Even when I am not in class, I spend the most time on campus in the painting room on the fourth floor of the AEH. When the elevator opens on this floor, the first thing you are greeted by is this beautiful mixed media painting on the opposite wall. Oil painting demands a lot of time and we're required to spend time outside of class working on paintings. In this room, I often run into classmates who are working on their own personal projects. The room is often quiet, with few distractions, other than the sound of sawing from the wood shop next door. It's a rather large room, with plenty of light. It smells like linseed oil. It's quite dusty. Often I am surrounded by people working, but if I'm lucky, I have the room all to myself.
I took this photo last week on a really nice day. While we were scouting locations for an Urban Intervention, there was a class sitting in front of the library. It looked like they were having a discussion outdoors. Personally, I think this is a difficult way to have lecture because there are so many distractions and not much space to sit down. If you look behind Jess, the students look pretty uncomfortable. The space is typically used to go from one place to the next, and many people don't stop here unless it's to rest on a bench. But typically it's one or two people. To see such a large group in one place together was different.
When we visited the Jane Addams Hull House as a class, I was really drawn to the silkscreen prints hanging in the library by local artist Nicole Marroquin. A recent addition to the Hull House, these silkscreen prints tell the story of a student-led demonstration by the students at Harrison High in 1968 that was broken up by local police.
These largely Chicanx students felt they were invisible and did not see themselves in the Euro-centric history they were being taught. The faculty and staff were also majority white, and only spoke English. I feel like this kind of rhetoric should be encouraged in school, and children should feel safe. Instead they were beat over the heads with billy clubs while staging a protest in their own cafeteria. The students belonged there, not the policemen. The students negated their invisibility by reclaiming their school and education.