Poem: "The Hope and Freedom You Exude"
Apr. 7th, 2024 05:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem is spillover from the April 2, 2024 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired and sponsored by fuzzyred. It also fills the "Give me a slice of the bananas and sausage, will ya?" square in my 4-1-24 card for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Bingo fest. This poem belongs to the Shiv thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.
Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics. Among these is an abusive art teacher, which is a very common experience that lots of people find upsetting. Highlight to read the more detailed warnings. It includes reference to the aftermath of a severe earthquake, frazzled nerves, the inside of Shiv's head is always a warning, anxiety with nervous mannerisms, teacher arriving late, substitute art teacher, control freak, refugees, students who have struggled in school, harsh criticism, crying student, rude language, walking out of class, past limb loss, examples of past abuse, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.
"The Hope and Freedom You Exude"
[Thursday, June 16, 2026]
Shiv headed to an art class at
the University of Nebraska-Omaha.
The Big One had left him feeling
frazzled, and he had a ton of
things to do, but he defended
his art time with great vigor.
He needed it to relax, and
nobody wanted a supervillain
getting down to his last nerve.
This class was mixed media on
blending colors for things like sky,
water, skin tones, and flowers.
Shiv had already taken a liking
to the Mixed Media Classroom
and felt glad that today's session
was there, because it had all kinds
of tables and chairs and easels so
you could work how you wanted.
One whole wall was all shelves
stuffed with paints, canvas, paper,
pens, pencils, fibercraft scraps, glue,
scissors, and other art supplies.
Shiv grabbed a table and one of
the fun spinny stools that you could
kick the floor and do circles on.
Idly he pushed himself back and
forth as the other students came in.
He spotted a couple of other guys --
one of them pretty old -- a couple
of women, and then a jumble of
folks that Shiv couldn't really track.
The youngest of the women sat down
at Shiv's table, more of a girl if he was
being honest, his size but curvier.
She looked around anxiously,
started gnawing on her thumbnail,
then tucked her hands underneath
her thighs so she'd remember not to.
Shiv used the same trick to keep
his own hands out of trouble.
The art teacher showed up
five minutes late, and Shiv
frowned, because this was
a guy and he was pretty sure
the flyer listed a lady teacher --
Millie something-or-other, yeah.
Well, whatever. All the dude
had to do was mix paint and
talk, which wasn't all that hard.
"I'm Professor Otto Aschenborn,"
he said, writing it on a whiteboard.
"As you can see, the assigned teacher
is absent today, so I'm stepping up. Go
around the room and say your name
with a detail about why you're here."
Shiv began to get a sinking sensation
as it reminded him of grade school
where the teachers just wanted
to control everything all the time.
First up was a petite woman wearing
a floppy beige tunic over blue jeans.
"I'm Barbra Armstead," she said. "I'm
a stay-at-home mom, my son Keith
just turned six months old and started
sleeping through the night. So I want
to get out and do some grownup stuff."
Next came a much older man in
a plaid shirt and thick black glasses.
"I am Nikos Stefanidis," he said. "I'm
a retired shopkeeper. My oldest son Nick
is a modern artist. I thought that I would
learn art to see what all of the fuss is
about, and so I could try sketching
en plein air around the Omaha area."
Nervously Shiv smoothed a hand
down the front of his white T-shirt.
It had a cat with a palette saying,
I paint so I don't choke people.
Save a life: send oil paints.
"Uh, I'm Shiv," he said. "I'm
a local artist and I work at
a jazz joint. Basically I'm
just taking classes for kicks."
Beside him, the girl wearing
the olive drab T-shirt was
nibbling her lip and picking at
a friendship bracelet on one wrist.
"My name is Nada Faraguna,"
she said with a bit of accent.
"My family moved here from
Croatia when I was younger. I
study art and writing so that I can
show the refugee experience."
Shiv knew plenty of refugees,
and not just from the Big One --
there was Zipper, and a bunch
of folks up in Rutledge, and so on.
At the next table over there was
a Hispanic teen with a gray headrag
covering his hair and tattoos peeking
out from under his paint-spattered shirt.
"I'm Danilo Cardenas," he said. "I suck
at school, just scraped by my junior year
of high school. My dad offered to buy
me a used car if I take summer classes.
I really want that car, so here I am."
There were more introductions after
that, but they were farther away, and
Shiv didn't care much about people
anyhow, so he just tuned them out.
Eventually, Professor Aschenborn
went over to the supply shelves and
brought out a tray for each student
that held brushes, paints, and pastels.
Then he added a stack of art papers
with different tints and textures.
"I'll do a brief demonstration with
each medium and range of colors
to start. Watch and learn," he said.
"Then I'll go back and illustrate in
more detail while you follow along."
At least the first demo looked interesting.
Professor Aschenborn started with oils
and used a big palette knife to mix them
before making a grid of skin tones.
He did the flower colors in acrylics,
then the sky and ocean in watercolors.
The guy might be a bit of a dick, but
Shiv had to admit that his gradient
of watercolor blues was silky-smooth.
"All right, everyone, let's focus on
the diversity special," said the teacher.
"You can buy sets of paint or pastels in
a politically correct range of colors, but
they look more alive if you mix your own."
Shiv frowned as he glanced sidelong
at the other students to see how well
they were handling it. Nada seemed
nervous. Danilo just looked pissed off.
It was time for the practical stuff,
though, so Shiv picked a sheet
of eggshell paper and got started.
He found it fairly easy to make
a grid of skin tones, and the tray
had a different brand of paint
than what he usually used,
so that was fun to explore.
Then Professor Aschenborn
started going around to critique
the work that they were doing.
Barbra looked unhappy at
whatever he said to her.
Shiv still couldn't hear when
the teacher got to Nikos, but
the older man drawled, "Son,
I have actually been all around
the Mediterranean and I know
what people look like there."
It made Barbra burst into giggles.
Scowling, Professor Aschenborn
stalked over to Shiv's table.
"Half that page is mud,"
the teacher said, pointing.
"Well duh," said Shiv. "I'm
experimenting with matches
based on color temperature."
"If this were a real art class, you'd
fail it," Professor Aschenborn said.
Even though it was supposed to be
just for fun, the words sent a trickle
of sweat down Shiv's back. He had
gotten into trouble often enough
growing up for poor performance.
Then Professor Aschenborn moved
on to Nada. "Seeing as how you're
from Europe, I expected better."
She cringed away from him,
and he loomed right over her.
Shiv reached a hand between
them to block the motion.
"Don't touch her," he said
in his bouncer voice.
Professor Aschenborn
narrowed his eyes but
didn't say anything.
He simply shifted
his attention over
to Danilo's work.
Instead of arguing
with the professor,
Danilo just produced
a loud sucking sound
with his teeth and tongue.
Shiv was kind of impressed
by how annoying that was.
Professor Aschenborn went
back to the front desk and
worked up the flower grids.
They really were pretty,
especially the watercolors.
Nada was biting her nails again
as she leaned over her tray,
picking out paints to blend.
Danilo had propped up
his page so that the paints
would run down it, clearly
a trick learned from graffiti.
Barbra seemed to be working
on a set of nursery colors that
blended blue to lavender to pink.
Shiv quickly became fascinated
with trying to mix shades of pink
and purple that he'd seen before,
nudging the colors warmer or cooler,
adding, diluting, and just playing.
He was working on the kind of
mobster pink that was actually
more of an orchid color when
Professor Aschenborn butted in.
"You'll never get anywhere if you
can't follow directions," he said.
"That one's not even on the grid."
Shiv's retort got caught in his teeth,
because he'd spent way too much time
with people calling him "defiant" just
for sticking up for himself in school.
Professor Aschenborn stalked over
and laid into Nada next. "This page
looks like wrapping paper," he said.
"You're not even trying to get it right."
Nada started to sniffle, desperately
trying to hide her tears and failing.
"What, now you're going to cry?"
the teacher sneered. "If you can't
take a little critique, then you'll never
make it as an artist. The critics are
far more brutal than simple honesty."
Then he glanced back at Shiv and
added slyly, "Though it looks like
you have plenty of company."
"Screw this, I'm out of here,"
Shiv snapped, standing up.
Then he beckoned to Nada.
"Come with me," he said.
"Nobody has a right to pick
on you or make you cry."
Nada wiped her face with
her hand and then stood up.
Shiv slapped a black-ball card
on the art table as he left.
To his surprise, a bunch
of the other students bailed
out of the class with him.
"You uh, didn't all have
to leave on my account,"
Shiv said. "I just don't have
much patience with bullshit."
"If I'd spent another minute
in there, I'd have punched
the fucker," said Danilo.
"Well, I wanted to enjoy
a grownup activity,"
Barbra said tartly.
"He's far from that,"
Nikos said with a nod.
"Is anyone else hungry?"
said Danilo. "I know of
a pizza place near here."
"I'll buy a pie," Shiv said,
already mulling what to get.
"I'll get one too," said Nikos.
"I'm happy to share it around."
So they walked to Pizza World,
a cozy little restaurant that had
a huge chalkboard of ingredients
on one wall and another chalkboard
of suggested pizza styles across from it.
Shiv was really impressed by the chalk art,
since he made the chalkboard menus at
Blues Moon so they could change what
was available. This artist was just terrific.
There were booths under the pizza menu
and tables under the ingredient menu.
The owner was missing his left leg
and getting around with crutches.
"It's a new place," Danilo explained.
"Mr. Minagro lost his old place in
California and recently moved here."
"Yeah, there's a lot of new stuff after
the Big One," said Shiv. "What's good?"
"Everything I've tried has tasted great,"
said Danilo. "I'm getting Jamaican Jazz.
It has jerk sauce with sausage and plantains,
or bananas if they can't find any plantains."
"I don't want anything too hot and spicy,"
said Barbra. "My hormones are still in
a jumble, so I'm trying to go easy on food."
"Sicilian," Nada said, pointing at the menu.
"It's just sauce and parmesan cheese."
"That works for me," Barbra said.
"We can split one if you want."
"I'll get pepperoni," said Nikos.
"That's between spicy and mild,
and almost everybody likes it."
So they got three medium pizzas
and pushed a couple of tables
together so they could all sit.
Shiv started with pepperoni
while the women had Sicilian.
It tasted good, but familiar,
so he eyed the other options.
Danilo was stuffing himself
with the one he'd ordered.
"Hey, give me a slice of
the bananas and sausage,
will ya?" Shiv asked him.
Danilo pulled free a slice
and passed it to him.
The jerk sauce and
sausage were hot enough
that Mallory would love this,
but the sweet fried bananas
buffered the heat some.
Shiv decided that he liked it
and took a second slice.
He was definitely going
to recommend this place
to some of his friends,
especially the teleporters
who were always hungry.
Nada seemed quite happy
with the Sicilian pizza.
"This is really good,"
she said, looking at
Danilo. "Thanks for
bringing us all here."
"No problem," he said.
"What's your name again?
I missed hearing it earlier."
"Nada," she said. "I'm glad
to meet new people today."
"Your name means nothing?"
Danilo said. "That's weird."
"It's Croatian, and it means
'peace' there," Nada explained.
"It still means 'nothing' in
Spanish," Danilo said.
"Everyone knows that."
"Hey," Shiv said.
"Don't be a dick."
"But it does,"
Danilo protested.
"Yeah, in Spanish,
but she ain't Spanish,"
said Shiv. "If she says
it means 'peace' in ..." It
had sounded like 'crotch'
but he wasn't about to say
that. "... her language,
then that's what it means."
"In Crotch," said Danilo.
Shiv dragged a hand
down his face and
looked at Nada.
"He's just a kid,"
Shiv said. "Don't
take it personal."
Nada shrugged. "It's
not like I'll ever fit in."
"Hey now, don't let
Professor Ass-born
get to you," Shiv said.
"It's hard not to when he's
the teacher," Nada said.
"Maybe I'm not really
cut out for art school."
"Bullshit," said Shiv. "He's
just a dried-up old has-been.
You have to keep that in mind
when facing criticism, because
some people envy the hope and
freedom you exude as an artist."
Barbra nodded vigorously. "I think
that you should stick with your goal of
painting the refugee experience, Nada,"
she said. "People need to see that,
and it's not something just anyone
could do, based on their own life."
"Swing by Hanson Hall some time,
we have lots of art classes and
the teachers aren't assholes,"
Shiv said. "Or if there are any
there, I haven't run into them yet."
"I may do that, if I have time between
my college obligations," said Nada.
"College is good, but art school can be
a writhing snake pit of envy," said Nikos.
"I know about this because my son Nick
ran into some nasty teachers, and he
would tell such stories about them."
"For me it was grade school," said Shiv.
"Teachers hated everything I did, so it got
to where I made shit just to mess with them.
Got me arrested a few times, but it turns out,
I'm not that easy to scare away from art."
He had his play-putty in hand, using it
as a fidget to soothe his frazzled nerves
without really thinking about the context.
"That's good," said Nikos. "You shouldn't
have to give up something you enjoy doing
just because some people are jealous of
your talent, even if they are your teachers."
Nada was watching Shiv, trying not to stare,
but tracking every move. "That's beautiful,"
she said softly. "Where did you find it?"
"It was a gift," Shiv said. "It's funny
how strange objects can come to
the rescue of artists who are envied."
"Nick told me that artistic confidence
comes down to two things," said Nikos.
"One is an ally's estimation of your art,
and the other is your own. They are
equal, but you need both in order
to get a complete perspective."
"And what about the opinion of
people like Ass-born?" Shiv said.
Nikos wiped his fingers on a napkin
and then tossed it into the trash can.
"Garbage," he said. "Ignore them."
Shiv thought that was good art advice.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, location, and content notes appear separately.
fuzzyred. It also fills the "Give me a slice of the bananas and sausage, will ya?" square in my 4-1-24 card for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Bingo fest. This poem belongs to the Shiv thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics. Among these is an abusive art teacher, which is a very common experience that lots of people find upsetting. Highlight to read the more detailed warnings. It includes reference to the aftermath of a severe earthquake, frazzled nerves, the inside of Shiv's head is always a warning, anxiety with nervous mannerisms, teacher arriving late, substitute art teacher, control freak, refugees, students who have struggled in school, harsh criticism, crying student, rude language, walking out of class, past limb loss, examples of past abuse, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.
"The Hope and Freedom You Exude"
[Thursday, June 16, 2026]
Shiv headed to an art class at
the University of Nebraska-Omaha.
The Big One had left him feeling
frazzled, and he had a ton of
things to do, but he defended
his art time with great vigor.
He needed it to relax, and
nobody wanted a supervillain
getting down to his last nerve.
This class was mixed media on
blending colors for things like sky,
water, skin tones, and flowers.
Shiv had already taken a liking
to the Mixed Media Classroom
and felt glad that today's session
was there, because it had all kinds
of tables and chairs and easels so
you could work how you wanted.
One whole wall was all shelves
stuffed with paints, canvas, paper,
pens, pencils, fibercraft scraps, glue,
scissors, and other art supplies.
Shiv grabbed a table and one of
the fun spinny stools that you could
kick the floor and do circles on.
Idly he pushed himself back and
forth as the other students came in.
He spotted a couple of other guys --
one of them pretty old -- a couple
of women, and then a jumble of
folks that Shiv couldn't really track.
The youngest of the women sat down
at Shiv's table, more of a girl if he was
being honest, his size but curvier.
She looked around anxiously,
started gnawing on her thumbnail,
then tucked her hands underneath
her thighs so she'd remember not to.
Shiv used the same trick to keep
his own hands out of trouble.
The art teacher showed up
five minutes late, and Shiv
frowned, because this was
a guy and he was pretty sure
the flyer listed a lady teacher --
Millie something-or-other, yeah.
Well, whatever. All the dude
had to do was mix paint and
talk, which wasn't all that hard.
"I'm Professor Otto Aschenborn,"
he said, writing it on a whiteboard.
"As you can see, the assigned teacher
is absent today, so I'm stepping up. Go
around the room and say your name
with a detail about why you're here."
Shiv began to get a sinking sensation
as it reminded him of grade school
where the teachers just wanted
to control everything all the time.
First up was a petite woman wearing
a floppy beige tunic over blue jeans.
"I'm Barbra Armstead," she said. "I'm
a stay-at-home mom, my son Keith
just turned six months old and started
sleeping through the night. So I want
to get out and do some grownup stuff."
Next came a much older man in
a plaid shirt and thick black glasses.
"I am Nikos Stefanidis," he said. "I'm
a retired shopkeeper. My oldest son Nick
is a modern artist. I thought that I would
learn art to see what all of the fuss is
about, and so I could try sketching
en plein air around the Omaha area."
Nervously Shiv smoothed a hand
down the front of his white T-shirt.
It had a cat with a palette saying,
I paint so I don't choke people.
Save a life: send oil paints.
"Uh, I'm Shiv," he said. "I'm
a local artist and I work at
a jazz joint. Basically I'm
just taking classes for kicks."
Beside him, the girl wearing
the olive drab T-shirt was
nibbling her lip and picking at
a friendship bracelet on one wrist.
"My name is Nada Faraguna,"
she said with a bit of accent.
"My family moved here from
Croatia when I was younger. I
study art and writing so that I can
show the refugee experience."
Shiv knew plenty of refugees,
and not just from the Big One --
there was Zipper, and a bunch
of folks up in Rutledge, and so on.
At the next table over there was
a Hispanic teen with a gray headrag
covering his hair and tattoos peeking
out from under his paint-spattered shirt.
"I'm Danilo Cardenas," he said. "I suck
at school, just scraped by my junior year
of high school. My dad offered to buy
me a used car if I take summer classes.
I really want that car, so here I am."
There were more introductions after
that, but they were farther away, and
Shiv didn't care much about people
anyhow, so he just tuned them out.
Eventually, Professor Aschenborn
went over to the supply shelves and
brought out a tray for each student
that held brushes, paints, and pastels.
Then he added a stack of art papers
with different tints and textures.
"I'll do a brief demonstration with
each medium and range of colors
to start. Watch and learn," he said.
"Then I'll go back and illustrate in
more detail while you follow along."
At least the first demo looked interesting.
Professor Aschenborn started with oils
and used a big palette knife to mix them
before making a grid of skin tones.
He did the flower colors in acrylics,
then the sky and ocean in watercolors.
The guy might be a bit of a dick, but
Shiv had to admit that his gradient
of watercolor blues was silky-smooth.
"All right, everyone, let's focus on
the diversity special," said the teacher.
"You can buy sets of paint or pastels in
a politically correct range of colors, but
they look more alive if you mix your own."
Shiv frowned as he glanced sidelong
at the other students to see how well
they were handling it. Nada seemed
nervous. Danilo just looked pissed off.
It was time for the practical stuff,
though, so Shiv picked a sheet
of eggshell paper and got started.
He found it fairly easy to make
a grid of skin tones, and the tray
had a different brand of paint
than what he usually used,
so that was fun to explore.
Then Professor Aschenborn
started going around to critique
the work that they were doing.
Barbra looked unhappy at
whatever he said to her.
Shiv still couldn't hear when
the teacher got to Nikos, but
the older man drawled, "Son,
I have actually been all around
the Mediterranean and I know
what people look like there."
It made Barbra burst into giggles.
Scowling, Professor Aschenborn
stalked over to Shiv's table.
"Half that page is mud,"
the teacher said, pointing.
"Well duh," said Shiv. "I'm
experimenting with matches
based on color temperature."
"If this were a real art class, you'd
fail it," Professor Aschenborn said.
Even though it was supposed to be
just for fun, the words sent a trickle
of sweat down Shiv's back. He had
gotten into trouble often enough
growing up for poor performance.
Then Professor Aschenborn moved
on to Nada. "Seeing as how you're
from Europe, I expected better."
She cringed away from him,
and he loomed right over her.
Shiv reached a hand between
them to block the motion.
"Don't touch her," he said
in his bouncer voice.
Professor Aschenborn
narrowed his eyes but
didn't say anything.
He simply shifted
his attention over
to Danilo's work.
Instead of arguing
with the professor,
Danilo just produced
a loud sucking sound
with his teeth and tongue.
Shiv was kind of impressed
by how annoying that was.
Professor Aschenborn went
back to the front desk and
worked up the flower grids.
They really were pretty,
especially the watercolors.
Nada was biting her nails again
as she leaned over her tray,
picking out paints to blend.
Danilo had propped up
his page so that the paints
would run down it, clearly
a trick learned from graffiti.
Barbra seemed to be working
on a set of nursery colors that
blended blue to lavender to pink.
Shiv quickly became fascinated
with trying to mix shades of pink
and purple that he'd seen before,
nudging the colors warmer or cooler,
adding, diluting, and just playing.
He was working on the kind of
mobster pink that was actually
more of an orchid color when
Professor Aschenborn butted in.
"You'll never get anywhere if you
can't follow directions," he said.
"That one's not even on the grid."
Shiv's retort got caught in his teeth,
because he'd spent way too much time
with people calling him "defiant" just
for sticking up for himself in school.
Professor Aschenborn stalked over
and laid into Nada next. "This page
looks like wrapping paper," he said.
"You're not even trying to get it right."
Nada started to sniffle, desperately
trying to hide her tears and failing.
"What, now you're going to cry?"
the teacher sneered. "If you can't
take a little critique, then you'll never
make it as an artist. The critics are
far more brutal than simple honesty."
Then he glanced back at Shiv and
added slyly, "Though it looks like
you have plenty of company."
"Screw this, I'm out of here,"
Shiv snapped, standing up.
Then he beckoned to Nada.
"Come with me," he said.
"Nobody has a right to pick
on you or make you cry."
Nada wiped her face with
her hand and then stood up.
Shiv slapped a black-ball card
on the art table as he left.
To his surprise, a bunch
of the other students bailed
out of the class with him.
"You uh, didn't all have
to leave on my account,"
Shiv said. "I just don't have
much patience with bullshit."
"If I'd spent another minute
in there, I'd have punched
the fucker," said Danilo.
"Well, I wanted to enjoy
a grownup activity,"
Barbra said tartly.
"He's far from that,"
Nikos said with a nod.
"Is anyone else hungry?"
said Danilo. "I know of
a pizza place near here."
"I'll buy a pie," Shiv said,
already mulling what to get.
"I'll get one too," said Nikos.
"I'm happy to share it around."
So they walked to Pizza World,
a cozy little restaurant that had
a huge chalkboard of ingredients
on one wall and another chalkboard
of suggested pizza styles across from it.
Shiv was really impressed by the chalk art,
since he made the chalkboard menus at
Blues Moon so they could change what
was available. This artist was just terrific.
There were booths under the pizza menu
and tables under the ingredient menu.
The owner was missing his left leg
and getting around with crutches.
"It's a new place," Danilo explained.
"Mr. Minagro lost his old place in
California and recently moved here."
"Yeah, there's a lot of new stuff after
the Big One," said Shiv. "What's good?"
"Everything I've tried has tasted great,"
said Danilo. "I'm getting Jamaican Jazz.
It has jerk sauce with sausage and plantains,
or bananas if they can't find any plantains."
"I don't want anything too hot and spicy,"
said Barbra. "My hormones are still in
a jumble, so I'm trying to go easy on food."
"Sicilian," Nada said, pointing at the menu.
"It's just sauce and parmesan cheese."
"That works for me," Barbra said.
"We can split one if you want."
"I'll get pepperoni," said Nikos.
"That's between spicy and mild,
and almost everybody likes it."
So they got three medium pizzas
and pushed a couple of tables
together so they could all sit.
Shiv started with pepperoni
while the women had Sicilian.
It tasted good, but familiar,
so he eyed the other options.
Danilo was stuffing himself
with the one he'd ordered.
"Hey, give me a slice of
the bananas and sausage,
will ya?" Shiv asked him.
Danilo pulled free a slice
and passed it to him.
The jerk sauce and
sausage were hot enough
that Mallory would love this,
but the sweet fried bananas
buffered the heat some.
Shiv decided that he liked it
and took a second slice.
He was definitely going
to recommend this place
to some of his friends,
especially the teleporters
who were always hungry.
Nada seemed quite happy
with the Sicilian pizza.
"This is really good,"
she said, looking at
Danilo. "Thanks for
bringing us all here."
"No problem," he said.
"What's your name again?
I missed hearing it earlier."
"Nada," she said. "I'm glad
to meet new people today."
"Your name means nothing?"
Danilo said. "That's weird."
"It's Croatian, and it means
'peace' there," Nada explained.
"It still means 'nothing' in
Spanish," Danilo said.
"Everyone knows that."
"Hey," Shiv said.
"Don't be a dick."
"But it does,"
Danilo protested.
"Yeah, in Spanish,
but she ain't Spanish,"
said Shiv. "If she says
it means 'peace' in ..." It
had sounded like 'crotch'
but he wasn't about to say
that. "... her language,
then that's what it means."
"In Crotch," said Danilo.
Shiv dragged a hand
down his face and
looked at Nada.
"He's just a kid,"
Shiv said. "Don't
take it personal."
Nada shrugged. "It's
not like I'll ever fit in."
"Hey now, don't let
Professor Ass-born
get to you," Shiv said.
"It's hard not to when he's
the teacher," Nada said.
"Maybe I'm not really
cut out for art school."
"Bullshit," said Shiv. "He's
just a dried-up old has-been.
You have to keep that in mind
when facing criticism, because
some people envy the hope and
freedom you exude as an artist."
Barbra nodded vigorously. "I think
that you should stick with your goal of
painting the refugee experience, Nada,"
she said. "People need to see that,
and it's not something just anyone
could do, based on their own life."
"Swing by Hanson Hall some time,
we have lots of art classes and
the teachers aren't assholes,"
Shiv said. "Or if there are any
there, I haven't run into them yet."
"I may do that, if I have time between
my college obligations," said Nada.
"College is good, but art school can be
a writhing snake pit of envy," said Nikos.
"I know about this because my son Nick
ran into some nasty teachers, and he
would tell such stories about them."
"For me it was grade school," said Shiv.
"Teachers hated everything I did, so it got
to where I made shit just to mess with them.
Got me arrested a few times, but it turns out,
I'm not that easy to scare away from art."
He had his play-putty in hand, using it
as a fidget to soothe his frazzled nerves
without really thinking about the context.
"That's good," said Nikos. "You shouldn't
have to give up something you enjoy doing
just because some people are jealous of
your talent, even if they are your teachers."
Nada was watching Shiv, trying not to stare,
but tracking every move. "That's beautiful,"
she said softly. "Where did you find it?"
"It was a gift," Shiv said. "It's funny
how strange objects can come to
the rescue of artists who are envied."
"Nick told me that artistic confidence
comes down to two things," said Nikos.
"One is an ally's estimation of your art,
and the other is your own. They are
equal, but you need both in order
to get a complete perspective."
"And what about the opinion of
people like Ass-born?" Shiv said.
Nikos wiped his fingers on a napkin
and then tossed it into the trash can.
"Garbage," he said. "Ignore them."
Shiv thought that was good art advice.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, location, and content notes appear separately.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-04-08 12:46 am (UTC)I hope Shiv gets a chance to try mixed media again with a better teacher, and that the others don't give up art just because of the jerk.
Thoughts
Date: 2024-04-08 01:37 am (UTC)Something I've noticed, as he's growing, is that while Shiv continues to freeze in certain situations due to triggers from his own past, he is increasingly inclined to break loose to defend someone else.
>> The detail of him leaving the black ball card made me laugh, too.<<
Yay! I showed him using the white-ball one earlier, so I've been watching for an opportunity to slap down the black.
>> I hope Shiv gets a chance to try mixed media again with a better teacher, <<
Oh, he will. I have plans for that boy and art. ;) I've already statted up the nature-oriented art teacher and I found a picture for the wild bohemian one.
>> and that the others don't give up art just because of the jerk. <<
Nada's the most vulnerable in that regard. Fortunately Shiv has other refugee friends and is clearly prepared to defend her with as much force as necessary. Danilo always has graffiti to fall back on. The two actual adults will just hunt around until they find classes they like. Since Shiv already tipped them to Hanson Hall, and they seem to be making friends with each other, so they'll likely show up there too.
... Professor Ass-born better watch his caboose.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2024-06-07 10:46 pm (UTC)That's progress! It also probably ties into some of the work he's done as muscle for Boss White.
>>Yay! I showed him using the white-ball one earlier, so I've been watching for an opportunity to slap down the black.<<
Reading about both kinds of cards was fun. :D
>>Oh, he will. I have plans for that boy and art. ;) I've already statted up the nature-oriented art teacher and I found a picture for the wild bohemian one.<<
More Shiv + Art! Yayy!!!
>>Nada's the most vulnerable in that regard. Fortunately Shiv has other refugee friends and is clearly prepared to defend her with as much force as necessary. Danilo always has graffiti to fall back on. The two actual adults will just hunt around until they find classes they like. Since Shiv already tipped them to Hanson Hall, and they seem to be making friends with each other, so they'll likely show up there too.<<
I'm glad they all have some support to help them bounce back. It would suck if one bad experience ruined things for them.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2024-06-08 07:27 am (UTC)Muscle and bodyguard both. Shiv got a better education in a gang than in school.
>> Reading about both kinds of cards was fun. :D
That's good to hear.
>> More Shiv + Art! Yayy!!! <<
"A Writhing Snake Pit of Envy" is up with several new faculty introduced. On Tuesday, someone prompted for followup with Shiv and Arthur, so they'll be meeting with the Worldbuilding teacher.
>>I'm glad they all have some support to help them bounce back. It would suck if one bad experience ruined things for them.<<
For someone who already likes art and/or school, one bad teacher usually isn't a problem unless the abuse is extreme or extended. Where you lose people is if they're shy, already have difficulties in school, are just starting to explore art, or other factors that make it tenuous.
And the idea that "anyone who can be discouraged from art, should be" is abuse unto itself. Creativity is more than just a human right -- it's part of what makes people human. Trying to beat it out of people is just evil. Everyone should have some creative thing that they enjoy, whether it's art or writing or whatever.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2024-06-16 10:27 pm (UTC)Ooo, that's exciting!
>>For someone who already likes art and/or school, one bad teacher usually isn't a problem unless the abuse is extreme or extended. Where you lose people is if they're shy, already have difficulties in school, are just starting to explore art, or other factors that make it tenuous.<<
That makes sense.
>>And the idea that "anyone who can be discouraged from art, should be" is abuse unto itself.<<
That definitely sounds abusive to me. Not everyone is going to be a master artist or crafter or writer, but they should still be able to indulge their creativity however they choose.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2024-06-17 03:07 am (UTC)Yeah, I'm still working on that thing. I think it was around 21 pages when I went to bed last night.
>> That definitely sounds abusive to me. Not everyone is going to be a master artist or crafter or writer, but they should still be able to indulge their creativity however they choose.<<
Exactly. There's a range:
* Professional artists who do nothing else. This is the least common.
* Professional artists who also have another job, whether in the art world or something unrelated. This is very common.
* Dedicated amateurs who may sell their work occasionally but more often barter, give it away, or keep it. Also common.
* Hobbyists who do art for fun or therapy rather than production, and practical artists who focus mainly on an affordable way to make their space look nicer. This is probably the most common.
There are many reasons to make art. Money is only one of them. Many people enjoy making art; professionals are the minority. Art is an essential part of what makes us human and part of a balanced life. So taking it away from people, or hurting them because they aren't what you want, is abusive.
https://www.hottakes.space/p/21-reasons-you-should-make-art
https://kelliedayart.com/your-art-is-important/
https://www.theartist.me/art/what-are-the-functions-of-art/
I feel that creativity is a human right. Everyone should have one or more creative things that they love to do. And I favor the anthropological definition of art: any decorative feature on an object that is not required for its purpose (e.g. stripes on a rug), and any object whose purpose is aesthetic rather than practical (e.g. statues). We decorate things because we like to look at them that way. We make things just for the hell of it. So it doesn't matter if your art is oil paint, charcoal, quilting, crochet, ceramics, graffiti, beading -- it's all good.
It also doesn't matter if you sell it, trade it, give it to a friend, or just hang it on the wall because you like it. If you can make or decorate things yourself, you can save a ton of money. Buying art isn't cheap. You can also make practical things look nicer -- one of my favorites is making acoustic panels by filling a frame with eggcrate foam, then decorating the front with children's handprints. I'm also a fan of abstract masking tape art, which is ideal for creating a room palette to guide decorating purchases. And so on. Find something you love and do it.
"If you hear a voice in side you say "you cannot paint," then by all means paint! and that voice will be silenced."
Yes, yes, yes!
Date: 2024-04-08 03:10 am (UTC)I'm not thinking pitchforks and torches, just the same viewpoints and disappointments from people that he considers PEERS instead of beneath him. Oooh, even better, an art teacher that HE respects treating his "teaching" behavior (yah, NOT!) the same way that he treated the students.
Re: Yes, yes, yes!
Date: 2024-04-08 07:12 am (UTC)>> I would dearly LOVE to see the response from the other art teachers when news of the incident gets back to them, ESPECIALLY with the added weight of the blackball card, or proof that the idiot tried to hide or trash the card as "ridiculous." <<
Well, I have one already statted up. I have the picture for another. The Creative Jam theme for April 20-21 will be "Mercy."
>> I'm not thinking pitchforks and torches, just the same viewpoints and disappointments from people that he considers PEERS instead of beneath him. <<
Well, both the two I'm looking at are better teachers but also women younger than him. I doubt he really thinks of them as peers. You know how men like that are. But Millie's going to be absolutely pissed that he took her students and dropped them on their heads.
>> Oooh, even better, an art teacher that HE respects treating his "teaching" behavior (yah, NOT!) the same way that he treated the students. <<
That would logically be the head of the department, or some other position of authority like "2d Supervisor." Who is probably sick of Ass-born's shit and keeping him around for the things he's good at, or because he's happy to run committees that everyone else hates doing.
I'd need to stat up at least 2 new characters, or 3 if I try to include someone he'd actually consider a peer. They're all college teachers so the educational background would take a lot of build time. But if I have the time for it, I'm willing to give it a go, because I'd enjoy seeing how Terramagne-American handles a situation like this better than local-America would.
Re: Yes, yes, yes!
Date: 2024-04-08 04:20 pm (UTC)I can't possibly be the only adult in America whose response to many years of educational abuse is to gleefully pop popcorn just in anticipation of a story where the wrong "teacher" is shown to be wrong, even without the (wistfully hoped-for) appropriate comeuppance that they have earned many dozen times over.
For your poetry, the popcorn is literal. *G*
Re: Yes, yes, yes!
Date: 2024-04-08 05:03 pm (UTC)Thanks for the vote of confidence!
>> focused on the community center. <<
It's actually at the University of Nebraska-Omaha, and I do have further ideas for that setting.
>> I can't possibly be the only adult in America whose response to many years of educational abuse is to gleefully pop popcorn just in anticipation of a story where the wrong "teacher" is shown to be wrong, <<
True, my readers tend to love things like that. I write fantasy, and what people fantasize about is ... justice. Shows what a shithole dimension this one is. 0_o But Terramagne is much better.
>> even without the (wistfully hoped-for) appropriate comeuppance that they have earned many dozen times over.<<
There should be some kind of consequences. Professor Ass-born may be too entrenched to fire easily, but he pissed off some of his coworkers and a walkout makes the college look bad even though it happened in summer with a community workshop class.
>> For your poetry, the popcorn is literal. *G*
Yay! :D That's flattering.
Re: Yes, yes, yes!
Date: 2024-04-12 09:38 pm (UTC)Also, if nothing else, the jerk teacher could just have the logical consequence of not being allowed to sub anymore, and not having backup from any of his colleagues.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-04-08 03:43 am (UTC)Thoughts
Date: 2024-04-08 06:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-04-13 06:23 am (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2024-04-13 06:29 am (UTC)Yay!
>> and now I want to sign up for another art class!! <<
I'm glad I could inspire you. Go for it!