POINT OF VIEW

Cristina Pinton

I work with my students over the course of four years, watching them grow in and outside the classroom. Once they learn the skills, they begin to let go. As they gain the language of the pencil, camera, ruler, cursor, and paintbrush, they move more gracefully through the process of authentic creation. This is a privilege I donʼt take lightly. Their growth in both confidence and the ability to communicate their personal stories is evident in their artistic voices as well as in themselves.

And yet, so many of my students begin by asking a question: “What do I do next?” The answer may be literal or conceptual. It may be that they aren’t listening or are unwilling to make a move unless I assign something specific. It may mean that they haven’t been able to reach inward yet or are unable to hear their own creative desires swirling deep inside their heads.

My response typically reflects my belief that their genuine selves will emerge if they follow their intuition. What pencil color should go in that abstracted shape? Just go for it—don’t overthink it. What direction should the lines move? Take a moment and follow your hands.

For students who fear making the wrong choice, I offer a safety net by scanning or photographing their work midway so theyʼll have a version of their work before that “scary event” takes place. (It never does.)

So when it came to a photography assignment with a group of AP Photography students who were caught up in what a “good” photo should look like, I decided to help them think outside the box. I asked them to take a few self-portraits, which took several classes to learn how to do. I also had them answer a few reflective questions about memorable moments—an experience with a person who means a great deal to them, a childhood event that they still find significant, or a moment they were hurt emotionally.

Next, students photographed objects or collected images from previous assignments that connected to their reflections. I printed these photos on thick, matte inkjet paper and provided tape, glue, and scissors. I asked them to rip, cut, and recombine their images. When students hesitated to make the first rip, I demonstrated how to do it with precision. When they were unsure how to combine pieces, I told them they could experiment with tape, staples, yarn, or thread to reattach the pieces. They created several versions, reused ripped pieces, printed more images, and made high-resolution scans of their final collages.

What unfolded from this group—initially very fixed in their ideas about “good” photography—was a series of images and choices that expanded their creative possibilities. Students advocated for their own stories and led the direction of their self-portraits. By opening the gates just enough to offer support while allowing freedom to experiment, I allowed students to discover that their decisions were not random, but intuitive and essential to their artistic voices.

Cristina Pinton has been teaching art for over twenty-five years in public and private schools in Connecticut and Massachusetts (and abroad!). She has been leading the visual art department at an all-boys high school for more than fourteen years. A national presenter, AP art studio reader, and teacher of the year for Connecticut in 2019, she thrives on and through the artistic journeys of her students. pintonc@avonoldfarms.com