Inside the Spin-Mosaic Studio

My little spectrum art-guitar came with me to paint circles with 600 grieving children, faculty and staff after an unthinkable tragedy. My daughters came with me to assist and lead workshops. My oldest, Heidi, speaks Spanish and became invaluable towards connecting with some in their own language. Morgan lead color blending and circle painting workshops by my side.

Brandon was in 1st grade at the time; the same age as the two sweet twin blonde little boys that lost their lives along with their older sister when a truck failed to stop at a bus crossing. 3 siblings. Rochester, Indiana.

I cannot even write this post without tears coming to my eyes. Know that I do not write these words believing to be an expert; just a witness of the power of art in the process of healing. Especially when it comes to children.

You may have heard. My daughter is bilingual. She speaks English and Spanish fluently.

"Bilingual": knowing and speaking 2 languages. She can talk in Spanish to others who speak Spanish, and she is understood by them. Others talk to her in Spanish, and they are understood by her; a mutual exchange of communication and connection.

I am bilingual, too, in a different way. Creative people are. Kids are. I speak English and Art. Art is a visual language of its own. No one speaks it better than children. As infamous historic artist, Picasso, once said,

"All children are born artists.

The problem is how to remain an artist when we grow up." 

Children are born with an affinity to color, shape, form, and shadows. When we teach and when we interact with children, sometimes we forget that they are still in the learning stages of becoming bilingual. They are more comfortable with lines, shapes, colors, and abstraction than we are.

A child's 1st language of speech is their 2nd language of heart.

The visual and sensory "languages" come first by instinct.

A very young child can differentiate his mother's voice and his mother's face. Eyes are tuned to light, colors, and contrast and are drawn to circular shapes and contrasts as an ingrained default. A child perceives his world with senses of vision and touch first. Spoken language, second.

Backpeddle to October, 2018. The tragedy made and is still making national news. I just saw another update yesterday on new bus safety policies. This happened just 30 minutes from my house.

A week after the accident, in communication with the amazing school principal, my daughter's and I arrived at the school with boxes of paint and a little spectrum guitar to present a therapuetic Art Program. Each child contributed color-blended painted circles to a beautiful 17-foot Artwall Memorial through workshops with each class schoolwide.

Are there any right words to say at a time like this? I prayed God would show me the words to say. As it turned out, this little guitar began speaking for me. The children in unison were drawn to the little guitar and asked question. They wanted to hold it; touch it. I soon realized I didn’t have to state the obvious about the tragedy and our feelings. I just needed to share the story of this little guitar. It went something like this:

“Who would like to hold my guitar while I talk?” (Crazy raising of hands). I spoke slowly with a smile.

“This guitar was given to me by one of my students. I never heard it play music. It broke before he gave it to me. My student was special to me, and this guitar was special to him. It was his first guitar. 

This guitar broke when he was really young. It wasn't able to play long enough to play really good or difficult songs before it became broken. But, I could tell it was a really sweet little guitar and would have played really amazing music if it had the chance.

By time it was given to me, it was broken, painted black, cracked, and the strings were snapped. It was a mess. It seemed like a very sad little guitar. My student was sad too, because this guitar was like his friend. And, now his friend was broken. 

There was nothing I could do to fix the guitar. It was too broken. But, I am an artist. I can make things beautiful.

So, I painted pretty circles, cut them into different shapes and covered the black. Now, when I look at the guitar, the colors remind me of the beautiful music it used to play. When I look at this guitar, I feel happy because it's beautiful; not sad because it's broken."

Again, I was only a witness. It was as if the colors of this little guitar leaped off it's broken surface, swirled around the room and hugged every child. They began painting circles with smiles. They "got it". The little guitar spoke for me. Blending colors together spoke. The act of creating something beautiful together, began the healing.

My demonstration painting color-blended concentric circles on a potter's wheel looked like this:

The children's color blending circles: motion, color, beauty.

Classrooms of circles were used to create the 17-foot Memoral Artwall:
"Let's make something beautiful together!"

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