Unlocked & Free, 2019

 In February 2019, I had the opportunity to travel to Haiti on an arts and culture exchange experience hosted by Lee Rainboth, director of the Jacmel Arts Center. I spent a total of eight days there enjoying the Caribbean weather and getting to know many artists @santdajakmel. My mission was not only to enjoy myself and learn about the culture, but also to find objects, bring them back with me and create a new series of #ahsumblah inspired by the trip. 

With my work being #foundobjects based, I never know exactly what I might find, but heading into this experience I at least knew what I wanted to say. I wanted the new series to signify Haiti’s proud yet turbulent history, which I think I accomplished, particularly with this first piece. I’ll explain how acquired each of these objects, but first a little background on Haiti.

You probably didn’t hear much about the Haitian insurrection in history class. It began in 1791 when self-liberated slaves revolted against their French colonial oppressors. Haiti would eventually gain its independence in 1804, becoming the first free black republic. Toussaint Louverture, a former slave and hero of the revolution emerged as the first president of this new sovereign nation. Of the Forty-five Haitian presidents since then, twenty-three have been overthrown, two were assassinated, one was executed and one committed suicide. 

Haiti has had a troubled road all it’s life, not only because of political corruption and instability, but also because of environmental and health issues, cholera outbreaks brought on by lack of sanitation, food insecurity brought on by overpopulation, deforestation and other natural disasters including the catastrophic 7.0 magnitude earthquake in 2010 that killed thousands.

Ten years later the scars from that tragic event are still visible in many places. Swipe to image 6 and 7 to see one example and two friends I made at the JAC. Tektek and Meger Samedi are freaking hilarious, and even though they are no strangers to a life of struggle, they are always smiling and laughing. 

One day they saw me snooping around this large, mostly abandoned building across from the arts center. Rather than shoo me away, they were kind enough to show me the inside and give me a tour. It turned out to be the former home of Boucard & Co. Coffee, built in the early 1800’s. The facility is now inoperable since the earthquake pretty much destroyed it.  This is where I found the tile piece and the lock.

Meger actually worked there when he was a kid. And to my surprise the antiquated machinery was mostly in tact. Amongst the rubble there were gears and pulleys and drawers and trays issuing in all directions. Once upon a time they processed coffee beans here, packaged them and shipped across the water. Hopefully someday this site will be acquired by the JAC and fixed up so they can expand their creative mission.

This arrangement wouldn’t be complete however without the third and final object, the old rusty key, which we stumbled upon on a different day. I was walking along a bustling street in Jacmel with fellow American Aubrey Barnes a.k.a. @poeticaubs, the only other person on the trip, Lamitie, manager of the JAC, and an abstract painter by the name of Jadrix Louis (image 9). 

Jadrix was the person that I connected with most during my visit and the only one to spot the key randomly laying in the gutter. Jadrix was aware of my passion for #foundobjects because we talked a lot about it, and although he also collected objects for his art, he gave me the key as a show of friendship without a moment’s thought. I’ll never forget when he suddenly bent down to pick it up and then handed it to me without breaking stride. It was such a selfless act, to hand over such an amazing find. The first piece of my Haitian series literally came together in that perfect moment. I will always treasure these memories and these objects.

*If you made it all the way to the end of this, message “unlocked & free” for a free collage.

Insider Art

I want to share one of my proudest accomplishments as an art teacher so far, working with inmates as a part of the Insider Art program, which is sponsored by the Indianapolis Art Center. Kat Toebes mentioned the program in conversation a few months back and I knew I had to be a part of it somehow so I asked her if I could help. Luckily she was in need of at least a couple of educators who could provide quality instruction to a small group of young men ages 16 and 17.

Jeff Jefferies has been involved with the program before it became one of the Art Center's community programs. He's been involved since the beginning. Jeff has developed a positive report with the inmates, but he lacks the ability to structure it educationally. That's where Kat, Ethan Culleton and I come into play. Together the four of us have developed lessons into a curriculum that is meant to:

• Inspire students to use their innate creativity in positive ways
• Foster empathy and cooperation through the creative process
• Build art skills, knowledge and visual literacy
• Provide a safe, positive opportunity for self-expression and formation of identity
• Encourage positive community impact and opportunities to give back through art 

http://indplsartcenter.org/outreach/artreach/insider-art/

I had to do a brief training session before I was permitted to enter. The presentation covered a range of important things to know and of course some things that might happen. I wasn't nervous about any violence happening towards me, because they always put a hulking officer in the classroom and Jeff is pretty large himself. When they talked about inmate con games, I started to wonder just how effective they might be. Aside from the training I received, all I knew going in was that some of these inmates are facing long sentences for commiting very serious crimes while others may be released before long. Jail is where they await sentencing so they are very much in a state of limbo. But these particular inmates are still just boys who need someone to remind them that their lives are still valuable. They just need an outlet, which will hopefully keep them out of trouble in the future.

Many of these youths who wind up in jail are victims of their circumstances. Sure it boils down to the poor life choices that they make, but when they grow up detached from their community in an enviornment with no one to encourage them to find a path to success, its no wonder they wind up in these situations. I find the overcrowded prisons and the disproportionate number of male African Americans being incarcerated to be shameful, and I factored this in as I came up with my lesson. Self portraits, set against a back drop of headlines from the Indianapolis Star newspaper. I simply told them to rip out headlines that contained words that struck them in a certain way. Then I showed them how to collage them onto a canvas board. They did these steps on the first day, then using gesso they prepared an area to draw on for the second visit one week later. On the second visit I began by doing a brief lesson about proportions and they drew their self portraits using a mirror.

I will say that walking in day one I was a little intimidated. I mean this is a jail, and I am going in to it voluntarily! Jail, for those who have never been in one, is about what you might expect. The walls are blank, the atmosphere is sterile. There's green metal bars and electronic gates buzzing loudly everywhere you go, and it smells like urine (I don't want to guess why). The inmates walked in single file, wearing their green jumpsuits. They plopped straight down with an attitude that reminded me of my days in middle school. Each one of them was taller than me, except for one who was more wide than he was tall. I swallowed my initial fear and just went straight into it. I didn't care to know and they did not have to share with me why they were in jail, but one spoke out with, "Tryin to get that money!" This made generated a laugh and actually helped to lighten the mood.

These guys weren't scary. I found them to polite and respectful and very pleasant to work with. They gave me an honest shot, which I appreciated. I enjoyed helping them hunt through the newspapers for pertinent words and phrases such as: Second chance, hopeful living and hard road ahead. Come to find out, they don't get to read the paper in jail. Can you believe that? I really enjoyed this project and I could tell that they did as well when they proudly presented their work in the chapel at the jail two weeks later. That was the moment when I realized that my dream of helping others has come true and I'm doing good work (see previous post). Two more sessions of Insider Art this year. I'll teach the same thing twice more, and go from there . . .

"Suspicious"

"Help Me"

"Money Man"

"Legend Boy"

"Role Model"

"The Warrior"

Forensic Art

In the early 2000's I was enrolled as a college student, but I had no direction. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with my future. I knew that the only thing I was (at least somewhat) good at was drawing, and I knew I wanted to help people as a career. So I thought why not put the two things together? I got the idea to become a police sketch artist, but I lacked the training.

In 2003 I signed up for a week long workshop at the Scottsdale Artists School in Arizona. It was put on by a forensic artist named Karen T. Taylor. She literally wrote the book on the subject. She has worked with the F.B.I., America's Most Wanted and various other crime enforcement agencies. Her composites lead to many captures and her facial reconstruction work helped to identify victims whose bodies were badly decomposed. 

Karen had many fascinating stories to tell. Not only did I have fun in Scottsdale, but I learned quite a bit. For example I learned that the job prospects are low. I had no chance without an art degree or a career as a police officer or some other area of criminal justice. One way to work your way up is to volunteer your services. If you get hits, they'll call on you more frequently. This did not sound like a sure way to support myself. Plus most departments don't have an artist on staff,  unless you're talking about New York City. Also computers have mostly supplanted artists who do draw by hand, so I got discouraged and put the idea on the back burner.

I still wanted an art degree however so I transferred to Herron in 2005. The process really began right after the workshop in '03. I took care of some necessary credits at IUPUI to raise my GPA before they would let me in. After my foundation year I was told I had to choose a path. I chose Art Education as a major because Herron's Art Ed program is highly regarded. I believed that it would land me a job right away and I was right. The Art Center hired me in 2009 and I got a full time job in 2010 teaching middle school. The workload was heavy. I stopped drawing faces all the time. I fell in love with sculpture and gradually as I put the emphasis on teaching, my dream of becoming a forensic artist began to fade. Perhaps someday I will revisit the idea of becoming a police sketch artist . . .

Valedictory Address

Some friends and family have asked about the speech I gave to the Art Academy of Cincinnati's graduating class of 2016. They wanted to know what I said because they weren't able to attend, probably because I didn't invite anyone other than my mom. I was going to withhold the contents of this speech just as Hillary Clinton refuses to divulge the transcript of the speech she gave to Goldman Sachs, but I decided to put it on here. First I will share what my day was like leading up to that moment. If you're only interested to read the speech you may want to skip on down . . .

I woke up at five a.m. groggy. I had an overwhelming amount of things to accomplish before noon when I was supposed to leave for Cincinnati, but I was going to try to knock it all out anyway. I pried myself from bed and hit the gym to play basketball as I normally do on Fridays. I figured it would get the blood flowing, which it did, but I had not played in a month so I performed very poorly.

After basketball I went to lay out the instructions for my sub, which went pretty smoothly. Then I had to run some errands, the most important of which was a bill I had to pay. But first I had to pull money from the bank and buy a money order. The bank's system was down company wide, which was most inconvenient. I drove to three different locations and at one point on the circle I got completely rerouted. Finally I slayed that dragon and then I moved on to the CCIC.

This was a first Friday and my Model-T was included as a part of the Herron thesis exhibition in the same space that hosted the winter farmers' market. I did not get to attend the opening, but I wanted it to shine, so I put some finishing touches on the car and rushed to meet my mom. She graciously agreed to drive me since I have been having car trouble. I was late to meet her but would not have been if not for all the set backs. 

We met at my apartment where I changed clothes quickly and then I bought us some coffee. But before hitting the road, I had to drop off another artwork to the Coalyard for another First Friday exhibit. My piece was not warmly received due to political content, despite the fact that the art coordinator had seen it already and she said I could install it. When I explained this to the owner, she reluctantly agreed to allow it, but I felt insulted and I decided not be a part of that showing. 

I had more of my time wasted at the public library in Irvington where I tried to print off my speech. Some guy was printing a 100 page document at the same time and my speech was intermingled with his document. First I had to wait an additional 10-15 minutes for his job to finish printing and then we had to go through the stack one page at a time to find my speech.

All this rushing around made me feel nervous about giving the speech thinking what else could go wrong . . . More did go wrong. I was starving and in a terrible mood. I said, "Mom we gotta find something to eat." We naturally thought Jimmy John's because it's quick, but we got lost trying to find it. When we finally did, I was so hungry that I ate my whole sandwich with chips and also half of hers and then I went back through the line to buy a cookie. 

We rolled into Cincinnati at about a quarter to four without running in to any more trouble. We pulled up out front of the school and I dashed in to pick up my cap and gown which was waiting for me at the front desk. We parked behind the school and began our walk to the Contemporary Art Center where everyone was assembling. As I was tearing open the packaging and throwing on my cap and gown (which did not fit me right) I started receiving texts from people asking where the hell I was at. Luckily I was just down the street.

As soon as I walked up out of breathe, Keith Benjamin immediately grabbed me and I was in a photo with him. Kim Krause explained what I needed to do on stage, and then I was told to jump to the front of the line as the first student behind the professors, because I was the only one graduating with a master's. We began our procession to the Renaissance Hotel a moment later lead by bag pipes. My mom followed off to the side. We were congratulated by strangers on the street filming and taking pictures as we walked by. It was surreal to suddenly go from such a hectic day in Indianapolis to a bag pipe procession in Cincinnati. The sun was beaming, roasting me inside of my black gown. I was so tired that I wanted to find a cardboard pallet on the street to curl up on and sleep for four days. I told myself to absorb this feeling and take a moment to be proud of what I've accomplished. Here's the speech . . .

First I would like to say thank you to my mom and all the parents and family here today. I would like to thank the Art Academy faculty and staff for this tremendous honor and for their hard work each and every day. I would also like to congratulate the graduating artists and my fellow graduating masters students of which there are none. And that means . . you guessed it . . I'm the de-facto valedictorian. Therefore it is my pleasure to say a few words to you today. Interesting side note, I also have the distinction of being the only valedictorian in history to barely maintain a 3.0 grade point average . . and you better believe I'm putting it on my resume. Which reminds me, a piece of advice . . Don't take yourselves too seriously. Learn to laugh at yourselves, because  if you don't there's always plenty of people willing to do it for you.
Yes the arc of my career as an artist and teacher thus far, has certainly been strange and at times kind of funny. But strange is good. We're artists, we like strange. Back in my first year of undergrad at Herron in Indianapolis a strange thing happened that I would like to tell you about . . .
It was holiday break 2006, a few days before Christmas when my dad died of cancer. It took a few weeks to settle his affairs and arrange the funeral service, something that doesn't come with a manual for a 25 year old to read, or any person for that matter.
I had it mostly covered in time to begin a new semester of art school all while balancing a full time job waiting tables. But the hurt of losing my father hadn't yet set in; It didn't have time to. Here's the strange part. It was not the first day back to school but a couple in when the acting student council president approached me totally out of the blue and offered to have me assume her role since she was transferring to a different school. I am still clueless as to why she picked me. Growing up I was never that guy to take on a leadership role, but I decided why not and I accepted. Next thing you know, I was arranging guest artist speakers, field trips and special events. And I started making new friends. My service as class president was dynamic, interesting and fun. And the school acknowledged that I was making an impact. I knew I had found a home there and I knew I was making the right choices in life.
I went on to become a teacher and now I groom high schoolers to become tomorrow's artists. It's my dream job. I want to pinch myself sometimes I feel so lucky, but recently I realized it hasn't been luck. Sure I've caught some breaks and I've had some help along the way, but it's the deliberate choices I made and the humility to accept that I don't know it all that has lead me here today. It's been the dogged effort to help others, and to grow and get better that has transformed me into a know-nothing day dreamer, to a know-nothing day dreamer who's headed somewhere.
So listen to that voice inside your heads telling you to go for it and take the plunge. So the hell what if you're not good at it right away, that's all the more reason to do it. You learn the rules and then you invent them and then why not go ahead break your own rules . . . why? Because you're graduating into a world that doesn't know how bad it needs your creativity and your clarity of vision. Sure you'll get discouraged and wonder if you're doing the right thing every now and then. When that happens just say these words and repeat after me . . I'm an ARTIST . . I'M an artist . . I'M an ARTIST? and keep making. Thank you

They had a guy playing an African drum during the ceremony off to the side of the stage. I didn't really notice him until after I gave the speech when he started beating. I heard applause and drumming as I hurried back to my seat. I'm not comfortable in the lime light. The walk back to my seat was the strangest part for me. A little later I embarassed myself by not knowing where to go as they handed out the diplomas on stage. A lot of people probably saw me back into the girl behind me because I was confused. Oh well, if that was the worst part then I guess I did alright. Afterward, mom and I got a delicious beer at one of my favorite places in Over the Rhine and I took a well deserved nap on the ride home.

Symposium 2016

It was an honor to be included this year at Symposium. I think it is a splendid idea. This is one day in the spring when only the teachers gather at Herron to hold a special day of learning and professional development. If you're an educator reading this, you're probably thinking, "What's the big deal? Our school does this and it's boring and I hate it." I always have hated these types of things in the past too, but the philosophy behind Symposium is different from the usual mundane sit and get format.

Because Herron is so connected to the surrounding neighborhood, outdoor beautification is a big part of this initiative. At past Symposiums Herron faculty members have gone out to do yard work and plant flowers for some of the neighboring houses. Previously teachers collaborated to improve the school by building special projects and fixing things that needed fixing. And of course for each Symposium, breakfast and lunch are provided. Score! I couldn't wait to see what they had in store for us this year . . I wondered would it be bagels? Donuts?? Potato casserole??? They had all the above and Yats for lunch! Whoo-hoo!

With this being Herron High School's ten year anniversary, they decided to go with a theme of looking back. My department chair, Trevor Renwick attended Herron back when it was an art school and he's been one of the only teachers to teach at Herron the entire ten years since it has become a charter school. He is one of a small handful of people who can really speak to what this neighborhood is and what it was. He lead off this Symposium with a presentation of what Herron was like as an art school prior to leaving in 2005.

I'm a Herron grad myself, but I was part of the first crop of artists to attend the new building on the campus at IUPUI all four years. It was a gleaming new building that many people rightfully say has less character. I've heard stories that made me jealous of what the old Herron was like, but Trevor really took us back there. He began by saying that he had approval ahead of time to present the R rated version, but he didn't know our head of school, Janet McNeal would be in attendance. We all laughed and braced ourselves for what we knew would be an entertaining half hour or so . . .

Just to prep you, the once proud Herron Morton neighborhood where I now teach was down right awful for a few decades, especially during the late nineties when Trevor was an art student at Herron. There was grafitti everywhere, on all the walls inside the school and all over the place outside too. Back then it wasn't uncommon to hear somebody got mugged just getting out of their car to go to class. You had to be careful. There were many boarded up houses and vacant properties along 16th and Pennsylvania as well as Talbott Street. The neighborhood was full of drug attics and miscreants, bums and wayward vagrants, and of course art students.

Trevor shared a story of witnessing EMT's responding to a situation where a man had hung himself from a tree behind a house that is still there today, of course that house is no longer a crack den. One night he and some friends were eating pancakes at the IHOP, which is now a CVS, they were barely surprised when authorities arrived to remove a body from a dumpster out back. It was just the way things were, but that is no longer the case. The area is coming back and is currently experiencing a gentrification process. There are quaint shops, dining options and hip coffee joints, I'm sitting in one of those now. Most of the homes have been revived and property values are higher than ever, much higher than anything I can afford.

When the art school pulled out, it left a tremendous gaping hole in the community which bares it's name. That hole would soon be filled thanks in large part to Joanna Taft, our keynote speaker. Joanna and her husband had the idea to turn it into a charter high school, but had no idea how to go about it. With dogged determination, they found the necessary funds to establish Herron and thus spark a revival process in the neighborhood they live in and have loved for more than twenty years. Joanna is still on the board. She hired Janet McNeal who is still our head of school. They shared memories of the early days that inspired me and filled me with pride that I am a part of it now.

In those first few years, Herron had only about a hundred students. No one knew if this thing was going to work. There were trailor pods on the grounds outside because some of the rooms weren't quite up to code yet. Ten years later, we're now a nationally recognized, 4 star school with a 99% graduation rate. We've got more than 900 students and a long waiting list to get in. It really is remarkable to look back on what has been built. The most exciting part is they are planning to do it all over again in a new location in a similar neighborhood that is sorely in need of revival. It's still in the works so I really cannot blog about it. We visited this potential new location after lunch. It was the big finale of the 2016 Symposium. I can't wait to watch this happen all over again!

What would be the lunchroom of the new charter high school. Can't say where at the moment.

Emmaunel Harper speaking at Symposium

Head of School, Janet McNeal signing a stack of diplomas

Damn thing won't let me adjust this picture. But this is me exploring the site of our potential new school. It's top secret, but if you figure it out on your own then good for you . . . 

Jazz Band

Herron has a full jazz band consisting of 16 musicians, and they're pretty good (in my untrained opinion). Mr. Horgeshimer is their leader. He has done a remarkable job with this wiley bunch. All of them are boys, except for one girl who plays the trombone and the French horn (poor thing). Mr. H. had a family matter to attend to so I filled in for him today. I was told ahead of time that jazz band is perhaps the most difficult assignment that a sub could get . . because of the part where I said it's 16 high school students with noise-making devices and I am a substitute who knows practically nothing about music.

The instructions said basicallly to take attendance and then let Chester (not his real name) lead the group. My role on this day was to intervene only when needed. If the players did not want to listen to Chester, I was to make them listen. I laid down the law right from the beginning. I told them, "I don't know anything about music, but I know what good music sounds like, and I want to hear a lot of it being played today. Chester is in charge and you need to do what he says. Mr. H. will throw a fit if he gets a negative report from me." I would say they rose to the challenge.

After these remarks Chester practically shouldered me out of the way. He is a senior and has performed all four years he has gone to school at Herron, so he knows exactly what he's doing and he knows there's no time for fooling around. Chester is an awesome saxophone player, and a very bright student. He does not get a lot of respect from his peers however. The reason being . . well how to put this politely . . Chester is somewhat of a nerd.

It's a tall order for Mr. H, a seasoned instructor, to corral these teens into a decent band, let alone a nerd like Chester, but god bless him, Chester never lost his cool even though his bassist and his drummer openly mocked him and held side conversations most of the time. They rolled their eyes every time he gave directions and basically behaved like condescending jerks. He is fully aware of what his band mates think of him, but never backed down on this day and never seemed intimidated by the moment. Chester just kept leading, "Sammy you were a little flat on the third measure. Tommy don't be late when we hit that second part. You guys aren't playing with any energy." It was the most impressive display of leadership that I've ever seen from a student.

They wrapped with a fifteen minute improptu jam session, that sounded really good. And while I didn't leave a glowing report for the group as a whole, I did laud Chester's performance in a note to Mr. H. I found out later from an anonymous source that (at leaset in her opinion) it was the best behavior that that band had ever shown with a sub in the room.

Chess Club

Of all the surprises in my life and career, becoming a chess club sponsor would have to be near the top. Growing up I never had any interest in games that would stimulate my mind intellectually, unless it were a video game. A friend of mine retaught me how to play a few years back, and I got hooked. We had weekly matches before he moved away. I think I lost all but two of them. I'm still terrible at it, but I try to approcach life as a game of chess, anticipating moves, averting disaster, protecting the king, so on and so forth . . .

In 2014 when I was still teaching middle school I decided why not start a club? In retrospect, I was probably already too bogged down, but we hadn't had a chess club in many years, and I felt (and still feel) that it is an important thing for any school to offer. I didn't do it for the purpose of scoring brownie points with the administration, although I knew it would be something that could not be overlooked come review time. I did it because there were many students who needed a positive extra curricular opportunity and a new way to make friends.

I proposed this idea to my principal and she agreed to fund twenty new chess sets. To my surprise there were dozens of students interested in joining my newly created club. I think we peaked at around forty students out of a population of about 1,000. We gathered in the library on Thursdays after school. A couple other teachers joined not only to fulfill their mandatory service hours, but also because they enjoyed chess and wanted to share that with our students. When I quit that job, I left the club in good hands with them.

Fast forward to the beginning of my time as a teacher at Herron. I was shocked to find out that there was no chess club at this school either. All teachers are required to provide some sort of extra curricular opportunity, but my department chair said that being a long term sub, I wasn't expected to do this, but I did it anyway. I submitted a couple of announcements and at first I thought I was only going to have five or six members. But on the day of our first meeting 17 showed up!

We took the first meeting outside in the front lawn area in front of Russell Hall, known colloquially as the Museum building. The weather was absolutely perfect. Assistant Head of School, Mr. Gilchrist even poked his head out, shook my hand and congratulated me for putting this together so quickly.