A story about Rochester weather, kind of

First and foremost – there’s still time to register for my class on Monday at the Rochester Brainery!  Come get first-hand story gathering experience and learn the tips and tricks to collecting stories.

Second – a brief fable to take us into the weekend that I adapted for a ROCspot meeting.

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Let me tell you a story about the Wind and the Sun. One typical May day in Rochester, NY, the Wind started at fight with the Sun. “I am stronger than you!” shouted the wind. “No way. I am stronger than YOU,” declared the Sun.

They fought back and forth for days. A war of words and claims. Finally, they decided to resolve the issue with a contest. Each would work their ways on a man walking down Main St. Whoever got him to take off his coat faster would be declared the stronger of the two.

He blew and blew and blew. Great gusts hit the man just as he came to the bridge. The Wind blew so hard, the man almost went flying in to the river.

He shivered in the gale and huddled deeper into his coat.

The Wind finally tired and gave up.

Now, it was the Sun’s turn. He shone and shone, smiling happily down on the man – who soon unbuttoned his coat. Then unzipped the liner. He grew warmer and warmer in the bright sunshine. Finally, he took off his coat altogether and draped it over his arm – muttering about the changeable Rochester weather.

The Sun managed to win through gentleness what the Wind could not conquer with brute force.

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Enjoy the weekend!

Storychick and ROCSoup at TEDxRochester

Saturday was a huge day!  Not only for myself, Tony K, and the organizing team, but for all of the speakers – including me – who I’ve come to know through gathering and sharing their backstories over the past 6 months!  (I still need to do one more.  My bad.)

You can catch up on the Superhero Backstories here. Each speaker’s name links to their backstory post – except for Matt. Working on that. The backstories are largely transcripts of what each speaker told me, but some kneading and shaping of the dough of the story does take place to get it just right – not revealing too much, teasing enough to draw the curious.

My talk was first. After Larry, the emcee, opened with the story of ROC Soup, I picked up the metaphor and stirred the pot.

My objective: get people excited about story and what it can do to strengthen communities. To lift the blinders that sometimes fall into place and bucket “storytelling” with children’s storytimes only. I had an exhibitor table where I had additional information about some other examples in my talk, recipes for different types of stories to spur ideas, and bookmarks with opening lines, closing lines, and recommended reading.

The TEDx stage is a story of its own. While some may consider it a local event and akin to speaking in front of a large crowd elsewhere, that really loses the point of TEDx and the TED mythos. Think of all of the amazing people and ideas that have come from TED and their associated events. The video of my talk goes onto YouTube from TEDxRochester and is curated by TED folk so that it could be seen by so many more! The audience is smart and motivated and want substance to give them ideas on making our city and world better. No pressure – tons of pressure.

I had fears that the talk I had memorized at the top of the week and had run in my head probably 5 times a day was not going to be there when I stepped into the spotlight.

But I stepped out and it flowed. I had fun telling my stories and talking about my passion and where I think it can take us. The ROC Soup metaphor was strong and pulled the pieces of the talk together nicely with the call to action. Here’s the opening bit, as a teaser – of course I’ll post the full talk here when the video is ready.

ROC soup, the pooling together of the resources on hand to create a scrumptious new whole. There’s so much awesome in the concept.

The Vietnamese have a saying “A grief shared by many is half a grief. A joy shared is twice a joy.” Imagine sharing our joys and woes, our stories, in a great community pot. People can toss their stories in, building into a comprehensive community story. Amplifying joy. Diminishing grief. Pulling us together in celebration of the story.

All it takes is people willing to share – to toss their stories in – and someone willing to listen.

Do you want to know what’s really cool? It’s already started!

People told me that I seemed quite calm and natural, that I’m obviously a born storyteller, that the talk just flowed. Phew! However they saw it, they were excited. I got a lot of great traffic at the table and had some great exchanges that will hopefully lead to good coffee/beer/lunch conversations and future projects! I pulled Twitter responses to the talk together here.

The story of a visual migraine

The first time I got one was bad.  I was working from home – which at that time meant sitting on the floor of my husband’s study with my laptop.  I was having a hard time seeing what I was trying to do and realized that my vision was not focusing in the center.  It was just slightly out of whack.  What followed was almost the worst headache I’ve ever had (the one in Paris, with nausea, no pills, and a sprained ankle on top was the worst).  Bad.  I figured out that the vision problems were migraine aura – and became a bit paranoid that any other visual symptoms would have the same follow-up.

They changed a bit after that, though.  Sometimes there’s pain, sometimes not so much.  Lack of focus is now rather rare.  I get migraines monthly, but migraines with aura are less frequent – maybe just a couple a year.

Until this year.  I had a few weeks at the end of January/ beginning of February where I got one every day.  It was crazy.

It starts with a small segment of flashing color and black lines, maybe the size of your pinky nail, usually somewhere upper-right of middle.

It’s there even when you close your eyes.  You try to ignore it, but your eyes seem pulled to focus on it, which can cause a headache on its own.  Your eyes now can’t rest, dumbstruck by the flash even behind the lids.

And then it grows.  For me, it grows into a jittery, snake-y circle of triangular bright colors bordered by thick black lines.

Sometimes the center of the circle will blur.  Sometimes it seems like you can maybe see something in there….

Here’s my 6×6 piece for this year – a still of what this looks like.

*cough* This is still available for purchase ($20, money goes to Rochester Contemporary Art Center)  – you can see it live at ROCO or find it here online. *cough*

Art <3 Stories – JR Teeter

On a friend’s recommendation, I invited JR Teeter to speak as feature speaker at one of our Icarus sessions.   He spoke about his Bread & Water Theatre and the types of stories they choose to tell on their stage.  JR runs the Theatre and writes/ directs/ produces most of the shows.   His story, the 4th in this series, reveals his interests in understanding the underdog and the details of real events from unique perspectives.  I look forward to his upcoming shows!

The big question is: “Why do I do what I do?

That’s a complex question and there’s not one answer. But I can tell you about my life and where things go from there.

I grew up in a small community just outside Rochester. The only claims to fame that it has are the first Tom Wahl’s Restaurant (it’s still there) and there used to be a whole lot of sanitariums. Specifically for people going to the sulfur springs. There was a big belief in the 1920’s that if something smells bad, is horrible, tastes horrible, is uncomfortable – it must be good for you.

Me and my brother didn’t much like the environment, I don’t think, but it was a cool thing in that you could take a shovel, dig in the backyard, and you’d find something. You’d find pots and pans, you’d find bottles, you’d find all sorts of things, and we were always very much connected to this idea of history in the neighborhood. We were always intrigued by the idea of what was here before us. And we happened to be on one of the locations where there was a sanitarium. It ended up burning down right before our house was built. So I was always connected to this idea of history – where are we, how are things connected, things like that.

When I ended up going to college, I eventually ended up at Nazareth college, where there was a bunch of things going on at the same time. It was a transitional period in the college when it was going from the Sisters of St Joseph to a secular president. The Sisters instituted a whole bunch of policies to reflect their ideology – social justice, compassion for others – if you’re going to get a degree, it’s gotta help someone.

Then there was also the idea that, the theatre department was small enough that they would do these off kilter projects and plays that no one ever heard of. So it was a really great place to explore who you are – whereas at some colleges they just want to cookie cutter you into a thing.

When I came out of college, there was a lot of momentum to do something different. And to do something different that connects with people in a different way, possibly a more profound way. Because that’s what was demanded of you there – to think different.

As part of my thesis project, I adapted and directed a play. In terms of style and everything else, it was nothing to write home about – but one of the things that happened, and I believe this happens to a lot of artists, is that your first project is usually not successful, but it proves to you that you can do the project. That you’re capable of doing it.

One of the things that I kept gravitating towards is the real life stories of people. I found that as an actor, I wasn’t getting a lot of roles. Or at least the roles that I wanted to play. And I always felt that real life was more interesting. I actually had a career dream that I wanted to happen, which never ended up happening but it kind of speaks to this – I always wanted to play one of the guys on the re-enactments of America’s Most Wanted. If that guy’s really good, people will think that he’s the criminal. And that says a lot about what they’re able to do.

So this project proved that I could do something, that I could put something together and I could manage it. And that I could manage it in a way that other people couldn’t. A lot of other students were doing projects that were failing. Somehow I managed to do a project with 10 other people where it wasn’t a critical success, but it got done. And I thought maybe I can do this on a little more permanent basis and create something that fits me, that fits my worldview a little bit more. Because one of the things that I was seeing out there in the world was that if you can create your own version of art, it can be whatever you want it to be. You’re kind of the rulemaker.

That sort of thing was appealing. So I got together with some friends and we started working on stuff. And Bread & Water Theatre has gone through some different phases, but one of the things that it gravitates towards and I connect to is this notion of real people’s stories and telling them in a unique way. And I think one of the reasons why that ends up happening a lot is because I am an organizer, I am kind of a production manager – I can organize a lot of people and a lot of things, but I’m not terribly creative. In the sense that I can’t sit down like the Game of Thrones guy or JK Rowling and create a whole new universe with new characters and all that stuff. But what I can do is I can compile what’s there, what already exists, and I can compile it in a unique way and make something happen.

There’s a play that’s really dear to my heart that I worked on when I was in college, called “The Witnesses of Kitty Genovese”. It’s a collection of news articles, courtroom transcripts, things like that, put together in a play format. In a way, it feels like poetry because there’s a rhythm to it. There’s the rhythm of the newspaper reporter who, I hate to say it, but you could put music to it. If you read the newspaper every day, there’s a da dada dada dada dada to it. So that at the end where they say, “And he gets 30 years to life,” there’s the upstroke of music.

It’s all already there. It’s all already created. I’m just putting it in a context different from what other people see. That creates a kind of magic, because it takes the ordinary and makes it a little bit different. And that sort of work keeps continuing. It grows in different ways. But you can see with that particular play, you have the idea of a social conscience – I’m telling this story for a particular reason – to push some people’s buttons, and it still has this quality of poetry, and of acting. In an odd way, it appeals to the kid in me who watched America’s Most Wanted and said “I could play that guy.”

One of my current projects is “My Name is Mudd”, which deals with the Civil War and things like that. As I’ve gotten older, as I’ve started a family, as priorities change – one of the biggest questions that I have is where I come from. Who am I and how do I connect to what it means to be American? My parents are getting older. What do I need to ask them now that I need to know to make connections to the past? “My Name is Mudd” comes out of that notion. He was a man who really hated the way that his world was going. He was a Southern sympathizer, he hated Lincoln, he hated all of those things. It’s me in my 20’s. I didn’t know why that I hated these people, I just knew that Nirvana was playing, I needed to hate something, and I needed to do it with a passion. There’s a growing up that’s involved.

As I’ve grown up, things have changed. Now, it’s about how can I go about shaping this world that I live in. What contribution can I make that makes this mine? And artistically, that keeps coming up.

But you keep going, if you’re interested. Some people leave college and they say “this real world sucks – I’m going to get a job and see where it takes us.” But for me, I can’t work in an office, I can’t work in those places and this is really the only thing that I have going for me. I’ve kinda pigeon-holed myself in a horrible way, but what are you going to do?

And I look forward to the day when all the people who don’t want to be here are gone. So that me and my other artist friends (who I don’t know yet), can create a new way of doing things. There’s this notion of primalism coming back – and it’s so appealing to me. It’s about stories that already exist. You think you’ve heard this story, let me change it around a bit – use all real, all non-fiction sources and see where it gets us. Can I change your opinion of this story? Change your point of view? Will you leave the theatre changed? Ultimately, I can’t compete with television, I can’t compete with million dollar touring productions, you’re going to have to do something different. Rochester is at that place where great imagined things can happen. And then it’s – can I do it with the complications of daily life?

To sum up where I’m at – it’s this notion of non-fiction storytelling and it always ends up being steeped in history – of a certain place and time. It almost always pertains to me. Thankfully, not as egotistically as other art-forms. There’s something about this place that we’re living in, Rochester, that I think connects us in a weird sort of way. It’s definitely taken over me. I’ve moved to other places and nothing artistically happened. There’s a part of me that said “This isn’t where I’m supposed to be.” I need to be in a place of dilapidated buildings and I need to create something (that may not happen) in this vain attempt to change something. What it is, I don’t entirely know. It’s this notion that this neighborhood needs me, that I need to be put to use. That I need to be like a worker bee to make some sort of change – and if that change outlasts me – awesome! If it doesn’t, oh well.

Art <3 Stories – THE YARDS

Walking into the space at THE YARDS in late January was like being transported into a forest dream.  The medium – cardboard, colors,artists/players, dancers, and food all came together to create a fairy glen.  I heard several jaws hit the floor.  I, myself, toured the room like a little kid – getting excited at each new intricate detail that I spotted.

THE YARDS is an art collective cofounded by Sarah Rutherford and Lea Rizzo, located above Cure at the Rochester Public Market.  The show was Boys vs Girls 2 – the second annual team battle of cardboard creations between THE YARDS and 1975.

Every time I go to THE YARDS, though, something similar happens.  Everything comes together.  Whether it’s a sale among several artists, a special event for the collective, a gathering for dancing or poetry or anything, Sarah and Lea wrap everything together into a seamless theme.  It was these themed experiences – which create the perfect environment and stimulus for stories – that brought me to them as the third profile in the Art ❤ Stories project.

Sarah: Lea and I met over 5 years ago when we did Erich Lehman’s first show with 1975 Gallery at Surface Salon. I remember going to Erich’s house and seeing his crazy collection of art – and Lea’s piece was my favorite. I met her one night at the bar.“Oh, that’s Lea!”

Lea: Same thing. I saw her Wonder Woman series. Yeah, “We met at a bar.” It’s kinda funny. Erich has been such a huge support for both of us to get us out there. “All these great, talented people. I need to bring them together and get them out there.” It started with him really, our relationship.

Sarah: And after that show, we realized we had a kindred spirit for wanting to be more than what we were doing. We were really interested in pushing this idea of installation and creating experiences, vs just paintings. We’re both traditionally 2D trained but we were interested in seeing how far we could push that.

Lea: Which a lot of people think is crazy. “How are you going to make money off of that?”

Sarah: Yeah, it’s not practical.

Lea: It’s not always about that. It’s about sharing. And it also – to me it seems that some of that stuff is so pretentious – you’re not going to get it on the level where people are going to feel comfortable. Not everyone’s going to go into a gallery. Something like, where you just come in, you’re not expecting what you see, and it makes it easy. There aren’t these huge price tags on things. The idea of the visceral experience, I guess.

Sarah: One of my favorite artists is Swoon. She’s a street artist. I had recently come across this video of her doing this crazy collaboration with, I think it was 15 people, up in Maine. I remember watching this video. I remember watching and just being in awe. “I want that.” I didn’t really understand it. Now, I do. I didn’t understand the logistics and the pain and the hardship but then the beauty and the reward… any of it, but I saw it and thought: “I want that.”

Lea: And then you think: “I’m sure somebody else would, too.”

Sarah: I thought of Lea: “Well, man, she wants to explore this sort of installation element.” I saw the video at the same time that we came together. We were looking for a space to do something in, just a raw space. I had a studio in the Hungerford and I found a space in that building. But it was huge – it was 2,000 square feet. We were going to rent it for a month. “We can’t do a show in 2,000 square feet by ourselves.” So, we talked to Erich and he recom­mended St Monci, who also had a studio in the same building. And St Monci brought on Mr Prvrt – and that was how Sweet Meat Co. was born, which is our collective, and we did our first show in the Hungerford building in 2011.

Lea: And blew minds!

Sarah: Right. And again, we came together not really understanding what we were doing.

Lea: And we didn’t even know St Monci or Mr Prvrt.

Sarah: We didn’t know each other at all. It was just crazy. It was this crazy intense thing and we were really proud of it. A lot of people didn’t know what to make of it, because it was different. It was kind of our debut, as well, onto the Rochester scene. St Monci had only moved here two years before.

Lea: And Mr Prvrt was new to town, too.

Sarah: Yeah, he’d just come from Albany. So it was us truly coming together and getting out there in this different way.

Fast forward a year and a half. We were all doing our own things and cultivating a better relationship with each other. We did little, separate collaborations then said: “It’s time to come together and do another Sweet Meat Co. show.” I was working at Good Luck restaurant at the time and I talked to Mike Calabrese, who owns both that building and this one. So I asked him: “What’s going on up there?” The bakery was maybe moving in at the time, nothing else was down on the other side, and upstairs was completely empty.

Lea: And raw.

Sarah: It was dirty. There was stuff everywhere. It didn’t have electricity.

Lea: It didn’t have the walls.

Sarah: It was a beautiful space, still, but it was raw. Basically, they just ripped out all the in-between walls. Mike said: “Yeah, do whatever you want.” He gave it to us for the summer. We built this installation in the center of it and we had a show here. Mike loved the energy behind it. We had the upstairs open, someone else was doing something downstairs, the bakery was open. He loved that the building finally had vibrancy to it. He approached us after. “You should keep doing this.” So we said, “Alright, we could move our studio over here.”

Lea and I had already been talking about doing more, sharing more of a studio space. This came up and we said: “We don’t know what this means, but we’re going to jump on this because we can’t pass this space up.”

Lea: It’s totally backwards to a business kind of approach. It was: “Here’s the space, what do we do with it?” Michael could have easily rented the space out to lawyers and people who just made offices. Instead, I always say the heartbeat happened here. That wouldn’t have happened if it was just some paper-pushing…

Sarah: He wanted artists up here. There’s two other studios on the second floor. He wanted it to be food downstairs, art upstairs. That was his vision for the building, so I think it made him happy, as well. They’ve been huge supporters of ours, that family. That is another main reason why we are doing this, still.

So then, we thought: “What do we want to do?” We knew we wanted it to be a collaborative space. We didn’t know who we wanted to collaborate with or how it was going to work. We knew we didn’t want to open a gallery space. We weren’t Erich. We don’t have the same skillset as him, or the interest.

We’re not really as interested in just the paintings – we’re interested in the experience. It has been kind of this backwards way of finding our way through it – and the same thing with the group of people that we’ve had to participate with us. It’s been a slow ebb and flow. People that are truly invested have stayed with us and as we’ve done more and more we’ve built a bigger team.

Lea: Each event we do, we have at least 2 to 3 people who say: “I want to do something. How can I help?” We had this guy Aaron, who came to us over the summer because of WALL\THERAPY. His email said “I’m not an artist. I crunch numbers…” something like that. “But I want to do something with you.” He literally came in here that first day and washed the dishes. Just behind the scenes, real quiet. But he launched The Yards store and it was amazing – and has so many other ideas on an end that are just out of my realm. And that’s another way for us to get out there, for people to see what we’re doing.

Sarah: That’s where the culmination comes with this show. It’s what you can build that’s bigger than yourself. And using the talents that everyone has. That’s what we’ve been doing, is trying to build a team that has a diverse enough skillset. And we still have some gaps. We’re still looking to round that out, but I think in terms of this show – the reason why we feel so good about it is that it really encapsulates that building one voice from all these many voices, all these many skills and backgrounds.

Lea: For the most part this show is all female artists, but we have our crew of guys that come in and help us on the other end. It wouldn’t be the same.

Sarah: We’ve never intended to just start a female-run space, but we’ve definitely attracted a crew of strong women. We’re not going to be exclusionary, but it is kinda funny and amazing. I love the fact that so many amazing, talented women are a part of it.

Lea: I feel very lucky. And everyone’s yearning for it. We’re going to make it stronger by being together.

Sarah: For us, the most beautiful part wasn’t the show, it was the process of making the show.

Lea: Oh, my god it was awesome!

Sarah: I wish my life could be like that all the time. In this beautiful land of imagination, and building, and everyone working. It was this fever of activity.

Lea: And it’s therapeutic. A lot of that stuff – if you’re doing it separately all the time, you don’t realized how much you really need that other person’s opinion.

Sarah: Or being pushed.

Lea: Saying “I’m comfortable here but I’m going to step out of that.” And having the support because someone is right there going “Yeah! You can do it! That’s great!”

The mornings when we leave here and the baker is making stuff at 5:30 in the morning, and the market’s opening, and the roosters … We love it so much!

Sarah: I think I was searching for everything out of Sweet Meat Co. I think what we did here I was kind of looking for in Sweet Meat Co.– but now I’ve realized, it’s different. It’s its own artist. And now The Yards is kind of its own artist – in a much broader way. What was fulfilling is thinking back to watching that video and now thinking “We just did that. And better.”

That video was great and I was in love with it. I loved a lot of the artists. But it was just a bunch of people working without a plan. The fact that we came together with a solid concept and that we’re trying to create one specific atmosphere. I feel like we made one artist who built that. That’s what I’ve always been searching for.

We try and hit all of the senses and we try and use our skills. One dance company has been a huge part of our space, so obviously they need to be part of it. We just factor that in. When we built the carousel we said: “We’re going to move it with dancers.” That was the first thing we came up with. It wasn’t an afterthought, it was integral to what we’re going to make because we want them to be a big part of it.

I think being at the market has flavored what we do. I think the space would be different if it were somewhere else. There’s something about doing these crazy things at night at the market, especially before Cure was open and we were the only thing happening. It’s like a secret.

For this show, when we were coming together with this concept, we wanted to focus on one thing, which is where we hit on the carousel – and then we just started dreaming. “Let’s not do a traditional carousel, let’s do something with a bunch of lost girls wandering in the forest and they come across this carousel with its enchanted animals. We were just trying to let our imagination and play happen.

Lea: Because it’s really not serious. I mean, we’re making stuff out of cardboard, too, so it’s got to be fun. ­ Some people didn’t even work on the carousel, but they were integral in coming up with the concept, talking about it. Some people were working on the forest. And vice versa.

Even down to the color palette. That was another thing that really made it come together – having this cohesive color palette. Everyone worked with these limited colors. But its dramatic.

Sarah: Even thinking about us, as part of the show. It’s an excuse to be a kid and dress up and play with cardboard jewelry. Fun? It really was about fun, but everyone took it so seriously that it just made it that much better. I think that’s what made the show. It’s all in fun, but we were taking it very seriously. We didn’t clean our houses. We ignored our normal jobs. We ignored our lives for two weeks. To do something fun.

We aren’t trying to tell anybody what they’re supposed to be experiencing, we’re just trying to set a stage for people to come in and experience whatever they want to experience. It’s not like we’re trying to be so restrictive in the story or in the idea. It’s really more the stage that the story can be told in. Choose your own adventure!

Lea: And it’s just amazing for people – to see people walk in with that face …

– Photos by Lisa Barker
PS – Check out Lea’s profile in the latest issue of Rochester Woman magazine!

Rochester Stories 2014 officially underway!

I started gathering stories and planting the seeds of story gathering tonight at a local soup kitchen.  I’m working to expand the coverage of stories to people who I did not reach last year.  I have to say that I am very excited by the spirit of story sharing and the interest that I saw.    Several people did not have time to share or wanted to think a bit about their stories.  I will be going back and hope to meet more great people each time.  This will be cool!

Art <3 Stories – a new project from Storychick: Arleen Hodge

It dawned on me after November’s Icarus session, so many people making great art are telling stories. Their media may differ, as may their subjects and the ultimate aims, but there is a TON of storytelling happening.

This shouldn’t have been a surprise to me, as readers know that one of my strong arguments is that we are all storytellers in our own rights. Still, it struck me and I wanted to do something to build a community with the artist-storytellers. So I’ve set out to gather the stories of the storytellers. I’m hoping to build this into something else, but for now the project will materialize as a  posts here on the blog – under the category “Art ❤ Stories”.

The first story comes from Arlene Hodge. A documentary photographer, Arleen crafts the stories of the real lives of those on the margins of society, without the need for a single piece of text…

I typically start telling my story by mentioning that I’m twice divorced, a mom of three boys, and have a daughter who died. For a time, the pain and misfortune wrapped up in that statement colored everything I did. But now I am moving out of the darkness and into the light. The negative does not define who I am. So let me tell you a bit about myself.

I am an expert fisherperson. My Dad taught us all how to fish and I love to spend time fly fishing.

I am a certified herbalist and landscaper.

I am a fiber artist. I make civil war era penny rugs. In fact, several years ago, Early American Life magazine highlighted my work.

I have come from suffering, but it does not define me. I am moving forward back to my roots.

After I left my second marriage I spent a lot of time in Rochester and New York City walking for hours with my camera in hand. I’d see the homeless on the streets and in the parks and take their photos. I would come home with all of these photos, and not even know their names, let alone their stories.

So I decided to spend time with the homeless, to learn about them, to sleep with them, break bread with them – and to take their pictures.
I started by approaching some guys in a camp near the tracks. Here I am, a middle aged woman, asking if I can sleep alongside them and take their pictures. They embraced me, seeing my passion.

Reggie – Arleen Hodge Photography

It was Reggie who helped me understand how to tell their stories. As I was spending time with him and taking pictures, I was talking. I was telling my story and about my life. I was talking over him and taking pictures and he would just say “Arleen, could you just listen to me? Please … just … listen.” He would get very serious and I thought, … OK.

And I stopped talking and I started listening.

And when I did that, my photos changed. They just changed. It was healing, because I could look at the photos, you just know…

The thing about Reggie is that, years ago, he was a well-known basketball player here in Rochester. He used to work for Kodak and was there for a long time. During his breaks at Kodak, he would train jogging through the streets of Rochester, you know, he was always working out and working his basketball. Then his wife left him and he self-medicated, turning to drinking and drugs. And he got into that. And he didn’t care. He lives on the street. He has a club foot because he lost toes to diabetes. And that’s the way it is.

I’ve slept with the homeless – in the parking garage, at the House of Mercy, and on the streets. After nearly a year with them, I had several of their stories documented in my photos.

My work was getting noticed and local churches reached out. They wanted to show their congregations the faces of those they were helping through their charities. “We want to put a face to these marginalized folks,” they said. One night after sleeping with several homeless men at the South Wedge Mission in the church pews, I awoke, looked down upon them under the cross, the feeling was profound.

It changed my whole perspective on what I do, how I do it and why I do it.

I had more shows at more churches around town.
People saw my photos and realized that these are people on the streets – people with issues and complex stories, but real people who need and appreciate real help.

I do not see my work as street photography, but more poverty photography. And in that, instead of feeding off of the suffering of these guys on the street, I’m feeding off of the goodness inside them. Look at the smiles and the light in their faces. I still want to put a face to the suffering, to make my work humanitarian in every way. That means highlighting the whole human.

The other day, I put a photo up on Facebook of a homeless man sleeping on the concrete and captioned it with “What we need are Pillows for People”. The guys in the garage – they each have their spot and they all watch out for each, but it’s still dangerous and you don’t know what you might face each night. They don’t have homes, they don’t have places to store things. How much better would it be for them with a simple pillow? I just put it out there, not expecting any response, but several people responded right away, trying to figure out how to make it work. The guys won’t carry pillows around, a connection suggested Mylar emergency blankets, and inflatable pillows? People want to really make this happen, to give. That’s so awesome.

I’m finishing a degree in social work to become a certified drug counselor. I want to be able to understand everything the people I’m working with are dealing with. I don’t want to “fix” them, I want to do what I can to make their lives a little bit better, a little more positive – give them hope.

I can go to the parking garage tonight and find the guys and we’ll be high-fiving, and happy – despite the cold and their troubles.

There is joy to be found out there.

I’ve realized that we don’t have to wallow with one foot stuck in our past problems. We have layers to our stories, all of us. Yes, our past and our problems play a part in how we are defined, but they are not WHO we are.

I look to forward to 2014 – and plan to start it with a focus on what’s good.

One day, I want to be an old black woman, sitting on my porch and sharing my wisdom, gained from experience with life, but not without a sense of humor and still a lot of spunk and sass. I see this work as helping me take a step in that direction.

… Check out Arleen’s Facebook page and a recent piece on Rochester Subway, also. And keep an eye out around town for more in coming months!

As we close 2013 and head to 2014, I want to wish you all the best for a new year focused on the good and full of wonderful and powerful stories.  Thanks for your support of Storychick and watch here too for more!

It’s time to play the music …

We’re putting on a show!

(no music though)

All of the pieces to Rochester Stories are coming together.  Chasing them into place has distracted me a bit from posting.  There’s a lot to pulling something like this together.  Many, many thanks to my cast for making sure I didn’t miss anything! (And for being awesome, in general.)

I am so happy with how this has come out.  I think we have a great selection of stories from a mix of people and will challenge at least a few assumptions – and start some conversations.  I feel very good about reactions I’ve had from those I’ve shared the idea with and they’ve encouraged me to continue the effort.  After the show, I’ll take a look back and forward.  Figure out how to package and advise if spreading this to other communities.  Map out next steps for Rochester – more shows, school programs, splinter projects.

Stories can do a lot to heal and strengthen our community, to grow our confidence and compassion and self-esteem.  To get people excited to be here.  I’ve seen it working already.

If nothing else, this has helped me to confirm my passion and I’ve met some people who are quite wonderful to sit and talk with.  For those in Rochester reading this, I hope you can make the show! (Tickets available here or at the door.)

BTW, the 2013 First Niagara Rochester Fringe Festival looks AMAZING!  First, there’s a Spiegeltent!  It so reminds me of Mirrormask and magical, mystical acts!

There are so many great potential shows.  I’ll have to spend some time tomorrow mapping out what I’d like to do.  Here’s one I really want to see, as Storychick: Heart and Soul: Medicine and Life – Creative work from healthcare workers that reflects what it’s like to serve in their profession.

I can’t wait for the festival to begin! (And I’m crazy nervous for it to do so, but I can cope.)

 

And Now, for the Conclusion of … The Golden Lamb

I know you were waiting for it!  Here’s the end of the story of the Golden Lamb – and my favorite bits.

Today is also the Spokes & Ink festival (12-6) at the Genesee Center for Art & Education on Monroe Ave here in Rochester. There’ll be bands, food trucks, bikes, letterpress, and posters for sale! Check out the Storychick poster in the mix! 🙂

Storystarters

Things have been a bit crazy with a few consulting jobs and proposals, Rochester Stories progressing, and more.  You’ll see more posts more often rolling forward…

Today, the 6×6 sold-out artists were revealed.  Including me!

Using over 265 handmade beads, my 6×6 is a mosaic of a dark woods with a small cabin nestled inside.  I learned a few things doing it:

• 265 is a lot of beads!
• Working with beads alone, it was hard to build the picture I envisioned.
• Perspective is important, but hard when beads are all the same size, I’m working on that.
• Layering can soften awkward transition points.
• Too many similar colors (dark greens and browns, for example) make it hard to see the image.

I call this type of piece a Storystarter and this is the prototype for several in a series.  The mosaics are accompanied by a sentence or two.  Coupling sentence with image will encourage people to finish the story on their own and share it with others.

 

You can also see it on the RoCo page.

What do you think of the idea?

 

PS – Voting is open on the Idea Cafe grant until July 17th!  I’d love your support!