Does the Golden Rule Still Work?

From the Heart

Healing Leaves Project

“Identify someone different from you; then the two of you go serve someone else. The best way to have reconciliation is through service. Not through racial seminars,” said Dr. Tony Evans, a famous black pastor, in a radio interview after the unjust and brutal killing of George Floyd. Dr. Evans’ quote stood out to me, because it points to the type of movement needed for our nation to heal.

While listening to the radio and lamenting the loss of George Floyd’s precious life, I wondered how I could be part of the solution, to help bring about meaningful change. The Healing Leaves Project came to mind. For this project, we pasted leaf-shaped Post-it notes with hand-written messages—words like “love wins” or “show empathy”—around the protest zone in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and prayed for healing.

On Sunday afternoons for the month of June, my Healing in Arts team and random individuals we have met on the sidewalk have been sticking these notes, which speak hope into our pain, on store windows, street benches, and lamp posts. We even gave a pack of leaf-shaped notes and a Sharpie to a stranger who wanted to participate.

Healing Leaf Post-it notes and Sharpie

In thinking about what more I could do to be part of the healing process, I remembered a situation from several years ago, where I learned some lessons on how to solve conflict through helping my neighbor and living by the Golden Rule—treat others the way you want to be treated. Here’s my personal story:

We have lived in several states because of my husband’s work. In one place, we had African-American neighbors move in next door. We appreciated these new neighbors, a young mother, whom I’ll call Monica, and her children, because our children would have new friends in the neighborhood.

From the very first day they moved in, the kids got together after school to play basketball or baseball in our yard. At times when the kids played, small conflicts occurred. For the most part, these skirmishes were easily solved between the children. But sometimes, Monica and I had to get involved to help solve the disagreements and restore the peace.

It’s fair to say that Monica and I both made some mistakes over the years as neighbors. Some of these mistakes caused friction. Overall, though, things flowed smoothly.

But one day, when I brought over some food as a gift, Monica got really offended. She explained that this particular gift insinuated that she had less than me. Because of my gift, she established a new boundary line between our homes; a line she didn’t want crossed—“ever again.” I felt surprised and disheartened at Monica’s strong response. After sincerely apologizing, I prayed for a chance to reconcile with her and make things right.

A few months later, an opportunity came to help Monica in a natural way. One day, as she was struggling to back up her car around another car parked in her driveway, I took a risk and went over to help her. It took about forty-five minutes to help direct her, but when Monica finally maneuvered around the other car safely, she got out of her car and ran over to give me a hug. In that moment, the tension that had existed between our two homes over the previous couple of months disappeared, and peace was finally restored.

Healing Leaves message on lamp post in downtown Grand Rapids. Michigan

Monica taught me how to be sensitive to others—what may be a gift to one person isn’t necessarily a gift to another. She also showed me the importance of humbly listening to others and respecting their boundaries so balance and harmony can exist. The Golden Rule and a willingness to change, on my part, helped reestablish peace between our two homes, and our kids continued to enjoy their backyard sports.

Years later, I discovered that within a five-house radius of our home, different neighbors showed love to Monica and her children through unique acts of service. One neighbor drove one of Monica’s sons to football practice. Another neighbor went to watch another of her sons play basketball. And a third neighbor invited the boys to the lake and taught them how to swim. There was no organized effort in the neighborhood to help Monica raise her children, yet several neighbors did their part to seek the common good for all.

Collective Art During COVID-19

Behind the Artwork

Examples of Lunch Bag Art

During the recent pandemic, when our government gave a “Shelter in Place” order, many of us have faced a new struggle of being alone behind closed doors. For the first time, I heard some of my friends say, “I’m lonely.” To counteract this situation of prolonged isolation, I have been looking for new ways to still be creative and engage others safely through my social art practice.

For our Lunch Bag Art project, I invited Facebook followers to hand-paint lunch bags for Kids Food Basket, a local nonprofit that supports at-risk children. To my surprise, over thirty-five people volunteered to join our art team, including residents from a local nursing home. So, while people were stocking up on toilet paper (true confession, I bought an extra pack, too), I also purchased hundreds of paper lunch bags, along with one hundred and fifty mini crayon packets to go with some of our specially designed “coloring-page” lunch sacks. So, some of the children will receive a DIY project with a crayon pack tucked inside the lunch bags.

Lunch Bag Art kit/drawings

Then I assembled each volunteer’s art kit, containing one hundred lunch bags, instructions, and supplies—sponges, paintbrushes, foam plate palettes, mini bottles of paint, and even an empty yogurt container to wash the brushes. The kits were labeled with the volunteers’ names and placed on my front porch for pickup, maintaining social distancing rules. Then the completed lunch bags were returned to my front porch a few days later.

Lunch Bag Art kits on doorstep

Volunteers included kids, teens, young professionals, moms, grandmoms, and friends of friends. One friend from out of town and another Instagram friend even mailed their decorated lunch bags to my house. Everyone was so excited to be part of this project, because it was a welcomed relief from a prolonged period of social distancing. The project gave everyone something to do. Plus, this creative opportunity provided a chance to pass on hope and healing to children in need.

Finished art on lunch bags

This pandemic has reminded me to appreciate the simple gifts in life, like an evening walk with my husband, eggs on the grocery shelf, and seeing new opportunities to encourage others through art. As an artist who creates hands-on experiences, I’m learning how to adapt my art practices to help keep others safe but in ways that are still impactful for our rapidly changing culture. Thanks to a wonderful bunch of Healing in Art’s team members. Because of their hard work, the message of hope and healing has been passed on to over 2,000 children struggling with hunger through the beautiful, hand-painted lunch bags.

Finished art on lunch bags

Light Up Hope

Behind the Artwork

Close-up of Light Up Hope

While learning to adapt in times of uncertainty, some things never change—like our basic need to connect with others and our desire for beauty. So, in the middle of a pandemic, I’m searching for new ways to create art and spread hope. For a new project called Light Up Hope, I purchased one hundred and fifty paper lunch bags and six hundred battery-operated candles to make luminaries for my neighborhood.

Then I contacted over a dozen neighbors and asked if they wanted to participate. Admittedly, a few of the neighbors I had rarely spoken to, or even met, though we have lived in the same neighborhood for over twenty years. But everyone said, “Yes.”

Light Up Hope project lining neighborhood streets

After lighting the paper lanterns, one neighbor got a little emotional. A second neighbor said that her family went on a special outing to drive past the lights. And a third neighbor responded with a note: “Thanks for doing this and reminding us of our Hope.” This small, healing project ended up encouraging so many neighbors, including a few who are hurting right now. While peering from our windows, the sacred beauty connected us—house to house—and revived our sense hope.

Childhood Studio

Behind the Artwork

Childhood art studio

Through an art class, I have been recently introduced to artist Rochelle Feinstein. Feinstein writes about the importance of chronicling the creative process and each stage of making. She explains that these various periods became special markers.

For her, the history of making started when she was only four years old. Her space, a child sized bed, “supported a menagerie of stuffed animals, systematically arranged by color, size, and species.”[1] Though unaware at the time, Feinstein, from a young age, was already setting the stage for her future studio work.

Reflecting on Feinstein’s creative journey, I had my own epiphany. After living everywhere from Japan to Germany and places in between, my husband moved our family to my childhood home in the Midwest. Years later, after our children left the homestead, I have a whole house with unoccupied spaces to expand my studio into. As the light changes throughout the day, I shift my projects from one room to the next, following the sun from rise to set.

One sunny morning, while sitting on the floor of my childhood bedroom to work on my next ArtPrize installation, I realized that I was in the exact spot where my artist’s heart first formed. My studio practices started in that very room. As a child, I spent hours after school on the floor in my bedroom, creating mini-installations from old shoe boxes, Dixie cups, fabric, sequins, and all kinds of other found treasures. In that moment, I uttered a prayer of gratefulness—my creative journey had crossed two oceans, three continents, only to return back home to the humble floor of my childhood studio.

Mock-up model for Yellow Ribbon installation

To design Yellow Ribbon, I started with a paper pattern. Next, I created a foam board model.

[1] The Studio Reader: On the Space of Artists, Grabner, 2010, University of Chicago Press, Rochelle Feinstein, p 21.

Broken Art

From the Heart

Broken, imperfect seashell filled with tiny holes

When I was young, my family spent a lot of time at the beach. My husband and I have continued that tradition with our own children. Last summer, while walking along the Atlantic Ocean’s edge, I thought about these nostalgic childhood memories.

Although most beach-combers may look for perfect shells, I found a rough, broken shell that is filled with hundreds of tiny holes. The beauty displayed within the broken piece reminded me of my less-than-picture-book-perfect history. But over time, life’s disappointments and wounds have perfectly formed me into the kind of artist I am today—a creative person who identifies with and cares about those who are hurting.

I actually collected two broken beach shells to display in my studio. But while my friend was visiting my studio, she was drawn to the rare beauty of the broken seashells. So, I gave her one of my found treasures to encourage her through her recent cancer battle. A couple of months later, after recovering, my friend told me that she had since passed along the broken shell to someone else, who was struggling through a divorce.

I was very surprised to learn that a relic I had originally collected to display in my studio had taken on a new purpose as a symbol of hope. After discussing our own brokenness, the disappointments, struggles, and wounds, my friend and I both wondered: How many more individuals would be touched with healing as the broken shell is passed from one hurting friend to another?

Passing on seashell

Redemptive Art

Behind the Artwork

Swatches of red denim for use in Red Jeans Redemption project

The catalytic response from visitors surrounding my ArtPrize work caught the attention of the internationally known artist Makoto Fujimura. In 2014, Mako wrote, “Pamela Alderman’s installation The Scarlet Cord at the Ford Presidential Museum is attracting thousands. Her work of paintings combined with participatory, Yoko Ono-like installations hit home, and the lines for her exhibit grew longer every day. What Pamela experienced, and what ArtPrize made possible, is an extraordinary success by any measure.”

Through Mako’s insights, I have continued to expand my work, which taps into the healing power of art to help individuals flourish. He also helped me hone my creative interests and messaging. Mako’s contribution has made a major difference in my community-based art by helping the work to advance beyond ArtPrize.

Before meeting Mako, I had packed away my paint brushes for fifteen years. Instead of art, it was a time for spiritual grounding, while learning how to apply positive life principles in everyday ways to benefit others. Now, as an artist, I’m using what I learned then to support friends, neighbors, and strangers through my redemptive art.

Robert Schumann, a German composer, said an artist’s duty is “to send light into the darkness of men’s hearts.” As an artist of the soul, I’m learning how to cultivate exhibits that focus on empathy and compassion. Such work addresses our universal brokenness, but it also reflects a bit of my own story.

At thirty-four, I found out the most powerful man I knew had suddenly died. Enormous grief pulled me out to sea like a riptide. Wasn’t I too young to bury my father?

After my dad’s death, I finally realized I had this white-knuckled grip on how I wanted my life to work out; I wanted a storybook family that goes sailing on Sunday afternoons. My childhood dream capsized, though, when my parents divorced and my family broke apart. I found myself drowning in the deep water, trying to control the wreckage and stay afloat. Those pain-saturated decades, the parts I can talk about and the parts I can’t, seep out through my art.

Whether it’s attaching a scrap of red jeans to help raise awareness for sex trafficking, or releasing a personal struggle by writing a “let go” statement, or writing a note to a veteran coping with PTSD, military sexual assault, or veteran suicide—elements of a future 2020 work—each installation creates a nurturing space that invites hope. Because of my past pain, I believe art has a unique potential to touch the deep places within the human spirit, and interactive art, especially art that offers healing, draws people into a place of restoration.

When Life is Turned Upside Down

General

Paint bottles

Art and beauty are especially needed in these times of uncertainty; hands-on activities promote emotional well-being. In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, we are committed to serving others. After learning about a need for mini paint bottles at Holland Home, a local retirement community, we gladly shared our art supplies.

To maintain social distancing, the art materials will be delivered to individual rooms, so the residents can have a fun project to occupy their time. During these challenging times, healing art can be a lifeline for those who are isolated or struggling with anxiety. Stay healthy and stay safe—and see what you can create from the unexpected.