The column also reminded me of when I was writing arts stories for the newspaper. I became wary about interviewing visual artists. So many of these wonderfully creative, intelligent people would have so much trouble describing what they do. Even basic facts about their lives were often hard for them to articulate. They would become flustered and embarrassed. I did my best to assure them that all they had to do was talk — my job was to organize the nuggets and write the story. Sometimes that helped, sometimes it didn’t. I’m sure both sides came away shaking their heads about how the other half lives.

Here’s the column that sums up how my half lives.

The Big, Invisible Moving Pieces

An article in Stanford Magazine has helped me to reconcile my emotional vs. intellectual response to graffiti. It tells the story of a woman in Philadelphia who has found a way to harness the creativity in tagging and channel the positive force behind the vandalism. It seems most cities could follow her lead. Have a read:Painting the Town

Why California must fund music education

Ted Barone

Friday, July 31, 2009

The budget straits the state of California is facing are forcing our leaders to make a series of pernicious choices with legacy implications. One such choice is whether to fund music programming or refocus our funding priorities to the “core academics” (which happen to be those subjects tested in the statewide testing system).

I propose that we really don’t have a choice. We must fund music.

From the rhythm of our breathing as infants and the comforting lullabies that helped us sleep, to the cacophony of song and sound that envelops our modern everyday lives, music is an essential factor in what defines us as human. Music is a messenger that carries the history and collective experience of a people across time and space. Music also helps develop our brains in a way that will increase our ability to address and solve the extraordinary challenges that lie ahead of us as a people. The musical key is the proverbial key. In other words, the structure and organization of music is exactly what makes it so important for brain development. From the notes, chords are built. Chords determine keys, within which a skillful musician creates an experience, a message, a movement. Mix in rhythm and a new order of time emerges.

Music is all about creating neural networks and expanding the speed and capacity of the pathways that determine skill and memory. A key finding from brain research is that once a neural pathway is established, and the more that pathway is used, especially with passion and emotion, the greater the “bandwidth” and strength of the connection. Memory is improved, processing speed is increased, and better, more sophisticated decisions are a result.

Music is all about the structural connections that are used to support memory. It’s much easier to remember something that follows a familiar structure or pattern than something random and unfamiliar. These familiar structures serve as the foundation for building greater knowledge and even stronger and more extensive neural networks that support learning of all kinds.

In a world of extraordinary complexity, a premium is placed on one’s ability to quickly process massive amounts of wildly varying types of information. Musical instruction helps young people develop the brain capacity to process a lot of information and to organize and present it.

Playing music cultivates a mind that is prepared to process and make sense of the rush of information and problems that have come to characterize the 21st century. Music is a core subject. We can’t cut funding for music any more than we can cut funding for math.

Ted Barone is the principal of Albany High School.

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/07/31/EDQ01910HK.DTL

This article appeared on page A – 15 of the San Francisco Chronicle
© 2009 Hearst Communications Inc.

A New Day of Joy!

Dear Members,

There are over 70 pieces in the Choristers Guild catalogue that contain the word “joy” in the title. Choristers Guild composer, Larry Schultz’s A New Day of Joy is among the newest, published as part of the Spring 2009 packet. Terry York’s text for this anthem posits, “This third day of sadness is a new day of joy!” I love that reassurance.

It is easy to name all of the things that seem to be going wrong around us. We seem to be living at a time when there is clear, palpable and global recognition that our planet is crossing a tipping point. No one can make the claim that they are not affected by or connected to social, ecnomic or ecological changes. Now more than ever, we may wonder, where is the joy?

As musicians, we are poised to be catalysts of change. Music, song, and singing connect us to a life-blood creativity that we must not forget. Most of us began this work because of the pleasure we felt making music. Have you stopped recently to consider the physical sensation of singing? It is a pleasurable experience! It is natural and in its purest form, it is easy!

We at Choristers Guild are here to inspire, nurture and support you as leaders in your diverse settings. Spend some time with our music and resources, take advantage of one of the director’s workshops this summer, and then dare to share the joy you experience.

Blessings,

David Hein, Choristers Guild, National Board President

Printed in The Chorister: Volume 61, Number 1, page 3

I like that on the Web, my columns can live forever, and I never know when someone, somewhere in the world, will get introduced to Art and About. That’s why I leave everything here. I DON’T like knowing I have a stale posting. Since most of my writing isn’t timely, in reality, it is not any more stale than a book published years ago. But I know in the Internet world, someone could come to my site, see the latest posting date being months or years ago, and think that nobody cares about Art and About any more.

NOT TRUE.

I still care deeply about showing people how to recognize and appreciate the arts and creativity in the world around them on a daily basis. I continue to talk to my family and friends about it. My work with children’s choirs means I get to touch young lives weekly and teach them to keep their senses open to the Creative Spirit at work among us. In my personal laboratory at home, in which I keep my own children in Art and About petri dishes, I have seen that by showing children how to live creatively, they themselves live creatively. My children are 6 and 8 now, and they are very open and free creative thinkers, both in how they approach work and play, and in how they remark on creative encounters in the world. They never, ever think inside the box. They refresh my way of thinking on a daily basis.

If I feel compelled to write a blog column, I still will. In the meantime, there are people past and present encapsulating the Art and About way of life as well, if not better, than I do. If you need a fix, check them out.

Thank you for embracing and spreading the Art and About way of life!

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”
–Pablo Picasso

“Dance is your pulse, your heartbeat, your breathing. It’s the rhythm of your life. It’s the expression in time and movement, in happiness, joy, sadness and envy.”
~ Jaques D’ambroise

Jean Van’t Hul in North Carolina TOTALLY gets it! Check out her blog,

The Artful Parent

Here’s an interview with Jean on Creative Construction. Did I mention she TOTALLY GETS IT?

You must get your hands on a copy of “A Child’s Book of Art: Great Pictures, First Words” selected by Lucy Micklethwait. Here’s an excerpt from the inside cover:

Every child loves to look at pictures. If we give them paintings to look at, children begin to develop a lasting appreciation of art. Children look at paintings with freshness and honesty. They are eager to explore, find something new, and study the details. A Child’s Book of Art presents more than 100 pictures for children to delight in as they start to discover the fascinating world of art.

Each picture in this book is accompanied by a first word that can be the starting point for conversation. Scenes from everyday life around the world and throughout history offer endless opportunities for discussion.

However, my feelings toward art purchased at Home Goods continued to plague me for months. Many times, Oprah has said that when the Universe wants to teach you something, it will keep sending you lessons until you learn it. The first lesson might feel like a pebble hitting you on the side of the head, but if you don’t learn from it, then the next lesson will feel more like a rock. It will escalate to a brick, a wall and so on until an entire metaphorical house falls on you, if that’s what it takes to get your attention.

Generally, I have found this to be true and it certainly was true regarding this art crisis. The barrage of lessons came over a number of weeks as I tried to creatively punch up our landscaping without spending a fortune on tearing up a crumbling patio or buying a lot of new plants. Once again, a solution blindsided me at Home Goods when I spotted two separate sculptures of metal frogs playing instruments. I immediately saw that I could build a little stage area off to one side of the yard and have the five frogs that comprised the sculptures serenading that corner of the garden — a fun and unexpected vignette to add a mini focal point within the middle of the hardscape.

As I was buying the frogs, the Home Goods cashier commented, “Somebody like frogs.” I responded that I had no idea I did until I saw these amphibious musicians. He quipped, “It’s amazing what we convince people they have to have.” I appreciated his commentary on marketing and out-of-control consumerism, but his words struck even deeper for me because once again, I was investing in handcrafted, made-in-China merchandise and responding to it like art.

(Before I go on, I have to tell you that I hesitated to write this column, and have once again delayed doing timely postings, because I wasn’t sure how to handle the political ramifications of mentioning all this stuff about China. I am not intending to be commenting on the artistry or workmanship of items made in China, on the business practices in China, labor policy in China, or on the import practices of the United States. I am intending to use the items from China that I am buying as a symbol of the inexpensive, mass-produced, imported goods that I am surprisingly responding to as art.)

The frog band vignette came together and I started to envision mini art scenes hidden around corners all over the garden. Over a series of about 10 weeks, I made trips to Home Goods and its neighbor, T.J. Maxx and found 12 more art pieces, all from China, to display in my garden. There were groups of dancers, there were other bands of musicians, and there were music symbols and instruments. All of them made of metal, none of them intended for outdoor use and most of them costing no more than $10. Every week I was surprised to find items within my theme newly stocked on the shelves. I fancied that the buyers for T.J. Maxx and Home Goods were thinking, “Wow, we have a real market for cheap, metal, music-themed sculpture.”

Every week, I hesitated about adding one more piece of questionable art to my garden. I would get a pit in my stomach and my heart would race. I would almost dread walking into the store for fear they would actually have more sculpture and I would have to deliberate once again on purchasing it. But my curiosity compelled me to enter as I wondered how long the supply could possibly last, and I always knew right where I would put the new additions. Each one added another layer of irresistible charm to our outdoor living space.

When my daughter’s gymnastics session ended, I no longer had reason to go to the Home Goods/T.J. Maxx shopping center and my expeditions stopped. I was quite relieved because I was weary of the conflict between my stubbornly held definition of art and my obvious disregard for that definition by my actions over three months.

The family spent many hours over the summer playing and relaxing alongside our new sculptures. Visitors would delight in walking through the garden and discovering a new vignette in unexpected places. Children who visited would touch the sculptures and go searching in and around flowers and bushes to find more. I enjoyed pruning plants to stay just clear of the vignettes so the sculptures appeared as artistic oases among the foliage. I also started to imagine what the winter garden would look like once the plants are trimmed far back and the sculpture becomes the focal star until spring arrives again.

Like any successful adoption, I have stopped thinking about where the art came from or how much it cost, and now love it because of what it is and what is stands for. It was a long and painful lesson, but the simple truth is not earth shattering or original — if you love the piece, then it is art. The determination comes from your heart and soul, not your brain. Engaging with the creative force in everyday life means being open to it in any form, without bias. And in one of life’s more unexpected twists, I find myself grateful for large, discount retailers and for China.

We had some much-deferred maintenance in our backyard and pool area that couldn’t be deferred anymore. Coordinating contractors and pitching in to do much of the work ourselves was indeed time consuming. But this excuse was just a shield to hide behind while I pondered a personal art crisis that blind-sided me in February. Here is a column I wrote then and never posted due to my unresolved feelings. Next time, I will tell you how I came to a resolution over the past five months…

(Written February 29, 2008)
I’m having a personal art crisis. It is multifaceted. I am doubting the validity of commercial art, and I am doubting the validity of my own art. Both doubts go directly against the beliefs I espouse daily as a columnist, as a mother, and as a teacher. Both doubts stem from a need to put art into my house for the purposes of design.

In my perfect world, art and I would always find each other across a crowded room in the most unexpected of places. I reject art that is purchased to be an accessory in the grand scheme of interior design. This is in part because I think loving a piece is a component of what makes art “art.” How can you love something that you chose simply because it was the right shape/size/color to fit into a specific place in the home? I need more than pragmatism to start a relationship.

We needed a sculptural element on the sideboard in the dining room. We didn’t have one before, but suddenly, I felt it was the key to the whole room. The piece needed to fit in thematically and aesthetically to the style of the room, and be just the right height and depth. I expected that we would embark on a lengthy search to find the perfect piece.

One afternoon, I was killing time at Home Goods while my daughter did a gymnastics class. Less than ten feet inside the door was displayed a large, thin-profile, hand-painted pitcher with very folksy looking instruments and music notes set against a city skyline. Funky and colorful, it suited my taste in art perfectly. There were actually two such pitchers, and the price was right, so I put them in my cart and marveled at my good fortune. They were functional pitchers with a twist, fulfilling all the needs of my sculptural quest.

But as I walked through the store, I started to doubt the pitchers. I had found them too easily. I had found them at Home Goods. Could they be considered art? The price tag obscured the label showing where they were made. What if they were mass-produced in China? Were they still art?

I examined them several times before deciding to buy them. Feeling quite a bit conflicted, I took them home anyway. At home, they suited the space on the sideboard as well as I’d hoped, but their unspectacular pedigree kept haunting me. It wasn’t hard to determine why I felt unsure about them. They were folk-art style that I wished I had found at a street fair in North Carolina, but instead they were found at a large retailer. When I peeled up the price tag, it verified that they were both hand-painted and from China. Could I accept them as art with such a mundane provenance? I espouse engaging the creative force in everyday life, and here I had been blindsided by an art connection in an unlikely place. But I was rejecting it because it wasn’t special enough. I am a hypocrite and a snob. Not a good realization.

Around the same time, I decided we needed two large canvases in the home to fulfill spatial requirements in two different rooms. Cost was prohibitive for us to purchase large works by another artist. Buying large art from a retailer would cause the same problems for me that the Home Goods purchase caused. I decided the art would need to be created within the family.

I bought the blank canvases and I’ve been staring at them for weeks. My mind sees the images I want on them, but I am certain that whatever I paint or draw, or ask someone else in the family to paint or draw, won’t be “good enough” for such a large art statement. I tell people constantly to make their own art, and my home has plenty of family-crafted art, but this time, I am feeling paralyzed by the idea.

A terrific documentary aired on PBS called “Freeway Philharmonic.” It’s about the folks who make a living as freelance orchestra musicians and they exemplify that art is as important as breathing. Have your Tivo keep a watch for a repeat airing, or go to http://www.freewayphil.com/ to find information about where you can catch it. It is inspiring and humbling.

A friend and Art and About reader directed me to an article in The New Republic about (I will quote my friend here):

….on the surface, it’s a book review, but in essence it’s a long discussion and meditation on the role of music in human life and culture. Also, the comments seem to apply as well to other art forms. Among the questions discussed:

Does the “value” of music depend on its cultural and temporal context, or does it transcend culture and time?

What does the concept of “pure” art mean?

To what extent is music a universal language, carrying meanings that are perceived similarly by diverse listeners in diverse circumstances?

Does music have a moral dimension?

Does it enlighten or otherwise humanize its listeners?

Does “classical” or “fine” music have enlightening or inspirational qualities that “folk” or “pop” or “commercial” music does not?

This is a meaty article, which may require several readings to digest. It took me an hour to read the whole thing the first time so before you tackle it, I recommend pouring yourself a hot beverage, getting on some comfy clothes and settling down in your favorite chair. Then prepare to go on an intellectual adventure. I’m still processing all the information it contains, and it has been several weeks since I first read it.

Keep living artfully!

I noticed on my list that about a year ago, my daughter asked me an awkward question. She caught me sailing through the house during my cleaning routine and said, “Mama, listen to the song I made up about a guinea pig.” She sang the song, followed by the query, “I made that up. What song did you make up today?” I was so embarrassed. Oh my goodness, it was already 9:30 a.m. and I had yet to make up a song for the day. In fact, I hadn’t set aside any time on my schedule that day to make up a song, and I didn’t have the flexibility to squeeze a song in. I backed out of the room mumbling about getting back to my cleaning, admiring her attitude and feeling ashamed of my priorities.

In the past year, she has produced an oeuvre of original compositions. Some she sings once and forgets. Some she hums again and again while playing, riding in the car or taking a bath. A few, her brother has even picked up and begun humming. She doesn’t quite write a song a day (to my knowledge) but she is way ahead of my output.

When I tuned my ears to it, I started to realize that kids are writing and singing original compositions at school, on the playground, in grocery stores, restaurants, anywhere you can name. I help out in my son’s classroom and one young lady writes songs to help her do addition. She sings them to herself while she does equations in her head. Creative and practical!

I teach choir classes to preschoolers and kindergarteners and we have a periodic activity called “music sharing.” The kids thought it up. After a session full of singing songs I taught them, the children wanted to teach me some songs. I expected them to sing tried and true tot classics but that isn’t what they meant. They wanted to share songs they had written. I learn what is going on in their lives from those songs.

At the end of class we all sing a ditty I made up: “Sing the song that’s in your heart all the day through. Sing the song that’s in your heart and let your love shine through.” I wrote the song because we needed an age-appropriate class closer that I hoped would send a positive message about singing. Turns out, the kids are living this message every day, with our without my encouragement.

Adults don’t sing songs they made up at school, on playgrounds or in grocery stores. Adults have learned that there are “appropriate” places to sing, and “inappropriate” places to sing. As children, that is either what the adults in our lives told us, or it is what we learned from our peers at a certain age. What is that age? Probably about the same time we become self-conscious about everything else. Probably about the same time we start to try to be more like everyone else at the expense of our own uniqueness. Most of us never go back to making up a song a day, let alone singing it for the world to hear.

What would the world be like if we never lost that impulse? Would it end wars, feed the hungry or make the poor rich? Can you say with certainty that it wouldn’t? My little ditty may be more than just a preschool class closer. It could be an eye opener, if we open our ears to the music pouring from the hearts of the children.

Sing the song that’s in your heart all the day through. Sing the song that’s in your heart and let your love shine through.