Beginnings:

As with most artists, my life, as I remember it, has never been without involvement in art production. Since my brothers were more athletic, and I had trick knees which went out of joint every time I tried to actually use them, I spent much of my childhood reading and drawing. The drawings were always done from my mind and I was constantly upset that I couldn't draw them "correctly" or color them in as neatly as some of my friends - or even more maddeningly, as well as my older brother.

At age six, I quietly discovered how to represent what I saw fairly accurately on paper, and still remember that break-through moment (now known as "drawing from the right side of the brain") when I fairly successfully copied a magazine print of a woman dressed in 1890's style clothing. I ran to show the results to my parents and their delighted response to that crayon drawing was probably the beginning of my journey into eventually making art a life-long passion.

Youth:

We all get our labels growing up, and I was known as the artist and one of the girls who played violin in the school orchestra. Since I neglected to actually learn to read music, I played by ear, memorized the pieces, and played well enough to endure junior high school. By Sr. high, my deficiencies kept me lagging behind so I finally quit rather than buckle down to work at something I lacked passion for. It was my facility for drawing that really got me hooked. I got the attention I wanted, loved the process, so continued drawing stuff I saw as well as stuff created by my imagination. A growing star in my own mind!

Later, in high school, I noticed the art work of another student who sat quietly in a front desk He kept a laser focus on his work, didn't visit like the rest of us, and the quality of his work was far beyond anything I'd ever imagined anyone my age could accomplish. I was challenged, and I began to work much harder to compete, possibly just for the sake of claiming my self-designated "super artist" role. As a result, my work improved rapidly, and I explored many new approaches for expression. It's fun to look back on that now and realize how much that experience shaped my approach to teaching art many years later. The student whose work I admired went on to become a professional artist.

College:

A time of trying to do something "worthwhile", so I dismissed art in favor of trying to learn something of "value" - like maybe math, a subject in which I carried glaring deficiencies - all an attempt to elevate a sense of self-worth. I spent a couple of years going "away" to college, living on campus, joining a sorority, feeling pointless, and left to attend the local university where I  took a few more classes, got good marks, but  lacked direction. So I quit altogether and married my high school sweetheart.
 

I returned to school in Edmonton, Alberta and San Antonio, Texas  simply because we happened to be living there (among many other places) and I was determined to get a degree before I was 30. (I was actually 32 when I finally got my BA) While attending both of those schools, I began to pursue art again, re-kindled the passion, and found myself possessed with conflicting directions.
(see San Antonio Mural)

Transition to a Career:

One child and one divorce later, I had an adorable mouth to feed and no occupation so I enrolled at the University of Washington and got my art education degree. Luckily, the decision to teach was one of the best moves of my life and it led to a very rewarding career. Before I graduated, I also met my second husband who was an art teacher, a talented artist, a great father to my daughter, as well as giving me the honored roll of step mom to his three young children. After he died many years ago I scanned and assembled much of his work to put it online:  http://don.van-wyck.org

He's Greatly missed.

Teaching Art:

Thirty years mixed the joy, enormous humor, and frustration of working with hormone-ridden high-schoolers of all stripes. I re-arranged my curriculum so beginning and advanced students were enrolled in the same classes. That way the older and more experienced students could be role models/mentors for younger students. Instruction was individualized to a great degree so only some of the class would be working together on the same thing at the same time while others were working on agreed-upon goals. I also took additional students in as "independent studies" when the lids on classes were too full to add them as regular members. The result was a jammed classroom with an atmosphere of partially controlled chaos. It seemed to work despite the loose structure, and provided what I thought to be a more challenging and creative environment. The work that these kids produced was top-notch, and we earned a reputation in our district for having a good art program which yielded high-quality work.

So many students have given me the greatest gift I could receive as a teacher: their discovery that they could tap into resources they didn't know they possessed. It didn't matter whether they went off to art school or not. It was just the gift of watching the process  - when students who took art because they needed an easy elective found they could actually create beautiful, creative, high-quality art. I also learned that those students who succeed in making art their life are those who really want it. They combine their talent with drive, passion, belief in self, have a strong work ethic, and the ability to do the legwork the system demands.

Art and music education are always the first to suffer in economic downturns. As I write this, I hear growing horror stories of program cuts, and somewhat selfishly feel that I was lucky to get out before it all started sliding south. I feel so badly that priorities set by the left-brained linear thinkers who rule the world make these programs expendable.

My Favorite Mantra:

Learning the three R's may help us learn HOW to live, but the ARTS are the reason WHY we live.