Art Therapy! Friday, P2 [Week 5]

[flashesforinfo.livejournal.com]

All the desks had been pushed aside today to make room on the floor for the largest piece of paper that Angela had been able to find. Dotted around the edge were a large number of tubs of different colors of poster paint and everything else had as much plastic sheeting as would cover things that should probably not end up covered in paint by the end of this exercise. Like, you know, the desks and the walls and the floor.

“Today you’re contributing to a group project,” Angela announced, and motioned downwards with one finger.

Students might notice that there were no paintbrushes today. Lots of paint, but no brushes. Which would be why when Angela crouched down, she rolled up her sleeve and dipped her entire hand into the pot, and slapped the handful down onto the paper.

"If you haven’t heard of Rorschach tests, they’re those inkblot pictures you always see psychologists using on TV?" Angela was full of technical knowledge, clearly. "It’s used as a way to analyse someone’s personality characteristics. Today we’re going to create our own." Or something. Just go with it. "You can use any colour, use your hands, feet, arms, drop it from a height or smear it around. Try not to specifically make it into a likeness of anything.”

“Point of this is, everyone interprets the shapes differently, depending on personality traits, experiences, age, gender, what you ate for breakfast..." Possibly she made up that last one. "When we’re all done, I want to know what sort of things you all can see in whatever art we make."

"Oh, and it all washes off, you will not end up like that guy who painted himself superhero green, okay?” Honest. “Have fun.”

Practical Philosophy, Friday

[endsthegame]

The downside of a quiet week, Ender found, was that there was little in the shape of current issues to discuss. And while he held a great deal of questions close to his heart, they weren't ones he was willing to share. The thought of seeing them debated at all seemed, at best, an annoyance, at worst a painful affair.

None the less, he was still sitting down outside that morning in the sun, his trusty bag of sandwiches at his side.

"It's been quiet this week, at least for me," he said. "Maybe one of you has done something worth talking about - and if so, I'd encourage you to step forward and do so." He stretched his legs out.

"Still, it gets me thinking about peace, and the way this island deals it to us," he said. "From a certain point of view, it's always the peace before the storm: something else stupendously awful or stupid could happen to us next week, or even this weekend. The days leading up to each weekend are times to prepare ourselves. The weeks when nothing happens are times to train, to read, to make sure we're at the pinnacle of our abilities in case something breaks in and tries to kill us, or we're psychologically prepared for having the rug yanked out from below us."

He looked from one member of the class to another. "Of course, that's a restless way to live," he said. "You can't really escape it entirely on this island. But for most of us, we try not to. We go about our lives and talk about 'the weekends' and try to impart on our newest a sense of preparation for what's to come, but mostly, we just go about our business. Maybe it's a human thing, to pretend the inevitable isn't coming so we can go on with our lives. Most of us postpone thoughts of our death for when we're old or particularly despondent. Because how can you live with a shadow like that over your head? Denial, that ever-old first jewel of a stage on that list of coping mechanisms psychologists and therapists love so much."

"Of course, some of us embrace the inevitable," he said. "We see it as a motivator to make the best of ourselves until our reality ceases to be what it is, whether that be temporary or permanently. Seize the day. It's a different way of preparing, a way of saying, 'even if this happens, even if I don't make it, at least I'll have no regrets'."

He shrugged gently. "But for a lot of you, thoughts like this aren't anything new," he said. "We all figure out our ways to cope - it's human nature. I could ask you questions - about your thoughts on life after death, about the ethics of living life to its fullest, about whether or not during some of these weekend events we are even ourselves, and if that doesn't constitute death, of a sort. But I think I'll just ask this: are you looking forward to the weekend?"