INTRODUCTION

There are 17 prisons in California, scattered from one end of the state to the other. These "correctional facilities" are often the only significant "industry" in the "prison towns" where they are located. During my eight years as director of the state`s prison arts program, I spent a lot of time traveling from one small, out-of-the-way prison town to another.

The mountain of messages was particularly high when I returned from one long trip on a chilly Monday in the early spring of 1985. As I went through the stack, I noticed that there were quite a few from my friend Susan Hill, the director of Artsreach, one of our two major contractors. This was not unusual in itself, because we talked all the time, but three or four had intriguingly urgent messages such as, "Call me soon, got a great idea" or "Call as soon as you get back."

When I got through to Susan, she asked excitedly what I knew about grants from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA). I said I’d written a few and was familiar with the application process but that was about it. She said a friend of hers had suggested that Artsreach apply for one of the Endowment’s Arts Education Special Projects grants to fund a conference. Before I could ask any questions, she charged on, saying that although she had more than enough work to do as it was, she thought it was a great idea. She continued that she had given it a lot of thought and felt that it should be a national conference and that it should be about our work. I finally jumped in and said I didn’t think the NEA would be very responsive to a conference about art in prisons. She said, "No! Not just prisons. It will be about artists working in all of the forgotten and hidden places: mental hospitals, senior citizens’ centers, youth homes, on the street, all those places and more." She said, "I need a partner. Are you willing?" I said, "Sure."

Our partnership produced a proposal for a four-day conference. The conference would "provide a forum for artists working in non-conventional settings to meet each other for the first time and share their innovative approaches with a larger audience." We defined nonconventional settings broadly as social institutions and nonacademic community sites. We argued that the ideas and techniques that had been developed by artists such as muralist Judy Baca working with inner city youth, John Bergman’s prison theater group, and Liz Lerman’s senior dance company, had relevance to mainstream arts educators and beyond. We decried the fact that nobody anywhere was gathering this information. The proposal also called for a manual documenting of the conference proceedings.

Although we felt we’d done a pretty good job, it was a long shot, and we knew it. Two years into the second Reagan administration we were proposing a conference for a group of artists that nobody knew existed, who worked with people almost everybody had been trying to forget. I was quite surprised when Susan called me, months later, and said, "We got it." "Great!" I said, "What do we do now?"

THE AOP CONFERENCE

The Art in Other Places (AOP) conference was scheduled to be held at the University of California at Los Angeles on August 21, 22, and 23, 1986. On August 20, 25 artists from 13 states, who had been invited to make presentations during the following three days, gathered at the UCLA conference center in Malibu for an historic preconference symposium. Actually, what we were calling a symposium was more like a reunion for these artists–a reunion of relatives who had never been introduced.

Once we started, the questions and stories and conversation never seemed to stop. The day began with Susan’s telling us that she had decided to hold a conference so she could finally meet some people who could understand "what the hell she was talking about." After the laughter died down, she proposed that "rather than begin with introductions, we start with a question and see where it takes us." She asked us to think back and describe a major turning point for us in our work.

As I listened to the incredible stories–the endless struggles, the small triumphs, the amazing breakthroughs–I found myself being profoundly affected. Having helped to select these artists, I had been aware of their credentials and accomplishments, but this was something else. This wasn’t just resumé material. These were adventures, quests even. The stories were exciting, and with each speaker I was learning something new, some new application or approach that had produced both quality art and significant change in a hospital or mental facility patient, or prisoner. After each person finished, I wanted to hear more, much more.

Later that day, as I reflected back on the remarkable collage of ideas, characters, and drama that had inhabited the meeting room, I thought about the responsibility we had assumed by bringing these people together. These artists working in the forgotten corners of our society had found or forged new ways of making significant change. They were addressing and helping to solve some of our country’s most pressing problems. Most of them had been doing it for years, and yet nobody knew. We hardly knew ourselves. But now we did, and having taken on the responsibility for documenting the conference, it was my job to make that information available to the rest of the world. It was clear that the collection of brief project descriptions we had planned to publish was not going to cut it. They deserved more. To do it right we would have to provide more than basic facts and a few case histories. Our documentation would have to reflect these artists’ vivid histories and speak their dreams as they had spoken them that day. To do them justice, what was once envisioned as a photocopied manual was going to have to be much more.

The conference itself continued with the energy and enthusiasm that had been generated at the Malibu meeting. Although it was held in a fairly traditional setting, what went on in the classrooms and lecture halls of UCLA bore little resemblance to the typical conference, arts or otherwise. Susan and her staff, who had conceived and coordinated the agenda, had been bound and determined to put on a conference that placed less emphasis on talk and more on experience. In her words, "Doing, doing, doing."

The "doing" went on day and night, literally. In addition to discussion panels and presentations, the 200 or so conference goers were given many opportunities to engage in what they had come to hear about. Grady Hillman and Joe Bruchac’s poetry workshop ended up choreographing a group poem set to music. After working up a sweat removing all the desks and chairs in one classroom, members of Laurie Meadoff’s workshop joined in the creation of a "rap ensemble." Congolese musician Malongla Casquelourd had his 20-plus participants chanting and clapping a traditional tribal song that he had taught to inmates at San Quentin Prison. Others, building on the spirit of discovery that imbued the conference, improvised their own agenda, forming small groups to trade stories and ideas, planning collaborations, some just singing and dancing into the night. UCLA had become an "other place."

THE BOOK

This book is an attempt to fulfill a promise I made to myself after the Art in Other Places conference was over. Simply put, I vowed to try to give these invisible artists some of the recognition they deserve. I also committed myself to putting as much of the conference as I could into these pages. In the months following, as I reviewed the many hours of the recorded conference workshops and discussions, I gained an even greater sense of respect for what we had heard and experienced in Los Angeles. I recognized, though, that if the heart and soul of this work was to come through in the book, I would have to let the artists speak for themselves.

To that end I have endeavored to minimize the narrative content of the book in favor of the voices of artists telling their stories. As a result, the paths followed by these histories are dictated as much by the people relating them as they are by my hand. Some concentrate on early professional or educational influences. Others speak almost solely about how their artistic processes or techniques have evolved over the years. There is intimacy as well as distance–great detail and broad generalization. This is not an annotated dissertation or a how-to manual, and it will probably generate more questions than it has answers. Which is fine, as long as I have aroused your curiosity enough to motivate you to find out more. This is a book about works in progress. The scripts are well developed and full, but they are still evolving. The characters are big. They fill their unconventional stages and studios with an incredible variety of ideas and ways of seeing the world. If this were, in fact, a work of fiction, many of these lives are too robust to coexist within the covers of the same book. After you meet them, it will be clear that their paths, though moving in the same direction, vary widely. There is no one way to work in another place.

To set the stage for these characters and stories, professionals from the seven constituent/site categories addressed in the book have contributed to a series of descriptive summaries of the issues and challenges being faced in their respective fields. These very brief summaries, which preface each of the book’s first seven sections, are entitled "Inside Other Places." They are meant to give the reader a basic introduction to the various sites and constituencies being served by these artists.

IN SEARCH OF THE FIELD

It is important for the reader to recognize that prior to the Art in Other Places conference, artists working in social institutions and communities did not necessarily see themselves as part of an identifiable group of arts professionals. They simply did not know, and in many cases are still unaware, of the scope of the work being done. The conference and this book are first steps towards making both the arts world and the general public more cognizant of the quiet revolution we discovered as a result of producing the conference.

Many of these artists have no affiliation with arts organizations or arts councils. Oftentimes the mainstream arts community in their state or locality is not even aware that the work is going on. Those that are aware may not acknowledge that the classes or residencies taking place in nonconventional sites are a legitimate arts activity. This attitude is fed, all too often, by the unfortunate assumption that an artist working with "those people" is doing so because their work is second rate. This point of view, often held even by fellow artists, serves to further isolate the artist working in nonconventional sites. Another contributor to the elusive nature of the field is the tendency for some programs to start up and fade away before anyone in the "real world" notices them. In a majority of cases, this transient condition is a function of economics. Since community and institutional arts programing are not a funding priority in most areas, many are dependent on artists volunteering all or part of their time for their existence. It only follows that without an enormous pool of arts professionals willing to donate services, the lifespan of these programs is limited.

My experience looking for this constituency during the last two years leads me to believe that we have yet to gain a true sense of the depth and breadth of the work of artists in other places. This book only begins to scratch the surface of an extraordinary, new professional movement in the arts. The directory at the end of this book should not by any means be considered definitive. Many exemplary programs are only briefly mentioned or summarized. Others, unknown to me at present, will undoubtedly surface as a result of the publication of this book. My intent in making this information available has been to provide a few examples of the many artists who have begun to establish the creative processes as a valuable community resource. I hope that, as a result, more people will come to recognize the enormous capacity of the arts to improve the way we live.

COMMON GROUND

The word "movement" is being associated more and more with the work of artists in other places. This term is often taken to imply a uniformity of belief and intent by a group marching in concert. As you will learn in the succeeding chapters, this is certainly not the case with artists characterized in this book. Clear differences of approach and philosophy are articulated on such subjects as the merits of art versus therapy, the economics of artistic integrity, and the mixing of politics and art. I myself find this diversity to be encouraging. The absence of a singular dogma or creed and a willingness to differ are, to me, signs of stability and maturity in the field. The variety of approaches also tells me that what I am describing here is, in fact, a true movement, rather than a fad or trend. On the other hand, because of the relative isolation in which many of these programs have developed, the similarities that have evolved are particularly interesting. This common ground was, in a sense, discovered as a result of the conference. Given the newness of the dialogue, its exploration certainly continues, but areas stand out that bear discussion.

One of the most obvious similarities is the clear artistic focus of these programs. With one or two exceptions they have been established by individual professional artists who had little or no formal experience or training working with special populations. Although the circumstances leading to their involvement vary widely, these artists, for the most part, began their work as artists making art, not as artists doing something else. As a result, they created art programs, not therapeutic or remedial programs that used art as a vehicle. This does not mean that they were not concerned with solving problems or unaware of the therapeutic or self-esteem building effects of their efforts. Quite the opposite, in fact. They contend that these benefits are the unavoidable consequence of making art. It is their belief that they do the most good by concentrating on the empowering qualities of the creative processes and not on the diagnosis or treatment of what is "wrong."

An obvious corollary to the strong artistic orientation of these programs is their commitment to artistic quality. This value system begins with the artists themselves, whose training and artistic accomplishments give lie to the suggestion that fine art and public service don’t mix. The consensus among the artists gathered at the conference was that the high artistic standard they set for their programs was the single most important element leading to their success. They indicated that they would not be doing what they were doing if it required a lowering of standards.

Many of the presenters told of confrontations with institutional staff over the difference between art and recreational activities like "paint by numbers" or aerobics. For some, these instances marked dramatic turning points for their programs. Faced with inadequate supplies or space, these artists invariably balked at any move they felt would compromise the value of their programs. For a few, this meant the end of their project. Many more, though, pointed to their insistence on good work and adequate support as the catalyst that finally got them the respect they needed to maintain their identity and commitment in a sometimes hostile setting.

The need for respect is a two-way street, though. The successful programs described in this book gained cooperation by acknowledging their intruder status and by learning the ropes before insinuating themselves into an institution’s established routine. Geese Theater’s John Bergman put it simply: "In a lot of these places things are pretty bad. Nobody is going to let you do your thing if they think you are going to mess up and make it worse. Know where you are before you go thrashing about." Each of these programs had a lot to prove before they were allowed to "go thrashing about." They proved it by going to school before they began to teach.

When these artists allowed themselves to become students of an unfamiliar culture, they made the unlikely partnership between the arts and the institution possible. Partnership is the operant word here. Nobody does anything by themselves in an institutional or community setting. Giving and gaining respect makes it possible to build the relationships required to operate effectively in these places.

Other features found on the common ground occupied by artists working in other places are less obvious but no less important. One is that the field, except in the area of prison work, seems to be dominated by women. Of the 25 programs presented in this book, 17 were established by women. Some point out that this trend follows already existing patterns established in the helping professions in general. Others add that women are more likely to choose an alternative arts profession because they find it easier to reject the notion that artistic success is measured solely in dollars and fame. It is interesting to note that many of the artists, of both sexes, who have been attracted to community and institutional work feel their artwork and their professional status has improved as a result.

Another common thread is that many of these artists trace their activist roots to the social and political upheavals of the 1960s. More often than not, a parallel impetus for their involvement came in the form of funding provided by the Comprehensive Employment and Training Acts (CETA) of 1974 through 1983. At its peak of activity in 1979, CETA directed over $300,000,000 to artists performing public service in hundreds of communities across the country. Patients, prisoners, and community members in distress offered an opportunity for artists to respond to a crying need and to be appreciated. Their response, and the successful programs that followed, challenged conventional wisdom about the value of the creative processes–a value that could be as relevant to those concerned with survival as with aesthetics.

This was especially true in California, where thousands of artists worked both individually and through community organizations to use the arts as a resource to address local community needs. One lasting legacy of this extraordinary burst of artistic activism was the California Arts Council’s Artists in Social Institutions and Artists in Communities programs (now called the Artists with Special Constituencies program).

Prison arts programs were given a similar impetus nationwide when the Law Enforcement Assistance Administration and the National Endowment for the Arts combined efforts in 1977 to support the placement of artists in 54 state and federal penal facilities. As you will gather from this book, California- and prison-based programs have clearly benefited as a result of this attention. Without a doubt they are the healthier segments of the field. This and other evidence make a strong case for concluding that public support is essential for programs of this sort to develop. The record also demonstrates that once that support is forthcoming, artists in significant numbers will commit to this work, and that, despite the odds, many of the resulting programs will survive based upon their merits.

THE MESSAGE

Despite an extraordinary record of success, programs operating in nonconventional settings have gained very little recognition beyond their local constituencies. Unfortunately, in few instances have proper documentation and a capable advocacy strategy come together to make a strong case for support. Yet, as the evidence mounts that traditional approaches to our societal problems are failing, educators and social service providers have begun to look elsewhere for innovative ideas. As this book makes clear, the variety of conditions that artists in nonacademic settings have adapted to, and succeeded in, has generated new technology for problem solving, communicating, building self-esteem, and much more.

The evidence notwithstanding, this message will have a very difficult time being accepted, particularly among those professionals in the trenches, who need to hear it the most. The idea that the power of the creative processes extends beyond the aesthetic realm clearly runs counter to the popular American definition of art and culture. It will be up to artists and their institutional and community partners to convince those in the mainstream that it is in their self-interest to consider the contributions that can be made by the arts. It is our hope that the writing and publishing of this book will be one small step in that direction.