One of the greatest gifts I have ever been given was an assignment from an art teacher who changed my life, Mr. Bertram Katz, at the High School of Music and Art in NYC. The assignment, and he actually made it many times over the course of several years and many classes, was to not have an opinion .

The first time this assignment came up the class was assigned to go and see various abstract expressionist artists who were on exhibit at MoMA. We were assigned to see certain specific paintings, sometimes several from an artist and I specifically remember the first was Hans Hoffmann.

The idea was we were to visit the museum on our own either after school or on a weekend and describe the paintings that we saw. Mr. Katz was the only art teacher who was asking his classes to go to museums and galleries to do all this extra work. There was a whole lot of moaning and groaning and challenging going on from the other students who had other ideas of how to spend their spare time.

I was a regular at MoMA, the Met and many galleries, which I found to be safe havens from my problems at home. Going to MoMA was not an inconvenience for me. I also liked to write. The assignment had my interest and I was already looking forward to it. I knew who some of the artists were and I was planning the good reviews I could give, not that I had much knowledge of art history or theory, Still, I knew what I liked.

Other students challenged the assignment by asking questions, such as “What if I need more time?” And, “What do you want us to write about the works?”

Mr. Katz responded that he just wanted us to describe the paintings. Write down what we saw.

 The challenges and questions continued on for a while. One girl raised he hand in challenge, asking, “Don't you want us to write if we think it is a good painting and why?”

Our teacher was becoming exasperated. And then Mr. Katz said the most amazing thing that changed my life. “No. I don't want to know your opinion. You don't know enough about this kind of art to have an opinion! You won't know enough for a while to be able to reach a real opinion. All I want you to do is look and describe enough so I'll know you've actually seen the work.”

I had spent my entire life being asked by parents, teachers, relatives and even friends for my opinion. Who was right, who was wrong? Is the corn this week better than it was from the other place? Should this movie star marry (or divorce) the other one? Who would win the World Series? What should we have for dinner (not that I was cooking or shopping)? What were the major reasons for the French and Indian War? What does this poem mean - and support your opinion.

I deeply knew I was supposed to have an opinion and probably share it on just about everything.

Yet, here was one of my favorite teachers, a man I truly respected, declaring that not only did he not want to know my opinion, but that I and the class did not know enough to have an opinion worth his time. 

Deep down I knew he was correct. It was a relief. I knew I didn't know enough about much of anything to have an opinion worth anyone's time, It was liberating! I did not need to have the correct answer, nor any answer. I was ion a journey to learn enough to have something to offer. Who knew? Whew!

For two and a half years Mr. Katz continued to liberate me and any other student he could from the humdrum assumptions and conformity the adults around had taught us.  He gave me the freedom as an artist to fail utterly as I worked to find my way. Failing at a painting was fine if one learned from it. He cared about the learning.

That art was important and could change the world, and had changed mine, I learned from van Gogh, Rembrandt, Picasso and Dali before I was a teenager. Mr. Katz helped me to learn that a part of the work of becoming a real artist was not just learning how to paint and fulfill assignments well, but finding my own unique way.

Although I handed in every assignment and could do whatever I was asked, such as painting a still life he has set up, when we were asked to paint anything we wanted to paint -- to make our own art all I did was sit quietly for many days and class periods intently staring at my canvas. I had no idea how to make art, although I passionately wanted to do it.

However, it seemed this was the best possible assignment for the other students because they could finally express themselves. It was a wretched assignment for me. I didnot want to express myself, I wanted to make art. I had no idea what I wanted to say and less idea of how to say it through art or any other discipline. It was a horrible asignment!  Art could change lives. I wanted to do that, not just express my teenage self.

During those times Mr. Katz would come over and we would discuss what was going on for me, while the rest of the class painted away. I remember trying to hide the tears that were escaping down my cheeks. He understood what I was wrestling with as I stared at my large blank canvas. Art was important for him, too.

I would beg him to just tell me what to do, what to paint and I would do that. However, if the assignment was to make art, I couldn't do that. I could only paint pictures.

We had many talks and he allowed me my struggle. He understood that I wanted to make art that changed the world, that told a story but didn't that seemed to move and that revealed truth. Only I had no idea of how accomplish what I was passionate about doing. He gave me the space to struggle but I begged him to tell me what to paint so I could complete the assignment. He wouldn't, but told me to keep at it.

I remember one (well at least the first time) when I handed in a blank canvas since that was all I had. Mr. Katz just accepted it along with the other student's works as if I had completed the assignment to create my own art. I was used to being one of the two or three students who received all A's from him. I remember the looks on the other students' faces. I was surely in trouble.

Me. Katz gave me an A for that blank canvas. Not for the end result but for the struggle to make art and the honesty of admitting I was clueless. I believe he embarrassed me by bringing this up before the class, too.   He was proud of me. 

I struggled. I struggled for many years, even turning away from art to pursue other careers, hoping for the day when I could make art that could change the way people saw the world, art that was important, not just well painted. Mr. Katz had liberated me to wait and learn and quest until I had something to really offer. Ironically, the other pursuits and careers allowed me to gain the understandings and abilities (such as being a professional writer) I would need to found the art theory and movement of UnGraven Image.

I have attempted to find Bertram Katz through the alumni of the High School of Music and Art. No one seems to know much about him. He was a favorite teacher for only a few students who really loved art, many others disliked his extra assignments, iconoclastic ways and difficult grading system. He seems to have only taught here for the few years I was in attendance.

Those few years were enough to radically and wondrously change my life. Thanks to him I am an artist. Thanks to him I am a much better human being.

November 15, 2006