Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Thinking for Ourselves - American Education and Political Issues


My website designer is a Long Island woman, honest, blunt, and thoughtful.

She remarked that she was afraid for “our future,” because of what she sees as emotional debates on both sides of the fence - on important, complicated issues.

We agreed that many people seemed to enter debates on important issues and jump straight to bumper sticker slogans, emotionalism, and fast solutions –
as though complicated problems with long histories will yield to a shotgun approach.

Our country was founded on the premise of an educated, thinking population of free people. I’ve been reading “Lincoln’s Battle With God: A President’s Struggle With Faith and What It Meant For America,” by Stephen Mansfield. The book has me wondering, how well do we Americans think and reason today?

The passage that struck me most forcibly was an explanation of the educational environment in Lincoln’s time. Here’s the excerpt:

“We should remember that the early English settlers in the New World left England accompanied by fears that they would pursue their “errand into the wilderness” and become barbarians in the process. Loved ones at home wondered how a people could cross an ocean and live in the wild without losing their literacy, the learning, and the faith that defined them. The early colonists came determined to defy these fears. They brought books, printing presses, and teachers with them and made the founding of schools a priority...The American colonists were so devoted to education – inspired as they were by their Protestant insistence upon biblical literacy and by their hope of converting and educating the natives – that they created a near-miraculous culture of learning.

This was achieved through an educational free market. Colonial society offered “Dame schools,” Latin grammar schools, tutors for hire, what would today be called “home schools,” church schools, schools for the poor, and colleges for the gifted and well-to-do. Enveloping these institutions of learning was a wider culture that prized knowledge as an aid to godliness…

The intellectual achievements of colonial America were astonishing. Lawrence Cremin, dean of American education historians, estimated the literacy rate of the period at between 80 and 90 percent. Benjamin Franklin taught himself five languages and was not thought exceptional... George Washington was unceasingly embarrassed by his lack of formal education, and yet readers of his journals today marvel at his intellect and wonder why he ever felt insecure. It was nothing for a man – or in some cases a woman – to learn algebra, geometry, navigation, science, logic, grammar, and history entirely through self-education…instruction which might take place in a log classroom and on a dirt floor…”

If the bulk of our citizenry doesn’t have the patience or discipline to work though complicated knowledge or thought processes on our own, where does that leave us in governing ourselves through our political process in America?

I understand why my friend is fearful – hers is a legitimate concern.

Friday, July 4, 2008

Why do I have to have a "Style"?


I had one of those wake-up moments this week and realized I've been fixated on pinning down my "style" for the last few years - ever since I opened my studio. There's this idea floating out there that an artist, to be commercially sucessful, must have a recognizable style.

Picasso not withstanding, this is probably true.

But as somebody who has played with "styles" practically my whole life, it seems a little confining. And lately, kind of suffocating.

I've been reading John Carlson's masterpiece book (Carlson's Guide to Landscape Painting), and I found a passage about style that made sense to me.

"The style in painting, as in writing, is spontaneously developed. You can use "thick" paint or "thin" paint; you can "stain" your canvas according to your personal feeling about it. It is what you are going to "say" on the canvas that is all important, not how you are going to put on the paint or handle the thing."

When I read this I felt a great weight come off of me. I looked around at my bright, ultra detailed watercolors, my monochromatic, soft-edged landscapes. And they all look like me.

I guess somebody will have to sort out my "style" later : )


Friday, May 16, 2008

Painting Wildflowers


Last year back in September I decided I was going to record Georgia native wildflowers in a series of paintings. This sounded like a nice relaxing project that would take me outside with my sketchbook. I think I was picturing a leisurely pace of drawing, alternating with taking a few snapshots up close.

I kind of forgot how fast spring unrolls. When April arrived, it seemed like there were new wildflowers erupting everywhere, every day, and I felt like I was racing just to document them before they subsided into the forest floor for another year. The pages of my sketchbook were filling up (along with the memory chip on my camera).

Now that the spring rush is slowing, I'm in my studio part of each day, sketches and photos spread out on my work table and pinned on my bulletin board. It's hard to know where to start.

But i have this sort of anticipatory glow thinking about the paintings I'm going to do - like waiting for Christmas to come.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Field of Memory


When we were kids it was acceptable for a ten year old to wander outside. We were encumbered with neither chaperone nor schedule. One such morning thirty years ago I found myself following a dirt road in the woods. As the road turned a corner, it came out of the trees, and I suddenly stood before the most beautiful field I had ever seen.

It was a vast expanse of clover, rippling green and all in bloom. Dozens of little yellow butterflies danced and hovered over the purple blossoms. To my child eyes it seemed like a magic place, a place outside the Earth I knew.

The memory returned to me last month along a rural road. As I looked beyond the field to a wide blue sky, I felt a return to that childnood delight. It's a bittersweet, piercing happiness we all recognize - a yearning for the Eternal that seems to lie just beyond our reach.