Showing posts with label Teaching and Learning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teaching and Learning. Show all posts

Saturday, November 8, 2014

CELEBRANDO 84 AÑOS


 
Hoy es el cumpleaños de mi abuelita Isabel, bueno, está inscrita como Ysabel, pero para mí resulta raro. Mi hermano publicó unas palabras muy lindas en Facebook dedicadas a ella y las ha compartido conmigo para embellecer mi blog. J
 
Por Jesús Alejandro
 
¡Feliz cumpleaños María Ysabel Fajardo! Así es, un día como hoy hace 84 años nació la mujer que más influencia ha tenido y que, de toda su generación, ha llegado más lejos en la familia. A ella también debo gran parte de mi formación y de los valores y los principios que tengo como hombre; en parte, hoy soy quien soy gracias a ella y estoy orgulloso y agradecido de que Dios me la haya regalado como abuela. Su historia es fascinante, es una mujer que verdaderamente se hizo a sí misma;  pienso que un pequeño homenaje en su día es requerido.
 
 
 
María Ysabel Fajardo (Isabel, o Isabelita de aquí en adelante), hija de Manuela Fajardo y Lico Rabasa nació en el poblado de Juan Barón, una zona rural del actual municipio de Palma Soriano en la provincia Santiago de Cuba en 1930. Contaba Manuela que Isabel nació en zurrón y que gritó en su vientre. Dada la ignorancia, el abandono y otras circunstancias de las personas a su alrededor en ese tiempo ella es una de los pocos ciudadanos cubanos con un solo apellido, el de su madre. Su padre falleció envenenado a causa de no seguir las indicaciones estrictas de un tratamiento médico cuando ella tenía solamente cinco años de edad. En ese entonces ella aún no estaba inscrita en el registro civil de Palma Soriano. La familia del padre tenía cierta posición social en el cercano poblado de Aguacate, el soporte financiero del hogar, sin embargo, lo llevaban las cuatro. Manuela ganaba $2.00 por semana haciendo las tareas hogareñas de una de las familias adineradas del pueblo y en tiempos de zafra cafetalera las cuatro se iban a las montañas a recolectar el codiciado grano. Cuando al fin reunieron la increíble suma de $25.00, mandaron a construir un bohío en Aguacate e hicieron de ese poblado su nueva residencia. Isabelita empezó a impresionar a todos a su alrededor por su tenacidad, inteligencia y astucia desde muy temprana edad. En cuarto grado su maestra ofreció llevársela a vivir con ella con el pretexto de darle atención especial y una educación más avanzada. La propuesta fue aceptada pero resultó que la niña -de diez u once años- fue esclavizada para cuidar a la anciana madre de la maestra en su propia residencia. Después de algún tiempo Isabel regresó con su madre a Aguacate, pero jamás retornó a la escuela. Dado el carácter pasivo de Manuela, Isabelita fue responsable de educar a sus hermanas menores en los principios cristianos y mantener la economía de la casa a flote desde los 14 años. Isabel aprendió el arte de diseñar ropa y de coser por sus propios esfuerzos; una habilidad que puso en práctica para apoyar el esfuerzo laboral de su madre. Más tarde aprendió varios aspectos de la peluquería, lo cual marcó una gran diferencia en su solvencia económica. Se casó de veinte años y tuvo dos hijos con un hombre que abusó de ella y de los niños emocional y físicamente. Tuvo un enfrentamiento con su esposo, que era militar del gobierno de ese tiempo (1950), donde él le apuntó con un revólver calibre .45; ella expuso su pecho desnudo y le dijo: “Dispáreme ahora mismo y deje a sus hijos huérfanos de madre.” Luego de este episodio se divorció y terminó la educación primaria asistiendo a las clases junto a su primogénito. Para este entonces ya mantenía económicamente a su madre y a sus dos hijos gracias a la peluquería. Siempre tuvo fascinación por los idiomas extranjeros, particularmente el inglés, pero nunca pudo estudiar gracias a su estricta responsabilidad de mantener el hogar y, como ella misma dice, su “analfabetismo funcional.” Isabel construyó un imperio, una identidad y una fortuna con sus propios esfuerzos, es difícil imaginar qué tan lejos hubiera llegado si hubiera tenido estudios universitarios. Su talento y su luz natural son dones mucho más grandes que la formación académica que muchos hemos recibido. Su entendimiento del mundo de los negocios, su fuerza de espíritu, su voluntad, su bondad con el pueblo que la rodea y su indomable amor por el trabajo fueron más que suficientes para construir el patrimonio que tiene hoy, y esto es admirable especialmente en un país con un sistema como el de Cuba. Isabelita ha sido una mujer que siempre abogó por educar a los jóvenes en todos los aspectos de la vida, desde saber disfrutar de la cocina más selecta, hablar idiomas extranjeros, conocimiento de música, deportes, la academia hasta saber bailar, o iniciar una conversación; estas son cosas que no constituyen todo en la vida, pero, viniendo de una persona nacida en una zona rural, que se crio en un bohío con piso de tierra y que ni siquiera terminó los estudios primarios, es admirable su determinación y su deseo de alcanzar no menos que la excelencia en todo lo que hace.
¡Muchas felicidades mi reina y que Dios te bendiga hoy y siempre!
 
 

 
84 years ago today, my grandmother was born. She is the single, most influential, most successful person of her entire generation in the family. She is partially responsible for my upbringing, my core values and my principles as well as for the man that I have become. I am very thankful to God and very proud that she is my grandmother. Her story is fascinating; she is truly a self-made woman. The following is a very condensed homage to her.
María Ysabel Fajardo (Isabel, henceforth) was born to Manuela Fajardo and Lico Rabasa in the rural settlement of Juan Barón just outside the boundary of the city of Palma Soriano but within its municipal reach. The year was 1930. Manuela frequently told that Isabel was born en-caul and that she cried in the womb. Given the ignorance, the general lack of interest, and other circumstances of the times, Isabel is one of the very few Cuban citizens with only one last name, her mother’s. Isabel’s father passed away due to poisoning for not following the directions of a very strict medical treatment, Isabel was only five years old. By then, however, Isabel’s name was still not registered. Lico’s family was well off; however, Manuela and her three daughters never received any help with the household finances. Manuela made a total of $2.00 a week as a house maid at a wealthy household and, during the times of coffee harvest, she and the three girls would go into the mountains to pick coffee beans. They were able to save the whooping sum of $25.00, and they had a bohío (a small hut with walls made out of palm tree bark and roof made out of palm tree leaves) built in the nearby settlement of Aguacate. Isabel’s intelligence and cleverness was apparent to many from a young age. Her fourth grade teacher offered to take Isabel to live with her making everyone believe that she would educate Isabel with a more direct focus. This proved to be a scam since Isabel was practically enslaved to care for the elderly mother of the teacher. Sometime after, Isabel returned to Aguacate with her mother, but she never went back to school. Given Manuela’s passiveness in life, Isabel was responsible for educating her two younger sisters outside of school as well as providing financially for the house since the age of 14. Isabel taught herself how to design clothes and how to sow; this skill enabled her to support her mother’s work effort tremendously. Later on in life she learned hairstyling, which was a pivotal point in her financial independence. Isabel married at 20 years old and had two kids with a man who abused her and the children emotionally and physically. Her husband, a military officer of the 1950’s government in Cuba aimed his .45 caliber revolver at her in one occasion; filled with courage Isabel told him to shoot her right there and make the two boys orphans. After this episode she divorced her husband and decided to finish her elementary education by going to school along her first-born child. By this time she was financially independent and supported her two boys and her mother. Isabel was always fascinated by foreign languages, especially English; however, she was never able to study anything due to her responsibilities of providing a roof and food on the table for her family as well as her own “functional illiteracy” as she called it. Despite this, she was able to build an empire, a trademark identity and a fortune all by herself. There is no telling how far she could have gone had she obtained a university education. Her natural talents are gifts much greater than the academic formation many of us have received. Her understanding of the business world, her willpower, her charisma, her acts of kindness and her indomitable love for hard work have been more than enough for her to build her legacy. This is especially admirable in a country with an economic system like Cuba. Isabel is a woman who has always advocated for educating the young in and out of the classroom, everything from speaking foreign languages, playing musical instruments to knowing how to dance or start a conversation. It may not sound like much, but coming from someone who classifies herself as an illiterate, she deserves no less than the utmost admiration for her desire and determination to achieve excellence in everything she does.
Happy birthday grandma, I love you. God bless you always!
 
 
 

Monday, August 25, 2014

PEARLS

 

 
 Video by Chaly
 
 
Chaly, Nathalie, Nicholas
 
 
 
Nathalie, Nicholas, Tía Dino
 


Ibid.
 
 
 

Little Nathalie & Friends
 

 
 
 
Los señores escritores de segundo grado
 
 
 
Briana at the WITS Young Writers Reading
 
 
 
Ms. Callis & Los señores escritores de segundo grado
 
 
 
She is a writer!

 
 

Los señores escritores de segundo grado & Ms. Dinorah
 
 
 
Ms. April & the young artists
 
 
 
Ms. April & Ms. Dinorah

 
 


Music by Jesús Alejandro
 


Thursday, May 1, 2014

THE SILENCE


Jodi and Connor
 
By Jodi Hawkins                                                                    

Mark 3:1-6

Now He entered the synagogue again, and a man was there who had a paralyzed hand.  In order to accuse Him, they were watching him closely to see whether He would heal him on the Sabbath.  He told the man with the paralyzed hand, “Stand before us.”  Then He said to them, “Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?”  But they were SILENT.  After looking around at them with anger and sorrow at the hardness of their hearts, He told the man, “Stretch out your hand.”  So he stretched out it out, and his hand was restored.  Immediately the Pharisees went out and started plotting with the Herodians against Him, how they might destroy Him.

OK. So once again I stand on the threshold of mind-blowingness at the Holy Word of God.  I know that mind-blowingness is not a word, but there isn’t a word in the language currently that describes this indescribable overwhelming realization of how very big God is, how amazingly the Holy Spirit opens up eyes and ears to read pages printed on a piece of paper and then your whole world can become the highest supersonic high-def you could ever dare to envision.

Thankfully as disturbing as it is to my perceived human reality, He chooses to still blow up these pages for me…and by the way, there is nothing special about me.  If you ask, He will do the same for you.  He is mind-blowing like that.

So, this morning as I read these –literally– six sentences, I realized the irony of some things.  Like, why would you even need to ask someone which is better, to kill or to save, let alone, men of God?  Is this for real? These guys Jesus is speaking to are not just some people hanging out at the synagogue. They are keepers of the law; they know it inside and out. They eat, live and breathe the LAW.  Ah, but you see, here’s where it gets tricky.  They know the books, they know the statutes, they know what’s acceptable in that particular church society.  I mean, it was handed down to them from God. 

Adherence to Law over Love.  Sound familiar?

So, why can’t they answer a question that my son could at 10?  Good question. 

Note their silence.  Do you suppose they are quiet because it is one of the laws not to heal on the Sabbath?  Maybe they are posing the word heal instead of work at their discretion.  And since when did healing someone or helping someone –if you have the means and the power– become work?  Put the brakes on. Maybe they just don’t like the fact that this guy, Jesus, is doing things they could never dream of doing (side note:  He is not reaping the benefits of the human affluence and opulence that these men of God are) and so they are intimidated. Of course, we know this is what Jesus came for, to bring truth to earth so that we might be put back into right standing with our heavenly Father since the fall in the garden –but mind you, people still make their own decisions, and many up to this very moment are dangerously wielding the freedom that Jesus died to give them. I pray we wield it carefully.

So they are indignant and silent.  This angers and sorrows Jesus.  Remember these are the same people for whom he’s going to suffer much anguish, mental, physical and spiritual pain.  Because He suffered for ALL people to have the same opportunity of freedom from death, if they accept it (that’s the important part).  Okay, so Jesus heals the man and IMMEDIATELY the Pharisees head out to start plotting his demise.

Do you see the hardness of their hearts and why Jesus is so angered and sorrowful?  They follow the law but have no love.  They can recite the whole Law from memory, yet they have no compassion for those who are hurting.  They are hypocrites.  They are misrepresenting God and for Jesus this is a HUGE problem. As it should be for us today.

So as I am digesting these verses this morning, I had earlier read a post on Facebook on some stats of the “church”:

Why does the church in the West retain 90+% of God's resources for itself?

Why does the church in the West share only the leftovers with the Nations?

Why do the unengaged and unreached people groups today still lack even minimal access to the gospel?

Why is the bulk of sacrificial offerings directed toward buildings, staff salaries, and educational materials for those already in the Kingdom?

These stats are taken from a book, The Insanity of Obedience by Nik Ripken.  A book I would highly recommend to anyone who is interested in understanding what we as Christians need to be focused on (not just a few chosen by the way, this is a mandate to anyone who claims to follow Jesus).  It’s the same thing Jesus was and is focused on, the commission to go to the Nations and spread the gospel to the ends of the earth. Whether in your own neighborhood or across the world, in some way.

Okay, so with that Facebook post reeling in my head as I am reading this scripture, this one thing kept popping up in my mind: “Are we any different, us Christians?” Are we all bound up in the law so much, church traditions, and our own ideals of what it means to be “Christian,” that we forget to love?  Well, then if we are it’s no wonder the world doesn’t notice us, no wonder they can’t tell us apart from everyone else, no wonder they don’t see us as different, no wonder all this time has passed since Jesus suffered and died on that cross and there are still people who haven’t even heard his name in our neighborhood, let alone in the Nations.

I don’t know if what I am trying to say is getting through.  I pray it does.  I don’t have any theological training, as you can tell, but I do have the Holy Spirit. It doesn’t make me an expert in conveying this. It makes me a sinner like anyone who is reading this, a sinner who is allowing God to work out her own salvation, as Paul puts it, with fear and trembling.  And I tell you this one is going to be important.  I’d say imperative.

So please, wake up Church –myself not excluded. Stop worrying about raising more money for a better sound system when there are people who have never heard the name of Jesus Christ or know the sole purpose of his life and death.  Stop planning church picnics and potlucks when people in your neighborhood are suffering physically for lack of resources and spiritually for need of the gospel.  Stop worrying about church rules and rhetoric and do the thing that Jesus wants us to do. To love, the rest will follow.

Please Father God I pray that we wake up.  I pray that we don’t stand silently by in our churchness while only a stone’s throw away people suffer for lack of the truth that Jesus lived and died to bring.  I pray when Jesus asks us if it’s lawful on the Sabbath to save life or to kill, we respond with the right answer, the right action. If you’re not sure what that right action or word is, just look at the cross again. As a matter of fact, don’t take your eyes off it, church.   

Too much is at stake.

I pray that those who have eyes would see and those who have ears would hear. 



Jodi Hawkins is: Wife and mother
                              Follower of Jesus Christ
                              Intercessor
                              Missionary
 
 

Saturday, April 12, 2014

FOUND POETRY SERIES: THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SQUIRREL





THE MOUNTAIN and the squirrel  
Had a quarrel;

                                                    




And the former called the latter "Little Prig."       
    





Bun replied,   
"You are doubtless very big;          
But all sorts of things and weather    
Must be taken in together,     
To make up a year      
And a sphere.  






And I think it no disgrace      
To occupy my place.  



 


If I'm not as large as you,      
You are not so small as I,       
And not half so spry.  






I'll not deny you make           
A very pretty squirrel track;   
Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;        






If I cannot carry forests on my back, 
Neither can you crack a nut."

Ralph Waldo Emerson 





Sunday, December 8, 2013

FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE


One of Mami's Little Treasures


By Ms. Dinorah


People teach us the way they like to be treated. They put us in our place. I once had a high school student who clarified to me, “Lady, you ain’t my momma. You don’t pay my rent. You don’t pay my bills. You ain’t gonna tell me what to do. I don’t owe you respect just because you are a teacher. You’re nobody.” Well, I had asked him to do something that he didn’t want to do. I took him to the principal’s office. I myself didn’t know what to do. I had yelled and screamed, which I shouldn’t have done. He was right. Although I didn’t like the way it sounded, what he said was true.
Sometimes, we teachers judge our students’ reactions toward us inaccurately. Matthew Lipman says, “Seeing children as irrational rather than as resolute in protecting their own integrity is a misinterpretation of childhood experience.” The same happens with high school students and people, in general. It is so easy to judge others because they don’t engage. Maybe we are not engaging. Or, maybe they have engaged in more meaningful and rewarding activities. We are not perfect. There were occasions when I didn’t even want to go to this school. I know it sounds terrible. It is the truth. I never missed a work day. I had the confidence that working in that place would translate into something positive in the long run, like patient endurance, besides my standard certificate, but I wasn’t joyful there, and it showed. “You hate this job,” another student had told me earlier in the year. My heart whispered, “Yes, I do…” I didn’t admit it. I wanted so much to make a difference by becoming a classroom teacher. It didn’t work out.
I may be called to teach, but I am not a superhero. That’s what classroom teachers are. They are superheroes, having to deal not only with teaching, discipline, procedures but also with an avalanche of paperwork and external pressure. I have strengths and weaknesses. I enjoy crafting creative learning instances where students are invited to explore, to discover, but I dislike enforcing them upon those who choose to do otherwise. And I love teamwork. Teamwork enhances the quality of any experience in addition to providing opportunities for people to learn from one another. Each person brings his/her own strengths to the table and helps the other become stronger. Most of my former high school students were extremely generous with me. They saw me as a happy person and accepted me, despite my ineffectiveness as a standard classroom teacher and frequent screaming. Some produced wonderful work and, with their resilient attitudes, inspired me to never lose faith in the goodness of people. These, the Doctors of Creativity, were mostly from my junior class, along with a few bright committed sophomores. Others, like a freshman I will call Mr. Unreachable, and to whom nothing I did or said was worth his full presence in the classroom, were given the chance to practice at least for a little while how to put up with someone who hadn’t been called to be their typical teacher.
Interestingly, after the student from paragraph 1 made it clear to me that I wasn’t his mother, he began working even harder than he previously had had. He was always among the first ones in turning in assignments and following directions that often I didn’t even have to give. Not that the whole situation became ideal because we suddenly started to behave impeccably either as a classroom teacher or a student. My best memories still come from the moments when we worked as a team, in peace and harmony, respecting each other’s views, differences, and experiences. I made many more mistakes, and they forgave me. And they also made mistakes, and I forgave them. From time to time, I still use my student’s words to rebuke negative, faultfinding voices screaming in my head. After all, these voices ain’t my momma. They don’t pay my rent (my little brother does). They don’t pay my bills. And they definitely ain’t no teacher. 



Wednesday, November 20, 2013

UNDERSTANDING FLOWERS





By Ms. Dinorah


It is fascinating the way each and every person may contribute to our understanding of things. Without their examinations or insights, the notion of the object in question would be incomplete. Children, especially, have a lot to say when given the opportunity to do so. Their views are fresh and enlightening. The naturalness and freedom with which they associate ideas challenge even well-supported perceptions. Yesterday, during our sharing time, when students are invited to read their creative works out loud, I suggested that the audience asked one subject-related question to the reader. (Each second grader had written a poem about a particular noun –octopus, saxophone, drums, jaguar, flower…) So after reading her/his poem to the whole class, the writer would answer one question.
Many enquired for details, information, which motivated imaginative answers and refreshing considerations. One of the students asked, “So, then, what is a flower?” The question was inspired by a poem that expressed how the writer experienced the word flower, with regards to two adjectives of her choice, a memory, three creative comparisons entailing qualities like smell, color and form, the existence (or not) of a random attribute given by me (the teacher), and two actions beautifully developed in depth by the student herself. The question, “What is a flower?” left me out of breath. Not many people have the courage –or the brilliance- to ask that question despite the fact that they don’t have a clue about what a flower is scientifically, philosophically, artistically. In the best possible scenarios, they may have conformed to the description recorded in a Botany book, or perhaps, a dictionary. Not that a book description is wrong (although sometimes it does happen to be lifeless). I read a couple of definitions of flowers here and there, and they seemed very convincing, explaining that the flower is “the seed-bearing part of a plant” or a bloom. Some of the definitions included information that made me picture the flower as a reproductive machine.
Now here is what the little writer said, “A flower is a seed that grows, with petals and leaves.” Again I was amazed. My answer wouldn’t have been so accurate. I, and possibly many adults along with me, for that matter, might have spent a long, long time pondering why I had been asked that question, what the meaning behind it was, or what could happen if my answer was not right. In just a few poetic words, she captured the lively transformational essence of a flower. She didn’t say that the flower had seeds to be spread and multiplied. No, the flower itself, with petals and leaves, is a seed that grows… The more I teach my students, the more I want to learn from them. It is so illuminating the way children see, how they find their way through science and creative expression and the novelties they come up with. Without a second grader’s view of flowers, the book description and definition still are partial and incomplete.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

UNA CARTA DEL BALNEARIO


Aida Ubeto Morales en Vuelo de Esperanza (imagen de contracubierta)
Diseño gráfico y collage: Mayra y Mayren Espina




Por Aida Ubeto Morales


          Aquí crecí, junto a mis abuelos. Por eso es importante para mí. Me sorprendió encontrarme familias viviendo en ese lugar, por supuesto muchos niños, más de 18.  Dediqué 2 días a estos lindos niños, y te voy a resumir lo que hicimos, les mostré un álbum de fotos artísticas que tenía junto conmigo. Para ellos fue sensacional ver saltos, poses, expresiones y más, disfrutamos de la lectura de un cuento que recibirás, leído en 2 idiomas. Tuvimos oportunidad de bailar –imagina una clase de zumba. Los niños y las niñas participaron sin pena ninguna, reían y se involucraron. Además tuvimos jornada de limpieza para que aprendan a conservar su ambiente –estaba muy descuidado y lucía un tanto riesgoso.
          Todos se autoevaluaron durante esta actividad. Muchas personas familiares y amigos me dijeron que perdería mi tiempo. Ya me conoces, no me detengo, así que continúe disfrutando de sus habilidades y nadamos en el agua, jugamos, conversamos y al final, paseamos en lancha. Para algunos, era la primera vez, puesto que este es el medio de trabajo de sus padres, no es diversión pasear en lancha como para nosotros. Pero los padres fueron muy amables y confiaron en mí. Hicimos 2 paseos, uno corto para los pequeños y luego navegamos una distancia más grande para los grandes porque no entrábamos todos en la lancha. Esto fue en Venezuela, en el estado de Zulia, a orillas del Lago de Maracaibo.
           Algo con lo que me quedo, además de lo fascinante que fue todo esto, es una foto de la hermana de una de las niñas, la cual no se encontraba.
La niña me dio la foto de su hermana cuando me estaba despidiendo de ellos. Imagino que me obsequió esta fotografía como para que me diera cuenta de que a ella le hubiera encantado que su hermana hubiera estado presente para compartir la experiencia.
          Además, me llamaron por teléfono. ¡No lo podía creer! Ahora mantenemos contacto y me dicen que limpian la playa y me preguntan cuando iré... algo preocupante para mí porque no entienden que vivo en otro país. Sin embargo cuando hablo con sus familiares les pido que les expliquen qué tan difícil puede ser para mí regresar, me encantaría visitarlos de nuevo en 2 años otra vez. Espero Dios me permita realizarlo, ¡debo trabajar para eso! Todo lo que te describí lo anuncié en el periódico local, espero conseguir ayuda para continuar con otro Vuelo de Esperanza para ellos.




       Ahora me voy a dormir.

       Aida.


Aida Ubeto Morales egresó de la Escuela de Educación de la Universidad Central de Venezuela y culminó su maestría en Educación para Niños con Necesidades Especiales en Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Ejerce como terapeuta educativa para mejorar e incrementar habilidades en los niños regulares o con necesidades especiales desde que nacen y hasta los tres años de edad, en el Miami Children’s Hospital. Aporta de manera filantrópica en ámbitos de la educación, capacitación docente y el desarrollo de actividades deportivas para niños. Vive en la ciudad de Homestead, al Sur del Estado de la Florida, Estados Unidos.


Monday, August 19, 2013

AGUDAS, LLANAS Y ESDRÚJULAS






Amor: canción satisfacción decisión acción
imaginar París, papá, país, portón
perdonar, caminar
tiburón maní, comezón, medicación,
león lección rebelión
religión exclamación
oración, transición común
José fundó, Salomón salió,
Jesús caminó, llegó, derrumbó, construyó
pensará, volará, encontrará solución,
admiración, admisión, evaluación
mamá nació
bebé bebió
Julián mostró perfección, educación
confirmación
corazón. 


Cuaderno rosa, libro margarita, lápiz, dedo
delgado
seductora palabra maniobra,
estudiante hermano
amado
brazo rompecabezas sentado
mientras
abuela duerme
recuerdo agotado
calles, gatos, gallos, conejos blancos
infantiles
barcos impresos
camisetas zurcidas
torcidas, edificios altos torres dormidas
cristales mariposa
panales
pañales
paneles desplazados juegan juegos jugando gerundio
viajo, viaje abeja
vieja impresora
niña grabadora
papeles colores descansan sobre sillas
bajo sombrillas amarillas.


Diálogo, centímetro eléctrico
círculo didáctico, término,
código: oxígeno fantástico
comprárselo, médico
imágenes útiles, órdenes, cárceles
México
caótico
cómpralo
cerámica agrícola
sílaba cúspide tarántula
técnicas máquinas
lágrimas
fósforos números
matemática
triángulo rectángulo
vértice, cálculo
pirámide esdrújula geométrica
ángulo micrófono, teléfono
carátula
espátula
aritmética.


Sunday, August 11, 2013

"EVERY HUMAN BEING IS AN ARTIST"



The Art of Trenise
TGF Hair Salon, Walmart # 1040



“Every human being is an artist”
Joseph Beuys


Joseph Beuys and Allan Kaprow infused real energy, the energy of real-life events, into their works. One may say that for these creators, art had the same value as any other occurrence like breathing, walking, sweeping the floor. Both of them saw an artistic potential in the ordinary aspects of life, filling their materials with the poetry, dynamism, and emotions of the unexpected, the unlikely, while inviting the casual viewer, or even the curator in the case of Beuys, to become an active participant in the elaborations/interpretations of the works. In this sense, life and art were approached as an indivisible unity generating rhythms of existence, gestures, forces that create harmony and balance, as well as revelatory marks that restore liveliness and sensations.
According to Mark Rosenthal, Beuys’s primary job as an artist was to encourage notions of a better world, inspired by the idealist context of the mid-1960s (13). He developed a project of transgression and resurrection, using organic materials like animal fat to create his flexible sculptures. He saw in art the opportunity to stage elements of life that have spiritual and intellectual implications but that are not considered conventionally attractive. Rosenthal comments that Beuys thought of a sculpture as a reusable resource, mutable as life itself (25). Terms like energy, movement, and action nurtured his work, allowing the commonplace to be transformed into the extraordinary and poetic (57). The artist frequently explored “the wound” in his art, a term connected with illnesses of all kinds, incursions in a body, openings into the ground, and emotional scars and suffering (Rosenthal 68). Sometimes his works served as healing centers that evoked trust in chance events and faith. Rosenthal argues that Beuys “created situations in which warmth and therapeutic healing could take place through revitalizing energy and change” (75). Death as a means of channeling consciousness was another of Beuys’s favorite topics, seen in his constant treatment of disintegrating materials. His sculptural work has been termed Postminimalism because of his use of industrially derived materials with unconventional substances and his meaningful approach to geometry (Rosenthal 99).
Kaprow also worked on moving away from the specialized zones of art toward the particular places and occasions of everyday life (Kelley xii). As Jeff Kelley affirms, he was interested in the meanings of life and all his writings consisted of philosophical inquiries about the nature of experience (xiii). Kaprow identified five models of communication that include situations, operations, structures, feedback and learning (xvi). For him, the notion of forms had to do with mental imprints projected upon the world as metaphors of our mentality, which were to be useful only by opening up to innocence, humor and spontaneity (xxii). In one of his articles, Kaprow writes that we must be acrobats (not critics) to properly grasp the impact of Jackson Pollock’s work since his paintings seem to have a “fascinating simplicity and directness” (5-7). Kaprow described the happenings as events that happen, although they appear to go nowhere, do not make any particular literary point and have no structured beginning, middle or end (16). Their form is open-ended and fluid, gathering a number of essential and intense occurrences in natural surroundings. The element of chance, as in the case of the surrealists, occupies an important position in the happenings. As Kaprow argues, “chance is a deliberately employed mode of operating that penetrates the whole composition and its character,” becoming the vehicle to the spontaneous and implying risk and fear (19). In this regard, the happenings reveal a spirit that is passive in its acceptance of what may occur and affirmative in its disregard of security (Kaprow 21).
There is no distinction between the happenings and the daily life. Happenings use materials that come from life, are dispersed, variable and independent of the convention of continuity, avoid form theories associated with the arts, are not rehearsed, and exercise no control over audiences. Essentially, the happenings provide a platform, where “the artist” takes the risk of becoming a human being. 
 


Artists/Writers Consulted:


Z)   Beuys               
©)  Kaprow               
)   Kelley                 
2)   Rosenthal           
a)   Trenise               


Tuesday, July 2, 2013

PATIENT PLANET





Doctor, your words made a big difference on my planet yesterday. And I couldn’t help wondering the way that courageous student would feel if she had the chance to read your article. I think she would feel extremely happy to have become an inspiration to you. She would feel like a star! If I were that high school student, I would. So, allow me to thank you in her name. Women need to feel valued and cherished, especially by noble men such as yourself. I know this because I am a woman. Coincidentally, I received a very nice and encouraging email from a dear friend yesterday morning. After reading the email, I realized how much I needed those words, for they brightened my day.
Consider letting that amazing high school student know the way she has impacted you. There is no time to hold back love when it can make a difference in somebody’s life. If she does not reply, you would still have expressed the way you feel. Sometimes high school students are just too focused, making a difference in other people’s lives. I taught high school students for a year, and they were always involved in major projects and assignments. Anyway, if she were unable to appreciate what you’ve done for her, you can always receive love and appreciation from other sources, even if they seem a little or a lot less remarkable in their appearance.

Be assured that you rock!


               Ms. Dinorah


Sunday, June 30, 2013

SHARK, STAR AND BEYOND


Photograph by Zach Gresham



Building Blocks: A Happy Picture Book





















































































































































Photograph by Zach Gresham