In October at Art Academy we have the peak of the season. October is for me, as the teacher leading the sessions, the moment I look forward to all year. Because the outside world then delivers material no other season gives us — autumn leaves.
Each is different. Each has its veins, its shape, its colour, its history. Some are still green, yellowing at the edges. Others gold with red borders. Some already brown, dry, almost crumbling in the hand. And the veins on each — small, branching, perfectly symmetrical — form graphics no artist could create from nothing.
In this text I want to tell how, together with the Krasnoludki, we use these autumn gifts of nature. How we turn an October walk into a graphics session. And what specifically is built in a Child’s head when they suddenly notice that a leaf is in fact a drawing made by no one — and that this drawing can now be invited onto their own sheet of paper.
The first discovery — the veins
Every October I begin sessions the same way. I go out with the children to Skaryszewski Park with a piece of tracing paper and soft pencils. Just that. No paint, no drawing paper, no plan. The first day is the day of discovery.
We stand under a tree. We choose a leaf together — one with bright, well-visible veins. I place the tracing paper over the back of the leaf, take the pencil flat and gently move it across the paper. Slowly, in front of the children, on the white tracing paper a map begins to draw itself — the leaf’s veins.
“Look! It is drawing itself!” — I say. The children stand wide-eyed. Because no one has told the pencil to draw anything. The leaf has by itself left on the tracing paper its complete image. Some children do not believe — they want to try themselves. “Yes, you try. Take a leaf.”
Each Child now collects their leaf. Each gets tracing paper and a pencil. Each chooses where to sit — on a bench, on the grass, on a stump. And begins to trace. At first shyly, sometimes ineffectively. After two or three attempts — the effect begins to appear.
And then is born what for me is the heart of this exercise. The Child holds two things in their hand. In one — a real leaf, with its life. In the other — tracing paper with the rendered image of the veins. And suddenly they see that these are twice the same pattern. The leaf is a work of nature. The drawing is the work of the Child. But the pattern — the same.
This is the first pedagogical revelation of the day. Nature is a graphic artist. The leaf is a finished work of art. And the Child, by tracing, is not copying — they are discovering.
Language during the discovery
Here I want to say something about English. Because Art Academy is not only art — it is also language learning. And autumn leaves are one of the best occasions for this teaching.
The vocabulary I introduce during such sessions is very concrete. “Leaf, leaves. Vein, veins. Pattern. Texture. Yellow, gold, red, brown, green. Rough, smooth. Crunchy, soft. Big, small. Round, pointy. Symmetrical, asymmetrical.” Each of these words the Child gets to know in full context — with a specific leaf in their hand.
What matters — I never say “and now repeat after me”. I speak in natural sentences. “Show me a yellow leaf. Show me a small leaf. Whose leaf is the most beautiful?” The children answer — sometimes with a word, sometimes with a sentence, sometimes by holding up a leaf. Every answer is good. Every is appreciated.
After two weeks of such sessions the children carry within them an active vocabulary of a dozen or so English words about autumn. These words are inscribed in body memory — they cannot be forgotten. Because each carries with it the smell of the forest, the texture of a leaf, the weight of a rainy day. Body memory is the kind of memory that stays for life.
Day two — composition
After the day of discovering veins we move to the day of composition. The children have their leaves, they have their tracings — now we make art out of this.
The studio is prepared. Big white sheets — bigger than usual, because autumn deserves a sweep. Glue. Brushes. Black paint. Gold paint. Orange paint. Tracing paper. Small flakes of dry leaves.
I explain to the children what the task is about. “Today we make autumn art. Use leaves. Use bark. Use paint. Make it your own.” And that is it. The rest is improvisation.
Some children begin by placing a leaf in the middle of the sheet. They paint it with black paint and then press it like a stamp. Others like what they discovered the previous day — they return to the veins, drawing them with a thick brush on the sheet. Others still place a leaf on the sheet, around it spread paint with a sponge — and when they remove the leaf, on the sheet remains its silhouette. A white space in colour.
Every technique is good. Every is personal. Every is “my own” — and the children feel it. “Look, this is mine!” — they say with pride.
When the session draws to an end, on the table lie compositions I never expected. Because each Child has added something of their own to the simple idea. One has stuck small flakes inside the leaf, as though they were stars. Another has laid paint in layers — black, then gold, then black again, creating depth. A third has left an almost empty sheet with a single leaf in the corner.
These compositions we hang in our studio and in the corridor. Parents look at them. And every time they hear from me the same — this is not the result of our instruction. This is what the Child has created themselves.
What is built in the Child’s head
Here I want to talk about what is, for me as a teacher, most important. Because leaves, tracing paper, a leaf-print in paint — these are tools. The goal is elsewhere. The goal is in what is happening in the Child while they work with a real, autumn leaf.
The first thing — attention. A Child who has to trace the veins on a leaf must concentrate. They must notice where the veins are. They must press gently with the pencil. They must guide the line precisely. Each of these actions is a micro-training of attention. Children after an hour of such exercises are calm, focused, settled. Because their mind has been trained in a very specific mode — the observational mode.
This attention cannot be taught through commands. “Concentrate!” does not work. “Look carefully!” does not work. Attention is built only through practice. And the practice with a leaf is one of the most beautiful forms of that practice — because the Child is at once focused and joyfully engaged.
The second thing — discovering natural geometry. A leaf has its veins arranged in a specific structure — usually in the shape of a branching tree, with a main trunk and side branches. This structure we call in biology “leaf venation” — and it is characteristic of every species of tree. The maple has one pattern, the oak another, the linden yet another.
A Child who traces leaves of different trees not only sees these differences — they internally remember them. After a year of such sessions they can tell a maple leaf from an oak by the pattern of veins alone. This is encyclopaedic knowledge — but obtained differently than from an encyclopaedia. Obtained through hands, eyes, tracing paper. And therefore lasting.
The third thing — respect for small things. The adult looks at an autumn leaf and sees “a leaf”. The Child who has spent ten minutes tracing it sees a specific network of veins, a characteristic outline, a texture different on one side from the other. The Child sees details the adult does not see.
This capacity for seeing detail is a rare gift. In adult life — it is the foundation of every creative profession. The doctor catches a symptom others miss. The scientist notices an anomaly in the data. The designer sees proportions. The writer hears a single word. All of them have an eye, an ear, a perception trained on detail. And this training begins in childhood — when the Child learns to look at a leaf as if it were the only one.
The fourth thing — English anchored in art. The words the Child learns during these sessions are not memorised. They are observed. They are touched. They are painted. This is an entirely different kind of learning than classical language study. And that is why the results are different.
After years of running Art Academy I see that children who have been through the programme go to school with a different attitude to English than children taught classically. They are not afraid to speak. They do not freeze at a question. They do not treat English as a “school subject” — they treat it as a tool for talking about what interests them. This is true language fluency. And it begins with autumn leaves.
What a Parent can do at home
The first practice — a daily “leaf collection”. Every October walk can be an occasion to gather a few leaves. Let the Child choose for themselves. The more various, the better. After returning home you can press them in a book — a classical technique, known already to our grandmothers. After a week the leaves are flat and you can create with them.
The second practice — tracing at home. A piece of thin white paper and a soft pencil are enough. Let the Child place a leaf under the paper and run the pencil across it. This is meditation — and the Child feels it at once. After twenty minutes of such exercises they are visibly calmer.
The third practice — hanging compositions. Please hang the Child’s autumn works on a wall in a visible place — even on the fridge. Let the Child see their works. Let them return to them with their eyes. This builds in them the awareness that what they have created has, at home, value.
The fourth practice — English in passing. If you know even a little English, you can during a walk through leaves use simple words. “Look at this leaf. So beautiful. The colours. Yellow and red.” These moments of micro-immersion are for the Child’s brain a valuable exercise.
The fifth practice — a trip to the park with a specific goal. Instead of “we are going for a walk” — “we are going to find five different leaves for our collection”. The goal turns the walk into a task. And a task activates the Child’s attention differently than purposeless wandering.
What this is all for
Because the children who finish autumn at Art Academy have in memory something no television programme can give them. They have in memory the image of a leaf whose veins drew themselves on tracing paper. They have the image of paint with which a leaf was pressed like a stamp. They have the image of a studio in which all the compositions were different, but all were with leaves.
And they have in memory something more — the first English words rooted in real experience. “Leaf”. “Vein”. “Pattern”. These words will stay with them for years. Because they were not memorised — they were observed, touched, painted.
I hope our children, when in adult life they go for an autumn walk, will stop by a leaf. Lean down. Look carefully. And say to themselves — “I remember that maple leaves have different veins than oak leaves”. And maybe pick one, take it home, draw with their children.
Because learning through play is what children love most. And autumn is the most beautiful season for this play. In no other month does nature give so generously. In no other is the world so ready to become art.
I thank autumn for coming back every year. And for bringing us, every year, leaves on which we can learn to look.