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Clara Schumann

September 13, 2019


“Nothing surpasses the joy of creation.” - Clara Schumann


Thanks to Alissa Simon, HMU Tutor, for today’s post.

I am indebted to Jade Simmons (pianist and storyteller) for most of this information. Check out her podcast Decomposed for a more detailed history of Clara Schumann.

How is it that Clara Schumann became a famous classical pianist at a time when women were not allowed on the stage? And, why is Robert Schumann arguably more famous than Clara?

Clara Josephine Wieck was born on this day (September 13, 1819) in Liepzig, Germany. Her mother was a famous singer and her father was a famous piano teacher. Clara was her father’s prize student and he pushed her intensely, nearly dominating every aspect of her life. Due to Mr. Wieck’s pressure and intractability, Clara’s mother divorced him when Clara was five. Clara remained with her father who saw a brilliant future at the piano for her. She first toured at age eleven, and was such a success that she continued touring for many years under her father’s guidance. During this time, Clara became a huge celebrity. She was famous throughout Europe as a child prodigy. She also composed a number of her own pieces.

Around the time she turned nine, her father took on another student, Robert Schumann. At age eighteen, nine years older than Clara, Robert came to piano very late in life. While Clara’s father took her on tour, Robert was left as a lodger in the Wieck family home. During her teenage years, Clara and Robert began writing letters to each other and eventually fell madly in love. Though her father forbid the marriage, the couple decided to sue her father for the right to marry. Furthermore, he would not give Clara any of the money that she had earned during ten years of concert tours. The court decided in favor of the young couple. Robert and Clara married immediately, one day short of her twenty-first birthday, on September 12, 1840.

The day after their marriage, Robert gave Clara a journal that was to connect them both. They would each keep the journal for one week, and then give it to the other for a week. Robert writes, “This little book that I am starting today has for us a deep significance: it is to be a diary of all that concerns us in our domestic and married life; to be a record of our wishes and our hopes, and the means whereby we may convey to one another any requests we may have to make, for which words may not suffice; and to be a mediator and reconciler should we chance to misjudge or misunderstand each other. In short it will be a good and faithful friend, to whom we may always come with open hearts...”

It seems odd that Robert chose to give Clara a journal for the two of them to write together particularly because her father had done the same. Clara’s entire life was directed by her father who wrote her every thought for her. He penned many entries in Clara’s journal and then signed Clara’s name as if she had written them. He also dictated what she played and how. This odd, obsessive treatment overshadowed Clara’s ability to develop her own skills, at her own pace. Even as a married woman, free from her father, Clara still had to fight for piano time, which meant, she still wasn’t free to play as she would like.

Life as a wife and mother took precious time away from Clara’s piano career. In fact, she continually notes in her journal that it was hard to find time for herself, or her music. Due to her years as a child prodigy and a tour celebrity, she could earn more money than Robert, but that arrangement was unacceptable in the culture of the day. Rather, she continued with housework and raising children, while trying to sneak time for the piano in stolen moments. Though, she did tour on occasion but she nearly stopped composing, famously saying, “A woman must not desire to compose.”

A rare exception occurred after Clara Schumann suffered a miscarriage when she wrote the Piano Trio in G minor. A year later, Robert wrote a Trio which seemed to overshadow her own piece and in her mind, she started to see herself more as a wife than as a performer and composer. However, at this same time, about 10 years into their marriage, Robert began to display symptoms of a severe illness. Finally, he entered a mental institution, where he died about two years later. His death was devastating to her, but during the illness and after his death, she had to earn as much money as possible, which meant that Clara once again left on tour.

As her life had evolved, Clara’s relationship with music necessarily changed too. She began to see herself as an interpreter of music and very much enjoyed the performance element. She also was one of the first to memorize music for the stage. And though she composed very little anymore, at age sixty-six, in a concert in London, she chose to play one of her own pieces in public, on stage. As Jade Simmons explains, maybe she was beginning to rethink the idea that a woman should not compose.

To put this in perspective, she was born two years after Charlotte Brontë, which means that during her celebrity years, the Brontë sisters attempted their own unheard of feat: to publish a novel. They succeeded only by resorting to pseudonyms. It is curious to think of the legacy of women in unique positions such as these. I do not know if Clara Schumann is still considered famous, but I do believe that Robert’s legacy overshadows her own. I also wonder why Jane Eyre (for example) has seen such resurgence, but the same is not (yet) true of Clara Schumann’s works. It brings to mind questions of difference between the arts, such as music and novels. How does society consume, perpetuate, encourage, or desire any of the arts? I do not believe that these situations are entirely analogous, but they are not totally divergent either. In my mind, Clara Schumann has much to teach us, if we would listen.

Analysis of Clara’s Trio in G minor; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OmU2F3U3tbY

Clara Schumann’s Trio in G minor: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzTcsluFxU4

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Dazzle Ships

September 6, 2019

Thanks to Alissa Simon, HMU Tutor, for today’s post.

I get very excited when the world combines disciplines in an unexpected way. Recently, I came across a children’s book entitled, Dazzle Ships: World War I and the Art of Confusion by Chris Barton and illustrated by Victo Ngai. Not only is this book elegant, descriptive, and interesting, it talks about the combination of art and war in a way that I had never seen before. The book interested me mostly because of the art, but also, the perspective and combination of disciplines. The idea of dazzle ships combines lessons of history, gender studies, art, science, warfare and even popular culture.

The idea for dazzle ships arose during World War I when Britain was losing up to eight ships a day to German U-boats. The losses weighed heavily on the British, who were often known for their naval expertise. Initially, U-boats captured or sank unarmed merchant or cargo ships. They held these ships hostage by using a system which involved turrets (a movable enclosure that protected guns) and torpedoes. The torpedoes were only useful, however, from a distance and a fixed location. They had to be fired using data points such as the opposing ship’s speed, location, and direction. While torpedoes function based entirely on informed guesses at a distance, the guns, on the other hand, were only useful at close range which made the torpedoes useless. So, when the British began arming merchant ships, the Germans resorted to using torpedoes alone to sink ships.

Roy R. Behrens, an expert on camouflage, explains that many people in various countries arrived at the idea of distortion, dazzle, and camouflage, around the same time. He notes: “As early as 1915 (before the US joined the war), an American muralist named William Andrew Mackay collaborated with US Navy commander Joseph O. Fisher at the Brooklyn Navy Yard in designing disruptive (not low-visibility blending) schemes for American submarines. It is not clear if the two were acquainted with Kerr’s experiments, but we do know (according to Mackay, and from photographs) that their camouflage made use of ‘stripes and bars, and there evolved the first principles on which modern camouflage is based’” (6) .

It was also about this time of desperation that British lieutenant-commander Norman Wilkinson (also an artist) proposed painting British ships in dazzling colors and patterns. The idea was not exactly to camouflage the ships, but to disorient the viewer. Camouflage is better used for stationary objects, but distortion works on bodies in motion. “Whereas concealment has to do mainly with motionless objects, distortion is concerned for the most part with objects in motion. The moving object cannot, as a rule, be hidden, but it can be made less definite, more puzzling, a more ‘tricky’ and difficult target, by certain arrangements of color and pattern” (quoted from Gerald H. Thayer “Camouflage in Nature and War” in Brooklyn Museum Quarterly. Vol 10, 1923, p. 161.) In other words, dazzle works because of the way that the human eye is able to organize information.

Whoever arrived at the idea first, both the British and U.S. Navies began developing dazzle ships. They experimented on small wooden replicas painted with bright colors and designs. For this task, the United States Navy sought women with experience in landscape painting who were then employed to dazzle a variety of ships. (It is interesting to note that: Camouflage artists are known as camoufleurs or camofleuses (which also recalls the idea of the previous -ess suffix discussion!). Experts in periscope viewing tested the small models and those which successfully disoriented the viewers were then transferred to large battleships. The idea was that the dazzle would confuse the U-boats, making it impossible to correctly gauge direction or speed. The sea’s constant motion and humidity are inherently disorienting. Also, ships emit noxious oils and smoke. Therefore, the painted designs intended to capitalize on movement and disorder.

These dazzle ships took advantage of the way that the human eye works. It navigates by focusing on definable shapes. So, dazzle ships worked more like an optical illusion, which made the human eye inefficient, and the periscope viewer could hardly render a knowledgeable guess about size, shape, distance and direction. This Smithsonian article claims that “By June 1918, less than a year after the division was created, some 2,300 British ships were dazzled, a number that would swell to more than 4,000 by the end of the war.”

Of course, the idea of dazzle did not end with the war. Rather, cubist painters and others picked up on these trends and they became so fashionable as to even decorate swimsuits for a time. I was surprised to find Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark (OMD) wrote a song about them as late as 1983! This seemingly simple children’s book astounded me by its combination of art and history, but also by the rich illustration and depth of knowledge. My gratitude to Chris Barton and Victo Ngai for introducing me to these marvelous ships and their complicated history.

You can find more information at the following links:
HENI Talks 10 min video: https://henitalks.com/talks/dazzle-how-a-british-artist-transformed-the-seas/

Behrens essay about camouflage and its misconceptions:
http://www.bobolinkbooks.com/Camoupedia/DazzleCamouflage/dazzle.html

Public Domain Review with a number of images:
https://publicdomainreview.org/collections/dazzle-ships/

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The Creative Process in the Arts and Beyond

August 30, 2019

Thanks to Jennifer Taylor, a 2019 Harrison Middleton University Fellow in Ideas recipient, for today's post.

It feels like August has only just begun, but somehow it is drawing to a close suspiciously quickly. As a new teacher, this inevitably results in mixed emotions. I - and I believe I can safely say most teachers - spend a good chunk of the summer thinking about and working on my job. I take an online course, review and improve the resources and materials I used for my classes last year, and generally feel very calm, organized, and prepared. As the last weeks of August slip away, though, that calm feeling disintegrates into anxiety. What courses will I actually end up teaching? If it’s a course I haven’t taught before, how will I prepare myself? What will my classes be like? And how in the world am I going to fit all of the curriculum requirements into just a few short months?

Obviously, I haven’t perfected the art of teaching. The thing about mastering anything is that you must do it over, and over, and over again, but as a young teacher I don’t always have the luxury of teaching the same class - or even at the same school - more than once. A challenge, certainly, but it also gives me the opportunity to look at teaching from different perspectives and try out different educational theories. Sometimes, I am a languages teacher, teaching French as a Second Language with a focus on authentic dialogue and action-based language learning. Sometimes I am an art teacher, teaching Visual Art and emphasizing the Growth Mindset while remaining cognizant of the multiple intelligences my students possess. Last year, I taught both at once - French Immersion Visual Art, an art course conducted entirely in French.

During that semester, as well as integrating the previously-mentioned pedagogical theories, I found that the Creative Process was invaluable in helping me structure the course. Though I have only seen it used in this iteration in the context of secondary Visual Arts, it fit in beautifully with the development of language skills, and I think could be used as a framework in other subjects as well. The individual steps will be very familiar, and can be spread out and used over an entire unit of study (as I do in my Art program) or scaled down to fit within a single period. I will give an example of the application of this process - specifically, how I used it to work through a clay relief sculpture unit with my students last year.

Challenging and Inspiring
When introducing a new topic, concept, or project, I try to start here, by inviting my students to be inspired by the potential that exists in our new topic of study. Often, this is dictated by the curriculum; in my case, the curriculum specifies that 9th grade French Immersion Visual Arts students be introduced to the art of ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. We therefore examined ancient relief sculptures in caves, temples, on columns, and in burial chambers, focusing on a few key aspects: the level of relief, the textures used, and most importantly what stories are being told, and how they can be interpreted based on the sculptor’s choices.

When it comes to challenging students, the focus is on developing skills based on the topic of inspiration, rather than replicating stylistic elements or subjects. The artistic challenge posed to my students, therefore: how can depth and texture be used effectively in a clay slab to help communicate a story about you?

Imagining and Generating
Before they can really begin to consider how they will carry out the challenge, they must be able to see the possibilities and constraints that exist within it. Only after gaining an awareness of proper processes and techniques will students be able to imagine themselves carrying out the same actions. With clay, there are many physical rules and variables; with an adequate moisture content, it is malleable, but as it dries it becomes fragile and unworkable; if any air bubbles are created as it is being sculpted, it will explode when it is fired in the kiln; if pieces are not attached together using the proper technique, they will break apart during firing. Watching videos, participating in demonstrations, and looking at examples in various stages of completion allow students to imagine how they will manipulate the techniques themselves, and begin to generate their own ideas and do research on how to realize them.

An exemplar I showed my students to demonstrate what the planning and preliminary sculpting stages could look like for the project. Photo credit: Jennifer Taylor.

An exemplar I showed my students to demonstrate what the planning and preliminary sculpting stages could look like for the project. Photo credit: Jennifer Taylor.


Planning and Focusing
This is one of the stages that many students resist. Once they have their heart set on an idea, many prefer to jump straight into the final product, without passing “GO” or collecting their $200. It takes some time to convince students that a person’s first idea is not always their best - that sometimes, doing a little bit of planning work and trying variations on their original idea can pay off in a big way. At first, I give students a number of sketches they must complete before choosing one to pursue; but it doesn’t take them long to realize that their first composition is rarely the most successful. By the end of the year, their planning work is much more self-directed and gives them confidence in their ability to carry out their plan in the next stages.

In the planning stages of the clay relief sculpture, students sketched several potential compositions, then chose their favourite (with feedback from their peers and teacher) and added important technical details to indicate areas that would be additive (clay added onto the flat slab) or reductive (clay carved away from the surface) and what textures would be used. This helped them to visualize how they would achieve three dimensions when planning was done on a two-dimensional surface.

Exploring and Experimenting
This step will look very different depending on the skills being developed in any task or project. The intention is to ensure that every student is able to experiment with the materials and skills they will be using before having to touch their final work. Ideally, this stage should be low-risk in terms of evaluation so students can take huge risks in their experimentations. In my clay example, students created a miniature flat slab of clay and were invited to experiment with textures and techniques they wanted to use in their project. If they planned to sculpt a bird, their experimentation could tackle the challenge of how to create the texture of a feather in clay, how to sculpt and attach a delicate foot, or how to create the illusion of depth in the background.

Producing Preliminary Work
Finally, the “good copy”! If all other steps have been carried out with dedication and effort, this stage becomes easy; following a detailed plan that has been generated based on an artistic challenge and explored with proper techniques is simple - in a perfect world. In our world, additional challenges will still arise, disasters will strike, and all hope will occasionally be lost. Luckily, the creative process has not abandoned us - there are still more stages to come.

Revising and Refining
Whether or not all previous steps went according to plan, there are always improvements that can be made. When a student throws their hands up and says “I’m done!” I always ask a follow-up question. How do you know you are done? Is there any part of it you are not yet happy with? If your work belonged to one of your classmates, what suggestions would you give them for improvement? Whether your evaluation tool of choice is a checklist, rubric, success criteria, or something else, students can always go back to it and refine their product.

This is also one of the stages where feedback from peers is most important; if the creator runs out of inspiration for revisions, fresh eyes and a new point of view can be the most effective tools for revising one’s work. As well as improvised revisions with individual students, this is a stage where I also take the time for explicit peer evaluation with specific instructions. In our sculpture unit, I periodically had them stop working for a period of about ten minutes and discuss their progress with a partner, and ask that partner for suggestions. It is important that feedback is helpful without being harsh. A critical statement such as, The nose on your sculpture is too flat, can be discouraging. Advice, with phrasing like, The nose would look more realistic if you added more clay to the tip so it projects more, provides a path forward for revisions.

The final sculpture, ready to be shared with the artist’s group for feedback after it has been fired. Photo credit: Jennifer Taylor.

The final sculpture, ready to be shared with the artist’s group for feedback after it has been fired. Photo credit: Jennifer Taylor.


Presenting and Sharing/Reflecting and Evaluating
Presenting their work is another step that my students were reluctant to undertake, so sometimes I blended the last two steps of the process together. In older grades, students might participate in a formal, unscripted full-class critique of each other’s work. In younger grades, I found that preparing a self-reflection and then sharing their work in small groups or partners was more successful. A written reflection on their work not only forced students to examine their own learning - it also made it obvious to me when they did not really understand the criteria. When a student gave themselves 10/10 for something they failed to include in their work (which did happen), it allowed me to determine the extent of their understanding, and also to reflect on how I could improve my teaching of the concept.

With their written reflection as a guide, I ask students to share the reasons behind their chosen composition, where they found success, and where they could have improved. Classmates can then weigh in with comments on what they enjoyed, suggestions for next time, or questions. The important thing about this stage is that it takes place immediately after they complete the project, so students can more effectively internalize the suggestions they receive and immediately apply them to the next project. Often, the creator themselves or a classmate will address the very same aspects that I would give in my evaluation of the work - but the student does not have to wait a week or two to receive the feedback in writing, by which time they have already mentally moved on.

The artist’s reflection on their own work. In this case, they were happy that the levels of depth and the textures looked realistic. If they could do it again, however, they would alter the composition so there was not so much empty space at the bottom. Photo credit: Jennifer Taylor.

The artist’s reflection on their own work. In this case, they were happy that the levels of depth and the textures looked realistic. If they could do it again, however, they would alter the composition so there was not so much empty space at the bottom. Photo credit: Jennifer Taylor.


Feedback and Reflection
I have mentioned feedback specifically at a few key stages, but what I appreciate about this version of the creative process is that feedback and reflection take place at every stage of a project. This does not mean that I force students into some form of formal reflection at every stage - rather, I encourage students to be frequently discussing their work with their classmates as they work, so that reflection and feedback take place organically throughout the process. One potential challenge is ensuring that constructive feedback among peers avoids being offensive or dismissive of their work. As previously mentioned, in that interest, students are encouraged to give suggestions for improvement rather than critical comments on unsuccessful aspects. As well as improving artistic skills and techniques, they are also developing their language skills - obviously an advantage in a Second Language course, but no less effective in a wide variety of other fields as well.

The potential of the Creative Process has not yet been fully developed. It has been a great guiding tool in teaching Visual Arts, but I see how it can be useful beyond an art classroom, and I will now be adapting this same process into every course that I teach.

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Designing for (Dis)Ability: Children's Books and Blind Readers

August 23, 2019

Thanks to Laken Brooks, a 2019 Harrison Middleton University Fellow in Ideas recipient, for today's post.

From the Three Blind Mice to Mary Ingalls Wilder, blindness remains a rare -- albeit important topic in children’s literature. In the past, many literary representations presented blindness (and disability overall) as a tragedy or even as a public burden. Fortunately, readers can recognize some progress. According to scholar Donna Sayers Adomat, “In the past ten years, literature for children and youth depicts increasingly positive attitudes towards people with disabilities.” Fortunately, in many newer titles, authors feature blind children in school, with friends, and living fulfilled lives. However, most of these children’s books about blind characters are not designed for a blind reader.

I do not write about disability and the publishing industry without precedent. In Dust, Carolyn Steedman describes how bookbinders and papermakers experienced respiratory illnesses in the early ages of the European printing press. The dust from the paper manufacturing process clogged their lungs, a tangible example of how literacy and disability have been materially connected for generations. With children’s books, the bright colors and flat pages are not, in and of themselves, ableist. After all, many children learn best with visual stimulation. According to Maria Popova, “bright, primary colors are most effective for the very young” because young children “tend not to have the language skills to express in words what they are receiving from an image.” Nonetheless, this visual communication evokes harm when children’s books use traditional illustrations to portray blind characters. In producing blind characters for abled readers, authors ostracize blind children who might otherwise find a valuable sense of community in the book.

Children’s literature relies on sight: bright colors, flat pages, full-page illustrations. Most children’s books featuring blind characters do not articulate self-awareness about their design. One book, Lucy’s Picture by Nicola Moon, positions itself as reflective analysis of blindness and literacy. Lucy tries to decide how she should paint a picture for her grandfather. Lucy isn’t convinced by the red, yellow, and blue paints: “they’re not right.” When Lucy asks if she can “stick things on” the page with glue, her teacher says, “You’ll have to move to a different table. There’s not enough room here.” She moves to an empty table in the corner of the room. Lucy closes her eyes and thrusts elbow-deep into a box of fabric and paper scraps, feeling with her eyes closed. Slowly and thoughtfully, Lucy collages materials into a landscape. Lucy spends her recess collecting sand and twigs for her picture. Finally, Lucy cuts her own hair to replicate the fur of her grandfather’s dog. At the end of the story, the reader finds out that the grandfather is blind and his golden retriever a seeing eye dog. “It’s the best picture I have ever seen,” says her grandfather.

Lucy’s Picture breaks ground by critiquing flat pictures and showing how blind readers can “see” texts in tactile ways. The text demonstrates an awareness of the pitfalls of flat images. This analysis provides a valuable springboard from which we can discuss book production and inclusive literacy. However, Lucy’s Picture centers the abled reader. Lucy’s Picture is produced for the Lucys of the world rather than the grandpas, so to speak. Lucy makes “the most beautiful picture” that her grandfather can “see” through the touch and feel components. Nonetheless, the book itself does not make the same multimodal accommodations that Lucy provides her grandfather. Lucy refuses to use red and blue paint because she understands that her grandfather cannot see these colors; they are “not right.” Ironically (and perhaps hypocritically), a reader’s first impression of this book is the bright color splashed across the cover. The children’s book continues to use these bright colors on every page. Lucy uses multimedia elements so her grandfather can touch and “see” her art, but Lucy’s Picture does not make this same use of media elements.

What does it mean to promote a new model of readership, of accomodation in publishing praxis? First, publishers and abled authors must work alongside disabled people to create multisensory alternatives. Menena Cottin’s The Black Book of Colors serves as an example. The text features Braille translations and full spreads of raised images, tangible pictures of leaves and flowers. Like in a colorful children’s book, these full illustrated pages engage the child and set the pace of reading. However, this book foregoes all color. Flowers and grasshoppers come to life under a reader’s fingertips. Even for seeing readers, these raised images are hard to spot with the naked eye. Seeing readers and blind readers alike find more meaning when their hands study the page. By avoiding bright colors, The Black Book of Colors promotes a similar reading experience among blind and seeing readers; children have a moment of kinship when they share this text. Chamari Edirisinhe, Norhidayati Podari, and Adrian David Cheok created a book prototype similar to The Black Book of Colors. In this multisensory experience, each page has English and Braille translations. Certain black pages are adorned with tactile materials, accompanied by sound, and even highlighted with scent. These sensory cues and reader questions all invite young readers to critically engage in the text. On one spread, a reader will touch a tuft of black fur. The text reads, “Alice’s friend is a playful cat. Did you enjoy it?” A book designed for a blind child may look very different than a mainstream picture book. This book rolls out flat like a scroll, the child moving across the room as they touch and read each page. Such a text demonstrates the ways in which abled bias permeate our reading experience, from character stereotyping, illustrations, audience, and even the codex form. Additionally, we can look at pop-up books, touch-and-feel books, and toy or moveable books to provide inspiration for ways in which we can design entertaining books for blind children.

While the history of disability representation has changed for the positive over time, educators, authors, and publishers alike can adopt a better design model for all young readers. By working alongside disabled creators, we can create new texts specifically for -- not just about -- disabled children.

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