Makoto Fujimura

This book. I’m not much of an artist. I like thinking about art, though, and it helps me with my teaching in all sorts of ways. And in trying to make music, to make photographs, to draw, to write, I’m a better person and teacher.

The book opens with this quote:
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
— William Blake, Auguries of Innocence, 1803

I have always considered art to be impossible. How can I create beauty, describe the wonderments of what I see, when my own heart is darkened, broken, and shattered? How can I create beauty in world full of violence and death? (8)

The making journey dwells in the gaps left behind by the prevalent false binaries of culture wars; oppositions of politics, race, and the “we versus them mentality; flashy celebrity creations of “influencers” that drive the market and define our culture today. (13)

Peace begins by beholding the fragments of what is broken. As I behold the fragments of trauma in our days, I also recognize that our path to create beauty today will require particular sacrifice and wisdom. Out of these moments in history flows a language of peace and care that we might learn from today, when brute dictatorial forces and powerful algorithms may not allow us to speak of these ideals in a straightforward fashion.

We may yet become lovely by loving what we disdain.

Childhood is the foundation for our art. Memories from our earliest days are the material from our journey into the light.
Memories have eyes that can see beyond the sea. Seeing through the eyes of the heart means cultivating an awareness for the gift of life, past and present. Such a gift, like the gifts of shiny creatures from the sea, can open our hearts toward that joy we once knew, and the sense of play that every moment can bring.

Mark Rothko, in his ideal vision for his painting, stated: “It would be good if little places could be set up all over the country, like a little chapel where the traveler, or the wanderer could come for an hour to meditate on a single painting hung in a small room, and by itself.” (p.145)

“Art Is?: A Journey into the Light | WorldCat.Org.” Accessed February 19, 2026. https://search.worldcat.org/title/1545123654.

I loved this book. Author channeling Emily Bronte’s thoughts on life as a teacher:

Powell, Karen. Fifteen Wild Decembers. Europa Editions, 2025.

Started this book today.

Liked this quote (I thought I’d heard most of the teacher metaphors…)

“What we ask of teachers would be like asking a doctor to see her patients in groups of thirty, diagnose their individual problems within forty-five minutes, and then prescribe effective, personalized treatment plans that constantly evolve in real time as each person’s health changes.”

Anderson, Jenny, and Rebecca Winthrop. The Disengaged Teen: Helping Kids Learn Better, Feel Better, and Live Better. First edition. Crown, 2025.

I know, I know, I read these sorts of books waiting to see if they actually understand teacher work.

There’s a chapter midway through on the nature of immigration that I’m going to use in my classes. Need to get photograph those pages.

Sarr, Mohamed Mbougar. The Silence of the Choir. Translated by Alison Anderson. New York, NY: Europa Editions, 2024.

Tough book. Hard to read at points. Like Sally Rooney’s books, it makes me glad, so glad, to be old, to have had a childhood without an all-encompassing computer in my pocket.

Quote, which I could build an entire week in seminar around:

Tulathimutte, Tony. Rejection: Fiction. First edition. New York: William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers, 2024.

Loved this book. Love any book that tries to dig into the roots of current fads and provide genuine depth.

Inspiring concluding paragraph:

Chayka, Kyle. The Longing for Less: Living with Minimalism. New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2020.

The main character describing his father:

I felt my love for him gather itself up — as heavy and as solid as a stone — in my chest. The talented historian who managed to remain independent, part of that silent army that exists in every country, made up of individuals who had come to the conclusion that they live among unreasonable compatriots and therefore must, like grownups in a playground, endure the chaos until the bell rings, resigned to the fact that this may come long after they are gone.

Matar, Hisham. My Friends. First U.S. edition. New York: Random House, 2024.

“There’s something about the faces of everyone in my family…I think you can see in our eyes the kind of sadness, which is in two places at once — mourning the past, grieving the future. Sad in a historically significant and visually satisfying way. Looking sad like it’s your job.”

Cornejo Villavicencio, Karla. Catalina. First edition. New York: One World, 2024.