Swimmer, Artist, Educator

+  2 March 2011  +


SWIMMER. ARTIST. EDUCATOR. They are the three words I use interchangeably, at my discretion, and when context warrants it as self-description. My combined years of experience as an artist, swimmer, educator surpasses the 50 year mark. And in 2004 I found myself having combined my years of experience as an educator and a swimmer in an unprecedented circumstance I had no previous preparation for of knowledge of. Curiosity was an innocent driving force here. What did I do?

In 2004 I began to teach children and young adults of special needs to swim. Autism, Asperger’s Syndrome, Cerebral Palsy, Delayed Development, Down’s Syndrome, Mitochondrial Disease were the most frequent cases I dealt with on a daily basis at a small yet totally functional indoor therapy pool where I had the pleasure of meeting these individuals and their family members. These children and young adults ranged in age from four to mid-teens.

It was the many cases of autism that resonated with me the most. Autism Spectrum Disorder, or ASD, is as its name implies, speaks of people who live with varying degrees of autism: low functioning, high-functioning, verbal, non-verbal, and so on. They also have varying degrees of social, bodily and neurological development. Because they all exist on a vast spectrum, no two cases are identical.

The individuals I had the pleasure of seeing once a week for a number of years were at first meeting as uncertain of themselves as they were of the water environment and me. Together, over a period of time they, and I forged a bond, a friendship that enabled us to learn from each other. And most importantly they learned to trust me, the water and themselves. I was their swim teacher. But it was they who taught me a great deal about what its like to live with the circumstances they live with and how they respond to and are affected by the same world that surrounds them as it does it me. Their situations challenged me to rethink and expand my role as an educator. Over a period of time we developed a most profound and at times poetic vocabulary of communication with each other. At times I would often say I am interacting with artists and poets—people who have different and expanded perceptions of the world. Neither right nor wrong, just different. And definitely not to be ignored.

I no longer have the swim lesson instructor position I speak of. I moved on but, can not, nor will not forget what happened between us. I know for a fact that i am a better person and certainly a better educator because of the time I spent with people of special needs.

“PR 230”

2008

The drawing that I chose to accompany this blog was created by me in 2008. It was inspired by a five year old boy who lives with autism, whom I worked with for several months. On more than one occasion his swim lessons included the game of finding the floating “Q's”. The “Q's” were only visible to he and I. It was our special and exclusive dialogue.

Our worlds briefly came together accidentally and by happenstance. But we had no illusions about the depth of that intersection.

The Seventh Day of Capricorn in to the New Year

“PR 144”

2004

+  8 January 2011  +

The seventh day of Capricorn in to the new year
I can not think, nor swim, nor sleep, nor dream
My eyes are filled with tears
I’m forcefully given these castrations of life
Should I now only live and maybe sink into the trenches of regarded fear?

My night time swim, my noon time swim
the early morning ones too, me in the nightlight, me in the sun
Those swims are not now alongside me
I am really not sure where to go
Or what I am now supposed to do

The water remains still without me there, to enjoy and embrace
That's just a way for me to describe a simple dive
A world away, with only a short drive where the air is warm
And no shivers in my spine
Oh Capricorn, here we go again, you pushed me over

Capricorn, you angered me,
the air turned suddenly cold when you spoke, the ground shook
Without a whisper, conflict and anger tells me you are now here
Capricorn how dare you have your say
Just seven days in, in, in to the new year

I thought I deserved, or earned my moments in the water
To be alone and rested and relaxed with reserve
So the unpleasantries might stay away
Oh Capricorn you brought them back to burn through me
Again on the seventh day.

I thought about the sorrow and the grave
When you were buried such a long time ago
But I know Capricorn you'll forever deny what forever shall be mine
If only I could forever silence you and make you stay away.
A way. Way away.

20 + 10 = It was a year of living

+  31 December 2010  +


= Twenty and ten.

= It was a year that commenced with multiple bowl games, a vial of Vicodin and a kidney stone. A month later, the kidney stone was surgically removed. Who knows where all of that Vicodin went. <

= It was a year of witnessing my wife became a casualty of downsizing on the same day she learned that she was invited to Delaware in the fall to deliver a paper at a conference. Months later she was at the conference. ≠

= It was a year of learning when friends invited me to help complete the construction of two condo buildings in Berkeley, California. As a determined and spirited rag-tag construction team what we did not know about the use of construction equipment , "code", materials and resources and tools, we learned. We learned quickly and we learned well. And what we did know we shared for the benefit of our fellow workers. It was communal spirit big time. We built four condos, a green home environment for future condo owners whom we will probably never know. We took pride in our accomplishments. Was this a case of building to live and love, or of loving and living to build? Or both? >

= It was a year of living when my urologist receives from his son two of my pool drawings that he bought as Father's Day gifts. >

= It was a year of living when my wife receives a job offer after six months of unemployment and she prepares to return to work. >

= It was a year of continued swimming. >

= For Kathryn Bigelow and "The Hurt Locker" it was their year. Awesome. >

= Old and young dogs can and do learn new networking tricks. It was a year of applying for many jobs, writing countless cover letters, revising resumes, developing new job search strategies, exploring avenues to promote myself as an artist and educator and preparing for an interview or two. The accumulated applications and rejections stack a mile high. <

= It was a year when when my drawings and photographs were exhibited not once, not twice, but three times in the Bay Area. >

= It was a year of meeting someone for the first time as a fellow construction worker (see Berkeley condo project), only to learn that she would die before summer's end doing something she truly believed in: cliff jumping in Italy with her Brazilian husband. Thank you Allison for your presence and friendship during the course of the Berkeley project. <

= It was a year of losing 20 pounds of body weight. Or was it ten. Or was it 20 + 10? My BMI also dropped. I am now officially at "at weight" status. <

= It was a year of learning of another side of Donald and Doris Fisher's lives, founders of The Gap clothing chain. The Fishers built an amazing collection of modern and contemporary art. A portion of their massive collection was on view at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. What a stunning philanthropic gesture on the part of Donald and Doris Fisher. During the course of the exhibition's run, I practically lived at SFMOMA. San Francisco rejoice for what the Fishers and SFMOMA have done—Close, Diebenkorn, Guston, Hockney, Kiefer, LeWitt, Martin, Richter, Thiebaud, etc. Way to go SFMOMA. >

= It was a year of keeping Joan Baez Sr. continuously entertained, with or without my pants. And for her I did a dance on a stage. The sans pants idea was hers, not mine. The dance on the stage was the play director's idea, not mine. Don't ask for the pants and dance details. ≠

= I have not produced any large scale drawings for a few years. But it was a year of completing one, and creating another large scale pool drawing 24" x 36" in size. Along the way I did a few smaller pool drawings. >

= Goodbye. It was a year of saying goodbye to a very bad and embarrassing dietary habit I have had since my teenage years. It was a long goodbye that should have, could have come sooner in life. But my mind was elsewhere. <

= It was a year of watching "Mad Men"'s Don Draper discover that perhaps there really is something reflective, spiritual and cathartic about swimming. Don, I have been saying that for years. ≠

= In the driveway the car was parked. It was a year of challenging myself to see how many destinations I could reach by foot. The answer was: more than I thought. Thank god for my I-Pod shuffle walking companion and a decent pair of shoes. >

= It was a year when my friends and urologist made it possible for me to attend a symposium in Palm Springs. Swimming pools in Southern California, post WWII was the topic of the two-day symposium called "Backyard Oasis". While in Palm Springs I met one of the symposium speakers whom I initially made contact with in 2007 on the occasion of a book he wrote on the social history of swimming pools. The speakers confirmed what I knew, believed and lived and intellectually and emotionally accepted about a swimming pool. >

= It was a year of living on less $ and eventually living with less. "Hmm, where does that next pay check come from?" "Hmmm, when will those front tires be replaced?" "When will…", "How will…" <

= It was a year of recognizing that the time has come to give some, but not all of "it" a rest.

= Eating well is sometimes the best revenge, or only revenge, or both. It was a year of making edible things from scratch: cinnamon rolls, strawberry jam, peach jam, cranberry sauce, banana bread, pumpkin spice cookies (using fresh pumpkin, not canned), gazpacho and so on. Less sugar + less bread + fewer calories and cookies + less red meat = less of me. <

= It was a year of purposefully digging trenches, feeding chickens, washing cars and dogs and clearing brush for pay. For the sake of making my mortgage payments the labor made a lot of sense and carried a lot of weight. My spare change was a nickel or two, a cup of Roberts' Market coffee and a compensatory dozen of freshly laid eggs. You see, when you feed the chickens well, they tip you with fresh eggs. ≠

= It was a year of accidentally coming upon an indoor community pool in Berkeley, California that was surrounded by a chain link fence. The pool was in a noticeable state of neglect and abandon. I see the empty water bottle floating in twelve inches of stale water. "What is wrong with this picture?" I asked myself while my fingers grazed the chain link fence as I walked the pool's length. <

= It was a year of listening to an overwhelming number of people complain about not being able to get anything accomplished. A breath or two later they proceed to blame others for nothing happening, yet refusing to stand and take action. Obesity comes to mind when I think of such cases.

= For the first time in my life, my "home town" became home to the newly crowned World Series champions—SFGiants. Speaking of champions, sometimes they are underdogs or bulldogs, or both. Just ask Butler University's men's basketball team. These two teams are proof that it is possible to rise to the occasion. >

= It was a year of returning to the retail environment for holiday season employment and to quickly realize that, yes there are people who convincingly share and embrace the team spirit at the work place. Sometimes. Bags and egos should be checked at the door.

= In a year of abundant means and ideas stacked against limited ends, it was a year many of us stubbornly forged ahead. Regardless. Regardless. Regardless. "When you are going through hell, just keep on going".—Winston Churchill

= It was a year of pushing pretense into the shadows of pragmatism. ≠

= It was a year of remarkable reading about other people's remarkable lives. Thank you Patti Smith—"Just Kids"; "look me in the eye"—John Elder Robison; "Open”—Andre Agassi; "Born on a Blue Day"—Daniel Tammet; "Parallel Play"—Tim Page. >

= It was a year of living with a lot of potentially perpetually fucked up minds and situations knowing that you are limited in your power to change or remedy those minds and situations. Elizabeth Edwards once said "we live with the God we have and not with the God we want." ≠

= Three hundred and sixty five days of getting older. It was a year of that too. It was the same for all of us. At least in that category of life I have comfort in knowing that I was not alone. You know, as long as I am able to get up each morning and put one foot (plantar fascitis or not) in front of the other and step forward, life will continue to be strings of experiences that are defined in nanoseconds of living. It's another way of saying "live with zero expectations."

= Up or down, high or low, here or there, fast or slow, it was a year of living. Grab it, hold it and own it. Live with it, learn from it. I have a headache from it all now. I think I'll take some aspirin and lie down.

Now its time for twenty and ten and one? Ready or not.

Dennis

Sopczynski

+     +     +     +     +     +     +     +

“Backyard Oasis” symposium

drawing done from the view of my hotel room window,

Palm Springs, CA, November, 2010

+  1 December 2010  +


On November 20 and 21 I was in Palm Springs to attend “Backyard Oasis”, a symposium on the swimming pool in Southern California in the post WWII period. “Backyard Oasis” took place at the Palm Springs Art Museum and is part of a much larger project called “Pacific Standard Time.”


I never thought that an event such as "Backyard Oasis" which focused exclusively on the swimming pool would ever be considered and executed. But there it was. Fourteen speakers—historians, writers, museum professionals, educators, all had incredible and well researched presentations on swimming pools. I was enthralled to have been witness to the presentations and to meet some of the presenters. With a few pockets of brief opportunities I introduced some of them to my work. One of the speakers and I were in agreement, that had we had longer lead time she could have included me in her presentation. Those of us who were there at the symposium reconfirmed our beliefs that there is much to be said at many levels about a swimming pool and its history and relationship with mankind.


At "Backyard Oasis" the single greatest literary and repeated reference in my drawings and photos and swimming experiences is John Cheever's "The Swimmer" and it was presented several times by the speakers. Boy, did I feel moments of affirmation and a happy tap of the fingers with every mention of Cheever's story. Artists Richard Diebenkorn and David Hockney, especially Hockney were also mentioned at the symposium. They too exists as important and continuous influences in my work. I am a fan of the television series "The Sopranos”, "Man Men" and “Breaking Bad”. Imagine my delight at seeing familiar film clips of Tony Soprano and the ducks in his backyard pool, Don Draper swimming during a period of reflective moments in his life, and Walter White, the main character in "Breaking Bad" who has a backyard pool.


Busby Berkley, Esther Williams, "The Graduate", "Sexy Beast", "Sunset Boulevard", "The Springboard in the Pond" by Thomas A.P. van Leeuwen, The Beach Boys, Jan & Dean, Levittown, they were all at the symposium. When I was in grad school, one of the many papers I wrote was on the Case Study House project. Six months before her passing in 1988, as part of a group of grad students I visited with Ray Eames in her much publicized quintessential and centerpiece Case Study House home in Pacific Palisades. The Case Study House project and L.A. Modernism were also frequently mentioned in "Backyard Oasis." In fact the symposium centered on Southern California/L.A. Modernism.


I had approximately ten days to plan for my trip to Palm Springs. Not a lot of lead time there. But, I knew for certain that at the symposium I would have a chance to meet Jeff Wiltse, author of "Contested Waters: A Social History of Swimming Pools in America." Jeff was also one of the speakers. He and I initially exchanged email messages back in 2007. 


Back in 2007, my friend Susie Knoll arrived at the Betty Wright pool with a copy of Dick Cavett's review of Jeff's book that appeared on the New York Times website. "Here Dennis" Susie said to me "this might be of interest to you." She was correct. With my interest in the histories of many disciplines—art, jazz and pop music, design, social/political, architecture, swimming, I found Jeff's book to be the perfect square that I could never draw. As the title states, Jeff's book thoroughly takes the reader through the development of the public swimming pool in the Unites States in the first half of the 20th century with a focus on the Eastern/Northeastern part of the country. I highly encourage reading of it because of the social history narrative. It was nice to have met Jeff three years later after our initial correspondence exchange.


I thank my friend Susie and her husband Scott for pushing me, without missing a beat for me to go to the symposium at a time when I could least afford to go. Susie and Scott, as you know, my passions and commitments are to art and swimming. (Duh, no kidding.) 


And everybody I hope you remain as true to your passions and commitments as I do to mine. 


Carry on.

Hidden in the Jungles of Life for Almost an Entire Year

+  23 November 2010  + 

Self-portrait, October 2010

(blind contour drawing, pen and ink) 

Pressed Between the Literary Pages as I Sleep and Dream

+  9 December 2009  +

“PR 232” (detail)

2009

I am very fortunate. In the waning days of 2009 a career ambition of mine came to realization.

On Wednesday, December 9, 2009 I had the opportunity to put on display at the San Mateo Public Library (SMPL) a selection of my pool drawings.

This opportunity is of tremendous importance to me for a few reasons. I have made, and continue to make numerous references to John Cheever short story "The Swimmer" when I speak about my drawings. I so often link that story to its influence on me and the drawings. In the same breath I speak of the concept of "journey".

In 2007, for example I transposed Cheever's story into a performance art piece. In the span of eight days I drove 1200+ miles to do 20 swims in 16 different pool between San Francisco and Los Angeles. I ended up swimming 24000+ yards in the process. A few drawings inspired by that trip are included in the library installation.

Obviously I wish to share with the community my skills as an artist and my perceptions of life in and around a swimming pool. In the art section of the library are monographs on Richard Diebenkorn, Philip Guston, David Hockney, Agnes Martin, Piet Mondrian, Ad Reinhardt and Minimalism. They too are a tremendous influence in my work. And to them I add to those authors who I mention in elsewhere in my blog. Everybody, I have come to join you.

Exhibiting a body of work with strong art and literary ties at a library works very well for me. The SMPL agreed to display alongside my drawings all of its available John Cheever books.

The Library staff and I are mutually and openly embracing the communal aspects of a swimming pool and a public library. And that spirit of "community" is what matters to me. Thus, I would like to take a moment to thank the SMPL staff for inviting me to exhibit my drawings and for their assistance. I would also like to thank them for the spirit of collaboration. For a number of years it has been an ambition of mine to exhibit my drawings at a library and that moment arrived on December 9, 2009. Patience is a virtue. 


The drawings are on display until February 8, 2010.

Living on an Expanded Dime

+  2 December 2009   +


The day is somewhere in between Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day. Leftover homemade cranberry sauce still holds a presence in the refrigerator. But all other forms of recognizable Thanksgiving Day edibles are history. Culturally and mentally, we moved on to the next gig in life.


The day is also a day for a swim. I am at the pool where I provide lessons. The pool basks in the glory of the late autumn sun and in the company of the bright orange shade trees on the nearby lawn. The pool only seems to be in a state of neglect. Why? No one is around. But I am.


This is the second year in a row for me to do volunteer community service work on Christmas Day. And that is my legitimate excuse for the absence of mindful (and maybe mindless) shopping on my to-do list. If you knew me you would understand the how and the why of it all. As a consolation I go for a swim. So. Yes, obviously holiday shopping is not on my mind. Just swimming. Nothing more, nothing less. I swim for the health of the world. And mine too. In the meantime Christmas Day will take care of itself. Thus I relish the non-tinseled state of mind. I look in a different direction.


Back to the pool, no one is here except I. Physically I may be alone, but I don’t feel that way. It is late morning. The pool’s energy is invisible. As the pool’s sole inhabitant I mindfully own it. But reality says something different. What a mindset it is to have a 50 meter pool all to yourself. Once in the water my body moves. My eyes see without distraction the farthest reaches of the underwater pool environment. And my mind travels. Beyond the dimensions of 50 meters, what else lies beyond that which I can clearly see and know? The answers are wide open.


“Open up your mind” is what that 50 meter pool says to me. “OK. And may I take a few others along with me?” No traffic, no holiday carols, no cash registers, in fact its a no-nothing environment as I look underwater. The no-nothing environment is silent and its silence speaks volumes to me. The silence can also be deafening. And that is the sound of the pool’s quiet energy.


Straight as an arrow I swam my 2000 meters. Some moments my mind wandered and filled with expanded  “what if…” thoughts. And other moments my mind was self contained, focused and registered. I think its a manifestation of the efficiency of the streamlined position and stroke counting. And I know there was at least one “Ah-ha” moment. The combined power of swimming and water do all that to me all the time.


But wait, there is more that it does to me and does for me.

I can elaborate when I reach the opposite end of the swim, or the opposite end of the pool. But, by then I will not yet have realized that the pool carried me off to another destination. There is a slight pause and a “wow”.


I know, for I have been there before.