WEEKLY WRITER'S PATH #30
As a high school student in a suburban Chicago neighborhood, I received a rich education in the arts. I made films, wrote short stories, directed and acted in plays, was published in the literary magazine and editor of the weekly newspaper, had private voice lessons, sang in concerts with the Chicago Symphony and even made records of original music written for our choirs.
When I was 16, my father became very ill. I was unable to share what I was going through with my friends, but I wrote every day, sometimes two or three times. When he died of lung cancer and I returned to classes, it was a wrenching experience. My solution was to hide in the choir room. In choir we didn’t face each other, or have to talk. Sometimes I would open my mouth and nothing would come out because my throat was clenched up tight, but that was OK. Writing and singing helped me plod through the day-to-day banality that covers your life when that kind of trauma happens.
I don’t think my experience was unusual. In fact, the ability to express yourself creatively is a common path through grief—and for me—a graceful and fulfilling one. I can’t imagine how one could make it through a troubling time without a poem from a friend or poring out their heart into a painting, or singing a dirge.
It’s surprising how little my own children receive in the way of publicly-funded arts programs in their schools. However, because of city-sponsored events and my own volunteered time, I have been able to take them to world-class operas, to jazz shows, to art galleries, chamber music concerts, dance recitals, art classes, theatre—all for free or for very minimal costs. In this way they have been able to experience the power of art.
I don’t believe that NEA tagline that says, “a great nation deserves great art.” That makes it sound like you put together this great place and add art later; like you get desert because you ate all your broccoli.
More truthfully I think is the fact that great art creates and defines a great nation. Art is the broccoli, the main course—or at least a dietary staple.
Art also tends to tell you when a nation isn’t so great anymore.
