The Pissed Off Professor

I might be pushing the envelope here regarding how this particular image relates to teaching and the downward spiral I see education trapped in, but let me explain—after you look:

Jennifer Maestre’s “Owl”

Here’s the thing: this sculpture took serious thought and perseverance. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before: it’s an extraordinarily creative way to work as an artist.

Now, take another look at ALL OF THE INDIVIDUALLY CUT AND SHARPENED PENCILS: if I could convince my students to spend even half as much time on an assignment as I imagine it takes Jennifer Maestre to cut and sharpen her pencils—well, I’d be the Teaching Queen.

But, this is really all fluff: the real meat of this—the reason I care as a teacher is because of what this artist says about her work:

My sculptures were originally inspired by the form and function of the sea urchin. The spines of the urchin, so dangerous yet beautiful, serve as an explicit warning against contact. The alluring texture of the spines draws the touch in spite of the possible consequences. [. . .] Paradox and surprise are integral in my choice of materials. [. . .] There is true a fragility to the sometimes brutal aspect of the sculptures, vulnerability that is belied by the fearsome texture.

[. . .]

I started off in the direction of prickly things when I was in my last year at Mass College of Art. It all comes from one idea I had for a box with a secret compartment that would contain a pearl. The box would be shaped like a sea urchin, made of silver. In order to open the box and reveal the secret compartment, you’d have to pull on one of the urchin’s spines.

This is analytical thought at its best.

This is someone looking at something, seeing the surface, and digging inside to interpret that which runs below the surface.

Many students (and teachers and non-academics) would say that Jennifer Maestre only accomplishes this in her art because it is relevant to what she does and what she cares about. They would go on to say that if teachers would only make assignments relevant to real world situations, students would begin to care.

What possible real-world application do you think Jennifer Maestre was in the midst of when she observed the spines of a sea urchin and made all of these wonderful connections?

I don’t know how she got to this point, but I promise you, someone exposed her to the sea urchin, and she pursued that exposure by revisiting, by thinking, by touching, by asking, by a variety of inquisitive means because she wanted to learn more.

No teacher can provide desire.

All we can do is provide exposure.

As I tell my students: I provide the content of a course, but you supply the desire to learn.

This entry was posted on Friday, April 13th, 2007 at 7:38 am and is filed under Education, Research, Students, Teaching, Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.