Tribute to Mr. B

by Hai-In Kim, 16, US

"Nobody sees the beauty of dead birds on the highway." - Jon Bindrum

I am running past the bathrooms and the attendance office, eager to get to class on time. I enter the room, breathless, and find the usual mix of people and events. Mr. Bindrum is commanding, "Okay gang, let's get to work! Everybody--work!" A massive still-life piled high with random objects and garage sale finds has been erected, and chairs are being dragged across the floor to find better angles. Someone is painting a mural on the ceiling, shouting for more paint from below. Annie Lennox is blaring from the tiny back room, and the noise and din of students is overwhelming. As everybody begins working, the music is turned down, and the noise of pencils and paintbrushes clinking against glass jars replaces all other sounds.

Mr. Bindrum is walking to the storage area to find someone the perfect fine-toothed pastel paper, all the while proclaiming, "Hey, does anybody need any help? Speak up now--critique's on Wednesday, gang, Wednesday now!" As he walks past the tables, someone asks him to check out a painting from afar. He pauses to squint, craning his neck backwards, and proceeds to give a pronounced thumbs-up. "Now just add a wider range of values--play up those lights and darks!" he calls encouragingly as he heads into the storage room, still holding the thumbs-up as he disappears past the door.

Certain people in our lives, whether they are close or just passing through, affect us as individuals. They may influence us in many ways; their thoughts and ideas can permeate our own. Mr. Jon Bindrum, my art teacher of two years, has been one of those people. Mr. Bindrum was my first high school art teacher as I came in fresh from the middle school, bewildered by high school art. I entered as a scared freshman, apprehensive about the work ahead of me, and already fearing these next four, hellish years. With his relaxed yet knowing attitude, I could tell Mr. Bindrum had been a long-time teacher. In the classroom I soon discovered that he was very open, allowing his students to grow creatively in our own ways. His ideas and methods connected with all of us, especially me.

Coming from an art program which had been very structured, for me Mr. Bindrum's class was a creative haven. He trusted his students, letting us take risks and urging us on whenever we were wary of whether we could follow through. He was always open, expressing his real opinion and not holding back. But his comments were always a perfect blend of critique and confidence, and I truly felt he had faith in me as an artist. (Many teachers call this constructive criticism, but few are able to accomplish it with success.) He himself was also a very creative being, giving me fresh ideas when I felt I had none, inspiring me to continue with a new experiment. Mr. Bindrum, being an intrinsic teacher, was always eager to help as well. His well-known call, "Hey! Does anybody need help? Any help at all? Anybody?" always echoed through the room. A marvelous sense of humor also appeared daily, such as his attendance-taking procedure: "Is Meg here? Anybody seen Meg? Meeeg (a high-ended yodel)...pause...Bad Meg, Bad," finishing with a sigh for Meg's absence.

Mr. Bindrum did not only act as my art teacher, but my sagacious confidante. I spent many afternoons with him after school, discussing anything and everything. I mentioned my end-of-the-quarter nervousness over grades, my college dreams, my artistic aspirations, my family, almost everything that is dear to any high school student. But most of all, we spoke about art. He would impart his vast knowledge of the art world and I would try take it all in. I have always looked upon Mr. Bindrum as an artist who teaches. He has given me some of the best advice about my hopeful career-path, little nuggets of advice or long tales about his vast experiences.

"Art is a struggle," he always says. We would talk about different kinds of art, which broadened my view on the subject. He would tell me about his new neighbor in Vermont who balances huge stones, boulders, on top of other, smaller rocks. Sometimes they take him up to two full hours, balancing these rocks. They are all over his lawn, and when they fall down or tip over during a storm, he just balances it again. "Now how's that for patience!" Mr. B would exclaim, ending with, "Give me twenty pounds of epoxy and I'd just glue that rock right on there!" Or he would tell me how teaching was his secret to staying young, "I love the sense of humanism, the creative sense of humor--being around young people helps keep you young. You're surrounded in a world of different thoughts and ideas."

Other times he would tell me about his art jobs, his life before teaching. He told me once about doing commissioned work, how he had done an entire series on the beauty of the dead birds on the highway. "Nobody saw the beauty of these birds, I mean, I didn't get a single bite. So then I went back to do another one and I painted the birch trees by my house. Everybody loves birch trees it seems--they just can't get enough! After I did a whole collection, I said, 'Jesus, I will never paint another one of those darn birch trees ever again!'" In this way, Mr. Bindrum told me that art was not worth it if you were doing it for someone else. It had to be your own. It was essential for you to become one with it. These personal philosophies that he shared with me, I now consider priceless and have also adopted as part of my own philosophies.

I can truthfully say that he helped me find my goals, ideas and inspirations in art. Mr. Bindrum helped me see where I was going and where art was taking me. Mr. Bindrum encouraged me to take classes at the Hopper House every Tuesday night in Nyack, to get myself to interesting museum exhibits in the city, and to apply for art summer school. I have taken his advice and done all three. In the beginning of the year, I was much more subdued, not a risk taker. But Mr. Bindrum has allowed me to learn for myself and follow my own creativity. Mr. Bindrum's class challenged me, yet I enjoyed it at the same time.

Art is an outlet for me, and has always been. When I was younger, I would always communicate through pictures and drawings. I love the feeling of simply forgetting about my seventy-eight in chemistry as I immerse myself in my work. High school is a very hectic time, if not just plain depressing at times. The school work and busy schedule can get extremely overwhelming. However, being with Mr. Bindrum overshadows the dark parts, makes me forget where I am, if only for forty-five minutes of pure happiness a day. By letting his experiences and wise words help shape who I am, Mr. Bindrum has had a great impact on the development of my identity as a person and an artist.