Waking up America
Reflections from the BLK SHP Bus Tour
Thomas Sayre is a scientist with an artist’s heart. When the BLK SHP (black sheep) bus tour made a stop in Thomas’s studio in Raleigh, NC, we found him crouched over, gently slapping a pit of red-orange dirt with a metal tool that resembled a windshield wiper. He was prototyping an upcoming private commission using a method called earth-casting. His sculptural forms harden in the ground and pick up the texture of the soil as well as a random assortment of rocks and grasses. Developed by Thomas, this artistic technique allows him to use the earth itself as his sculpting partner.
We had a little more than an hour with Thomas. He spoke about his process. Coming up with a concept. Digging a shape. Pouring a specially invented, extra-strength mix of concrete dyed to match the sunset-orange color of the dirt. Letting go.
He showed a 14 inch wooden maquette of his latest project: a 16ft sculpture made of layers of flying saucers stacked on top of each other. Each saucer was bigger than the one below it. The finished piece resembled the abstract form of a twister.
I don’t want to make the wooden maquette big, Thomas explained. I don’t want to render it and blow it up like a big 3-D printer. I want to create something with life and spirit.
I want to create something with life and spirit.
For six days, I had the privilege of joining a group of entrepreneurs, storytellers, artists, musicians, authors. We shared time on a bus, driving from place to place, often stopping at one place per day and connecting with a local shepherd (guide) who had organized introductions, conversations, meals, and activities. Sometimes, our shepherds planned detailed itineraries in advance. Other times, they offered us broader histories of their hometown neighborhoods while we spontaneously engaged with the communities we were visiting.
I met Thomas during my second day on the road. Like other people we encountered, Thomas welcomed us into his space. We spent most of our time squatting with him in the test pit of dirt just outside his studio. I loved it. This was Thomas’s R&D space. This was where he did his day’s work. This unassuming dirt pit was where he re-learned his craft in preparation for his next piece. Though we were outsiders, the openness and ease with which Thomas shared his thoughts made me feel like we were insiders.
We were outside, but inside.
This feeling showed up in all of the stops we made during our journey. It was in
Greenville, SC
Raleigh, NC
Durham, NC
Pittsburgh, PA
Baltimore, MA
Detroit, MI
and at an Amish family homestead in Indiana. We were outsiders being welcomed in.
Some of our interactions were with people who had vague notions of what we were there to do. They welcomed us just the same. When they learned we wanted to swap stories, myth bust, discover new iterations of the American Dream, they opened up. A talented artist and printer living in Detroit named Amos Paul Kennedy Jr. said, the thing about dreams is, you have to be sleeping to experience them, and even then, you can still have nightmares!
Another thing about dreaming. The experience ends once we wake up. For better or worse, the dreamers of this country are waking up.
In some cases, we’ve been waking up from dreams concealing social struggles, serving as exit doors from real-life nightmares of injustice, neglect, carelessness. In other cases, we’ve been waking up from dreams that have turned into nightmares, and seeing opportunity in the ruins of abandoned factories, blighted neighborhoods, streetwise compatriots who have been reworking our shared social scaffolding even though no one pays notice to their efforts.
What do people who have woken say to those who might still be sleepwalking?
You don’t master a craft. You submit to it. Amos, the artist-warrior-poet-printer from Detroit, MI, tells his students. I don’t do what I do to make money. I do it because I’m good at it and I enjoy it and I have control over my time.
Thomas from Raleigh, NC, shared, I found that art school was about mastery. I’ve never wanted to master anything. I want to work with my environment, the things I can’t control, the pebbles, the jagged edges of larger rocks, the dirt, the wind. That’s where the life and spirit come from. How hippy does that sound. I don’t know. It’s just what I’ve always done.
Joe, a small business owner in Durham, NC, framed his interaction with the community in these terms. Kids don’t want to make hotdogs or flip burgers. It’s not glamorous. I make hotdogs. They are really good. And, you know, it was never about the hot dogs. It was about being a part of the community and doing something positive.
Barbara and Michael from the Mattress Factory in Pittsburgh, PA, just wanted a place to do our own thing. I didn’t do this for a social cause. I was selfish, Barbara said about her start in the ‘70s. I wanted a certain kind of community and couldn’t find it. So I made one for myself. We work directly with artists and allow them to do whatever they want (almost) in our space.
Bill who has been living in Greenville, SC, for the last 72 years expressed hope for the artist studios they are building in that ol’ Mill. I think it’s a good thing. Hopefully, the Village will be as busy as it used to be when I was growing up. Have you heard of Shoeless Joe Jackson? The ball player? He played for a Mill Team here back then.
Victor, a denim entrepreneur and founder of Raleigh Denim Workshop, replied I’m not interested in making jeans that a person can afford when pushed about the mass appeal of his product. I’m interested in making the best jeans I can possibly make with locally sourced materials and talent. You don’t wash our jeans. You freeze them. They’ll last forever when compared to a $20 pair.
In Baltimore, one of my bus mates playfully pointed the camera at me and asked, Chris, what question do you want people to answer on this tour? MIND FREEZE. Then it hit me. I want to know what makes all of these amazing people feel uncomfortable or scared and find out how they deal with that discomfort and turn their fear into courage.
On a number of occasions, I found myself shaking my head up and down vigorously. Yes! I would mouth to myself silently, or sometimes aloud, and not so silently. What about those times when our heads hang low? What do black sheep do to stay on path when they might be off track?
I asked this question to a few people. I really appreciated the completely naked answer given by a woman named Lee who is building out Neu Kirche, an artist-in-residence, studio space located in an old church, in Pittsburgh, PA. Through a relieve-the-tension smile, Lee said,
I get uncomfortable, frustrated, upset, angry when people just don’t get it. They just don’t get it no matter how many times I explain it to them. And, for a moment I lose faith in humanity. Then, I get over it. I remind myself of my bigger vision and what we’re trying to do. And, then I go around the obstacle, or under it, or over it, or through it, so that I can keep heading toward that bigger vision.
Near the end of our time with Thomas, he opened the doors to his studio and let us poke around. His space was filled with tools, wires, machines, tables, art pieces in various stages of completion. It was a cross between a garage and a really sophisticated slash dangerous looking kindergarten classroom. Think color, disarray, creativity.
In Thomas’s studio, we noticed a large American flag hanging on the wall. The red stripes were replaced with burned lines. The normally blue, star-filled square was replaced with a piece of metal riddled with bullet holes. Thomas explained, I shot these holes. I burned these stripes. We live in a violent country. We have to own this violence even if we don’t physically participate in it. We have to see it in our selves and recognize it or else we will be consumed by it.
Sitting in a cafe in New York, reflecting on the experience of the last week, I feel the violence of our country that Thomas referenced while pointing at his beautifully tragic take on Old Glory. At the same time, I feel the lingering positivity generated by practices of open, easy, life-giving hospitality I experienced while on tour.
People living in the cities and communities we visited didn’t just open their doors to our group, they opened their hearts and minds. My bus mates — the few, the proud, the sheepish — also played host to each other. Hospitality was a gift we received and gave. Like our experience visiting Thomas Sayer’s studio, everyone may have been outside to each other, because we came from different backgrounds, lived in different places, experienced different times, but we could still be inside to each other through sharing thoughts, feelings, stories. No matter our status, title, age, or experience, we chose hospitality.
The I Have A Dream speech was Dr. King’s nice speech says Amos. You should hear his other speeches! he continued with a knowing laugh.
Indeed, the I have a dream speech remains one of the most inspiring and accessible calls for us to imagine bigger and treat each other better. It describes the American promissory note that Dr. King and his audience came to collect. However, the vision Dr. King captured with this speech did not originate in the land of dreams. Like Thomas Sayre, Dr. King was in the trenches, digging around, working with raw materials in his test pit of human clay. I’d like to think that Dr. King’s dream came from some of the lands of faith and place I had a chance to briefly visit last week. Perhaps now, even the time for dreaming is over. Like before, people are starting to wake up. In some places, they have sprung out of bed, and are already taking on the new day. In others, they are struggling to open their eyes to what’s in front of them, but trying nonetheless. It’s time for all of us to wake up so we can be good, hospitable hosts to the many people, communities, ideas, and opportunities knocking at our door.
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Thank you to the amazing people who helped to organize this experience and to all of the hosts — formal and informal — who welcomed me and my BLK SHP compatriots to your cities and homes. You have left an impression on me and I’ve been sharing many stories from the road with friends and family.
Visit www.theblkshp.org for more information on the BLK SHP and the Bus Tour.
Author’s Note: All italicized words reflect paraphrased quotes. I am going off my memory of the interaction.
