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7 PLANET OF THE ARTS vol.4no0.2

Before I came to this College, I decided I had
a lot to learn about art, and I wanted to go some-
where that would teach me. I’d been in school
before, and knew institutions often seemed unre-
sponsive to their students. Still, art, I thought, was
different, and maybe an Art College would be an
improvement on University or Technical School. I
came to ECCAD with low expectations and high
hopes.

Sad to say, many times my expectations have
been fulfilled. Surprisingly, so have my hopes.

I'd expected that the administration would be
friendly but basically preoccupied with their own
concerns. That’s what I’ve found.

Td hoped that the course load would be loose
enough to allow me to express myself in my own
way. I’ve found that too.

I was surprised and pleased at the pleasant
atmosphere of the College, both in terms of space
and people.

I’ve been surprised and displeased at the level
of teaching. In particular, I’ve been shocked at the
level of technical instruction at the College. There
seems to be an idea that instruction in the techni-
cal details of an art inhibits an artist’s creativity.
I’d always assumed that creativity grew from
mastery of a medium and that mastery of a me-
dium meant mastery of the technologies underlying
the medium. From the level of instruction I’ve seen
in technical matters it seems the College thinks
creativity comes from floundering around in a
medium one can barely control (which produces un-
predictable, unique, but to me, uncreative results.)

It’s long been a thesis of mine that our
College would be better named “The Emily Carr
Supported Studio for Young Artists”. What we get
here is gentle guidance as artists rather than a
solid course of instruction. I've been amazed that
no-one among faculty, staff or students seemed to
object to my redefinition of the College. I’m happy
to say I recently talked to a man who disagreed
with me strongly.

That man was Terry Johnson, our Associate
Dean of the Studio Division. Terry said many of
the teachers (and he listed ten or so off the top of
his head) would strongly object; that they tried
hard daily to instruct students in the intricacies of
being artists. He also thought that it is very
difficult for a teacher to know the correct approach,
one that had the proper balance of technology and
learning.

Terry described his own experience, graduat-
ing from an academic type of art school in the early
sixties only to go to New York to discover abstract
expressionism for the first time! (His art college
had not even acknowledged the existence of the
dominant art movement of the previous fifteen
years.) Many teachers of his generation vowed
never to allow their instruction to lose sight of the
main trends in art.

These teachers taught the next generation of
art students; instruction in drawing, painting and
modelling techniques were thrown out the window.
Many of our younger teachers come from this
generation of students - they had to learn the skills
of their art after they got out of school.

The point Terry was trying to make, I think,
is there is no fixed idea as to the best way to
instruct art students. The whole field is in flux, full
of conflicting ideas and contending personalities.
He did say that there has been a definite move in
the College over the past few years to increase the
formal instruction given. Both the Foundation and
Painting departments have recently had changes
made to their programs. One of Terry’s responses
to my criticism was to suggest maybe it was time
my department had its program re-evaluated. His
implication was that perhaps my criticism has to do
with my particular instructors and department and
not necessarily with the whole College.

COLUMN AS| SEE EM

So let me end with a question for you: Do you
think that you are being adequately instructed in
the areas of art that you have chosen to pursue?

Please let me know what you think. Leave
short responses in the black submissions box
outside the Planet office, complete with your name
and a way that I can reach you. I will talk to as
many of you as I can about this, and report later
what I find out.

Martin Hunt

I was sitting in my apartment a few weeks
ago, noticing all the junk I had collected throughout
my three years in Vancouver. Books I had read
way back in high school and university. Clothes I
wouldn’t dare wear. Paper, pencils, stuffed ani-
mals, shoes, rubber things, socks, paper clips,
peanuts, wood. I decided that I had to do a major
purge or else hire three Allied transport trucks to
move me out of my bachelor apartment.

I began with clothes. I tried to throw away
one shirt, sweaters, a pair of pants, anything.
Nothing would leave my wretched hands, except
one pair of underwear which had been washed so
many times they were practically see-through.
Giving up on clothes for the moment, I decided to
move into the book section. Unfortunately, the only
book I could part with was My Story-The Mike
Douglas Autobiography.

There was something way too tough about
this transition to minimal living. However, action
had to be taken. It was all too easy to envision my
apartment becoming like those of the older people
in the building, with dark mole-like tunnels
burrowed through the profusion of knick-knacks
and mountainous memorabilia. Being claustropho-
bic, the intensity of this image was too much to
bear. I freaked and began re-enacting the famous
“Zen” house-cleaning scene from the movie Betty
Blue. Out my tenth-story window went all my
clothes, except for what I was wearing. All my
books went, except for Elvis is Back in Black- A
History of Black Velvet Paintings. Furniture,
carpets, fixtures, any sort of embellishment, all
were ejected. In my frenzy, I even scrubbed the
walls with steel wool. Then I tossed the steel wool.

After some hours of this, I breathed a sigh of
relief. Looking down to the street, I watched all the
old crones dragging my former possessions into
their apartments. How very like the origins of
North America, I mused. Settlers arrived with
nothing, having left it all behind in whatever “old
country” they had abandoned. The ultimate purge.
By extension I, too, was a pioneer!

Nightfall came. I slept in a cold, curtainless,
rugless room on the bare floor. My teeth were
chattering so hard I thought they were going to
break. The next day I found my Visa card hidden
in the Elvis book. Completely out of control, I
shopped to the card’s limit. Now, I am very content
in my magnificently furnished tunnel- cn nee
apartment.

Jerry Stochansky

aR See

Ei PLANET OF THE ARTS vol.4no0.2

Before I came to this College, I decided I had
‘lotto learn about art, and I wanted to go some-
‘where that would teach me. Td been in school
before, and knew institutions often seemed unre-
sponsive to their students. Still, art, Ithought, was
different, and maybe an Art College would be an
improvement on University or Technical School. 1
‘came to ECCAD with low expectations and high
hopes.

Sad to say, many times my expectations have
been fulfilled. Surprisingly, so have my hopes.

Td expected that the administration would be
friendly bat basically preoccupied with their own
‘concerns. That's what I've found.

Td hoped that the course load would be loose
‘enough to allow me to express myself in my own
way. Tve found that too,

was surprised and pleased at the pleasant
‘atmosphere of the College, both in terms of space
and people.

Te beon surprised and displeased at the level
of teaching. In particular, Te been shocked at the
level of technical instruction at the College. ‘There
‘seems to be an idea that instruction in the techni-
cal details of an art inkibits an artists creativity.
Ta always assumed that creativity grew from
mastery of a medium and that mastery of ame-
dium meant mastery of the technologies underlying
the medium, From the level of instruction I've seen
in technical matters it seems the College thinks
creativity comes from floundering around in a
‘medium one can barely eontrol (which produces un-
predictable, unique, but to me, unereative results.)

It’s long been a thesis of mine that our
College would be better named “The Emily Carr
Supported Studio for Young Artists’. What we got
here is gentle guidance as artists rather than a
solid course of instruction. T've been amazed that
no-one among faculty, staff or students seemed to
object to my redefinition ofthe College. Tm happy
to say Irecently talked to a man who disagreed
‘with me strongly.

‘Tat man was Terry Johnson, our Associate
Dean of the Studio Division. Terry said many of
the teachers (and he listed ten or so off the top of
hhis head) would strongly object; that they tried
hhard daily to instruct students in the intricacies of
being artists. He also thought that itis very
Aifficul for a teacher to know the correct approach,
one that had the proper balance of technology and
Tearing.

‘Terry described his own experience, graduat-
{ng from an academic type of art school in the early
sixties only to go to New York to discover abstract
expressionism for the first time! (His art college
hhad not even acknowledged the existence of the
dominant art movement of the previous fifteen
years.) Many teachers of his generation vowed
never to allow their instruction to lose sight of the
‘main trends in art.

‘These teachers taught the next generation of
art students; instruetion in drawing, painting and
‘modelling techniques were thrown out the window.
‘Many of our younger teachers come from this
generation of students - they had to learn the skills
of their art after they got out of school.

‘The point Terry was trying to make, I think,
{s there is no fixed idea as to the best way to
instruct art students, The whole field isin flux, full
of conflicting ideas and contending personalities.
He did say that there has been a definite move in
the College over the past few years to increase the
formal instruction given. Both the Foundation and
Painting departments have recently had changes
made to their programs. One of Terry’s responses
tomy criticism was to suggest maybe it was time
my department had its program re-evaluated. His
‘implication was that perhaps my criticism has to do
with my particular instructors and department and
‘not necessarily with the whole College.

Wy COLUMN AS! SEE'EM

So let me end with a question for you: Do you
think that-you are being adequately instructed in
the areas of art that you have chosen to pursue?

Please let me know what you think. Leave
short responses in the black submissions box
outside the Planet office, complete with your name
‘and a way that Ican reach you. Iwill talk toas
‘many of you as Ican about this, and report later
what I find out.

Martin Hunt

Ax: Sut Ol Rat

TOR

Iwas sitting in my apartment a few weeks
ago, noticing all the junk Ihad collected throughout
my three years in Vancouver. Books Ihad read
way back in high school and university. Clothes I
wouldn't dare wear. Paper, pencils, stuffed ani-
‘mals, shoes, rubber things, socks, paper clips,
peanuts, wood. I decided that I had to do a major
purge or else hire three Allied transport trucks to
‘move me out of my bachelor apartment.

Tegan with clothes. I tried to throw away
one shirt, sweaters, a pair of pants, anything.
Nothing would leave my wretched hands, except
‘one pair of underwear which had been washed so
‘many times they were practically see-through.
Giving up on clothes for the moment, I decided to
move into the book section. Unfortunately, the only
book T could part with was My Story-The Mike
Douglas Autobiography.

‘There was something way too tough about
this transition to minimal living. However, action
hhad to be taken. It was all too easy to envision my
apartment becoming like those ofthe older people
in the building, with dark mole-like tunnels,
burrowed through the profusion of knick-knacks
‘and mountainous memorabilia. Being claustropho-
Dic, the intensity ofthis image was too much to
Dear. I freaked and began re-enacting the famous
“Zan” house cleaning scene from the movie Betty
Blue. Out my tenth-story window went all my
clothes, except for what I was wearing. All my
books went, except for Elvis is Back in Black-A
History of Black Velvet Paintings. Furniture,
carpets, fixtures, any sort of embellishment, all
‘were ejected. In my frenzy, Teven scrubbed the
‘walls with steel wool. Then I tossed the steel wool.

After some hours of this, [breathed a sigh of
relief. Looking down to the street, I watched all the
‘old erones dragging my former possessions into
their apartments. How very like the origins of
North America, I mused. Settlers arrived with
nothing, having left it all behind in whatever “old
country" they had abandoned. The ultimate purge.
By extansion I, too, was a pioneer!

‘Nightfall came. Islept in acold, curtainless,
rrugless room on the bare floor. My teeth were
chattering so hard I thought they were going to
break. The next day I found my Visa card hidden

in the Elvis book. Completely out of control, I
shopped to the card’s limit. Now, Iam very content
in my magnificently furnished tunnel-oriented
apartment.

Jerry Stochansky