When I was teaching, we planned in 9-week blocks. Teacher work days were scheduled for the end of the quarter, when all the assignments were (supposed to be) completed and the grades were tabulated.
In our global community, we have now completed 9 weeks of a declared pandemic; and yes, grades are being given, but there is no sense of conclusion or completeness...the possibilities of sickness and death and disruption stretch out before us. We know there will be new assignments, new lessons to learn and tests--many tests ahead of us; as individuals, communities and nations. There are no clear guidelines or rubrics, no certainly about when we will be dismissed from this school of hard knocks and tough lessons.
I remember being in a school where our students faced significant obstacles to learning and we took the challenges day by day. At the end of a particularly challenging week, after our students had left, our principal would get on the intercom and say, "you did a good job, the roof is still on and the building is still standing--go home and have a well-deserved break." At the end of this pandemic, can we still say our roof is still on and our country is still standing? Let's take it day by day, but remember why we are here.
Map
by J. Patrick Lewis
Brash canvas,
Bleeding borders,
 |
| Jasper Johns (1930-), Map, 1961, In the collection of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) |
Kindled calm,
This is oxymoronicamerica,
Forged out of iron and lace
By people strapping and raw
Who wrestled and pinned history
To the map.
Happy as a circus boy,
Spirited as an outlaw,
Rough as a gandy dance,
This continent of tinted steel
Spread an easel of colors
On fifty pieces of scissored history--
And painted itself a self.
Heart to Heart: New Poems Inspired by Twentieth-Century American Art, Edited by Jan Greenberg, Harry N. Abrams, 2001.
One commonality of the books on my poetry shelves seems to be that a number of them capture the connection between poetry and the visual arts, such as this small volume. Certainly poetry can be painting with words and art can be poetry on canvas.
The editor invited distinguished American poets to choose a piece of American artwork to write about. Forty-three poets accepted her request. I liked this pairing of poem and painting, because they both ask us to look at something familiar and iconic, but not often closely examined. The wall label of the painting reads thusly:
"Reflecting his choice of easily recognizable images, Johns said that he was interested in "the idea of knowing an image rather than just seeing it out of the corner of your eye." The map of the United States, in its ubiquity and iconicity is "seen and not looked at, not examined." Preserving the overall proportions of the country and the shape of its states, John's energetic application of paint subverts the conventions of cartography, as do the stenciled names of states, such as Colorado, which is repeated in several locations. Map invites close inspections because its content is both familiar and imaginary."
Text from the MoMA wall label.
I think back on 1961, when this painting was created and we were striving and lurching towards both peace and war; towards civil liberties through civil unrest; our country was definitely scissored and yet we stayed connected. I've lived through tumultuous times before but now I am more uncertain about the glue that holds us together.
Spread an easel of colors
On fifty pieces of scissored history--
And painted itself a self.
Heart to Heart: New Poems Inspired by Twentieth-Century American Art, Edited by Jan Greenberg, Harry N. Abrams, 2001.
One commonality of the books on my poetry shelves seems to be that a number of them capture the connection between poetry and the visual arts, such as this small volume. Certainly poetry can be painting with words and art can be poetry on canvas.
The editor invited distinguished American poets to choose a piece of American artwork to write about. Forty-three poets accepted her request. I liked this pairing of poem and painting, because they both ask us to look at something familiar and iconic, but not often closely examined. The wall label of the painting reads thusly:
"Reflecting his choice of easily recognizable images, Johns said that he was interested in "the idea of knowing an image rather than just seeing it out of the corner of your eye." The map of the United States, in its ubiquity and iconicity is "seen and not looked at, not examined." Preserving the overall proportions of the country and the shape of its states, John's energetic application of paint subverts the conventions of cartography, as do the stenciled names of states, such as Colorado, which is repeated in several locations. Map invites close inspections because its content is both familiar and imaginary."
Text from the MoMA wall label.
I think back on 1961, when this painting was created and we were striving and lurching towards both peace and war; towards civil liberties through civil unrest; our country was definitely scissored and yet we stayed connected. I've lived through tumultuous times before but now I am more uncertain about the glue that holds us together.
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