My painting is a time machine. If I had one I would go back to a certain date and everything in my life would be different. The yellow light means the machine is on, the white stripes symbolize purity, and the black machine is my real problem. This painting shows how much I really want to change.

In our last painting class in juvenile hall for this series, I overheard J. say, “Face it. If you are prostituting yourself, you are a prostitute. If you stole a car, you are a car thief. That’s just the way it is.”

At first I was glad to hear her say this because it sounds like taking responsibility for one’s actions. In retrospect, though, I would have liked to have talked more to her about this. Are we defined by what we do? If we are, can that definition change even though we can’t change the past?

Can we be redeemed, even if we seriously screw up?

Of course I believe in redemption or I wouldn’t do what I do. I think it is telling that last week our painting topic was ” who do you have to forgive and why?” and all the girls chose themselves. One thing I know for sure is that redemption may be possible, but it sure is not easy.

Next year's 5th graders, Malcolm X Academy

Attending the 5th grade graduation at Malcolm X Academy yesterday gave me a great opportunity to reflect on why Brush Fire is so important to me. In a nutshell, it helps me to grow and hopefully gives the students something to hang their hats on too. At the very least, getting to know this group of youth has given me a huge appreciation for all the changes a person goes through between the ages of 7 and 10. I also appreciate the immense resilience available to all kids, especially this group.

As I watched them walk across the stage to get their diplomas, I tried to see the men and women they will become. They may not ever know how much I’ll miss them, but as their lives stretch out in front of them, I hope they will rely on their creativity, their extraordinary ability to make something new and exciting and healthy and whole out of what ever circumstances they find themselves in.

The 2009 graduating class at MXA

June 9th is the last day of school for students in San Francisco Unified School District. This day is especially poignant for me this year, as I will be saying good bye to many people who have had a huge impact on my life over the past years.

First, I will be sad to say good-bye to the 5th grade class at Malcolm X Academy. I feel so fortunate that we were able to work together since most of them were in 2nd grade. I learned so much about the power of unconditional love and uncritical support for creative process by working so long with them. In fact, the trusting relationship I have with so many of them as a result of our work over the years is one of my most prized possessions. I’m pleased that we were able to work on the mural together. They made me so proud with their teamwork and best efforts. I’m glad that I will have their mural to look at next year, when they are disbursed to middle schools around the city.

My other long-term relationship with a student that ends with graduation is with T., a senior at Mission High. She has been painting with me since she was a freshman. It has been delightful to watch her grow from a goofy 9th grader to an intelligent, informed young woman. Along the way, I’ve watched her grow more confident in her creativity, which I hope will serve her well. I’m not sure if she is going to graduate; due to some really crappy family circumstances that were not in her control, she was not able to attend her classes on a regular basis. Regardless, I wish her well and I hope she will carry the lessons she learned from her creative process with her, just like I carry mine with me.

The finished mural hanging in the art room.

The May 4th 2009 edition of the Nation includes an article by Jeff Chang titled “The Creative Stimulus” (http://www.thenation.com/doc/20090504/chang) which gives voice to the power of creative expression in a way I rarely see. He talks about art as a way to not only restore human dignity, but in doing so, becoming an economic engine much different that the economics of art we have seen so far in our history.

“Culture is not just something conservatives wage war on,” Chang says. “The arts are not just something liberals dress up for on weekends. Creativity can be a powerful form of organizing communities from the bottom up.”

In the Brush Fire framework, we say that personal expression is a vitally important for a whole life. It is the generator of the ideas that create change and the power to manifest those ideas in life. This is crucial work for all communities in all times, but especially communities where access to power is limited.

Speaking of two arts-based communities in Oakland, Chang says, “Their communities are the most vulnerable to assaults on creativity, but they are also incubators of the most innovative ideas and movements of our time. This ‘creative communities’ approach has created a vigorous and vital alternative to neoliberal and neoconservative versions of change.”

From Brush Fire’s perspective, the alternative to all recognized versions of change comes from following the true creative impulse. When we are truly creative, we are not imitating anything that’s come before so solutions to problems are not only novel, but they resonate with the deepest parts of us. That resonance creates a lasting change as we live our way into the answers. That way, we can be free of corporate influences and the creation of “lifestyle economies” and concentrate instead on change that sustains and enriches communities.

Can we really create a new economy based on creativity-fueled change? I’m not sure if the global mind shift that would be required of us is possible. What do you think?

M's first Brush Fire painting

After two weeks of lockdown during our program, we are back on track at juvenile hall. Since the girls typically get shorter sentences, three of the painters who began this round of programming have been released. One of them, M., knew she’d be getting out and she confided in me that she was a little scared. She’s turning 18 and has timed out of the system.

I was surprised to hear she wasn’t thrilled to leave the place behind her. I assumed that the punitive nature of incarceration would make anyone happy to go. M. told me she’s been in the system her whole life, first as a baby in foster care, then in juvie on and off for her entire adolescence. She told me that a woman who only cares about gambling and drinking adopted her at some point, but she really didn’t make much of a mother. In fact, M. said that the only place in the world she feels cared for is in juvenile hall. Something about people setting limits and expectations makes her want to do better for herself.

So know she is being dropped into the world with no safety net, no skills, and talent for getting into trouble. She also has a talent for painting. It was hard to get her to leave one of her paintings behind, but she finally agreed to share her very first painting. Here’s what she had to say about it:

This painting is about my anger and not being able to act on it. The red is because it is the color of anger, the x’s because I couldn’t do anything to change my situation, and the tear drops because all I could do was cry – they are tears of anger.

" My painting is about how I feel ­ me feeling antsy plus all my emotions mixed together...." S.S., March 2009, san Mateo Juvenile Hall

Today I attended my first public grant panel at the SF Arts Commission. Among the proposals under consideration was the YMCA request for continued funding for art programs at Malcolm X Academy. Yes, that’s right: This morning I sat with a handful of strangers listening to four arts experts judge a variety of projects competing for commission funds, including Brush Fire’s work at our most beloved school. Can you imagine anything more nerve wracking?

I have to hand it to the panel members. They sure know their stuff. All four of them had clearly read each proposal carefully. Most of their comments were focused on passages that were inconsistent or confusing, programs that were overambitious or unoriginal, and budgets that were unrealistic or incomplete. I was especially impressed with one panelist who started out each of her comments with “I wonder if?” as if she were tossing off some casual thought only to follow with a question or comment that revealed a wealth of knowledge about after school art programs. I got myself a little worked up by the time our proposal was reviewed. The panel had been smart and thorough. What if they don’t stand behind art as a tool for healing? How would I say goodbye to Malcolm X students if we lose our funding? These thoughts tumbled across my awareness as my stomach swirled in anticipation.

We won’t know the outcome for a few weeks yet, but I’m pleased to report that the review was quite positive! They were charmed by the slide show of our kids doing art, and they had few negative comments regarding the clarity of the program design. A few of them mentioned that they really liked our reasons for the 5th grade mural. I’ll keep my fingers crossed and hope for the best!

One of the art super stars at Malcolm X Academy

It seems to be a given that in any classroom, there will be one kid who has a harder time than other kids staying focused on his painting. It is less often true that the kid with attention deficit finds a way to calm himself down and stay on task.

So I was surprised one day to find L. in the back of the classroom quietly working on a painting. L. is not a bad kid, he’s just easily distracted, but even so, I found myself wondering if his silence was the sign of some wrong doing. I sidled up to him and saw he was mixing colors with more concentration that I’d seen him display in all our classes combined. Not wanting to break the spell, I left him alone, but I kept him in my peripheral vision in case something changed.

Nearly five minutes went by before L. picked his head up and announced. “Hey Everybody! Guess what! Red and blue and purple are brothers!” The kid discovered color theory on his own! What an awesome experience; way more awesome than if I had showed him.

Painters from Malcolm X Academy when they were in 2nd grade

Today’s class at MXA was only the boys (the girls have running club one day a week) which gave me a good chance to talk with the boys about what it takes to work as a team. I explained to them that we only have one mural so we need one team; not a girl team and a boy team, but one team. I asked them for their ideas about how to make it work.

For the most part, they had great ideas. We talked about how to show each other respect, take turns and listen. We talked about how put downs are not helpful and agreed we would use ‘put ups’ instead. All in all, they came up with 10 really good rules (11 if you count “don’t fart in class.”) I am curious to see what the girls want to add.

I realize the mural project is not just for them, but a way for me to spend extra time with them before they move on to middle school and deeper into the new awareness that comes with that age. I’m lucky to have this concentrated time to say good-bye to my babies.

Painters from Malcolm X Academy when they were in 2nd grade

Last week, we broke out of our usual programming mode at Malcolm X Academy to start a community mural with the 5th graders. I love these kids. I’ve had the good fortune of working with them for the past 4 years. They were in 2nd grade when we first started painting together, and I care about them more that I thought possible.

The mural project is meant to mark the 5th graders’ transition from elementary school to middle school. I want the mural to be a place where they can show what is important to them, what legacy they are leaving behind, and what they would like to be remembered for. There are precious few rituals we have to mark the passage into adulthood and I wanted to acknowledge them in some meaningful way.

In my mind, these students were just taller versions of the babies the were 4 years ago, when they were open and soft and easily delighted by their creative discoveries. I was not prepared for what I got: a boisterous, gender-segregated mass of conflicting feelings and immature decisions driven by impending puberty. They were cranky and argumentative with each other and way more interested in antagonizing their classmates than working together on a mural.

Luckily, I have the classroom management skills to handle the situation. Sadly, though, I miss those open, innocent painters I used to know. I’m shocked that I didn’t see these inevitable changes coming. I guess I forgot about the hormones.

"Sunshine" in her heart. Painting by a kindergartner at MXA.

Today I’m thinking of A., a new student in the kindergarten class at Malcolm X Academy. Malcolm X Academy is in San Francisco’s Hunter’s Point neighborhood. For those of you who don’t know, this neighborhood is not in the best shape. If you pay attention to the news, you know that much of the gang and drug violence takes place in this section of our city. If you live in San Francisco, you may never have visited this section of town.

There’s no denying that poverty is rampant in this part of town and so many of the bad effects of racism and classicism exist there. But there is the undeniable – and less publicized ­ truth that the children who live in this neighborhood and attend Malcolm X Academy are beautiful, resilient, creative beings.

Now, as cute as they are, it took me a long time to agree to paint with kindergarten classes. I thought that they would be too little, too unfocused, too excitable for me to handle. This year, I decided to challenge myself a little bit and decided to take them on.

We had a great time with the kindergarteners at Malcolm X. We painted our dreams and we painted what kindness looks like. We painted things with wheels and things that fly. We painted things we like to do outside in nature and we painted loud things and quiet things and things that are big and small and dark and light. It was a blast. This brings me back to A.

One particular day, A. was painting hearts all over her paper – ­ she was literally painting her heart out. Using every color in her palette, she carefully painted a curve one way and then the other, creating sweet heart shapes. When it looked as if she was just about finished, I asked her whose hearts she was painting. “Mine,” she said, as she pointed to one of the red hearts at the bottom. Looking carefully at the outlines heart I asked her, “What’s inside your heart?” Without skipping a beat, she said in her little 5-year-old voice, “Sunshine!” and proceeded to paint a yellow sun in side the heart she claimed for herself. I melted. Not only is she the new kid in school, and not only is she new in a neighborhood known for its chaos but somehow in the middle of all that, she still knows her heart held the sunshine.