For well over a decade, arts advocates across the country have ordered up studies to show art's measurable benefits to society. Office holders at every level of government have demanded numbers to justify the art line item in the budget. And the success of effective advocacy has kept public funding of the arts in the coffers. Now some "arts thinkers" are wondering if all the focus on the "utility" of the arts has distracted us from the true potential and power of the arts. How do you measure a child's deep music-inspired delight? How do you measure a writer's profound new understanding? How do you measure the transformation that takes place when the great questions of our time are answered on a stage, when a silent voice is found by holding a pen, paintbrush or camera, when hope is found in dancing?
We at Arts North Carolina will continue to advocate with every tool in our toolbox, but we wanted to focus here on what we all intuitively know about the intrinsic value of the arts—its power to shed light, its power to uplift, its power to transform.
Nancy Forsythe joined the Great Smokies Writing Program in 2002 to help her deal with something very personal. Her 83-year-old mother had recently died after a difficult three-year illness. Nancy is a psychologist who had often advised clients to journal about their grief, so she decided to "take her own advice" and attempted to write about the recent ordeal that she and her mother had been through together. The task became too painful and brought back many images of her mother as "a sickly old woman."
In Tommy Hayes' writing class through UNC-Asheville, she realized she wanted to regain the image she had of both her mother and father as she had known them 50 years ago during their healthy, vital days, back when she was growing up in a small North Carolina community. Through her writing, the images of them and of other members of the community came flooding back. "With the help of Tommy and the other wonderful members of my class, I have completed seven stories and am in the midst of writing a novel based on my community in the 1950s and '60s," reports Nancy. "I have also had one story published. So through a painful experience has come the wonderful experience of writing fiction." And writing the fiction has eased the pain.
Tarradiddle Players - 'Tis The Season photo 1
When Connie Welsh died, Charlotte-based Tarradiddle Players, the children's touring theater company she had founded, decided to give a free performance to a needy school in Connie's memory. A woman in Cleveland County who was deeply dedicated to the power of arts in education heard about the plan and applied for the free performance. She requested that the Players perform their holiday show, '
Tis the Season, at a school in her county. The school had a principal who was, at best, "arts indifferent" and, at worst, "arts intolerant."
Tarradiddle Players - 'Tis The Season photo 2
It sounded like the kind of challenge that Connie would have appreciated, so the Tarradiddle Players went to the school—not expecting much to come of it—but happy to take a play to kids that otherwise would have no opportunity to experience live theater.
The teachers and students were ecstatic and loved the show, but it wasn't until several years later that the Players learned the rest of the story. Apparently on seeing the kids' reaction, recognizing the educational potential, and experiencing the pure joy that the production brought to his halls, that principal began to have a change of heart about the arts. And when given the opportunity, he opted to make his school an arts magnet in his county. "That was a great moment in our history!!" says Tarradiddle's Lucy Hazlehurst.
The Healing Force photo 3
The Healing Force photo 1
The children at the elementary school sat on the gym floor with legs crossed, hands folded, in polite anticipation of the show that was about to come to them courtesy of the Down East FolkArts Society. The instant the rhythm of drums started, their eyes lit up, they smiled, they whispered, and they laughed. As Winston-Salem-based storytellers and musicians The Healing Force reached the stage, Mama Anderson raised her hand and thanked the children for their polite behavior and warm welcome. But not everyone had quieted down. One little girl continued to laugh. Soon a teacher was by her side communicating in sign language. Then she too laughed, gave the little girl a big hug and returned to her seat.
The Healing Force photo 4
After the performance, the teacher explained. The little girl was hearing impaired, and this was the first time she had heard anything—ever! Who knows what she heard? Maybe it was a vibration through the floor, a tickle in the ear. But, to her, she was hearing a little of what the other children were hearing, and it was pure delight! She had heard the "Rhythm of the Drums" and thanks to the talented Anderson family, everyone in the gym that morning experienced their "Healing Force."
Burning Coal Theatre Company photo of Debra Gillingham and David Henderson in the Burning Coal Theatre Company production of James Joyce¹s ŒThe Dead¹, a musical adaptation of Joyce¹s classic short story (photo by Chris McMullan/The Right Image Photography, Inc.)
A gentleman called to reserve tickets for Raleigh-based Burning Coal Theatre Company's production of a Shakespeare play. He asked the price of tickets. Artistic Director Jerome Davis told him the price, but added that there was a discount for students, seniors, and active military. "Good," he said, "I'm active military. In fact, I'm shipping off to Iraq on Tuesday. I haven't seen a play in years and I decided I needed to see one before I go. I don't know when I'll be back."
This changed Jerome. "It made me realize how disconnected most Americans are with the arts," he says. "But the disconnect, I believe, is a false one, forged through the incessant mass marketing of commercial fare. When this man's life was on the line, he sought to reconnect with an art form that is fundamentally human—the theater—a place where people gather to consider the great questions of our time." Jerome wasn't sure how he would react to the soldier's presence at the theater that night, but he knew the performance would be among the most meaningful of his life, and hopefully the young man's as well.
Martin Tucker, Photography Coordinator at the Sawtooth Center for Visual Art in Winston-Salem, put out flyers around the Triad hoping to borrow a few black & white negatives from area Vietnam veterans so his darkroom students could print 30-year-old negatives and get a history lesson at the same time. The plan was to give each vet a nice enlargement for participating, and the photos would be displayed on the bulletin board outside the classroom. In addition to the flyers, Martin spoke to local vet groups, asking for their help.
The response was overwhelming. While the vets had lost most of their negatives, in two month's time Martin received more than 2,600 faded and torn snapshots and slides. So the project shifted to digital imaging and his students and volunteers (elementary school through college) scanned 400 of the images, and 60 photos were selected that told the story of what those young men experienced. The images were cleaned up, color was restored, and they were returned to their original condition. A gallery was donated, money was raised to print enlargements, purchase frames and mats, and cover the costs of a reception.
The vets were tape-recorded individually as they talked about their photos, and those interviews were the basis for quote panels that were positioned under each photograph. "A good 90% of the vets had not looked at their photos in 30 or 35 years—they weren't sure they wanted to revisit that time in their lives," says Martin. "But in doing so, they found a voice and they found they could in fact talk to others about the experiences they had kept hidden away, which started the healing process for many of them."
The exhibition is now on a nationwide tour, and it has been featured on NPR's
All Things Considered, and NBC affiliate WXII-TV has been nominated for two EMMY awards for a story on the exhibition. It was also featured in a story in the May/June '05 issue of
Our State Magazine. Martin was given an Art-in-Education grant by the Winston-Salem Forsyth County Arts Council to work with 90 photography students, and using the exhibit as a springboard, mentored them as they created their own documentary stories. "I've been invited back to repeat the project again," says Martin. "And the North Carolina Humanities Council also gave me a grant and they have posted the entire exhibition on their website at www.nchumanities.org." Success breeds success-and healing.
When Harold Crowell was admitted to Western Carolina Center (WCC-a facility for persons with developmental disabilities) in 1975, he was a highly troubled young man. An artist/educator at the Center discovered that Harold was drawing on Styrofoam cups and gum wrappers and any scraps of paper he could find, so he invited Harold to do some drawing with him. Center Director Dr. J. Iverson Riddle recalls, "The educator asked if he could turn one of the classrooms into a studio and let this young man paint and draw. Everyone who knew Harold recognized a remarkable change in him. At the time, he had been depressed, aggressive, angry, not social, and not a lot of fun to be around.
"Seeing how beautiful his work was, and how, over a short period of time, he transformed into a happy person who was no longer aggressive, we just started with him and expanded the program." Harold's success led to the opening of the Signature Home for Artists, officially defined as "a group home for artistically gifted adults who happen to be developmentally disabled." Then a gallery was opened with an adjoining studio, giving Harold and more artists like him a venue to express themselves and show their work. Now Harold's work has been shown in exhibitions across the country, and his work has been published in books. Regarding Harold's remarkable transformation from being a depressed human being to a productive, respected member of his community, Riddle says, "I don't believe anything else would have done that for him but art."
image of Phillip Shabazz during residency
The quietest kid in class, who never raised his hand even to answer a question, is now reading his poems in front of the class. A student ballplayer who rolled his eyes at the idea of poetry now wants to read his poetry to his classmates. Durham Poet Phillip Shabazz conducted a two-week poetry-writing residency with fifth through eighth graders at Carter Community Charter School, and in that short amount of time, students who hardly said a word are now expressing themselves and raising their hands to answer a question or to ask a question. "It's just really been amazing," is the consensus of the teachers at Carter Community Charter School.
At The Light Factory, a Charlotte-based arts center dedicated to photography and film, artist Charles Thomas worked with a group of students, many of whom had little or no proficiency in the English language. At the culmination of their ArtsTeach-funded grant, English as a Second Language (ESL) students presented photographed self portraits along with a story written in English.
Dominique's story was one of poverty and slaughter in Sierra Leone. He witnessed the desecration of his home and murder of his father by rebel soldiers. Then American soldiers evacuated him and his family. His photograph depicts him in a soldier's uniform, his words a message of the great pride he has in living in our country. According to Dominique, all he wants is to join the armed forces to "help his community rebuild his country."
"He hadn't said a word all morning," a nurse said in astonishment of her pajama-clad patient sitting in his wheelchair. Yet she had just witnessed him engaging Sam Morrison for fifteen minutes in a discussion about a painting he saw Sam hang in one of the many art exhibits at Duke Hospital. "Many times I've seen a great work of art produce a kind of contentment in a patient's face," says Sam, Visual Arts Coordinator for the Health Arts Network at Duke University Medical Center. "Viewing art provided this patient with an opportunity to view himself as more than his illness. This positive state of being, be it intellectual or psychological, is definitely spiritual, and that has to have a definite physical effect. I love this work!"
Elizabeth Haskin sits on the floor with a 7-year-old girl who has almost no vision. The girl is waiting to have eye surgery and Elizabeth is there to help her make art to ease the tension, the hunger, and thirst. Like all surgery patients, she hasn't eaten since the night before and both she and her parents are anxious and restless.
Elizabeth offers the girl the heavy drawing foil from the Art Cart. "She is ecstatic, scribbling ferociously to create a raised drawing on the reverse side," says Elizabeth Haskin, Eye Center Arts Coordinator for the Health Arts Network at Duke. The nurse comes with pre-anesthesia medication and the girl accepts it. Her parents smile and express their gratitude. As her father accompanies his daughter down the hall, her mother asks Elizabeth where they can buy these materials so that they can all "play" with them at home, together, rested and fed.
A young boy is curled on his side in his bed and he can't stop coughing. When asked if he would like to write something, he is reluctant, but when asked about his home, he begins to speak sporadically. His words are taken down as he describes his yard, his two pet dogs, the path to his grandparents' house, the wild turkeys that sometimes come out of the woods. As he continues, he slowly sits up and begins to talk more animatedly. He is carried away by his own story and the image of his home. He has not seen it in a year—since the beginning of his bone marrow transplant and the following rounds of treatment.
"As he suddenly begins to gobble like a turkey, I look up from writing and meet his mother's gaze," says Grey B. Brown, his scribe and the Literary Arts Coordinator for the Health Arts Network. "We nod, both realizing that her son has completely stopped coughing. He is sitting upright in his bed, his breathing is strong and his face animated, full of energy as he describes the spiders in the carport, his basketball court..."
Health Arts Network at Duke photo 2
In the waiting area for chemotherapy treatment, an elderly patient asks his wife to dance to the violinist's music. After their whirl together he says to the musician, "You have taught us that despite a stinking diagnosis, life is not over until it is over, and we will dance a little and listen to music everyday."
Health Arts Network at Duke photo 3
The woman, suffering from an acute psychiatric disorder appears stiff, distant, and non-responsive. The pianist begins playing and singing familiar popular tunes. The woman opens her eyes, stands up, and begins to dance. Several minutes later she is still dancing, with a soft smile on her lips. Then she sits back down, listens, and rests. In a few minutes, she is up on her feet again, moving, smiling, waving her arms.
Health Arts Network at Duke photo 1
A nurse dances with a patient recovering from a heart transplant as he circles around and around in the cardiac ward. They exchange a smile as if realizing the miracle of the moment.
For a kid who had never touched a musical instrument before 2002, Aaron Jones has experienced a meteoric rise in the music world. Raised by a single mother, Aaron is a soft-spoken, low-key kind of guy who kept his excitement about joining the instrument loan program and learning bass to himself at first. But his instructor, Mara Barker, immediately saw a great talent in her fourth grade student, watching him quickly surpass the more experienced students.
Now a seventh grader at Kiser Middle School, Aaron is continuing his training under the leadership of Britany Green (even skipping football practice when he feels the need of additional help with the bass). And he auditioned and was selected to play in for the All County Orchestra! Aaron is also the principal bass player for the Greensboro Symphony Orchestra Youth Orchestra and was awarded a scholarship for private lessons with Mara Barker. With the continued support of the Greensboro Symphony Orchestra and Kiser Middle School, Aaron has a stellar future with the bass.