Representation matters: Possible wellness implications of inclusive media about entrepreneurship

By Betsy Campbell, Assistant Professor and Research Associate, College of Education

Web Banner with words Accelerator Rap Challenge on a colorful background

Can you name some innovative entrepreneurs? This question is posed to students in the Accelerator Rap course on the first day of the semester. Without exception, students build a list of impressive founders who all happen to be white males. This is true even if the students do not identify as white or male.

Unfortunately, the lists the students make are reasonable reflections of the current ecosystem. Entrepreneurship and the surrounding domains such as venture capital are racialized and gendered professions. Similarly, popular media about entrepreneurs and entrepreneurship also tends to highlight the experiences of white male founders.

The lack of diversity in the entrepreneurial ecosystem is usually framed in terms of the constraints it places on the innovations that emerge and the negative economic implications it has for individuals and communities. These are important aspects of diversity and entrepreneurship, and they deserve sustained attention. However, the impact of the lack of diversity in the media representations about entrepreneurship also warrants consideration.

As viewers, especially young viewers, experience representations of gender and race in the media, they are making meaning about their own identities and possible futures. Exposure to biased depictions of gender and race has been associated with lower self-esteem among girls and children of color. Perhaps seeing media about female founders, founders of color, and other under-represented founders in fictional and factual media could encourage more individuals to see themselves in innovative entrepreneurial work. Moreover, perhaps these positive representations could bolster viewers’ sense of self-efficacy, their sense of belonging in celebrated professions, and their sense of intrinsic value.

Students in the Accelerator Rap Course, as well as those in a related national contest, are challenged with creating short SchoolHouseRock-style animated music videos intended to help 8-12 year-old girls and kids of color see themselves as future founders. As they craft their inclusive videos, these students are required to think about their own biases and the biases present in the media about entrepreneurship. This often leads them to recognize the lack of diversity in other professions and in the media writ large. It leads some of them to explore entrepreneurial options for themselves for the first time.

Studies have yet to be done to determine what, if any, impact exposure to inclusive media about entrepreneurship might have on young people. But the inclusive animated music videos coming out of the Accelerator Rap course and related national Challenge are providing the foundational materials for such inquiries.

The 2022 Accelerator Rap Challenge Finale and Awards Presentation was held April 4. The winning entry is Fluffy Entrepreneurship by Kawaii Society Animation.

The winning animation from the 2022 Accelerator Rap Challenge can also be viewed in Borland Project Space (125 Borland Building, University Park) from April 7-14, 9am-5pm.

Find more information about The Accelerator Rap Challenge at https://sites.psu.edu/challenge.

 

 

Q&A with the artists of MASKED

An Exhibition by William Doan, Michael Green, and Emily Steinberg

Illustrated headshots of the artists side-by-side with the title MASKED at the top
Artwork above by Emily Steinberg

 

Borland Project Space | 125 Borland Building, Penn State University Park
January 12 – March 2, 2022 | 9 a.m. – 4 p.m. Monday through Friday
Masked Exhibition Artists’ Talk: https://bit.ly/3suSHDK
February 25 from 4 – 5 p.m.

How and when did you conceive of the Masked Exhibition and how did it all come together?

Emily Steinberg: During the Pandemic Year of 2021, Bill, Michael and I were zooming on a regular basis. We did this to stay creatively and socially connected during the time of lockdown and isolation. We spoke about a lot of things during this time, and one of them… was collaborating on an exhibition together around the idea of masking. What is masking? What has our experience been like during the lockdown. What are the issues of identity and presentation around masking. What are the historical and art historical precedents of masking. Picasso’s Demoiselles D’Avignon, 1907, comes to mind.

William Doan: I think it was during a catch-up zoom early in 2021 and we were chatting about possible collaborations. We discovered that we were all interested in masks/masking for a variety of reasons. Emily was already making work about masking, Michael’s take as a physician was interesting and personal, and I have always been fascinated by “masking” writ large as a theatre artist. We started sharing work and Michael investigated the possibility of showing the work at Hershey Medical and we were off and running.

Michael Green: As Emily and Bill said, we had been zooming for a while to stay connected, and during one of our brainstorming sessions, we decided to explore the theme of masking as something that was on everyone’s mind, but that probably meant something different to each person. Since each of us comes from different backgrounds, we thought it would be fruitful to respond to this simple prompt in our own way, and the exhibit evolved from there.

Illustrations of people wearing different types of masks with witty descriptions of appropriate activities when wearing each style
Artwork above by Emily Steinberg

 

What surprised you and/or what did you learn when you were creating the work for this exhibition?

Emily Steinberg: I loved the idea of blowing up drawings and printing them on vinyl.

William Doan: What surprised me was how differently we all thought about masking, yet our mutual interest in graphic medicine, comics, graphic narrative seemed to tie it all together. I learned that I’m really inspired by Emily and Michael’s work and want to keep finding ways to collaborate with them.

Michael Green: I was surprised by how scale changed an image. Most of my original work was done in small and inexpensive composition notebooks, 7.5″x9.75″. Seeing these images enlarged to 4 ft x 5 ft in size changed so much about the images, in terms of impact, meaning, and the feelings they elicited. Also, seeing the various pieces juxtaposed with one another was really interesting, because each of us see differently and express our visions in unique ways.

Illustrations of various kinds of masking on the left with a list of what masks do and don't do on the right
Artwork above by Michael Green

 

How has your perception changed since you first conceived of this exhibition; what does this work mean and represent to you now?

Emily Steinberg: This work represents a specific period in time for me. A time of vast uncertainty, of fear, anxiety, of trying to figure out how to maneuver within new constraints.

William Doan: I’d say my interest and thinking around the complex notion of masking has deepened. Teaching wearing a mask, trying to perform wearing a mask, trying to conceive of mask-wearing and Covid-like pandemics being part of life from now on, weigh heavily on my mind. And those thoughts feed the continued work I’m doing in the mental health space, thoughts about masking anxiety and depression, hiding and protecting the self, and the historical power of masking.

Michael Green: Masks have taken on meaning so much greater than originally intended in the medical context. Medical professionals tended to see them in terms of public health and safety. But for so many people, these are statements about politics, identity, and affiliation. It’s strange and interesting, and also troubling in many ways.

If you were creating work for the exhibition today, what would you do differently?

Emily Steinberg: I would create a full-blown graphic narrative about the experience and present it as life size panels.

William Doan: I would love to scale up the size of the pandemic doctor masks I made and explore different ways of applying text to them.

Michael Green: I think I’d include more self-portraits with masks to see where that takes me.

black plague mask with hands and text drawn on
Artwork above by William Doan

 

What comes to mind around this topic of masking when you think about the future?

Emily Steinberg: I don’t want to think about masks anymore, LOL.

William Doan: I keep thinking about how regular masking in public will exponentially lower the number of people who know what I look like. And how this might feed social media as the location where you try to connect the masked face you encounter out in the world with the whole face of that person …

Michael Green: I look forward to a time when a mask is just a mask and no longer a statement about one’s politics or identity. I don’t know if we’ll ever get there, but I can hope ….

View larger images and the full exhibition at Masked online: https://spark.adobe.com/page/cevVdvRawvSZr/

The COVID-19 Pandemic: Stories from Nurses on the Frontline

By Kiernan Riley, BSN, RN
PhD Student, University Fellow, Penn State College of Nursing
Graduate Research Assistant, Nurses’ Stories of the COVID-19 Pandemic: A Qualitative Study

Black and white drawing of two hands holding another hand between them with title The Art and Science of Nursing

When I first heard of COVID-19, as a nurse working in the field, I felt like I became the go-to person for information and knowledge among family and friends. However, for the first time, I didn’t know the answers OR where to find them. As days became more and more unclear, instructions began to change, and work places became near frantic. The reality of the virus set in, and nursing (like the rest of the world) was changed forever. I was working as a home health and hospice nurse at the turn of COVID-19 in 2020. Leaving the house suddenly felt like a death threat; yet, we were asked to enter the homes of others and provide care for them. How do you provide quality care when you’re scared for your own health? Drives to work became eerily empty, and every day seemed overcast regardless of weather.

As a hospice nurse, I saw that every death was impacted by COVID-19, whether the virus was present or not. Funerals stopped. Family couldn’t visit. Often times, it felt like nurses were one of the few with the opportunity to bear witness. To complicate the processing of already difficult emotions, there was the immense guilt. I constantly thought,  “I am a nurse, and yet I am not doing enough.” Watching the suffering of hospital nurses in major cities internationally, and working humbly as a rural hospice nurse, I couldn’t see the work I was doing as important. Through all this, phrases such as “unprecedented times” and “healthcare heroes” were being tossed around. Phrases that made me personally feel deep resentment for the people that created them. What did the “hero” sentiment mean for people who were scared to step out of the front door, into patients’ rooms, and do their jobs?  At the time, I certainly didn’t feel like one.

Now, a year later, I feel braver and more resolute in my abilities as a nurse and as a caregiver. I see myself and my fellow nurses, even in my rural area, as heroes. My guilt has faded, and I feel proud I was able to help where I was at the time. As patients, interactions, and jobs slowly return to normal, and vaccinations are readily available in the United States, I have found myself feeling overwhelming pride for the entire nursing profession.

That’s my story as a nurse in the COVID-19 pandemic. But what about other nurses, those working directly in COVID units and truly on the frontlines, that continue to this day? Who are the people behind the term “heroes”, and how have they been dealing with COVID-19 both professionally and personally?

Using stories as a basis for exploration, a team of researchers from both the College of Nursing and the Arts and Design Research Incubator at Penn State hope to dive into the experiences of nurses working the frontlines during the COVID-19 pandemic. Nurses’ Stories of the COVID-19 Pandemic: A Qualitative Study is a pilot study in which frontline nurses will share their stories of working during the pandemic, and the impact this work has had on their professional and personal well-being. Through this work, a team of researchers will 1) explore the experiences of frontline nursing staff during the COVID-19 pandemic and 2) explore the feasibility, acceptability, and perceived efficacy of storytelling with frontline nurses as both a qualitative methodology and therapeutic group process for nursing staff.

Stories can serve as the medium to further connect to frontline workers as well as to gain an understanding of their experiences, encouraging smart and connected health. Findings will provide foundational data for a larger study that will inform 1) the preliminary development of strategies to support the well-being and effectiveness of nurses during emergency/disaster situations, 2) the effectiveness of storytelling as a therapeutic benefit and as a methodology to collect data, and 3) pedagogical approaches to prepare prelicensure nursing students for these situations.

Preliminary stories gathered during the pilot have revealed moments of despair, trauma, hope, and resilience among nurses. These stories have been compelling, thought-provoking, and awe-inspiring. The team looks forward to sharing the stories of nurses with the public.

Black and white illustration of people sitting in chairs in a circleThis research has been graciously funded by the Arts and Design Research Incubator (ADRI) at The Pennsylvania State University and is a collaborative effort between Dr. Michael Evans, Assistant Dean for Nursing Education at the Commonwealth Campuses, and Dr. Bill Doan, Professor and Director of the ADRI, along with funded graduate research assistants, Kiernan Riley and Kalei Kowalchick, BSN-PhD Students, and funded undergraduate research assistant, Logan Desanto, Junior Honor’s Nursing Student at the Scranton Campus.

 

Impolite Birth: Explorations into the Benefits of Theatre Voice Training for Childbirth

By Kris Danford
Associate Professor of Voice and Speech

Headshot of Kris Danford, gray background

You’re walking along and suddenly you stub your toe. Without thinking, a howl of pain comes out of your mouth. You say “Ow!” or “Arrgh!” Or something more colorful I probably shouldn’t repeat in this blog post.

As humans, we make noise when we encounter discomfort. Why? Well, recent research conducted by Genevieve Swee and Annett Schirmer published in The Journal of Pain suggests that vocalizing may improve pain tolerance. It’s worth observing that vocalizing also seems to be a ubiquitous reaction to discomfort that is not strictly physical; emotional discomfort can also provoke the production of sound. Think of how a startled person might yelp or a person stricken with grief may cry, keen or wail. It’s a deeply ingrained impulse, but whether a person acts on that impulse to make sound is another matter.

In actor training, significant time is spent connecting the body to sound. Voice and speech classes focus on techniques to minimize physical effort, to breathe freely and respond vocally without bracing or inhibition. Voice teachers use phrases like “the release of sound” or “the purging of sound.” Students are sometimes encouraged to “sigh with relief,” to notice the vibration of their own voice and, even more, to notice that that vibration could be a pleasant sensation in their body. Simply put, noise is encouraged. Given that most people try to be unobtrusive and polite in society, that kind of unapologetic self-expression can initially feel vulnerable and unfamiliar. But after being steeped in this kind of training, it becomes familiar, enjoyable, even.

As a voice teacher and actor, this has been my world for many years. But in 2010, I took a hiatus from it when my husband and I pressed pause on life in New York City to give birth to our first baby in the rural calm of Vermont. My Birkenstock-clad midwives measured my bump with tape measures and taught me hypnosis-based birth techniques as I prepared for an epidural-free birth. I dutifully followed guided meditations and visualized forest paths and ocean tides. I devoured any and all guidance on childbirth I could get. As a rookie mom-to-be I didn’t know the first thing about any of this, so I relied on the experts. Despite my best efforts, the stroll-down-the-forest-path birth I had prepared for didn’t happen as planned. The techniques I’d studied were useless for me; instead, I spent hours contorted in agony and helplessly mute, so heavily dosed with narcotics that I was unable to articulate in words that I needed something different. In the end, we were infinitely lucky to have a healthy baby girl. However, the process left a lot to be desired.

Four years later, baby #2 was on the way. By that time, I had plunged back into the world of voice training and had begun a career as a certified teacher of Fitzmaurice Voicework®. I felt confident in what I knew about how the body and voice could work to facilitate release in the context of actor training. I decided, ‘Well, what the hell? This time, I’ll try using the voice work I know. Can’t be worse than last time, can it?’

As it turned out, it was a whole lot better.

It also turned out that I wasn’t the only person with this background who had gotten through labor using techniques rooted in theatre voice training. I was introduced to close collaborator Jenny Mercein of Tulane University, also a professional actor with extensive voice training. Jenny had also just given birth and had also relied on her voice training in labor, so much so that the nurses dubbed her “the singing mom.”

While researching the article we would eventually co-author, (The Voice and Speech Review, “The Birth Process and Theatre Voice Training: The Glorious Chorus”) we talked to a lot of actor/moms with similar backgrounds who had done the same thing in their births. The techniques they used worked to facilitate physical ease, yes, but vocalizing was a big piece of it. These were noisy births. And the helpful vocal expression wasn’t always the calm, low, serene sounds that many childbirth educators promote. There was moaning, singing, growling like a wild animal, shouting Shakespeare (!)…you name it. And according to these women, vocalization itself was an aid. It seemed to provide a sense of empowerment, ownership of the experience and even lessened the sensation of pain.

Image of pregnant woman sitting cross legged with hands over her heart and belly

I wanted to talk to providers. What did midwives and obstetricians know about the intersection of vocalization and labor? Had this been studied? At the University of Michigan in 2018, I met Certified Nurse Midwives Ruth Zielinski, Lee Roosevelt and Dr. Lisa Harris, MD. This research inquiry was, in fact, new; the effect of vocalization on laboring women hadn’t been explored. I was shocked to learn from them that they had all encountered experiences when a laboring woman was redirected to be lower, calmer…quieter. Or scolded for using “inappropriate language” when throwing in some four-letter words. Or told that making sound would sap their energy. Directly shushed, even. In the labor and delivery wing, nurses sometimes give each other the side-eye if one’s patient is being too loud or disruptive. These examples reveal something about the culture surrounding birth in many institutions. Given this reality, it is unsurprising that women often do not feel free to follow their instincts (vocal or otherwise) in childbirth. The examples are also symptomatic, of course, of a long history of women being silenced in broader societal contexts.

What would happen if expectant mothers had the kinds of tools for vocal expression that we voice teachers hope to instill in our theatre students? To find out, Zielinski, Roosevelt, Harris and I began a research project: “Impolite Birth: Theatre Voice Training and the Experience of Childbirth.” I developed a voice class geared toward expectant moms with the collaboration of the research time and my actor and voice colleagues Jenny Mercein and Laura Quigley. The project is on-going as I prepare to work with pregnant women (on zoom, for now) and introduce them to this work.

The human voice is a powerful tool of expression. That power is not limited to projecting one’s lines to the back of a theatre; it also holds the capacity to deeply affect both the listener and the speaker themself. The exploration of voice taps into vulnerable aspects of ourselves, revealing truths otherwise left hidden. There is catharsis and liberation in the expression of sound, whether it be in a play or in a birthing suite. As I continue with this research, I am excited to explore the ways in which voice work can be an aid for humans in a variety of ways and share its value beyond the confines of the stage.

 

Kris Danford & Jenny Mercein (2018) The Birth Process and Voice Training: The Glorious Chorus, Voice and Speech Review, 12:1, 35-48, DOI: 10.1080/23268263.2018.1417097

Swee, Genevieve, and Annett Schirmer. “On the Importance of Being Vocal: Saying “Ow” Improves Pain Tolerance.” The Journal of Pain, Vol. 16, No. 4, 2015, pp.326-334. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jpain.2015.01.002.

Self-Care vs. Self-Respect: Insights from an Evening with Kimberly Dark

By Katelyn Quick
Assistant Director, Penn State Student Affairs Health Promotion and Wellness

Headshot of Katelyn Quick in black blazer with gray background

When I planned to have Kimberly Dark perform “You Don’t Owe Anyone Pretty” for Eating Disorders Awareness Week this year, I knew I was in for a great show that would get me thinking about how appearance and identity tie into systems of oppression. She did not disappoint, and I’d like to share the inspiration with you. Let’s begin with you conjuring up a few images in your mind. When you read the following identities, just imagine that person standing in front of you.

  • Yoga instructor
  • Rock climber
  • Dancer

Were any of these people standing in front of you fat or old?

Now, read a quote from Kimberly Dark:
“The fat middle-aged lady is not supposed to be the fitness instructor or the yoga instructor or the rock climber or the disco dancer. The fat middle-aged lady is not supposed to be physical or respectable in any way.” And then she said something profound; “I am respectable.”  Wow. Mic Drop.

So, I found myself thinking about how categorizing others comes all too naturally. Of course, as a professional who works in the eating disorders field, I’d decided to drop my judgments about others’ bodies long ago. I know that appearance has absolutely nothing to do with health or happiness. But what really hit me about that statement was that Kimberly Dark believes, deep in her core, that she is respectable. She doesn’t need me or anyone else to tell her that. Despite the ways she describes not fitting into society’s ideal identity for women, she believes it in her core. And that, in itself, triggered a sense of reverence. “How beautiful,” I thought.

I teach my clients about body acceptance and self-care every day, which I’m really good at doing! Most females have had to confront body image issues at some point, myself included. I believe these specific challenges taught me to have empathy for my clients. But truthfully, self-care has never been a challenge because it came so intuitively. For me, cooking is easy; yoga is fun; bubble baths feel good. It’s natural for me to encourage my clients to explore what activities work for them.

However, this idea of developing respect at the core had me digging a little deeper. I still have my own struggles with acceptance from others, and frequently find myself considering, “What does this person want from me?” or “How can I make this situation more comfortable for them?” or “What is the right way to show up in that space?” Could the answers to these questions hurt me? Absolutely. The reason Kimberly’s core of respect was striking is because I still need to cultivate that in myself.

Kimberly said, “If we want kids to grow up and take responsibility for their words and actions, then it’s time we adults do more of it ourselves.” Body acceptance and self-care was a good start for me, but I’ll be working on developing respect at my core, both for my clients and for myself.

We each have our own internal power, and we decide how to use it.

 

National Eating Disorders Awareness Week events took place February 22 – 28, 2021. This year’s theme is Every Body Has a Seat at the Table, which was created by the National Eating Disorder Association (NEDA). The theme captures the importance of generating conversations to raise awareness, challenge systemic biases, and share stories from all backgrounds and experiences, especially stories from marginalized communities. The Arts & Design Research Incubator and Student Affairs Health Promotion and Wellness partnered to host guest artist Kimberly Dark. This event was funded by the Laura R. Whitaker Fund.

A Tale of Two Exhibits …

by William Doan
ADRI Director, professor of theatre, 2019-20 Penn State Laureate

When I started The Anxiety Project almost five years ago, it was never my intention to exhibit the drawings in any other way than as part of a performance. In my mind, I wasn’t so much making art, as using drawing to try and express what I seemed to fail to express to others with words alone. (I know that sounds a lot like making art… But for reasons those living with anxiety and depression will understand, the idea of making art is too intimidating to have as an intent). I was coming to grips with the fact that I’ve lived with anxiety and depression most of my life and have, more often than not, let them take the lead in how I moved through the world. Anxiety and depression were essentially in the driver’s seat and I was just along for the ride. The drawings help. Drawing every day helps. Drawing as a regular part of my meditation practice helps. I even integrated drawing into my therapy, often sharing them with my therapist and discovering how much meaning they contained for me.

drawings hanging on a blue wall in exhibition
photo by Ashleigh Longtine

As I started to develop performances and presentations around the drawings, they became integral parts of my story and I loved projecting them as big as possible, depending on the venue. They were/are my scenery, sometimes even my props. So when people talked about the drawings and how the drawings affected them, or how they wanted more time with them than the performance allowed, I was always a little surprised. I didn’t have much confidence in them as stand-alone drawings, or as drawings one might go to experience in an exhibition.

But here we are. Two exhibitions of work from my Anxiety Project happening in 2021:

HUB-Robeson Center, University Park
HUB Gallery & Online
The Anxiety Project
January 16-March 14

Bellefonte Art Museum for Centre County
Paulette Lorraine Berner Community Gallery (Second Floor)
Selections from The Anxiety Project
January 31 – February 28
Friday, Saturday, & Sunday 12-4:30

Both exhibitions include drawings from the project’s performances, as well as pages from the most recent part of the project, a visual narrative, Inside Anxiety and Depression – very much a work in progress. The HUB Gallery exhibition will also include our short animated film, Inhale, Exhale, Draw.

Drawings by Bill Doan Hanging on the walls of HUB Gallery
photo by Ashleigh Longtine

The work in the project is very personal. But it also seeks to make meaning out of the fact that anxiety and depression are pervasive in the archives of human experience. And it seems this is true for biochemical and social reasons. I’m eager to experience the drawings in this context, despite how risky it feels to have them stand on their own outside performance. I hope others will discover something in them that speaks to them and helps shed some light on their own experience or that of someone they love.

The HUB Gallery online exhibition is currently open for viewing.

two walls of Bill Doan's drawings in HUB-Robeson Gallery
View a 360° photo of The Anxiety Project Exhibition at HUB-Robeson Galleries.

REASON TO HOPE: Making Theatre Antiracist – Contributed by Gwendolyn Walker

by Gwendolyn Walker
Assistant Professor of Voice for Musical Theatre

headshot of Gwendolyn Walker

The Day Theatre Stopped

On March 12, 2020, the Broadway League made the unprecedented announcement that Broadway shows would shutter their doors for a month. One month turned into three, then six. Currently, Broadway will stay closed until at least May 30, 2021, and most officials believe it will be even longer.

On May 25, George Floyd, a 46-year-old Black man, was killed in Minneapolis, Minnesota by police officers while in their custody after a store clerk alleged that Floyd had passed a counterfeit $20 bill. The murder was videotaped and went viral. Soon, U.S. citizens and people around the world had watched Floyd die while pleading with the arresting officers that he could not breathe. This produced an immediate and enormous social justice movement in the United States and around the world.

These are stressful times. One way that I handle stress is to think proactively. The whole theatre world in this country is currently paused. This pause gives us an opportunity to plan for what sort of theatrical world we hope to return to when theatres once again open their doors. What of the pre-Covid “normal” is worth keeping and what is worth changing, for example?

As much as I love American musical theatre, considerable change must occur for it to be an art form for all people.

Musical theatre is currently dominated by white, heteronormative, neurotypical stories, whereas BIPOC, queer, and neurodiverse stories are the extreme exception. Too often, we tell stories that require artists to conform to a default and distorted vision of “normal.” The consequence is an industry that is fundamentally patriarchal, misogynistic, heteronormative, neurotypical, and racist. By not addressing this distortion, we perpetuate the idea that straight, white, cis-gendered, neurotypical cultural identities are—and should be—the default, and in doing so we continue the suppression of all other people.

Dr. Ibram X. Kendi

Book cover of How to be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi

A few weeks ago, as part of my work on Penn State’s College of Arts and Architecture’s Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion Committee, I co-hosted a pre-talk discussion about the work of Dr. Ibram X. Kendi, an antiracist activist, scholar, and author of the book, How to Be an Antiracist.  Kendi was interviewed in a live, virtual event for Penn State, and to prepare for our discussion, I read his books and watched every interview and speech of his that I could find. I was shook. His ideas are daring, and he made me think about racism, my activism, and theatre in a new and hopeful way. Additionally, in his book, he extends his ideas of racism to include gender-racism and queer-racism, which I found empowering.

According to Dr. Kendi, “racist” is such a pejorative word that most people equate it with being a bad person. Because most people consider themselves to be good people, they also consider themselves to be “not racist.” The problem is that “not racist” isn’t something you do, it is something you say—a moniker you hang on yourself or a passive comment. Typically, we say it in response to someone calling us out for being racist in the first place. “I’m not a racist!” we reply.

But to be truly “not racist”, Dr. Kendi suggests we must be active: we must be antiracist. When you label yourself ‘not racist’ there is no action implied there. Nothing to do. Additionally, Kendi says we must recognize that the same person can be racist one moment and antiracist the next because being antiracist is something that we DO, not someone who we ARE. For example, a person might agree with a racist political policy in one moment, and an antiracist environmental policy in the next – so in juxtaposing moments, that person could be described as racist and antiracist.

Further, Dr. Kendi challenges the idea that ignorant and hateful people propagate and are responsible for racism. Kendi shows how people in power, acting in their own self-interest, often create racist policies that make these powerful people more powerful, but the original intent is not to be racist – it’s self-interest. These racist policies, in turn, govern the majority of people and so these racist policies eventually lead to racist ideas to justify them. Those racist ideas eventually lead to ignorance and hate, but the ignorance and hate were not why the racist policy was created in the first place: self-interest is the culprit.

“One either believes problems are rooted in groups of people, as a racist, or locates the roots of problems in power and policies, as an antiracist.” – Ibram X. Kendi

In other words,
The words We think it goes this way with an arrow pointing to the right over four boxes that read, left to right, Ignorance and hate, Racist ideas, Racist policies, Self-Interest above the words It actually goes this way with an arrow pointing right to left

Applying Kendi’s Theory to Theatre

Understanding this chain of causation helps us understand why racist, misogynistic, heteronormative, neurotypical theatre perpetuates itself. Applying Dr. Kendi’s idea to the theatrical industry, powerful people, acting in their own self-interest, believe they will make more money by not challenging theatre-goer’s ideas. If straight, white, male, cis-gendered theatre constitutes “normal” by default, powerful people will continue to create theatre that conforms to that idea because doing so will make them more money. The result is that theatre goers routinely ingest straight, white, male, cis-gendered theatre, further reinforcing and confirming whatever racist cultural ideas they may have. These racist ideas are then put into practice as daily thoughts, actions, and belief systems, and those ideas lead to exclusion, ignorance, and hate.

In other words,
The words We think it goes this way with an arrow pointing to the right over four boxes that read, left to right, Ignorance and hate, Racist ideas, Racist Theatre, Self-Interest above the words It actually goes this way with an arrow pointing right to left

I am explicitly saying that when we create racist, misogynistic, neurotypical, and heteronormative theatre, we are creating theatre that perpetuates exclusion, ignorance, and hate.

The time is long overdue that we, as an industry, actively fight against that. It is not enough to say that we don’t do these things. We must passionately and actively do the opposite.

People instinctively turn to artists following catastrophic events. People are buying books again! They are binge-watching shows on Netflix and buying music streaming services. All of this content is created by artists, and we are more powerful now than ever. We shape consciences with the art we choose to make, and we must be conscious about the message contained in the art that we choose.

The shutdown combined with the biggest antiracist movement in our country in 70 years offers us a unique opportunity to create an enormous, positive change in the way we create theatre; to challenge ourselves to be radically inclusive and equitable. I would go even further and say that this is our responsibility. We must help lead the world out of this humanitarian crisis.

How can we do that? What ACTIONS can we take? Here are a few ideas:

  1. Give money to BIPOC, LGBTQIA+, neurodiverse, and female-identifying writers, lyricists, playwrights, theatre companies, theatre creatives, and activist organizations. Money is power and it takes power to create change. If you can’t give money; give opportunities. If you can’t give opportunities; give your time.
  2. Get on the board for a theatre company and make your voice heard. Run for office in one of the theatre unions with the specific goal to create antiracist policy change. When you are on the board, you help create policy, and policy is power.
  3. Hire non-white and neurodiverse theatre makers, women, and transgender artists for your team and listen to them.
  4. Eliminate tokenism. Diverse people need opportunities to portray fully realized characters rather than harmful, racist stereotypes.
  5. Theatre creators can ask themselves if the roles they are creating and casting need to be played by a specific gender, physical ability, or skin color, and if not, to leave the character description open. For example, instead of a character breakdown that reads, “Strong leading man, baritone to A4,” it could instead read, “Strong, grounded character with a good sense of humor about themselves who’s been kicked around by life but still believes in love.”
  6. Participate in antiracist theatre groups and encourage colleagues to do the same. The Asian-American Performers’ Action Coalition and the African-American Artists’ Alliance are a couple of great ones.
  7. Create an antiracist theatre action committee at your institution or if you can, create a position for a person who is the director of diversity, equity, and inclusion. Invite them to be part of your casting and season selection processes.
  8. Read antiracist literature and follow antiracist activists on social media.

What actions can you think of that we can take as a community? What changes can you make to become more antiracist? How can we overcome the obvious obstacles? For example, to produce more antiracist theatre that is successful, we will need people willing to see theatre that is different. That will not be easy. I recognize that this idea is fraught with seemingly insurmountable problems.

But I believe we can do it. I believe that we are capable of bringing about an equitable, diverse, and inclusive new normal where the theatre that we make represents our entire community. Will it be perfect? No. Will it be easy? No. Will we correct all the harm that has been perpetrated against our beautiful and diverse community? No. But we must try. This unique moment in time makes this a perfect time to begin to be the change we want to see in the world. I believe, like Dr. Kendi, that change is possible. I believe in the power of theatre-makers to change hearts and minds. I believe in my community. I believe that there are so many reasons to hope.

*Original Graphic idea from Toby Sinclari’s “Book Summary: How To Be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi – The 3 Big Ideas.” 21 June 2020.

Gwendolyn Walker is an Assistant Professor of Voice and Alexander Technique at Penn State’s BFA Musical Theatre program. She is certified by the Contemporary Alexander School and she maintains a busy New York City studio. Her students can be seen in most shows on Broadway today.

Teaching Tap Through Two Pandemics: How Empathy Illuminated My Path Forward – Contributed by Michele Dunleavy

By Michele Dunleavy
Professor of Dance, Penn State School of Theatre

Michele Dunleavy dancing on stag, red sleaveless dress, black background
Michele Dunleavy: Performance of 5/4 Ever,
A Tribute to the Life and Music of Dave Brubeck
at the Southern Theatre in MInneapolis, MN.
Photo by Aleutian Calabay

How do we prepare our students to enter into a system that is inherently racist while simultaneously decolonizing our curriculum?

How do we lead with empathy and still maintain rigor in an educational setting disrupted by Covid-19?

These are questions I have considered for months now, in part because of the pandemic and the reigniting of the Black Lives Matter movement, but also because they are valid questions under any circumstances, only now they seem more urgent.

SPRING 2020

Pavilion Theatre's stage at Penn State University Park Campus: Black stage set up with white square tap boards physically distanced in accordance with Covid-19 guidelines
Class preparation in Pavilion Theatre at Penn State,
University Park Campus: Stage set up with tap boards
physically distanced in accordance with Covid-19 guidelines.
Photo by Michele Dunleavy

Like so many of the educators I know, switching to remote learning was neither easy nor satisfactory from a pedagogical standpoint. We ended up doubling or tripling our work load with little to no idea if anything we were doing was even making an impact. I planned, changed plans, created assignments, canceled assignments, then added new assignments, as I tried again and again to polish the turd known as Zoom tap dance.

Most of us are aware that Zoom is not ideal because of latency in both sound and video, and that the technology is only as good as your internet service. As a delivery method for percussive dance, which utilizes both sound and movement, it couldn’t be worse, or so I thought. I’m not going to give you some sugar-coated story about how everything turned out well in the end and we all tap danced happily ever after into zoomtopia, but I will share with you some of what I learned about leading with empathy.

I changed my settings to help with the latency, then changed them back. I bought a webcam and proceeded to leave it in the box for weeks. I made instructional videos in advance of class meetings so that students could follow along if their internet was spotty or if they had to miss class. I watched body parts suspended in an on-screen grid execute tap steps while muted, dancing a full one to two beats behind the music playing in my basement ‘studio’. This is where I would insert the wide-eyed emoji that looks like it hasn’t blinked in a century to emphasize the absurdity of the situation.

While I haven’t asked any students directly what they took away from that experience, I know what they wrote in their assignments, emails, and SRTE’s. They were grateful for the days that I gave them space to talk; to speak their concerns, fears, and frustrations into the confines of that ever-shifting grid. They responded to assignments that demanded they walk away from the computer and listen to the rhythm of their surroundings and then to write and dance what they heard. For their final project we created a video where they got to vent their frustrations at Zoom University through tap dance.

I let go, begrudgingly at first and then later with more grace, to long held ideas about what I believed it meant to be a good teacher, a good student. Words like discipline and rigor that had been more guide than mantra, but ever present in my pedagogy ceased to hold sway over my ‘classroom’. It was liberating in ways I could never have imagined.

SUMMER 2020

Shot from behind: a crowd of people kneeling on the street in a Black Lives Matter protest in State College, Pennsylvania
Black Lives Matter march, downtown State College, PA.
Photo by Michele Dunleavy

Even before the death of George Floyd there were conversations in the dance community about equity, and representation. Conversations that proposed a new paradigm based on models of abundance not scarcity, security not precarity, collaboration not competition. After the death of George Floyd these conversations accelerated, and in the tap community the topic of history and attribution rose to the forefront. Black dancers began a movement to “reclaim the narrative of tap history”, defining tap dance as a Black art form and challenging the prevailing notion of tap dance as a product of “Afro-Irish fusion”. Current tap history texts were defended and contested daily on social media threads that tore at the fabric of my dance community. As I read and listened to the dialogue I began to interrogate my own beliefs, course content, delivery, and sources of knowledge. I began asking Black dancers what current history book they would recommend and their answers were revealing. One suggested I read the Negro Act of 1740; a collection of Colonial laws governing slave behavior, one of which made owning or playing a drum illegal. Another suggested Sammy Davis Jr’s autobiography, while others had no response. That shook me. I had prided myself on teaching the history of tap dance with an emphasis on its African American roots but I was quickly realizing the limitations of current literature and my own experience as a white woman.

Fortunately there have been many opportunities to listen and to learn. Webinars, discussions, and forums led by BIPOC dancers, educators, and theatre makers have populated my inbox and newsfeed. Two Black women who are making an impact in dance and theatre respectively are Karida Griffith, tap dancer and educator based in Portland and Nicole Brewer, freelance director, actor, educator and facilitator, currently on faculty at Yale.

FALL 2020

Michele Dunleavy dancing, crouched, on a tap board on state at the State Theatre in State College, PA
Michele Dunleavy performing in
Steel Valley Rhythms at the State
Theatre in State College, PA.
Photo by TM Grey Photo

By the time I landed in Karida’s online course Roots, Rhythm, Race and Dance I had already determined to step up my tap history game and had begun doing some alternative research based on queries made to BIPOC colleagues and friends. Karida has an extraordinary gift for metaphor. She expertly weaves anecdotal stories with hard facts drawing on current research in the social sciences, history, and her own personal experience. Her weekly ‘lessons’ provided multiple models for including the history of race in any dance class, at any age, skill level, or setting. Weekly Q+A sessions allowed participants from all over the globe to come together for discussion and develop and share lesson plans. While much of the course content wasn’t new it certainly filled in some gaps. More importantly, it helped me to organize my own work in a way that felt manageable. Previously, I had been so overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information, coupled with a false notion that I had to cover everything, that I often felt paralyzed. Completing this course was empowering, and I have enjoyed success applying what I learned in my current classes.

If Karida’s course was all about the nuts and bolts of doing, Nicole’s was the philosophical counterpoint. In her Anti-racist Theatre training, participants were tasked with completing worksheets that demanded more introspection and personal accountability. I was asked to state my own anti-racist theater ethos, describe my practice, identify ways to reduce, prevent, and when it invariably occurs, repair harm. Reflecting back on that workshop I remember Nicole stating that ‘the theater industrial complex is inherently racist’, and I thought yeah, but now what?

Early in the two-day workshop Nicole introduced the concept of ‘access needs’. I had no idea what that term meant, but others in the room were familiar. My working definition goes like this: access needs are what a person needs to participate fully and for learning to occur.

THIS. This speaks directly to my longtime conflict between rigor/empathy but it is also at the heart of an anti-racist practice. To consider access needs forces equity, not equality. Instead of everyone being given the same tools to succeed, each individual is given the specific tools that they need to succeed. To do this requires that we as teachers see all our students as exactly who they are and that we consider their lived experiences. This is where empathy and rigor can combine to provide a rich educational experience for all students. By ensuring that all have what is needed to succeed, standards can be set and met by everyone with expectations matched to the individual.

I still don’t have the answers to my opening questions but the common denominator seems to be to empathy. If I see and celebrate my students as they are, and continue to meet them where they’re at while simultaneously arming them with information about the history of race in dance, perhaps they will emerge from their time with me strong enough to say no to projects and roles that dehumanize and trivialize BIPOC stories. Perhaps they will shift the industry paradigm by telling their own stories. I cannot predict what path the world will take or how my students will shape our future. In the meantime, I hold these words by Maya Angelou close to my heart as I continue to evolve as a human, artist and educator:

“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PSU Ceramics and Social Action: Inaugural Bowled Over Initiative Launching to Address Food Insecurity

By Kris Grey, Visiting Artist and Assistant Teaching Professor, Penn State School of Visual Arts | with contributions from the Bowled Over student and faculty team

Poster/flyer for Bowled Over project with yellow checkered background featuring a tatooed arm with hand holding white ceramic bowl with blue decals filled with what looks like chocolate ice cream and another hand above holding a white ladle pouring what looks like marshmellow sauce with blue sprinkles onto the ice cream with some splashing out of the bowl. Text says Includes custom wooden box and stickers! Proceeds benefit clay coven at psi and The Lion’s Pantry. Bowls available for purchase online on Friday November 13th 2020 at www.claycoven.com

In January of 2020, the clay c0ven, PSU Ceramics department student club, hosted its second annual Clay Café at the Borland Project Space. Students transformed the gallery space into a meeting place fully stocked with handmade clay objects of every variation and function with a robust calendar of programming to entice participants. Warm and cool beverages were offered to the public for free and visitors were encouraged to use the handmade ceramic objects crafted by PSU undergraduate and graduate students.

Sandwich board saying Grab a cup and use a cup with four-shelf ladder style book case in background lined with ceramic objects

This is one in a long line of student-led community engagements projects, addressing issues of sustainability and the role of art in advancing social and ecological justice, that the ceramics department at PSU has initiated. Conversations during that week around food insecurity and sustainability efforts inspired students and faculty to go deeper with their activism.

According to a 2017 Feeding America survey, 13% of Centre County residents experience food insecurity, close to 21,000 people total.

Following the Clay Café, a new collaborative project playfully called Bowled Over started to take shape. Bowled Over is a social engagement project in collaboration with the SoVA ceramics area, the student-run club – the clay c0ven, and the support of Arts & Design Research Incubator at Penn State University. This is in line with Penn State’s broader “tackle hunger” initiative to address food insecurity across the commonwealth campuses.

Students designed and produced a limited edition series of handmade ceramic bowls for this project. Originally, plans were made to sell the bowls at a special event. Due to COVID-19 limitations, the bowls are available for purchase online this fall. Proceeds from Bowled Over will benefit The Lion’s Pantry and the clay c0ven.

Five white ceramic bows with blue decals on a white background with one bowl upside-down in the center Close up of the blue serpant, sun, moon, rain, and umbrella decal on a white ceramic bowl

This presented an actionable way for students to participate in the “tackle hunger” initiative addressing food insecurity among the Penn State commonwealth campuses. The pilot of the program was set to run this fall in conjunction with World Food Day on October 16th. Students and faculty in ceramics set our sights on bowl production for the summer of 2020.

Two months later, our worlds were thrown into chaos by the advent of COVID-19. The University Park campus entered lockdown. Students and faculty were ejected from our research and work spaces on campus and everyone braced for the terrifying unknown. In spite of a global pandemic, our student artists did what artists everywhere tend to do — showcase resilience and rise up to meet the challenges! Undergraduate and graduate students, Anna Graef and Andrew Castañeda, transformed a home garage into an offsite ceramic studio and began production for Bowled Over in the summer of 2020.

Rows of ceramic bowls of different shapes and sizes with two students making final touches during glazing process

This fall, when we were able to safely return to campus, the fragile, unfired bowls were transferred back to the ceramic studio where they could be glazed, fired, and finished.

Four shelves lined with glazed ceramic bowls of different shapes and sizes prior to firing Four shelves lined with white ceramic bowls of different shapes and sizes after firing

Second-year graduate student, Audrey An, designed a series of interchangeable decals based on drawings and images produced by ceramic students. Incoming grad, Harrison Boden, helped glaze and apply decals to the surface of the bowls and second-year grad, Austin Bradshaw, designed and milled custom wood boxes to house each of the unique pieces.

The result is a limited edition run of handmade ceramic bowls available now for purchase on https://clayc0ven.com/ where you can also view images from Clay Café 2020 and the 2016 Hand Candy: A Ceramic Lending Library.

White ceramic bowl with blue lettering Penn State Ceramics Lion Pantry with parts of the wooden container box on a white background

The Bowled Over Experience: Quotes from Students and Faculty

Shannon Goff, Associate Professor of Art
“Penn State Ceramics likes to lead with generosity, and so naturally giving back is forever on my mind. One sunny sabbatical afternoon in late January, a vision of clarity nearly bowled me over. A holistic cross college collaboration where ceramics students would design and fabricate handmade bowls filled with a limited edition flavor from the Creamery using herbs grown at the student farm. Proceeds from the initiative would support both the lion pantry and the ceramics area. This effort seemed in line with the work Kris Grey and I were already doing with the students to support Andy Goldworthy’s Red Flags project in NYC’s Rockefeller Center. Despite our excitement and commitment to what was becoming Bowled Over, we never could have expected a global pandemic. We weren’t willing to give up but scaled back due to Covid-19. Bowled Over is akin to an antidote for the coronavirus. It has been a joy to witness how the process has emboldened and bonded the students. We foresee Bowled Over growing and changing based on student’s interest in cross collaboration across the University and local area. We look forward to in-person events and scaling the project up to create even more community connectivity, engagement, and an even greater contribution to ending food insecurity in the region, all while making art accessible.”

Kris Grey, Visiting Artist and Assistant Teaching Professor
“Bowled Over has been a galvanising force; It’s helped us come together for collaboration and community building during very uncertain times. It’s given us a way to be productive and proactive locally. I feel incredibly lucky to be here with this amazing group of students and faculty who are making change tangible through art.”

Side shot of white ceramic bowl with blue decal of ice cream in a bowl with parts of the wooden container box on a white background

Andrew Castañeda, Instructor of Art; MFA 2020
“When I was approached to help with the Bowled Over project, the corona virus disaster was unfolding everywhere. It seemed like there was no escape from the monotony of quarantine. When Kris and Shannon proposed that Anna and I throw bowls for this community event, it was a way to give back and break the deadly cycle of watching YouTube all day. The process of making bowls is intimate, it is a dance. The clay moves, you react, and at some point you end the dance, stop and start again. The handmade bowls borne of this repetitious and meditative throwing process will go beyond helping my soul heal, and help our entire community.”

three students, two wearing masks and one with back toward camera, lining up newly created ceramic bowls

Anna Graef, BFA
“Working as a part of the Bowled Over team these past few months has been a source of relief and provided a sense of purpose for me. Shannon and Kris’s news of funding for this community engagement project coincided with coronavirus exploding, campus shutting down, our studio access ending, and a lot of uncertainty, specifically uncertainty regarding how to proceed as a ceramics student with no access to the ceramic studio facilities.

“Throwing bowls for this community engagement project gave Andrew and me reason to set up our own makeshift garage studio space, and reason to return to clay for a cause. The repetition of throwing so many similar, though not identical, bowls was an interesting parallel to the repetitive general monotony of quarantine life. Knowing that the bowls were destined to help our community, though, helped to make our bowl production feel more meditative and productive than monotonous or taxing.”

Animated gif of student making a bowl on the pottery wheel in her garage studio with car in background

Austin Bradshaw, MFA
“As an artist, we wear many different hats but by far the most important one is how we give back to the communities around us. Working on the Bowled Over project has been a truly humbling experience and I’m truly grateful to be a part of something much larger than myself.”

Overhead shot of white ceramic bowl with smal blue heart decals packed in the custom wooden box Six white ceramic bowls with blue decals on the left and one white creamic bowl with blue decal of ice cream in a bowl sitting on top of the wooden box on the right, white background

Audrey An, MFA
“The Bowled Over project offered another creative outlet for all of us. We all collaborated during each stage of making these bowls and offered individual creative assets we have other than our primary medium, ceramics. We have a wonderful group of artists who are all willing to give and serve one another. I always learn from my cohorts and am grateful for them both inside and outside of our studio time.

“One of my favorite parts during the production was the photo shoot we did together for the Bowled Over poster. We substituted real ice cream and syrup for terra cotta clay and white glaze so the ice cream would not melt but also to shout more of our love for clay. And a little bias involved, but I think the photos came out super fun! I enjoyed getting these photos from our photographer, Andrew, before finalizing the poster.”

Close-up of a persons arms and hands cutting sheets of blue decals with a pair of scissors in a ceramics studio Over the shoulder shot of red haired woman wearing mask and cutting out decals from a sheet in a ceramics studio

Harrison Boden, MFA
“For many of us as ceramics artists, we feel an overwhelming sense of community in how we interact with our peers. This project not only gave us the opportunity to become a stronger cohort, but also allowed us to use our abilities to serve those who are in need. I am so pleased, personally, that I was given the opportunity to help others move forward in their lives and look forward to future opportunities of service.”

Over the shoulder shot of hands placing the blue decal of ice cream in a bowl onto the white ceramic bowl

Images courtesy Andrew Castañeda

 

Teaching Ceramics in the Age of Covid-19: Meeting at the Intersection of Material Studies and Digital Culture – Contributed by Kris Grey

By Kris Grey
Visiting Artist and Assistant Teaching Professor, Penn State School of Visual Arts

Headshot of Kris Grey
Image credit Argenis Apolinario/The Bronx Museum of the Arts

When the global pandemic hit our University Park community last spring, classes in ceramics and other fields of material studies were tasked with continuing our research and our support for students in the digital environment. This brought into sharp focus our field’s reliance on physical spaces, dedicated equipment, and hands-on instruction. While it was challenging to make the change so late in the semester, it posed a new question for ceramics moving forward: how can we shift our instruction in the face of this pandemic to continue offering creative, engaging, inspiring, and potentially healing experiences through craft-based activities in digital space?

Yihang Hua, Little Creatures, 2020, Claymation video from Summer Art 080 Introduction to Ceramics course at PSU

In addition to my work as the Visiting Artist and Assistant Teaching Professor at Penn State School of Visual Arts, I maintain a professional practice in the expanded fields of ceramics and performance. In the wake of the global pandemic, most of the exhibition, teaching, and performance opportunities I had scheduled through 2021 were canceled. This left me with a deep sense of grief and loss that compounded parallel feelings I experienced about friends and family across the world who were struggling with the health and financial impacts of COVID-19. Thankfully, I was able to secure summer teaching at PSU and I set out on an emotional journey to redesign our curriculum for our Art 080 Introduction to Ceramics for non majors course to be delivered fully remotely.

Yan Yan, Life of Green Onion, 2020, Claymation video from Summer Art 080 Introduction to Ceramics course at PSU

In the introduction to our summer syllabus I wrote,

“COVID-19 has temporarily altered the way we offer instruction in material studies and visual art. This summer, we will cover the same material as any intro to ceramics class but in an altered digital studio environment. This will change your physical experience with some ceramic processes. What remains constant is a focus on looking at art and the world through a ceramics and craft-based ‘lens’. This class is designed to be educational, informative, experimental, and fun! I look forward to our collaboration and I welcome your active feedback throughout the course.”

I opted for a collaborative tone at the outset in order to involve the students in their own learning.

Rachel Kim, Requiem of the Ballerina, 2020, Claymation video from Summer Art 080 Introduction to Ceramics course at PSU

Meeting, as we did, at the intersection of material studies and digital culture, I chose to teach a brand new module in stop motion animation using colored clays, colloquially referred to as “claymation”. To my knowledge, PSU ceramics has never engaged students in claymation projects. I had the full support of acting ceramics area head, Shannon Goff, who received the 2020 President’s Award for Engagement with Students at PSU, and also Tom Lauerman, whose own studio work synthesizes digital fabrication strategies and traditional craft techniques. With their blessing, I then turned to a personal friend with whom I studied at the Maryland Institute College of Art in the early 2000s. Meaghan Ross is a miniature prop and set fabricator based in Los Angeles, CA who has worked in television and film on a range of projects including Robot Chicken, Moral Orel, Flapjack, and Anomalisa. Outside of class time, I interviewed Ross and created video content to deliver to my summer students to inspire and instruct on techniques of model making and animation. To prepare for the instructional delivery, I connected with Liz Miller, Director of Creative Projects at ArtWorks in Cincinnati. ArtWorks is an award-winning Greater Cincinnati nonprofit that transforms people and places through investments in creativity. At Miller’s invitation, I was able to attend a showcase of youth artists’ stop-motion animations aptly titled OUR NEW NORMAL, created in collaboration through a remote summer program.

Justin Rossi, Canappleism, 2020, Claymation video from Summer Art 080 Introduction to Ceramics course at PSU

On our last day together, the class screened the final animation projects and had facilitated critique discussions on each of their entries. The result was an incredibly complex, emotional, delightful, joyful and humbling experience for all of us. A selection of student claymation work is featured throughout this post. I hope you enjoy them as much as we did working together to produce them over the summer of 2020. The students asked me if this was a regular part of the Art 080 Intro class experience and I told them it was entirely new and that their class was the first. They emphatically urged me to continue teaching this particular module and it became a point of pride for all of us; a symbol of how extreme duress can yield innovative solutions that result in growth, positivity, and connectivity!