Who IS the Teacher?

van Rysselberghe--Le canal en flandre par temps triste

Theo van Rysselberghe, Canal in Flanders (Gloomy Weather), 1894. Oil on canvas, 23 3/4 x 31 1/2 in. Private collection

This year the Art Links: Museum-in-Residence program at The Phillips Collection has expanded by cultivating in-depth collaborations with each of the preschool through sixth grade classes at the Inspired Teaching Public Charter School in Washington, D.C.

I have been lucky enough to work closely with the students and teachers of 1st and 2nd grades. The classroom teachers are indeed inspired and the brilliant students benefit from their teachers’steady conviction, kind hearts, and totally cool ideas.

I collaborated with four teachers to develop lesson plans for my visits to their classrooms. We also collaborated on the tour outlines for each class’s visit to the Phillips.

Harnessing five of the six Prism.K12 strategies, our objectives were that by the end of the lessons, students would be able to:

Identify a setting for a home

Connect the setting to homes for other beings (humans, insects, animals, etc.)

Empathize, Synthesize and Express through discussion. For example: if this is a setting for home, who or what lives there, what do they see, think, smell, hear, taste? What do they feel? What would you feel in this setting? Express thoughts in writing.

We used Prism.K12 strategies along with the school-wide theme of “Home”(motivated by the Inspired Teaching School’s move this year to their permanent “home”at the former Shaed Elementary School) to make connections between the class curriculum and the artwork currently on view at the museum.

The classroom lesson focused on Canal in Flanders by Theo van Rysselberghe, on loan from a private collection for the Neo-Impressionism and the Dream of Realities exhibition. I brought large-scale, color reproductions to school. The students and I sat on the floor and discussed what we saw. We looked closely at the details and tried to imagine that there was a home at the end of the canal, in the far left of the painting. What would that home look like? Who might live there? Who or what might live elsewhere in the scene? People?  Fish? Monsters? Worms?

Then we worked together to create a class poem using the flexibility of Post-It notes. We divided into three groups, with two classroom teachers each leading one group and with me in charge of the third group.

 This photo of the poem created by Athena Kopsidis’s first grade class. Photo: Carla White Freyvogel.


This photo of the poem created by Athena Kopsidis’s first grade class. Photo: Carla White Freyvogel.

One group was to imagine who would make a home in the scene of Canal in Flanders. The second group was to identify what you might see, hear, or smell if you made your home in the painting. My group’s assignment was to discuss how living in the painting would make us feel. Our responses were to be written on the Post-it notes and then integrated into a larger class poem.

I was thrilled about my group’s assignment. I knew how the painting made me feel…like wearing a cotton sweater, dropping a blanket on the bank of the canal, pulling out a cheese sandwich, a bottle of beer, and a good book.

But, I am not 6 years old. Anticipating what they would feel, I thought about flying kites, skipping stones, digging for worms, playing tag…

We sat around a small (very small) table and the students shared ideas.

“How does this painting make you feel?”

“Like I want to go swimming”

“Like I am on vacation”

“Like going camping”

I nod. I write their ideas on individual Post-Its.

“Like I want to play Minecraft” a little boy says.

I had not heard this term before but I had my suspicions. I looked at him inquisitively. “What is Minecraft?” I asked.

The kids were dumbfounded that I did not know what this was. They told me it is a computer game. A computer game! A lovely, serene painting of the countryside in Flanders conjured up a computer game? Computer games make me think of drawn blinds, empty bags of Cheetos, a repeated blipping sound as some electronic thingy tags another electronic thingy, and other images that seem at odds with the pastoral scene in front of us.

As museum educators, we know it is most important for our students to make personal connections with the artwork. These connections enhance learning, inspire appreciation of the artwork and the lesson, and ensure memories. But a connection to…a computer game?!

I gently nudged the student to think of something else. I thought he was being silly; just throwing out Minecraft to derail the conversation. I thought that it was most likely that everything made him feel like playing Minecraft.

He was emphatic. “Minecraft. This painting makes me feel like playing Minecraft.”

OK. I told him I would write it on the Post-it note but only if he could tell me why this painting made him want to play Minecraft. I expected this to stump him and we could get down to the business of articulating senses.

He answered right away. He told me that the little dots that van Rysselberghe used in the painting reminded him of the little block-like squares that he uses in Minecraft to create his scenes. The other students whole-heartedly agreed. For them, this added to the feelings that they articulated. They passed no judgement on it being a computer game reference.

I wrote “Like I want to play Mindcraft because the painting is made up of little squares” on a Post-It (yes, I even misspelled Minecraft). And the Post-It took its place among the others in the class poem.

The exercise was a success. The students were thrilled with their poem. They were even more excited when, two days later, they were at the Phillips, seated in front of the original painting. We had a good conversation about their expectations and compared it to the reproduction seen in the classroom. I read the poem they created and they beamed with pride.

Several days later, I walked into a Microsoft Windows store and found myself surrounded by computer screens. Many were illuminated with Minecraft images, appealing to parents shopping for holiday gifts. I had to admit, the student was right! There was a similarity in the vibrant building blocks of the Minecraft scenes and the many Neo-Impressionist dots.

Back at the Phillips, re-visiting the exhibition, I saw the similarity again.

So, I had to ask myself:  Who is the teacher?

I really have to admit that the young boy—with his Minecraft comparison—was the teacher in this case. He made an insightful comparison and reminded me to be more open-minded and current as a museum educator.

If he was the teacher, I was the slacker student, sitting in the back row, having not done my homework!

Carla White Freyvogel, School Programs Educator

Serenity Now!: Top 5 Quiet Moments in Neo-Impressionism and the Dream of Realities

As the hectic holiday season approaches, our minds are struggling to determine how it could be November already, our bodies are caffeinated by pumpkin spice lattes or peppermint mochas, our arms ache thinking of the impending burden of shopping bags, and our stomachs are soon-to-be overstuffed with turkey and the subsequent leftovers (mashed potatoes for days). Need a break from reality? Our Neo-Impressionism and the Dream of Realities: Painting, Poetry, Music exhibition offers an excellent opportunity for visitors to slow down and embrace stillness, if only for an hour. Behold, the top five quiet moments from the show:

5. Theo van Rysselberghe’s The Scheldt Upstream from Antwerp, Evening

Theo van Rysselberghe, The Scheldt Upstream from Antwerp, Evening, 1892. Oil on canvas, 26 3/4 x 35 1/2 in. Collection of Bruce and Robbi Toll

Theo van Rysselberghe, The Scheldt Upstream from Antwerp, Evening, 1892. Oil on canvas, 26 3/4 x 35 1/2 in. Private collection

The intense, complementary hues of yellow and purple create a magical atmosphere in this painting by van Rysselberghe. The mood is quiet, yet joyful, as we see the sun setting on a picturesque view of the Scheldt while a boat quietly sails past. The anchor poles and their relflection in the water provide a gentle rhythm to the composition, urging us to reflect on the day’s end and welcome nightfall.

 

4. Albert Dubois-Pillet’s The Seine at Paris

The Seine at Paris, 1888. Oil on canvas, 31 1/2 x 39 1/8 in. (79.9 x 99.5 cm). Private collection

Albert Dubois-Pillet, The Seine at Paris, 1888. Oil on canvas, 31 1/2 x 39 1/8 in. (79.9 x 99.5 cm). Private collection

Dubois-Pillet’s The Seine at Paris depicts that intangible, quiet moment amidst city chaos anyone who’s ever lived in an urban metropolis has sought at one point or another. Here, he paints Paris on the verge of another day, before the hustle and bustle begin. The sunlight is peeking over the buildings as the boats on the Seine await their captains, their engines slowing coming to life emitting puffs of steam in the chilly morning air. It allows a moment of contemplative meditation as the dreams of night fade and the reality of day emerges.

 

3. Georges Seurat’s The Channel of Gravelines, Grand-Fort Philippe

Georges Seurat, The Channel of Gravelines, Grand-Fort Philippe, 1890. Oil on canvas, 25 1/2 x 31 7/8 in. (65 x 81 cm). National Gallery, London, Bought with the aid of a  grant from the Heritage Lottery Fund, 1995

Georges Seurat, The Channel of Gravelines, Grand-Fort Philippe, 1890. Oil on canvas, 25 1/2 x 31 7/8 in. (65 x 81 cm). National Gallery, London, Bought with the aid of a grant from the Heritage Lottery Fund, 1995

Seurat’s Channel of Gravelines, Grand-Fort Philippe proves that you don’t have to depict the morning, evening, or night to create a work that encourages the viewer to take a moment and let time stand still. In this painting, Seurat depicts accurately the landscape of Gravelines on the Normandy coast but removes all traces of human life in favor of a powerfully silent composition that is both peaceful and unsettling. The painting’s long vista and high horizon line encourage a meandering glance across the surface while the muted blues and yellows and Seurat’s pointillist technique softens and obscures any semblance of reality.

 

2. Charles Angrand’s The Good Samaritan

The Good Samaritan, 1895. Conté crayon. 33 x 24 in. (84 x 61 cm). Private collection

Charles Angrand, The Good Samaritan, 1895. Conté crayon, 33 x 24 in. (84 x 61 cm). Private collection

It took Angrand about three years to complete this drawing. THREE. YEARS. And it’s perfect. The figures of the samaritan, the man he’s hoisting onto the horse, and the horse seem to materialize from out of the darkness. The more you look and meditate on the picture, the more intricate and beautiful the details emerge. Angrand began as a painter but found his greatest artistic expression in Conté crayon and soon quit painting altogether to create masterworks such as this one.

 

1. Maximilien Luce’s Camaret, Moonlight and Fishing Boats

Camaret, Moonlight, and Fishing Boats, 1894. Oil on canvas. 28 1/2 x 36 1/4 in. (72.4 x 92.1 cm). Saint Louis Art Museum, Museum Purchase,  Museum Shop Fund, and funds given by Gary Wolff,  the Stephen F. Brauer and Camilla T. Brauer Charitable Trust,  the Pershing Charitable Trust, the Kate Stamper Wilhite  Charitable Foundation, the William Schmidt Charitable  Foundation, the John R. Goodall Charitable Trust,  Nooter Corporation, Eleanor C. Johnson, Mrs. Winifred Garber,  Hunter Engineering, the Joseph H. & Elizabeth E. Bascom  Charitable Foundation, the Stephen M. Boyd Fund, Robert  Brookings Smith, Irma Haeseler Bequest, BSI Constructors  Inc., Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Latzer, Samuel C. Davis Jr., Dr.  and Mrs. William H. Danforth, Mr. and Mrs. George Conant,  Mr. and Mrs. Michael Cramer, Dr. and Mrs. David M. Kipnis,  Mr. and Mrs. John O’Connell, Edith B. Schiele, and donors  to the Art Enrichment Fund, 29:1998

Maximilien Luce, Camaret, Moonlight and Fishing Boats, 1894. Oil on canvas, 28 1/2 x 36 1/4 in. (72.4 x 92.1 cm). Saint Louis Art Museum, Museum Purchase, Museum Shop Fund, and funds given by Gary Wolff, the Stephen F. Brauer and Camilla T. Brauer Charitable Trust, the Pershing Charitable Trust, the Kate Stamper Wilhite Charitable Foundation, the William Schmidt Charitable Foundation, the John R. Goodall Charitable Trust, Nooter Corporation, Eleanor C. Johnson, Mrs. Winifred Garber, Hunter Engineering, the Joseph H. & Elizabeth E. Bascom Charitable Foundation, the Stephen M. Boyd Fund, Robert Brookings Smith, Irma Haeseler Bequest, BSI Constructors Inc., Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Latzer, Samuel C. Davis Jr., Dr. and Mrs. William H. Danforth, Mr. and Mrs. George Conant, Mr. and Mrs. Michael Cramer, Dr. and Mrs. David M. Kipnis, Mr. and Mrs. John O’Connell, Edith B. Schiele, and donors to the Art Enrichment Fund, 29:1998

Is there anything more peaceful than observing a moonlit seashore in Normandy as boats bob gently up and down in the harbor while the world around you sleeps? I don’t think so. Luce was brilliant at utilizing deep blues and purples to evoke a quiet dreaminess in this and other works on view in the exhibition. Critic Gustave Geffroy praised this painting when it was exhibited in 1894 in Paris, writing “It is Camaret at night, the boats sleeping in the atmosphere of purple velvet, on the mysterious, phosphorescent sea…” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Neo-Impressionism and the Dream of Realities: Painting, Poetry, Music is on view through January 11, 2015.