ISSUE 4 | JUNE 2014
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ethos M A G A Z I N E EDITOR IN CHIEF Eugenia Wan
EDITOR IN CHIEF CREATIVE DIRECTOR Eugenia Wan Kenji Tang CREATIVE CREATIVE DIRECTOR Jessica Sinclair Kenji Tang
Justin Cheung Katerina Spinos CREATIVE Katya Lo
Jessica Sinclair FASHION Justin Cheung Kayley Cameron Katerina Spinos Katya Lo Anika Sum Hannah Fraser Jeremy Ng FASHION Vikeerti Mahtani
Kayley Cameron Anika Sum Hannah Fraser Jeremy Ng Vikeerti Mahtani
FEATURES Sakina FINANCIAL Abidi MANAGER Victoria Cherrington Ernest Cheng Kuhu Singh Lee Phillips Meagon Peoples COVER
Kayley Cameron
FINANCIAL MANAGER Ernest ChengCONTRIBUTORS
Amanda Thorsen
COVER Amy Tao Kayley Cameron
CONTRIBUTORS Amanda Thorsen Amy Tao Ms. Andrea Dryland Jake Wong Katya Lo Maarya Refaaq Stephanie Lee
Ms. Andrea Dryland Jake Wong Katya Lo Maarya Refaaq Stephanie Lee
Supervisor FEATURES Ms. Sara Ellison Sakina Abidi Victoria Cherrington Lee Phillips COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER Meagan Peoples Pooja Antony SUPERVISOR Ms. Sara Ellison
WWW.ETHOSZINE.COM/ETHOSMAGAZINE ETHOSZINE@GMAIL.COM WEST ISLAND SCHOOL’S LITERARY AND ARTS MAGAZINE
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CONTENTS
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the growth issue
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CONVICTION; DEEP BELIEF Sakina Abidi
POETRY PROSE MY DAUGHTER WHEN I VISIT 11 08 Kuhu Singh SHE’S GONE Stephanie Lee FEATURES ENDURANCE THE HOUSE ON A HILL 10 Anonymous LETTER FROM 24 Eugenia Wan 03 THE EDITOR LIFE IS A LEARNING Eugenia Wan 14 EXPERIENCE Anonymous ART BASEL 2014 PLASTER 04 Eugenia Wan 15 Anonymous 17
FLOWER PHOTOSHOOT
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PROLIFÉRE
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PERSEPCTIVES WITH MR. STANLEY
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INNOCENCE Amy Tao HERE’S LOOKING AT YOU, KID Lee Phillips SAYING GOODBYE Anonymous
letter from the editor A
s adolescents, growth is something that we experience everyday. In the most literal sense, it comes in the form of seemingly everlasting growth spurts that bless (or curse) us with new height and disproportionate limbs. For those of us permanently stuck at 5 foot 4 (i.e. me), growth refers more to intellectual or personal development. In this issue of Ethos, our exploration of growth coincides with the late arrival of spring and the not-so-sudden transition into the blistering heat of summer. There’s nothing like a little pathetic fallacy in the changing of the seasons to accompany the growth that we experience as young people, which is showcased within these pages. Our fourth issue delves into the significance of growth in the modern era, examining how technology has affected the way in which we capture moments and appreciate beauty. With the advent of social media, capturing and sharing moments of our everyday lives is easy and frequent. However, such snapshots are often superficial and fleeting. Working with Katya Lo and Maarya Refaaq in our pastoral editorial “The beauty of growth’, we define what photographs should capture: not just the brief beauty of a blooming flower, but also the process of maturation. Similarly, we sought to highlight the cultural ancestry and uniqueness of our models. Of course, nature only represents a very literal interpretation of growth. In true Ethos fashion, we striveds to explore the theme from other unconventional perspectives. Thus, this issue also examines the growth of the art industry, particularly the local scene in Hong Kong. In an article spotlighting the 2014 Art Basel exhibition at the Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centre, I discuss the exhibition and noteworthy artworks that showcase the evolution of art into its contemporary form. Growth is very much a perpetual process of intellectual development, and this is apparent in the villanelle ‘Life is a learning experience’, whereby an anonymous poet marvels at the pursuit of knowledge, understanding and sophistication that is evident in mankind and across species. On the other hand, Stephanie Lee’s ‘My daughter – she’s gone’ mourns how quickly children lose their innocence, and reflects on the implications of gaining an awareness of the world around them. Similarly, in Kuhu Singh’s poem ‘When I visit’, the persona reminisces upon her adolescent years, pondering the unknowns in our life journey. In the feature ‘Perspectives’, Mr. Stanley reflects on the development of our school, its students, and his personal growth in the field of art. As I travel through the pages of Ethos’ first issue under my leadership, it is impossible to forget the skills and the experiences I have gained from being a member of the editorial team, and the personal growth that it brought about. This issue is a continuation of our effort to showcase the growth of the school community and its creativity, and whilst this issue focuses on continual growth and improvement, I hope that we can all take a moment to remember that it’s not just about the act of growing, but what we choose to learn from it. Sincerely,
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ART | BASEL
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What Can You Do With Space? Art Basel answers this question quite simply: art. In. On. Around. You put art in the space, make art on the space, display art around the space. Art Basel 2014, hosted at the Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Center, consumed three floors of exhibition space for five days in May. It featured contemporary artwork from around the world, with a strong focus on Asia and the Asia-Pacific regions, spotlighting native cultural influences from countries such as Australia, New Zealand, Hong Kong, Mainland China, Taiwan, India, Indonesia, Japan, the Philippines, Russia, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, South Korea, Taiwan and the United Arab Emirates. The pieces often blurred and challenged the boundaries between realism and the abstract, many exploring geometric shapes, interesting textures and a variety of mediums. Art Basel also displayed sculptures and three-dimensional paintings; as well as minimalism. There were four main sectors: Discoveries, Encounters, Galleries and Insights. Each exhibited a particular style of artwork or artist.
Discoveries presented the works of younger Encounters showcased large scale artworks, artists across the globe with solo- or two-person exhibitions. The 25,000 USD Discoveries prize was awarded to Nadia Kaabi-Linke. One of her pieces covered the floor and a wall, with lines seeming to be randomly placed. Upon closer inspection, the lines had the names of countries inscribed along the side; Kaabi-Linke states that “the lines represent exact measurements of isolation cells all over the world”.
reconsiders social and communal memories and relationships, featuring 17 works from artists such as Miyanaga Aiko, Marta Chilindron, Gu Wenda, Kishio Suga and Atelier Van Lieshout. One interesting installation was the circular table tennis table, Lee Wen’s ‘Ping Pong GoRound’, where visitors could play table tennis and interact with each other and the artwork. ethos || 55 ethos
Galleries was the main sector of the exhibi-
tion, spotlights 171 of the world’s leading modern and contemporary art galleries. A noteworthy piece was a tapestry titled ‘The map of truth and beliefs’, which depicted religion and systems of belief around the world, where visitors from countries across the world can engage with it. This piece truly embodied Art Basel’s spirit of cultural diversity.
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Lastly, Insights was dedicated to curatorial
projects by 47 galleries with spaces in Asia and the Asia-Pacific region, providing an in-depth overview on art from across the region. Tatsuo Kawaguchi, one of the most influential Japanese post- war conceptual artists, was featured in a solo show by Gallery Yamaki Fine Art.
Art Basel also showcased legendary artists such as Picasso, Modigliani and Chagall, as well as a very contemporary ‘Instagram Wall’ installment for all visitors to share their experiences using the hashtag #artbasel. Perhaps the most provocative piece was a life-like sculpture not seeming to belong to any of the sectors by He Xiangyu, featuring an immaculately dressed Ai Wei Wei lying face-down on the floor. Regardless of whether or not you thought it was art, or whether it was shocking, hilarious or thought-provoking, Art Basel has proven yet again that there are an infinite number of possibilities when you have an empty space.
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When I Visit
END OF THE DAY Kenji Tang
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like the coloured speckles in a white light, i used to fit just right in with the other girls. we wore our blue plaid tunics with collared shirts and we just knew that we were to hate our knee-high socks. school meant order, and we were not to try to break out of the discipline. i suppose, looking back at it now, we never truly hated where we found ourselves. I don’t hate it now. there were things we weren’t to do, that Matron didn’t allow. but we shared between ourselves the disaster, the blame, of being caught. so it was easy for the terror to be outweighed by our thrill. i admit that there even was a spark of irritation in me when i was first shaken awake in the middle of the night. but it was quick to drown out in the buzz of the chatter that soon followed. i found that staying up late after the lights went out eventually became a habit; i grew to love those conversations. put simply, i learnt to love myself. there was no magic here, it was too rough to be created from the fabrics of a fairytale. but it was through these rocky, unpolished lines that i learnt to toughen up without losing much warmth. there was no choice but to open up my real, true self. we had seen each other in tears of both joy and grief, in smiles both genuine and forced, in promises both kept and broken. we had known each other completely. we were accepted. we belonged. i belonged. But when I go back to visit, I cannot help but notice what has changed. My memories don’t match what I see; this is not exactly what I remember. I suppose they fit like puzzle pieces from the same movie but a different scene. Like a sheet that has been torn or creased so that there is a blemish in all of my familiarity. Maybe there are some strings that once connected me but have now begun to fray. Far, far away in the future, maybe I’ll even forget what seems so solid to me now. See, I don’t know how life moves on. I don’t know if it means discovering and understanding, finding what has always been there in you. I don’t know if it means changing and forgetting, establishing new priorities to make new beginnings. But I do know that it’s inevitable, so I can’t choose not to find out. Kuhu Singh
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Endurance Ghosts sit heavy on tall shoulders drawn down Memories sit sharply beneath a frown Words that watch me lie down indifferently Caress my sleep like a mother, gently Like rain upon a horizon they wait With eyes, that stare blindly with unjust hate They pull me in close, smother me with hugs And weigh me down with their undeserved love I treasure them gently, and bear the attack And wait for the day when I can stare back
AMBIENCE Kayley Cameron 10 | ethos
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HOLD MY HAND Kenji Tang
MY DAUGHTER She’s Gone The rain battered down the cherry tree and the little blue swing that hangs. The tattered wood blocks, twisted hemp rope that I measured and cut so carefully, remind me of the pain of so many years that have passed. I stand by the window to watch. The world is a blur of waterworks. Built when my daughter was still young, the flat piece of wood that makes up the seat was once an abandoned prize, found while on my final evening rounds, clearing out the trash bins. I brought the piece home with me;
and every night, after my little girl was asleep, I would paint, saw, and polish it for her. All the while longing to leave her memories she would treasure, working bit by bit, so that she could look back and remember. That was all. It was completed on the summer of 1982, when my daughter was five. From that moment, a life had been lighted inside it. When I pushed her on that swing, she would yell ‘higher, higher’. The innocence of her childish laughter would bounce and echo in my heart. But my daughter left two years ago.
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On the last day of primary school, I watched her step on stage to receive her ‘best student’ award. Face beaming at me right up until she rushed into my arms, and burying her smile into my already greying hair. In that school assembly hall, stood a proud father, reveling in the pure happiness and success of his daughter. All these years in school she’s excelled, I bought her children’s story books to read, for hours, lying on her belly on the trimmed grass of our garden, so she would stay ahead. But on that thirteenth year of her life, she learned one thing that brought her heart away from me, and I lost her forever. Her father’s illiterate. Never before had she considered that anyone, let alone her own father would not know how to read or write, never before had she known what it meant to be ashamed. She’s such a smart girl, how could she not feel betrayed? One day, she told me she wanted to walk to school herself. One day, she stopped hugging me when she came home. One day, a few years later, on that noiseless winter night, she packed her belongings, turning out of the wooden door of our small hut for the last time, never looking back — not once. A faint glow comes from her house a few streets away, though all I can see is her scorn. The rain continues to fall onto my window, one drop after another, and the little blue swing hangs.
Stephanie Lee
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LIFE IS A LEARNING EXPERIENCE In life we gain experience Day by day we grow and we thrive Learning in all life’s brilliance Flowers, their homes in variance Adapt, forgo evolution In life we gain experience Cheetahs run fast, go the distance To hunt and survive in life They learn in all life’s brilliance. Turtles have shells the best defense Which will protect their softer core In life we gain experience Toddlers, may seem oblivious But they learn and grow everyday Learning in all life’s brilliance The teens and grades go hand in hand Tired faces but they don’t realize In life we gain experience And learn in all life’s brilliance Anonymous
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I’LL NEVER STOP Kenji Tang
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Plaster I wake up, get ready, wash my face, brush my teeth look in the mirror. Ask myself why? Wipe my face with a towel, look in the mirror. Why am I so sick? Change my clothes, brush my hair, look in the mirror. Why am I so sick? Sick. Sick. Keep your chin, keep your chin up. Don’t fall down, don’t fall down. You can do it. Gasping for air, screaming out, I feel embarrassed. Why am I so gullible? My inner being is so vile, twisted and hurt. I hate it. I hate lies. How can I trust anyone? Worry about me, worry about you, worry about them. Pick me up and hold my hand I miss you. I miss talking to you, your Italian singing, your clumsiness, watching you while you water the flowers. I miss you. I loved how you hid red wine from her, how you cared for her, how she cared for you. How she cared for you when you got sick. I got worried and then we all knew it was his time I cried at how he hugged her goodbye and whispered softly to her ears “Danke”. Then he was gone. I will never forget that. Smells remind me of him or where he grew up. Memories that make me smile, laugh and cry Some memories I keep to myself. Locked up in my head My heart is broken Plaster my broken heart. Anonymous
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Just like a flower
cannot live without water, nature always comes hand in hand with growth. A flower’s beauty stems from its blossoming, from unfurling outer layers of its petals, bringing to light its inner pulchritude. The same is true of us.
EugEnia Wan flower Vikeerti Mahtani
THe beAUTy of
{
f l o W E r s as s y m b o l s
GROWTH
beauty spring youth gentleness rebirth hope
innocence peace ethos | 19
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sTYlisTs Kayley Cameron Anika Sum PHoTograPHEr Amanda Thorsen MoDEls Katya Lo Maarya Refaaq Ms. Andrea Dryland assissTanTs Hannah Fraser Jeremy Ng Vikeerti Mahtani
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INNOCENCE
As children our mouths were flung open gates Sounds, words, phrases and sentences alike In a fast fluid motion All leaving freely at will Without any hesitation Without any filtering of speech And now? As children our eyes were windows to our souls Eagerness, shock, sympathy and confusion alike In the form of widening and sparkle Evident to all viewers Without any concealment Without any darting looks And now? As children our faces were wide open books Joy, disappointment, excitement and impatience alike In the form of smiles and frowns Clearly inscribed upon it Without any false nonchalance Without any impassive masks And now? Amy Tao
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The House on a Hill
CHANGING OFSEASONS THE SEASONS CHANGING OF THE Kenji Tang Kayley Cameron ethos | 25
B reathe in. Breath out. Repeat. Her senses awakened. She breathed in again, deeply, immersing herself in the aroma of freshly ground coffee, the gentle rustling of the leaves as the breeze danced through them, the humming of an engine as it –-
Her eyes open as the car soaks her in muddy water as it races down the street. The child rises from her position on the pavement, slowly gathering her few precious belongings, all of which were now drenched. Shaking the golden brown leaves from her damp overcoat, she wandered down the street with the neat and identical houses lining each side. A young woman stood watching from the window of a house. Pale. Drained of life. Her large brown eyes shone, radiating a light that was of an unearthly nature. Her hand reached out towards the window, towards the girl. Her lips moved, but no sound escaped. The child felt her presence and turned around. But the child saw nothing. The house was not there. --She was no longer a child. She lay on a bed of snow, barely moving, but still breathing. She just lay there. Her breath formed little clouds in the frosty air. Her cheeks were hollow, but her eyes were alive, like warm liquid chocolate. An air of ignominy surrounded her, suffocating her. The young woman sat on a tree stump, watching. She was colourless, lifeless. Her large brown eyes shone, but this time, with tears. But no tears fell. Her arm stretched towards the girl, wanting to stop her. To explain. The girl felt her presence and looked around. She saw nothing but a towering tree, branches bare, blanketed in snow.
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--She sought no help. She wanted nothing. She cried no tears. She had no fears. Just this air of ignominy, surrounding her. Suffocating her. She wandered between the trees in the orchard, eyes downcast. Breathe in. Breath out. Repeat. She breathed in, losing herself in the fragrances of the blooming flowers. Though older, she never failed to stop and drown herself in the fragrances of the world. The young woman was following close behind, lips moving constantly. The silence around them overwhelmed the sound of the young woman screaming the same two words over and over. The girl felt her presence and stopped to listen. She heard nothing but the song of the birds and the dancing of the trees in the wind. She turned around. Brown eyes meet brown eyes. One pair looking into itself; the other into thin air. It was as if the young woman was looking into a mirror. The same flowing hair, the same face, the same eyes‌ But the girl saw nothing. The young woman continued her mantra, only to have silence escape her lips, to have her words fall on deaf ears. --Their journey ends. The girl and the woman become one. Once more, the young woman is sitting in her house. She sees the neat and identical houses on either side of the street, on the other side of the hill. She sees other children walk outside her window, with small bouquets of flowers in their hands. She runs to the door, wanting to call out to the children, to explain, to warn them. Her lips move, but no sound escapes. She goes to sit on her doorstep, to watch the world in its never-ending motion. Always in pursuit of something. Unlike her. The illusion of her house shimmers and vanishes in the rays of the setting sun. Her lips move, but the words won’t escape her lips. The words were behind her, written in stone beneath her name: complectere viam (embrace your path) // memento mori (remember that you are mortal)
Eugenia Wan
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Here’s Looking At You,
Here’s looking at you, kid My father says, As I take three cards Off the top Of the deck. His stupid grin, Poking holes in my Airtight poker face. As I finally lay down Two fives, a three, A seven, a nine, Next to his Royal Flush. 28 | ethos ethos | 28
But my stack of chips grew, He let them tower Far Over his. And many other things Have graced That green felt table. Four score Essays, Math tests, And more musings Than I can count. Followed by proud smiles Hair ruffles And more terms of endearment Than I can remember But one day I’ll sit round a poker table again, all on my own, I’ll pick up Three kings All with stupid grins Who tell me to go All in. “Because you’re better Than you think you are Honey” They whisper, I listen. Foolishly. So I push them all to the center, My precious chips, And watch As my stack is cut down As life takes my chips away. As everyone else’s stacks Tower over mine. Lee Phillips
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Saying Goodbye Goodbye sounds under their breath, Ringing soft and sweet, From mouths puckered with soft distress. Tears sit prettily upon their cheeks And slip silently away, Past smiles pleasantly bleak Her eyes gazed towards mine, Opaque in this light, And shuddered as they looked aside. Distance sat quietly before and behind Pushing them closer, Preserving this time. Goodbye rang gently upon our ears Tolling the end, before fading into the years Anonymous
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conviction; deep belief for every man who has told you to burn promise and forget forgiveness, there is a woman who will teach you that realism is not the same as pessimism. you are jaded and cynical and broken and you have let strangers tell you that hope is delusional. hope is not blind. hope is holding on, fighting the good fight, hope is strength, because bravery is seeing it through even when nothing is in your favour when the smoke is all that is left to inhale, hold your breath and dig or die trying but do not exhale. cut every privileged who dare tell you to give up. burn the roads you crawled through. light your candle in the dark. you are neither hero nor villain. you are growth; you will thrive, you will be okay. Sakina Abidi
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P R O L
I F É R E
AQUARIUM Kenji Tang
FLOWERS IN BLOOM Kayley C ameron
FALLEN LEAF Kenji Tang
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UNDONE Katya Lo
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MIRAGE Kenji Tang
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TRAVELS
Jake Wong
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TONIGHT Kenji Tang
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TIMELESS Jake Wong
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AMBIENCE
Kayley Cameron
WALL OF LIFE
Kayley Cameron
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Vikeerti Mahtani
Kayley Cameron
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FOLLOW MY PATH Kenji Tang
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perspectives perspectives
WITH MR. with Mr.STANLEY Stanley
a
s someone who has been with the west island community from the beginning, mr. roger stanley has witnessed a plethora of change and development happen. we talked to him about change within school, advice to his younger self, and hornby’s “a long way down”. how do you think growth linkS back to weSt iSland School? In terms of achievement - I think it’s easy for me to look back and see how this school itself has grown. Because of course, when I came here originally we were at the old building in Mid Levels. I came in ‘92, and we moved into this building in ‘94 - quite a long time ago - 20 years ago, this September will be the anniversary of this school building. apart froM the actual Move, in what other wayS haS weSt iSland changed? They opened this school in ‘91 with Year 7s, so in ‘92 we had Year 7 and 8, and in ‘93 year 7 and 8 and 9 and so on and so forth. It took 7 years to establish a full range of year groups, and even then there were very low numbers. It was difficult to offer a wide range of A levels. what’S an iMpreSSive change you’ve Seen in weSt iSland in the laSt 20 yearS? The major change was the sheer increase in numbers. We had a school that was very containable, apart from the fact that we had a limited number of year groups, we only had 4 dynasties in each year group, and a maximum class size of 24. Originally we didn’t have Qing, and we didn’t have Yuan. Yuan was the first extra one to be introduced in around ‘95. That’s been the most noticeable change: the school has gotten
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so much more bigger. It’s quite dramatic in terms of growth. Do you think younger you woulD have expecteD to go on to teach art? I always did a little bit of both [PE and Art], and I was always happy to do both. At West Island, my job was always to build up the art department, and I got the head of faculty job (the job Ms. Dalgarno has now), plus the area of PE; PE and Art was one faculty area. It was quite a large faculty to be the head of. I think I handed that over to Ms. Dalgarno in around 2004 or 2005. I realised at that point that I wasn’t particularly enjoying observing other teachers and analysing exam results and justifying the development of subjects. I was much more interested in teaching art. what’s your favourite thing about teaching art? I think that the amazing thing about teaching art is that you’re surprised - there’s something quite astonishing almost every day. It isn’t that you finish chapter 13 and move on chapter 14 - it doesn’t follow that type of direction; it moves around, and sometimes you go back to the original
starting point and look at things from another perspective. That’s one of the quite incredible things about art! what iS your favourite period of art? I think there are two periods which I would say are very important to me. One is when art reached its highest level of learning and progress in the Renaissance - the late 1400 to early 1500s - there were was some quite incredible things happen that I think still impact the art of today. I think that I would also come up to current times - 2014 - because what happens with art is what happens to your life; you respond to the materials, the opportunities that are available. I think that art changes with everyday. if you could give our whole School one piece of advice about the world outSide of high School, what would it be? It would be to believe in yourself. if you could give one piece of advice to your younger Self, what would it be? To be mindful of unintended consequences. Steering froM wiS, how about your background? I grew up and trained in the UK, and at the time there were two routes to becoming a teacher: one was to go to university and do a post-graduate year of teaching, and the other way was to do something called “Teacher Training College”. That was the route I took. When I was youn g I used to play a lot of sports, and I effectively got (what would be called in these
days) a scholarship, to go and study in “Teacher Training College” in the county where I was being educated. So, I got an unconditional offer to go and study at Alsager College. I played rugby and athletics at the time. what’S a book you’ve read that changed your perSpective on how you See thingS? [Nick Hornby’s] ‘a Long Way Down’. It’s about a group of people who meet on a rooftop, without any knowledge of each other with the intention of jumping off the roof. It made you see, or it made me see, the world through other people’s eyes and they actually save each other and they agreed to meet in the future. So that was write an interesting book, because it highlighted the need to look away from your own perspective and look away from your own intentions and troubles, whatever they may be, and try and see the world through other people’s eyes and be appreciative of different cultures and ideas. what’S one thing everyone needS to hear at SoMe point in their liveS? I think that people need to hear that they’re appreciated, that they’re loved and that they’re important to other people. do you have a Motto to live by? [Laughing] Yes! To believe in myself, and I do. interview by Eugenia Wan Sakina Abidi photgraphy by Kenji Tang
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