A distinct memory accompanied each poster, concert ticket and postcard I removed from the walls of my childhood bedroom. At twelve years old I started to create a massive collage with the walls that would eventually take up every inch of space covering multiple layers that lasted until the day I moved out on my own.
My parents had finally sold their house that I grew up in just ten minutes from Center City Philadelphia. The gargantuan dismantling efforts to clear my bedroom had begun and I started to become overwhelmed. It was true, most of the things in the room I didn’t need. My apartment already had everything deemed essential, but I decided I would keep the concert and airline tickets and postcards and books, of course. Continue reading “Destiny” »
The person making the object wasn’t trying to express his own personality or his own interpretation of appearance; he was trying to represent something outside himself for which he felt the utmost respect, love or dread – to show us this wonderful thing as well as he possibly could. How the purity of his intention makes itself felt in the artifact I don’t understand but it does.
– Diana Athill
The night before we taught our first art class to the children in Ghana I said a quiet prayer that the deep imagination of these kids would be tapped. I had an idea how the day would go from my previous experiences in Kenya. The children swarm around you and treat you like you’re a celebrity. They’re curious about your every aspect and want to be in your presence. The African children always loved my blonde hair and would make me lean down so they could touch it. They were also fascinated by my tattoos and wanted to touch those as well. Continue reading “Pen & Paper” »
Second grade had been a rough year for me, but third was when I first started to see my (obvious) struggle with math. Not only did it take me forever to grasp simple multiplication, I was completely uninterested in the subject altogether. My third grade teacher Mrs. Larson had sympathy for me because I don’t think she was too fond of math either. She was well traveled and preferred geography, history, writing and social studies. (The loves of my life).
Mrs. Larson brought out the best in me when it came to my deep fascination with the world. For hours I studied maps and knew all of my countries, continents, capitals, oceans and seas. In this realm, I surpassed everyone in the class and had my teacher to thank for building up my interest and feeding my hunger to know more about the planet.
At one point we were each assigned a country to do a project on. I ended up with the West African country of Ghana.