Art & Media Technology (AMT) Column: Fall 2023

Puente de San Pablo

Guest columnist: Jane B. Montero

This past July, my husband and I spent 2 weeks traveling around Spain; mostly visiting his cousins who live in the northern province of Navarre, but we did have a few days to explore on our own. And explore, we did. Zaragoza, Castillo de Loarre, Segovia, and Cuenca. But, of all of these amazing places, the most unbelievable discovery was Cuenca, a World Heritage Site located in the autonomous community of Castilla-La Mancha (Rodriguez, n.d.).

Getting to Cuenca wasn’t easy, and the 5-hour drive led us through valleys and mountain passes. However, once we arrived at our hotel, we were in awe of the surroundings. We stayed in the Hospedería del Seminario, an 18th-century building on the gorge of the Júcar River with an incredible view of the mountains from our third-floor window. Streets in Cuenca are narrow, and there’s a constant hum of scooters traveling to the top of the town. It wasn’t the brightly painted houses in the plaza, nor the famous cathedral that caught our attention… it was the bridge connecting a former monastery (now a parador) to the rest of the city, leading to the famous hanging houses (casas colgadas) that are home to a world-renowned abstract modern art museum.

It was the bridge.

The original bridge of Saint Paul (Puente de San Pablo) was built from 1533 to 1589. It eventually collapsed, and the current one (built in 1902), made of wood and iron, is supported by the remains of the original bridge. The overall bridge is up to 40 meters high (131 feet), and the planks move slightly under the weight of people walking across. As someone who is extremely scared of heights, there was no way on earth I was going to be able to walk across the bridge. Period. However, being someone who does not like to give up on a challenge, I was determined to at least try to walk a few steps out onto it. With my knees shaking, breath shortening, heart racing, and a slight sense of nausea.… I made it out about 10 planks before having to return to the safety of the asphalt sidewalk. Slightly exhilarated, but extremely petrified, I walked back to our hotel room; neither successful nor a complete failure.

[[image #### "Photo by Jane Montero."]]

It was the bridge again.

The next morning, after a lovely Spanish breakfast, I decided to try it again. If I could just go a bit farther… maybe even to the first main column supporting the bridge. Determined to achieve this mini-milestone, I took a deep breath and walked out onto the bridge… and kept going… a bit more; not halfway, but I made progress! The feeling of success swept over me, even though I was nowhere near halfway across and my knees were shaking uncontrollably; I was farther than the day before. Progress.

Progress.

Since returning home from Spain, I’ve thought about that bridge every single day and how it relates to teaching. How do we move forward in the face of our own fear? How do we reconcile leaving a place of comfort to enter a new territory? What keeps us stuck in one place, frozen in time? If we are going to stay on track with emerging technologies in art education, we have to be open and willing to risk our current comfort zone for a bit of discomfort in the new learning environment. And if we can try—just for a bit—to make small progress each day, we just might find ourselves embracing what we once feared and acknowledging the many new ways to technology can enrich our students’ lives as well as ours.

[[image #### "Photo by Peter Montero."]]

Reference

Rodriguez, V. (n.d.). Cuenca. In Encyclopedia Britannica. Retrieved July 24, 2023, from https://www.britannica.com/place/Cuenca-province-Spain

Tim Needles, AMT Chair
Email: tneedles@smithtown.k12.ny.us