"I'm always interested in things that we don't call art, and I say why not?"
I loved this quote by Baldessari for years; now I'm enrolled in the MFA program that he helped design. I'd always assumed I couldn't draw. When, at age 19, I discovered that I could not only draw but drew better than some people who'd been drawing and painting their whole lives, it astounded me. I learned how to draw while observing myself learning how; I noticed what helped and what didn't. It felt amazing, and magical, but it was not beyond analysis, and I kept notes. I didn't know the term "meta-cognition" at the time, but that's what fascinated me. My brain was changing; I liked how that felt. My undergraduate degree is in painting and drawing, not because I planned it, but because I discovered it.
I've taught photography for 14 years now. I am, for the most part, self-taught. I've become conversant with digital art and photography. I've invented a rotoscoping technique, taught myself HTML, XML and Flash. My technology interests are not just forward; I modded a vintage Pxl-2000 video camera. I also use letterpress, and fold that back into digital art.
Lately I've been thinking about putting what I know about perception and awareness of power structures into another form. I had a recent experience that struck a deeper chord. I managed to volunteer for Key to the City in 2010. I instantly recognized that the project was about surprise, exploration and experience, and that felt very close to the way I teach. "This!" I thought. "I want to explore this." Designing an experience is the way that I teach. If I stop calling it teaching, and no longer encumber it with the burden of bureaucracy, it would be 'art' in any other context.
I want to excavate the interrelationships between making art and making an educational experience, identifying the signifiers that tell us whether something is education or art, and questioning and manipulating those signifiers to see what happens.