LOST IN TRANSLATION

Krieger Schecter Day School was my third major mural project of four done with Rebuilding thru Art Project to date. As with the Healthcare for the Homeless mural, a lift was needed to reach the top of the piece, along with scaffolding on the main wall. The mural was interesting look at Jewish culture. It was a product of the many intricacies added by volunteers from the Day School and synogauge. Jay had created the storyline of the mural in a way that stories from the Torah were told in pastel colors- a decision made in part because lighting was a precious commodity along the kindergarten hallway. As always, the way Jay pulled the final outline of the mural together was amazing. It was an intensive course on the customs and beliefs of his faith, which shared the same roots as what I had been taught in the Pentacostal faith I was more familiar with. For three months I was given the opportunity to execute the piece with Jay and a handful of other student artists. For three days a week, both while classes were in session, and afterwards, we worked from top the top level down to the bottom. Little feet would patter by as we listened to four and five years olds try to make sense of the world transforming outside their classroom doorway. Relationships were crafted from the conversations that naturally arise when working so closely with someone for months. But as with all the major projects, there was also time to lose yourself in the work and the mural taking place bit by bit by the brush tips. By the end of it all- there were four main spaces of the school completed, and while I started not knowing a word- I had assisted with a whole mural written for the most part in Yiddish.

EVERYONE DESERVES TO GO HOME

Not long after the first year of Flowermart, Jay called and asked if I would like to try my hand in mural painting. Of course I didn't. I wasn't a painter. Hated the painting coursework I had to complete as an art major. And knew nothing about the expression. Then I realized that just like the ceramic piece to the community art class, it wasn't about executing everything correctly. It was about putting feeling into your work and keeping in mind the reason why you're doing it. The reason: Healthcare for the Homeless- Jay had a commission to put a mural up on the side of their Downtown Baltimore building that was an all- encompassing piece. Though I wasn't a painter- Jay quickly explained that there "are no mistakes in art." Something I think back to everytime I drive on I-83 and see something I thought was horribly wrong at the time- a wrong color- a frail outline, a blend that seemed less than fluid. There are no mistakes in art- especially not in community art. It is ever changing- constantly coming from ourselves and mixing with the ideas of others. Though I wasn't a part of the actual workshops that produced the ideas and topics the final product would touch on, I was asked to take part in the community workshops that would actually paint the 120+ panels needed and then later, fix them to the side of the building via lift. Hundreds of volunteers from both Bank of America and Chase showed up to take part in the community days. Connecting with the different people of all ages and colors over art was a feeling that only comes when you know you're working in your passion with others of the same mind. Both volunteers from the community and patrons of the facility were on hand to help execute the project- but putting up the mural was another story. ____________________________________________________________ Installing the mural was a challenge on every level. For starters, the mural began 30 feet off the ground, which meant a lift had to be used to reach the top of the building. Every day for 6 days Jay, Edwin Calderon, another Morgan art student, Liza- an intern from MICA, and I met at 6 am. We worked from sun-up to sun-down completing the same process over and over. We layed out a section of the mural. Put a sturdy binding glue on the back, passed the panel to the duo in the lift and got the next panel ready as they took the lift up and affixed it to the wall. Though monotonous at time, again, the goal in mind was to bring attention to the issues of homelessness through art- and it was enough to keep everyone going. Each panel had it's own memories and meaning. Who were we to get tired and sloppily apply it or cut corners? It was truly an experience I'll never forget, as I not only learned how to work in paint and organize several hectic sessions of volunteers- but I also learned how to use a mechical lift just like the workmen I see putting building together or revamping the front of an edifice. It made the next project- the bottom level of Lockerman-Bundy elementary a walk in the park.

FLOWERMART: TAKE TWO

And then the big day came. Walking up the steps into the sprawling Mt. Vernon Schlossberg-Cohen home, I thanked God that her property was literally steps away from our traditional booth space, slightly to the left of the Washington Monument. No one had shown up to help set-up. Days before we had loaded everything made from the ECO into my Jeep and Jay's Suburu. FYI: Large tubs full of ceramic RAPware? The best exercise for areas you didn't even know could hurt. Now, we would have to unload everthing from the house and onto the shelves- except there were four hands to get everthing done. I realized that patrons would be walking past our booth in mere hours- it was a beautiful day and at the end of it- the bottom line that it had to be done- and done correctly whether interns from the Community Art class showed up or not. The custom-made wooden shelving was put into place. The sign given to us by festival organizers was put out. Product was pulled out and arranged so each pot had a matching plate. A careful eye was given to make sure there were a variety of colors and themes present for visitors. RAP business cards were placed inside the pots and on plates. A table was set up with a cloth to handle credit cards and cash. And a space with bags and newspaper to wrap purchases was created. Then each plate and pot was price-checked to cut down on price haggling or bartering in the event that a tag was missing. Some prices were also changed, some went up, others went down. Surplus material was placed back into tubs that sat on the grass behind the table along with valuables belonging to the RAP workers, students from the Community Art class. While I hadn't taken the second part of Community Art yet, I wouldn't have chosen to be anywhere else on the first May weekend in May 2011. I had seen a large portion of the work being sold created in the ECO basement, had learned to work the kiln in the back of the building and after much trial and error, often resulting in ceramic explosions and laughter, I felt I had to be there to see the process to the end. The hours ticked by, and by the end of day two- there were few words to explain my feeling of being a piece of the work that pulled off another successful year of Flowermart.

FLOWERMART

YEAR ONE After an entire semester of making flowerpots, plates, and other ceramic nick-nacks, Flowermart finally arrived. The first weekend in May every year, the day started as it usually does- full of sun, moderate winds, and the excitement of gettting product on the shelves and people in our booth. Not until all of the pots and plates were on the shelves did it really hit me how much variety and spunk we had going on in our little booth. The sun made the glazes "pop" beyond belief as turquoise, brick reds, shiny blacks, and a variety of oranges, blues, and yellows lined the shelves. The individual personalities could be seen in each piece, even though names were never allowed- again, it wasn't ours to claim- but a work of ourselves to better the community. All proceeds from the two-day run went right back into the program to keep it alive the next year. All walks of life came through our booth. And though it was most rewarding to see a patron pay for a pot you made, knowing that it would benefit a greater cause was most important. Who could have known that in the years to come, I would be responsible for everything from firing the work to setting price tags for each piece of material- but this was just practice. Sales experience was a plus- but a smile and cheery demeanor went the furthest. By the end of the weekend we had raised more than $1500 dollars.

CLAY CONNECTIONS

Most lively of all the Experience Corps members was Gloria Ross, or "Ms.G" as she is affectionately known. Bringing more than just the experience of her 65+ years, it seemed like Ms. G had lived a thousand lives right in West Baltimore. She could tell you the name of every child- and often used it when reprimanding a pupil speeding down the hall or playing in the bathroom- every one treated just like her own grandson, Marty, who attended the school and lived with her. By simply watching Ms. G's interaction with the students and the members of her community- no matter how shady they seemed, it became clear to me just how important her presence was. It seemed like she balanced out all the chaos taking place in the school- whether it be from the rambunctious students, their parents, or the short-wired teachers- often seen yelling or sternly talking to students in the hallways and open-styled classrooms. My relationship would grow with Ms. G over the years. And though she took some getting used to, it didn't take long for me to warm up to her personality, ever-loving and genuine. One year after the community art class ended it would be me and Ms. G in the Edmondson Community Center (ECO) creating, glazing, firing work on summer weekends. As she worked, it seemed like the clay gave her life. She may have had to shuffle at a pace around the work spaces- but once seated in her chair (with alterations made to give her five foot frame a boost) she was unstoppable. The clay was a therapy for her- and soon, an escape for me. Sitting with her, nothing but the radio on, I felt like I was sitting in the presence of an omnicient griot- who in the space of three- to- four hours could tell you everything about Baltimore and everyone who had ever lived- and died- in a city with few charms 'round her way.I watched and learned how a cycle of poverty works. How this cycle affects everything from education to good health and your access to it. The next year, the Experience Corps program at Lockerman Bundy would be discontinued. A result of a lack of funding.

ART MEETS JUSTICE

It didn't take long before I fell in love with the class. Though it required alot of work with alot of parts, I soon began to look forward to the sessions. Especially when we began to have part of our classes at Lockerman Bundy Elementary School, where an group of the school's Experience Corps workers, along with mothers and grandmothers from the surrounding community, helped make Flowermart material. It was here that I began to develop a lasting relationship with mentor, Jay Wolf Schlossberg-Cohen, head of Rebuilding thru Art (RAP), and an internationally recognized studio artist. He had begun the program in 2003 with a mission to "ignite community engagement, empowerment, and action through art." And was it ever working. We conducted the community workshops in a building that was long suppose to be closed. Like many schools in Baltimore City and around the nation, Lockerman-Bundy was caught up in a game where education for inner-city youth were clearly not a top priority. When RAP arrived at the school, there was a library with no books. Many of the city's schools were completed with cement walls similar to the inside of a maximum prison facility, painted "prison white" as Jay called it, and Lockerman Bundy was no different. But then came my first real example of how community art, partnered with real social justice solutions can make a community do a 180 degree turn. With the help of RAP, a book drive was held- and students finally saw material on the completely empty shelves of their "library." This was followed by my first real proof of how much of an impact art can have on a human life. The organization executed a mural over every inch of hallway space on the second floor of the school. With the theme of Searching for New and Better Worlds, students completed workshops and came up with the images of student-astronauts flying through the universe, and Lockerman Bundy Bears on spaceshuttles. Color finally killed all the depressing white walls and the attitude that "this is just the way it is." By simply making the children feel like their space wasn't a correctional facility- but a place where magic truly happens, test scores went up. The color had literally brung everything back to life. Shortly after, the school's principle received a call that they would remain open.

"MINES"

The first excersice for the class was to jump right into preperation for an upcoming outdoor Baltimore arts festival- Flowermart. Hosted in tents lined up around the base of the Washington Monument and Museum in the heart of the city's Mt. Vernon community, everything from clothes and jewelry to flower seeds and ripe tomatoes could be found amongst those gathered to sell their goods. Our product? Dynamic flowerpots for all those Baltimoreans using the weekend festival to purchase greenery for their yards, window sills, and front stoops. It didn't take long for DePaolo to break out the clay. Instructing everyone to first put a wad of clay in the bottom of their pots for a base, she then proceeded to explain the easiest way for a flowerpot to be completed. With little background in clay, save for a few experiments in grade school and summer camps, I payed close attention to how she constructed an entire pot in minutes by simply palm-rolling the clay into coils. She then carefully layed them along the inside of the pot. One on top of the other. Taking her thumb, she then smeared and smoothed all the coils together. This seemed to ruin the work, but once it dried it popped right out of the mold with a coil design on the outside, and a smooth inside. Then it was our turn. With a pot in front of each student, we all proceeded to take on the task: making our first ceramic flowerpot. I looked around the table as we all got started. Working earnestly, designs were being intricately placed on the work when all of a sudden DePaolo stopped the class. "Now pass to the work to the person next you," she said, to a table full of artists. Everyone but the students who had already completed the first half of the class looked around. Was she serious? We already had our designs in mind- had already started to execute our work and now we had to hand it over to a stranger? This was MINES! What if their coils didn't match my coils? What if they did a different design then what I wanted? WHAT IF THEY MADE IT PINK? All of these questions were soon put to rest with a simple explanation. The point of the excercise was to learn that everyone had to have a hand in the design- whether it was functional or just for aesthetic pleasure. Everyone had their own ideas- which should be welcomed- because their own life experiences and lessons bring something to the table. Just because I started something and regarded it as "mines" didn't mean that someone else couldn't finish it- and make it better. Just because I didn't finish it didn't mean I couldn't claim it- it was still very much my creation- just part of a larger work. This was community art.