Arts & Culture

Like other gay bars of the 1950s and 1960s, the Stonewall Inn in New York City was subject to regular police raids. Mostly, patrons were so afraid of being exposed and losing their jobs, livelihoods, families and reputations that they suffered silently through the raids. But that would only go so far.

Denizens of the Stonewall included lesbians, gay men and transgendered people, some of whom had little to lose, and for whatever reason they had reached a breaking point. When the police raided the bar on June 28, 1969, patrons fought back. The riots that took place marked a confrontational new tack in the fight for LGBT rights. And in the years since, annual marches—now known as Pride Parades—have taken place the last weekend of June in cities around the world.

As I race around this holiday season, pulling late nights wrapping and boxing up countless gifts to friends and relatives far and wide, then lugging said packages in great heaps to the post office for ground or priority or rush shipping, depending on the day and my state of mind, I have to take a moment to acknowledge the efficiency and simple industry of the cardboard box.

So basic. So useful. So ubiquitous. So kind of boring. But what would we do without them? Really. They come in all sizes. They’re pretty sturdy. They’re basic in that clean, no frills, Dwell Magazine sort of way. They come equipped with various flaps, slits and tucks for easy transformation into the squares and rectangles that we fill with stuff.

First Friday, Second Thursday, Third Saturday… Cities and towns all over are claiming days to celebrate local culture with “Art Walks”.

For a few hours each month, galleries, stores, hotels, restaurants and small businesses open their doors to display local artwork free of charge. People walk around, sip refreshments, snack on hors d’oeuvres and take in the local talent.

From Los Angeles, CA to Portland, ME, Burlington, VT to Fort Lauderdale, FL, art walks are popping up everywhere.

They’re becoming more and more common in small towns as well. These art-oriented events are a new way to promote civic pride, celebrate local culture, and boost economic development.

I taught a class on the American Dream while student teaching last year. I gave students markers and giant pieces of paper and asked them to draw whatever popped into their minds when they thought of the “American Dream”.

Nearly every student’s paper included a simple drawing of a house—a square with a triangle roof attached, four little windows and a front door. This should not have surprised me; my drawing also had a house. But this caused me to wonder: is single-family home ownership the ultimate expression of the American Dream?

In a room filled with artwork, news clippings and photos, interested citizens spent the evening of November 15th celebrating Starksboro’s Art & Soul Civic Engagement project, which used art and storytelling to identify and enhance the community’s shared values.

The event, hosted in Bristol, Vermont’s Town Hall, aimed to share the stories and successes of the project, thank the key movers-and-shakers, acknowledge valuable partnerships, and inspire other communities to start their own creative community explorations.

Photo: Walden Pond, Creative Commons

I saw a girl today wearing a t-shirt bearing the slogan, “If you don’t have it, you don’t need it.”

My first thoght was, Probably true. My second thought was, Only in this country would a shirt like that read like a poignant insight. My third thought: If that’s the case, so much for capitalism and the market economy. And then with a smidgen of sarcasm, What are we all so worried about?!

There is no shortage of artists using the tools of their trade to create social change. But each time I run across a story about Lily Yeh, acclaimed visual artist and founder of Barefoot Artists, I am humbled and inspired by her work, using the power of art to revitalize impoverished communities.

As Lily describes in a recent interview with David Kupfer, “Making art in destitute situations is like making fire in the darkness of a winter’s night. It gives out warmth and light; it beckons and rekindles hope. It does not directly solve problems but it creates a fresh, nurturing environment in which new possibilities and methodology can emerge.”

“My work engages people, whose participation ensures its sustainability. This is why I call my art living social sculpture. It usually begins with making art with people; it then expands to include other activities such as storytelling, education, construction and economic initiatives. The living fabrics of communities become the canvas of my work, creativity its fuel, people’s talent and imagination its palette and tools. In the poor communities where I have worked, this process often leads to an improved environment, a better quality life, and a sense of joy and hope for the future.”

You may remember the children’s story...

Two soldiers walk into town empty-handed and in desperate need of a good dinner. The stingy villagers won’t invite them in to dine, but when the soldiers start cooking up a batch of Stone Soup, the villagers get curious and toss in a carrot here, a potato there, just to see what happens. Yadda, yadda, yadda...

In no time at all, the whole village settles in to enjoy a feast—and a community—cooked up seemingly out of nothing.