Today I began my second series of classes called Art for the Soul. The two students who were in the first series are doing such advance sophisticated work I am awed. Just awed. The two new students are a bit overwhelmed by the internal self critical voice thing.
I am the least judgmental art teacher I know, so at least it's obvious to them that it's internal. We're working on it. I'm pretty sure that before the 5 classes are over, they'll be WAY looser.
Tonight we had dinner at Burnett Thompson's. We met him maybe 20 years ago when he played piano nightly at the West End in Georgetown. One night at midnight he sat and talked to us. We were griping about whatever - something about being artists. He told us that, in contrast to most Washingtonians who live empty lives of (paraphrasing) quiet desperation, we in the arts live rich and interesting lives. And we were (!!) not to forget that!! I never did.
So twenty years later we actually got to hang out with Burnett and two friends, and talk about art, music, and life. Not a "solution" to the art oppression that is everywhere around, but hey - person to person stuff is the real thing! Same as with my art students. Somehow - the real thing.
Burnett is a mensch. I love that word. It means a particularly good human.
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