Teachers, Mentors and Guides Pt.2

I’m always astonished when artists describe parts of their formal training with exasperation and dismay. Details of people sitting on the floor of hall corridors, smoking cigarettes while they wait for instructors who repeatedly fail to arrive. Cursory assignments with vague objectives. Unstructured sessions with rambling, incoherent but well-known artists. Art college was a heightened, rich and expansive experience for me. In spite of the informal atmosphere, all the instructors were present in the necessary capacity. Perhaps the college location outside of Toronto had something to do with it, but I never once had the impression that these people took their jobs for granted the way I’ve heard other artists from different schools voice their dissatisfaction. What I did notice was that the clearly defined role of art teacher from high school shifted towards mentorship. Arguably, the difference between teacher and mentor is that the relationship a student has with those who know more and have greater experience, is now closer to collaboration rather than hierarchy. Since we all stand on the shoulders of those who came before us, I am grateful to those artists who shared not only their information, skills and techniques, but served as role models as well. They allowed me to choose what I wanted to retain, what I wanted to pursue and further develop, and even what I wanted to leave behind which was also valuable learning. The three things I learned most from art school, and the instructors involved, concerned a) the discovery of the soul b) how talent will only go so far and c) the need for discernment.   
I was 19yrs.old when Marion McGill, my drawing instructor, told me I had a soul. Up till then, the thought of owning one was non-existent, let alone important to being an artist. In retrospect, I’m glad my first introduction to, and subsequent explorations of the soul, occurred in a creative, artistic discipline instead of a spiritual or religious context. Even when it’s hard to define what exactly is the soul, most artists recognize when it is evident or feeble in works of art including their own. For me, soul energy is revealed by the response given to both the light and dark materials inherent to the human condition. Marion taught drawing with an organic, sensuous awareness of line, shape and gesture. She would hold an imaginary conté crayon and say: “Feel the curve of the shoulder, touch down the arm,” as she tenderly traced outlines in the air, of the model posing in front of us on a dais. This intuitive approach infused vitality into the work of many students who had otherwise been artists primarily from the neck up. As liberating as this was for most of us, not everyone was comfortable in her class. “I don’t like the sexy way you talk about drawing,” complained one student. “It’s not nice...” With remarkable decorum, Marion’s response was: “If you can only draw the human figure by thinking about it in terms of mathematical lines, angles and shapes– you go right ahead.” I still keep some of those drawings completed in Marion’s classes. Whenever my own work becomes stilted or rote, they serve as a reminder of how much freedom and joy I felt, immersed in the creative process.
If Marion facilitated soul emergence, Krysta Jakob challenged us to develop qualities needed to take care of it. The problem with a demanding, intimidating mentor is that some young artists are genuinely unable to value what they’ve learned until a certain degree of emotional maturity and life experience has been reached. Krysta had high standards, did not suffer fools gladly and threatened to make or break us. I was terrified of her. However, because of her influence, I gained systematic work habits that to this day, help me to survive the many obstacles artists endure including rejection, discouragement, frustration and failure. Talent alone isn’t always everything. Hard work, commitment, and determination allow many artists to go further with what they have than others– who may possess more natural talent, but take their gifts for granted or else squander their birthright. By motivating students towards a sustainable work ethic, Krysta revealed that we could also exceed beyond our own limits and expectations– even if she had to scare some of us to do so.
Art college also provided the first type of mentorship I resisted although I didn’t realize it at the time. In all fairness, not everyone responded to this instructor the same way. Some did appreciate his professional experience, his humour, as well as what they perceived as a philosophical, spiritual outlook. My classmates were baffled as to why I wasn’t more enthusiastic about this rather charming, affable instructor who seemed eager to help and be of service. “Why do I always feel so awkward around you?!! Is there anything wrong?” he repeatedly asked. For the three years I was in art school, he would seek me out to pose these questions. He approached me in the halls, came over to my drafting table, and one time, even broached the topic when he noticed a group of us in the cafeteria and joined us for lunch. I must emphasize– he never crossed whatever line would deem such behaviour inappropriate– at least not with me– although I would still classify this as unwanted attention. What I sensed from him– but didn’t know how to articulate then– was a need, bordering on desperation, to have a protégée who would ultimately credit him for their success when they excelled in the world. At first, I was confused and for a while, guilt-ridden. I didn’t know what to say or do and honestly thought my reserved, hesitant manner was at fault and needed to  change so he could feel more comfortable around me. Should I try to be nicer? What would that involve? Smiling more? An effort to show greater appreciation for his classes? It never occurred to a street-dumb girl that someone who kept asking her these questions probably needed to talk to somebody else about them. No one in our graduating class became one of his stars. However, I do believe that all my instructors wanted us to do well. Some just took it a little too personally when we didn’t.  Oddly enough, I am just as thankful to this artist as I am to Marion and Krysta.  I  developed an ability to take care of myself, an independence I wouldn’t have known without knowing him.