The Next Generation

 


On previous occasions, I've blogged about one of the greater pleasures of working as an artist: that is to engage directly with the public in ways that may not otherwise be possible.  One such example is the day I went to Huron Elementary School in Toronto to speak to grade two students about my role as illustrator of the book "Lady MacBeth Afraid of the Stairs".

Now, I'm not a fellow who's apt to be stuck for words, or incapable of filling an hour of time with the requisite amount of hot air.  But I must confess a degree of trepidation at the thought of having to entertain a restless fifty-member group of seven-year-olds for that duration.  I prepped myself as best I could, with actual paintings used to create the book, reference photos I sourced of Newfoundland dogs, the original preliminary sketches, and of course, the book itself all tucked into my artist portfolio. 









But I also brought along some blank pages and a Sharpie, and that ultimately led to the best part of the whole experience.  


The hour got off to an hilarious and disarming start.  I explained who Thom Barker (the author) was, and how we had been friends for, at that time, 49 years since meeting in grade one at age 6.  The sheer amount of geologic time that represented to these seven-year-olds was a source of immediate fascination.  I was met with a chorus of kids offering up the various ages of their parents, all of whom were younger than the 49 years in question.  Some of them did the math and calculated that I was 55 years old, also a source of astonishment.  For some strange reason, I had thought initially that I would present as a parental figure to these kids.  Wrong generation on my part.  The reality was that I was more of a grandpa to them. 

 

To my great relief, I was able to keep their attention through the reading of the book, and a few subsequent doodles I did on the spot showing how I interpreted the dog.  The hour was quickly moving by.   

There was about 15 minutes to go, and I still had their interest, so I thought the time was right to move the art lesson to beyond mere doodling. 

One of the critical frames in Lady MacBeth is the view from behind her head as she stares down into the abyss of the basement.  


This drawing employs a very basic single-point perspective to make it seems like the staircase descends infinitely into the dark basement.  Single-point perspective is pretty simple conceptually, but is a great tool to convey distance and depth.  I thought that these inquisitive kids were more than up for learning about it.  

So I broke out the Sharpie and started with a simple horizon line and one dot, the vanishing point.  



Then I added some lines radiating out from the VP to the edges of the page.  As of yet, it wasn't clear what I was drawing.



Finally, I started to add some dotted lines, fence posts, and telephone poles.  All of a sudden, the simple lines on paper transformed into a view straight down a road stretching into the distance.  I could hear audible astonishment from the kids, like some magic light went on when they saw how deceptively easy it was to convey depth.  



I'm a firm believer that kids can 'punch above their weight' in terms of learning new things.  They are literally sponges waiting to absorb whatever you put their way.  And so, when the hour wrapped up, I left hopeful that I had taught them at least a little bit about the artistic process.  

I received some confirmation of that later that night when the teacher forwarded me a message she got from one of the dads:

"Hi Dave, I am writing just to express our appreciation for coming to Huron Junior Public School today and talk with the grade 2 kids. All my son has been talking about since coming back from the school is Lady Macbeth and how amazing an artist you are (which I completely agree with)! Thanks a lot for inspiring him and we wish you all the very best!"

But a few weeks later I got the best treat of all. The teacher had the kids make thank you cards, which she then packaged up and sent to me. Many of the cards featured, naturally enough, their own interpretations of Lady MacBeth.



But then I noticed that some of the cards included their own attempt to master single-point perspective.  It gave me tremendous satisfaction that the ten minute demo I did actually registered with some of them.  


Perhaps because of that visit, a child may be inspired towards a life that follows their artistic star.
If that happens for even one, it was well worth it.  


If you would like your own copy of Lady MacBeth Afraid of the Stairs, the link is here:




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