I became homeless about a year and a half ago. Like a lot of people, I found my way to the day center at the Room It The Inn here in Nashville. For someone experiencing homelessness, I would describe the organization as a lifeboat in the middle of shark-infested waters. They offer essential services (showers, laundry, mail), educational classes, crisis support, and are willing to help anyone who wants help.
Eventually I found my way upstairs to the Art Room. Delia Seigenthaler runs the art program at the Inn. She and a group of volunteers teach classes just about every weekday. All of them are kind, supportive, and absolutely perfect in their own way.
I grew up like a lot of kids watching Bob Ross on PBS painting happy little trees and wanted to try painting but never had the opportunity. So, when I got to the Art Room, I grabbed a brush and went to town. One of the first things I painted was a guy I named “Marcus”. He was imposing looking fellow that looked like he was in the middle of a bad day. I used red, white and black acrylic paint on a wood panel. I was proud.
Since then, I’ve painted several other things, some good and some that went into the trash can at the end of the day.
Recently one of the mental health counselors that provides services at the Inn stopped by the Art room. She was looking at everyone’s work and asked me which pieces were mine. I showed her Marcus and some other things I had done. She complemented me on all of them and then quickly circled back to Marcus. She asked me, “What made you want to paint this piece?” I told her I didn’t know; I guess it was just a feeling I had at the time. She looked at me rather concerned and said, “You’re not experiencing any of those feelings now, are you?” I laughed and assured her I was not wanting to harm myself or others. The question struck me as funny, but later I started thinking about what was going on in my life when I painted Marcus. Being newly homeless, it was a stressful time in my life to say the least. I thought about the person I was before and after painting him.
Until that day she asked me that question, I had never thought about what art was doing for me or the therapeutic effects it had on me. I noticed there is a tremendous euphoric feeling that comes from the whole creation process, and I now know it can also be somewhat cleansing. I think the day I painted Marcus he left my head, traveled down my arm and exited out of my paintbrush onto the canvas, and with him he brought a lot of the frustration, anger, and hate that created him in the first place.
Right now, at the Frist Museum they are having an exhibit featuring artworks from some of their community partners. These are different organizations that provide social services, community centers, and advocacy groups. I think a lot of the art you will see there was created out of a therapeutic need and serves as their own personal record of healing. I invite everyone to go see the exhibit. It is truly amazing.
I don’t paint pictures like Marcus much anymore. Now I’ve moved on to calmer things like flowers and such. I even painted a landscape the other day.