“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
Maya Angelou
Artist Articles
Sometimes We Just Need to Tell Someone Who Will Understand
Last night I spoke at an appreciation event for the board members and the donors of Young Audiences at a swanky hotel. This was after spending a week presenting to the children at a community center in the first ward where an 8 year old is telling me about his...
I Don’t Want to Be Here
A boy in the detention center sat down folded his arms leaned back in his chair and made sure I knew he didn’t want to be there and wasn’t going to participate. When I told them I was a burn survivor I saw that shift. His arms uncrossed and he leaned forward to start...
We Were Friends
After presenting to a group on a staff bonding retreat, a woman approached me and told me she lived my life. She was strong and looked me right in my eyes. “I was born with an incurable skin condition. People would say the same things to me. Freak. Leper. Don’t touch...
Michael
Michael was 8 years old. Feisty, busy and very talkative. He wouldn’t settle down. The staff in the room seemed to have had enough of him. His younger sister interrupted and corrected him… a lot. They both interrupted me, a lot. They were students in an after-school...
I Lost Him
One of my 6 week placements was with children who are on probation. The staff prepared me to expect little, if not zero, participation. “We’ve had poets in here, dancers, yoga instructors, musician, writers and they won’t participate.” Well into the workshop the kids...
I Wasn’t Supposed to Be Here
A female juvenile prison guard brought in a boy in a little late and asked to sit in on my presentation to a group of 8 incarcerated boys. She was at least 6’5”, very thin and beautiful. She looked around and asked if it was ok if she sat in. After my presentation of...
I Kill Ladybugs
There’s a boy I had in a group for 2 weeks. He is a smartass and very small in an unusual way. He walks with a limp. The fingers on both of his hands are very long, strained, rigid and contorted. He uses them when he talks to their limited capacity. His mouth and...
His Name was Salvatore
It was the 4th time I presented My Mark Matters in less than 24 hours. While 160 children were quietly curled up in their little bundles across the gymnasium floor with their blocks working on their 10 minute drawings a faculty member approached me and told me I...
Dignity
In October of 2016 while drawing a mural in Upton Hall, a young college student Nick Butler approached me with a camera in his hands to document my progress for the school’s records. I was invited to create this mural and encouraged to engage with the students. It is...
It’s Raining Outside
It took seconds for the giant quiet gallery to go from just me and the work-study student to a room filled with 50+ high school students who never planned on being there. It was cold and raining during their tour of the campus and a fire alarm went off while they were...