The 30 Day Sketch Challenge

Aric, technically the curriculum director for SYA, but really I think of him as the boss of the SYA directors, shared an article on slack about sketching for thirty days.  During a faculty meeting I read the article.  Santo, beside me, finished the article and started sketching.  "Boh," is a common expression from Santo.  "Boh" for Italians means I don't know or who knows or who cares or maybe even whatever at times.  Santo teaches Greek and Latin and Excavating here.  We see Santo around town coming back from the gym or biking -- a recent bike outing of ours was inspired by such a Santo sighting (see Via Francigena) -- or at the Botanical Gardens.  Sometimes I see Santo sitting quietly at his desk, his headphones on, his eyes closed.  I saw him like this when I hiked up to the temple of Jupiter at Terracina, sitting cross-legged, meditating there at the top.

To my left in the director's office, I saw Santo drawing a house, like a house that little kids draw, or at least that I drew when I was a kid, with a triangle roof, square body, square windows.  He made hearts for windows and decorated the house.  The next day he was making another sketch during our meeting.  He told me, "Well, I'll see what it does."  Santo both resists and engages in the changing pedagogy of SYA.  He grew up in the Italian educational system, which was and still is about gaining information, knowledge, and mastery of such.  Experiential learning and Harkness discussions have no place in Italian education.  It's tests and public interragazione in the classroom.  Mary and Sebastian were spared interragazione in the fall; now they don't mind when they get a turn.  The teacher asks the student questions on the subject and the student answers there in front of everyone; you don't know which day your turn will be.  When Sebastian was bored in class in December, he worked out the odds of each kid's getting chosen for interragazione.

So Santo is doing the thirty day challenge, thinking that he's got to adjust with the times and the agenda of the boss of our boss.  If the school is changing, he needs to, too.  I think, Well, this could be fun.  So Hannah and I go to Tiger and buy ourselves sketchbooks for three euro each.

day 1: Hannah's sneaker is out, so I draw it.  I'm reminded of drawing a sneaker in grade school.  We had art once a week, and an art fair once a year.  It was my favorite day.  My kids love the sneaker.  It lacks perspective and dimension and all such, but they are effusive with their praise.

I go on in this vein, drawing whatever is near me at the end of the day, when I finally sit down and remember to draw.   I do the clothesline in our bedroom, a swiss army knife, an empty cup on Daniel's nightstand.

Leaves have so many details that I don't know how anyone ever draws a flower.
I like drawing trees.
I pay attention more.  It takes time to really look at things.

One night Connor was sleeping on his mattress in our room, and so I drew him.  I like this one.

I remember how, in elementary school, we had art once a week, in the afternoon after lunch, and it was always my favorite time of day.  One year I made a Jack of Hearts; one year a sneaker; one year half of a model's face to match the other half in the magazine ad.  One year we were instructed to draw the snowstorm outside.  I looked out the window of our fifth grade classroom and drew what I saw: varying shades of green, branches, black, white.  Other students had pictures of perfect trees with snow on top and snow on the ground.  My picture wasn't quite Jackson Pollock, but it was not a clear snowstorm either.  Mrs. Ryan, our teacher who could be quite harsh, told me it was great.  She told me, "I'll bet you a coke it wins in the art fair."  She owed me a coke.  I think now how wonderful she was to praise that picture that was just, well, what it was.

I draw a tree in Vetralla the first time we're there looking for the Via Francigena.  Then a street light, which, it turns out, is intricate and quite pretty.

In sketching a palm tree in Palermo, I notice what must be the dead leaves that become the bark.  I think.  Or maybe not.

What I liked about sketching was making time for it and noticing more about what's around me.  I also noticed how I don't notice sometimes.  There would be a way to learn leaves and trees and maybe even faces if I stopped and checked out the details more.  I may return to sketching this summer, see how things look back at home.