fandomhigh | Creative Arts, Monday, Period 2

Steve was standing at the front of the classroom today as the students arrived. He was dressed somewhat more casually than he usually was for teaching, in a blue t-shirt that already had paint smudged on it and an old pair of equally paint-smudged jeans. "Good morning, everyone," Steve said as soon as the clock ticked over to ten o'clock. If someone was late, that was not his problem. "I'm Steve Rogers, and I'm your teacher for Creative Arts this term. It's pretty straightforward, no hidden motives here, just, art. Making, not talking about. Don't expect a lot of lectures from this class. Do expect a lot of doing things, and more importantly, doing things that can ruin your clothes. We'll be using paint, ink, clay, glue, plaster...and other things. I've provided smocks," at this, he gestured to where they were hung along the wall, "but I strongly encourage you to wear something you don't mind getting messed up. Obviously that will vary from person to person, but just to give you an idea, normally to teach I'd wear a nice pair of slacks and a button-down shirt, but this is what I wear when I'm painting, so it's what I'll be wearing for this class.

"Now, that said," he said, his voice taking on a warning tone as he crossed his arms, "What's not allowed is making a mess on purpose. Later in the semester we might do a few projects where this rule will be suspended, but anyone caught deliberately damaging school property or, say, slinging paint or other art supplies at a fellow student will have to stay after class to clean anything they've messed up by hand whether they have a quicker way or not, and will receive detention. Got it? Good. Everyone should have a basket of supplies at their desk." In each basket were paints, containers to put the paints and some water in, and pads of paper.

"Today," Steve explained, "we're going to finger paint--yes, really, it's actually surprisingly fun--and introduce ourselves. Everyone tell the rest of the class your name, where you're from, what kind of art you like, and another interesting fact about yourself. As I said before, my name is Steve Rogers--that's Mr. Rogers to you all--and I'm from New York City. I like illustrations, and I once punched Hitler. Now it's someone else's turn." After a momentary pause, he added, "Oh, and Mr. Stark, please see me after class."

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George's drawings were mostly of flowers that had been set on fire. Some of them had happy flower faces that were now screaming and running for cover.

"My name is George Lass, I'm from Seattle, and I really like that one painting that ... I don't know the name of it. It's a bunch of people in a diner and they're all just kind of sitting there, quietly, and there's something kind of muted about it, like they all have something in common but they don't know it. They think they're all alone and it's kind of hollow, somehow."

Okay, apparently art made her more expressive.

"I got hit by debris from the space station Mir."

Well, why the fuck not.

"Nighthawks," Steve said, "by Edward Hopper. Interesting choice." Especially given the language she used to describe it. "And that must have been...an interesting experience." To say the least.

"That's it," she said, perking up. "Rube showed it to me, but I didn't remember the name. I should get, like, a copy of it. For my room."

It felt like Der Waffle Haus, late at night, when Kiffany's feet were tired and none of the reapers could sleep.

"It sucked," she added. "The debris was supposed to fall into the ocean, but."

She shrugged.

"There are probably posters and prints available," Steve said. "You could check online." See? He could so use modern technology.

Creative Arts, Monday, Period 2

Re: Introductions/Fingerpainting

Re: Introductions/Fingerpainting

Re: Introductions/Fingerpainting

Re: Introductions/Fingerpainting