The Arts in Education

I got to pondering on writing this morning. It is another art form I love - I love to write, I love to read. And I am lucky enough to have earned income from my writing over the years, although it‘s taken more of a backseat to my painting the past 9 years. What got me today was an interesting article on poetry in the Washington Post’s Sunday magazine - I read while I ride my stupid exercise bike… if I didn’t read, I’d not ride it. See how good reading is for you?

What caught my attention was how a young kid called, to paraphrase, “a bad one,” turned his life around because of poetry. This immediately brought out one of my soapboxes, not to mention my hobby horse riding high on top of said soapbox. Art is essential in education.

Naturally headstrong and rebellious, who knows where I could have landed up if I hadn’t had marvelous, strong and passionate teachers who got the meaning, and an appreciation for literature, poetry, painting, dance, music and debate through my obstinate and silly teenage head. I should be offering up a daily thank you to Suzie K., Petal,  Mrs. Crewe and many more at my wonderful boarding school, Epworth in South Africa. The school and I both survived those years with good humour and my great respect for the school, it’s teachers and staff remains undimmed. Just for the record, my parents were a very strong influence in this regard well before I went to boarding school - my schooling reinforced what they valiantly tried to get through my thick, independent but unformed mind.

Art, in it’s many forms, is not for the sole benefit or understanding of a liberal elite. Far too many idiotic politicians use this argument as they slash funding for the arts in schools. All it does is make the politician look more ignorant. Americans for the Arts have a wonderful long list of why art in education is essential - they put it much better than I can. Check it out at
http://www.artsusa.org/get_involved/advocacy/funding_resources/default_005.asp 

If politicians would quit their posturing, putting up road blocks and generally behaving badly and instead actually look to, and implement, solving problems, they would make a good start by funding art in education again. It would go a good distance to bring back civility to modern life. We sure could do with it. Maybe we should send every politician in the world a poem to read - entitled “Art is essential in education.” It’s a simple truth.

To be balanced, I am proud the State of Delaware recognizes the importance of art in education. Our First Lady gave an excellent talk at the Arts Summit 2011 on the subject. Here’s a short but reaffirming video from the DE Div of the Arts… http://www.artsdel.org/ArtsEducation/default.shtml 

And finally - on to an update on my ‘Vukusakhe’ project : Painting 1 is complete. Painting 2 - a much more haunting subject than the first traditional village scene, is going very well. I prepped Painting 3 and start on it today maybe. I’m chronicling the progress of the Vukusakhe project on my gallery face book page and am starting a page on my website about it…if you’re interested, go to http://annejenkinsart.com  or http://facebook.com/annejenkinsartgallery

The art of music

What I would give to play music, or even be able to sing would be nice. I open my mouth to yodel a few notes and kids run screaming to their mothers. It might seem strange for someone who has the gift of creating art well enough to make a living from it, to envy another talent. I appreciate, and am grateful for, my talent. It’s just I think music is a gift to lift the world.
You can be sitting in a plush state of the art concert hall listening to a world-class orchestra or lying in a sleeping bag on a rough old Greek ferry listening to someone strum their guitar, and the feeling is the same. It lifts your spirits, enriches the whole experience and stirs every emotion.
I can still hear the young guy playing his guitar and singing softly to the stars one summer night way back in 1974 as I lay in my sleeping bag on the deck of a ferry bound for Greece from Italy. I eventually went back to live in Athens for six years and have lots of memorable Greek music moments. Not to mention the umpteen concerts I was lucky enough to go to while there, like Jose Feliciano or Van Morrison. But that simple guitar always comes back to me with a stirring of travel excitement.
Mention 4th of July and I go back to 1986 in Ibiza with Sasha. Lee and I were living on our 30-foot sailboat in the Mediterranean. Our celebration was a small BBQ on the rocky wall of a deserted, unfinished harbour when this large Russian clutching a bottle of vodka walked up. He asked politely what we were doing, then
announced he would join us for our 4th July BBQ regardless of the fact we hadn’t invited him. He grinned, “Russian, American, who cares. We can drink together.”
He ate the ribs and salads as he drank his bottle of vodka. We learned he was an opera singer from Moscow and, for some reason he never explained, had disgraced himself. He was wandering around Europe to console himself. The sun got lower, Sasha got drunker. He suddenly threw his head back and started to sing. My God, he hadn’t lied about his voice. It was powerful and magnificent. He sang for about 10 minutes. Then he stopped, had a swig and started weeping, “Oh! poor Sasha, poor Sasha,” he wailed before blabbering in Russian for a minute or two. He took another swig before singing again. The singing was heart stopping. Our own private opera as we watched the soft twilight fade to moonlight on the gentle sea swells. The weeping and wailing added to the atmosphere really. So it continued for some time then abruptly he got up and staggered off. We never saw  him again. But what a gift he had given us that 4th July on the rocky edge of a ‘nearly-finished’ harbour wall. Pure magic.
Every country has a unique musical tradition. No one can say “thank you” the way the Zulu’s do, they sing to you. I worked with the Amandwe Support Group a couple of years ago on landscapes. Afterwards they made tea and we sat together. Then they said, we will sing for you. Even thinking about it brings tears. Singing is pure Africa and just hearing a snippet of it can make me homesick quicker than the thought of Africa’s vistas or the special scent of her earth.
My time in New Orleans was deeply involved in it’s music - and that’s why I wish I could join musicians and play or sing. I’m a huge fan of “Playing for Change,” watching their videos brings all those special musical moments back. And I do believe people can interconnect through music more than any other medium. It can make the world a better place if we let it, and if we really listen to it. And, damn, but it can just make you smile. I"ll always love music and the happy memories it brings. But I guess I’ll just have to keep painting unless some miracle happens!!
Listen to what I mean and get hooked. Go to http://www.playingforchange.com and follow them on face book at https://www.facebook.com/PlayingForChange

Ready to march...

The brass bands that lead second line parades, play at French Quarter Fest,  Jazz Fest, lots of clubs and all sorts of Mardi Gras fun. They make wonderful vignettes to paint of New Orleans life and are one of my recurring subjects. I loved painting them when I lived there and I still do, particularly when I'm missing New Orleans. It's like that Louis Armstrong song - "Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?" The area I lived in had a lot of musicians and artists. Music floated out of many buildings as you walked around from jazz to brass bands to a concert piano player running through a classical piece. Kids would walk home from school blowing quick blasts of sound from their horn of choice. It adds a charm to an old neighbourhood and is not found in silent modern cities.
Now I paint them from memory. They are wonderful musicians and great fun to know.

Must be Mardi Gras time

I miss New Orleans a lot and at this time of year, Mardi Gras time, brings back lots of good memories ... hence the new musical series based on the magical brass bands of NOLA! I always loved painting the musicians or especially the tuba players. I haven't painted them for a long time. An old time member of a brass band once told me, if the band ever got in trouble the tuba player was always the one caught. I asked why and he laughed. "Because he always got caught trying to get through the door," he replied. Always think of that when I paint and it still brings a smile to my face. This one is on a 12x24 wood panel.