A child in the Salvador Dali Museum finds his voice.
You’d think a kid who speaks three languages would be impossible to keep quiet. Not the case with Matt Dreyer.
He’s 7, speaks English, Russian and Spanish, and when he started the weeklong junior docent program at the Salvador Dali Museum in downtown St. Petersburg in mid-June, it was tough to drag a word out of him.
He’s kind of shy. Maybe it’s because he’s two years younger than the next youngest junior docent. Or maybe it’s because he’s new to town, visiting with his mother from New Jersey. Several people – including a journalist and a filmmaker who’s making a documentary about the program – have been watching him, so it could just be all the attention, but probably not.
He’s always been a quiet kid. His mother worried like crazy that he didn’t really start speaking until he was 5. Until then, he spoke in fragments. When he was hungry he’d say “food.” “Drink” meant he was thirsty.
Marina Sokolina worried. Was she doing something wrong? Should she find a speech therapist for Matt? Was she a bad mother?
Now, she has reason to worry again. Her son has less than a week to prepare to discuss a Salvador Dali painting in front of an audience.
The junior docent program, now in its 24th summer, teaches kids about the often-bizarre artwork of Spanish surrealist Salvador Dali. Each kid picks a piece they want to learn more about. They learn about the symbolism and themes of the artwork, and at the end of the week they explain the work to the public during a guided tour.
The museum’s surveys of parents suggest that the program can have a positive effect on students’ self esteem.
“These kids become bold,” says Monica Guerrero, education coordinator at the museum. “They like to be in front of the group.”
Until last year, the program was taught by the museum’s professional docents, who know a lot about art but who aren’t necessarily teachers, says Peter Tush, the museum’s curator of education. Then the museum asked local art teachers to help them rewrite the curriculum, which has allowed the program to strengthen the educational experience.
And by getting kids to describe and explain art to others, they gain a deeper understanding of it themselves.
“There’s a lot of pressure on them, in a way, which is unfortunate,” Tush says. “But it gives the students an opportunity to be proud of what they’ve accomplished.”
Matt has chosen a painting called “Eggs on a Plate Without a Plate.” The 1932 painting depicts two fried eggs on a plate on the ledge of a building, with a third fried egg suspended from a line above it. The museum’s professional docents say the eggs represent the gaze of Dali’s wife, Gala, while the hanging egg represents Dali himself.
As Matt rehearses his spiel on Thursday, he clings to his notes and his voice is so small it’s almost inaudible.
Leslie Footlick, an art teacher at Jamerson Elementary School who works with the junior docents, is trying to get Matt to relax a little.
“Are you speaking Spanish? Are you speaking Russian? I can’t hear you.”
She wants him to speak up, try it without the notebook. He’s reluctant.
He explains that the eggs are Dali’s wife’s eyes, though he doesn’t think they look much like eyes.
After another practice presentation, she takes his notes from his tiny hands. This time he speaks a little louder with slightly more confidence.
“… And the string is called the ‘ambilical’ cord. Um. The ‘biblical’ cord.”
Matt didn’t have as big an audience as Sylvia Hopkins, 10, is getting as she rehearses her presentation of two of Dali’s paintings, “Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus” and “Galacidalacidesoxiribunucleicacid (Homage to Crick and Watson)” – which she can actually pronounce. (Can you? Try it: gah lah SEE dah lah SEE de sahk SEE rye boo nu CLAY ick ass id.)
Only Footlick and the journalist watched Matt rehearse. All the students and teachers are watching Sylvia. All except Matt.
He wanders around the gallery. He returns to where she’s speaking and rolls his pencil across the bench in front of the Columbus painting. During breaks from class, he runs in circles around the table.
The big day has come. Saturday. There are about 30 people here for the junior docent tour. Matt’s is the second painting.
He is so small that one of the teachers has to bring out a stool for him to stand on so he can point out the significant parts of the painting. The whole thing is being filmed for a brief promotional documentary, so Matt is wearing a small microphone on the collar of his black “Daliwood” T-shirt.
He reaches for the mike and clears his throat and begins.
“This … this is a real painting,” he explains. “The egg and string represents that he was connected to his mom and dad.” He stumbles the next time he says “represent.” “The other two eggs are present Gala’s eyes, which was really. Beautiful.”
He speaks slowly and clearly enough to be heard in the back of the room. His presentation is over in about a minute.
As the rest of the group moves on to the next painting, Matt’s mother lingers, snapping photos of the painting her son has just explained.
After the tour, the kids and their families gather for a reception.
As she watches her son graduate from the junior docent program, Marina Sokolina beams like a gold-medal winner.
“He looks so small! So tiny!” she says.
She had to make a special arrangement to get Matt into the program, because the program is for kids ages 9 to 13.
Kids younger than 9 aren’t usually allowed in the program, Guerrero says, but because enrollment was low for this session, “we had enough teachers to work closely with him.”
Sokolina thought it would just be something cool for Matt to do during their visit to St. Petersburg. He would broaden his horizons and learn about challenging art and meet new kinds of people.
Now she thinks it was more than that.
"It's like a transformation," she says.