Dear class
I hope you had a wonderful New Years Eve and the first week of 2017.
I suggest you go out for a walk. I love walking around the Prospect Park in the winter.
Central Park is nice too, especially in a snowy day.
"An active line on a walk, moving freely, without goal. A walk for a walk's sake. The mobility agent, is a point, shifting its position forward.
–From Paul Klee, Pedagogical Sketchbook, 1925. Book & introduction in Tate Blog
I suggest you write a poem.
“I have only apparently strayed from computers to poetry. Or rather: the opposition many people see between computers and poetry is quite profoundly false. In fact my present thesis would not suffer much from being re-stated as: the embodiment of mathematics in properly designed computers is the most powerful means we have for giving it poetical, cultural and personal-human dimensions which are a necessary condition for it to be accepted and absorbed in a natural and easy way by billions of children. So I shall turn back to computers and mention some of the ways in which they can play this poetogenic role.
How can we establish a link between mathematics and beauty? For those of us who become (through who knows what lucky accidents) mathematicians this bridge has become strong enough for us to see the deepest beauty in abstract mathematics itself. But if we are not to rely on accidents we need the means to link mathematics with aspects of beauty which already touch the aesthetic sensibilities of the non-mathematician.” –From Seymour Papert, Some Poetic and Social Criteria for Education Design, 1976. Essay
If you are up for an adventure, hike up to Inwood Hill Park.
I suggest you learn a magic trick.
"Over the course of the term, I thought often of Ursula K. Le Guin’s novel A Wizard of Earthsea. Ged, the titular wizard, goes to study with Ogion, a magician who seems more like a Zen monk. Ogion refuses to cast spells. When it rains, they sit in the rain. When they are hungry, Ogion and Ged forage for food. They wander like tramps, picking herbs. Ged, impatient with this humility, sneaks a glance at Ogion’s spell books and performs a summoning ritual. Things get way out of control, and Ged gets one glimpse of Ogion actually performing magic with a glowing staff (the simple walking stick of the herb-gathering tours), fending off the demon Ged summoned.
Ged leaves Ogion, and travels to a magic school (uncannily prescient of Hogwarts), and there learns illusions, epic poems, the language of dragons, and all the other trappings of wizardry. It’s not until the fourth Earthsea volume that Ogion finds a keeper of a student, Tehanu. During Tehanu’s tutelage, pretty much nothing happens. The two chat, tell stories, and generally meander about. At one point a dragon does show up, and, after a brief conversation, flies off.
This, of course, is the model of our contemporary art program. We sit around the table, talking about this and that, the uses of herbs and hearsay anecdotes. For passing dragon read “visiting artist,” who flits through and perhaps issues a scorching critique. As a teacher, I want to be Ogion of the first Earthseabook. The students, called by their talent, are impatient to learn and practice the secrets of Art. But why not refuse to teach the big spells, the big effects, or task them with any quest at all? They should understand the materials at hand, the basic flow of life. Figure out what it is right to do next, especially if you’ve done something right before. " –From, Draw it with your eyes closed. Art of the Assignment, 2012. – Dan Torop, A wizard of earthsea
Warmly, Taeyoon