Working in Paris, London, and New York in the early 1950s, photographer Irving Penn (American, 1917–2009) created masterful representations of skilled tradespeople dressed in work clothes and carrying the tools of their occupations. A neutral backdrop and natural light provided the stage on which his subjects could present themselves with dignity and pride.

I think this show would be fantastic to use for education programs.  With an older group, I can see lots of great conversations about class and race differences taking place.  For the younger ones, the simplicity of the background coupled with the details of the individuals’ outfits and tools really sparks the imagination; the images would lend themselves perfectly to a drawing or writing activity.  How fun would it be to do a writing activity based on the classic “what do you want to be when you grow up?” prompt, only this time kids would see deep sea diver or balloon vendor as an option?

This past month I’ve returned to my work as an educator at The American Folk Art Museum after what felt like a very long summer hiatus.  It is such a joy to be back there, and to have three fabulous new shows to teach from.  So far I’ve especially enjoyed introducing students to the “Approaching Abstraction” show, particularly to one artist who was new to me as well– Judith Scott.

Judith’s work– sculptural pieces made mostly of wrapped and tied yarn– is not only eye-catching and discussion-provoking, but her life story is inspiring.  Judith (like many folk and outsider artists) came to art later in life, through an art-making course at the Creative Growth Art Center in Oakland, CA.  Creative Growth specializes in working with disabled adults, and proved to be a turning point for Judith, who suffered from Downs Syndrome and was also deaf.  During a rug-making class, Judith began to use the provided materials in a completely different way– rather than hooking a rug, she began to wrap (and wrap and wrap) yarn around various objects she found in the studio.  There are stories of staff members losing personal objects and realizing Judith had taken them to cover in yarn.

The result of Judith’s unique situation and approach to her art means that no one can be exactly sure what lies within her work– neither literally (what actual object she used as the base) nor figuratively (what her intention was).  Many have hypothesized that creating these abstract forms, many of which have a baby-like quality to them, served as a way for Judith to reconnect with her twin sister, Joyce.  Joyce and Judith were separated at age four, when Judith was sent to live in an institution.  However one student of mine convincingly argued that the repeated act of wrapping was not a comforting, swaddling action, but representative of Judith feeling held-in, trapped, and misunderstood.  Good work.

Luckily, Judith’s life story has a happy ending– Joyce tracked Judith down later in life, brought her to home to live, and enrolled her in her first art class.  You can read more about their story here.

I love teaching young people about folk art because, as demonstrated by Judith’s amazing story, there are drastically different and often unconventional ways the artists in the Museum arrived there.  Rather than the exclusive or formal environment so often associated with high-art institutions, the Folk Art Museum automatically sets the art and museum world up as something accessible,and I find that to be an incredibly empowering notion.

If only museums weren’t struggling quite so much, and if only there were a way for visitors to really interact so intimately with an art object!

It occurred to me that it would be a whole lot more interesting to see a documentary about LaGuardia High School, the real-life NYC Public High School for the Performing Arts, on which the school in Fame is based.  I’m betting actual New York City students would be infinitely more interesting to watch on film that the one-dimensional creations in Fame.

Take for example the documentary Frontrunners, which chronicles the student body president election at the prestigious Stuyvesant High School, or Mad Hot Ballroom, about a ballroom dancing arts education program in NYC public elementary schools.  Check out the trailers here, and put them on the list for your next movie night.

One thing I love about working in museum education are the multitude of avenues through which a visitor finds herself at a given museum or exhibit.  In New York, you’ll encounter people who have journeyed internationally for the express purpose of seeing a certain work of art, and you’ll encounter those who need a warm place to spend a few hours.  Hopefully now I can add real estate buffs to that list!

It definitely seems like the exhibit is feeding off a residual excitement from the Titanic-mania of 1997.  Not only is there the gift shop’s DVD section, I also spoke with a friendly security guard who informed me that the exhibit’s replica of the ship’s grand staircase was “just like the movie.”  In a college seminar on visual culture, we spent a good deal of time discussing blockbuster culture and questions of materiality.  My professor argued that Titanic– as a commercial enterprise– was unique for its immateriality; there were no Titanic action figure or Titanic Happy Meal.  (see Alexandra Keller’s “Size Does Matter,” available in this Google Preview).  I always understood this to account for things like my friends who watched the movie on VHS every day for almost a year, the countless “Behind the Scenes” features on The History Channel, and the fact that at age 14 I died my hair the same color red as Kate Winslet’s.  The artifact exhibit seems just another way to capitalize on our desire to be able to possess some sort of tangible evidence of an intangible experience, whether that’s a historic tragedy or a blockbuster film.

So I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether or not it’s worth the $25 admission fee.