Tag Archives: veronicachavez
The Creative Center: A Home Away From Home
New Yorkers are known for being independent people. Those who are native to Manhattan strut with purpose and brim with pride in their respective nooks. For those coming from elsewhere, the first few months on the metropolis are very similar: hometown ties are cut, needy exteriors are quickly shed, and slowly enough, self-sufficiency becomes a learned art. In a city with some of the brightest lights, biggest opportunities, and longest life expectancies, it’s easy to believe yourself invincible. That is unless you’re diagnosed with a terminal illness that reminds you on a daily basis that you’re not. Suddenly bright lights equate to hospital fluorescents, your biggest opportunity is recovery, and loneliness is an unavoidable reality. When New York suddenly turns into the coldest place imaginable, where can an independent New Yorker turn? For many, the answer lies in The Creative Center.
The Creative Center is a non-profit organization that specializes in “creative aging,” the concept that where there is artistic self-expression, there are health benefits. The center has brought art to those with chronic illnesses such as cancer or AIDS, since 1994. “We wanted to give those with cancer a home,” said Robin Glazer, director and co-founder of the Creative Center. What began as a series of workshops for women with cancer has blossomed into a program for those of all ages, genders, and stages of treatment. The Creative Center now has daily workshops, artists-in-residence hospital programs, an online gallery, and a training program that works to bring their philosophy and proven approach to arts to hospitals around the country.
As a cancer survivor herself, Glazer knew the painful process that inevitably follows cancer diagnosis. She wanted to create a haven away from the drabness of hospitals and the painful reality of treatment, a place where self-expression was not only encouraged but expanded on and improved. “I didn’t want it to just be ‘arts and crafts for sick people’, I wanted people to improve and become proud of their art,” Glazer said. With this idea in mind, Glazer constructed a program with a school-like structure. Students can take two workshops per semester, with a year at the center consisting of three semesters in total. Some of the courses available include creative writing, watercolor painting, knitting, as well as courses in ceramic and jewelry making. Classes are available to those who have had a diagnosis, are in treatment, or have recovered from a terminal illness. While these workshops do not get students actual credit, they do get the invaluable experience of creating as they recover in a non-judgmental and non-competitive environment. Best of all, the workshops are free-of-charge.
With funding from multiple organizations, The Creative Center also offers programs to hospitals at little to no cost. With guidance from the center, artists are trained to work closely with patients that unfortunately are bedridden due to their illness. Equipped with paints, beads, yarn and a plethora of other crafty things, artists-in-residence spend hours with patients who might have otherwise been alone. “The artists-in-residence program not only provides art for these patients, but friendship, and friendship is exactly what these guys need,” Glazer explained. The program has garnered such positive responses from hospitals and patients alike, that the center now offers training to senior centers and nursing home administrators. Positive responses have also led more organizations to hop on the center’s bandwagon. Such organizations include: Livestrong, National Endowment for the Arts, The Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, and NYC Department of Cultural Affairs.
The Creative Center’s most important partner however, is University Settlement, a social program that has actually absorbed The Creative Center this past year. University Settlement’s ideology is deeply rooted in the idea that low-income families deserve basic services at an affordable price to enable them a chance at the American Dream so proudly advertised by this country. With such similar goals, the merger is hardly a surprise. In fact, Glazer had dreamt of the day that such a program would back the center. “I was nervous for a long while of what might happen to the center if I should die,” Glazer shared, “After all, it was only three of us coordinators running the entire program. Once we got absorbed, I was ecstastic. University Settlement has secured a place for The Creative Center in the future.”
Katherine Vaz
Katherine Vaz is a true inspiration. She’s been surrounded by death and war from a very young age and instead of turning away from her pain, she has utilized her experiences to write some magnificent pieces. Vaz’s works brim with dark emotion, intriguing plots and most importantly, authenticity. She is the embodiment of the idea that through tragedy, one can create art. In fact, Vaz believes that most of her stories show the different ways in which people find happiness despite the pain they may endure.
In her writing, Katherine Vaz does not merely report on her experiences but uses them as a base or as I thought of it, “a springboard” for fiction that goes beyond her reality. This is a skill I would like to improve on myself, as I often find it challenging to detach myself from the truth when drawing upon my own experiences to write fiction. Vaz explains that it is not about what she shares about herself, or what happened to her specifically, but more about the idea that she wants to share with the world, the emotion that has built up inside of her that she wants to release for others to connect with. In her story “Taking a Stitch in a Dead Man’s Arm,” it is clear that Vaz drew from some of her own experiences with death, fear and religion when creating the Isabel character, and yet I didn’t dwell on this fact while reading it. What caught my attention more was the idea, the process of overcoming fear, which is essentially what Vaz wants the reader to focus on.
Hearing Vaz speak about how she came to be a writer also inspired me very much. I feel a writing persona within me as well. It is part of me in the same way 12-year-old Vaz realized it was a part of her. Once she had this realization, Vaz began practicing. She gave herself prompts, played around with ideas, and even took other people’s writing and began to deconstruct it in an effort to further her understanding of the structure and how she could improve her own. Considering the persistence and determination Vaz exhibited in honing her craft, it is no surprise that she is an acclaimed writer. I, myself, have only recently begun to truly exercise my writing muscles. I have always had a facility with language and writing which has caused me to rest upon that skill and regard it as my comfort zone. After hearing how Vaz pushed herself to improve her writing however, I feel motivated to do the same.
Protected: Quiz – Veronica Chavez
Protected: Amanda Burden Post
Protected: Response to “Deadly Choices at Memorial”
Con Artist: Connected Artists with a Connected Vision
Two years ago, the ambiguity of Lower East Side’s “Con Artist” left entering passersby a bit confused. Vintage clothes hung all about the room, records filled the corners, and a funky array of trinkets were scattered upon every flat surface. The place seemed to be solely defined as a store. And yet, just past this eyeful, artists filtered in and out on a daily basis as they worked, collaborated and displayed their art in the space’s back room. Brian Shevlin, owner and founder of Con Artist, was not okay with this disconnection. “The store was taking away from our vision,” Shevlin said, “A lot of people just thought we were a thrift store, but we’re more about our artists’ collective. Our concept has always been to create, build and prosper and that just wasn’t getting communicated.”
After much revamping, Con Artist has finally molded into its intended form: an artist workshop and gallery. The workshop is any young artist’s dream. With plenty of supplies, space, storage, 24/7 access, and most importantly variety, Con Artist has virtually all the tools a budding artist needs to hone their craft and explore others, or as Shevlin put it, “play around.”
While the idea of a space where artists can gather and work on their craft within a community is not exactly a new one, Con Artist definitely has its unique perks. For one, the space is not dedicated solely to one type of art medium, such as pottery, or printmaking. The range of tools and equipment available to members of the collective is expansive and virtually all-inclusive. “When you’re a creative person you’re not usually like ‘Oh I only like to paint and I hate doing anything else creative.’ It’s usually just one of the many things you do,” Shevlin explained. In addition to providing tools and space, Con Artist provides a business aspect to the operation, one that apparently is often overlooked by other similar locales. At Con Artist, members of the collective are given opportunities to gain something back from their creative process besides their pieces. Frequent gallery showings and participation in artisan fleas allow guests to purchase art as well as any other miscellaneous objects the artist wishes to sell. Essentially this is the “prosper” of the “create, build, and prosper” idea, and with Con Artist’s small commission of 20% for each sale, it seems like a generous one.
Shevlin’s vision of an affordable artist space and business model stemmed from his own frustrations as an art student. “Basically art is a constant expense until you’ve made it,” he said. Over the years, he came to realize that in order to make ends meet, he (and other young artists in general) usually had to work in a completely different field to make extra money, something he felt unfairly detracted from an artist’s creative focus. With this reality in mind, Shevlin set the price for monthly use of the workshop at a generously low price of 180 dollars per month, the collective membership price at fifty dollars, and storage price ranging from twenty to forty dollars per use. Most other art spaces charge upwards of three to four hundred dollars in total for such amenities.
Even in a struggling economy however, Con Artist’s price is hardly their only allure. Their growing group of seventy gains much more than money, they gain an incomparable atmosphere of mutual respect and non-stop inspiration. Even with the constant ebb and flow of people, it’s evident that problems between members are minimal. Managerial duties pertain more to the intricacies of event planning and smooth processing than to crowd control or scuffles between members. In fact, even those who are not active within the workshop anymore, still pay the collective membership price to stay connected to their fellow artistic peers. How does such a large group of creative people with a variety of different tastes work so harmoniously you might ask? Shevlin attributes the harmony directly to the ambience. “In a shared space such as our workshop, everyone is exposed. It’s like being naked on a stage. No one’s got anything to lose.”
Liebling Commentary
A.J Liebling is brutally honest, yet not malicious. He exposes the silliness of humans without laughing, the dirt without comment, and their aura without distortion. I find his writing refreshing. There is so much repressed judgement in journalism today, and as much as some writers believe they can successfully mask their opinions, many cannot. With Liebling’s writing, I cannot detect suppression. Instead, Liebling allows the people in his stories to reveal their own character through speech and description.
My favorite story was “Getting By.” Liebling’s description of the professional faster and the professional eater were brilliant. Here you can see how Liebling reveals their character, merely by quoting them and through seemingly objective statements, with just enough sarcasm in the undertone. For example, on page 102 Liebling includes a short description of Mr. Di Laurentis (the professional eater) followed by quote on how he bent dimes with his teeth:
“Mr. Di Laurentis was square shouldered and blocky, but not overly fat. He stood five feet eight inches, weighed 180 pounds, and was thirty-seven years old. His black hair was pomaded and he wore a wrist watch on a gold link bracelet. His jaw was broad at the base and he bent dimes with his teeth. “Don’t tell anybody I do this,” he said, as he demonstrated on Billy the Oysterman’s favorite ten-cent piece, a family heirloom.” It seems somebody had once told Mr. Di Laurentis it was against the law.”
At no point does Liebling comment on Di Laurentis’ blatant stupidity. And yet, the reader cannot help but pick up on it. That’s good journalism.
Neighborhood Faces: Clayton Patterson
Sporting a bright red zip-up and his signature skull cap, Clayton Patterson arrives at 161 Essex Street and leads the way into his gallery, the extensive archives that have made Patterson one of the most reputable folk historians of the Lower East Side. He has spent close to forty years now documenting the life and culture of the area through photography, film, and art. Even at 63 years old, it’s clear that he has no intentions of slowing down.
“A lot of it is built in your own intensity,” Patterson said, “ whether you have the love and dedication and ambition…because if you do that’s a disease…but it’s a good disease to have.”
Clayton Patterson is not a native of New York City but he is most certainly a figure of it. A proud city dweller, Patterson is extremely passionate about his work. The intimacy he feels with the Lower East Side is palpable. So while he may have not spent his adolescent days hanging out on city stoops, he has plenty of pictures of kids who have. He may have not grown up with the American government, but he cares about the fact that they’re cutting art programs in schools, and he has made documentaries exposing police brutality. Patterson believes the key to establishing a name for oneself is to develop something unique and to believe in its potential so wholeheartedly, that others believe in it too. So although Patterson spent the first thirty years of his life in a town he described as “primitive” and “isolated,” his philosophy is hardly reflective of the fact.
“A big part of ‘making it’ is creating an illusion,” Patterson said, “I mean, you want your illusion built on facts and reality but, you have to create an illusion…if you can’t create an illusion of how great it is…you’ve got nothing.”
Patterson touches briefly upon the topic of Occupy Wall Street, as well as Romney’s recent “47%” comment. Lines begin to appear on his forehead. “I hope the youth of today doesn’t lose sight of the advantages they have…when I was a kid growing up it used to be like NBC, CBS…they were far away, they were castles in the sky, impenetrable institutions…now with the new technology, everything is much closer.”
As someone who spent his first years in the U.S without a green card, and a more-than-limited budget, its clear that Patterson relates to the struggles youth are dealing with today. And the illusion idea was one he became familiar with. He had to build his reputation from scratch despite having already built one back in his hometown of Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Back home, Patterson was a fine art print maker, well-known for his skills. He also taught courses at several schools, including the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design University. Patterson was comfortable in Canada, but unfulfilled. He wanted more. At NSCAD, Patterson got a taste of New York through the artists who visited from Manhattan. Patterson was intrigued but it was not until he visited New York for a weekend on a school-funded trip that he decided to move.
“Coming here for the weekend you kind of had that feeling,” Patterson recalls, “at that time the Bowery was down and dirty… but it sort of gave you the point of view that you too could be here…welcoming, not too intimidating…enough to let you know that it wasn’t all just paved with gold or whatever.”
Despite being lured by the welcoming atmosphere of the Lower East Side, Patterson’s first gallery exhibits were in Soho, with a crowd he quickly grew tired. At the risk of losing money and stability, Patterson began to focus on the Lower East Side. To display his work, Patterson bought a building that was once a sewing factory and converted the space into two parts: a small storefront for his custom baseball caps, the other an art gallery. The gallery looks like something out of an I Spy book. Paintings, photos, books, stickers, dvds and posters flood the room with color and imagery. While the stimuli would surely prove overwhelming to some, it does not seem to faze Patterson. Upon entering the room he pulls two chairs from the clutter effortlessly. After extending an inviting palm towards one, he sits in the other and looks around the room the way people do when they realize someone is looking at their work for the first time.
“It’s all about doing what inspires you and makes you happy…” Patterson said, “That’s heaven.”
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