Here. Now.

Here I am holding this,

Little boy in green zipped up froggy jamas.

Who wants to nursy,

And just wiped away my kiss.

Tells me he loves me, and Lava girl

As I serve them both macaroni.

I am informed that Hercules used to be a spider, but now he's a boy.

Hercules is strong, and so is he.

They both are good boys.

Especially mine

Who just got a coin for his be-good piggy, "Shineya."

He tells me stories of Shark boy and Lava girl and how he saved the day.

My little super hero

Who wants a piggy back ride.

And as we mark his growth 

On the back of the door

He announces that he is growing fast

I want to slow down time

 

Rhythm and Bleat

If it hadn't been for the bones 

we passed around the circle that night

Fire crackled and flared by the cliff side 

The little gypsy girl pointed to the sky

It was shooting star

Quietly, I sang a tune, alone

Sitting cross legged, Bo gave a sigh

His fingers gently plucked the guitar

The mother began to hum

Just lowly at first, and then high

Treetop swayed 

and a flute began to play

Chris's hand slapped onto the skin

A repetitive thump and swish

Of palm, fingers and thumb

Little gypsy danced, arms in the air, 

Skipping, wind in her hair

I took a deep breath

And the voices joined in

The rhythm of the drumbeat quickened

Our song was loud

There was a sound in the distance

Then in silence we listened

What was that strange sound

It wasn't a howl or a bark

No bird made that noise

Slowly and quietly, we began again.

A chant and a whistle, a song and a hum

circled around cracking flame and spark

Gradually, our voices raised 

to the beat of a drum

Then again in the distance,

from somewhere down in the revene

That sound we heard earlier 

from deep in the dark 

surrounded by aspens 

It wasn't an owl or even a wolf

That responded to the music 

of our campfire scene 

It wasn't a hoot or a howl 

but more of a grunt and a bleat

That joined in to our song 

at the crescendo of the drum beat

Each time we heard it 

in silence we'd listen 

What animal it was, we never could tell

Because the response to our silence,

Was silence as well.

Resume

Jessica S. Harris

Objectives

To work teaching art being active with youth and in a community setting while continuing to develop my art portfolio.

Education

Bachelor of Fine Art received from Humboldt State University in December 2003.

Interests

I enjoy a wide variety of arts and crafts, such as painting, knitting, jewelry making, and working with textiles. I am interested in becoming involved in community activities, such as working with youth. Creating and promoting my art.

Professional Accomplishments

Teaching Art

Currently, I teach art classes at the Essex Art Center in Lawrence, Massachusetts. Since I began teaching at the Essex Art Center, I have taught various mediums including,pottery on the wheel, drawing, painting, printmaking, sculpture and art history.  I have had students between the ages of 3-adult. My primary class is pottery on the wheel for children over the age of 10.

Through the Essex Art Center, I have also taught art for the Middle school girls of the Esperanza Academy.  www.essexartcenter.org , www.eperanzaacademy.org. Teaching art for the Esperanza Academy girls was very rewarding work. I taught them all mediums of art including art history. I began teaching for Esperanza in 2007, working with 6 grade girls and I continued with the same group of girls until they graduated from 8^th grade. I also taught 6th grade girls beginning September 2010 ending in April 2011 due to the birth of my son.

I have been teaching art classes for the Worcester art museum since March 2008.  I teach a variety mediums and methods and my students are between the grades k-8.  I have also worked “off site” going into Worcester public schools to teach art after school. I inspire students with the museum’s rich art collection whenever possible. This work gives me a wide range of experiences working in the community. Through this program, I have taught at public schools, churches, and community centers. Through this program, my youngest student was 3 and the oldest was 83. www.worcesterart.org

I also taught art classes at the Danforth Museum School since spring of 2007. My students ranged from kindergarten to middle school ages. I worked mostly with clay and three-dimensional art, ranging from general sculpture classes to pottery on the wheel. www.danforthmuseum.org

Additional Work

-      Mark’sgarden and Gifts in Watertown, Ct from spring until summer of 2005.  Assisted customers with gardening needs,specializing in trees and shrubs.

-      I have worked seasonally at Smolak Farms on and off for several years. I worked in their bakery cooking large batches of doughnuts,cleaning, and assisting the bakers as needed.

-       Worked as sales associate for 3 months at Clay’s, a family owned chain of women’s clothing boutiques. Assisting customers, maintaining a clean and organized store, designing displays and sales promotion.      

-       Worked as a server for Friendly’s restaurant in Framingham Before relocating to Webster, Ma.   Nov-Dec. 2007

RecentEmployment History

☼    February2008- Present Employment; Teacher at the Worcester Art Museum

☼     55Salisbury Street, Worcester, Ma 01609 - (508) 799-4406 www.worcesterart.org

☼     April 2007 – January 2009; Teacher atthe Danforth Museum

☼     123Union Avenue, Framingham, MA 01702-8291 — 508.620.0050 www.danforthmuseum.org

☼     January 2006 – Present; Teacher at theEssex Art Center

☼     56Island St., Lawrence, MA 01840 ♦  (978)685-2343 ♦ www.essexartcenter.com

Referencesare available on request.

A strange dream that I had last night

A woman is in labor on a dirty sidewalk near a disgusting garbage can.

She stands and leans on the garbage can, the baby is coming quickly. I rub her back and tell her to breathe. Suddenly, I see the baby's head and almost immediately, I am able to catch the baby in my arms. I am wearing a pretty soft and delicate white shirt that I take off and wrap the baby with in and give it to its mother. There is a rude fat lady standing nearby smoking a cigarette and I get very angry that she would smoke so close to a newborn baby and a woman in labor. She refuses to stop and we argue loudly. The woman is a nasty bitch. 

The mother of the baby calmly comes over and tells us to stop arguing. She has something else to wrap her baby in and she gives me my shirt back. I notice that my pretty soft white shirt is stained from the baby's birth, but I don't care, I just put it back on.

Then, suddenly I am a student again and I am with one of my old college professors. (She was an Art History and a Women's Studies Professor and she was my advisor and one of my main mentors in my college education. I miss her.)

We were sitting by her computer in her office that was packed with wonderful books discussing the classes that I needed to take.  A science class which would be a challenge. A women's studies class that I was very excited about. A religious studies class that I dreaded because I hated the teacher. 

Occasionally, during our discussion about my classes, I would inquire about the newborn baby and the mom would come into the room and say that the baby was fine and taking a nap. At one point, while wearing my white shirt that was stained from birth, I came to look in at the sleeping infant. I am happy to see the baby sleeping so peacefully all wrapped in clean white blankets laying in a bassinet. 

All the while, I am also feeling stressed about all of the classes I have to enroll in for the upcoming semester. 

A Blessed life.

"Every child is an artist.  The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up."  ~Pablo Picasso

My life is  blessed. 

I am blessed because I am an artist. I am an emotional person and being able to express myself through art is a blessing for sure. I feel that the creative process is a highly spiritual experience. Art is something that has brought joy into my life and been a wonderful source of stress release. Often the creative process serves as an escape for me when life gets tough. 
I was the product of a teenage romance brought up by a single mom. Our life together has been filled with both struggles and joys. My relationship with mom has not always been easy. As a young teen I wrote a poem expressing my feelings about my mom, saying that she was my best friend and my worst enemy at the same time. I still feel that way today. Early in life I discovered that creating was a way for me to express my feelings and have a release in a relationship that has always been a challenge.

I have a mother who is strongly feminist and practices Wicca. I am blessed to have a mom who has influenced my life in such positive ways. I began identifying as a witch at a very young age. I felt the mysteries and power of being a woman and the magic in nature and I took pride in my sexuality.
All of these things reflect in my artwork. Love, passion, anger, fear, sadness, weakness, power and magic are all themes that have inspired me and continue to today. 

I am blessed with a family that freely fed my creative spirit throughout my life. I was given art supplies and always praised for my creations.  I am blessed to have a mom who taught me printmaking when I was 11 fueling my passion for art and giving me another avenue to express myself. I have been hooked ever since. Printmaking is a process that involves thought and preparation. I have found that just the process of creating art is sometimes a spiritual experience in itself. Artistic process on it's own is a form of meditation. It is a way to connect with myself, quiet my mind and find creative focus.

My love of clay began as a young child. I played imaginatively making mud pies with my imaginary friend, Johnny from the mud pile. I still insist that Johnny wasn't imaginary and that mom just never met him. (Johnny was sometimes mean to me. Why would I invent a friend that was mean?) 

In high school clay class mud pies became beautiful hand built creations. I tried working on the wheel, but at that time I was unsuccessful and totally intimidated. At that time I did not have the patience to focus on pottery because I was young and a free spirit who wanted to play with friends and explore the world. 

My free spirit has brought me many places in my life and in my travels. 
Being creative has always helped me find peace.  

Living in California, I encountered several challenges. With the help of my amazing blessing of a Grandmother, I was eventually blessed with the opportunity to go to college. Studying art was the only option.

As an eager art student on the first day of printmaking class, I tried to score the job of lab attendant. Bill was annoyed at first, but not for long because I soon had the keys to the room and Bill and I became friends. I spent hours alone in the printmaking lab creating art. I am blessed to have had such great artistic mentors in my life.

In college ceramics class I got back into working with clay and with much determination I finally conquered my fear of the pottery wheel. My passion for mud pies has only grown. There are many times in my life when I am going through stressful times and I sit down at the wheel with a ball of clay and my stresses all fall away. I say that centering clay on the wheel is centering in more ways than one. You have no choice but to be calm. You must literally and figuratively stay connected with yourself. You must be stable.

a quote from Centering In Pottery, Poetry and Person by M.C. Richards
"Centering: that act which precedes all others on the potter's wheel. The bringing of the clay into a spinning, unwobbling pivot, which will then be free to take innumerable shapes as potter and clay press against each other. The firm, tender, sensitive pressure which yields as much as it asserts. It is like a handclasp between two living hands, receiving the greeting at the at the very moment that they give it. It is this speech between the hand and the clay that makes me think of dialogue. And it is language far more interesting than the spoken vocabulary which tries to describe it, for it is spoken not by the tongue and lips but by the whole body, by the whole person, speaking and listening. And with listening too, it seems to me, it is not the ear that hears, it is not the physical organ that performs that act of inner receptivity. It is the total person who hears. Sometimes the skin seems to be the best listener, as it prickles and thrills, say to a sound or a silence; or the fantasy, the imagination: how it bursts into inner pictures as it listens and responds by pressing its language, its forms, into the listening clay. To be open to what we hear, to be open in what we say...."

I like working with clay, no matter what the method is. It is a very spiritual art form. What could be more spiritual than creating something from earth itself? All four elements take part. 
Clay is earth. Water softens the clay, Air dries it and Fire finishes it making it beautiful.


When I am teaching pottery class, these are the things I often tell my young students; Stability is your friend. Be connected with your body. Don't be intimidated by your neighbor, everyone learns at different paces. Determination is your friend, keep trying and let yourself make mistakes.  How did you learn how to ride a bike? You fell off. Everyone falls off their bike, but you wouldn't know how to ride today if you didn't get back on and keep trying. Get back on the bike. I feel that it is good advice for learning to do pottery but good for life in general.

My job as an art teacher is a blessing. Teaching gives me the ability to share my passion with others. I have had students as young as 3 and as old as 83. Primarily, I teach young people. My students bless my life in many ways. I find that young people are very rewarding to teach because they tend to judge themselves less harshly, they take pride in the process and they are enthusiastic and full of life. The spirit of youth is uplifting and infectious. 

Teaching is a blessing to me giving me a positive focus. This summer, on the first day of pottery class, a 6 year old boy who was a student in one of my spring classes was in the art center for another class. He visited my class three times while I was teaching saying thank you and being sure to hug me before leaving for the day.  I remember the beautiful soap dish that he made in my class and how proud he was when I complimented him on his work. That sort of thing makes me smile. It is so rewarding to feel that I made an impression on a young student.
Even on those days when I am having a rough time, I return home from teaching in a better mood.

For the past few years, I have gone through some difficult times in my life. I have struggled with finances, an unstable relationship,a stressful living situation, and many other uncertainties in my life. I wished and prayed for a baby for years until I came to believe it would never happen for me. I was sad about that but not ready to give up and I was in the doctor's office to discuss possible fertility treatments when I found out that I was pregnant. I was so filled with joy that I laugh cried my way home. however, soon after, I suffered a terrible heartbreak. Once my son was born, I found myself learning how to parent as a single mom. 
I continue to face difficulties in my life, but I turn to a variety of ways to manage and get a mental vacation from things that wear me down.

Since my son was born, I find that getting to time create is not as accessible as it used to be, so teaching has been even more valuable to me. When I am unable to create or teach, I find myself spending a lot of time in the garden in order to get a mental vacation. Working in the yard is another form of creative energy that gives me something to be proud of and brings me peace of mind.   

My life is blessed. Most blessed because I am a mother. I created a life. It is the most challenging and the most rewarding experience a person can have. It is truly magical.

I am blessed with the most beautiful, smart, funny, rambunctious son that a mama could ask for. 
I always wanted to be a mama and after a long time of believing that I never would be, my boy is proof that if you ask the universe for something enough times, sometimes you will get what you ask for.

November 10th, 2010 the day that I found out I was pregnant was one of the happiest days of my life.
It  blessed me and changed me forever. I am a completely different person than I was on November 9th. 
My son challenges me and blesses me every day. Some days he wakes me up telling me that I am beautiful and wonderful and he loves me and there are moments like the other day when he slathered himself up with an entire tube of A&D diaper ointment while I was rinsing out a diaper.  He keeps me on my toes for sure!
I was talking to someone while on the subway in Boston with William one day and I mentioned that I am a teacher and that is how we get into the aquarium for free. Well, William repeats everything I say and he said, "I am a teacher." The lady said, "Oh, what do you teach?" That was when I said, "He teaches parenting."

My life is blessed. Blessed through a creative spirit, good family and friends, with many great experiences and adventures, wonderful teachers and inspiring students. Blessed with a love of nature and a garden to work in. I am definitely blessed to have a little man named William in my life. 
My life has certainly has not been easy.
My life has definitely been blessed.

This poem reminds me of my busy toddler son.

Noise Day By Shel Silverstein 

Let’s have one day for girls and boyses
When you can make the grandest noises.
Screech, scream, clang a bell,
Sneeze– – hiccup– – whistle– – shout,
Laugh until your lungs wear out,
Toot a whistle, kick a can,
Bang a spoon against a pan,
Sing, yodel, bellow, hum,
Blow a horn, beat a drum,
Rattle a window, slam a door,
Scrape a rake across the floor,
Use a drill, drive a nail,
Turn the hose on the garbage pail,
Shout Yahoo– – Hurrah– – Hooray,
Turn up the music all the way,
Try and bounce your bowling ball,
Ride a skateboard up the wall,
Chomp your food with a smack and a slurp,
Chew– – chomp– – hiccup– – burp.
One day a year do all of these,
The rest of the days– – be quiet please.

For the love of Clem Dog

Clem Dog was given to me when I was just a baby girl. I don't know how old I was, but I swear that I remember him being given to me by my Aunt Jane and Uncle Tony. I have this vision of my Uncle Tony crouching down to give him to me. I remember the soothing sound of Uncle Tony's voice as he introduced me to my new friend and the feeling of his warm hug. I also remember a small book that came attached to Clem with a story that was read to me several times by various family members. It is crazy that I have such vivid memories of receiving Clem because I was so young when he came into my life.

I'm sure that no one back then could predict that I would still own Clem at the age of 37, never mind that he would repeatedly be the subject of my artistic creations. I first used Clem as inspiration for beautiful drawing while studying art at Humboldt State University. That drawing of Clem is in a sketchbook that is currently trapped  in a box somewhere in my mother's basement. I hope to set him free some day soon and have him properly framed and displayed. 

While I was in my first college printmaking class, I learned the method of reduction style block printing, and Clem was the subject of my first of many reduction prints. In that assignment, I was required to use primary colors plus black and white. The result was a vibrant image of my dear friend, Clem.

My immortalization of Clem has touched the life of at least a few.

My sweet cousin for one, and recently, one of my prints sold from my etsy page to someone whose husband also loved a Clem dog as a child. Following is the story that I was sent about why they wanted to buy my Clem art after I inquired if they had received him safely.

Hi Jessica,

Clem sure did. My husband's favorite toy as a child was Clem.  My pug mistook it for one of his chew toys and destroyed it.  My husband was devastated.  I gave your print of Clem for his birthday today and he just loves it.  Clem is in my husband's office and it makes him smile when he sees it.  I love the colors you chose.  Clem looks like a superhero.

I had no idea that a simple image of a beloved childhood toy would be so appreciated by others. Until I saw this....

Oh the horror!!!! 

I am so happy that my dear old friend Clem is still with me to be played with by me and my adorable son William and possibly be the subject of more artistic creations to come.

Before writing this tonight, I did a search to see if I could find the little story book that he came with. I was unsuccessful, but I did find a web page with several sentimental posts from people who loved Clem as well his brother and sister, Clyde and Clara.
http://www.inthe70s.com/toys/clemclydeandclara0.shtml

As it turns out, Clem Dog's spirit lives on in my art and in the hearts of many.

What I crave most

I crave....
A place of my own. Somewhere that I can create a home for myself and my wonderful son. Space to decorate, hang curtains, maybe a crystal or two, display my art, make a mess, play and have fun.
A place for creating, drawing, painting, printmaking and my wheel. To center in more ways than one. My very own kitchen to stock with foods that I choose, cook meals for my son.
A laundry room with nothing on top of the washer or dryer and a functioning clothesline for non rainy days. An organized and efficient recycling system so I can live life as green as possible.
Yesterday, I learned about keeping composting worms  that  make homemade fertilizer for the garden of my dreams.
A safe space outside for my boy to play in the sun.

A place where I can relax and have some fun.

Affordable, quality childcare for my son. 

More work doing what I love, creating and teaching. 

Is all that too much to ask for?