Annie Tobin

seven months in animated suspension

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 23:35:00 +0000

. . . and the next thing you know, your entire world falls careening from the sky . . . or no, wait, maybe the perspective is completely upturned and your whole world rises gracefully spiraling upward. Sometimes, the way we look at the events in our life misleads us. Our focus is on what's missing rather than on what spaces have recently opened up around us, allowing new growth to occur. Sometimes we create the open spaces ourselves because the overgrowth, untended for so many years, has started to choke the life out of us, and our last resort is to clear it all away.
. . . I guess in a way, that's been my process the last few months. Without mucking around in the dirt (-y details), I'll just say that my life has changed considerably in the last few months. My relationships have changed, my habits changed. My teaching is the same, though actually a little better since I am leaning so heavily these days on the familiarity of it, and the sense of confidence I get from it. But every other relationship has changed, as has my physical environment.
. . . and I guess what I really want to write in this entry is a question. How do we remain tethered (and I mean the good kind of tethered, the grounded kind) to our identities, our true artistic and creative selves, our spiritual selves, when everything we are familiar with is gone? When all faces are new and we've put aside the comfort of the familiar in order to find something better for the second half of our lives--a truer sense of self, a clearer vision of what we've wanted for so many years, and the courage to take that path to find it? When an artist decides to walk away from her secure, familiar place because she has examined her life and sees that place as creatively oppressive and draining, and instead walks toward the unknown, the unpredictable, and the last thing she feels like doing is making art (because it's soul-baring--soul-flaying-- and fills her with more fear of the unknown), how does she get past that?
. . . nothing left to blame my reticence on now. I've changed my world so that I can fully engage and explore my artist self. I can't very well say now that I can't engage and explore because I've changed my life. A bit too convenient, don't you think? And a bit cowardly.
. . . so that's it for now. A question. A pause to consider parameters, or the lack of such.

. . . but we need poetry

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Tue, 05 May 2009 01:25:00 +0000

Someone once said I should be careful about putting my unpublished poems on my blog. Yeah-so?

Here's one for you, as I perceive it, because otherwise the world doesn't make any sense:

The Anatomies

The possibility of a world without shadows
terrifies her. Trees floating without anchors,
the position of the sun persisting mysteriously.

Ground was meant to bear weight, the heft of objects,
of oak, madrone, pickup trucks, oil rigs,
people maybe. The anatomy of shadow connects

with the anatomy of light, two disciplines in her mind,
but of the same mother, like art and science
providing a strategy for the existence of things.

Careful when she sketches the hemisphere’s curve,
the convergence of depth where orthagonals meet,
she arrests all points at the horizon.

Line is all-important to me, whether it be an orthogonal line or the turn of a line of poetry. Line is the boundary we create, a matter of form, or in the flatter sense of the word, shape.

And Then Came Maude

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 04:22:00 +0000

Bea Arthur. That incredibly low voice . . ."Oh Walter," . . . that dry sense of humor . . . . . I always thought you had the coolest hair ever. In the 70's when I first saw Maude, I saw in you my mom and most of the women she worked with--strong and self-possessed. What an awesome role-model you were.

Thanks Bea Arthur . . . the world is soooo going to miss you.

plugged back in

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 03:40:00 +0000

Indeed. We gave the grand "internet-free home" experiment a hardy try. And now we're done with that and have re-entered the 21st century. For a while it wasn't too difficult to find access. Cafes, friends' homes, work. But I'm barely good at the internet here, readily accessible in my living room, let alone in places I need to get to. So, to all of you who expected responses to your emails, to facebook entries, etc. . . . lo siento. I can be better, faster, more in tune with the current! Talk to you soon.

a teasing taste of spring

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 21:46:00 +0000

Well . . . ? Is it spring or not? I have to ask myself when I ride my bike out in the country and notice blossoms drifting off trees in February and I can't help but wonder if all this warm weather is going to confuse the trees as much as it's confusing me? Will there be blossoms left when they're supposed to be here? In April/May? I haven't moved to another part of the country or world and I have certain expectations about what spring will bring here in California. So what? Is there nothing left to count on?

What I can count on? Not so much, maybe--except that I've always gone back to one thing and it's always been there for me. Art. Or maybe I should say my relationship to art. Even if I'm not making art, I need it around me. Pictures satisfy me. Disturb me, yes, and they should. Inspire me, sometimes. When I look at certain drawings or paintings--and I mean really look at them and see them--it's like my soul exhales. Mostly it's powerful color combinations and interactions that do this, but here's a B&W picture by T.H.Benton that does it as well--both because of subject matter and composition. Sometimes when I look at his work I notice my body swaying with the movement of his lines. Pretty cool thing.

So there's a constant.

Another constant is the way I feel when I go into the woods to visit old crone redwoods. Pogonip in Santa Cruz . I suggest you try it sometime. There's a good path that takes you through redwoods, across a meadow and past an old polo ground. Not for bikes--only boots. And a walking stick if you're like me and your knees need a little support down the hills.

Or you can find your epicenter at Nicene Marks. Some places are for bikes and others are for boots. Who knows--a trip there might help if you have constancy issues. Maybe it'll feel okay that things aren't supposed to be constant.

This CAN'T Be It . . .

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 00:49:00 +0000

I want to believe I live in an America that will not let the disease of a McPalin presidency spread. That the stunningly inane George W. Bush got into the White House in the first place was hard enough to swallow. That we ended up with John Kerry trying to displace him was another blow (sorry Senator Kerry--I voted for you but I didn't think you were the strongest candidate to go up against the Republican machine)--almost as big a blow as the resulting 4 more years. Even the idea that there are Americans that would choose McCain and Palin over two people who are as smart and compassionate as Barack Obama and Joe Biden is unthinkable. But I have seen and heard some of the people who will be voting for the McPalin ticket. Scary. Very scary.

I am afraid and ashamed of America for allowing the Bush administration to take over--no, not just take over but rape our government and spit on us by spending our tax money on a war devised to make the rich richer at the cost of our priceless and irreplaceable soldiers' lives and the lives of innocent civilians in Iraq. Pro-Life means nothing to the McPalins of the world--only on their terms. Our country, pushed into areas of the world we have no business being in, has become, well, I was going to say a bully, but that's way too light a word. Our country has become a cruel and insane serial murderer. If Obama doesn't win--we'll only spiral further down.
Vote Obama. This could be it.

Hiking, reading, making stuff

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 07:23:00 +0000

After two months of hiking 4-5 times a week this is the first week I spent without a day in the woods. Feels wrong. Very wrong. I guess the woods, especially the redwoods, have become kind of a sanctuary for me. With all the studying of Jeffers, Muir, the book I recently finished, Grayson, by Lynne Cox, and all the spiritual poetry I've been wading in (reading and writing), it's no wonder the woods are a sacred place for me. But I think nature has always has provided that for me. When I'm climbing up and down some mountain, I'm centered and can feel my breath. Trees don't care about time in the way that we do. They know what they're born to do and they do it without griping about it. I have a lot to learn from trees.

Speaking of centering . . . I'm rereading Centering by M.C. Richards. All the poetry I've been reading and writing and I'm signed up for a pottery workshop at the end of this month, the book really has a lot to say to me. Funny how that book keeps making reappearances since the first time I read it. I think that was in Gabriele Rico's class. I remember how my creativity was so fired up. I was drawing and writing and I didn't know I had to pick either one. And, well, I don't. I guess I'm seduced by two muses and that's just how it's going to be.

So tomorrow looks like I'll be breaking my hiking fast. A day off, coffee and a book in bed in the morning. And then I plan to be on "tree-time" maybe at Pogonip in Santa Cruz or Nicene Marks in Aptos. Maybe Villa Montalvo--all beautiful places.
Ciao

You GO Grrrl . . .Yay K!

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Sat, 27 Sep 2008 20:47:00 +0000

Well, the beautiful and talented Kate Evans' book For the May Queen has finally come out (as we all should). I suggest you all find a copy of this book and read it, especially if you were ever a teenager . . . . It truly is one of the most fun books I've read in a long time! Did I mention she's my partner? That doesn't make me biased . . . just particularly familiar with the book.

As for me, I'm still writing poems. Thanks to the people who responded to my last poem. There's nothing like getting direct feedback on a piece of art, written or visual, that you dare to put out into the world.

"Buckskin Horse" finds a home

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 18:26:00 +0000

Yeehaw!!

Yarroway Mountain Press has just released a beautiful anthology of horse poetry called Cadence of Hooves. They happen to have included one of my poems: "Buckskin Horse." I wrote the poem at a week-long poetry retreat in Marfa, Texas organized by the poet (and friend) Dawn Trook. I was lucky enough to work with both Scott Cairns and Brigit Pegeen Kelly. This particular poem came from Brigit's workshop, but Scott's workshop produced a poem called "Echo" that would later be reformed into a sonnet that won a Phelan award at San Jose State University.

I'm kinda' liking this poetry stuff!

. . .and counting

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Thu, 29 May 2008 05:24:00 +0000

Not that I'm counting . . . but there are 12 more school days until summer. I think the kids are as ready as I am to have this time off. School is rough, although for a lot of kids there's not a lot other than school. This occurs to me occasionally as I'm racing from my classroom to the parking lot and I notice the same kid sitting at a picnic table on school grounds, day after day. I think I was that kid some thirty-forty years ago. I used to hang out near the art room at my junior high, hoping Mrs. Wright would show up and let me in to draw--or really just to keep company with her. She was this beautiful hippy artist teacher (it was the early 70's) who lived in Redwood Estates, drove a green Volvo station wagon with dog claw scratches on the passenger side. She showed us a a pen and ink drawing of her two dogs she'd drawn from a photo and we were in awe of her skills.
Well, she turned me on to art, but more than anything, she took time to listen to my teen-age angst (and I mean a lot of time--a lot of angst), made me feel valuable, both as an artist and a person. She meant a lot--no, she means a lot to me. How can I, now an art teacher myself, not think of her often?
So--Marilyn Wright--wherever you may be (hopefully it is in a magnificent, creative space): I get it! And I hope there might be a student out there who respects me/remembers me the same one day.

4 months later

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 01:43:00 +0000

Okay--short and sweet. School is almost over for the year. Summer approaches as I (feel the need to) retreat. I have to say, being both a teacher and a student is engulfing, overwhelming . . . yet satisfying. I'm taking two grad classes in the MFA program at SJSU, both are poetry seminars, and both require large amounts of reading and writing. O the responsibility of deadlines! But I think I'm doing alright and after having taken some time off to deal with issues in my personal life, I'm making a steady comeback. Steady is not a bad thing and certainly more my style than splashy would be. Unfortunately, no self-portraits for now, but I intend to make more pictures this summer (until then, here's a picture of me and Kate at a reading she did recently in SF--we're in our matching leatherettes--oooohhweeee). I feel there may be a summer writing/illustrating project in the works. More about that later--hopefully before the end of summer. I have a feeling this blogging business will be easier while I'm reaping the benefits of teaching . . . time for art and writing!

Winter Break

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Sun, 23 Dec 2007 20:30:00 +0000

The best thing about winter . . . bare trees, clean air after a rain, mashing duff (a mix of flora decomp and packed dirt) under your boots on a hike, hot soup, mini mince pies with brandy butter, colored lights, and finally, the time away from the job--2 weeks if you're a high school teacher--to notice things like bare trees, duff, and colored lights.

Anyway, here is my latest picture. Not my latest to draw, but latest to make it onto the computer. I'm pretty lame when it comes to this technology thing. Okay, maybe not lame, but definitely lazy. Try not to notice the great gaps of time between posts--but hey, things happen.

Are you wondering if I actually have fiery red hair these days?

One of the great things about art is the recreation involved in the creation. I get to make images the way they could be if only (--fill in the blank with any alternate experience--). We can be as free as we imagine, at least within the products of our imagination. Then the phrase "I can only imagine" takes on new meaning and value. Image+imagination. Imagine that.

a small yet significant collection of faces . . .

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 00:29:00 +0000

. . . I shall be creating and attempting to record on this blog. The drawing technique is modified contour. The rules for this type of drawing are: never look at your hand as it draws, but only at the subject. If you get lost or want to check on your progress, stop drawing and look, find your place or move to another place on the paper, but look back at the subject before resuming the drawing. If you need to lift your drawing instrument, replace it on a line you've already drawn so as to keep the appearance of a continual line.

I don't know why these are the rules, they just are and I like them.

After the line drawing is complete, color your picture with color pencil in layers. At this point you should look at your paper when you draw. Berol Prismacolors are creamy and lay down smooth. Try them and your drawings will be molto bene.

Draw anything you like, your face, your friends' faces, even your feet, especially if they are very wrinkly. You might soak your feet first to get an ample supply of wrinkleage . Wrinkles and folds are an artist's friends. They respond well in controlled lighting conditions and provide opportunity to practice shading. As far as models go, the older and fatter the better, I always say. Not always.

I believe these drawings are best done in a sketchbook while sipping cappucinos at Peet's--especially the Peet's on The Alameda. If it's too busy there, Peet's on Lincoln is a good substitute. Take a friend as a model. You should buy them a cappucino too, although it might make them a bit figditty. Perhaps a decaf, but what's the point?
Try putting a bit of honey in your cappucino. It's heavier than sugar and drops below the foam layer into the coffee below; it'll feel better in your mouth.

school-start is just over a week away . . .

noreply@blogger.com (ANNIE) — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 04:07:00 +0000

Whoa!

And what the hell happened to the summer? For teachers, this is a time to recover from the challenges of the the previous school year, to regenerate, to recharge, all that. I'm sure there's been some bizarre mistake, some awful tripping over a wrinkle in time from June to August. Did July even happen? I didn't see a single firework on the 4th (we live in the city and aren't supposed to see them), so I'm not convinced it's actually passed yet. And if I could check my battery the way I check the one on this laptop, I know it would tell me there's a plug unplugged, I'm running on 8% power, and I better switch to a power source because I'm about to shut down and lose all my data.

But summer is almost over and my brain is already switching over to high school art teacher mode. What changes will I make to the assignments, to my teaching methods, to the way I relate to the administration? I'm not worried how I relate to the kids. I think I was born with a gene that makes me automatically care about the kids. I'm always optimystic (odd spelling intentional. It's good to make up words when you need them). But administrators and teachers often experience and move through the world differently. At least it seems that way when I try to compare--which may be a bad idea anyway.

You know, the apples and oranges thing.

We teachers, if we care about what we're doing, are constantly figuring new ways to "get the kids", and by that I mean understand and reach them, as well as snag them into wanting to learn from us and be in our classroom, and be happy their counselors put them there even though they didn't sign up for us.I'm a high school art teacher who teaches drawing and painting to beginning artists as well as more advanced artists (between the ages of 13 and 18). I used to really resist the idea that I could be a high school teacher for life. The first few years I promised myself and everyone near me that "this year is my last year of teaching, I swear to god!" Then summer would happen and I'd relax and somehow convince myself that I should try maybe just one more year. I mean (I'd rationalize), "I spent all that time and money on credentials and all" Somehow I've made it to my 10th year and I've noticed that for the last couple of years I've been making the promise to quit less and less often.

And it's for one reason.

Young people amaze me. And they kick my butt. They are thinking, creative people with phenomenal energy and good will. They make me think, they make me laugh, they make me be creative. I suppose there are other jobs that could do that for me (and plenty that wouldn't), but the fates have given me this one. I'm a lucky woman. Mostly.

Still, with all that said, there is also a lot to say about the educational system and American society as a whole. Right now I guess I'll say a little and later, a lot more.

When I walk into my classroom on August 20th, I walk into the beginning of a year filled with joy and learning, yes, but it's a year guaranteed to be filled with difficult situations, students who don't trust the world (especially the adults in it), students who will bug the shit out of me, and who I will bug the shit out of. I'll meet students who check out of school because they don't "fit in", some who spend most of their time high or escaping into video games, who believe school is "gay" and will be shocked (or not) when they find out that I am. That will no doubt be fodder for this blog later, as the issue comes up (and out!) every year. There will be students who I will be successful with and students who I will be unsuccessful with. But I may never know which are which (I try not to pretend I do). My high school teachers most likely had no idea if they were successful with me or not--oh, but that's another story for later. Some students will be surprised when they find out the "easy art class" they signed up for requires them to read and write and think about art, along with actually learning to draw, and they will push against it. And I'll let them lean on me a little, then give them a gentle, yet firm, nudge, because I want them to know what art can do.

It's an optimystical thing. Making art is an optimistic act. Which writer was it that said that about writing?

So, my hope for this blog is to share some of my teaching year with you all.

Each year teaching changes me a bit more, some years more than others, and I hope I can relate some of the process that occurs this year. High school teaching can be creatively draining, so I'll give this my best effort--which I actually have worked into my grading criteria because in art class anyway, effort counts.

Cheers