University of Nottingham have created a short video about each of the 118 elements. Stoichiometry, polarity, and biochemistry entered our discussion, and we concocted reactions in our little make-shift lab, extracted DNA from a variety of sources. But our explorations of the table itself was most amazing. And where was Søren? The little hovering bird was gathering seeds, of course. 

So this morning, I woke up, hobbled sleepily into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, and saw our favorite coffee table acquisition from the chemistry class: The Elements: A Visual Exploration of Every Known Atom in the Universe, on the table along with a writer's toolkit—pen, paper, dictionary. 

Søren had an idea and was brave enough to engage the work, even during the last week of summer.

Thanks Leonardo.

Da Vinci Summer II: TQM in the City Garden

I've been watching our garden grow. The boys have learned so much about attention as they tend this living and growing thing. When little green tomatoes appeared they beamed with satisfaction. And when it was time for the first harvest (which was sizable for these city dwellers) I could not get them to stand still for the photo!

Since the garden was also abloom with basil and zucchini, we decided to make our first meal, Italian-esque. We can dream Tuscany, right? 

We set a pot on the stove and waited for the water to boil for the pasta. Meanwhile, we chopped tomatoes and basil and sauteed them in olive oil and a pinch or two of salt. We let the harvest settle into flame just long enough to wilt the vegetables. Then we put the chunky goodness into our food mill and cranked until the base for our sauce emerged.

We poured the tomato basil puree into a sauce pan, reduced it slightly, and added some cream. We served this over our pasta with grilled slices of homegrown zucchini on the side.

Trust me, this was a first for our family.

Seed. Earth. Water. Sun.

Galvanized trash containers and a front yard planter converted to a vegetable garden.

My boys are still amazed.

– Kim

Da Vinci Summer II: Spontaneity

Sir Ken Robinson has all sorts of ideas about creativity:

“You can be imaginative all day long and never do anything.”

“To be creative you have to do something.”

He defines imagination as, “...the process of having original ideas that have value.”

Creativity is is the work of bringing an imagination to shape.

Perfectionism and procrastination have the power to silence an idea by simply stopping imagination in its tracks. I've seen it happen over and over and over again. So has Sir Ken:

“If you’re not prepared to be wrong, you’ll never come up with anything original.”

As a mom and educator, I design opportunities for creativity to occur on a daily basis. Other times—and I am thankful for these moments—spontaneity does the work for me.

Last week my two youngest sons, Liam and Søren, spent the day at the office with Uncle Brian who gave them a challenge: Make something.

He provided:
• Gaffer's Tape
• Bubble Wrap
• Zip Ties

And they spent the next couple hours creating.

They marched into the house that evening beaming with pride in their accomplishment.

Thanks Uncle Brian.

PS-I couldn't help but notice some whisperings of you-know-who in their creations!

Da Vinci Summer II: Play

Words are great! We collect them.

Yesterday, before lunch, we played one of our favorite word games in the garden, Quiddler. And then, later in the day, we played another favorite, Scrabble, in the living room because a note to self reminded me to, “Play more games.”

Da Vinci Summer II: Sidewalk Masterpiece

Van Gogh chimes in, celebrating Da Vinci Summer II:
"Great things are done by a series of small things brought together."

Can't make it to the art museum this summer? Well, create your own museum at home!

This is a perfect impromptu activity for the patio or driveway. All you need is space, inexpensive sidewalk chalk, a box of chalk pastels in a lovely range of colors...and a bunch of friends.

What's great about this project is that you get to own an original installation of art until you decide to have the artists close the exhibition with a few squirts of the hose!

Step 1
Prepare the surface using inexpensive sidewalk chalk. We used white because Van Gogh's sunflowers are bright.

Step 2
Draw what you see. This is a terrific opportunity to practice observation skills.

Step 3
Color in the negative space (the background). Begin with colors slightly darker than the painting you are copying. This will add depth to the finished work.


Step 4
Begin to fill in the details. As you do, be sure to experiment with colors. Don't use a single color. Use a range of analogous colors (colors that are neighbors on a color wheel) to simulate the rich layering that a painter such as Van Gogh might use.

Step 5
Layer and layer until your composition is complete.

Step 6
Make some lemonade and invite the neighborhood to your very own street painting festival.

Most of all... enjoy the process!

Da Vinci Summer II: Book of 100 Heads

Last week Søren decided to copy a Van Gogh drawing. He pulled out a sketchbook, sharpened some pencils and spent an hour studying line and texture, shape and value.

The result is stunning.

This reminded me of the wonderful creative journey my friend Sandra set her son, Joshua, on a challenge to “Draw 100 Faces.”

And so, the challenge is on. Only for Søren, the challenge verbiage has been transformed, “Make a book. Not just any book. Make a book of 100 heads.”

Some of the heads will be studies of famous artist’s drawings. He started with Van Gogh. He moved on to Paul Klee. Tomorrow he might try Da Vinci.

Some of the heads will be drawings from life. Today Søren drew himself.

But some of the heads will be straight from Søren’s imagination. These are the drawings I am especially looking forward to.

The goal is a drawing a day for 100 days.

And the reward?

Why, the book of course.

– Kim

Da Vinci Summer II: TQM

We celebrate my husband’s birthday as June comes to a close each year.

This year we gathered round the table the same as always. The conversation was giddy, no… the conversation was slapstick throughout dinner until it was time to clear the plates.

Tradition dictates that the plates be cleared, then the presents opened, then dessert. But once the dishes were cleared, dad slipped in a soliloquy into the mix. Not too long, not too short. The speech was just right.

“You know what Leonardo da Vinci believed? He believed, ‘Being willing is not enough, we must do.’”

“You know what I want for my birthday, and you don’t even have to wrap it?”

“TQM”

“In the real world TQM stands for Total Quality Management.”

“Remember when we stood in front of Mona Lisa in the Lourve?”

“I think she smiles because Leonardo understood TQM.”

“TQM is attention to detail.”

“TQM requires active action.”

“You are good kids. You are always willing ‘to do’ when your mom and I ask.”

“But are you willing to build a ‘habit of doing’ when we don’t ask?”

“Imagine the time that would be leftover each day if attention to detail went into, not only folding socks together in pairs, but dropping them into the sock drawer instead of in the hall on the way to the bedroom!”

“TQM”

He left them with a TQM challenge from Leonardo himself, "As you cannot do what you want, want what you can do"

The table got quiet. My husband has a way with words.

After a moment of silence, the room was littered with wrapping paper confetti and the celebration continued with presents and a homemade angel food cake.

But the stage was set for the 2nd Annual Da Vinci Summer to begin.

– Kim

Industrial Animation

Back in the summer of 2003, I took my children to Modigliani & the Artists of Montparnasse at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Sketchbook and pencil in hand, I patted each of them on the back and set them free to explore the works as they saw fit. I love observing the creative process. I felt fortunate to wander with them among works that we have admired from afar in books and on the web.

The exhibition, a collection of works by Modigliani, his friends, and contemporaries, might have been better titled “Conversations from Montparnasse” because the collection was a reunion of works developed long ago in a bohemian Paris neighborhood. I was excited to see how my children would join the conversation.

My oldest son Taylor was nine. He had been studying piano for a bit more than a year, but seemed at the time more interested in visual art. Three works captured his imagination at this exhibit: Dancer, Second Version by Sonia Delauney 1916, Black Hair (Young Seated Girl With Brown Hair), Modigliani, and The City, Fernand Leger 1919. These are the works he decided to study. I watched him study and sketch the first two carefully. When he came to the third, Leger’s painting, he simply stood there, soaking the image into his imagination.

Later that day I heard Taylor plunking away on the piano, but didn’t give it much thought until this past spring when he won a competition for an original piano composition and had to write program notes:   

Industrial Animation, a composition for piano by Taylor Bredberg

The story behind this piece began seven years ago after visiting an exhibit, Modigliani and the Art of Montparnasse and after watching a set of short films called Masters of Russian Animation. Here I learned to appreciate industrial beauty and fell in love with the dissonance of Russian music that inspired the main melody. The next part of the journey is very dull considering that the melody sat dormant until recently. In a moment of composer’s block I began to sift through some of my older sketches and came upon the melody. It was unrefined but still had something to it, so I took to it and started working. Prokofiev and Shostakovich, being two of my favorite composers, heavily influenced its mood and shape. Soon enough, along with four brand new melodies, the work is finished, an Industrial Animation at last.

Industrial Animation

Da Vinci’s sketchbooks come to mind, page after page teaming with elaborate ideas, “Art is never finished only abandoned.” All those years ago when we visited the LACMA exhibit Taylor was simply encouraged to abandon some of his ideas into a little sketch book.

Guess it was worth the trip to the local art museum.

– Kim

Da Vinci Summer – Mona Lisa

To culminate our Da Vinci Summer, everyone lent a hand in the creation of a larger-than-life i Madonnari Mona Lisa. Such a fun way to create art together! Here's our process in pictures...

Ideas First

Just got home from Waiting for Superman. Great film. I am reminded that the recipe for academic success still lies with the individual.

When I first saw the trailer, Sherman Alexie’s essay, “Superman and Me” came to mind. After viewing the film, a connection emerged. Where Waiting for Superman reminds us that an overwhelming majority of children are “not accepted” to successful public schools and leaves our hope dashed, “Superman and Me” picks up the pieces reminding us that the system cannot stop the individual from picking up a book and doing the work of developing a Habit of Being.   

This movie brilliantly reminds us that reform within the public system is happening in pockets all over our nation and leaves me grateful for those reformers. But it also leaves me with an image of all the children who will shrivel because they do not have Bingo Ball 78 glowing in the palm of their little hand.

The reality is that there are wide-open plains outside of the system waiting for Lewis and Clark—perhaps the sequel?

Reform Lewis and Clark style.

A voyage of discovery.

As an educator, I for one realized a long time ago I couldn’t wait for Superman any longer. I encourage my students to slip on the Superman suit before they begin each day, reminding them Alexie style: “The suit will save your life!” Geoffrey Canada's mother may be right, Superman is not real, but every child has talents equal to Superman's power—the gift of numbers, the gift of humor, the gift of words, the gift of song, the gift of compassion... an endless list.

“Art is never finished, only abandoned,” according to the Renaissance sage Leonardo da Vinci

So what has art to do with a movie about the state of education in America?

Absolutely everything.

One thing this film fails to examine is the need to move beyond the workforce preparation model of education by addressing the deeper individual needs that are ignored in mass education. How can we provide opportunities for our children to develop Critical Creative Thinking if we starve individuality?

Leonardo da Vinci left us tremendous insight into his work habits. He knew first hand that, “it is easier to resist at the beginning than at the end,” still he painstakingly collected thousands of his ideas in sketchbooks, most of which would never be fully realized. But I will venture to say there is not one who would dare call him a slacker. There are academic skills that do not fall under the Three Rs umbrella—think rigor, resourcefulness, responsibility.

When my daughter Hannah was 10 she began working at Debussy’s Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum on the piano. One afternoon while I was scrubbing pots and pans in the kitchen, listening as she delicately worked through each new section, I called out, “Is that the Debussy?” 

“No this is mine.”

I dropped the pot back into sudsy water, quickly wiped my hands, and walked to the piano, “Your piece?”

“Yes.”

“Play it for me…” and she did, jubilantly, without hesitation. Hannah was composing.

When Hannah turned 13 things began to change. She began to depend on notes more than her ear. Simultaneous to her sight-reading ability moving into the bilingual realm, she became insecure with her creative voice. No amount of coaxing would console the teenage composer to come out of hiding. She wanted to create, but in her mind her ideas never sounded just right. Hannah became paralyzed by perfectionism.

Over the course of the next few years I presented opportunities and encouraged her to engage in the process of creating. I reminded her that creating something happens with little steps that begin with an idea, “Remember Da Vinci…’Art is never finished only abandoned’.”

Fast forward, two years ago an 18-year-old Hannah composed a piece for piano and charanga that involved more conversation, more tears, and more hugs than hands on the keys and pencil to staff paper. The fact that the project was to be submitted for a competition made the work real but ultimately Hannah’s prize was persevering through the process of developing an idea even if the idea failed.

I will never forget her beaming smile the day we played back the final mixed recording of Empty Halls. The composition did not win a prize in the competition that year, but did receive encouraging notes back from the adjudicators. The notes were more valuable to Hannah than a cash prize. Empty Halls whispers in Hannah's ear to this day: “Keep working at your craft. You ARE a composer.”

Empty Halls

A year later one of Hannah’s poet friends was collaborating with my son, Taylor, on a film they were to submit to a competition and asked Hannah permission to use Empty Halls as the music for the film. She granted permission. The film won regional recognition from the Scholastic Arts and Writing Awards competition.

 

This past year, Hannah composed a film score for a competition sponsored by the Music Teacher’s Association of California. There were a few bumpy tear-filled stretches, but she persevered through the creative process with very little coaching. Hannah’s film score won first place in her division.

Yesterday my 20-year-old daughter came home from a day of practicing music and handed me her phone, “I started a new composition.”

Marimba

“An abandoned idea?”

“Yes. Tear free.”

I think this might be what Sherman Alexie means when he locks arms with Superman.

Waiting for Superman begins with a challenge to “take a leap of faith” and ends with the charge to muster the “fortitude to make different decisions” for our children. Perhaps its time to walk with mere mortals, time to learn from Lewis and Clark that the journey has to be made on foot.

- Kim

Da Vinci Summer – Onward

I’m not sure how many years have passed since Sara, Evelyn, Hannah and I participated in iMadonnari but I will never forget the experience. We packed a picnic, slathered on the sunscreen, and set out with our bucket of chalk into the unknown. When we arrived at our designated rectangle of road, Sara and I exchanged blank stares, caught our breath. The reality of our lofty goal to transform asphalt to canvas, translate a Renoir to chalk pastel was coming into focus.

We prepped our surface by painting a layer of crushed pastel mixed to a loose paste with water. We chose a pale blue-green value to begin. The pavement was warm so the pastel base dried quickly. Next we gridded off the area to match the grid lines we made on the laminated color copy of the Renoir that the girls would have to work from—preparation is key. These two steps made the process so easy for our girls. Laying the base coat of pastel paste smoothed the surface and helped the subsequent layers of color pop. Helping the girls break the painting down to gridded off parts made the drawing manageable.

The street painting took around five hours to complete. I am pretty sure Hannah and Evelyn never complained once, never uttered the dreaded “B” phrase (“I’m BORED”) because this activity was academic in the true sense… yes, academic. During all those hours I watched the girls merrily engage in scholarship, watched them navigate geometric spatial relationships, engage in complex problem solving, learn about color theory, and make intricate observations. All these years later I can say with certainty that participating in iMadonnari was one of those rare bird’s eye perspective experiences that gave Hannah and Evelyn a hands-on opportunity to be mentored by a creative thinker, Renoir himself.

It has been great this summer focusing on the life work of Leonardo da Vinci with my children and trying to bring something of the Renaissance Man’s philosophy of education into our realm of reality. Looking back on summer and reminiscing gives me an idea. Today school resumes. I’ve decided to begin the year with Leonardo. Why does Leonardo da Vinci have to be limited to summer? After all he reminds me, “For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return.”

My favorite phrase comes to mind, “I have an idea.” What about transitioning from Da Vinci Summer to school by celebrating Leonard iMadonnari style? Yes!

Coming soon: Mona Lisa!

Da Vinci Summer – Trash Force 141!

We moved to the city when my boys were toddlers. I shed tears in sessions, endured a hefty dose of grief. During one particular session, being a forward thinker (worrywart), I heaved gut-wrenching sobs for the loss of freedom to roam the countryside that my three sons, then toddlers, would experience.

We’ve been city dwellers for seven years. My boys aren’t toddlers anymore and, it’s true, they don’t have the freedom to step outside their backdoor to explore green roaming hills or wide open fields. But they do have a neighborhood and they do have bikes. Still, in the city we have rules. So they are free to roam as long as they stay together within pre-determined neighborhood boundaries. And they have to check in every hour…

“Mom!”

“M-o-m!”

I get on my feet fast when I hear two moms in a row!

“Mom, today is TF141!!!”

I relax, “TF141?”

“You know… Trash Force 141!”

It began with a blow up raft, the kind you use in country ponds or on lakes. We live near the beach, but this is certainly not an ocean raft. I suggested it might make a fun pool raft.

“No mom, can we blow it up and use it in the studio?”

“…O-k-a-y, sure, of course.” Why not? Imagination is, I reminded myself, more important than open fields.

The next hour Søren and Liam came home with a wooden sword and the hour after that it was a life-sized Sponge Bob costume.

I thought I had seen it all, but later that day when I began closing down shop— putting Legos and colored pencils and bike helmets in their proper place—I found an old backpack I had never seen before and an empty suitcase! I took a deep breath and prayed that our family was not going to become the neighborhood refuse-sorting center. I would give it a week or so, surely the novelty would wear off.

That night after dinner—the hour when activity shifts to quiet mode—I kept hearing a faint music box playing. I chalked it off to Taylor composing something on Logic. But then Søren came into the room with the head of a toy zebra impaled on a wooden skewer. He began to explain that the object is part of an idea brewing inspired by Leonardo da Vinci.

Turns out the creepy music box melody was Taylor composing. He had rescued the music box that was once tucked inside the stuffed zebra and was in the studio recording it to incorporate into a composition.

One man’s trash is another boy’s treasure! I’m so glad my boys can be boys.