I would like to become a catalyst, a connector for the students, so that they may enter a world of questioning, exploration, discovery and exhilaration. The astonishing thing about an art room is that the door is open wide in many different ways. Anyone can enter into the room: the scientist, the athlete, the dancer, the geek, the princess, the brain, even (especially) the delinquent. Every one of them can find that they are home. There is a place for them. Within the school limits, the art room has no boundaries. Typically a regular room in a regular school building, the art room is a crack in the architecture. It is a Gordon Matta-Clark “building cut,” where the teacher and students stand on the edge of the floor and look out onto the world from many different angles. Together they discover the different possibilities of how to place themselves in this environment, using color, form, sound, technology, movement – the tools are endless. I enter into the art room with my eyes open and my energy high.

My students will understand that curiosity is king of the art room and if you follow under his rule, you will travel to new and stimulating places. Commitment to artistic discovery breeds heightened self-esteem, higher order thinking, empowerment, and autonomy. With these attributes, the art student can exit the art room doorway and carry away a piece of the magic to any other place. He will question more, explore more and acquire more everywhere and anywhere he goes, be it the cafeteria, hallway, gymnasium, classroom, library or even to his home, park, city, and well into his future wherever that may bring him.

In the course of my educational endeavors, I have had the pleasure of teaching English conversation classes to college level students in France (Université Stendhal, Grenoble, France), after school art classes to French children ages 6, 7, 8 (MJC Chateauvert, Valence, France), art classes to children on the east side of Buffalo (Art Attack! Albright Knox), as well as art classes to children at the Albright Knox with the gallery and actual works at our disposal (Albright Knox, Art with Artists).

Each of these experiences allowed me to face an array of challenges, since the types of people were very different. Not only did their ages range from 6-21, there were extreme cultural differences along with socio-economical differences.

The French students taught me many things, but there is one in particular which stands out most in my memory. Luckily I was warned before leaving the homeland, “French students don’t talk.” I was leaving to give talking (conversation) lessons. I prepared. With lesson plan ideas that forced speaking, (roll playing, presentations, singling out students with loads of questions), I was ready. But once there I found that the more “on their level” I was, the more I was funny, the more I presented subjects about things happening of that time (Americans and fast food, Disney and the dream, stereotypes, music, etc), the more I was upbeat, the more they responded. The key was relating to them. They felt comfortable and had fun. They spoke!

When I worked on the east side of Buffalo I fell in love with teaching children art. I was a little apprehensive since I knew I was going to places where children came from homes where things were rough. But I plowed in with my knowledge and energy and quite frankly, these children have to this day been my favorites. What freedom! What spice! I would give them shoes and tell them we were going to transform them into a new object. “What? Write on a shoe? You mean we’re allowed to?” They were thrilled and made some of the best work I could only wish to have thought up. One setback was the need for extra discipline. Sometimes the children were overly energetic and I wasn’t prepared for that. Luckily, I had helpers, but I must rethink some of those crazy moments when I didn’t have control. One student ended up with blue hair once. He looked like a blueberry.

Art with Artists was a little more challenging for a reason I did not expect. For the most part, the students were receptive, thoughtful and worked wonderfully. But I did have a few students (I can think of one in particular) who already had some experience in the arts and “knew everything already.” They were I’ll say, a little uppity about their knowledge, and wanted to let me know in their own way that they really didn’t need me. They knew all about the Impressionists so there was nothing more to learn. I’d never dealt with this before and so I basically just left them alone more than I would have liked to. After the fact, I discussed my experience with someone who has much more experience than I. I learned that I should have encouraged them to teach me. Letting them show me how much they knew would have been a much better approach in getting them to open up so that further exchange might have been possible. I hope to apply this wisdom in the future.

One may think that my artwork is about food. Of course it is filled with it. Time and distance has given me the perspective to recognize that there is a recurring idea which permeates my body of artwork; the relationship between people and their food. How food plays an integral part in human life even beyond mere nourishment is a constant underlying theme that enters into the pieces which I create. From fighting over bright green salad, to allowing winners to indulge in the last request meals of death row inmates, (food that does not even have time to make it back out of their bodies before the whole package is six feet under), food is an essential medium in the work. But to step back and make a statement about it, I would say that it’s the six feet under part that is the driving force – food is how we preoccupy ourselves on the journey. And it’s not a simple, “what’s for dinner tonight?” question.

So for fear of being too macabre, I would state that my work is about time, and how it is occupied, controlled by oneself or by others, wasted, enjoyed, used wisely, is lacking, and/or overwhelming. Food, – oh good friend and repulsive rival, is a perfect tool for my exploration.

In a world full of challenges, be them everyday, large scale, attainable or not, our relations with food help or hinder our coping mechanism. Often we abuse food (overeat, or not eat what is “right”), in order to find comfort, forget, celebrate, fill a hole, etc. In a sense, this moment of pleasure provides solace when trying to cope with “time.”

On the other hand, there are those that “watch” what they eat. They eat “right,” avoid dangerous foods, and exercise moderation. Yet isn’t this relationship with food another attempt at avoiding the inevitable?

The dichotomy is there. The oppositions are just traveling down the same road. I am proposing that both attempts at comfort or reassurance are attempts at stalling time. Our innate “death instinct” thrives on pleasure, – whatever form this takes. We are small in this life, in order to become “bigger,” we attempt to control our destiny (or that of others). This could be understood by offering a last meal, (A Real Texan Meal 2001), providing a sugar coated birthday party (Keep the Children Happy series 2009 - ), a couple fighting over salad (les mariées 1998), or voyeuristically looking inside famous people’s refrigerators, (What’s Inside? 2009 - ) to compare or judge how those larger than life manage. Sometimes, we merely stand back and laugh at our smallness, that wonderfully terrifying moment of seeing things through the philosopher’s eye (Red’s cave 2000).

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Working primarily in video and video installation, in the past I have explored issues such as: a co-mingling struggle between the food we eat on a daily basis and the human will to survive as seen in les mariées (the married couple) in which two women simply eating salad, struggle with not only the need to eat but the co-dependency of their relationship. This co-dependency is illustrated with a simple string tied to the ends of each of their forks. When one woman attempts to eat, the other cannot as the string that ties the two together impedes her ability to put fork to mouth. Thus the struggle ensues and it becomes quite a tense situation. Another piece, servez-vous (help yourself), focuses on the time one takes in the kitchen to prepare food. The spectator watches the “behind the scenes” of the making of a simple cookie. Simplicity in this act erodes away and takes “un temps fou” (translated literally as “a crazy time” or rather a lot of time). Once again, the desire for the food overcomes the person and a simple process spirals out of control. In Red’s cave, a video installation, the viewer is confronted by two bigger than life red mouths spewing out a monstrous whale-like, siren-like song. The shadow of the viewer is reflected in the mouths as if he could be eaten up. My most current piece, an installation, now a video document, A Real Texan Meal ,deals with food, life and death, via a piece in which contestants win the actual last meals of executed death row inmates and eat them in front of an audience.

At this time, I am working on a video piece tentatively called The Food We Breathe. It shows a woman eating and losing weight, eating and gaining weight, inflating, deflating and vice versa. The video will be 5-10 minutes in length so that the process happens right before the viewer’s eyes. I feel strongly about making this video since I myself have struggled with weight gain, weight loss and the unsuccessful search for a magic solution to weight problems. I believe I learned a bit about moderation and good eating when I lived in France for eight years. I’ve been living back in the USA for two years now and I hear so much about the fattening of America and all the crazy diets out there. Food is our ally yet equally our enemy which sustains us yet can kill us if we over abuse it.

I love all kinds of art processes. I guess by reason of making conversation more interesting when people ask, I started to call myself a video artist. My latest works are mostly videos. But honestly, when I have an idea for a piece, I don't initially think in terms of process. I think in terms of concept, and afterwards I say "what do I need to realize this?"

I am lucky to have had experiences with various art media. I drew and painted quite a bit in college (and high school forever ago). In fact, just recently, I've started drawing again. I've done various printmaking techniques: screen printing, typography, engraving, lino prints and woodcuts. I love to sculpt with clay although it's been a while unless i include sculpey and play doh with my kids - great fun! I get very excited about installation art, which could be anything of course. I enjoy assembled structures as well. Photography is probably more of a weak spot. i manage moving images much better that capturing one that is worth interest.

My initial spontaneous response to the question of whether it is important for me to do art is "well yes of course." But I don't think that this question is answered so simply. I wholeheartedly agree that as an art teacher every project must be done beforehand. Does this count as me creating? I've never been a full time art teacher before. Does a full time art teacher find time for personal artwork? I hope so. The thing thatI do know is that my art career ended, I think momentarily, when I became a mom. Not only is it a question of time, or lack there of, it is a question of brain space. I am so concerned with the schedules, meal plans, personal hygiene, and happiness of so many other people (OK, I am exaggerating - two), that thinking about my artistic problems would send me over the edge just because I'm too tired. This said, as kids grow they become more independent and I have somehow found my way into this certification program. So will I eventually have time to pick up my own personal portfolio where I left it? I think so. Do i think it's important? Yes. Keeping one's "hands on" is the best way to keep one's comprehension level held high and this can only benefit the classroom situation. But somehow I think that if a person is in the arts in some way, reading about it, looking at it, just plain passionate about it, that can be OK too with a good excuse.