Reflecting Back...

As this is to be my last blog entry, I thought I'd take a minute to look back on my volunteering experiences--not just at Passion Works, but also at the Hickory Creek nursing home and Appalachian Behavioral Healthcare.

One thing I have noticed that's common with all three of these places is that the people within them tend to be more at ease than most, despite the increased hardship that may come from their situations. It's very peculiar. For example, one time a patient in ABH dictated me a letter to his wife, with whom he hadn't spoken in months. The letter was simple and unsentimental, beseeching the wife to please call or visit. I remember thinking how if I were in his place, I would probably break down blubbering in the middle of it.

I remember, in the nursing home, seeing a man who didn't speak and needed my full assistance to play Bingo. His only form of communication, really, was smiling when the orderly would poke fun at him. And of course, it was never fake, like many of mine are in similar situations. How anyone, faced with such mental and physical decline, such debilitating disability, could find joy in the smallest of things, befuddles and yet inspires me.

Then there's Noah. I posted a video of Noah Hogan earlier explaining the fossils in his drawing. Noah uses a walker; he has to ask me to scoot him over so I can hold a picture for him to color. Or Paul. Paul's on a respirator and can barely project his voice. Or there's Jason Licht, who draws birds because he wishes to have such freedom of movement, as he's confined to a wheelchair. All of these artists at Passion Works come in at 8:00 every Friday (like the crack of dawn for me) to work and laugh and share stories, caring not about whatever conditions burden their life. In light of this, I think the label "disabled" is misleading: these people have proved to be the most able I have ever met.

As soon as I can, I'll be adding a podcast about the collages artists were making on my final day of volunteering (among other things) to this post. Stay tuned!

EDIT: Here's the podcast.

Good Works

This week I turned my sights to Good Works, a Christian nonprofit. From the site:

Good Works, Inc is a COMMUNITY OF HOPE for those struggling with poverty in rural Appalachia. We provide biblical hospitality through The Timothy House (our shelter for the rural homeless), The Hannah House (our long term residential care-community), job experience programs, creative volunteer service opportunities and community development ministries in the context of Christian Community.

Of particular interest is the org's founder, Keith Wasserman, who apparently converted to Jewish Christianity in his junior year of high school and used and sold drugs from eighth grade to 12th. In his senior year at Ohio University, circa 1980, he opened a homeless shelter out of the basement of his house.

Keith has chosen to be homeless eight different times over the last 15 years, in seven different cities, including my hometown, Akron, Ohio. He writes that he does this partly to have his "compassion renewed." In
Keith poses before a Good Works sign.

Lexington, Kentucky, he slept next to a man who had threatened someone with a knife earlier in the day. And in Charleston, West Virginia, after being rejected by the police and shelter staff for not having proper ID, he found an unlikely friend in a pimp.

"I learned how to listen to the voices from the streets," Keith writes, "the voices of men and women who are survivors in a world in which they see little opportunity."

Keith's organization goes farther than most other Christian ones in that conversion and assimilation into the church community are its primary goals, besides providing food and shelter. From the site:

As we move along the continuum of success toward the other end, we discover it is not enough to provide another human being with food, shelter, jobs, housing, friendship, counseling or help. It is not enough that we invite them into our Christian community and they come. It is not enough that they become a Christian themselves. We have not achieved success until they become a participating and functioning member in a local Christian Community.

 Volunteers prepare to sing a hymn.

In this way, Good Works resembles Alcoholics Anonymous in its marriage of recovery mixed with dependence on a "higher power"--though with the former, the higher power is a little more defined. It raises an interesting question: do the people they help feel as if they have a duty to reciprocate by participating in the Christian community? Could this be a conduit for false religiosity, or is it likely to make the helped believe more? Let me know what you think.

CORRECTION: Keith Wasserman only sold/used drugs from the eighth grade 'til eleventh, not twelfth. This coincided with his conversion to Christianity.

Walk the Walk Raises Awareness of Mental Health Issues

Yesterday I participated in the 2009 Walk the Walk for mental health awareness and support, sponsored by NAMI Athens and The Gathering Place. It was exhausting, to say the least. There were two routes, long and short, both leading to Appalachian Behavioral Healthcare, the local psychiatric hospital. I took the long one, of course. See below for my route.


View Walk the Walk route in a larger map

The walk began as a rally in front of the Athens courthouse at 10:00 a.m., where speakers such as Rep. Debbie Phillips, State Senator Jimmy Stewart, and Mayor Paul Wiehl talked about the plight of mental health reform in Ohio. Phillips mentioned that while we're facing a budget shortfall, people are fighting for mental health issues in the House.

What was of particular interest, though, was something Stewart brought up. In the time since March, he said, funds for alcohol and drug abuse as well as mental health items have been cut more than anything else. We used to be one of the best states in this area, according to NAMI. As a result, Stewart said, many mentally ill are ending up in prison because the system doesn't have the resources to assist them.

In the past Stewart helped push a bill through the Ohio House and Senate that would enable behavioral health boards to allocate more funds to non-Medicaid programs. Unfortunately, Governor Strickland vetoed this bill.

After the speakers spoke, a band made up mostly of music therapy students played as participants assembled on the courthouse steps to pose for a group picture before embarking on the road ahead. The first stop: The Gathering Place. Walkers went through the building, collecting snacks and pamphlets along the way and brandishing signs about mental health awareness.

The long walk encompassed the Ridges and its surrounding nature walk through some woods. Parts of it reminded me of Y tu mama tambien, a movie in which the characters pass roadside graves while driving to some unknown destination--a tinge of the tragic underlying every experience, even the most life-affirming ones. We passed two graveyards and a memorial bench that struck me particularly--a man who was born in 1980 and died this year, who loved chess. "So long, and thanks for all the fish," the memorial read, quoting Douglas Adams' opus The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

I interviewed the acquaintances I made over the course of the walk. One of them, named Lauren Holz, volunteers at The Gathering Place for her Economics of Poverty class. She said she has the most fun playing Euchre with the clients. Holz' little sister has Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, so she has firsthand experience with mental health issues. She said the OCD's been most severe when Holz is at college, as her sister couldn't control her being there.

Another person with whom I walked was Tim England, whose sister has Attention Deficit Disorder. He said his mom doesn't want to put her on meds because they make her "real down."

Tim Roessler was an interesting fellow. He spoke before the walk, and has been going to The Gathering Place for "six or seven years now," ever since his accident, in which a wall full of freight fell on him, causing one leg to be shorter than the other, among other problems. He became homeless, which brought on a deep depression. TGP helped him, he said: "If you don't have anyplace to go, you get depressed, but if you can mingle, you don't focus on it as much."

Roessler used to be a "world-class athlete"; he said he should have gone pro in baseball and possible football. Instead, he joined the service to fight in Vietnam, and by the time he got back, he was too badly injured to play.

Scott Kreps, the director of TGP, said the Walk was "the best one yet," with about 450 people attending. "It was a great way to start a conversation about mental health and the need for services," he said. When asked about the funds raised, he said "not a huge amount was raise, maybe a couple thousand," and that it was more about awareness about issues and a community event.

"Anytime this many people in the community come together, it shows we do have some human capital here. We have a long way to go, though," he said.

See below for some pictures from the event.

The History of Disability

Volunteering at Passion Works this week, I couldn't think of what to write about. I tried to make up lists of the artists' favorite movies and such, but thought it trivial. After some time reflecting, however, I've decided to examine the history of developmental disability, and disability in general. After breezing through a Wikipedia article, I came to a particularly interesting section:

The segregation of people with developmental disabilities wasn't widely questioned by academics or policy-makers until the 1969 publication of Wolf Wolfensberger's seminal work "The Origin and Nature of Our Institutional Models",^[13] drawing on some of the ideas proposed by SG Howe a hundred years earlier. This book posited that society characterises people with disabilities as deviant, sub-human and burdens of charity, resulting in the adoption of that 'deviant' role. Wolfensberger argued that this dehumanisation, and the segregated institutions that result from it, ignored the potential productive contributions that all people can make to society. He pushed for a shift in policy and practice that recognised the human needs of "retardates" and provided the same basic human rights as for the rest of the population.

The publication of this book may be regarded as the first move towards the widespread adoption of the social model of disability in regard to these types of disabilities, and was the impetus for the development of government strategies for desegregation. Successful lawsuits against governments and an increasing awareness of human rights and self-advocacy also contributed to this process, resulting in the passing in the US of the Civil Rights of Institutionalized Persons Act in 1980.

This change in perception reminded me of one that occurred with homosexuality in the '70s, in which the orientation was removed from the Diagnostic Statistics Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). What I wonder is, why has it taken society so long to recognize that people are people?

See below for a timeline of significant events when it comes to disability.

Disabilities on Dipity.

Source

As you can see, we've come a long way.

The Gathering Place

Yesterday I visited The Gathering Place, a nonprofit for people with mental illness. It was situated atop a high hill on Congress St., in a house with lofted ceilings. As I sat down to interview the director in his modest second-floor office, he excused himself for having to finish an e-mail. The computer was ancient. As we talked, the telephone rang intermittently, and Scott Kreps, the director, picked it up; people came in and out and one of the clients even sat down and said he'd partake in the interview as well. Scott was the only staff person present. He had a lot on his plate.

I asked Scott what services The Gathering Place provides. He replied that the organization provides a "range of mental health services," from crisis support that has people phoning in dealing with harming themselves or being suicidal, to on-site services to do with medication, family, or increased symptoms from illness, as well as therapeutic support. The Place especially emphasizes peer support.

It also provides "an environment," which includes food, support programs (some social), such as creative writing and poetry, stress management and music therapy. Members of the organization vote on its rules and issues, and half of the board of trustees is clients.

The 317 Board funds the majority of TGP's services. They give $118,321 a year--a "really small" amount, according to Scott, considering it's split among three different agencies (one in Logan and another in McArthur, Ohio). Scott gets paid hourly instead of having a salary.

"As the executive of an agency, to be hourly...it's wild," Scott said.

He said he tries to raise money, but "it's an even greater challenge for community mental health. There's a stigma. If it were a center that provided services for Parkinson's, we'd get a check from Michael J. Fox."

Scott's directed the TGP for four years out of its 33-year stay in Athens. He reemphasized that the main problem facing people with mental illness today is stigma, citing an opinion poll in which people believed those with mental illness were 30% more likely to be "dangerous" than they thought 15 years ago.

Mental illness' relative invisibility is also a problem, according to Scott.

Scott, reclining in his office.

"It's a silent crisis," Scott said, comparing mental illness once again with Parkinson's. "Parkinson's is easier to understand. As it's a physical illness, people want it gone, whereas with mental illness you can't see it."

Finally, if there's one thing Scott could change about TGP, it'd be its financial resources.

"We could buy coffee," said one client who had wandered in. That's a good starting point.

Clients gather around a table to eat and converse.

Sheltered Workshops

While volunteering at Passion Works this week, I got to wondering about sheltered workshops in general, of which Passion Works is one. According to Jim Larson of the Morningside blog, organizations like Passion Works are actually more outdated. From his post:

I am reminded of the passage of the Vocational Rehabilitation Act of 1973. It was the impetus for us to move from therapeutic arts and crafts to industrial based sheltered employment in the 1970’s and 1980’s because of the influx of federal money which propelled the growth of facility based services.

From what I found of other sheltered workshops in the area, Morningside's change was consistent with others. Most, if not all, provide contractual services, as opposed to offering original products like works of art. And the fact that Passion Works originated after the 1970's and 80's shift to contractual work but still based itself on art production is befuddling to say the least. One possible explanation is that it doesn't have the budget that other facilities possess, being located in Appalachia, to perform the large-scale operations that contractual work requires.

A quick glance at the map below will show you that Passion Works also has fewer staff relative to other local sheltered workshops. Green tacks indicate low number of staff, yellow medium and red high. Purple tacks indicate that the number of staff is unknown.

Interestingly, all the workshops in a 45-mile radius from Athens, Ohio seemed to cluster in a "V" formation to the north and south, and the next-nearest one besides Passion Works is in Logan. The latter fact shows that there's not many choices for people with developmental disabilities when it comes to employment in Appalachia. It's mostly either work in the community (doing janitorial work most likely) or don't work at all, and that's a sad fact.


View Sheltered Workshops near Athens in a larger map

Jason Licht

Yesterday I got a chance to interview Jason Licht, featured artist at Passion Works for October. Here's what he had to say:

Jason is hard at work. (image from Passion Works)

Jason's favorite thing to draw is his "one weird take" on a flower, seen on one of the birdhouses Passion Works sells.

This flower is one of Jason's personal faves.

"It started as something to do; now it's showing up everywhere," Jason said. On his work in general, he said, "I figure my job is to try to drag Passion Works into the 21st century, instead of the 1960s."

Jason has worked with the studio for seven years now. He remembers the old building, which was a "glorified storage closet"--literally. It was used as a King Midget car factory beforehand. Jason said there were sometimes seven or more artists crammed into the tiny room, and that there wasn't much room to do anything, and the light hardly worked.

Jason has been labeled Passion Works' "resident philosopher." He says he got it because he "comes up with different ways to put stuff that's out of the norm."

About his art, Jason said he "(wants) to be different. I wanna use the normal colors in an abnormal way." Birds commonly show up in his work, as they symbolize freedom of flight for Jason, which is counterposed to his being in a wheelchair.

"The closest thing I got to where the wheelchair didn't matter was when I climbed a wall," Jason said. He used a special harness at Ping and "did pull-ups" to get to the top. "It was so exhilarating; for one fleeting second the wheelchair didn't matter. I wasn't the guy in the wheelchair, I was the guy who made the climbing wall my bitch," Jason said.

In his spare time, Jason enjoys talking on amateur radio. He's been licensed for 19 years, starting in high school. Surprisingly, he doesn't have a handle, yet he's taken three tests to obtain the highest licensed classification--Amateur Extra. He said you can't talk on every frequency right away, per the FCC, which surprised me--I had a CB radio around sixth grade and would even talk on the emergency channel for fun.

Jason has the highest operator privileges.

Jason had this to say about his job: "For anyone considering getting down (to Passion Works), get your ass down here. Art's born in here."

The Ridges

I just wanted to share a page I found on The Ridges, also known once as the Athens Mental Health Center or even the Athens Lunatic Asylum, perhaps the city's most notorious legacy. Here's a quote about the treatments once used in the facility:

1. Water Treatment

Patients were submerged in ice-cold water for extended periods of time. Sometimes they were wrapped in sheets which had been soaked in icewater and restrained.

2. Shock Therapy

Electric shocks were administered to patients submerged in water tanks or, more commonly, directly to the temples by the application of brine-soaked electrodes. A patient held a rubber piece in his mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue off during the convulsions which followed a treatment. (See One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest for a painful example of electroshock therapy.)

3. Lobotomy (Original)

Patients had their skulls opened and their neural passages separated midway through the brain. This difficult and arduous procedure killed many people, but those who survived did in fact forget many of their depressive or psychotic tendencies. They also forgot a lot of other things, like how not to shit down your leg at dinner time, but with such an abundance of patients the only thing most doctors worried about was how to streamline the process. Open-skull brain surgery is a tricky business no matter how you slice it.

4. Lobotomy (Trans-Orbital)

Developed by Dr. Walter J. Freeman in the early 1950s, this simpler lobotomy became something of a craze in mental health circles up through the 60s. Dr. Freeman's method involved knocking the patient unconscious with electric shocks, then rolling an eyelid back and inserting a thin metal icepick-like instrument called a leucotome through a tear duct. A mallet was used to tap the instrument the proper depth into the brain. Next it was sawed back and forth to sever the neural receptors. Sometimes this was done in both eyes. There is some evidence that this method actually helped some people with very severe conditions, but much more often the patient had horrible side effects and in many cases ended up nearly catatonic. It also killed a whole bunch of people, too.

The lobotomy procedure in particular has always fascinated me. One of the conferees at the AVERT Project that I covered earlier mentioned its use even on one of the Kennedys' own: Rosemary Kennedy . I remember the director of activities at Appalachian Behavioral Healthcare, the Ridges' progeny, reminisced about witnessing it being used even up until the '70s. He didn't even seem to bat an eye. I guess attitudes have changed greatly in a small amount of time.

Here are some pictures from the aforementioned Web page of the Ridges.

The main building is vast and stands four stories tall.

The tuberculosis ward of the complex is often broken into or vandalized.

On Volunteering

Putting in my time yesterday got me thinking: my gig at Passion Works is as much about work as it is relating with the artists. And I have to admit, many times the work can get trying. Yesterday, toward the end, I was counting the minutes because the artists weren't in and I had to do a very repetitive task (stamping candy envelopes for Halloween).

The mountain of envelopes taunts me.

I guess I was luckier than the saps the day before though, who had to move a ton of junk down from the attic, scraping their knees along the way. But more to the point: as my friend said, there's value in volunteer work, but is it worth the effort? Perhaps it's my formerly Catholic masochism speaking, but I think so.

No, the work I do is no match for having good conversations with artists, but in a way it certainly benefits them. The outlining I did for passion flowers will go toward potential sales of those items someday; the stamping of those envelopes--while not really benefiting the artists--will bring some joy to a wee trick-or-treater come Monday. It's important to keep this in perspective, or you lose sight of the fact that whatever you do matters.

I'm agnostic, leaning on atheist, yet I go to plenty of church meals throughout the week and partake in plenty of before-meal prayers, because I do identify with one feature of organized religion: service. Sometimes I marvel at Judith Svendsem, the woman who volunteers at UCM's Thursday Supper and the Church of Christ's dinner and probably countless other venues. And she's getting on in years, to top it off. I guess some people get the concept of indirect service, of not seeing the returns of one's actions but trusting that they're there. It comes easier for them than it does for me, that's for sure. And for that they ought to be thankful.

See below for some pictures of the many things people were busying themselves with at the 'Works:

The AVERT Project

Today, just in time for National Disability Employment Awareness Month, I attended a conference for employees of shelters on how to handle the people they serve--most notably people with disabilities. It was called "The AVERT Project," and was held at the local 317 Board, right next to the Dairy Barn.

The 317 Board is a modest brick building.

I was lured to the conference by Kate, the director of a battered women's shelter nearby called My Sister's Place. Peg Calvey oversaw the conference, a woman with a disability herself (retinal) who drove all the way from Genesis House in Lorain, Ohio.

Peg gives a big 'ole grin.

First off, Peg cited the American Disabilities Act's definition of "disability" as any significant impairment that limits an activity of daily living. Surprisingly, because of this definition, people no longer use assessments like IQ tests to determine whether a person has a developmental disability; instead, they inspect whether that person can't do three or more ADLs, or Activities of Daily Living, such as bathing or food preparation.

Developmental disability apparently is not synonymous with mental retardation, as I was surprised to find out. Autistic people, Aspergians or even people with learning disabilities can be developmentally disabled. Also, I learned what Joyce, the director of Passion Works, meant by "person-first" language: there is no "developmentally disabled person"; rather, it's "person with a developmental disability."

Peg revealed some jarring facts about the disabled and battered women. In the 1940s, for example, there was a movement to euthanize babies with disabilities. People with disabilities are two to three times more at risk for abuse. Most disturbing were the next two facts, though: 85% of women with disabilities are abused at least once, and 90% of women with developmental disabilities are sexually abused at least once. Ninety percent. In addition, over half are sexually abused at least 10 times.

The sad fact, which I didn't realize, is that 85% of women in shelters have a disability, over half as a result of abuse. Every time a woman is hit on the head, the probability goes up that she will be hit again.

To finish out the conference, Peg discussed deaf and blind battered women. I was surprised to find out that only 10% of blind people can read braille. As a result, all 27 pages of paperwork at My Sister's Place have to be aired via tape. Deaf women apparently are unlikely to come to shelters, as they often feel uncomfortable telling personal matters to interpreters and there's not much accessibility in general. Hell, the closest legal interpreter (someone could be used for a court case) around is in Columbus. It's a sad state indeed, but thankfully conferences like these help to make things better through informing shelter workers about what they can do.

Working with the Artists

On Friday I rose at 7:00 a.m. (!) in order to volunteer at Passion Works from 8:00 to 10:00, as that was the only window in which I could catch the actual artists at work. Though it was rough getting up, I'm glad I did. I met many interesting people, including Cassie Blackford, nickname "Winnie the Pooh." Cassie is 23 years old and her favorite color is black, which I found intriguing. She has a nine-month-old girl named Hannah Mae.

"Whatcha gonna do (this weekend), walk all over the table?" Wade Buock, another artist, asked Cassie. Cassie lives in Chauncey and since there's "not a lot to do" there, she "walks around all the time." During my scheduled block at the organization, Cassie drew and also painted a birdhouse, pictured below:

Cassie's birdhouse is colorful and cheery.

By far the person who most piqued my interest, however, was Noah. Humble and smart, with a keen sense of humor, Noah said of his own painting, "This doesn't look like a wild animal, it looks like grape juice."

"I want to look like Zac (Efron)," Noah said, "but I bet he doesn't have a duck--un pato." Noah prides himself on wearing his hair in the style of the "High School Musical" star and sporting a charming plastic bubble container in the shape of a duck around his neck. Also evident is his love for Spanish--he'll give translations for anything, anytime--as well as Latin. Noah's nickname is Noey, "like Joey," and he also happens to be an insatiable flirt, asking women browsers if he'll get to see them again.

As Noah wiped a spot of pink from the background of his painting, he said, "No mistakes in art. Only happy accidents." Truer words. See below for a video where Noah explains the flora and fauna in his painting.

UCM's Community Feast

For those of you who've seen "Fight Club," you'll likely remember that the main character loved attending group therapies, saying they made him feel more alive. I may not attend free meals for the same reason, but boy, do I attend a lot of them. I interviewed a couple people at one particular meal, Thursday Supper, held at United Campus Ministries on College St. How does this pertain to the blog? you may be asking. Well, besides serving cheap college students like me, UCM caters its meal toward those in need.

Here's what got me caught:

First off, I interviewed a senior volunteer by the name of Essam Mikhail. Mikhail said the meal has been going on for 16 years now; he was involved in its early stages and only just recently came back to help. The meal is funded with money from the Student Activities Commission and donations from the community.

"We're perpetually short," Mikhail said, "but we do our best."

How short? According to the director of the operation, Lauren Reilly, a senior at Ohio University, UCM gets a mere $40 a week to cover Thursday Supper, and $25 to cover Saturday Lunch. Yet they manage to serve at least 20 people each Thursday. Indeed, the one change Mikhail would make to the program is to get a more "secure" funding source.

When asked why he chooses to volunteer, Mikhail jokingly replied, "Because I have no life." He added," I enjoy volunteering. I've been volunteering most of my adult life. And this is so much in demand."

Judith Svendsem, another volunteer, said she worked at the Supper because "it gives (her) a sense of satisfaction. For one thing, you meet a lot of people." She emphasized one thing, though, which I found interesting: "It's not about poverty. It's a community meal."

Here's Mikhail and Svendsem enjoying their meal:

I also interviewed Reilly a bit more in-depth. She's been directing the Supper for only six weeks--just this quarter. She said she does it partly because it's an internship for her major, social work, and partly because she likes the communal atmosphere, the values UCM has, and the enjoyment she gets from it. In the future, she wants to make the meal more community-oriented. "Many students come and eat, and feel bad if they're not volunteering; it shouldn't be that way," she said.

In terms of preparation, Reilly plans meals on Tuesdays, shops Thursdays, and starts cooking at 4:00 (the meal starts at 5:30). She's usually done around 7:30.

Reilly estimates that around 10 percent of the people who eat Thursday Dinner are students, another 10 percent "regulars," and the rest those who "really need it."

"The majority of the people need the food," she said.

According to one regular patron, one person at the dinner that night actually "lives in the woods" and goes to Good Works regularly.

Here's pictures of Reilly and the general lay of the land:


Until next time!

First Day on the Job

Well, my first day volunteering at Passion Works took an unexpected turn: none of the artists was there! Apparently, on most days they only work from 8 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. In lieu of conversations with them, I talked with an artist in residence at the nonprofit, Christine Miles.

Christine, with many works of passion

I first asked Christine how she got into working with Passion Works. She said she has a background in fine arts, and taught in special needs for Athens schools 32 years. Many of the artists she works with were in her preschool class more than 20 years earlier.

"It's really exciting to see them excelling," she said.

Miles has been living in Athens since 1968, and after she retired from the city schools, this seemed like a "perfect fit.

Miles' favorite part of her job is working with the artists: "It's just a thrill to see people come in on a daily basis ready to produce," she said. "I think we all have disabilities, it's just that some are less obvious than others."

Miles noted that the artists are "very honest and not ego driven."

"It's a lesson in appreciating art for the process rather than the judged product," she said.

Miles' most prized piece from Passion Works is one by Bill Dooley, a "really mystical"work called "The Creation." As far as her own work, she's most proud of the days artists think they're getting something out of her.

I asked Miles if she thought any of the artists looked up to her. She hesitated, saying "it's kind of a peer process. I don't want it to be a hierarchical thing. I hope they see me as someone they're comfortable with and who responds to them."

She went on to describe the plight of most of the artists: "Many artists are struggling with significant physical disabilities, some degenerative; and some have so much psychological stuff to deal with that they can produce more some days than on others. I want people to feel comfortable no matter how much they can produce."

Besides working for Passion Works five days a week, Christine also "rehabs" squirrels as a pastime, nourishing baby ones until they're ready to be let back into the wild.

---

More on the topic of the developmentally disabled in the workforce, while scrounging I found this article detailing nonprofits' fights to get them employed in California. From the article:

Nonprofit groups helping the developmentally disabled are seeing about 800 new clients annually, according to the California Rehabilitation Association in Sacramento, a lobbying group.

Thankfully, these organizations seem to be making long strides.

On a last note, I'd like to leave you with the video that I watched for my Passion Works orientation. It'll give you a good idea of what the whole wazoo's about. Cheers!

Passion Works on Display

Here are a few first impressions from Passion Works.



Also, though I mentioned an interview would be in this post, I've pushed that back to Thursdays. My apologies for the inconvenience.

On Friday I had orientation for Passion Works. It went swimmingly; the director acted warmly and the artists I saw seemed enthusiastic. I only had two slight hang-ups. One--I'm definitely no artist. Volunteers are expected to assist with drawing and painting, as well as many other motor-intensive tasks at which I claim absolutely no aptitude. But alas, it's a learning opportunity. Two, the director told me to write strictly "positive" things about the artists.

At first, I balked at this command. How could I keep things "real" if I wrote on a sunny, superficial level the whole time? After a few minutes, however, I reconsidered: by "positive," I don't think she meant to gloss over the artists' shortcomings. She simply wants me to write respectfully, compassionately. Of course I'm not going to dwell on the fact that these artists have disabilities; that would be redundant.

To use her words, I'm going to write from a "people first" perspective, conveying the stories of artists who happen be disabled, and not disabled people who happen to be artists. By the same token, that doesn't mean I'll avoid the fact of disability. It's just going to be a secondary consideration.

I took pictures of various fixtures on display, but unfortunately, due to technical issues, I'll have to wait 'til tomorrow to post them.

On another note, while researching poverty in Athens, I turned up an interesting statistic. As of 2007, 65% of people in Athens earned income below the poverty level, and 41% of residents earned income below 50% of the poverty level--a discomfiting fact to say the least.

More on that, stay tuned for the next post (after I post the slideshow), where I interview a local church about their free lunch program.

Intro Redux

Howdy! For those who followed my last blog, this might inspire a bit of deja vu. For the unacquainted, I'll recap quickly: I was supposed to write a blog about my experiences volunteering at a nursing home, and about nursing homes in general. That didn't work out, as the administrators denied my request to write about the residents.

Now I'm volunteering somewhere else--Passion Works, an art shop that employs developmentally disabled people. With this blog I hope to broaden my scope a bit--I want to discuss the plight of the disadvantaged in general, including those with mental illness, in poverty, developmentally disabled or otherwise. The crux of the blog will still be about my experience volunteering, however: I want to write the stories of the people whom I help, as I don't think the media affords them much coverage.

More to the point, I think people often skirt or gloss over the issue of developmental disability because they are afraid of how to handle it--specifically, they're afraid of hurting someone's feelings. With this blog, I'm trying to, if you pardon the pun, paint a realistic picture of these people's reality, so that readers may perhaps understand their plight more fully.

That said, I look forward to starting volunteering next week. I'll leave you with a link to a recent story in The Post that mentioned the Athens Photographic Project, an initiative sponsored by NAMI, the National Alliance for Mental Health, that setup a photography class for the mentally ill. You can find it here. Ciao, bella!