Women of Wednesday--There Have Always Been Women Artists

I've profiled several artists for the "America's Notable Women" series. These women were able to create art despite social nonacceptance. It was not until the mid-twentieth century that they were able to make their way into the art world. They moved from "gentle ladies" who could paint china, or do needlepoint, to artists.

Nowadays gender makes no difference--art is what is made by an artist.

There have always been women artists, and lest we forget, here is a short video I found on YouTube. It shows the work created by women over hundreds of years.



Imagine how much richer the video would have been if all women who were so inclined had received the training, support, and the freedom to create that their male contemporaries received!

--Diane

Mentor Monday--What to Read Next?

If you're a writer of fiction, you must be a reader. You should read extensively in the particular genre (mystery, contemporary, speculative, fantasy, etc.) you wish to write in. But sometimes, you draw a blank. What to read next?

There are online places to go to for direction. All you need is the title and author of a book you've read and liked previously. You can look for either adult or children's books.

What Should I Read Next? is an easy to remember site! It's recommendations are based on those of other readers.

The Book Seer gathers its recommendations from Amazon and Library Thing. What I like about this site is the wise advice, "Of course, you could go ask your local bookshop or your local library."

At tastekid there is a definite "young adult" feel to the site. The search engine is named "Emmy" and is represented by a cute little Japanese manga character. Emmy suggests not only books, but also music and movies.

For the above three sites I used The Giver by Lois Lowry as my test. Not every suggestion made sense. Here are a few examples: Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, The Polar Express by Chris Van Allsburg, and The White Rose and the Swastika (Oxford Modern Playscripts) by Adrian Flynn.

Another place to look for suggestions is NoveList, an EBSCO product. Check your local public library to see if it offers this great database. One of its search options is "describe a plot." This can come in handy if you've read a book and can no longer remember the title, but you want to read something similar!

--Diane

Photo by Marco Bellucci

Poetry Friday: The Flu

Is anybody else having as many swine flu conversations as I seem to be having? I know several people who are struggling with whether or not to have their children immunized. I'd roll my sleeve up in a heartbeat if the vaccine became available. I'm too old for the nasal mist, and apparently there are not enough shots for even those folks whose health puts them at risk for great complications. I guess my only defenses are to keep washing my hands and then crossing my really clean fingers.

I'd like to offer The Flu by J. P. McEvoy for Poetry Friday. It rings as true today as it did when it was first published in 1919.

THE  FLU

by J. P.  McEvoy 

When your back is broke and your eyes are blurred.
And your shin-bones knock and your tongue is furred,
And your tonsils squeak and your hair gets dry,
And you’re doggone sure that you’re going to die,
But you’re skeered you won’t and afraid you will,
Just drag to bed and have your chill;
And pray the Lord to see you through
For you’ve got the Flu, boy,

You’ve got the Flu.

When your toes curl up and your belt goes flat,
And you’re twice as mean as a Thomas cat,
And life is a long and dismal curse,
And your food all tastes like a hard-boiled hearse,
When your lattice aches and your head’s abuzz
And nothing is as it ever was,
Here are my sad regrets to you,
You’ve got the Flu, boy,

You’ve got the Flu.

What is it like, this Spanish Flu?
Ask me, brother, for I’ve been through,
It is by Misery out of Despair,
It pulls your teeth and curls your hair,
It thins your blood and brays your bones
And fills your craw with moans and groans,
And sometimes, maybe, you get well —
Some call it Flu — I call it hell!

Today's Poetry Friday is being hosted by Elaine at Wild Rose Reader.

Rethinking the Pigeon

I was late coming to the Mo Willems appreciation party. Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! made me shake my head in the kids section of Barnes and Noble the first time I read it. I didn't get it. I understood that the pigeon, singularly focused on its ridiculous goal, represented a preschool-aged child. I knew the pleading, begging, bargaining, whining, foot-stomping, petulant pigeon was supposed to be funny, but I wasn't laughing. The bird left me cold.

I put the book back on the shelf and kept leafing through new titles. I didn't think of Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! again until it showed up in the pages of Scholastic's Firefly Books flyer one month. Since I buy any book recognized with a Caldecott that shows up in Firefly, I used my teacher reward points and ordered Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! I read it again when the book arrived, and my original opinion didn't change. If anything, I was maybe even a little bit more disgusted. Why, I wondered, did this book win a Caldecott Honor? It will only encourage this Willems fellow to continue polluting the picture book market.

I shelved the book and didn't give it much thought until this past Monday. One of my students brought a Mo Willems book for Sharing Day, which is kind of like Show and Tell. I hadn't read The Pigeon Wants a Puppy!, but based on my reaction to Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!, I wasn't expecting to like the book. Of course I was right. I didn't like it. I loved it. If I was handing out starred reviews, I'd have given it 5 stars.

How could this be? Have I no convictions? I don't like the pigeon. At least I didn't before. I'm a total fan now. Could it be because I think dogs are the best thing since white go-go boots, and if the pigeon likes dogs the pigeon must be okay?

I needed to see if this was a fluke. I pulled Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! off the shelf and reread it. Oh, my God! What a great book! And the bird is actually kind of charming. What happened? Why am I suddenly a Mo Willems groupie?

It took fourteen 4-year olds to open my eyes to the wonder of Willems. Instead of zipping through the text silently, I read the books out loud to my students. The kids were instantly engaged in both of Willems's books. They were actually dialoging with the pigeon. They were invested in not letting the pigeon drive the bus. They were pointing out the holes in the pigeon's arguments. Puppies don't play tennis, for Pete's sake!

When I finished reading each of the books, all fourteen kids called for an encore. So we read the books twice, and they were just as much fun to read the second time around. In fact, the kids want even more Mo, so I'm heading to the library right now to check out any other pigeon books that Willems fellow was encouraged to write when he won that Caldecott Honor.

Before I go up to the Harvey-Mitchell Memorial Library I have one piece of advice. Resist the urge to judge a picture book after a silent skim through the pages. These books are meant to be read aloud as surely as song lyrics are meant to be sung.

Poetry Friday - The Erl King

In keeping with the creepy classic theme, I'd like to offer up the Erl King, by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

The Erl-King

Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
The father it is, with his infant so dear;
He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm,
He holdeth him safely, he keeps him from harm.

"My son, wherefore seek'st thou thy face thus to hide?"
"Look, Father, the Erl-King is close by our side!
Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?"
"My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain."

"Oh come, thou dear infant! Oh come thou with me!
Full many a game I will play there with thee;
On my strand many flowers there blossoms unfold,
My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold."

"My Father, my Father, and dost thou not hear
The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?"
"Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives;
'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves."

"Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?
My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care.
My daughters, by night, their glad festival keep,
They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep."

"My Father, my Father, and dost thou not see,
How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?"
"My darling, my darling, I see it aright,
'Tis the aged grey willows deceiving thy sight."

"I love thee. I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!
And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ."
"My Father, my Father, he seizes me fast,
Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last."

The father now gallops with terror half wild,
He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;
He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,
The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.

~~~~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Today's Poetry Round-up is at Biblio File
Art by Albert Sterner ca 1910