So for me the struggle is between having a path before me that calls me to be invisible and having one that calls me to be an enemy, and wanting to choose neither. Readers and friends know that I consider my deepest calling is to search for/invent a large gate that invites peoples everywhere to feel invited to enter and build inclusive communities.
As I understand the message: “Love your enemies” (at least tonight) the path of being an enemy is clearly preferable to being one of being invisible. Relationship, communication and mutual growth is available to enemies – the dark side of being colleagues. If my only real choice were between being invisible and being seen as a threat, I am powerfully drawn toward being an enemy!
It’s such a compelling set up. No wonder so many people who are labelled as disabled, and their parents and friends, become advocates! The fights are typically endless and largely unsuccessful. But in fighting, one feels one’s own reality and overcomes the annihilation of being unseen.
Perhaps the call to love one’s enemy is Christ’s way to break through the set up – not from the “advocates” position perhaps, but from the perspective of those who live within the world of doors and steps. How would love look between these worlds so physically separated within the same space?
Of course, love looks like the donation of time and space to be in Savannah and do my art. It looks like the welcome to service, and church suppers, and casseroles dropped off to keep us fed, and use of the fax machine and so many doors held open so often. These gifts are received with genuine gratitude.
But is there a level of love that can transcend the fundraising account, doors held, casseroles and shelter, and go to the souls of the people who come together for such a brief moment and from such different worlds? Is there a love that gives visibility and recognition, taking the fear out of “enemy”? How do the “strangers” become “angels” for each other?
I am hopeful that when this tumultuous year has settled and my art exhibit at the Royal Ontario Museum has become history I will have the opportunity to return to Savannah, to First Presbyterian Church, and that by then I will have new discoveries about Inclusion and transforming invisibility. I will make an effort to host a dialogue about enemies that have discovered love. Perhaps we will be our own best examples.
Showing posts with label Savannah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Savannah. Show all posts
Monday, March 14, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
March 10, 2011
I attended one sermon, given by Stephen Williams. It was to remind us that Jesus told us to love our enemies.
I remember that I was deeply moved, and now I don’t remember why. I remember that I had been listening from the middle of the central aisle because the notch that has been carved out of the last row of pews is a few inches too short for me to fit into.
I remember that I started to go up to Stephen after the service. Because I go out a different door I came up from behind him, and not being able to get his attention that way, I came around a different way. The second approach was more like swimming upstream because I was then moving back up the sidewalk as the departing crowd was coming down the path.
By this time several minutes had passed and Stephen was ready to move on. Not being able to catch more than a fleeting greeting from him, I shouted from a distance that I would write him a letter. This will be in that letter.
Mainly I remember how it seems that our different life circumstances virtually turn Stephen and I into each other’s enemies – not in an overtly hostile way – but in the sense that we physically and socially cannot share space except in the most truncated way. Good intention does not prevail against the long time present barriers between us.
In the model of Inclusion I have created (the BMX Model presented earlier in this blog) my sojourn in Imlay House was B – Basic Level inclusion. Mike and I were welcome, treated in a very warm way, freely given comforts and shelter, occasionally gifted with food, interacted with politely but briefly, and otherwise left alone, accountable for nothing more than returning the keys when we left. Other interactions were imagined before we arrived – there was speculation that we would meet with the youth group or speak at Wonderful Wednesday’s dinner, but when we actually arrived there was no space in people’s calendars.
Now, I don’t experience that I am an enemy or am viewed as an enemy of members of First Pres – quite the opposite. Just the same, if I WERE experienced as an enemy, and especially if I behaved like one, would the time at Imlay House have led to greater inclusion for Mike and I?
The scriptures admonishing Christians to love their enemies are all about “turn the other cheek” and “carry the load an extra mile”. They suggest that love is expressed as tolerating pain, standing present in the face of stress, generating more effort beyond an already overwhelming strain – all in the context of hostility and disrespect.
An enemy is not invisible. Mike and I were mainly invisible.
What would Christ have said about loving the invisible? Does this reality lay on me the responsibility to become an enemy when I am invisible, so that there will be an opportunity to be loved? Is that why Rosa Parks had to sit at the front of the bus?
(to be cont’d)
I remember that I was deeply moved, and now I don’t remember why. I remember that I had been listening from the middle of the central aisle because the notch that has been carved out of the last row of pews is a few inches too short for me to fit into.
I remember that I started to go up to Stephen after the service. Because I go out a different door I came up from behind him, and not being able to get his attention that way, I came around a different way. The second approach was more like swimming upstream because I was then moving back up the sidewalk as the departing crowd was coming down the path.
By this time several minutes had passed and Stephen was ready to move on. Not being able to catch more than a fleeting greeting from him, I shouted from a distance that I would write him a letter. This will be in that letter.
Mainly I remember how it seems that our different life circumstances virtually turn Stephen and I into each other’s enemies – not in an overtly hostile way – but in the sense that we physically and socially cannot share space except in the most truncated way. Good intention does not prevail against the long time present barriers between us.
In the model of Inclusion I have created (the BMX Model presented earlier in this blog) my sojourn in Imlay House was B – Basic Level inclusion. Mike and I were welcome, treated in a very warm way, freely given comforts and shelter, occasionally gifted with food, interacted with politely but briefly, and otherwise left alone, accountable for nothing more than returning the keys when we left. Other interactions were imagined before we arrived – there was speculation that we would meet with the youth group or speak at Wonderful Wednesday’s dinner, but when we actually arrived there was no space in people’s calendars.
Now, I don’t experience that I am an enemy or am viewed as an enemy of members of First Pres – quite the opposite. Just the same, if I WERE experienced as an enemy, and especially if I behaved like one, would the time at Imlay House have led to greater inclusion for Mike and I?
The scriptures admonishing Christians to love their enemies are all about “turn the other cheek” and “carry the load an extra mile”. They suggest that love is expressed as tolerating pain, standing present in the face of stress, generating more effort beyond an already overwhelming strain – all in the context of hostility and disrespect.
An enemy is not invisible. Mike and I were mainly invisible.
What would Christ have said about loving the invisible? Does this reality lay on me the responsibility to become an enemy when I am invisible, so that there will be an opportunity to be loved? Is that why Rosa Parks had to sit at the front of the bus?
(to be cont’d)
Thursday, March 3, 2011
March 3, 2011
I am restarting this blog while I’m feeling somewhat intimidated. I have never decided for how long I was going to keep up writing these posts. I started this blog out of a desire to express myself in an unfettered way while I recovered physically and while I got oriented to a new phase of life. Basically these accomplishments have been met.
Certainly there is value in keeping a daily journal. It is valuable in keeping me from unconsciously looping over the same thoughts and worries. Of course, it’s not that I don’t loop. Rather I can see the loops more quickly and have a go at saying something new more readily when I am writing everyday. As I engage in writing and thinking new (to me) things my world gains possibilities.
As for others, there are 17 followers of this blog, which is truly amazing to me! It certainly seems that a slowly growing circle of people are engaged with me in a dialogue about Inclusion. Of course this is not a typical dialogue but there is definitely an element of conversation. This element mostly shows up when people talk to me in real life situations about what they have recently read here. This is perhaps the most valuable aspect of this blog for me as I have many more moments when I am able to talk about things that I’m interested in with people where I don’t have to start at “square one”.
The intention of writing these postings daily has broken down a number of times. Some gaps happened when I ran out of things to say, but usually, at these times the daily discipline has been valuable because pushing through the gap gets me to a deeper level of understanding of myself and what I think. More of the gaps have happened when there was just more going on than I could physically and socially keep up with. In Savannah it was just more than I could fit into my energy level and time frame. It was important to focus on making sure that the painting happened. And it did happen!
On Friday night of last week I did a presentation at The Sentient Bean in Savannah – a community and social justice oriented coffee shop. I included in my talk the six pictures of the work that Mike and I did over eleven days at Imlay House.
From a certain perspective I left out one of the paintings. I use paper towels in one of my techniques to create a water colour impression. Mike saved the paper towel used to create one of the six. It is, in fact, a seventh creation all by itself, but I did not include it in the slides I showed that night.
Painting with Mike as my tracker, and also having him as one of only two personal assistants, and also living with him as a housemate for two weeks created the kind of emotional compression that my circle worries about vis a vis me and my safety and the choices I make in my life. It was very clearly, at least at some points, a strain for both of us. We got through it and we both did quite well, I think. We accomplished what we intended to do and the accomplishments were well done for the most part. At the same time we have conversations to have with each other and with others to explore that emotional compression and to see if there are better ways to achieve such accomplishments in the future.
So what was achieved? For me it was the six paintings, and above all THE painting. It turned out that “Dirty Window” is not THE painting. By February 20th it was clear to me that Mike and I could not finish “Dirty Window” in a way that would leave me satisfied with the work and him feeling acknowledged for his effort. It was at this point that I had a conversation with Mike that gave me a better understanding of how he could paint and keep up the work in a way that was both centred in his previous experience of doing art and reflecting the direction I wanted to go in. When I understood what he meant by “inking” I was able to formulate the picture in my own mind in a way that could work for both of us. Once again the art lead both of us in a different direction. The painting ‘Winter Mourning” is a true expression of Mike’s efforts, my response to the prison, and what the art itself wanted to be.
Here are some of our other accomplishments. I saw 14 pelicans over 2 days. We had a lot of fabulous meals. We spent a little less money than was available – YAY! We went for several long walks – sometimes together, sometimes separately. I gave two trainings for Chatham Savannah Citizen Advocacy, and both were well received. My talk at the Bean lead to some interesting reflections on what it will take to forward the action on Inclusion and Peace. Finally I did a bang up job of supporting an advocacy group on the last Monday of our trip, in Atlanta.
Now is a re-entry time. I love Savannah and I love Etobicoke. I am appreciated in a way in Savannah that does not happen anywhere else. The same is true in Etobicoke. The two worlds are different and both compelling. Part of my own inclusion journey is to continuously sort out having both.
Certainly there is value in keeping a daily journal. It is valuable in keeping me from unconsciously looping over the same thoughts and worries. Of course, it’s not that I don’t loop. Rather I can see the loops more quickly and have a go at saying something new more readily when I am writing everyday. As I engage in writing and thinking new (to me) things my world gains possibilities.
As for others, there are 17 followers of this blog, which is truly amazing to me! It certainly seems that a slowly growing circle of people are engaged with me in a dialogue about Inclusion. Of course this is not a typical dialogue but there is definitely an element of conversation. This element mostly shows up when people talk to me in real life situations about what they have recently read here. This is perhaps the most valuable aspect of this blog for me as I have many more moments when I am able to talk about things that I’m interested in with people where I don’t have to start at “square one”.
The intention of writing these postings daily has broken down a number of times. Some gaps happened when I ran out of things to say, but usually, at these times the daily discipline has been valuable because pushing through the gap gets me to a deeper level of understanding of myself and what I think. More of the gaps have happened when there was just more going on than I could physically and socially keep up with. In Savannah it was just more than I could fit into my energy level and time frame. It was important to focus on making sure that the painting happened. And it did happen!
On Friday night of last week I did a presentation at The Sentient Bean in Savannah – a community and social justice oriented coffee shop. I included in my talk the six pictures of the work that Mike and I did over eleven days at Imlay House.
From a certain perspective I left out one of the paintings. I use paper towels in one of my techniques to create a water colour impression. Mike saved the paper towel used to create one of the six. It is, in fact, a seventh creation all by itself, but I did not include it in the slides I showed that night.
Painting with Mike as my tracker, and also having him as one of only two personal assistants, and also living with him as a housemate for two weeks created the kind of emotional compression that my circle worries about vis a vis me and my safety and the choices I make in my life. It was very clearly, at least at some points, a strain for both of us. We got through it and we both did quite well, I think. We accomplished what we intended to do and the accomplishments were well done for the most part. At the same time we have conversations to have with each other and with others to explore that emotional compression and to see if there are better ways to achieve such accomplishments in the future.
So what was achieved? For me it was the six paintings, and above all THE painting. It turned out that “Dirty Window” is not THE painting. By February 20th it was clear to me that Mike and I could not finish “Dirty Window” in a way that would leave me satisfied with the work and him feeling acknowledged for his effort. It was at this point that I had a conversation with Mike that gave me a better understanding of how he could paint and keep up the work in a way that was both centred in his previous experience of doing art and reflecting the direction I wanted to go in. When I understood what he meant by “inking” I was able to formulate the picture in my own mind in a way that could work for both of us. Once again the art lead both of us in a different direction. The painting ‘Winter Mourning” is a true expression of Mike’s efforts, my response to the prison, and what the art itself wanted to be.
Here are some of our other accomplishments. I saw 14 pelicans over 2 days. We had a lot of fabulous meals. We spent a little less money than was available – YAY! We went for several long walks – sometimes together, sometimes separately. I gave two trainings for Chatham Savannah Citizen Advocacy, and both were well received. My talk at the Bean lead to some interesting reflections on what it will take to forward the action on Inclusion and Peace. Finally I did a bang up job of supporting an advocacy group on the last Monday of our trip, in Atlanta.
Now is a re-entry time. I love Savannah and I love Etobicoke. I am appreciated in a way in Savannah that does not happen anywhere else. The same is true in Etobicoke. The two worlds are different and both compelling. Part of my own inclusion journey is to continuously sort out having both.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
February 19, 2011
It is Saturday. I had a late lunch at “the Bean” after resting for the morning and spending a few hours on Tybee Island. No pelicans today, except for four I saw from the causeway, driving into the island from Thunderbolt. They were flying in formation much as fighter plane pilots do at air shows. This is how I knew they were pelicans and not sea gulls.
It has been an exceptionally warm day. Mike and I both wore shorts. Tybee was packed with beach folks. This likely is the reason for no pelicans. I walked around most of the southern end of the island but did not feel much like staying. I just don’t like people in crowds that much.
We – Lara, Mike and I – finally met up with Tom Kohler at the Bean. At first Tom was a little cool – arms crossed and that sort of thing. As the conversation unfolded it seems that he is defensive/worried that I will confront him about the Citizen Advocacy approach to imaging the “protégé” – the official term used in CA to denote the person who has been labelled disabled, and with whom CA programs “match” a typical citizen. Tom and I have disagreed in the past about the importance of providing “trainings” to both the citizen advocate and his/her protégé, and not just the advocate alone, as tomorrow and Tuesday are arranged. It wasn’t on my mind to confront him this time with that, but clearly he was getting up for an argument.
For me the biggest thing to sort out was what I am going to talk about tomorrow and on Tuesday. Tom wants something about presence and possibility. With Mike there we ended up talking a lot about the inclusive video game. In the end Tom said he wants me to talk about Marsha and me, then about how Mike and I met and got into the several projects we share – along the theme of listen, imagine, network.
I will sleep on this, and I am sure will catch the flavour, but as a different theme has been becoming more important to me, this doesn’t seem too natural.
It has been fabulous working with Lara. But as any given day progresses, without good structures for me to participate, and to eat and sleep without Lara’s or Mike’s full time presence, all of us get tired, defocused and edgy.
In particular I feel the need to create some distance between Mike and I and we made some progress with that today. Even though Mike is not working as a personal assistant today he has hung around me except when he slept in and when he lay on the beach for awhile. I believe that Tom caught the wave because he took Mike for a beer without me, and he also entered into a brainstorm about where, when and with whom Mike can go for a meal – again without me.
I am alone now and it is good. I was not prepared for how dirty Imlay House is. I was going to get Lara to wash the kitchen floor which is so filthy that my chair leaves track marks in the dirt. There is no mop. Lara offered to wash it with rags, but she is getting tired, the edginess has started, and it isn’t worth the time/cost to exhaust her that much. So we will continue to live with the grime.
My own edginess is abating as I get Mike’s alignment with how much money we have to spend on food, as well as getting the painting well underway. I think we are about 30% done. We will also need to set up some slides for Friday. I think it is going to get easier as we get the strangeness and the vacation –ness out of the way, hopefully pretty soon now. Then both of us will get more comfortable just getting the work done. There is a lot of work.
It has been an exceptionally warm day. Mike and I both wore shorts. Tybee was packed with beach folks. This likely is the reason for no pelicans. I walked around most of the southern end of the island but did not feel much like staying. I just don’t like people in crowds that much.
We – Lara, Mike and I – finally met up with Tom Kohler at the Bean. At first Tom was a little cool – arms crossed and that sort of thing. As the conversation unfolded it seems that he is defensive/worried that I will confront him about the Citizen Advocacy approach to imaging the “protégé” – the official term used in CA to denote the person who has been labelled disabled, and with whom CA programs “match” a typical citizen. Tom and I have disagreed in the past about the importance of providing “trainings” to both the citizen advocate and his/her protégé, and not just the advocate alone, as tomorrow and Tuesday are arranged. It wasn’t on my mind to confront him this time with that, but clearly he was getting up for an argument.
For me the biggest thing to sort out was what I am going to talk about tomorrow and on Tuesday. Tom wants something about presence and possibility. With Mike there we ended up talking a lot about the inclusive video game. In the end Tom said he wants me to talk about Marsha and me, then about how Mike and I met and got into the several projects we share – along the theme of listen, imagine, network.
I will sleep on this, and I am sure will catch the flavour, but as a different theme has been becoming more important to me, this doesn’t seem too natural.
It has been fabulous working with Lara. But as any given day progresses, without good structures for me to participate, and to eat and sleep without Lara’s or Mike’s full time presence, all of us get tired, defocused and edgy.
In particular I feel the need to create some distance between Mike and I and we made some progress with that today. Even though Mike is not working as a personal assistant today he has hung around me except when he slept in and when he lay on the beach for awhile. I believe that Tom caught the wave because he took Mike for a beer without me, and he also entered into a brainstorm about where, when and with whom Mike can go for a meal – again without me.
I am alone now and it is good. I was not prepared for how dirty Imlay House is. I was going to get Lara to wash the kitchen floor which is so filthy that my chair leaves track marks in the dirt. There is no mop. Lara offered to wash it with rags, but she is getting tired, the edginess has started, and it isn’t worth the time/cost to exhaust her that much. So we will continue to live with the grime.
My own edginess is abating as I get Mike’s alignment with how much money we have to spend on food, as well as getting the painting well underway. I think we are about 30% done. We will also need to set up some slides for Friday. I think it is going to get easier as we get the strangeness and the vacation –ness out of the way, hopefully pretty soon now. Then both of us will get more comfortable just getting the work done. There is a lot of work.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
February 17, 2011
I think this is my sixth, but certainly it is my fifth, visit to Savannah where I have stayed a significant length of time. The first visit was in the mid-eighties when I travelled through here with Jack and Marsha. We were on a tour talking about Inclusive Education. Jack drove the van and did some of the personal assistance. It’s funny how my circle questions these tours I do when it was my circle that got me started back then.
The second one was without Jack and Marsha. I was travelling with Marie Matthews, and I believe there was another assistant then, but I don’t remember who it was. I distinctly do remember that Tom Kohler was my main host back then in 1986 or ‘87. I also remember that it was around the time of St. Patrick’s Day because Marie and I participated fully in the festivities. (Savannah has the world’s largest St. Patrick’s Day parade outside of Ireland.) I kept the green wig for many, many years!
Other trips fade into the background excepting for the one that brought me to Tybee Island and Imlay House (where Mike and I are now). That was 2008. Gloria, Franziska and Jean came with me, and a personal assistant named Paula who turned out to be an absolute failure as a supporter. This is how I came to meet Lara. Gloria and Franziska remember this trip very differently from me, but no matter. It was the birth of the idea that I would go on the World Peace through Inclusion Tour. It’s not that I planned the tour then but somewhere in my understanding I realized how much I needed to come south to sort things out. I met the pelicans, I encountered the unconscious attachment to slavery and I realized that this was a place where I could be reflected enough to find myself – like seeing myself in a mirror.
I also remember that trip as being one where I was full of anxiety, as were Gloria, Jean and Lara. The World Peace through Inclusion Tour was also a time when my companions and I were frequently emotionally upset. Now that I have passed through the beginning of the Third Cycle and I am back in Savannah, I realize that anxiety goes along with coming here. I am sure there are many factors. My assistants get homesick. Moving from one space to another, including packing up and shifting all of my gear, is another great source of disruption. The concern that there will be enough money has legitimacy. The background “worry” that my attendant care money will get suspended is there. However, these things are typical of any trip that I have taken. Only Savannah brings out this somewhat higher level of anxiety!
Perhaps it is because of the mirror! Somehow I find myself intensely drawn into the images of slavery. They are everywhere. There is a print on my bedroom wall of a 19th century garden – a vision of elegance that includes a pale white woman in a white dress with a white parasol. It is a perfect counterpoint to the elegance of Savannah and is reminiscent of our modern idea of the old plantation. My point is that such gardens and the plantations they were part of can only and could only have been sustained by free or nearly free labour. In spite of this the labourers remain largely invisible.
It reminds me of one of my very first trips to Georgia. We were participating in a conference in a large and elegant hotel. It was my first encounter with peach daiquiris. A black woman was sweeping in the middle of the lobby. Dozens of people – white people – walked around her and never saw her.
During the World Peace through Inclusion Tour I was made aware that slavery is alive and well in the United States – I am sure elsewhere as well. The essence of slavery is the buying and selling of humans. It apparently has never been made illegal to purchase a human being. Since it has become socially unacceptable, or at least politically incorrect, to speak of slavery or to acknowledge its presence, the means of buying and selling have become hidden. For example, the police will round up idle men and when they appear in court to be convicted of loitering, they will be sentenced to work for a major employer of the local area who has been working with the police to develop his labour pool. As “criminals” the men do not need to be paid more than a pittance. Most of the money that changes hands, if any, goes between the employer and the police.
Of course, it is not hard to understand why so many men are idle. It is not hard to create a recession and end jobs in the kind of capitalist economy that pervades our society.
As I become more conversant with the means of creating slavery I have been constantly struck by the commonality of how we create disability. These mechanisms are less hidden in the southern states as well. Labelled individuals are bought and sold between nursing homes and institutions on a regular basis. Tom Kohler, John O’Brien and other Georgian activists have told many stories of people they know personally who started in the south and were shipped from state to state at the convenience of the “service system”.
When I came to Savannah last I was engaged in consulting with some citizen advocates and friends of a man in his twenties who was starved to death in a nursing home on Tybee Island. They suspect that this happened because when you reach the age of twenty-one in Georgia the state will no longer pay for your “care”. This man’s only known relative was unwilling or unable to pick up the tab, and consequently he was put in a back room and left to die.
The friends and advocates were asking themselves how it was that they could not have seen what was going on. It seems that even those who are very aware of this dynamic are still not always able to be conscious of its invisibility.
So here I am struggling to make something visible that scares me deeply. No wonder I am anxious as are those around me. No doubt some wish I would just go away.
The second one was without Jack and Marsha. I was travelling with Marie Matthews, and I believe there was another assistant then, but I don’t remember who it was. I distinctly do remember that Tom Kohler was my main host back then in 1986 or ‘87. I also remember that it was around the time of St. Patrick’s Day because Marie and I participated fully in the festivities. (Savannah has the world’s largest St. Patrick’s Day parade outside of Ireland.) I kept the green wig for many, many years!
Other trips fade into the background excepting for the one that brought me to Tybee Island and Imlay House (where Mike and I are now). That was 2008. Gloria, Franziska and Jean came with me, and a personal assistant named Paula who turned out to be an absolute failure as a supporter. This is how I came to meet Lara. Gloria and Franziska remember this trip very differently from me, but no matter. It was the birth of the idea that I would go on the World Peace through Inclusion Tour. It’s not that I planned the tour then but somewhere in my understanding I realized how much I needed to come south to sort things out. I met the pelicans, I encountered the unconscious attachment to slavery and I realized that this was a place where I could be reflected enough to find myself – like seeing myself in a mirror.
I also remember that trip as being one where I was full of anxiety, as were Gloria, Jean and Lara. The World Peace through Inclusion Tour was also a time when my companions and I were frequently emotionally upset. Now that I have passed through the beginning of the Third Cycle and I am back in Savannah, I realize that anxiety goes along with coming here. I am sure there are many factors. My assistants get homesick. Moving from one space to another, including packing up and shifting all of my gear, is another great source of disruption. The concern that there will be enough money has legitimacy. The background “worry” that my attendant care money will get suspended is there. However, these things are typical of any trip that I have taken. Only Savannah brings out this somewhat higher level of anxiety!
Perhaps it is because of the mirror! Somehow I find myself intensely drawn into the images of slavery. They are everywhere. There is a print on my bedroom wall of a 19th century garden – a vision of elegance that includes a pale white woman in a white dress with a white parasol. It is a perfect counterpoint to the elegance of Savannah and is reminiscent of our modern idea of the old plantation. My point is that such gardens and the plantations they were part of can only and could only have been sustained by free or nearly free labour. In spite of this the labourers remain largely invisible.
It reminds me of one of my very first trips to Georgia. We were participating in a conference in a large and elegant hotel. It was my first encounter with peach daiquiris. A black woman was sweeping in the middle of the lobby. Dozens of people – white people – walked around her and never saw her.
During the World Peace through Inclusion Tour I was made aware that slavery is alive and well in the United States – I am sure elsewhere as well. The essence of slavery is the buying and selling of humans. It apparently has never been made illegal to purchase a human being. Since it has become socially unacceptable, or at least politically incorrect, to speak of slavery or to acknowledge its presence, the means of buying and selling have become hidden. For example, the police will round up idle men and when they appear in court to be convicted of loitering, they will be sentenced to work for a major employer of the local area who has been working with the police to develop his labour pool. As “criminals” the men do not need to be paid more than a pittance. Most of the money that changes hands, if any, goes between the employer and the police.
Of course, it is not hard to understand why so many men are idle. It is not hard to create a recession and end jobs in the kind of capitalist economy that pervades our society.
As I become more conversant with the means of creating slavery I have been constantly struck by the commonality of how we create disability. These mechanisms are less hidden in the southern states as well. Labelled individuals are bought and sold between nursing homes and institutions on a regular basis. Tom Kohler, John O’Brien and other Georgian activists have told many stories of people they know personally who started in the south and were shipped from state to state at the convenience of the “service system”.
When I came to Savannah last I was engaged in consulting with some citizen advocates and friends of a man in his twenties who was starved to death in a nursing home on Tybee Island. They suspect that this happened because when you reach the age of twenty-one in Georgia the state will no longer pay for your “care”. This man’s only known relative was unwilling or unable to pick up the tab, and consequently he was put in a back room and left to die.
The friends and advocates were asking themselves how it was that they could not have seen what was going on. It seems that even those who are very aware of this dynamic are still not always able to be conscious of its invisibility.
So here I am struggling to make something visible that scares me deeply. No wonder I am anxious as are those around me. No doubt some wish I would just go away.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
February 16, 2011
I feel like I am cheating the readers of this blog because I have not been giving lots of details of life for several weeks now. Mike and I are at Imlay House in Savannah after three days travelling down and stopping to visit along the way with Peter Block. Chris Lee drove with us and has gone back to Ontario and Florida. He will join us again on the 26th. Lara Howell is now supporting me along with Mike. Everything is working out.
There are so many details. At the moment I am tired and adjusting to the sulphur in the air and water of this marshy place. Today Mike and I got to Tybee. In the absence of detail I thought I would share a few of the pictures of what we have experienced. And, yes, I have seen pelicans - about ten of them. One demonstrated to Mike just how pelicans fish. It is a sight and a sound to behold. I hope you get to see it yourself someday.
Here are the pics:
There are so many details. At the moment I am tired and adjusting to the sulphur in the air and water of this marshy place. Today Mike and I got to Tybee. In the absence of detail I thought I would share a few of the pictures of what we have experienced. And, yes, I have seen pelicans - about ten of them. One demonstrated to Mike just how pelicans fish. It is a sight and a sound to behold. I hope you get to see it yourself someday.
Here are the pics:
Monday, February 14, 2011
February 14, 2011
Mike, Chris and I are in a grubby motel just outside of Knoxville. I have just finished being on the teleconference course called Making a Lasting Impact on Discourses. We’ve been eating southern BBQ and enjoying it immensely. The needle under the bed, the blood on the box frame and the punch hole in the door are perhaps not so intriguing!
Today we had lunch with Peter Block. I realize that it has been a good six years since I met him. I consider him a good friend and patron. And today I also realized that it was time for me to buy lunch! I also gave him a pack of Laser Eagle cards as a Valentine’s Day gift.
Peter Block is very much part of my “bigger conversations” friends. We quickly were talking about empires and the economy and making the invisible visible and seeing the abundance that is right in front of us, and connecting all of that to the Bible and world news and… etc. I’m pretty sure that Chris and Mike were pretty deep into the conversation as well. We recorded it on Mike’s iPhone and I intend to put excerpts of it into this blog now and then.
It was a gruelling task yesterday to obtain a cell phone that had a headset (Bluetooth!) that Mike and I can use throughout the trip as it has a Savannah number. Neither one of us can afford the horrendous cost of roaming charges on our regular cell numbers. I’m glad that we persevered through the annoyance because the wifi in the motel failed me and I wasn’t able to get onto my teleconference through Skype. I’m so glad that I had the phone as a back up! By the way our number is 912-713-5739.
The topic of tonight’s teleconference was “resignation”, which in Landmark terms means the hopeless feeling. The upshot was to have us look at that resignation comes from feeling like you are one small person against a big world. In this model of oneself it is impossible to believe that you (I) have the power to impact a worldwide culture – in my case the cultures of exclusion and war.
We were encouraged to play with other models of ourselves. I came up with that I am a mouthpiece of a conversation that is pressing to be heard – the conversation of Inclusion and peace. Please, if I forget as I’m sure I will, and start feeling small and alone, remind me that this is a way of looking at myself that I inherited when I was little.
We are less than a day away from Savannah. If it wasn’t for my teleconference and for needing to drop Chris in Atlanta tomorrow, we probably would have pressed on and made Savannah by tonight. Actually I prefer it this way as it’s easy to get lost in Savannah at night and it will be a great pleasure to have Mike see it’s elegance for the first time in broad daylight.
Peter Block made a clear point that I should thank the people of Savannah for making me aware of how slavery and disability are two parts of the same economic conversation – turning people into commodities instead of persons with rights and gifts. I appreciate that he put it this way – in terms of gratitude and appreciation. This will help me greatly when I am speaking to people. I’m expecting to give four presentations while I am here.
Beyond that, the pelicans and the painting, not to mention the church suppers and other opportunities for good southern food are very much on my mind. And then there are the many, many people that I’m eager to reconnect with. The first of those will be Lara, the beautiful young woman who is going to be Mike’s sidekick for this leg of the trip.
I am so happy to be on an adventure again. Yes, I am tired and my back hurts sometimes. Just the same, it is like I am being recharged. Now and then “the mouthpiece” must find new words and new perspectives. Being on the road has always given me opportunities for just that kind of reframing and waking up. I love where I live and at the same time I so very much need to be moving about in the world. This is who I am!
Today we had lunch with Peter Block. I realize that it has been a good six years since I met him. I consider him a good friend and patron. And today I also realized that it was time for me to buy lunch! I also gave him a pack of Laser Eagle cards as a Valentine’s Day gift.
Peter Block is very much part of my “bigger conversations” friends. We quickly were talking about empires and the economy and making the invisible visible and seeing the abundance that is right in front of us, and connecting all of that to the Bible and world news and… etc. I’m pretty sure that Chris and Mike were pretty deep into the conversation as well. We recorded it on Mike’s iPhone and I intend to put excerpts of it into this blog now and then.
It was a gruelling task yesterday to obtain a cell phone that had a headset (Bluetooth!) that Mike and I can use throughout the trip as it has a Savannah number. Neither one of us can afford the horrendous cost of roaming charges on our regular cell numbers. I’m glad that we persevered through the annoyance because the wifi in the motel failed me and I wasn’t able to get onto my teleconference through Skype. I’m so glad that I had the phone as a back up! By the way our number is 912-713-5739.
The topic of tonight’s teleconference was “resignation”, which in Landmark terms means the hopeless feeling. The upshot was to have us look at that resignation comes from feeling like you are one small person against a big world. In this model of oneself it is impossible to believe that you (I) have the power to impact a worldwide culture – in my case the cultures of exclusion and war.
We were encouraged to play with other models of ourselves. I came up with that I am a mouthpiece of a conversation that is pressing to be heard – the conversation of Inclusion and peace. Please, if I forget as I’m sure I will, and start feeling small and alone, remind me that this is a way of looking at myself that I inherited when I was little.
We are less than a day away from Savannah. If it wasn’t for my teleconference and for needing to drop Chris in Atlanta tomorrow, we probably would have pressed on and made Savannah by tonight. Actually I prefer it this way as it’s easy to get lost in Savannah at night and it will be a great pleasure to have Mike see it’s elegance for the first time in broad daylight.
Peter Block made a clear point that I should thank the people of Savannah for making me aware of how slavery and disability are two parts of the same economic conversation – turning people into commodities instead of persons with rights and gifts. I appreciate that he put it this way – in terms of gratitude and appreciation. This will help me greatly when I am speaking to people. I’m expecting to give four presentations while I am here.
Beyond that, the pelicans and the painting, not to mention the church suppers and other opportunities for good southern food are very much on my mind. And then there are the many, many people that I’m eager to reconnect with. The first of those will be Lara, the beautiful young woman who is going to be Mike’s sidekick for this leg of the trip.
I am so happy to be on an adventure again. Yes, I am tired and my back hurts sometimes. Just the same, it is like I am being recharged. Now and then “the mouthpiece” must find new words and new perspectives. Being on the road has always given me opportunities for just that kind of reframing and waking up. I love where I live and at the same time I so very much need to be moving about in the world. This is who I am!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
February 12, 2011
It’s the day before I leave for Savannah, with Mike Skubic and Christopher Lee. Things are a bit chaotic around here!
Once again I missed blogging yesterday. I was at the “Work of Hearts” Gala, a fundraiser for Laser Eagles. I think for now it is just better to say that I will blog every four days at least, or twice a week. Until I get my road life back under my belt I don’t want to give the impression that I’m simply choosing not to blog. Rather I am re-establishing the “rhythm” that gets it all done. – (preferably making it all look easy at the same time!)
The Gala was fabulous and a real testament both to what people can accomplish even when they don’t necessarily see “eye-to-eye”, and to Kimberly Fu’s capacity as an event organizer. It was elegance at its best and done on shoe string. Regardless of how much money was made (I have no idea!) the essential value of Laser Eagles was communicated far and wide.
I had a real sense of people working together, as well. Mike Skubic and Helen Tweddle jumped in – with my Dad’s car – to make Greg’s transportation work out. Other tasks were getting handled with little fanfare. It made community seem real.
For me this was all on top of a week of last minute rushes, dramas, inadequate schedulings and opportunities – lost and found. It seemed that I still had only two double bookings to resolve, and they both worked out rather miraculously.
A sense of a fundamental shift is there. The new ODSP caseworker called me to get help in working out my complex financial situation with the clear intention of making it work for me. Olivia passed MY proposal around to all members of the Inclusion Circle. The media CAME to the Laser Eagles event. It feels like I’m actually being taken seriously!
I have wanted to and thought about blogging all the way through, but not had the energy and focus when the time came. I really SHOULD get one of those voice recorders that can be downloaded and converted to a text file.
Anyway the adventure has truly begun. The car is washed, gassed and loaded. Nearly everything is done, except the sleep.
Soon I will be painting, and revealing – mostly to myself – what message the rising Mimico Correctional Centre is trying to evoke.
I guess what really shifted is that I am willing, or nearly so, to be a leader with a distinct point of view, a defined vision of what the next world needs to be like, the beginnings of a strategy, and the willingness to have others improve it.
It is late and my eyes are drooping, my legs aching and my head fuzzy. Let the adventure begin.
Once again I missed blogging yesterday. I was at the “Work of Hearts” Gala, a fundraiser for Laser Eagles. I think for now it is just better to say that I will blog every four days at least, or twice a week. Until I get my road life back under my belt I don’t want to give the impression that I’m simply choosing not to blog. Rather I am re-establishing the “rhythm” that gets it all done. – (preferably making it all look easy at the same time!)
The Gala was fabulous and a real testament both to what people can accomplish even when they don’t necessarily see “eye-to-eye”, and to Kimberly Fu’s capacity as an event organizer. It was elegance at its best and done on shoe string. Regardless of how much money was made (I have no idea!) the essential value of Laser Eagles was communicated far and wide.
I had a real sense of people working together, as well. Mike Skubic and Helen Tweddle jumped in – with my Dad’s car – to make Greg’s transportation work out. Other tasks were getting handled with little fanfare. It made community seem real.
For me this was all on top of a week of last minute rushes, dramas, inadequate schedulings and opportunities – lost and found. It seemed that I still had only two double bookings to resolve, and they both worked out rather miraculously.
A sense of a fundamental shift is there. The new ODSP caseworker called me to get help in working out my complex financial situation with the clear intention of making it work for me. Olivia passed MY proposal around to all members of the Inclusion Circle. The media CAME to the Laser Eagles event. It feels like I’m actually being taken seriously!
I have wanted to and thought about blogging all the way through, but not had the energy and focus when the time came. I really SHOULD get one of those voice recorders that can be downloaded and converted to a text file.
Anyway the adventure has truly begun. The car is washed, gassed and loaded. Nearly everything is done, except the sleep.
Soon I will be painting, and revealing – mostly to myself – what message the rising Mimico Correctional Centre is trying to evoke.
I guess what really shifted is that I am willing, or nearly so, to be a leader with a distinct point of view, a defined vision of what the next world needs to be like, the beginnings of a strategy, and the willingness to have others improve it.
It is late and my eyes are drooping, my legs aching and my head fuzzy. Let the adventure begin.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
February 8, 2011
Well I can see that I am going to have to shift something very soon. I’m exhausted, my email inbox is full of over 160 messages, many of them unread, there are still many things to do before we leave and the near future promises to open up with even more possibilities and projects. After Paul Aiello has publicly announced that the ROM has committed to putting up my art exhibit there has been a flood of congratulations and expectation.
I have the same expectations myself, really. It is certainly my intention that this exhibit will form the foundation of a new capacity to speak Inclusion into the world but already I can see that I am not up to fulfilling this potential. I need ways to strip away activities and commitments – not as giving them up but as in having them fulfilled without my personal attention. Otherwise I will not have enough privacy and rest.
Gloria’s right – much must be given away. From my perspective this is no small task. There are so many intricacies that I have brought to the table on my own behalf in the last twenty or so years. For example, today I spent a good hour resolving for the third time the discomfort of my new accountant over the fact that I will indeed overspend my personal assistant budget in the near future. I’ve reassured her that what I need her to do is to tell me the state that the budget is in but not to panic. I know that I have avenues – some already activated – to bring new money into the picture. But these potentials are very difficult for brand new people to see and so I spend as much energy supporting them as if I were doing it myself, or at least that’s how it feels.
Nevertheless the time has come. The potential of the ROM exhibit is too great to try to keep it inside of my own scope. I no longer represent myself.
This is a major reason why I have just seen The King’s Speech for the third time, besides that Bill Worrell had not yet seen it before tonight. There comes a time when a genuine leader is no longer representing them self. This time has certainly landed on me at this point. And so I must distinguish between speaking and doing what is required of me as a leader and speaking and doing what is required of me as a person. It would seem that truly great people somehow manage to do both at the same time, and also take it to such a level that their influence becomes cross-cultural. It is not that I particularly want to do this. It is just clear that it is within my grasp and so history compels me.
It will be simpler next week. By this time next Tuesday we will be getting ready for a painting day in Savannah. At least for a short time I will be left in peace.
It feels to me like I am complaining right now. I’m not really. This is exactly what I want and have wanted since I was very young. The gap that I am experiencing comes not from being pushed into a life that I don’t want but simply that this is required of me to shift how I do things so that many many more people can be involved. Currently I do not feel like I have the time and resources to expand in two different directions. This is something to be invented.
I am not able to stay awake now. Goodnight.
I have the same expectations myself, really. It is certainly my intention that this exhibit will form the foundation of a new capacity to speak Inclusion into the world but already I can see that I am not up to fulfilling this potential. I need ways to strip away activities and commitments – not as giving them up but as in having them fulfilled without my personal attention. Otherwise I will not have enough privacy and rest.
Gloria’s right – much must be given away. From my perspective this is no small task. There are so many intricacies that I have brought to the table on my own behalf in the last twenty or so years. For example, today I spent a good hour resolving for the third time the discomfort of my new accountant over the fact that I will indeed overspend my personal assistant budget in the near future. I’ve reassured her that what I need her to do is to tell me the state that the budget is in but not to panic. I know that I have avenues – some already activated – to bring new money into the picture. But these potentials are very difficult for brand new people to see and so I spend as much energy supporting them as if I were doing it myself, or at least that’s how it feels.
Nevertheless the time has come. The potential of the ROM exhibit is too great to try to keep it inside of my own scope. I no longer represent myself.
This is a major reason why I have just seen The King’s Speech for the third time, besides that Bill Worrell had not yet seen it before tonight. There comes a time when a genuine leader is no longer representing them self. This time has certainly landed on me at this point. And so I must distinguish between speaking and doing what is required of me as a leader and speaking and doing what is required of me as a person. It would seem that truly great people somehow manage to do both at the same time, and also take it to such a level that their influence becomes cross-cultural. It is not that I particularly want to do this. It is just clear that it is within my grasp and so history compels me.
It will be simpler next week. By this time next Tuesday we will be getting ready for a painting day in Savannah. At least for a short time I will be left in peace.
It feels to me like I am complaining right now. I’m not really. This is exactly what I want and have wanted since I was very young. The gap that I am experiencing comes not from being pushed into a life that I don’t want but simply that this is required of me to shift how I do things so that many many more people can be involved. Currently I do not feel like I have the time and resources to expand in two different directions. This is something to be invented.
I am not able to stay awake now. Goodnight.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
February 6, 2011
I just spoke to Lara, and that deep, edgy Southern lilt breaks/melts my heart. I am just one week, a few phone calls and e-mails, and a very long drive away from Savannah. Deep into the elegant veneer and the ball breaking poverty and racism. Within salty scent of cold Atlantic waters and magical pelicans.
It is like I have already left. There are over a hundred e-mails in my Inbox. I have fallen off the map of the Wisdom team. I have begun to consider how to pack the car and what road food to bring.
My circle met today. We had yet another fabulous pot luck – this time with a variety of chicken and pastries. Gloria told story after story of what she learned in and from members of the First African Baptist Church.
It’s funny but we clearly had very different trips to Savannah that winter of early 2008, or was it ‘07. for me it was all about advocacy, beginning to collect peace stories and meeting Lara. For Franziska, about having a GREAT time, for Gloria about the stories of blacks building their place in the world, society and community through turning Christianity back into a revolutionary journey.
The telling of our stories pulls together a mosaic. The story is bigger than the five women who lived it.
This morning I was reflecting on my commitment as a journey to tell a different story. I began to think of my MA as Magical Artist. I was seeing the power – the Syncopated Transition – in telling a story that interrupts the oppressive mirage. Even more than that I was seeing the power – the Syncopated Transition – in simply having perfect faith that one’s story IS the story, even though every other person is creating and fulfilling another drama.
I have heard the story of one black, deeply disturbed yet innocently diverse and fundamentally spiritual man – a man with a stack of disability labels – who single handedly pacified a police department which is known to be so aggressive as to blame a Chinese woman for being run down in the street.
So now I will paint a prison while retreating into the bosom of blatant racism. I am beginning to see Third Cycle as being about building stories that can, just by being told, interrupt and transform the space so that people can see the different choices that are available to them.
It was not long after the Savannah trip that Gloria and Franziska came on, and the shorter two that followed closely afterward, that I met Gabor Podor, and we created the model – Syncopated Transition. I am now beginning to see the unfolding of its power.
Syncopated Transition
In jazz, musicians use syncopation to emphasize a weaker or ignored beat in such a way that they create a new melody that challenges or counters the original melody. The original melody is not destroyed. The overall piece is transformed.
Syncopated Transition is a method of creating Inclusion by valuing and building on a characteristic or gift which has been rejected or suppressed by a community. As in jazz this creation is structured in such a way that a new opportunity in community is created.
Peace is a natural outcome of Syncopated Transition. Peace results from people experiencing that more opportunities are available to them while at the same time the fundamental structures of their lives and communities are preserved.
I see that my aim is to be a syncopated transition.
It is like I have already left. There are over a hundred e-mails in my Inbox. I have fallen off the map of the Wisdom team. I have begun to consider how to pack the car and what road food to bring.
My circle met today. We had yet another fabulous pot luck – this time with a variety of chicken and pastries. Gloria told story after story of what she learned in and from members of the First African Baptist Church.
It’s funny but we clearly had very different trips to Savannah that winter of early 2008, or was it ‘07. for me it was all about advocacy, beginning to collect peace stories and meeting Lara. For Franziska, about having a GREAT time, for Gloria about the stories of blacks building their place in the world, society and community through turning Christianity back into a revolutionary journey.
The telling of our stories pulls together a mosaic. The story is bigger than the five women who lived it.
This morning I was reflecting on my commitment as a journey to tell a different story. I began to think of my MA as Magical Artist. I was seeing the power – the Syncopated Transition – in telling a story that interrupts the oppressive mirage. Even more than that I was seeing the power – the Syncopated Transition – in simply having perfect faith that one’s story IS the story, even though every other person is creating and fulfilling another drama.
I have heard the story of one black, deeply disturbed yet innocently diverse and fundamentally spiritual man – a man with a stack of disability labels – who single handedly pacified a police department which is known to be so aggressive as to blame a Chinese woman for being run down in the street.
So now I will paint a prison while retreating into the bosom of blatant racism. I am beginning to see Third Cycle as being about building stories that can, just by being told, interrupt and transform the space so that people can see the different choices that are available to them.
It was not long after the Savannah trip that Gloria and Franziska came on, and the shorter two that followed closely afterward, that I met Gabor Podor, and we created the model – Syncopated Transition. I am now beginning to see the unfolding of its power.
Syncopated Transition
In jazz, musicians use syncopation to emphasize a weaker or ignored beat in such a way that they create a new melody that challenges or counters the original melody. The original melody is not destroyed. The overall piece is transformed.
Syncopated Transition is a method of creating Inclusion by valuing and building on a characteristic or gift which has been rejected or suppressed by a community. As in jazz this creation is structured in such a way that a new opportunity in community is created.
Peace is a natural outcome of Syncopated Transition. Peace results from people experiencing that more opportunities are available to them while at the same time the fundamental structures of their lives and communities are preserved.
I see that my aim is to be a syncopated transition.
Friday, February 4, 2011
February 4, 2011
I thought some might want to get a sense of the park and shore of Lake Ontario that is just 3 blocks from my apartment.
This video was taken two days ago by Nick Lin, a friend and personal assistant.
Lake Ontario is one of the five Great Lakes. They are fresh water inland seas, and some say they do have tides, though the rise and fall are nearly imperceptable. Well, not really, at least not to me!
I was born and have lived most of my life within five miles of this sweet sea. I have been able to see the waters from three of the homes I have lived in. I have written into my will that my ashes are to be sunk beneath its waters.
As I prepare to journey again to Savannah it is the sea and the pelicans that I imagine as my destination. I am deeply called, not to be in or on, but to abide by great waters and to watch the sea birds.
I learned several months ago that there are fresh water pelicans, and that occasionally they will rest while migrating at Point Pelee in Lake Eire, the next Great Lake to the east. It would be wonderful if they would sojourn on the rocks that jut into the waters just 3 blocks away.
Pelicans and hummingbirds, and butterflies among other species, and clowns, and the circus stand in the human psyche for the Epiphany - that eternally timeless moment of NOW when we in our physical beingness experience the we of our spiritual beingness and know that we are all connected and one forever. Pelicans are clownlike. When they fish they dive bomb in a spiral, to disappear beneath the water to reemerge facing opposite way around to the direction they went in. In the human psyche spirals stand for the eternal rejuvenation of life.
In Savannah I will paint the abomination of the Mimico prison. With the pelicans leading me and refreshed by the salty tide, at rest in the seat of deep slavery, I will find my true relationship with this deeply rooted structure of exclusion.
Today the ROM offered me a contract to exhibit my paintings and tell my story. My feet are set and the journey begins!
This video was taken two days ago by Nick Lin, a friend and personal assistant.
Lake Ontario is one of the five Great Lakes. They are fresh water inland seas, and some say they do have tides, though the rise and fall are nearly imperceptable. Well, not really, at least not to me!
I was born and have lived most of my life within five miles of this sweet sea. I have been able to see the waters from three of the homes I have lived in. I have written into my will that my ashes are to be sunk beneath its waters.
As I prepare to journey again to Savannah it is the sea and the pelicans that I imagine as my destination. I am deeply called, not to be in or on, but to abide by great waters and to watch the sea birds.
I learned several months ago that there are fresh water pelicans, and that occasionally they will rest while migrating at Point Pelee in Lake Eire, the next Great Lake to the east. It would be wonderful if they would sojourn on the rocks that jut into the waters just 3 blocks away.
Pelicans and hummingbirds, and butterflies among other species, and clowns, and the circus stand in the human psyche for the Epiphany - that eternally timeless moment of NOW when we in our physical beingness experience the we of our spiritual beingness and know that we are all connected and one forever. Pelicans are clownlike. When they fish they dive bomb in a spiral, to disappear beneath the water to reemerge facing opposite way around to the direction they went in. In the human psyche spirals stand for the eternal rejuvenation of life.
In Savannah I will paint the abomination of the Mimico prison. With the pelicans leading me and refreshed by the salty tide, at rest in the seat of deep slavery, I will find my true relationship with this deeply rooted structure of exclusion.
Today the ROM offered me a contract to exhibit my paintings and tell my story. My feet are set and the journey begins!
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