Dean McCoppin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
drinks_coffeezilla) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomhigh2012-01-20 01:25 am
drinks_coffeezilla) wrote in fandomhigh2012-01-20 01:25 am
Entry tags:
The Art of Scrap, Friday, Period 4
This week, Dean's students had been told to dress for the weather in clothes that they didn't mind getting dirty, because they were doing some hands-on searching for art supplies in Fandom's junkyard. Lined up at the gate were enough wheelbarrows for each student to take one, and each wheelbarrow had a pair of heavy work gloves, a travel mug of hot coffee, and a set of wire-cutters sitting inside.
"Hey, guys. Today is going to more or less be a free-for-all day. I know some of you worked on your armatures for this semester's big sculpture projects last week, and some of you just brainstormed with some sketches. It's fine if you didn't finish either. Sometimes, that's just how art can be, you know? This week, we're going to take a different route, and maybe you'll find some inspiration while you're here."
Here, surrounded by trash. So inspiring, truly.
"You can wander around and grab whatever you want from the scrap heaps," he continued. "Just so long as it isn't something that's going to go to rot and stink up the classroom or attract rats or something. Maybe being around here and getting your hands on the raw materials will give you a few ideas for your projects, too."
He nodded to his left. "Over there is the scrap metal. That's the sort of thing that I work with. If you go that way instead," he gestured in another direction with his coffee mug, "you'll find plastics and heavy-duty rubber, like old tires. Mostly bicycle and rickshaw tires around here, since you don't really see many cars on this island. There's plexiglass and there are window panes around here, too, just be careful not to cut yourself on any of the above. There are work gloves for each of you for a reason, and I expect you all to be wearing them today."
Yes, he had gone exploring around this place already. The backyard of 29 Chimera had a bit of a growing pile of garbage, just waiting to be turned into art.
"If you need any help with bigger pieces of scrap, just let me know. Your wire cutters can only do so much, and I'm not about to haul a car door back to the school or anything, but if it's something within reason, I'll see what I can do to help you break it down into slightly more manageable parts. Keep in mind when you're looking for materials that you guys aren't going to be allowed to do any welding. But, if your projects absolutely require it, let me know what you need stuck where and when the time comes, I'll handle that part for you."
He took another mouthful of coffee, appraising the group before continuing.
"Oh, and I guess some of the residents of the island use this place to park their spacecraft? I'm pretty sure you'll be able to tell the difference between a spaceship and an old manhole cover or something, so I'm putting it out there right now, guys. No touching the ship-things. None."
He then proceeded to wave vaguely at the junkyard.
"Go. Run. Be free."
He was going to wander around, looking things over. Grabbing supplies for his own project. Contemplating the state of affairs of this place. Wondering what it would be like to own his own scrapyard. That sort of thing.
[OCD coming! And up! Have at it, my favourite pack of garbage pickers.]
"Hey, guys. Today is going to more or less be a free-for-all day. I know some of you worked on your armatures for this semester's big sculpture projects last week, and some of you just brainstormed with some sketches. It's fine if you didn't finish either. Sometimes, that's just how art can be, you know? This week, we're going to take a different route, and maybe you'll find some inspiration while you're here."
Here, surrounded by trash. So inspiring, truly.
"You can wander around and grab whatever you want from the scrap heaps," he continued. "Just so long as it isn't something that's going to go to rot and stink up the classroom or attract rats or something. Maybe being around here and getting your hands on the raw materials will give you a few ideas for your projects, too."
He nodded to his left. "Over there is the scrap metal. That's the sort of thing that I work with. If you go that way instead," he gestured in another direction with his coffee mug, "you'll find plastics and heavy-duty rubber, like old tires. Mostly bicycle and rickshaw tires around here, since you don't really see many cars on this island. There's plexiglass and there are window panes around here, too, just be careful not to cut yourself on any of the above. There are work gloves for each of you for a reason, and I expect you all to be wearing them today."
Yes, he had gone exploring around this place already. The backyard of 29 Chimera had a bit of a growing pile of garbage, just waiting to be turned into art.
"If you need any help with bigger pieces of scrap, just let me know. Your wire cutters can only do so much, and I'm not about to haul a car door back to the school or anything, but if it's something within reason, I'll see what I can do to help you break it down into slightly more manageable parts. Keep in mind when you're looking for materials that you guys aren't going to be allowed to do any welding. But, if your projects absolutely require it, let me know what you need stuck where and when the time comes, I'll handle that part for you."
He took another mouthful of coffee, appraising the group before continuing.
"Oh, and I guess some of the residents of the island use this place to park their spacecraft? I'm pretty sure you'll be able to tell the difference between a spaceship and an old manhole cover or something, so I'm putting it out there right now, guys. No touching the ship-things. None."
He then proceeded to wave vaguely at the junkyard.
"Go. Run. Be free."
He was going to wander around, looking things over. Grabbing supplies for his own project. Contemplating the state of affairs of this place. Wondering what it would be like to own his own scrapyard. That sort of thing.
[