Essay on My School Activity: Chalk the Block

As a young child, I often transformed my grandma's dwelling into my own personal canvas. Fueled by morning cartoons, I would concoct detailed illustrations of the oddities in my imagination and intricate pictures of my family and surrounding. It was evident I had been blessed. I was never discouraged from my routine doodling either, just encouraged to channel that creativity on to anything but our walls. When I started public schooling some years later I was introduced to the scope of what art really was. Painting, drawing, photography-It was a world unknown to me then. The way we experimented with every medium early on was perfect for my inquisitive nature. For years I invested in what I now consider to be my craft, with the guidance of numerous

I asked my uncle, a very good artist, if he could teach me to draw or paint. He told me he would think about it, and until today 7 years after he is still thinking. So I did what any person of my age would do, use Internet. I must have taken every single draw tutorial that can be found on Google. I knew to get home at noon after school, do my homework and immediately paint the rest of the day. Friday, Saturday and Sundays I didn’t got out of my room. I practiced so much there were times I lost control of my hand and break pencils. I practice anatomy, faces, hair, mythological creatures. I used to save my money and buy every month an issue of the art magazine DibujArteS3 and follow their tutorials as good as I could manage. I asked people about my draws in the school as well and that helped me a lot. Because of the ladder of popularity school seldom enforce I was not very liked so I knew each opinion given by the people in my classroom was honest. I received a lot of criticism: good criticism, bad criticism, hurtful criticism and even cruel heartless criticism. More that a thousand of people, both on Internet and in life, told me to give up when I was just starting and I just keep practicing, harder with every

Throughout my early teen years, I was exposed to different mediums of art and discovered that I could express myself through more channels than just paper. Although Barry found comfort in her 11 x 17 newsprint and some paint, I was able to focus my energy on making music and taking photographs. Without my art teachers, I wouldn’t have the expressive outlet I do today. My childhood was not filled with unhappiness as Lynda Barry’s was, but from both backgrounds, we found a warmth from the exposure of art that the educational system gave to us.

Nevertheless, I believed that I was limited in how I could be proactive. This belief stemmed from my inability to visualize myself expressing resistance through art. I knew art induced emotions within audiences that facts could not, and I knew combining art and information to create an argument that was both logical and emotional was an effective way to motivate audiences in support of social justice. However, before this class, I had never created protest art and believed only professional artists could make significant contributions to protest art. Due to this, I was unable to incorporate art in my own resistance against oppressive

As the only child, of my mother, I often faced the problem of not having someone to play with forcing more creativity. I often did various arts and crafts projects, but I found that I enjoyed drawing the most. With each drawing I become completely engrossed partially because it is a self-taught skill that requires focus, but also because I must be patient with myself as I work towards what I envision and learn new techniques. The Art of Drawing is a skill that I can continuously develop and perfect. The patience that my artwork teaches goes beyond the work itself. It demonstrates the importance of accepting my weaknesses and working towards bettering them. I am able to properly release the struggles I encounter and not be consumed because of my artwork. Creating my drawings is more than expression, but also self-discovery because I can be more honest with myself, embracing who I am and what I feel. However, from time to time I do encounter “artist block” and the exhibitions held at the museum of fine arts at Florida State University could provide inspiration much like my environment here at Spelman

Neither COIV Contreras, nor COIV Flores had any knowledge a painting that you submitted. COIII Keaton did recall that you gave him either a painting or drawing, and that he placed it into COIV Contreras mail box on the door to her office in the programs area, contrary to inmate Mounla’s statement that COIII Keaton personally placed the painting on COIV Contreras desk. Unfortunately, the painting was in an unsecure area of the programs office, and could have been taken by another inmate in the area. The programs office has a fairly high volume of inmate traffic during the day. While you were correct to deliver this item to program staff, I suggest in the future that you hold off on turning in similar items until the appropriate staff (COIV Contreras or COIV Flores) area available to secure the items

I was called to the back room, and inside of the room was massive amounts of arts and craft type of materials ranging from colored pencils, markers, pastels, crayons, coloring books, mandala pieces, cotton balls, glitter, Zen sandboxes, almost anything you can imagine that had to do with anything artsy. Not wanting to show any excitement to the higher ups, I walked into the room and I went and sat down and crossed my arms, and rolled my eyes. A few minutes later I was introduced to the woman who changed my life.

The pencil liberates my stresses and sorrows. Bare and unimpeded, my mind is able to isolate itself from anything that was happening in my life. At my art table, which is merely an escape from reality, my curiosity is able to wander. Within this room, five blank canvas's look in on me as I become a mold of my imagination. A step inside my world develops into a sea of color and exploration. The vibrancy of the walls resonates throughout. Over the years, my room has served as my oasis. It’s my escape from monotonous and mundane routines. It’s my exploration of another side of me. I observe such works of art almost as much as I create. Taking notice of my classmates’ innovations and inspired by their creativity, my paintbrush begins to alleviate stress. I strive to produce pieces others will appreciate, but often find myself to be the true admirer. My pride, in this world, is driven simply by my own curiosity to express myself. I credit this side of me as the “passion” that supplements my insane drive for success. This passion has sparked critical thinking in me as well as how I see failure. Life is a blank canvas and you can truly draw whatever you want, and if you fail, you start over and don’t make that same mistake again! Hard work takes ideas quite far, but true success is derived from ingenuity and the generation of

I’m sitting at my computer, ignoring pages of economics homework and mugs of cold tea now strewn about my desk, as I search for a direction to go with my life. Such was was my predicament several months ago. It’s undeniable that I’m an artist, hard and true, for a pencil found its way into my hand as a child, and no desire of mine nor of the universe ever tempted it to pry away. Throughout my earliest years and memories, I maneuvered with graphite, paint, and crayon every adventure that I ever dreamt of pursuing. Oh, I was a resilient child, as well, who refused to take part in any art class at school or as an extracurricular for an abundance of years, as I was invariably convinced that I could learn all I wished on my own accord! Consequently,

During my time as volunteer at Somerset Dade Academy, I was able to work closely with the elementary and middle school teacher. During each visit, I was able to follow Ms. Lee’s daily routine. In the morning, we had 30 minutes to plan and get her cart ready with supplies she needed for the day. Also, we would both create various model artworks to inspire her students to create something more original and imaginative. She wheeled her cart through certain elementary classes depending on her schedule. Depending on the grade level she was assign to that day, we were able to teach her students the fundamental concepts of arts and major art movements, all in 30 minutes. Every three weeks, she would focus on a concept, artist, or art movement. Additionally, she would assign vocabulary words, which her students would copy and also had access to them online on Quizlet. At the end, she would administer a summative test on everything they learned for the past three weeks. On the other hand, Ms. Lee’s middle school classes were different, more one-on-one, and it was a one-hour period. Her students were able to recreate impressionist and expressionist artworks, such as Monet’s Water Lilies, Van Gogh Starry Night and The Bedroom on wall-sized canvases.

Some of the chapters which relevant about evaluating art works (or films, writing pieces) remines me the first time I recognize my responsibility as an artist. It was an acsiddent: I left a person size paper sculpture hanging in classroom overnight and scared an instructor walked by the door. That instructor mistakenly thought my work is a real hanging person, but it is actually a Piñata which is commonly used in many Mexcian birthday partires. I wrote a long apologize letter after that. Even my intention of making art is compeletly harmless, but art works are left for viewer to interpret. Like Lynne Tillman

I graduated from Hilliard Darby High School this past spring. My love for art began very young with my father who always made sure to encourage my creativity. I remember making coil pots with him during the summer and then painting them. In the ninth grade I took painting which I immediately became attached too. For the past four years I have continued to expand my abilities and strengthen skills with the help of my teacher Mrs. Kulick-Brown. From there I have completed several commissioned pieces for teachers and their families. Painting has taught me a lot about color and composition. During high school I also was involved in ceramics where I competed in the annual ‘Feats of Clay” competition. I love the focus and serenity I experience

The wayback-background begins with two very understanding and supportive non-artsy parents that stocked their house full of every pencil, marker, and paint set imaginable. Jessica grew up knowing she wanted to do something art related for a living but had no idea what graphic design was until Sophomore year of college. She took an intro course and was hooked. Design was satisfying in a completely different way than fine art—everything was like a puzzle you had to solve. As a nineteen-year-old from Nowheresville, Pennsylvania who lived a relatively charmed existence, she didn’t feel like she had much to “express” yet. Being able to think and execute artwork on the behalf of others—to address their needs rather than her own—was a giant “Eureka!” moment.

While attending Bates Technical College for an Associates of Applied Science in Occupational Therapy Assistant, I have had the opportunity through my fieldwork to create therapeutic relationships where I serve as a teacher who encourages others and use my flexibility to problem solve. I was a student intern at Pearl Street Center, an inpatient psychiatric facility, where I incorporated task analysis to develop therapeutic activities for adolescents. I recall a craft in which I encouraged residents to decorate a paper plate with the theme of self-expression and had them cooperate to combine their unique art into a collaborative piece. During the craft, there was a new resident, a Vietnamese boy who angrily refused to participate. I addressed his behavior and learned he was scared and overwhelmed in this foreign environment, so I brought him to a quieter area and found magazine clippings he was interested in and related to culturally. By creating a workstation more conducive to his needs, he was able to relax and became more open to expressing himself through his art. I realized that my creativity and problem-solving skills allowed me to adapt my teaching style based on the consumers’ needs and successfully implemented meaningful activity

I flipped to the very last page, the blank paper a light tan, coarse, rough to the touch. My hand reached for the charcoal pencil behind my ear, wanting to draw, to sketch. My art was not a traitor, and it shall never be. It would comfort me now that I need it.