Posts Tagged ‘Art’

52C interview 1 and 2 with Maya

July 8, 2015

Interview with Maya Jones 1

Maya tell me a little about yourself

I love to draw. People, how they stand and sit and such. All their faces are different, and I like to draw their faces showing different emotions.

Animals, especially cats and dogs. But rabbits, birds and horses are good too.

You tend to draw realistically.

Yeah. If I show my drawings to someone I wanted them to know, recognise what I have drawn.

What drawing materials do you like to use?

I think a 3B, or maybe a 4B pencil is my favourite. You can go light or dark. But I like to have different pencils. Hard pencils like HBs are good for little details. The softer pencils are good for hair and 8Bs for dark areas. I also like watercolour pencils, for colour. I’ve seen this art pack that I really want.

What is in this Art pack?

Lots of different Art stuff. But I am dreaming if I think I will ever get one.

Can you tell me why?

Cause! Look I have to go now. Can we finish this another time?

Yes, Maya I am always here. take care Maya

Interview 2 Maya

52C…Welcome back Maya, you have found a pleasant shady spot. Heh! What’s the matter?

Maya…I hate school.

52C…Has something happened?

Maya…Nothing special just the same old thing. Teachers were pointing out in front of everyone how dumb I am. How I can’t spell or write proper sentences. It’s not fair I try. I don’t know what goes wrong. I want just to draw, but then I get into trouble for doodling. That’s why I come here, because I know I won’t see anyone.  I don’t know why people don’t like it here, but I’m glad for my sake.

52C…I am glad you like to be here. Other than no-one else comes here, is there a reason you like being here?

Maya…Cause it’s interesting. Where ever you look there are views I want to draw. Say over there, where that big tree creates a deep shaded area. When I look there, I see the subtle differences between the texture of the tree’s bark, what looks like an old moss covered statue and the ferns. On my right, near the path, there are many different colours and shapes. Such as the different yellows and reds of the flowers, they each have their special green leaves. And all of this sounding the multicoloured little-tiled seat. It all makes me very excited. 

52C…I see you have you sketch book with you.

Maya…Yes, I came here to do some drawings and get away from people.

52C…Can I see some of your drawings?

Maya…It’s a new sketch pad, so I only have a few very quick drawings. Except for the drawing of the mother and baby giraffes. I did that drawing at the Zoo last weekend. I would have liked to have done more drawing of other animals. But we were there for my little sister’s birthday, so I had to help watching my sister’s friends that no one got lost.

52C… I’ll leave you to draw now; we can chat more another day. If you’d like that.

Maya…Yes, you’re easy to talk to. But I feel strange talking to a block land.

52C… I’m more than a block of land…………

52C…I can see why you like to draw; you have talent. Do you like making things?

Not as much as drawing, but I make Birthday and Christmas gift for people.

52C…Have you seen the masks on my veranda? I think you would find some of them very interesting.

Yes, I’ll just finish this drawing then I will have a close look at them.

reflection of my past

September 20, 2012

When I think back to my days of school, I shudder with horror at how I and others were treated. We were different and our difficulties were not understood. We were often labelled as lazy, stupid and daydreamers.

We could articulate clearly with the spoken word (I was in the debating team for most of my high school years), however, when we were faced with the written word the text before us became a visual landmine. It took immense time and energy to decipher, comprehend and respond to the text.

I am in the process of writing a series of fiction for upper primary/lower high school children. One of the children will be based on me.

I would like some feedback on the following opening to one of my stories. Does it create the feelings of a child with Dyslexia.

I sit staring ahead, my chest is tight and I feel sick to the very pit of my stomach. I hear others around as if through a fog and they move around me in slow motion.

Ms Wright comes towards me with the papers in her hand.

My heart is bounding and body is trembling.

I would give anything for the next moment not to happen, never to happen again and again and again.

Ms Wright drops the papers on my desk and as they float down symbolically reflecting their lack of substance.

Ms Wright says “Ah, such a disappointment, Ann you could try and make an effort, instead of daydreaming and doodling.”

I feel every pair of eyes are looking at me and from behind hands pretending to cover mouths voices are spilling out “Ann’ so dumb”, “she even had extra time” and “how embarrassing to fail all the time”

I look down at the papers covered in red and feel my checks matching.

 I hear the bell ring and feel bodies moving past me, but I feel trapped, imprisoned in a mind that will not function as it should, as I want it to, no matter how I try.

Ms Wright packs up her books, looks at me and slowly shakes her head, then walks out the door following her students.

I look again at the papers and try and make my eyes understand the shapes they see. I look up at the doorway where the others went and wonder how they can so easily read and understand what is written.

I look again at the pages which are now becoming damp from tears that fall.

I shudder as I think of Mum and Dad’s faces when they see these papers. The money they have spent on special classes, which I hate and are just like the lessons at school, so they don’t really help.

“Stupid, the bells gone, you can go home now” says some giggling girls as they pass the doorway and see me still sitting there.

Maybe they are right and I am stupid, but there is some part of me that feels angry and knows that I am not.

 


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