From Observation to Originality: A High School Art Unit

 

One of the things I want my art students to understand is that being a good artist doesn't necessarily mean being able to make something look exactly like a photograph.

Don't get me wrong. I think observational skills are incredibly important. Students need to learn how to really look at something, understand its proportions, recognize subtle changes in value and color, and figure out how to translate what they're seeing into an artwork.

But I also want them to understand that observation is just the starting point.

Artists make choices about what to include, what to leave out, what to exaggerate, what to change, and how to communicate something that goes beyond simply reproducing what they see.

That's the thinking behind my Artists Observe unit for Art 3.

Building Observation Skills

I organized this unit around four learning experiences that build toward an independent final project.

We begin with drawing from life. Students work through several short observational challenges, experimenting with different subjects, viewpoints, and materials. The goal isn't necessarily to produce a beautiful finished drawing every time. It's to practice looking, responding, and making decisions.

From there, we move into linear perspective, where students investigate how space works and use what they observe to create their own compositions.

Next, we tackle one of my favorite challenges: painting white things.

 Students arrange and photograph white objects, then try to paint what they actually see. They quickly discover that white objects are rarely just white! Reflected colors, subtle shadows, and changes in lighting become much more noticeable when they really start paying attention.

We also spend time working from photographs, but with an important distinction: photographs are references, not instructions.

Students explore ways to alter, simplify, combine, and reinterpret visual information instead of feeling obligated to reproduce every detail.

Giving Students Room to Make Their Own Decisions

All of these experiences lead to a final choice-based project.

By this point, students have practiced several approaches to observation, and I want them to decide how to use those skills in a way that makes sense for their own ideas.

Some students gravitate toward realism. Others experiment with composition, unusual viewpoints, color, symbolism, or combining references in unexpected ways.

I don't want every student to arrive at the same solution. 

Throughout the project, students develop ideas, experiment, receive feedback, revise, and reflect on their choices. I want them to recognize that the decisions they make along the way are just as important as the finished artwork.

A Unit Built Around the Process

I've spent quite a bit of time organizing and refining this unit into a complete 39-block sequence, including lesson plans, instructional presentations, student resources, project development activities, progress checks, rubrics, and an in-class critique.

One of my goals was to create something structured enough to guide students through the learning process while still leaving room for experimentation and individual approaches.

I've put the complete Artists Observe unit on Teachers Pay Teachers for anyone who might find it useful in their own classroom.

Ultimately, I want my students to leave this unit understanding that observation is a skill they can use in all kinds of artwork, not just realistic drawings and paintings.

Look closely. Make decisions. Create something of your own.

A More Thoughtful Way to Share Artists

I wanted my students to encounter more artists, but I also wanted those encounters to feel meaningful. Over the years, I’ve tried several ways to make that happen. I regularly introduce artists through our projects, but I also want students to discover new artists on their own.

For a while, I used an “Artist of the Week” format. Each student added a new artist to a shared slide deck every week and gave one sentence explaining their choice. In practice, this often led to rushed decisions and presentations that felt like something we simply had to get through.

This year, I redesigned the routine. Each student chooses one artist for the entire semester, completes two focused slides, and gives a 2–3 minute presentation. With only two students presenting each week, we have time to look closely, hear why the artist matters to the presenter, and consider one artistic idea we might borrow for our own work. Because students choose only once, their decision feels more intentional and meaningful.

I turned the full routine into an editable resource with student slide templates, a model presentation, teacher directions, a sign-up schedule, Canvas/LMS assignments, and rubrics. If you would like to try Artist Spotlight in your own classroom, you can find it here:

VIEW THE ARTIST SPOTLIGHT RESOURCE

A Strong AP® Art Portfolio Requires More Than Strong Artwork

Every year, talented AP® Art and Design students create thoughtful, technically accomplished work. They take creative risks, develop meaningful ideas, and grow tremendously as artists.

But sometimes, the final portfolio does not communicate the full depth of that work.

The problem is not always the artwork itself. Sometimes, students simply have not captured enough of the process that led to it. They reach the end of the course without the photographs, reflections, or clearly written explanations they need to show how their ideas developed. Important experiments happened, but no one photographed them. Meaningful revisions were made, but the earlier version no longer exists. A student can explain an artistic decision in conversation, but struggles to communicate it clearly and concisely in writing.

By portfolio-submission time, those missed opportunities cannot always be recreated.

That is why I believe one of the most valuable things we can give AP® Art and Design students is not another project, but a structure that helps them slow down, recognize what they are learning, and document it before important evidence is lost.

The portfolio is more than a collection of finished work

In a busy, creative classroom, everyone’s attention naturally goes to the artwork and the discoveries happening in the moment. Documentation can easily be overlooked until we realize that important evidence has already disappeared.

The official AP® Drawing portfolio guidance explains that the Sustained Investigation includes images and writing documenting an inquiry-guided investigation developed through practice, experimentation, and revision. Some submitted images may document process rather than simply showing finished artwork. For Selected Works, students also identify and explain the materials, processes, and ideas represented in their work.

This means students need more than attractive final photographs. They need evidence that helps a reader understand what changed, what was tested, what was learned, and how those discoveries affected the direction of the investigation.

A polished final work may reveal very little about the decisions behind it. A photograph of an early material test, an abandoned composition, or two versions placed side by side may communicate part of the artistic journey that the final work cannot show on its own.

Documentation has to be part of the studio process

Telling students to “take process pictures” is rarely enough.

They need to understand what is worth documenting and when to document it. Otherwise, their camera rolls (or phones) fill with nearly identical photographs of unfinished artwork rather than useful evidence of development.

I want students to capture moments such as:

• Testing an unfamiliar material or technique
• Comparing several possible compositions
• Changing a process after an unexpected result
• Responding to feedback from a critique
• Reworking part of a piece that was not communicating effectively
• Combining materials or processes in a new way
• Revising the direction of an investigation after making a discovery
• Connecting a visual decision more clearly to the guiding inquiry

These moments are easy to overlook while students are immersed in making. They are also difficult, or impossible, to reconstruct several months later.

Documentation becomes much more reliable when it is built into recurring assignments, progress checks, critiques, and reflections. Instead of asking students to remember everything at the end, the course creates regular pauses during which they photograph, select, describe, and evaluate their evidence.

Reflection helps students understand what their evidence proves

A process photograph is not automatically meaningful evidence.

Students need opportunities to consider why an image matters. What does it show that the final work does not? What decision is visible? What changed afterward? How did the experiment or revision contribute to the development of the investigation?

This is where reflection becomes essential.

My experience completing National Board Certification strongly shaped the way I approach this work. That process taught me to think carefully about the relationship between an accomplishment and the evidence used to demonstrate it. It is not enough to know that meaningful learning occurred. The evidence must make that learning visible, and the explanation must clearly establish the connection.

I now apply that same thinking to portfolio development. Throughout the course, I ask students to consider three related questions:

1. What did I do?
2. What does my evidence actually show?
3. How did this affect the development of my work or investigation?

When students reflect consistently, their writing at the end of the course becomes much stronger. They are no longer trying to remember an entire semester at once. They have already recorded important decisions, discoveries, challenges, and changes in direction.

Clear writing should be developed throughout the course

Strong artistic thinking does not always translate automatically into strong portfolio writing.

Students may understand their work deeply but struggle to explain it clearly. Some use vague or repetitive language, while others become so focused on making their writing sound sophisticated that their actual evidence gets lost. They may describe what they did without explaining why it mattered, or make broad claims about experimentation or revision without pointing to what is visible in the submitted images.

Portfolio writing does not need to be flowery or complicated. In fact, simple and direct is often better. Students should clearly identify the visual evidence and explain what it communicates. For example: rounded, organic shapes = my earlier self and ideas. A short statement like this can establish the connection more effectively than a paragraph of elaborate language. Students can also add brief words, labels, arrows, or symbols directly to their Sustained Investigation images when designing them, as long as those additions help clarify the visual evidence.

Writing improves when students practice it repeatedly in connection with their own artwork. Short progress reflections, project-development plans, critique responses, image-selection exercises, and portfolio check-ins give students opportunities to explain their choices before the final submission period. Peer review can also help them recognize when their writing sounds impressive but does not actually help someone understand the images.

The goal is not elaborate art criticism. It is clear, precise writing that points directly to the evidence and helps the student’s images, ideas, and decisions make sense together.

Structure matters even more in a one-semester course

I teach AP® Drawing and AP® 2-D Art and Design in a single 18-week fall semester. That compressed timeline requires very intentional planning.

My semester is organized around five major project cycles. Each cycle includes project development, studio work, progress documentation, reflection, image selection, and written evidence. Students complete recurring progress checks and sketchbook assignments, participate in formal critiques, and periodically prepare Sustained Investigation images and Selected Works rather than postponing all portfolio decisions until the end.

The timing is strategic. Students are introduced to expectations early, but they continue returning to them as their work becomes more complex. Progress checks remind them to document experimentation and revision while those decisions are still unfolding. Project reflections help preserve the reasoning behind their choices. Periodic portfolio reviews allow us to identify missing evidence while there is still time to address it.

During the final weeks, students are refining and curating a body of evidence they have developed across the semester, not desperately trying to recreate one.

The teacher’s role is to create the conditions for success

No organizer, reflection sheet, or progress check can create an excellent portfolio for a student. The ideas, decisions, experimentation, revision, and artwork must remain the student’s own.

But teachers can create conditions that make important learning less likely to disappear.

We can establish routines that remind students to photograph a trial before painting over it. We can pause midway through a project and ask what has changed. We can teach students to distinguish between a photograph that merely shows unfinished work and one that demonstrates a meaningful decision. We can give them repeated opportunities to connect what they write to what a reader can actually see.

Most importantly, we can help students understand that documentation is not separate from the creative process. Looking closely at their own development can lead students to make stronger choices, recognize patterns, and approach their investigations with greater intention.

Building a system that supports teachers, too

I began developing my AP® Art and Design resources because I needed a manageable way to keep these expectations visible throughout an extremely busy semester. Over time, those individual tools developed into a connected course structure.

Resources such as my AP® Art Progress Check, Project Development Assignment, Project Reflection, Portfolio Reflection and Evidence Tracker, critique materials, and image-submission guides are designed to create purposeful pauses throughout the studio process. My Complete Course Guide for Teaching AP® Drawing and 2-D Design shows when and how I use those tools across an 18-week semester.

They are not a replacement for the teacher’s expertise or the student’s creative work. They are a framework for helping both teachers and students keep track of important evidence before it is lost in the momentum of the semester.

Whether you develop your own system or use an existing one, the specific format matters less than the consistency. The most useful structure is one that students encounter repeatedly - early enough and often enough to influence how they work.

Because when portfolio season arrives, we want students to have more than excellent finished artwork. We want them to have the visual and written evidence needed to communicate the thoughtful investigation that produced it.

AP® is a trademark registered by the College Board, which is not affiliated with, and does not endorse, this site.

Days 10 / 11: The Long Way Home

Day 10 was really two days of travel. On Friday, July 3, we checked out of our hotel in Zimbabwe and headed to the airport. After more than a week of moving through South Africa, Botswana, Zambia, and Zimbabwe, it felt strange to be packing our bags for the final time. We would not arrive back at RDU until Saturday at noon, 33 hours later. 

Our first flight was on Airlink from Victoria Falls to Johannesburg. Once we arrived, we had a nine-hour layover before our United flight to Newark. We went through customs, collected our checked bags, and then realized it was still too early to re-check them. For a while, our whole group settled into an open corner of the airport with our luggage, backpacks, snacks, and nowhere else to be just yet.

After some searching, we found an area big enough for our whole group and all of our bags. That spot became the setting for our final reflection. It was not exactly a conference room, but by that point, we were used to making things work wherever we were. We sat on the floor, surrounded by suitcases, and began trying to process what we had just experienced.

There was something fitting about having our last reflection in between places. We were no longer fully in the trip, but we were not home yet either. We were tired, a little scattered, and still carrying more than we could probably explain in one conversation.

Eventually, we were able to check our bags and board our fifteen-hour flight to Newark. Once we landed in Newark, the goodbyes began. Our group split in different directions: some headed to RDU, some to Charlotte, and Rachel continued on to Seattle. 

After the fifteen-hour flight to Newark, the final flight to Raleigh felt easy. We arrived at RDU around noon on Saturday, July 4, and said our last round of goodbyes at baggage claim. Then everyone started disappearing into cars, Ubers, and family hugs. Slowly, photos began appearing in our group chat of people reuniting with spouses, children, pets, and the familiar pieces of home.

When I got home, I added pins to our family map in the living room. I placed two in South Africa for Johannesburg and Pretoria, then added pins for Botswana, Zambia, Zimbabwe, and Namibia, even if Namibia only counted for about five minutes during our safari.

It was a quiet way to close the loop. After all the airports, classrooms, border crossings, bus rides, wildlife sightings, conversations, and questions, the program had become part of the map at home.

Day 10 did not have the dramatic scenery of Victoria Falls or the energy of a school visit, but it had its own kind of importance. It was the day we began carrying the experience back with us. Not just in our luggage or photos, but in the stories we would tell, the lessons we would build, and the ways the program would keep showing up long after we were home.

#itsaprogram

Day 9: Elephants, Border Crossings, and One Last Rainbow

Day 9, July 2, was our last full day in Africa. We woke up in Livingstone, had breakfast, and made our way to The Elephant Café, an elephant sanctuary experience along the Zambezi River.

The Elephant Café is connected to a herd of rescued African elephants, each with its own story. The herd is unusual because it includes older bulls, females, younger elephants, and calves living together, which is not the typical structure of an elephant herd in the wild. Guests can meet the elephants through a guided, reward-based interaction while learning more about their behavior, histories, and relationships within the herd.

One of my favorite moments was watching an elephant pick food up from the ground, shake the dirt off with its trunk, and then put it into its mouth. It was a small action, but it showed precision and intelligence.

Baboons moved through the background while we were there, including a mother with her baby near the river. After seeing them so often in Livingstone, their presence felt like part of the landscape rather than a surprise.

After leaving The Elephant Café, we returned to our hotel in Livingstone, checked out, and began the transfer from Zambia into Zimbabwe. Along the way, we even spotted a zebra from the bus, one more small wildlife surprise tucked into the day.

At the border, we stamped out of Zambia, drove through the stretch of “no man’s land,” and crossed the same bridge we had photographed from below during the Boiling Pot hike. This time, instead of looking up at it from the river, we were driving across it into Zimbabwe. We stamped into Zimbabwe and continued on to Victoria Falls, where we checked into our new hotel.

The hotel was beautiful, and once we were settled, the pace of the day shifted. Most of our required program activities were finished, so lunch felt like the beginning of a slower final stretch. I celebrated with a piña colada, which felt very appropriate after days of packed schedules, border crossings, school visits, hikes, and early mornings.

After lunch, the rest of the day was open, so Jamesia, Lisa, and I decided to see Victoria Falls from the Zimbabwe side. After visiting the falls from Zambia, hiking down to the Boiling Pot, and seeing the lunar rainbow, I wondered how different it would feel from this side. It was absolutely worth going back.

The Zimbabwe side gave us wide views of the falls, the gorge, the bridge, and rainbows stretching through the mist. In some areas, the spray was so heavy that we needed ponchos, and even then, we were still getting soaked. 

I loved seeing the bridge again from a new angle. Earlier in the trip, we had photographed it from below during the Boiling Pot hike, then crossed it by bus when we entered Zimbabwe. Now we were looking back at it from the trail, with the falls and gorge around us. That bridge became a fun little thread connecting several parts of our time in Livingstone and Victoria Falls.

Walking the path, we stopped at all the viewpoints, taking pictures, laughing in our ponchos, and trying to capture something much bigger than a photo can hold. 

We moved quickly through the falls, hoping we might still have time to visit Elephant Walk Shopping before our 5:15 dinner reservation at The Lookout Café. We did not end up having enough time, so we called Bambino, who had driven us from the hotel to the falls earlier that afternoon. He picked us up again, wearing his leopard print vest and crown, which made the ride feel like its own little event.

The Lookout Café was a beautiful place to spend our last evening. The view from our table looked out over the gorge, with the bridge in the distance and the light beginning to soften. Before we even made it inside, we were greeted by a group of warthogs grazing in the grass out front. To reach the grass, they had to kneel on their front legs, which made me laugh. 

At dinner, Lisa and I ordered “double rainbow” drinks, which felt fitting after a day of elephants, border crossings, Victoria Falls, mist, rainbows, and one last evening in Zimbabwe.

After dinner, Jesse, Graham, and I went to a local brewery. After so many planned activities and group experiences, it was nice to end the night with a slower conversation in a place that felt more local. I tried a Zambezi beer, which seemed like an appropriate final drink after enjoying some memorable adventures near the river that shared its name.

It was a full-circle kind of day without trying too hard to be one. We started with elephants near the Zambezi, crossed into Zimbabwe over the bridge we had seen from below, returned to Victoria Falls for one more look, and ended the night with a beer named for the river.

Day 8: Ebenezer, Sinde Village, and a Circle of Gratitude

Day 8 (July 1) began in Livingstone, where our group split up again to visit different schools and community spaces. My group started at Ebenezer Orphanage / Ebenezer School, where we spent the morning with younger learners.

Before beginning our activity, we peeked into a few classrooms. One space in particular stood out to me because two classrooms were connected, with an open area between them. The students were engaged and participating, which I loved seeing, but the sound carried so much between the rooms that it was hard to imagine trying to teach and learn in that environment every day.

From there, we went to the reading center, where students were being introduced to a new story. Each of us was paired with two learners, and I worked with two boys on Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I began by reading the story aloud and asking them what they thought might happen based on the pictures. Then they took turns reading the story out loud, alternating pages. After reading, they illustrated the story and wrote a short summary.

After the reading center, we went to the kitchen to help stir and serve nshima to the students. The students lined up to receive their portions, clapping and curtsying as they were served. A couple of preschoolers kept running back and forth from their classroom to give hugs, which was another of those small, sweet moments that I will cherish.

Usually, the students wash their own bowls, but our group took over that job for the day. It quickly became clear how busy that task was. There were not enough bowls for every student to have one at the same time, so as soon as one student finished, the bowl had to be washed quickly so it could be used by the next person in line.

After helping in the kitchen, we were asked to make new anchor charts for the school. I was assigned to create a poster comparing wild animals and domestic animals. As I worked, one of the workers watched over my shoulder, fascinated by the drawing process. He asked how I could draw so quickly and confidently. I told him the honest answer: practice.

He wanted to know what he should do if he practiced drawing for 40 minutes every day and how long it would take him to improve. I explained blind contour drawing and told him that I thought it was one of the best exercises for building observational drawing skills. I also told him that a full year of practicing 40 minutes a day would lead to exceptional growth. I appreciated that conversation because it gave me a chance to talk about drawing not as talent alone, but as a skill that grows through observation and steady practice.

Later in the morning, we traveled to what I believe was another Ebenezer School location, possibly for older learners. The classroom setting felt different from the younger students’ space earlier in the day, but the students were just as welcoming.

After our school visits, we returned to the hotel for lunch, where I tried crocodile skewers. I was not sure what to expect, but I really enjoyed them - one more opportunity to try something new while we were in Livingstone.

After lunch, we drove out to visit Sinde Village through the Children in the Wilderness program. Sinde Village is connected to Wilderness Safaris’ Toka Leya Camp and is made up of four smaller villages: Katiba, Lypwaya, Siatela, and Mulauli. Through Children in the Wilderness, students from the local Twabuka Primary School participate in an Eco-Club led by trained Eco-Mentors.

When we arrived, we were taught how to “knock” before entering the home of Senior Chief Musokotwane of the Leya and Tonga people. Instead of walking directly into the compound, we clapped our hands and called, “Odi, Odi,” a respectful way of asking permission to enter. Once we were welcomed in, we sat on mats, benches, and chairs while our hosts shared information about the village and their cultural practices.

One demonstration showed how women can walk long distances while balancing heavy water buckets on their heads, keeping their hands free to carry other items or care for a child. We were able to ask questions while the chief sat nearby observing.

Afterward, we watched the chief play a game in the dirt with his granddaughter. It looked similar to Mancala, but with more rows and a different rhythm to the play. It was one of my favorite moments of the visit because it felt relaxed and personal, a small glimpse of daily life they were willing to share with strangers.

After spending time at the chief’s home, we were invited to walk down the road to visit one of the family compounds in the village. Several children walked along with us, holding hands and staying close as we moved through the sandy paths. We were shown one of the homes, built with mud walls and a thatched roof, and were told that these structures can last around ten years.

Nearby, another house was being built, and we could see the wooden posts already set into the ground for the frame. Outside, chickens moved through the compound, laundry hung along the fence line, and we saw an outdoor latrine with a curtain for privacy. The visit gave us a closer look at the materials, routines, and practical design choices that shape homes there.

As we left, I kept noticing the chief’s presence. He seemed relaxed and approachable, but still carried a quiet authority. From the bus, I watched him talking with our driver and guide, and then he and his granddaughter waved as we pulled away. It felt like a fitting end to the visit. We had been welcomed in, invited to listen and ask questions, and sent off with a wave.

On our way out, we passed a group of boys walking together in a procession. Our driver shared that they were taking part in a coming-of-age tradition - just another reminder that we were only seeing small pieces of much larger cultural practices.

That night, our group reflection brought the day to an emotional close. Sabrina led us in an activity where we stood in a circle with our eyes closed while small groups stepped into the center. They were given prompts like “touch someone you have learned from” or “touch someone you now consider a friend.” It was quiet, simple, and unexpectedly powerful.

After more than a week of traveling, learning, and processing together, the gentle taps on our shoulders became a kind of wordless thank-you. The places we visited mattered deeply, but so did the relationships forming between the people traveling, learning, and processing together.