fandomhigh | Entries tagged with art

There were brilliant white overalls set out for people to wear today, as well as equally brilliant white drapes set up all over the class room, including over several bucket shaped objects. None of this was at all suspicious.

No doubt it would come completely as a surprise when with a utterly terrifying warcry of "ART ATTACK!" Aphra leapt in a conveniently open window and started throwing waterbombs filled with food dye at random. Isabela made a slightly more dignified entrance (if only because Aphra was drawing everyone's attention) with an actual sneak attack from behind.

Needless to say, those drape covered buckets were also full of dye-filled balloons.

Unlike other dye adjacent activities today, there would be no winner. Or rather, you would all be winners. Colourful, colourful winners.

good_for_six

Various crafting stations wear set up around the classroom today, filled with various kinds of beads, cords, wires, and various other bits and bobs.

"Today we're looking at a kind of art very close to my heart," Isabela said. "Literally. It's jewellery. Which is very important to Rivaini in general and Rivaini pirates in particular. We like to wear our wealth." That Isabela's taste in jewellery happened to draw the eye to her other assets was an extremely welcome side-benefit.

"Of course, our budget doesn't really go towards actual precious metals," Aphra added, mostly because they had spent it on...other things. "But we've got a heap of tutorials and we're sure you'll find something that speaks to you, maybe you'll find you have a gift."

jedigrammarians

The projector was set up at the front of the class again.

Once everyone had settled, Aphra started. "Sometimes the thing about art is that there is no 'why?', just a 'why not?' and that's beautiful."

"If occasionally worrying," Isabela added. "Are the Australians okay?"

good_for_six

There were easels set up around the room, and in the centre of it was a display of fruit. Very suggestive fruit.

"We're going back tot eh basics for this one," Aphra told the class. "Drawing from life."

"We were planning on doing actual life drawing, to give you the experience," Isabela added. "Unfortunately the only person responding to our ad for a model was Tino." And despite what some might think, Isabela did have standards.

"So, fruit."

"Fruit. That was once alive, so technically it counts."

jedigrammarians

"Conceptual art," Aphra announced to the class. Almost randomly. "The most abstract of abstract art."

Not that they'd explained abstract art. Or post-modernism, or even just plain modernism. You know, the kind of things that might give the class some background here.

"At its best, it challenges ideas about culture, politics, the idea of art itself," Aphra continued without care in the world. "At its worst, it's random nonsense. And sometimes the the only difference between the two is your ability to spine a line convincing people your random nonsense has meaning." She did not sound like she thought this was an entirely bad thing.

"And how much you're able to con out of someone with too much money and too little sense of aesthetics," Isabela added. Helpfully.

"So today we'd like you to pick out a random medium, create something, then swap art with a classmate and explain your new artwork's deep and meaningful meaning."

good_for_six

Even more inevitably than death and taxes, Isabela and Aphra had the movie projector set up.

"Now that you've introduced yourselves to us through art, it's time to introduce you to one of many forms of art that some of you may not be familiar with."

Look, sometimes it took more effort than other times to justify why exactly they were playing this.

jedigrammarians

The class had received instructions to meet in the art room, which would indicate that whatever Aphra and Isabela had planned, they were planning on easing the class into it.

In the art room itself, there were all kinds of various arts supplies laid out, mostly the kinds of things you'd use for painting or sketching, but also the odd, more esoteric media as well.

"Art," Aphra declared. "It's great."

"And valuable," Isabela added, then quickly followed up with "For self-expression."

"Which is why, instead of introducing yourselves to us with your words, we want you to do it with your art." Yes, Aphra thought she sounded deep.

"Pick whichever medium speaks to you and create something that tells the class about how you are." In Isabela's not at all humble opinion, they sounded so deep.

Also how else were they supposed to get an idea of what they were working with. They needed to know if any of you had valuable skills.

heroic_jawline

Well, it was Renaissance class time again, and your teachers were surrounded by art.

Well.

"Art."

Ala Walmart. Mona Lisa costumes, posters of statues, "Pull-My-Finger" riffs on the Sistine Chapel art, dress me up David refrigerator magnets...the piles of stuff were overwhelming.

Steve looked a little green around the edges.

"Well."

Apparently what's going on had effected our orders for class " Tony said, tilting his head at what was delivered.

"And it's horrifying," Steve added.

"Let's just... call this a wash," Tony suggested. "Head back to the dorms. Hope that we can get this fixed for next week."

heroic_jawline

"Today's our last class together," Steve said with a smile, "and since the entire purpose of this class was to find joy in creativity, today's a free-for-all."

Which explained why Dum-E was in the corner with a fire extinguisher.

"Personally, I suggest finger painting," Tony said because it had less chance of being foamed by Dum-E over there.

But never zero. "I'm going to sketch," Steve added.

"Hopefully you've all learned something here," Tony added. "Have a great summer."

heroic_jawline

You had two teachers who were teacher-shaped today, so there was that going for you, and they were already snacking on half-priced Easter candy, so there was another win.

"Today we're making pinatas!" Steve said excitedly.

They hadn't been inspired by a streaming service's contest, how dare you.

"We did paper mache and now this is just a logical extension of that," Tony said. "With candy as the reward."

Weren't you glad to be in this class?

Steve nodded. "Because art can be playful and fun," he said. "We've got cardboard, paper, stuff to make frames out of, all the good stuff. Make a pinata that reminds you of Fandom: a gremlin, a teal deer--" a giant whackable Dean Skywalker face, whatever, "--even the castle if you're feeling ambitious."

"Use your imagination and do whatever you can think of," Tony added.

Maybe not the moose. He was surly.

heroic_jawline

Today's classroom had been set up with safety in mind--there were coveralls, eye protection, and heavy shoes for everyone. There were also sheets of metal and blowtorches.

"Today I'm going to let Tony take the lead," Steve said with a proud smile, "since this is his area of art expertise."

"It's metalwork day," Tony said cheerfully. Because, yes, this was his sort of art. "Now this can be dangerous, so Captain Rogers and I will be keeping a closer eye on you guys for it."

With that caveat, he went into the possibly too detailed explanation of the process and equipment being provided to the class.

There was the sound of banging on the door and Steve opened it to the sight of Dum-E, Tony's helper robot, wielding a fire extinguisher. "Oh no," Steve said before he could stop himself.

"And... also Dum-E to help supervise," Tony said, sighing as he just knew the flame retardant was in his future.

"Make something simple," Steve said, "like a bookend. Get a feel for the equipment and the metal. Don't burn anything or anyone."

"And the safety equipment is mandatory!" Because Tony was allowed to get burned a little, but the students weren't.

heroic_jawline

There was a large pile of rubber chickens in the classroom this week. Just go with it, okay? Just go with it.

"So this week is on modern art," Tony said, eyeing the pile.

"Modern art's not always incredibly weird," Steve felt compelled to add, "but sometimes it gets a little...out there."

"And we had a surplus of these, so..." Clearly it was the best solution! "You can cut them up, paint them, do whatever it is that you want," Tony said. "But the chickens must be in your project."

"And then you have to explain it," Steve said, nodding.

heroic_jawline

Well, one of your teachers still looked pleasantly tanned from your trip abroad, class. The other looked very much like he always did, which was part of the deal with super serum: amazing healing ability but also no lasting suntan. Since Steve was Irish, he'd never had a lasting suntan anyway, so he didn't feel like he was missing out much. "We promised you pottery before our break," he said with a little smile, "so today we'll...pot." No, that wasn't right. "Sculpt! Today we sculpt."

"Sculpt," Tony agreed with a laugh. "We have pottery wheels if you're feeling dangerous, but today will be more about getting a feel for the clay and what you can do with it."

That phrasing definitely would've gone badly during pollen week. "Think of it like Playdoh from when you were a kid," Steve advised. "Make lots of long snakes, then stack them up to make a vase. Once you have your basic shape, we'll let them dry and you can paint them next week. If you finish early, feel free to sketch out your plans for what the final piece will look like."

heroic_jawline

If the teachers at the front of the class looked slightly more rumpled than usual, they weren't going to mention it and they would appreciate you also not noticing.

"So, we were going to try out pottery today but decided that seemed like a bad idea this week," Steve said, blushing.

"So, instead, we're onto watercolors," Tony said, not blushing at all. Because he was Tony Stark, thank you. "We'll try again with pottery soon, though."

"We have a landscape for you to try out copying," Steve said, flipping the most boring photo he could find onto the wall for them. Waving grasses, placid lake, nothing remotely phallic.

"Calming. Relaxing," Tony said with a zen smile. "All very helpful here this week."

heroic_jawline

"Tony's feeling a little under the weather today," Steve said with a smile to the students as they arrived, "so we'll do a project without him just this once."

He gestured to the white wall behind him where he'd hammed a series of nails into it. "Today we're going to explore string art. We'll arrange colored thread between points to form geometric patterns. Even though we're forming straight lines are formed by the string, the slightly different angles and metric positions at which strings intersect gives the appearance of curves, which is fun and mathematical. String art has gotten much more complex thanks to artists using computers to design their works--you can even make photorealistic string art these days--and because string is a three-dimensional media, you can make really interactive displays."

He pushed a few buttons on the Danger Shop controls and one of the corners of the room filled with giant tape art displays. "Go for a walk through that display, get inspired, and then come back over here and work on a project of your own," Steve said.

heroic_jawline

Today there were very attractive painting coveralls for the students to put on before they entered the white space with a giant, ten foot tall and wide canvas hanging on the wall.

"Today we're exploring splatter painting," Steve said, looking excited.

"So, a bit of a mess," Tony said. "But a fun one! Like the finger painting, but to a much larger scale."

Something like that.

"And it also serves to show that making a painting like this look like something nice is a lot harder than it seems," Steve said. "There's a reason a Jackson Pollock goes for millions."

Did Tony own one? Probably.

"Let's get changed into the provided coveralls and give it a try!" Tony suggested. "Everyone take a portion of the canvas."

heroic_jawline

Today there were charcoal pencils of various sizes and those same two still life models of Avengers Tower and a fruit basket.

It was a new fruit basket, though. Fresh fruit and all.

"Welcome back," Tony said. "Today is, the medium is charcoal. Which is about as messy as engine grease, I've found."

Steve had a swipe of charcoal going from the side of his nose, along his cheek, and into his beard that he hadn't noticed yet, so he chuckled and shook his head. "I don't think it's that messy. This is a little like playing with the fingerpaints earlier in that it's much more tactile, but it combines what we did with the pencils because you only have one shade of color to be working with."

Tony hummed and would decidedly not be telling Steve about his smudges. Because he was far too polite for it. Or something. "Again, feel free to play around with it and get a feel for the material before starting."

"And remember that half the fun of this medium is using your fingers to smudge the lines," Steve added. "It shouldn't feel too precise."

heroic_jawline

Did the classroom the students walked into look a little elementary school adjacent? Maybe. It was bright, colorful, and full of smocks.

Steve wasn't wearing one. He was in a white t-shirt and a pair of khaki pants. "Hello!" he said, beaming at them as they arrived. "We're going to have so much fun this semester."

Tony was wearing one, but mostly because it was the vibe and not out of real concern for his clothing. Because so much of his casual stuff had engine grease stains or burn marks from soldering. "With art! That everyone can do," he added. "Even me."

Tony looked adorable. Well. Steve thought so. "Art is an excellent form of stress relief," he said, "as long as you don't get stuck in your head worrying about the right way to do things. This class will not be about stressing over technique. This will be about enjoying being creative."

"As such, our intro to the class will start off with fingerpainting," Tony said. "You can make whatever you like. But to fit in with the first day theme... aim for what you think expresses you best."

"Tony and I will be making art, too," Steve said with a smile, "and then before class is over, we'll all talk about our paintings."

geniuswithasmartphone

After being one of the few teachers to hold class last week, Hardison didn't feel all that guilty about canceling this one.

I was gonna have us practicing Life Drawing. That seems like a terrible plan and I've been too distracted to come up with a better one. Go home, do some art, call it good.

Sorry not sorry, kids.

[My apologies, though! It somehow never registered that today was Thursday!]

geniuswithasmartphone

Hardison was not exactly thrilled to have to dodge his way through the town-wide snowball fight. The gremlins were ambush masters and when they couldn't peg you with a snowball, they did their best to bite you. But Hardison could run when he needed to and had managed to make it to the school unscathed--and if the gremlins had brought their snowball fight up here to the school, they hadn't made it all the way to this little patch of grounds near the art classroom.

The snow here was still heavy and wet and mostly untouched. Perfect. He went around marking off mostly equivalent sized squares, while waiting for the class to show up. They'd find a note on the door telling them not to take off their winter gear and to head around to the outside.

"Hey y'all," he said when the class had mostly assembled. "So, we've talked about various other kinda sculptin', but today we're goin' with snow sculptin'. There are huge festivals every year where folks get together an' sculpt giant sculptures outta snow, mixin' fine art with performance art, as they do it in front of folks over a span of hours to days. Now, we ain't got the time or resources to do huge sculptures like that, but we got plenty of snow--" more than seemed reasonable, really "--an' an hour, so we can at least play around a bit."

He went over some quick instructions on different ways to build a snow sculpture. He had any number of potential ~~moddable~~ tools with him: sand buckets, jello molds, coolers, chisels, shovels, trowels, plywood boards--pretty much anything they might need to shape the snow.

And hopefully no gremlins would come along and ruin it.

geniuswithasmartphone

"Sometimes," Hardison said, "you wanna make art but you don't have the supplies. No oils, no paints, no pencils, no brushes, no cameras, not even pens or pencils to doodle with. But so long as you got even a single sheet of paper, you can make art."

Not that Hardison was going to limit them to just a single sheet of paper. Every table had several boxes of paper in various thicknesses, colors, and even designs. "I'm sure most of y'all know origami, the Japanese art form of paper foldin', though China an' Korea have their own versions as well. One German artist, Simon Schubert even uses small folds and creases in his art to create images that almost look painted on."

He started passing out books with patterns for people to copy if they wanted to get a start on paper folding.

"There's also the art of quillin', which takes strips of paper an' then rolls, twists, or folds 'em and then glues 'em down into patterns an' shapes to create a three-dimensional picture. These often to lead to bright an' colorful images as several different colors of paper are used. One popular method of quillin' involves using paper that has different colors an' images on either side, so as it's twisted, you get flashes of both sides throughout the pattern."

All right class, get to folding.

geniuswithasmartphone

A few years ago, when Hardison had been teaching a slightly different class, he'd called his old friend Mike to bring the class into his studio to watch him blow glass sculptures. And last week, he'd called him again to see if Mike would be amenable to another group tour.

...It turned out the answer was yes, because Mike had made a decent bit of money over the years hosting tours for other groups, but he was willing to do this one pro bono since Hardison had been the one to make the suggestion originally.

Hardison met his class at the front of the school, a portal ready to whisk them away. "Ready to go learn somethin' cool?" he asked. "One thing--where we're goin' is dangerous an' can be kinda expensive. Be careful an' respectful while we're there, especially when you're at the hands-on section of the class, a'ight?"

And with that, he gestured to the students to go through the portal.

The other side was the exact opposite of the cold they'd come from. Furnaces dotting the room put out enormous amounts of heat. There was a place for them to hang up their heavy outer gear and then they were being hustled into the center of the room, out of the way of anyone briskly walking about. "Welcome to a glass blowin' studio," he said as a man came over to greet them. "This is my boy, Mike, who's agreed to give y'all a demonstration of how to blow glass an' let us use his studio for a bit to mess around. Mike's a professional glass artist, been doin' this for years." And had taught Hardison to blow glass for a con, not that Mike had known that at the time.

...Or now, really.

Mike stepped forward and began to explain how to blow glass, complete with a demonstration.

"Y'all got that?" Hardison asked when he was done. "Awesome. Cause now it's your turn to make somethin'. Folks from Mike's studio are around to help an' offer advice, but y'all have free rein to look around an' experiment with a couple different items to create."

[First link to wikipedia, second to a Youtube video with narration.]

geniuswithasmartphone

"Yo, next week is spring break and I know most of you ain't really payin' attention to classes today," Hardison said. "So we got a movie about one of the greatest artists of the modern era, Frida Kahlo. A Mexican artist, her work explores identity, culture, postcolonialism, gender, class, an' race. She'd planned to be a doctor, but an accident at eighteen nearly killed her an' left her bedridden for months. That was when she began truly paintin' in earnest."

He gestured for the class to take seats in front of the screen he'd rigged up. "Get comfortable an' let's do this," he said.

geniuswithasmartphone

Hardison was glad Spring Break had fallen late this year; it meant he got to talk about one last black artist before Black History Month was over. "Barkley L. Hendricks is probably one of the most famous African-American oil painters to date. While he worked in many different mediums, including photography an' landscape paintin', he was best known for his life-sized oil portraits of African-American life. He blended together American realism an' post-modernism in order to create works intended to show that black folks were just as worthy of portraiture as well. He painted celebrities, leaders of the Black Power an' Civil Rights movements, protesters an' victims of police violence, as well as himself, friends, family, an' strangers. But he just depicted them as people, them all the same dignity in art that others had been awarded for years." Hardison handed out several prints of Hendrick's portraits for the students to examine and pass around, including one print just to shove the scale Hendricks worked in. "Lawdy Mama was painted in 1969, after Hendricks toured Europe, falling in love with several artists' styles but not seein' himself or his people represented in art there. Other paintings like Passion Dancehall an' Blood show modern, funky subjects while playin' around with color. He was also not afraid to get political, like his mixed-media work In the Crosshairs of the States. Hendricks died just last year in his home in Connecticut, havin' elevated both the art of oil paintin' an' the place of black folks as subjects in modern art."

That lecture over, he directed the students' attention over to the tables, where easels were set up. "So, oil paintin' is probably the most archetypal of the fine arts. It evokes the works of the great masters, of portraits of royalty an' nobility, of any number of museums you might have been to. Wanna make someone look intelligent an' refined in media? Hang an oil paintin' on the wall somewhere in their house. Wanna shorthand to show that someone is a real artist? Let 'em work with oils or have oil paint detritus in their house. Either way, the audience instantly realizes who this character is meant to be. However, oil paints are expensive, finicky to work with, an' take forever to dry. That's why oil sticks were invented; they're blocks of rich pigment in stick form, lettin' you draw an' color right on the canvas. You can also blend sticks to get different colors an' add layers for shading an' texture, just like you could with regular oil paints."

Even as much as Hardison loved to paint with his oils, there was just no way to get a painting done in a single class period.

"Today, you're gonna experiment with portraits. Use each other for models or one of your photographs if you took any of people, or snag a selfie on your phone an' use it for the basis of a self-portrait. Go nuts. You might wanna experiment with the sticks first, just to get a feel for how they work. Another great thing about oils? If you make a mistake, you can just scrape the pigment right off the canvas and try again."

Try doing that with watercolors!

geniuswithasmartphone

"I was originally gonna talk about another black photographer today as we learn to develop film," Hardison said as the students came into the darkened art room. There were blackout curtains over every window and a series of red lights were strung around the room for when he turned the overhead light off as well. "But history was made the other day with the unveiling of the Obama portraits. Not only are these the official portrait of our first African-American president and First Lady, but also these are the first official presidential portraits painted by African-American artists. President Obama's portrait was painted by Kehinde Wiley is an established portrait artist, his work had been in demand for over a decade an' recently been featured on Kingdom, that TV show about a black media mogul. Previous subjects of Wiley's have included LL Cool J, Michael Jackson, and Notorious B.I.G, an' he's known for paintin' them in similar poses to fancy historical figures. His work is known for its rich use of color and general homoeroticism, though the latter is missin' from Obama's portrait. Mrs. Obama's portrait was done by Amy Sherald, the first woman to win the Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition, in 2016. Still, she was a relatively obscure artist until she won the commission for this portrait. So, in case anyone tries to say that African-American excellence in art is a thing of the past, y'all can understand that, no, it's still thrivin'."

( Dark Room fun times )

And now Hardison was holding a picture of Eliot and Parker in the kitchen of their home, Eliot cooking and Parker laughing, both looking relaxed and happy. "By the time class is over, you should have all your pictures developed an' can pick out the best fifteen to submit."

geniuswithasmartphone

Today, the art classroom was pretty bare bones, just multiple 35mm cameras on the table, one for each student.

"Sup class," Hardison said when they came in. "Today, the artist we're learnin' about is Moneta Sleet Jr, the first African American to win a Pulitzer prize for journalism, based on his picture of Coretta Scott King and her daughter, Bernice King, at the funeral of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, after he was assassinated." He handed around copies of that picture so they could see it. "This wasn't the first time Sleet had worked with the Kings; he was originally sent to Alabama to cover the boycotts in 1955, at the start of what would become the Civil Rights Movement. He was unapologetic about his bias for the movement, too, sayin' 'I wasn't there as an objective reporter. I had something to say and was trying to show one side of it. We didn't have any problems finding the other side.' He photographed many of the civil rights leaders, a lot of the black heads of state from Africa, an' black celebrities like Mohammed Ali, Haile Selassie, Stevie Wonder, Jomo Kenyatta, an' Billie Holiday. An exhibition of his work in '86 also included a photo of a Florida coin-op laundry with a sign that said Especially for colored folk as a reminder of the livin' history of this country."

So many people forgot that the Civil Rights Movement had happened just a generation or so ago. Most of those people were still alive and active today, including Hardison's own Nana.

"Photography is just as much a visual art as paintin' an' sculptin'. Your homework for today an' the rest of the week is to take one of them cameras an' take pictures. As many pictures as you want--I got extra film I can hand out if you want it--but at least least one whole roll of film. So that's about 36 pictures, an' I want at least fifteen of 'em to substantially different from each other, a'ight?"

Hardison had no problems with taking a bunch of shots to get the best one, but he did want them to work on taking a range of pictures.

"Next week, we'll learn how to develop them in a dark room. Until then, grab your camera an' go."

geniuswithasmartphone

"Sup, class an' welcome to the first day of Black History Month," Hardison said, once all of his students had filed into the art room. "I know class is usually more about makin' art than learnin' about it, but for all that African-Americans have been professional artists since before America was an independent country, there ain't a lot of people who can name even a single black visual artist. In most normal schools, you end up learnin' about the Renaissance masters, Impressionism, maybe even Modern Art an' Surrealism, but information about black artists outside of music an' the Harlem Renaissance is pretty thin on the ground. So for the rest of February, your art is gonna come with a side of history."

Sorry not actually sorry about that.

"Today, our artist is Dindga McCannon, a mixed-media artist who combines her training in the fine arts with the knowledge of needlework, embroidery, an' quiltin' that her mother an' grandmother taught her. Her art is strongly feminist in scope, in no small part because of the strong familial ties that brought her to it, celebratin' women's lives. McCannon was part of the first show of professional black women artists in New York City, back in the 1970s. For those of you who are from earth, I want y'all to think about that for a minute: it wasn't until the 1970s that New York had a show dedicated to black women artists." He couldn't help but shake his head at that.

"You can see some of McCannon's art here," he added, holding up a book with hi-res images of her quiltwork. "She also wrote an' illustrated a YA novel called Peaches. But for today, we're takin' inspiration from her work, Revolutionary Sister, currently on display at the Brooklyn Museum. Revolutionary Sister is a great example of mixed-media art, which is basically any art where more than one medium is employed. You wanna use pencil an' oil paint together, that's mixed media. Revolutionary Sister uses the kind of mixed media art that incorporated found objects--basically, you take items that were manufactured for a different purpose an' incorporate those into the finished piece. In her piece, you can see she uses yarn, bullet casings, a zipper, an' several other items to create the figure of a woman. That's what we'll be doin' today."

With that, Hardison started pulling out boxes and bins of ~~moddable~~ materials, as well as canvas and paints. "Nothin's off-limits today," he said. "But I want y'all to paint somethin' an' add these found objects into the work. Not just as accessories, though, I wanna see at least a good quarter of the piece be made up of found objects. Feel free to use other stuff we've gone over--clay, glass if you're careful, whatever. You got this."

geniuswithasmartphone

Hardison met the class back in the art room wearing a canvas smock that was already streaked with grayish-brown matter. "So, we been spendin' a lot of time paintin' an' such, but there's a lot more to art than just two-dimensions. Today, we're expandin' into the third dimension by workin' with clay!" He seemed very excited about this, yes. "Clay is an old art form an' very versatile, goin' back almost to the beginnin' of humanity, when we were usin' it to make cups, bowls, oil lamps, an other useful pottery. Because it's so old, there are plenty of ways to work with clay, so I encourage you to try a coupla different ways out."

He handed out smocks to everyone so they could protect their clothing, then brought them over to a table where there were several lumps of clay in various stages of completion. "So, there are multiple ways of workin' clay, from handworkin' where you make basic pinch pots to coiled pots to slab pots." With each type of pot he mentioned, Hardison took a few moments to show the students the basic steps. "Over here, we got a few pottery wheels where you can attempt to throw a pot." He nearly made a joke about no reenacting the scene from Haunt and realized that it was possible none of the students would get it.

Oh god, he was getting old.

"Now, some important tips. Keep some water handy, cause water will help loosen your clay. If you make a mistake, a little bit of water will help smooth it down. Too much water, though, an' your clay can liquify, so be sparin'. Also, you might wanna beat on your clay a little bit to help loosen it up an' make it more malleable--think like a baker with bread dough. An' lastly, when you're cleanin' up, don't let any clay go down the sink. It ain't water soluable, so if too much goes down the drain, the pipes'll clog an' I don't need Principal Winchester comin' after me for bustin' the schools plumbin'."

geniuswithasmartphone

Class was back in the Danger Shop today and that was entirely for aesthetic purposes. They'd be working with real supplies and would be able to take their pieces home with them, but Hardison was a little extra sometimes and had decided that creating stained glass was absolutely impossible unless the students were working in a holographic version of La Sainte Chapelle.

"Mornin'!" he greeted when the class filed through the door. "So, y'all can probably guess today's project just from our surroundings. Stained glass has been used in decoration for thousands of years, an' was used in Europe heavily in the Middle Ages to teach bible stories to the general populace, most of whom couldn't read. That's why so many cathedrals an' the like have these beautiful stained glass windows in 'em, so that the parishioners could follow along with the stories as they were bein' read. There's a lot more to the history an' art of stained glass, especially its place in Islam, an' if you're interested, I've got plenty of links an' things I can share."

But this was art class and not art history, and Hardison was excited to get going. "Today, we're makin' DIY stained glass art pieces. Now, real stained glass involves a highly technical, very dangerous process with chemicals an' that's a semester's worth of lessons on its own. Since we only got an hour--less if you wanna explore the cathedral--we're gonna take some short cuts."

There were desks scattered all around the main hall of the cathedral. On them were the necessary supplies: paper, fat black markers, pieces of glass in various shapes and sizes, liquid leading, and a variety of glass stains. "Making faux stained glass is easy," Hardison explained. "First, take your marker an' draw a design on the paper. It can be a design, a drawing, it can be realistic, or heavily stylized. Anything you want--except, once again, can't be anythin' you've created for class already." No diamonds, no logos, no horses, no baked goods, no futuristic cities. Hardison was trying to get them to move out of their comfort zones. "Feel free to look around if you need some inspiration, or look through some of the books an' things I brought along about the history of stained glass."

The Islamic geometric patterns in particular were gorgeous and the art deco movement had done a lot for the use of glass.

"Once you have a pattern you like, put it down on the desk, place a piece of glass over it, an' use your liquid leading to follow the lines. Make sure they all connect, or the stain is gonna spread an' mix. Once you've got the outline done in the liquid lead, add your stain. You can mix the stain right on the glass to get different colors, or swirl 'em around for different effects. Just make sure you pop any bubbles in the stain before it dries, or they'll form imperfections on your glass. If you make a mistake with your stainin', a little hot water will clean it up an' you can start all over again. Once you're done, just let it dry an' there you go! Your own piece of stained glass art."

geniuswithasmartphone

Okay, so Peridot needed to be gently shooed away from making more statuary horrors, Rufus needed to be encouraged to experiment and let go, Gratuity and Eric needed to be encouraged in general, and Summer needed to understand that no professional con artist--hell, no one who listened to the radio--was buying her 'I am free like a horse frollicking in a meadow' nonsense.

Though he appreciated the attempt, so good on her anyway.

"A'ight class, what's up?" he greeted as they came into the art room. No Danger Shop this week; all the materials they needed were right here. It had taken a bit of time to get the walls covered with paper, but it wasn't like anyone else was going to be using the art room. "So, last week, you worked in the familiar, whether it was a piece you'd designed a hundred times or just somethin' that you're already familiar with. But art is about pushin' limits an' challengin' the status quo. Today, you're thinkin' big an' bright an' colorful."

He pointed to the walls which were all covered by large swathes of thick, white paper. "First of call, there's your canvas. Each of y'all pick a section of wall, at least as wide as your wingspan an' as tall as you are--though you can go bigger if you want." Because otherwise Peridot would have a fairly limited amount of wall to work on. "There are stools an' chairs' and step-ladders in case you wanna get higher. An' this is your medium." He pulled out an entire box of...shaving cream? And food coloring. And muffin tins.

Okay then.

"So, first off, you're gonna make your own color palette," Hardison instructed, adding a bit of the shaving cream to a cup in the muffin tin and then a drop of yellow food coloring. He mixed it and the resulting cream was a pale, lemony shade. "Y'all got red, blue, yellow, an' black food coloring. With those, you should be able to experiment an' make as many different shades as you want. The ratio of food colorin' to shavin' cream changes the value an' vibrancy of the shade. You want dark, bold colors, use lots of food colorin' an' less cream. Soft pastels, more cream, less colorin'. Mess around until you got the colors an' values you want, then start paintin'." He nodded at the walls. "Figure out what you wanna paint, but make it somethin' you're not used to. Try somethin' new, somethin' experimental. I don't wanna see nothin' that looks like what you presented me last week. An' try to fill up the whole canvas if you can."

geniuswithasmartphone

Class was in the Danger Shop today, but the Danger Shop itself was set up to look like a large, airy art room, filled with any number of different options for art. There were canvases with acrylics, oils, and watercolors. Large sheets of paper with pens, pencils, crayons, markers, chalk, and charcoal. Clay for molding and shaping, supplies for papier-mâché, and colored sand, styrofoam, and wax for sculpting. There were crystals and beads and even raw macaroni noodles in various shapes and colors, along with string and glue and construction paper. In the corner of the room, there were even supplies to make sock puppets. Pretty much any ~~moddable~~ art material someone could need was available.

"Welcome to art class," Hardison said, waving as his class entered--and keeping an eye out for any visitors that might be peeping in as well. "This is just straight up an' art class, not art history or art theory. So while we might spend some time learnin' about different techniques an' stuff, most of the class is geared towards y'all gettin' your hands dirty an' learnin' by doin'. Consider it an hour you get to spend creatin' somethin' an' maybe discoverin' a talent you ain't know you had."

If there was one thing he'd seen among the denizens of Fandom, it was that most of them were creative in one way or another, even if that creativity was just finding new and exciting ways to get into trouble.

"Now, I know that this week is supposed to be introductions an' it will be. But we're doin' it at the end. For today, I want you to spend the period makin' somethin' that you feel represents you. Paint a picture. Draw somethin'. Make somethin'. Build somethin'. Whatever you feel represents who you are, express it with some kinda art. At the end of class, we're gonna go 'round the room an' introduce ourselves. Name, grade, any kinda art experience you already got, an' then an explanation of what you created an' why it represents who you are."

locointhecoco

The classroom tables were covered in a wide variety of ~~moddable~~ materials, today, from cleaned up milk cartons to pre-cut slabs of wood to foraged sticks. All along the walls were photos of happy song birds of all varieties, perched on branches, building nests, and hanging out in front of all sorts of different styles of birdhouses. There were building supplies like glue and string and duct tape, and lots of paint and glitter to decorate with.

Also, Pinkie had an accordion.

Fear, students. Fear.

Derek was wishing he'd stayed in the fish based rain and looking about as surly as he always did. "We're building birdhouses," he said like blurting it out would keep Pinkie from singing.

His optimism was adorable.

"MAKE A LITTLE BIRDHOUSE IN YOUR SOUL!" Pinkie sang at the top of her lungs. And then grinned mischievously at him.

Derek sighed the sigh of those who had long ago lost control of their lives. "I regret hugging you."

"Liar," said Pinkie cheerfully. "Not to put too fine a point on it, say I'm the only bee in your bonnet. . . ."

She seemed . . . unlikely to get any actual teaching done, today.

"Just. Just make a birdhouse, everyone. Use any of the materials you want. Glue any body part to something and you get to sing with the pony." Derek was super serious, you guys.

justlurkinghere

Pinkie was in extra fine form, today, standing amidst what appeared to be giant piles of brightly colored rocks, wearing a chef's hat, a pair of safety goggles, and a set of the rocks on a string around her neck and all four hooves.

"HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI!" she greeted. Great. Someone had let the pony have caffeine.

Derek was wincing, hands over his ears like that would protect him from high pitched, loud ponies. It did not protect anything. "Inside voice."

"Oops!" said Pinkie, looking abashed. "SORRY." She cleared her throat, covering her mouth with one hoof. "Today we're going to make friendship jewelry. It's one my sister's and my specialties!"

She then proceeded to explain the rock candy around her and how she and her sister Maude started exchanging rock candy jewelry to show their friendship with each other.

"Oh god, there's another of you?" Derek was focused on that. Somehow.

"Uh," Pinkie said. "I have a whole family. Maude's just my favorite." Geez, Derek.

"Oh god."

"Don't worry," Pinkie said brightly. "I'm sure you'll get to meet her at least at the next Parent's Weekend!"

locointhecoco

There were aprons at the front of the class today, most likely repurposed from the baking class they'd taught in the spring. Pinkie was sure Derek had missed all his very special aprons! (He had not.)

There were also things that looked like record players scattered around on the the desks and piles of clay to grab from. So, you could probably guess what today's class was about. No, it wasn't about reconnecting to your recently murdered lover with some sensual art making. God. Why are you so gross? Do that on your own time.

"Today we're going to make pots!" Pinkie said. She was, somehow, already covered in little flecks of clay. And glitter. There wasn't even any glitter in this part of pot-making. She had a special talent.

A terrifying, terrifying talent.

Derek was also covered in flecks of clay and glitter, but looked pretty sullen about it. So, you could take a guess how that happened. "One wheel a person. No Ghosting."

Buzz kill.

Look, even Pinkie had finally agreed that the pottery cannon wasn't a good idea. Get over it.

"I don't know what 'ghosting' is," Pinkie said, "but I will punish you severely for doing it!"

By which she meant put a rubber chicken on your head and make you sit in the corner.

As you do.

Derek raised his eyebrows at the class like he was trying to let them know that Pinkie was capable of anything. Anything. Just look at how she managed to con him into teaching with her so much! "Pick an apron. Ignore what they say."

Because they were all apparently purchased on discount from the 'Bad Innuendo Warehouse'. They were on sale. At the outlet. So they were possibly even improperly spelled.

Have fun, kids.

justlurkinghere

Pinkie was shooting rubberbands across the classroom today with her hooves, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she aimed, then let go with little "p-too!" noises.

At least she seemed to be having fun. And wasn't shooting glitterbombs at people. ~~Yet.~~

"I'm not cleaning that up." Derek was so cleaning that up. His bitch face at the mess made that perfectly clear.

Please. Rubber bands would be the least of his cleaning woes, today.

"Today we're going to do tie-dye!" Pinkie cheered, whipping a drop cloth off of a line of pristine five-gallon paint buckets full of dye by the back wall. She possibly should have saved that cloth for under the buckets, instead of using it for a rather anticlimactic dramatic reveal. But, you know. Que sera, sera.

"God help us," Derek muttered under his breath. "There's gloves so you don't dye your skin. And if you still manage to do that, you're on your own."

"Humans could really stand to be more colorful," Pinkie noted. "So if you really wanna dye your skin, I'm not going to stop you."

She was the best teacher ever.

Derek sighed the most dramatic sigh he could sigh. "We have white t-shirts to work with. Don't screw up too much."

He was the best teacher ever.

locointhecoco

Pinkie greeted the class with a tip of her classy old-timey hat. Unlike some, Pinkie had managed to keep some of her duds from the weekend. Or possibly regenerate them in some sort of weird fourth-wall breaking cartoon gag.

"Alright, fellas, get in your seats, see?" she sneered with an outrageous accent. "It's time for class!"

"Oh for the love of god," Derek said, covering his face with one hand. How was this his life? Just how?

BECAUSE YOU LOVED IT, DEREK. YOU LOVED THE INSANITY AND THE GLITTER. MOSTLY THE GLITTER.

It was a fact. Pinkie's classes contained at least 20% less glitter when Derek wasn't in them.

"Shut it, you dirty rat," Pinkie said cheerfully. "I'm trying to teach a class, see?"

She didn't even talk like this when she WAS noir.

Derek sighed the sigh of someone who was reconsidering every single choice he'd made in his life that brought him to this point. "Today we're weaving trivets," he ground out, staring up at the ceiling because it was preferable to his life.

Oh god. His life.

"We're makin' potholders this week, see. Potholders for teapots. So get some loops and get weaving! This tea ain't gonna party itself!"

That didn't even make sense.

locointhecoco

Class was ~~handwavily~~ notified that their first session was to be held on the rocky bits of Fandom Island. Upon arrival, they would find that someone had set up some precarious looking -- but surprisingly sturdy -- picnic tables amongst the rocks, and covered said tables with paints and glue and bags of googly eyes and pipe cleaners.

And, yes, lots of glitter. It was basically tradition.

Pinkie greeted the class gleefully. "Hellohellohello! I'm Pinkie Pie, and this is Derek, and we're your teachers for this session's funtabulous Arts & Crafts workshop!"

Derek, it seemed, was ~~being shamelessly modded~~ just going to let Pinkie take this one on. Poor long suffering fool.

"And this is Gummy!" Pinkie said, pointing at the tiny little alligator sitting blank-eyed on her head. "He's my pet. It's great to have pets! Almost anypony's life can be improved with a faithful little companion. But not everypony can have every kind of pet. Some ponies don't even want the responsibility of a little critter pet. Some ponies, like my very bestest sister Maude, prefer a nice, loyal pet rock. And that's why we're here!" She flung her hooves out in the traditional V. "Today, you're all going to find a fun little pet rock all of your own! We've got lots of things to decorate your pet rock with and make him or her or it feel real extra super special! And 'cause it's the first day, when you're all set, we'll get to introducing ourselves -- and our new extra special rock friends!"

Now aren't you all glad you signed up for this class? You get rock friends.

justlurkinghere

Each table in the classroom today had two large vats on it, one full of cookie dough, the other full of stoneware clay.

Try not to get the two confused, okay?

Spaced out around the room were pottery wheels and little baking ovens, as well as stations full of colored icing and sparkly sprinkles, ceramic glaze and, of course, glitter.

No, really. Don't get them confused. That would be bad.

Pinkie was already liberally spattered in something with the color and consistency of either cookie dough or clay. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth as she attempted to maintain control of the towering, unstable vase she was trying to throw. When the top started to get too wobbly, she caught the falling end of it on her tongue and slurped the whole thing up, smacking her lips.

"Right," she said. "Trying to make a cookie dough vase toooootally doesn't work very well."

"We all could have told you that," Derek said with a sigh. Once that was taken care of, he turned his attention to the students. "It's the last day of class, so you get something easy."

Relatively easy. Relatively.

"Fun with ooey-gooey tasty and/or pretty stuff!" Pinkie enthused, flinging her hooves in the air -- without hurling glitter all over the place, for once. "You can make all kinds of shapes out of either cookie dough or clay and then you bake them and then you get to decorate them and then you can share them with your friends!"

This was clearly the greatest idea in the history of ever.

Even though glitter didn't go anywhere, Derek was still flinching as though expecting a shower of it. Because he was traumatized by glitter, people. "Or keep them for yourselves."

Boooo. Derek had no joy in his heart!

Pinkie pouted at him. "That is not the magic of friendship!" she hissed, in what she clearly thought was a whisper. "You're teaching them wrong!"

It was possible she'd been wanting to say that since they first started teaching together last semester.

Really, she should have expected this from the very beginning. Derek just smirked out at the class. "Get to work."

justlurkinghere

The class had been ~~handwavily~~ notified to meet outside this week, in a handy junction of sidewalks. Pinkie waved the students over, wearing a jaunty sunhat and the world's largest pair of sunglasses.

Hey, you did not want to see the color the pink pony turned when she got sunburned.

"Hihi, everypony! Isn't today just the perfect day for some fun in the sun?!"

Just say no, kids. It will spare your hair and clothing the inevitable glitter explosion.

Derek sighed in the background, resigned to his own fate. "We're going to do some sand art," he said, gesturing toward a variety of bags of sand. It was like a sand rainbow!

"Sand sparkles almost as much as glitter does!" Pinkie enthused. "Isn't that neat?!"

Fear it.

"Or you can draw with chalk." Derek didn't think you could add glitter to that, so he held out hope it would be safe.

Oh ye of little faith, Derek. Glitter bombs went with all the crafts.

"And then when you're all done," Pinkie said, "you can run through the sprinklers!" She looked around, not spotting any sprinklers, and pouted, then reached a hoof into her beach bag (totally there the whole time, shush) and pulled one out, its hose leading right back into the bag. She set it on the grass, tapped it with her hoof, and it started spouting a jolly spray of water, throwing off rainbows as it refracted the light.

It was just all sunshine and happiness over here, kids. Whether you like it or not.

justlurkinghere

There was a colorful assortment of pipe cleaners, pom poms, construction paper, and brown paper lunch bags.

Oh, and glitter. You could never escape the glitter, kids. Never. Aren't you glad you took this amazing class now?

Obviously. What could be better than all glitter, all the time?

"Hi, everypony!" Pinkie greeted cheerfully. "I hope you're all set to make yourselves some brand new friends, because today, that's just what we're doing! Isn't that right, Baggelina?" She lifted one of her hooves, showing off a paper lunch bag puppet with fluffy ribbon hair and spiralling googly eyes. "^{THAT'S RIGHT, PINKIE!}" she said, her eyes going a little wonky as she spoke for the puppet. "^{HOW ABOUT YOU, MR. FUZZY PANTS?}" She picked up her other hoof, showing a little pom-pom, pipe-cleaner creature. "_{SURE AM, BAGGELINA,}" said Pinkie, in a low, grouchy voice. "Hurray!" she finished, in her own.

Yeeeeeah.

Derek sighed, trying not to give the drama any more attention than it needed. Because he was the biggest spoilsport ever. "Just don't get glitter on each other," he ground out.

"^{I LOVE YOU, DEREK,}" Baggelina said, popping up on one side of him. Pinkie snickered softly to herself, lifting Mr. Fuzzy Pants up on the other side.

"_{I DON'T,}" said Mr. Fuzzy Pants. Pinkie gasped.

"Mr. Fuzzy Pants! That's not nice!"

But it was an accurate response to his charm! Derek covered his face with his hands. "Why did I agree to this class?"

Why indeed.

flashesforinfo.livejournal.com

Today the class would find they had been directed to the Danger Shop for their final. It was much, much easier for this, Angela had decided.

It was laid out simply, with a large white wall taking up most of the space, and art supplies taking up the rest.

“I’m not going to try and give you all a real final, because this is summer camp and that seems a little wrong.” Also she honestly didn’t want to have to try and mark people on a class with ‘therapy’ in the title. More wrong, somehow. “So call this a group project.”

Angela leaned patted the wall a couple of times. “I want this all filled up by the end of class, with whatever calls you. Consider yourselves the next Banksy.”

Current Mood: bouncy

flashesforinfo.livejournal.com

Today there were magazines. Everywhere. Magazines and newspapers and old movie posters, and leaflets and a number of other paper-based products. Near them was also a stack of regular blank cardboard and glue, paint and glitter.

“Today is collage day,” Angela announced, once everyone had arrived. “Flick through all the reading material, and if something draws you, rip it out. Maybe it’s things you like, maybe things you can’t stand, maybe it's just words. It doesn’t matter. Once you’ve got yourself a good collection, you’ll be turning it into collage, or a poem, or a ransom note or something else. The choice is yours.”

“If you want something you don’t see around, just ask. Otherwise, this should be a nice easy day for you guys.”

Current Mood: calm

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.”

Current Mood: artistic

flashesforinfo.livejournal.com

With last week all about body decoration, today was... somewhat related. On the floor in the middle of the room was a veritable mountain of second hand clothes, material scraps, trash bags, newspaper, tinsel and just about anything else you could ~~mod~~ possibly fashion into or use to make a piece of clothing or an accessory.

Angela was looking particularly amused. “If any of you have ever tried to make your own clothes, you will already be well aware that it is nowhere near as easy as it looks.” She spoke from experience, she really did. “But modification? That’s pretty fun.”

Again, she hoped people took her ‘wear things you don’t mind destroying’ advice from the course description. “So I want you to come up with a way to make your clothing just a little more unique. Help yourself to fabric, or whatever else you can find in there. We’ve got pins, needles and thread and sewing machines, glue, spray paint... sequins and glitter.”

“If you’re going to duke it out over scraps, try to do it nicely!”

Current Mood: excited

flashesforinfo.livejournal.com

“Today, we’re taking a slightly different look at art. I want you to pair up, and this is part an example of expression, and part a trust exercise, so pick your partners wisely.” On the tables in front of them they would find a variety of tubes and pots. “On the side you’ll find some henna,” and she picked up a tube to illustrate. “Most of you probably know it, but for those who don’t, it’s been used in many cultures in their body art since the bronze age, right up to today when it’s going to be used by us.”

Angela continued for a few moments about the preparation and history and passed out a few examples she’d printed off and showed the back of her own hand as a ‘this is what I did earlier’ example. “You can use these as some inspiration, but also bear in mind you should be trying to reflect something of your partner in there.” Hopefully. But she supposed that depended on how well this lot knew each other. “It’s all non-permanent and should wash off, but you can still have a little practice on a piece of paper first. I know some of these are really intricate, and I don’t expect you all to spend hours on this, but since you will be drawing on someone else, you should probably take requests.”

“If you can’t work a henna tattoo.” Say if you had fur. “It also can be used as a dye, so you can go red for a little while.” You know, if you weren’t already like say Angelica. “And if you don’t want any of your classmates or there’s just an odd number, I’m around too.”

Current Mood: bouncy

flashesforinfo.livejournal.com

The art room was set out a little more normally than last week. No coffee this time, because it really didn’t go very well with practical art. You could not imagine the number of times Angela had almost drunk dirty paint water.

Not that anyone would find that a problem today. In this case, it would be dirty clay water, which was almost as bad.

“Today, we are experimenting with pottery,” Angela announced. “Which I think you’ll love. I hope you all paid attention to the sign up note about wearing clothes that can get dirty.” Clay dust got everywhere.

“The preparation is almost the best part of this, and the most therapeutic, because it basically amounts to hitting some clay”, and Angela launched into an explanation of some different varieties of kneading and exactly why she thought this was remotely relevant to art therapy. “Once you’re happy with your air bubble-less clay, and you’ve taken any bad feelings out on the stuff, you can get to making something. I don’t mind what, just relax, let your mind wander, and whatever flows, flows. Later you can pair up and talk about what you’ve made.” Or whatever else, because like anyone would stick on topic

“I’ll get it all fired by next week and you can keep it.” If it turned out respectably and people wanted their stuff. “Remember to put a hole in the bottom if it’s not a pot, or it could explode and that’s never pretty.” Never.

“Okay, collect some clay and a tub of tools and get kneading.”

Current Mood: dorky

flashesforinfo.livejournal.com

Friday morning, there was coffee and cookies supplied. Don’t get too used to that, kids. The enthusiasm would probably wear off just a little as the term went on. The desks were arranged in a circle and on each one students would find an A5 sketchpad.

Angela would be found sitting on one of the desks, facing them all. "So welcome to Art Therapy." She was maybe the tiniest bit excited about this, yes. "I’m Angela Montenegro, Fandom class of 2010. Just call me Angela. I’ll be Ms. Montenegro when I get old." Aka. not yet. "Hopefully you’re all here by choice, if not... I’m sorry, but I’ll try and keep it bearable. I’ve always found my art to be one of the greatest outlets. For stress, for happiness, for anger, and just for expressing yourself and your own individuality. The best art is all about emotion, but you’ve got to know how to tap it. So we are going to be looking at that and also learning how art can help you. Because it can, I promise."

"The sketchbooks are yours for art journaling. Decorate them, draw in them, whatever takes you. If decide to destroy yours... Safety first." Art therapy, guys. She wouldn’t judge. "If you do one of the former, I would love to see it." There was no need to bring back the remains if you went for the latter. Really.

"If you ever have any questions, or problems, or whatever else, come find me or you can talk to my fabulous TA Angelica here."

Okay. That out the way. "It’s Friday of the first week, you all know where this is going by now. I want to know a little about you guys." And she was going to start with you, random student.

[[ ocd ~~a’coming~~ done done done. ]]

Current Mood: busy

drinks_coffeezilla

Dean looked... more or less resigned to the stupid uniform that he had to wear today. But only because he wasn't the only one in the room wearing one such uniform, and because he was drinking coffee without fear of sprouting wings (Monday had been an exercise in not freaking out for Dean, yes), and because, lucky him, he had a class that seemed more or less normal right from the get-go. Well, unless you counted the fact that he'd had to walk to work with a crowbar this afternoon so that he didn't get eaten by bunnies, but that was completely different.

"So, this is our final week together," Dean shared, leaning back against his desk and shooting a lopsided little smile at his class. "Which means two things. First, your sculpture assignments should be finished, and second... final exam."

Because that was just how Dean McCoppin rolled. And also because the School Board was making him. But mostly the first one, if anyone asked.

"You'll find everything you need on your desks. You have the rest of the period to finish your tests, and then when you're finished... I don't know. Glue macaroni to the outside of some tin cans or something. This is the last hour of school before the summer, period. Get messy."

If they happened to ruin their uniforms in the process, then all the better, right?

[Open!]

drinks_coffeezilla

"Hey guys. As you all are probably aware, next week is our last week of class before the summer," Dean greeted as his students filed into the art room. "Which means your final projects, the sculptures I had you start at the beginning of the semester, are due in exactly one week. Now, I don't want to be the kind of guy to rush art, and if you can't quite finish before the week is through I'm not going to hold it against you, but if you guys have more work to do on your pieces, I'd appreciate if you did that. After all, the more you get done, the more I have to mark you on."

Dean paused for a moment to pour himself a mug of coffee, black, and then offered the group an easy little grin.

"Since we've all been on our field trip to the scrapyard, you've hopefully got everything you need in order to finish your sculptures. If not, I've been spending a bit of time at the junkyard lately. Come and talk to me, and I'll see what I can dig up this week. Likewise, if there's any scrap metal that you guys need welded on to your pieces, I'm the guy to talk to about that, too. We can make an appointment to meet at the junkyard, you can tell me exactly where you need what, and I'll do all of that 'fire hazard' stuff myself, like a responsible adult or something."

A beat, and then Dean shrugged.

"Or whatever else you might need help with. In any case, this is a free-for-all class for you guys to pull together your final projects, and next week there's going to be a final, so try to remember some of the things I told you about composition and color theory this semester, or whatever. Go at it, guys."

drinks_coffeezilla

"Hey there, guys," Dean greeted, offering his students a nod toward the desk, which contained the requisite coffee as well as an assortment of chocolate eggs. Because... hey, they were cheap, and why not? "As you may or may not know, this weekend is Easter weekend. And I'm not going to stand here and assume that any of you celebrate Christian holidays or anything like that, but, and you can call this inspiration or something, it seemed to me like today was the sort of day where maybe I could pull out some eggs and have you guys decorate them all the same. It's not just an Easter thing, after all."

For all he knew, his students came from the moon or something. But decorating fragile things, scrap or not, was one of those artsy things that he'd been wanting to touch on anyhow.

"You've got a few options for decorating your eggs. You can just dye them. Stick them in a cup with dye in it, and when you pull them out, presto. Color. That option works well if you want to draw on them with a crayon first. The wax will resist the dye, so that part of the egg will stay the color of the crayon. You can just paint them. You know, with paint. Pretty straightforward. You can take an egg with some color to it, either a dyed one or a brown hen's egg or something, and you can carve patterns in it. Careful with that one, since eggshells are pretty fragile and you'd be working with something sharp..." Odds were high that he'd be watching Butters like a hawk if he chose that option, "or you can just stick things to it. Feathers, googly eyes, whatever you dig the most. I'm not going to tell you you're decorating your eggs wrong."

A beat.

"You might want to empty them out first, though. Grab a bowl, poke a hole in either end, and blow. I mean, you can let 'em stay in one piece if you really want to. I don't live in your dorm building and I don't have to smell that funk if you break one of 'em. But the not-keeping-rotten-eggs-around thing comes pretty highly recommended. Just saying."

[Open!]

Fandom High RPG

About the Game

---       Master Game Index
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---       Existing Character Directory

In-Character Comms

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Off-Island Travel
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Once Upon a Time...
---       FH Wishverse AU

Out-of-Character Comms

---       Main OOC Comm
---       Plot Development
---       OOC-but-IC Fun

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Disclaimer

Fandom High is a not-for-profit text-based game/group writing exercise, featuring fictional characters and settings from a variety of creators, used without permission but for entertainment purposes only.

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Fandom High RPG