Final: Grandaddy

Here is the link to the blog post. As you can tell from the picture, I still need to finish the hair and background, but I wanted to get you enough to get in a grade. Cat is helping me collect ideas and materials to get as much work done towards Capstone as possible. This one should be fairly complete by the time I leave. Thanks for giving me a little extra time. This past week was insane.

Blogpost

Mountains

During this art seminar I enjoyed the art I saw in every reading, but the one I liked the most was our first reading A Meditation of Fire. I felt a huge connection between James Watkins and Texas that I decided I wanted to do something similar to what he did. His vision and sensitiveness to nature was so powerful that I felt I needed to learn to appreciate nature more.  

When I moved to Lubbock I found out that one of the things I missed the most from back home were the mountains. I lived in Juarez until I was 14, then moved to El Paso so I have always been near mountains. Another thing that influenced my final project are the Guadalupe Mountains, every time I go back home I have to go through those mountains and I can assure you those are one of the most beautiful views I have ever seen. Mountains in my personal point of view are wonders and full of meaning. I see mountains as a representation of our own life, it takes so much to get to the top (time, willingness, effort etc..) but once you get to the top there is a sense of freedom and you are so proud of how far you have come. For my final project I decided to build something that represented the mountains that are important in my life as of today.  

Since I am an architecture student I decided to make a model since it is something very important in my life. I made a cardboard model that starts from higher to lower representing going from Juarez to El Paso, from El Paso to Guadalupe Mountains and from Guadalupe Mountains to Lubbock. So basically as I get closer to Lubbock the mountains disappear. The brown cardboard represents the earth and the paths you have to take to get to the mountains and the white is meant to represent the mountains and my personal goals (which is to eventually get to the top of the mountain). 

"May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds." Edward Abbey

Homeland

My first two figurative attempts were not working for me.  I first tried using Tinkercad, to create a 3D sculpture, but I am not experienced enough making figures. The failed and abandoned Tinkercad file is figure 1.  I found out polymer clay is not my thing.  Abandoned polymer clay projectk, See figure 2.  None of those I could get to speak to my identity, although it could probably be achieved with more experience, patience, and time. 

This piece is titled, Homeland.   It is a file for a 3D print, see figure 3.  My identity has everything to do with where I am from, where I have been and the migrations of my ancestors.

The heart is for the Rio Grande Valley where my parents were born, where my ancestors settled to, and where I spend most of my childhood and currently live (although I am in school in Lubbock).  The RGV is my home.  But I was born in a suburb of Chicago, as were all my sisters.  My dad worked at a steel mill, was an auxiliary police officer, a paralegal, and tax processor, and my mom was a full-time care giver, and still is.  When he retired we went back to the RGV.  My sisters moved to the Valley, but the Chicago girl in them never left them.  I was too young to be a Chicago girl.

My maiden name is Alvarado.  I’ve been doing genealogy for almost four years.  I have dipped as far back as the late 1600’s and early 1700’s on some lines.  I have a method for this research, and I triple check my facts.  I have listed all my grandfathers and grandmothers that I have unearthed and put them across Texas, and I included my parents. See closeup in figure 4.  That is four years of research.  I have the spiritual belief that we carry ancestral memory.  Texas was Northern Mexico, and before it was Mexico it was indigenous land.  For hundreds of years my ancestors lived in Nuevo Leon Mexico.  That is what the NL stands for.  They were campesinos, laborers, and perhaps they couldn’t leave.  During the turmoil of the Mexican Revolution, they decided to migrate to the Rio Grande Valley, where they could find work. 

I wish I could find and identify the indigenous peoples that I come from.  If I had to guess, it would be either Coahuiltecan or Comocrudo, or Chichimec.  However, the Spanish effectively eradicated them in Nuevo Leon and throughout.  It’s hard to tell, but the only thing I came close to in my search is “raza indigena blanca.”  That translates to indigenous race, but white.  According to Chicana poet Carmen Tafolla, this meant that they were mixed with enough Spanish to function in society, as opposed to those with stronger indigenous genetics. 

Across Texas I placed Alvarado, my maiden name, right in the spot Lubbock would be.  I’ve probably stated this before, but last fall I found out my great grandfathers Marciano had died in Tahoka, Texas in 1941.  I knew he had died while he was working, as they were migrant workers following the cotton harvest.  I had no idea that he died near Lubbock.   This had a profound effect on me.  I feel like I am here because of the sacrifices that my ancestors made to make a better life for their children.  My dad, had a dream of being a lawyer, but got drafted and never got to finish his degree.   So I think of my ancestors when I drive to and from Lubbock honoring their struggle.  The “Alvarado” is the signature of my great grandpa Marciano on his WW I draft registration card when he crossed in 1918 with his family to make a new life in the RGV. See figure 5.

I left my project to print on Friday, but the print would take over four hours.  The printing lab is closed on Saturdays.  I have included a clip when it began printing. 

Fig. 1 Tinkercad figure.  

Fig. 2 Polymer clay sculpture.  

Fig. 3 3D Print in printing software.  

Fig. 4 Ancestors names on 3D print.  

Fig. 5 My great-grandfather's signature. 

Video clip of Homeland being printed. 

Classified ...

"Classified" is a photographic series depicting discrimination in various forms. The disturbance of being "graded" on the basis of origin, the color of skin and gender, in the western world, left a deep impact on my life. It shows the journey, starting with a deep desire to be recognized, trying to blend in, the fight for equal opportunity, the need to prove significance and the search for identity. The idea of struggling to break free from the constraints of pre-conceived notions, which would, outweighs merits.  

Anywhere on This Road

Because film is the art form closest to my heart, I chose to think at this project as to a very short film, composed of scenes of my life. And because writing about film is what I usually do, I wrote about it. I hope you will be able to see it as it was intended. The numbers in front of each paragraph represent my age when every scene took place. There is no specific order, they are just glimpses from my past trying to say something about who I am today.

3 Me sitting on the potty and looking at the television screen where Nicolae Ceausescu, the “beloved father of our nation”, was delivering his every day discourse. “You are a piece of shit” I suddenly say. I can still see my mother’s expression, wide-eyed with fear. “Roxana, how can you say something like this? Do not ever repeat these words in front of somebody else”. Even a little kid could smell the lie we were all living in, the parody of a life you were told is the happiest of all, but which was in fact a long series of humiliations. The censored book you were forbidden to read, the radio station nobody should know you are listening to (although everybody knew that everybody was listening to it), the endless and strenuous manifestations of joy and love for the party and his great leader, where you were feeling like a clown agitating a placard for hours, the delight produced by a bar of smuggled Polish soap, waking up at 5 o’clock in the morning to wait in line to buy a bread or a piece of meat, being denied to travel outside the country because you might get intoxicated by Western rottenness… all part of Ceausescu’s grandiose Golden Age. Everybody knew that he was a piece of shit, but everybody was silenced in fear.  

12 Me reading for the first time my paternal grandfather’s memories. A priest in love with philosophy and art, who wanted nothing but a peaceful corner to read his books and a church full of honest people. A man whose children were persecuted by communists only because he was a religious person. The grandfather I idealized for a very long time, regretting his early departure and missing the opportunity of a quiet chat with him. Me, hungrily devouring his thoughts and the moment when I found out what nobody had told me, that Tartar blood is running through my veins, concocting with Ukrainian and Romanian blood, and echoing the turbulent past of the land where I was born.

25 Me on the stony road of an isolated village in Maramures, Romania. Just one of the many travels, hitchhiking, carrying a backpack, walking for miles, then knocking at a door and asking “How are you? How is your life?” Being offered food, a pillow to rest my head on, and the stories… There is peaceful beauty in this place, wherever I turn my eyes I see the green of the hills, the smell of grass and wild flowers is making my happy… The houses are far apart one from another, some of them are deserted, the trees bore fruits which now are covering the ground, they are slowly decaying and there is nobody to pick them up… There are no fences, no signs of property… Next to a house a child is playing with a pig: “Good day to you, do you know where Toader Dunca lives?” “You follow the road and… do you see that hill on the distance?… behind that hill is where Nea Toader lives”. There is still a long way until there, but time and distances are different in this place… the city is far behind, and heaven is above…

6 Me in the ringing frost of a Romanian winter, dragging a big wooden sled through the snow banks formed on the road. Upset that nobody wants to come and slide on the small hill behind the houses, I stop and take out a small egg cup that I’m usually carrying in my pocket. I start to make snow eggs, dozens of them, and I carefully arrange them on the sled in a pyramid. I am so caught up in what I am doing that I don’t even notice that I’m freezing. “A glass of warm milk is what you need”, says my grandma who was searching for me for some time. Christmas is getting closer, we must take out the old ornaments from the wooden box that stays under the bed; the lights in the shape of small hand lamps need to be fixed, are we going to use the cotton balls again? On Christmas Eve I will go and sing carols at my neighbors’ windows. They will give me walnuts, apples, cookies, and maybe some money. I will watch Disney cartoons on TV, winter break is the only time of the year when the national television is allowing us to watch these for a couple of hours during weekends. And I will eat bananas and oranges; we can buy them only around Christmas and a week has already passed since we put them on a paper, on top of a cupboard, to get ripen.

38 Me at the baptism of Rose Anna, my youngest daughter. Two orthodox parents, two little girls in traditional Romanian costumes, baptized in the Catholic Church, friends  coming from different countries and religions… smiles on our faces, peace in our hearts, we are all thankful for having each other.

10 Me in my grandparents’ house wondering why the radio has stopped broadcasting the regular programs and plays classical music instead. Bitu, my grandfather, suddenly entering the room and turning on the TV. He was riding like mad his old bicycle, abandoning the shoe repair shop where he works during the day.  The first images of freedom, people yelling deliriously” We won! We won! People won! Ceausescu has left!” Conflicting news about terrorists shooting people on the streets, the army switching sides, Ceausescu and his wife being judged, then executed, mothers searching for their sons and daughters disappeared in the chaos of the fights… A revolution broadcasted live for several days, days when we didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, didn’t do anything, and only riveted our eyes on the TV screen like never before.

24 Me at one end of a table in an interview room, after passing all the required pretests at a radio station. At the other end, two famous local voices, sitting relaxed and making rakish gestures: “Ooooh, look at her… just look at her how pretty and innocent she is… And she wants to work here, with us!” Hysterical laughing. Feeling like the joke of the day and not understanding what has just happened, but knowing that I will fail the job interview. Why?

11 Me preparing to go to the seaside with my parents, after watching Kazan’s They shoot Horses, don’t they? Gulping with sadness, I feel like weeping. How can life be so cruel? My father rushes me to the train station, he is worried that we will not have enough time to get the luggage and ourselves in the train in those two minutes that we have while the train stops… We have a long journey ahead us, 10 hours, 8 or 9 people in a small compartment… you cannot sleep, it’s hot, you don’t feel much like talking… the train arrives late, maybe because my heart is so heavy, or maybe is just the regular delay of a train teeming with people anxious to spend their annual two weeks of vacation at the seaside.

28 Me in the middle of the room, besieged by enormous piles of books, waiting to be carefully sorted and arranged on shelves, shelves that doesn’t exist yet, and how do you make and install shelves anyway? I will figure it out, I will get rid of this mess, but I have to do it quickly, Thank God I am not all alone in this… Trading old books, this is my business… I love the books, I love to discover them in old attics and dirty basements, I love to save them from oblivion and find them a good owner… but I know almost nothing about how to run a business, I guess I will learn on the way… Every inch of my body hurts and I am struggling to move and create corridors through the books; the dust quietly bestows on their covers, the future seems bleak, my shoulders are not strong enough…

27 Me in a splendid autumn morning, walking in the bright sun on the alleys of Cetatuia Hill, stepping on leaves, and listening to their golden rustle. I have been walking on the streets for several days, refusing to speak, refusing to eat, numbed by sudden emptiness and estrangement. I have been left alone. Thinking about my parents, the lie I have kept them in for so many years, the burden on my soul, what was the purpose for all of this? It was useless, love cannot grow in shadow and everything disintegrated in a nightmare. The very moment when I knew I should stop asking myself why, and the sudden realization of freedom.  The weight that physically left my body. Knowing that I can go on with my life, and that everything is going to be alright now. By all means, it could have not been alright… but it was, it was just right.

7 Me on the Easter’s morning, with my new dress and my new shoes, swirling like crazy in my grandparents’ garden, among peonies and marguerites, under my mother’s apple tree which was planted when she was born. "Hristos a inviat / Christ has risen!" says a neighbor passing on the alley. She is wearing her best clothes and her face is alight with joy. "Adevarat ca a inviat / Truly has risen!" I answer, continuing to swirl. Earlier in the morning I was visiting the neighbors, collecting dyed eggs in a small basket. The houses were all smelling of fresh baked Easter bread and people were preparing to celebrate after fasting for six weeks. Like every year, my family is gathered around the table talking and eating the food that was taken to the church at sunrise for the priest to sprinkle with Holly water.  The crack of eggs shells that my grandma dyed using papery layers of red onions and leaves to imprint the patterns. The laughing: whose egg was the strongest one, who wins this year’s contest? The clang of small glasses filled with homemade plum brandy that my grandpa is so proud of: may we all have luck and a good health! Me… so happy in my new Easter clothes, untouched by any harm, dizzy by swirling, but not wanting to stop, in the warm sun of a Romanian spring in Bukovina….

32 Me holding Sara for the first time and seeing in the fragile creature struggling to breathe, the one I was expecting for so dearly, my whole future as a mother, the bond that will never break, my life which will  irreversibly change, my duties and worries, my joys and rewards… Me immersing for the first time in the loveliness of babbles and coos, in the melting warmth of this new love.

31 Me looking in my future husband’s eyes and discovering a world more beautiful than words could ever describe.

33 Me at the end of one of my first graduate seminars. I have a splitting headache and I am rushing home with my breasts full of milk to feed the baby, thinking that I will never, NEVER, be able to catch up with those people, to fully understand what they are saying, to phrase my ideas in the same manner, to laugh at their jokes… I feel like hiding in the darkest corner of the earth, but I will not do that… I will go home and let my man hold me, I will take care of the baby and everything else, I will fight the readings, and next day I will be back in the classroom with a shy smile on my face, straining my eyes while making efforts to follow the discussions.

7 Me watching a Russian version of Arabian Nights in an overcrowded cinema theater, with my father holding me on his knees and my mother scared that the rats are hovering around our feet. The whispers, the stale atmosphere, and the sad look of the decrepit walls. We are coming to cinema twice, maybe three times a week. Films are local events and people are cramming in the small theater, with shameless hunger and unrestrained joy. At a time when the only television channel’s programs are almost entirely reduced to propaganda, coming to the movies is like a breath of fresh air, despite the heavy smell which pervades the theater. 

 

37 Me weaving martisoare with my older daughter for her classmates. A small bracelet symbolizing the coming of spring, this is what a martisor is. A red thread for health and love, a white one for purity and peace, a little bead for beauty – together they are meant to bring good luck.  The story goes that on the first day of March beautiful Spring was walking in the wood when she noticed a small snowdrop popping up from snow. The envious Winter called the winds and a hard frost, and the snowdrop froze. Spring tried to warm it up and while doing so she hurt her finger in a thorn bush. A hot drop of blood fell on the snowdrop and brought it back to life. It is customary that when you see the first tree in bloom or a stork to hang the bracelet on a branch. That’s why in some regions of Romania you can see in Spring trees weirdly dressed in red and white, a cheerful gathering celebrating the renewal of life.

31 Me and the moment I first saw the lights of Chicago. A sparkling net covering an unknown territory. My first travel by plane, the longest distance I have ever covered. The thrill, the nervousness, the realization that the step was taken and there is no coming back.

38 Me in the car, returning from a trip to New Mexico. My husband drives the car in the pouring rain, I am holding Rosie’s little face in my left palm, protecting her sleep. Thinking about my friends, my parents, my sweet grandfather who died without giving me the chance to say good bye… Dreaming about the moment I will be able to go and sit at his grave, to tell him what I have been doing and that I am thinking about him again and again… That I am keeping the photograph he gave me, but I don’t have to look at it to remember his kindness and the gentle tears that were glimmering in his eyes every time sadness was creeping in our hearts. Thinking about the road that lays ahead. I love the road… it suits me and keeps me alive… with all his peaks and troughs, is mine, and I am infinitely grateful that I can share it with those sitting beside me. Anywhere on this road… I belong.  

Not Neutral - Sylvia's Final Project

Not Neutral. 2017. Polyester beige bed skirt, polyester “Brown Stone” panel curtains, digital photographs of in-store merchandise.

When I was thirteen, the first suburban mall was erected in my town. I can remember visiting this new, foreign land—the total environment that was the mall, for the first time. Being exposed to mainstream retailers, chain restaurants, and contemporary design trends on that day lead to my first conscious introduction to advanced capitalism. In turn, the mall and its fluctuating contents inadvertently rearranged hierarchal value systems, impacting the materialization of my identity. Also at this time, newly built houses proliferated like taupe microbes, which seemed to be comprised entirely of varying shades of beige. I pondered what these new aesthetic and materialist standards meant, and whether my life emulated any of it.

Over the course of my adulthood, I have observed the prevalence of neutral tones in design aesthetics and wondered if the neutrality of merchandise in a capitalist system is actually intended to function as a “neutral” backdrop for the lives of individuals. Or, oppositely, do beige people simply desire to disappear into beige walls? 

Since the advent of modernity, there has been speculation that capitalist aims realized in merchandise typically encourage apathy in consumers and thereby discourage self-determination. For this work, I assembled conventional domestic products, deconstructed them, and reassembled them into a subversive art object in order to explore the affect of commodification on the formation of my identity. As a result of this process, the object retains evidence of my labor, which defies mechanized processes that tend to eradicate such evidence. Furthermore, by utilizing commodities that remain somewhat recognizable, I aim to simultaneously induce a sense of familiarity and ambiguity regarding the identity of the maker. Ultimately this uncanny vagueness is significant, as the work examines the fluid nature of identity and individuality informed by extrinsic elements and circumstances. Specifically, this work critiques the concept of ‘beige’ as a proposed neutral in design trends—the asserted impartiality of which I believe encourages passivity and facilitates an oversimplification of states of being. As this piece includes materials purchased for use in my actual life (i.e. bed skirt, curtains), the work illustrates my preferences as a consumer, which have been channeled yet somehow stand as characterizations of my identity.

Final

Each of you are able to develop a new post...just go to the upper right corner of the blog and click on new post. Then you can tell us about your creative project and up load your images (s). You have till the 8th catch up on the readings and post your final.

Thank you for being a part of this class and sharing your reflections on the books.

Wednesday July 5, Healing Earthquakes, book 5

As our readings come to an end for this class it is my hope that you have experienced different forms of identity. That the words have influenced your final creative project. I know summer sessions are rushed, so I accept that your project might just be sketches or outlines. What is important to me is that you begin to present yourself without the filter of academe or the support of citations.  For this one class you are encouraged to be as honest as the books you have read.

#15 in book 5 is what  I share with all my seminar classes. It is one of my favorite passages in the entire book.

Friday, June 30, Healing Earthquakes, book 4

Keep reading. By now Baca's voice should be easier as he continues to share his story, his observations and insights. Let me know what you think. If this voice influencing your creative project? We only have one more section of Baca's book till the final is due. Catch up as soon as you can.

And happy Independence Day!

Wed, June 28, Healing Earthquakes, Book 3

Keep reading this love song, life dance.
Allow the different voices from all the books to guide you to your final creative response on your identity...it does not have to be a finished work, just some sense of who you are today, who are are willing to share.
Thank you all for sharing these books with me.

Monday, June 26, Healing Earthquakes, Book 2

As you read this powerful poem, do not overthink it. Try reading out loud so you can hear the rhythm, listen to the story as if you sitting across the table from Baca and he was sharing his life with you over a cup of coffee or a drink.
If you dont like poetry it is ok...read and find the story. If English is your second language, try to relax..there is no test over this book, no trick questions.
I do ask you to share one description, one line, one stanza that haunts you.

Friday, June 23, Healing Earthquakes, Book I

A different story, a different way to tell a story. Baca invites us into a world not as polished as Watkins or Liza Lu, nor as academic as Valoma on Parker. His world is filled with sounds and smells and realities from desperate lives, forgotten lives, lives that survive.
I have no questions for you. Read. Let me know what you think and then I will respond. You may find yourself sad or shocked, moved or reminded of an event from your life...it is all OK. Some of the language is rough but it is honest and real.

As you adjust to the rhythm of the writing remember if you too are a person of words your final creative project can be words.

Wednesday, June 21, Scrape the Willow, part four

Entering the Basketscape. What a wonderful introduction to the final chapter. Julia shares more stories and baskets. Enjoy. Try to set aside your past experiences with art/ art shows and just listen and look. Continue to share your stories as you read.

Let me know if you are having any time frame issues with the final creative project or responses.

Monday, June 19th, Scrape the Willow, Part Three

In this section we again have Deborah Valoma's voice and once again she fills the essay with rich history. This time she looks at bias...gender, historical academy and the "otherness" of unknown cultures. As with her first essay there is information that might be new to you, or you may be aware of ..either way you will most likely get mad. That is ok. Respond by sharing what you think about the essay as a whole or you can focus on one part.

Friday June 16, Scrape the Willow , Part Two

I am going to post the next two readings because I will be out of town and I am not sure how much internet service I will have. And this gives you a little break on deadlines because it most likely I will not be able to read your responses till Monday night.

In this section, Julia Parker tells her story in her own way. Listen and enjoy, then compare her story to the information given in Part one on the history of Native Americans. What do you think? How informed is your own identity? How important are the political and/ or cultural histories to your story?

Keep notes for your final presentation of Identity.

June 14, Scrape the Willow, Prologue and chapter One

As we begin this new book we again switch voices. The prologue written by Valoma subtly  presents a number of thoughts...one is the use of the word " undercurrents", another is the reference to elders and then the use of the word "unspoken". Look for these words and comment on how you feel about their use.
In chapter one,  Valoma gives a very board and in depth look at the condition of Native American lands/image/culture. Take it all in and then ask yourself the following questions: what surprised you? Does any of the information ring true in your life? Are you a part of this situation? Finally,  what is your Challenge of Looking?

Monday June 12, Durban Diaries

I suggest you look up Liza Lou's work either before or after you read this book.  As you read consider this journal approach to sharing an identity. Take time to listen with your heart and your mind to this story. Ponder the layers of the stories,l et it all settle within you.  Then tell what what you felt. How does this book work or not work FOR YOU, compared to the first book?

June 9th, A Meditation of Fire...James Watkins

I am honored to begin this class with a book based on the works of James Watkins, Horn Professor in Architecture, Texas Tech University. He is a friend and someone I have worked with for over 15 years. With that said, I still want you to be honest with your opinion of the book and his story.  Really. This is not a trick.

Use "I" language, this means  do not use references or other source to prove a point. There are no points to be made. I am interested in your thoughts, your reactions.I know it will hard for some of you, but my hope is that this simple rule will help with the final project when you get to tell/create your story of identity.

As you read the book consider if you think the story was told well. What would you ask if you could or is there anything you would ask of James?  Do you think it is true that the art speaks for itself? What did you learn that you may not have known before? What impressed you? Mainly convince me you have read the book and you have thought about it in your own way.

This is a short class and it will speed by so begin thinking about your final project. I encourage art making which due to the short time can be sketches / drawings / work ups. I absolutely love the mix of this class Architecture, PhDs, MAEs...all of you have very different approaches to art /art making, use this time to work on something that is your story. You are not required to continue doing the work you have been doing or you are getting a degree in. Dream. About the you, you want to share.

June 7th, Introductions

For each assignment I will post the date, a reminder of the reading and a sentence or two for you to consider. Again if you are late posting POST ON THE CURRENT DATE, DO NOT GO BACK, just let us all know you are catching up with a note on which assignment your are answering.

So who are you? Share what you are comfortable with, as much or as little. Tell a story, share your dreams or maybe your confusions. You can tell the story you have told a hundred times or you can change your story. Maybe the real question is who do you feel you are not who you think others believe you to be.

Thank you for being in this class and for being willing to explore the books we will share.

Greetings and Syllabus

Welcome to a very quick but intense summer session. We will be examining four artists and how their stories are told. In turn I hope each of you take time to consider these stories in reference to your own life story and how you want to be identified.

Your responses to the readings are due by midnight on the dates given. I will offer my own insights on your writings at the end of each assignment.  When you post, tell me what you really think...not what you think I want to hear. If you are referring to a certain line or story give the page number. When you respond to others be respectful. Each voice is important.

I have allowed for time between postings. I want  the stories / the words to simply be with you for reflection and maybe allow the space for you  to consider how the stories  inform or influence your own story.

The final project is a work of art or a written essay (500-700 word) on your identity, on your story.

Summer I 2017

Art 5360 Seminar in Art Education: “Identities”

Future Akins-Tillett, Associate Professor of Art

future.akins@ttu.edu

Last day to drop a class without a penalty

Last day to declare intent to graduate summer 2017

June 9, 2017

Catalog Description

Topics very per course from faculty research to publication processes, ecology, technology, interpretation, and issues of power, privilege, and ideology. May be repeated for credit.

Prerequisites

Graduate standing and permission of instructor.

Overview of Class

This class will look at and question how four artists create their identities. Who are they, what is their story, who tells their story, how do their story translated over time and how do their stories inform our own stories. I encourage to use this opportunity to develop meaningful dialogs with your colleagues. I will read and comment on each of your main entries and at times will add comments to the dialogs.

I ask you to listen to and learn from each other. This is not a place to dominate or to be judgmental. We will be looking at  four lives that through a traditional approach (questions and answers), journaling, a combination of questions and personal essays and poetry.

If you are late posting, post in the current date. Do not attempt to go back and post. Simply identify the reading you are responding to, such as “Based on Watkins…”.

Required Readings/ Review Material

A Meditation of Fire: the Art of James C. Watkins, Kippra Hopper,Texas Tech University Press,1999, ISBN 0-89672-419-0

Durban Diaries, Liza Lou, White Cube, 2012

Scrape the Willow Until It Sings: The words and art of Basket Maker Julia Parker,  Deborah Valoma, Heyday, 2013, ISBN

978-1-59714-226-7

Healing Earthquakes, Jimmy Santiago Baca, Grove Press, 2001

ISBN 0-8021-3814-4

Final Project/Essay Due

For a final exam you are to create a work of art (your choice of medium) inspired /influenced by the readings and your own identity. Or you many choose to write a 500-750 word response using the same guidelines.

 If at anytime an issue develops and you feel a need to contact me directly or privately do not hesitate to write me at future.akins@ttu.edu.

Outcomes

1. Students will examine four approaches to creating identity.

2. Students will compare the information gained with the previous knowledge from previous creative classes.

3. Students will apply the gained knowledge to their own creative practice.

Assessments

1.Students will be able to reflect, analyze and discuss contemporary/ traditional approaches to storytelling as a form of identity making.

2.Students will review various ways of presenting an identity.

2.Students will create a work of art  or a written response to the readings bases on their own sense of identity/their own story.

Attendance Policy

Your attendance is necessary in order to make this class a successful learning experience. If you know you will be unable to respond on the blog during the set time it is your responsibility to notify me in advance and make arrangements to make up work. Continued absences will have a direct impact on your grade. You are expected to respond to the postings within the week in order to have a continuous dialog. Responding late, in bulk messages, is unfair and puts the other students at a disadvantage. Your grade will reflect this practice.

Absence due to officially approved trips.

The Texas Tech University Catalog states that the person for a student missing class due to a trip should notify the instructor of the department in advance of the trip. The may not be penalized and is responsible for the material missed.

Religious Holy Days (O.P. 34.19)

“Religious holy days” means a holy day observed by a religion whose place of worship are exempt from property taxation under Tax Code 11.20. A student who intends to observe a religious holy day should make that intention know in writing to the instructor prior to the absence. A student who is absent from classes for the observance of a religious holy day shall be allowed to take an examination or complete an assignment scheduled for that within a reasonable time after the absence. A student who is excused may not be penalized for the absence; however, the instructor may respond appropriately if the student fails to complete the assignment satisfactory.

American with Disabilities Act

Any student, who because of a disabling condition may require some special arrangements in order to meet course requirements, should contact the instructor as soon as possible to make any necessary accommodations. Students should present appropriate verification form Student Disability Services to the instructor. Please note instructors are to provide classroom accommodations to a student until appropriate verification from Student Disability Services office at 335 West Hall or 806.742.2405 (American with Disabilities Act, July 26,1990).

Health and Safety Policy

Every effort will be made to comply with the intent of state laws or act sand the University Health and Safety Program in an effort to maintain a safe academic and working environment. Information and awareness of safety factor will be included in course content.

Civility in the Classroom

Students are expected to assist in maintaining an online classroom environment that is conductive to learning. In order to assure that all students have an opportunity to gain from time spent in class, inappropriate behavior such as vulgarity, personal attacks, or attempts to intimidate another student within the online posts and responses shall result in minimally a request to leave the class.

Conflict Resolution The Student Resolution Center is available to assist students with any conflict or problem that has to do with being a student at Texas Tech University. You may visit the Student Resolution Center in the Student Union Building or call 742-4791

Academic Integrity “It is the aim of the faculty of Texas Tech University to foster a spirit of complete honesty and high standard of integrity. The attempt of students to present as their own any work not honestly performed is regarded by the faculty and administration as a most serious offense and renders the offenders liable to serious consequences, possibly suspension” (2011-12 Texas Tech Student Handbook, page 8). “Academic dishonesty” includes, but it not limited to, cheating, plagiarism, collusion, falsifying academic records, misrepresenting facts, and any act designed to give unfair academic advantage to the student.” (For the specific definitions of Academic Misconduct, see 2011-2012 Texas Tech Student Handbook, page 28). This includes, but is not limited to, submission of essentially the same written assignment for two courses without the prior permission of the instructor or the attempt to commit such an act.

Semester Mapping

All posts are due by midnight on dates due.

June 7               Introductions. Share a little something about who you are: what level are you, do you teach (where, what), and what kind of art do you create? What do you hope to get out of this class?

June 9               A Meditation of Fire

June12              Durban Diaries

June 14             Scrape the Willow, Prologue and part One

June 16               Scrape the Willow, part Two

June 19               Scape the Willow, part Three

June 21               Scape the Willow, part four

June 23               Healing Earthquakes, Book 1

June 26               Healing Earthquakes, Book 2

June 28               Healing Earthquakes, Book 3

June 30              Healing Earthquakes, Book 4

                                   4th of July Holiday

July 5                Healing Earthquakes, Book 5

July 8                Final creative project or response

Grade Rubric

Postings and responses (12 x 6.5 points)   78

Final project/writing                                           22

90-100               A

80-89                 B

70-79                 C

60-69                 D

Below 60            F