Painter of the Month

Rick

Painting of the Month this month is 'Painter of the Month.' His very first painting, the story is not so much of a polished aesthetic product, but the liberation of a kid who seemed to have no chance. They call him Ricky. We call him Rick.

Need to tell you about Rick. Where he's really at and what happened to him.

Rick has really severe physical limits. He uses a wheelchair, has no articulate use of his hands. He had a difficult time forming simple single words. Getting out a sentence with more complex words seemed beyond his ability.

Rick lives in a world where no one knew he knew what he wanted. A world where no one knew he was fully capable of taking charge of sophisticated creative processes. With exactness. They knew certain things about him, They knew they loved him and wanted the best for him, but in not knowing, that beneath the limits of his body there was this fully formed, fully ready to rumble, to take charge teenager, so they didn't offer him the power he needed. You could think of his situation as a bird in a cage. The bird the spirit the mind. The cage the body. And you could see the bird in the cage, but you had no idea the bird could fly. So you left it in its cage. If you knew it could fly, as A·R·T knew Rick could fly, it's a simple matter to open the cage door. The bird, in this case: Rick, would do the rest. What all of us saw happen last week when A·R·T met and got the chance to work with Rick, was that dramatic. That emotional. Emotional as the joy of a bird released from the cramped cage to fly free.

Rick was in there, ready to rock. But all of those around him couldn't see this. They gave him love and the best care: food, shelter, clothes, health care, and hygiene. But they didn't have the key he needed to emerge, to appear, to establish that he had this whole life inside him, like I said, ready to rock. They couldn't see that Rick was ready to demonstrate he was a serious, whole, determined individual who wants what we all want -- to get into the mix of life. To engage something that reflects the life inside him. Do you know what I'm trying to say? The way we engage the world through our work, our style, our sharing ourselves with other human beings.

In a two hour session this week at one of our satellite programs, we saw Rick emerge from the prison sympathy had with all the best intentions created. We saw his jailbreak. And the therapy staff saw it, and his mom saw it. And Rick saw, for the first time that those around him saw him. The real him. Take a look at the snapshots taken after his first painting session.

Prior to the studio session with Rick, Rick's mom, who is a smart, loving, optimistic lady, said that Ricky would not be appropriate for A·R·T That he was incapable of making such intensive, consequential decisions. The A·R·T system is indeed loaded with an infinite number of choices. So the teenager who appears to be cerebrally bombed out would never be able to link decisions concerning application tools, color blending, canvas size, and exact placement of paint.

So, Rick was rolled up to the studio workstation. Gallons of artist's colors, big roll of unprimed canvas, headbands, lasers, and buckets of brushes. It was easy to see the cocoon Rick was in. In the way he was willing to say, yes to most any question you asked him. This made him seem bombed out. Like he was not processing the question but was like a parrot, repeating the word that he'd learned pleased those around him.

A·R·T Tracker Tina Lam asks, "Do you want to use the laser, or the point system?"

"Yes."

Laser?"

"Yes."

"Point system?"

"Yes."

You can only use one or the other. One at a time. Which are you interested in using, the laser?"

"Yes."

Or the point system."

"Yes."

You see? Anyone standing about observing would feel that uncomfortable twisting, feeling for a person who isn't processing what's around him. You feel pity for them. You feel awkward. You might feel this, and the staff of this facility may have felt this. And his mom may have felt this as well, feeling bad for her fourteen-year-old son, so apparently incapable. But listen. We didn't feel this. A·R·T didn't think Rick was out of it. We figured, from having worked with hundreds and hundreds of individuals with the most severe physical challenges around the country, these passed 13 years, that Rick was just in the same old cocoon the pathos-driven world had kept the others in. Only comfort, nothing decisive for Rick to take charge of. It had fuzzed him out. The haze all about him, as it would be about you even after sitting three or four hours on a cramped jet, the air stale. You zone out. And picture being trapped for fourteen years straight.

So, the fun, the excitement, in this moment of drama, was in Tina and I knowing Rick could work his way up and out of the fog. All he needed was to see he would gain real power. That his will could grasp, take charge of, and realize real results, that would be purely his.

Rick was so far in the cocoon it took a while for him to emerge all the way to the surface. We saw he was emerging; by the way he was checking things out with the head-mounted laser he was using. He was checking things out, watching the ruby bead move about, and feeling what it was like to reach out beyond his body to touch things. So he laser-traced about the walls in front of him, checking out the sensation, the new ability, and not yet ready to paint. As he was in this stage of exploration the staff called out, Get the laser on the canvas. Get the laser on the canvas."

I had to ask them to be silent please, that Rick was now in charge; that it was his time not theirs. Rick liked this. He liked hearing a man say this. Can you picture how this might feel for him? To get some body to block the soft and fuzzy smothering that had him in its grip these last 14 years?

So, in his own time Rick moved the laser onto the canvas. And with his chosen colors and brushes he began to paint. He was on his way. But staff had to run over to adjust him in his wheelchair.

"What's up?" I asked.

"He needs to be adjusted."

"He seemed to be doing fine. He's working inside the canvas. He's working. He didn't call for help."

"It is painful for him when he slumps in his chair."

"It didn't seem to be stopping him from working."

You see? Their priority was their role in caring for him. Doing their job. Which concerned his body, his comfort. Instinctively they valued this over his break out, so interrupted him in this key moment of his emergence.

When we managed to get everyone to stay clear and to stop talking, Rick proceeded to make more and more sophisticated moves, such as using a point outside the canvas to create a certain curve on the painting. Let me describe this. A trainee was now acting as the Tracker for Rick. Rick designated two points. One on the canvas, one on the board above the canvas. The trainee balked, but I saw what Rick was after. Using the long plastic belt of the A·R·T Curve-maker, he could only create the curve he wanted if the curve-maker was wrapped around one pushpin on the canvas and one off the canvas.

"He knows what he's doing." I say.

A moment of silence. Then in this clear voice Rick tells the trainee, "Curve."

The room filled with gasps. Had he, in this clear voice, commanded: curve?

An hour further into his session, fully in the groove, everyone watching, when asked if a point was located where he wanted it, he announced, "No."

This elicited an eruption of applause. Amazed calling, hoots cheers, and whistling, Rick beside himself with the fun of having caused such a reaction.

Rick was out. And he was rolling.

He worked on, his energy never flagging. When they insisted he take a bathroom break he was fixed on his painting as they wheeled him backwards, away.

And when he returned it was immediately back to work, proving he had the subtlest understanding of the techniques. It was so clear, how he was insisting on subtle angles for individual touches of the brush. The staff was seeing this. His mom was seeing this. And although this his very first painting was mostly an exploration of the techniques, his later paintings would reveal more and more who he really was, and what he was all about. And soon enough his work would be in some major gallery or art museum exhibition we would help this new program secure. And Rick would have his night. He'd see the way people looked at his work. How they took it seriously. How what he created had real meaning. How what he'd created had real value in the real world. And from here on out you can bet Rick won't be saying yes to everything any more.