My doodles are not Zentangles

 I'm a compulsive doodler, and I've written about it several times before in my blog.  What I create are doodles, not Zentangles.  I want to talk a little here about the difference, and why you haven't even seen and won't ever see me presenting Zentangle art lessons here on this blog.  By the way, all images in this post are from the latest of several little sketchbooks I take with me to meetings or workshops, so that I can keep my hands busy while I focus my mind.  They are done mostly in a combination of black Sharpie and a set of multicolor Flair pens.

I first wrote a blog post on the topic of Zentangle vs doodle in March 2011, and while it is not in my list of most popular posts, it has certainly sparked more response than most other posts.  As a matter of fact, it has received more comments than any other post I've done since the inception of this blog, with today's total of 60 comments (yes, some of them are my responses to commenters, but there's still a lot.)  New comments still frequently appear on that post, so I know it is still a topic of interest.  I also wrote another post about doodling here, with the link to a great TED talk on doodling, too.

 

So why am I writing another post on the topic today? I've actually been planning it for quite some time, but I would see posts written by other bloggers, or in the Facebook Art Teacher group, about projects/lessons taught that incorporated Zentangle, and I did not want anyone who wrote these posts to think that my blog post was referring to them directly.  So I waited until a 'neutral' time to write this.  This blog post is not directed at any specific person but is intended to make you think about what you teach and why. 

 Here's my concern.  Throughout my long teaching career, my students did lessons and projects that incorporated line, texture, shape, balance, repetition, rhythm, pattern, unity, contrast, and so on.  If you are an art teacher, these words should be very familiar to you, since they are all part of the basic Elements of Art and Principles of Design.  The word 'Zentangle' appears nowhere in the Elements and Principles, nor will you find it in your Core Art Standards or in the Mathematics Standards either.  That's because Zentangle is a trademarked method taught by CZTs (Certified Zentangle Trainers).  In other words, it's a money-making business.  They teach classes and sell products. 

Searching the web, I came across a wiki that gave this definition: "A Zentangle is an abstract drawing created using repetitive patterns according to the trademarked Zentangle Method. True Zentangles are always created on 3.5 inch (8.9 cm) square tiles, and they are always done in black ink on white paper."  It further went on to say that it should without orientation (no up or down).  Already, I certainly know that MY doodles don't qualify.  Mine often incorporate color, they absolutely do have a certain intended orientation, and they are not square.  Further, they do not include the pencil shading that is a part of the Zentangle method.  

Then then I went to the official Zentangle® website, and I learned that "Zentangle's teaching materials are subject to copyright owned by Zentangle." According to the website, they have a patent pending on their teaching method.  Also, I found this: "Many aspects of the Zentangle® Method, including our materials and teaching tools, as well as the material on this site, are covered by copyright which is owned by Zentangle, Inc. All rights reserved."  (So it's a good thing I'm not calling my drawings Zentangles, I guess...)

If you are doing a project with your students that includes drawing something with a specific shape (whether a cat, a tree, an owl, a flower, a whale, an ice cream cone, or whatever...) and a major part of that lesson involves having your students divide up the internal space of the subject and fill each part with repeating patterns, rhythmic designs, or repetitive textural lines, WHY are you calling it a Zentangle?  Isn't it really a lesson on repetition?  On line?  On implied texture? And so on?  You can reference almost every Element and Principle in such a lesson, and that is much more valid to justify as part of your curriculum than calling it a Zentangle!  I would think your administration, looking at your curriculum, would much prefer seeing that you are teaching long-established elements of art and principles of design.  (Just my opinion, I know.)  As a matter of fact, I could probably dig through my ancient School Arts magazines and other resources from my early days teaching elementary art, and find many articles on lessons using repetitive pattern and design that were published before Zentangle® was ever conceived!

 Let's try to put this another way.  I love papier-mache.  Let's say I invent a specific papier-mache mixture, call it "Dragon Drool" (which is already the nickname my students use for mixed Art Paste), copyright it and sell it, train and certify "Dragon-Droolers" in training sessions that cost money to attend, and copyright my specific method calling it "Dragon-Drooling".  Now, every time you use papier-mache, should you be referencing my copyrighted name, even though you might not be doing the process the same way, or using the same material?  Even though you haven't been trained in Dragon-Drooling by a CDD ("Certified Dragon-Drooler")?  No!  You simply call it a papier-mache project!  Similarly, unless you are a CZT, and are using the specific process and materials outlined in official Zentangle classes, should any lesson in repetitive design be called "doing Zentangles"?  

I'd love to hear your thoughts.  In the meantime, please understand; this blog post is in no way criticizing the Zentangle process or the people who teach it.  I simply don't think it's what we are actually doing when we are teaching art to kids!

Unplugged

I was at the gym the other day, wearing headphones plugged into the elliptical, zoning my brain out on mindless TV (because exercising at the gym is so bloody BORING.  Nobody can convince me otherwise.)  And I looked around me and realized probably 9 out of every 10 people had wires extending from their ears, either to an exercise machine or to a device strapped onto their body.

And I thought, if aliens landed on earth, and stepped into Planet Fitness, they'd think it was a recharging station, and that we were all machines.  The thought kind of creeped me out.  We are kind of like the Borg.  Meanwhile, I think this wasp's nest I found in the roof of our shed kind of looks like something alien, or at least something from a creepy horror movie.

But the gym is actually the only place I wear headphones.  When I take walks outside, like I did today, I like to listen to the sounds of nature - birds, bees, flowing water lapping at a shore, wind rippling through trees, kids playing, and more.  I'm amazed at all the joggers and walkers I see outside on a beautiful day, all plugged in, headphones on.  They are missing the chorus of red-wing blackbirds, or the bubbling of a stream.  They might as well be walking on the treadmill.

They might miss this the flutter of the wings of a little bluebird flitting in and out of an opening in his bluebird 'condo'. 

 They might miss the peeps of little ducklings, paddling at breakneck speed to keep up with mom.

 Or the splashing of ducklings as they practice dipping into the water.

 Or the honking of unseen geese lurking somewhere in the marsh.

 Or the rustle of leaves as a caterpillar wiggles his way down a branch.

 Or the subtle sound of dragonfly wings.

 Or the plop of a turtle slipping into the water.

Recently, in my kayak, I took the time to just stop paddling and listen from the center of my quiet little lake.  And I discovered it wasn't quiet at all.  I heard loons calling, and geese honking, and insects buzzing, and I thought how much I'd miss if I couldn't hear the sounds of the 'quiet' lake. 

 Do you 'plug in' whenever you are outside?  Think about what you might be missing!

All photos in this post are from recent walks near my home, or near our Adirondack lakeside 'camp', or from paddling my kayak in the lake.   I know it may not seem like an art teacher-y post, but listening is a part of being observant.  If we don't open our eyes and ears, there's so much to miss.   So maybe this is art teacher-y after all!