As I leaned back in my fold-out chair attempting to journal some thoughts, one of my 6th-graders walked over and boldly pointed at the wall. "What's that?" he asked, indicating the small print hanging there. Without looking up, I told him it was a copy of a painting and that he should hurry up and put sunscreen on before the next activity began (and you better put some behind yours ears this time or I swear I will throw you in the lake, kid). But he interrupted with me with a surprisingly sincere "but Josh, what does it mean?" Moments like that make you stop. So I cocked my head to one side and smiled, then sat the kid on the bed next to me and asked "well, what do you see?" Of course, the others wouldn't be left out, and soon the whole cabin of 6th-grade boys piled on the bed, paying rapt attention to a 19th-century painting.
This became a ritual. There was a short rest period before camp activities began, so I seized the opportunity and forced my boys to sit still and stare at art every day. And they loved it. Each painting soon evolved into a specific lesson, and every single cabin of mine that summer - including many kids with learning disabilities - grew to love the art lessons after breakfast. I loved it, too - every new cabin brought fresh ideas, and I learned just as much from the kids as they did from me. And all of it stemmed from the of question "what", followed by "...why?"
These are the paintings and lessons that opened up a new world to 6th-grade boys. I hope you can find something in them as well. I'll list the basic information, the basic answers to "what do you see", and finally summarize the kids' interpretations. Take a look at the paintings in as high a resolution as possible - just click the pictures to expand.
Lesson #1: Everything is intentional, nothing is random.
Info: The Voyage of Life: Youth. Thomas Cole, 1842.
What do you see: Trees. A castle in the sky. A boy. A boat. An angel. Water. Rocks.
Thoughts: The boy on his boat represents youth, ever straining for unreachable sky-castle of dreams. While the boy has his hand on the tiller - he can steer back and forth - there is no sail nor engine, and he cannot control his forward pace (the river represents time). Right now the water is as placid and calm as the boy's surroundings are full of color, life, and promise. But a look downstream reveals the distinct white of rapids and the harsher colors of rock. There's much more to analyze, but the point made is that everything has meaning - its placement, size, color, style, everything. Nothing is painted randomly; the artist agonized over every detail.
Lesson #2: Lines and color draw the eye, and time period takes it even deeper.
Info: The Dance Lesson. Edgar Degas, 1879.
What do you see: Girls - dancers. Tutus, the floor, walls, a mirror-thing, windows, a...cello?
Thoughts: Despite their state as 6th-grade boys, The Dance Lesson always became the cabin favorite. I'll quote from something I wrote for a friend:
The first thing you see is the girl in pink. But the eye quickly slides off her to her companion with the blue ribbon, then finally settles in bottom left corner on the girl in orange. Not only is her color unique but so is her posture – she is downcast, obviously upset about something. If you look at the other corner – the dancers curiously form a line leading straight to the sad girl. And the curtains form a line with the wall also guiding the eye to this girl. The floor itself is even full of lines that redirect you…to the lines drawing the eye to the girl. Even without mentioning her striking orange, Degas obviously wanted to draw the viewer’s eye to this woman. That right there was the foundational lesson of this painting – how artists use lines and color to draw the eye.
But now we must ask: why? Why did Degas want our eye on this girl? Arguably she sits on the cello not because she hates it but because she loves it – this girl longs to play cello but is being forced to dance. If it were the other way around, she’d be wearing musician’s clothes, not the dress of a ballerina. This is a scene, perhaps of a backstage room just before a performance, telling of struggle, disappointment, and hope. Then taking this a step deeper: dances were for the rich, as was art, so this was meant to be viewed by those with power. This was painted in the middle of the Industrial Revolution, an era famous for technological progress and the simultaneous dehumanization of the workplace. Factory workers did the same mindless job as the hundred other workers next to them. In contrast, Degas shows a girl, deliberately humanized by emotion and struggling with her slotted role. In the middle of the Industrial Era, Degas is trying to remind people of the importance of dreams, the value of the person, and the unmechanized magic of humanity.
But now we must ask: why? Why did Degas want our eye on this girl? Arguably she sits on the cello not because she hates it but because she loves it – this girl longs to play cello but is being forced to dance. If it were the other way around, she’d be wearing musician’s clothes, not the dress of a ballerina. This is a scene, perhaps of a backstage room just before a performance, telling of struggle, disappointment, and hope. Then taking this a step deeper: dances were for the rich, as was art, so this was meant to be viewed by those with power. This was painted in the middle of the Industrial Revolution, an era famous for technological progress and the simultaneous dehumanization of the workplace. Factory workers did the same mindless job as the hundred other workers next to them. In contrast, Degas shows a girl, deliberately humanized by emotion and struggling with her slotted role. In the middle of the Industrial Era, Degas is trying to remind people of the importance of dreams, the value of the person, and the unmechanized magic of humanity.
At least, that’s what my boys got out of it.
Lesson #3: Light reveals meaning. Also, 'Murica!
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Info: Breezing Up (A Fair Wind). Winslow Homer, 1873-76.
What do you see: People on a boat. Two boats. Water. Sky. Clouds. A sail, rudder, and mast.
Thoughts: After the initial questions pushing the kids to notice the various details in this painting, I directed them with this question: do you see the light, and why is it there? We see three (relaxed) boys on a boat, with an older man in-between them. The boat - entitled the Gloucester - is steered by a boy at the tiller, who looks forward with optimism at the future and his destination. Eventually my campers would notice how light specifically fell on the backs and shoulders of the kids in the boat, but solidly on the head of the older man. Their end analysis: the boat represents America. And with light ahead and wind behind her, America shall be carried into a bright and optimistic future on the backs of the young and through the wisdom of the old.
Lesson #4: Style reveals story.
Info: Woman with a Parasol. Claude Monet, 1875.
What do you see: A woman and her umbrella. A little boy, sky, grass, and wind. Strange clouds.
Thoughts: Wind. Everything in the painting draws the eye up to the woman's face - which is distinctly out of focus - causing the eye to climb up the umbrella, swirl down to the clouds, the boy, the grass, the shadow, her dress, and back up to her face. Your eye unconsciously follows the path of the wind, and you can almost hear the "wsssh" as the swirl pulls you around. Masterfully, Monet has captured the story, style, spirit - or impression - of an invisible force of nature through a visual art.
Lesson #5: Combine everything and find your own interpretation.
Info: Sierra Nevada. Albert Bierstadt, 1871-73.
What do you see: Trees. Mountains. A lake. Clouds. Deer, rocks, a beach. A waterfall.
Thoughts: This was the final painting we would analyze on the boys' last morning at camp. First let me outline the flow of the painting, then I'll share my favorite interpretation. Note how the trees instantly shoot your eyes up to the mountains. Yet the mountains are dark and hazy, so we slide off their jagged edges to the distant peak in the middle. Finally, our eyes fall down that central mountain to the stream, ending in a waterfall cascading into a lake. The lake ends at the beach with deer - the only living creatures in the painting.
At the end of the summer, one of my eleven-year-olds gave one of the best analyses I've heard: the lively (emphasized by red flowers) foreground is England; it's much smaller, established, yet has hints of decay on the fringes (the dead tree). "Across the pond" is America: the bigger, scarier, and unconquered wilderness. The life in America (the waterfall) looks small from a distance. However, if you trace the flow, that life is flowing from this uncharted expanse. And at a closer look, the wilderness hardly empty - light creeping up the slope reveals flourishing wildlife. As time goes on, America will light up with life, become immensely bigger than England, and even go on to provide for England in turn (the camper referenced WWII here, at which I half-reprimanded, half-laughed at him).
At least, that's what one sixth-grader found. What do you see?