As a teacher of Introductory Art courses, I often find myself speaking a language of observation foreign to many of my students, yet so familiar to me today. Partially this is due to the decade I have over them studying and making art, in addition to an intentional effort and daily self-prescribed job to stop and see this world more closely for many years now. I've been told I take too much time, and I'm never fast at anything. I have to admit I'm isolating moments in time to see the details. Maybe I'm too attentive, too excited about the subtle qualities of everything. Maybe I have the "shiny" syndrome like a child who sees and touches every ounce of newness for the first time. However, little by little I've noticed my students catching on, and after a week or two of hearing my ongoing, broken record of spoken thoughts and observations pointing out the details in the land, the sky and the individual unique qualities of natural forms, they as well begin to see more closely, as if they were seeing through the eyes of a child. When this moment arrives I know exactly why I teach and how the significant role as an artist defines how I exist in this world. In the New York Times, David Hockney, at age 72, continues to explore his world with this enthusiasm. Maybe Hockney too has always had a case of the "shiny" syndrome, at the very least; he continues to see the details and shares his observations with great enthusiasm! In a brief quote you can hear the wonderment of Hockney."Watch! The ash tree now comes in — look at the shape of it! And now then on the right, another tree. There’s a point where each one stands on its own. There. Now. It’s surrounded by sky. Now the next one, and it stands on its own. You see?
Connect to the link for the full New York TImes article. http://http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/18/arts/design/18kino.html?_r=1
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