The muted, burnished colors reflected in the mountain pools were so incredibly soothing. They blended together in wavy lines. The trees, the leaves, the water became one, and I wanted to plunge in and cover myself in autumnal splendor. It is in these moments that the real and the imagined join forces and cast a magical energy.
Category: History
Portrait of the Artist as an Old Woman
Recently, a good friend told me about Nell Painter’s book, Old in Art School. I knew immediately that I had to push it up to first on my summer reading list. I am indulging in Nell’s journey from Princeton history academic to an BFA at Rutgers’ Mason Gross School of Visual Arts to an MFA from the prestigious Rhode Island School of design. Much of Nell’s book is familiar because she is a Jersey girl and I also attended Rutgers as both an undergraduate and graduate. The essential questions of what is art and who is an artist repeat as a refrain in this memoir. I took a long slow read, trying my best to experience what Nell had lived.
A Jury of Our Peers: Part 2
Exercising my civic duty is not as exciting as I thought it would be. Mostly, it is waiting and trying to keep myself entertained. I purposefully did not bring my laptop, and I’m trying not to engage my phone. I want this day to be more reflective and in the moment. I spend too many days rushing around from one task to the next. Today, I have an opportunity to stop and reflect.
Exercising my civic duty is not as exciting as I thought it would be. Mostly, it is waiting and trying to keep myself entertained. I purposefully did not bring my laptop, and I’m trying not to engage my phone. I want this day to be more reflective and in the moment.
A Jury of Our Peers: Exercising Civic Duty
I’m being called to potentially sit on a jury. I’m not quite sure what it all will entail or how many days I will be out of work, sitting as a juror. I hope to learn about the court system, which I will take back to my students.
The Poetry of Politics: Writing About Presidential Elections
To gain a better perspective of political history, I thought I’d write a poem about the election of 1922, the year my dear mother was born. I did some research on President Harding and his administration. It was quite an interesting time, having some parallels to our present situation.