Contact: Robbie S. Ward
Photo by: Beth Newman
STARKVILLE, Miss.--Shannon Herod looked at the sky blue and grass green canvas with a giant rainbow and a wooden cabin and knew her art piece wasn't finished.
She had envisioned an old log in the foreground, with flowers growing near it.
"I've got more to do to it," said the painter and poet. With an artist's sensitivities, she embraces her unique perspective.
Born with cerebral palsy, Herod understands that many people can't appreciate her traits because they tend to focus on what she is unable to do. Transported by motorized wheelchair and unable to use her arms, the 47-year-old Columbus native resides at a local facility for persons with developmental challenges--and few opportunities to showcase her special creative spirit.
Fortunately, through Express Yourself, a program at Mississippi State's T.K. Martin Center for Technology and Disability, she and others with severe disabilities get to do what the name implies, express themselves as artists.
Judy Duncan, Martin's case manager, has come to know many people with more severe challenges. She said she sees them all as treasure chests, just waiting to be unlocked.
"Many of our artists are told how to do everything in their lives," Duncan explained. "Express Yourself allows them to explore their independent, creative sides."
The university center has helped dozens of people connect with their "inner artist" who otherwise couldn't. The program follows principles developed by abstract artist Tim Lefens more than a decade ago to involve able-bodied people acting as "hands" for disabled people.
Often, an artist uses laser lights to guide a "tracker," who is acting as the painter's hands. Many who participate in the program cannot verbally communicate with their trackers. While each relationship is different, they typically develop a unique communication to produce the finished work.
Lefens created the New Jersey-based Artistic Realization Technologies. Most often called A.R.T, the nonprofit organization works to promote art techniques through 27 studio programs around the country.
Duncan started MSU's program about five years ago after Lefens spoke on campus. While Lefens-inspired, Express Yourself at the Martin Center remains an independent operation.
Though his organization currently is opening new programs in Idaho, Virginia and New York, Lefens said he regularly encounters resistance in some locales.
"Luckily there are places like T.K. Martin where they had the vision to grab on to the breakthrough and run with it," he observed.
Twice a month, Herod and other artists visit the campus studio for 90-minute sessions. Most reside at a Starkville developmental center; others, in nearby communities. Thalamus Brown, another developmental center resident, said he didn't enjoy the experience at first and stopped going. One of Brown's best friends and roommate, T.J. Bovastro, continued to be a regular participant, however.
Bovastro, who dubbed himself "Sir Mix a Lot" for his particular creative style, died before completing his last canvas. After the funeral, Duncan asked Brown if he could return to the studio to complete Bovastro's effort.
The finished work now is on display at the center's entrance, and Brown continues to paint. Asked how he feels about expressing himself through art, his eyes widened as he explained what the experience meant to "Sir Mix a Lot."
"I keep coming to keep him here," said Brown, also born with cerebral palsy. "It also teaches me about myself."
MSU's program currently receives funding from the Mississippi Arts Commission. Members of the public also are permitted to purchase the work, with proceeds from each sale split between the center and the artists. Dozens of their paintings line the center's hallways.
Janey Linley was one who saw the paintings when 6-year-old daughters Paige and Megan attended the center. Paige has cerebral palsy.
While Linley now owns four paintings, one featuring two figures with a heart between them has special meaning. She said it reminds her of love for her daughters, and all with cerebral palsy.
"I don't see their limitations," Linley said. "I see abilities they have."
One recent day at her residence, a tear rolled from Herod's cheek as she discussed her life, how others don't see beyond her wheelchair and physical limitations, how so many consider her like less than a person. A smile replaced the tear as she spoke about her feelings when someone purchases a painting. It makes her feel empowered, she added.
"I might have cerebral palsy, but I won't let anyone tell me what I can't do," she said.