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.