POVA & Kateri’s First Art Show
“I couldn’t sleep at all last night because I’m so excited”, Kateri told me as she opened her door to the extended-stay hotel she was staying at. I smiled as I walked in and embraced her. It was the day of Kateri’s very first art show, and we had spent the last week diligently preparing. While I had left town a couple days before, Kateri took advantage of the space she was staying at and spent the entire week matting her art work, titling, and getting everything together for her big day. We were so excited to have been invited by Public Nashville to participate in the 1st Saturday Wedgewood/Houston Art Crawl.
When I walked in and began to survey her art, I was impressed with how much she had accomplished. As she saw me examining her artwork, she immediately began apologizing that it didn’t look more professional. She wanted everything to be perfect, and even more she wanted to prove herself as an artist. “It looks great, Kateri!” I pushed back, stopping her apologies. Being an artist (whether its visual, music, writing, or etc) is an extremely vulnerable process. We put ourselves fully into our art, and then with courage we offer it to the world. Once offered to the world, our art is subject to critique, misunderstanding, and enjoyment. It takes real guts to be an artist.
And yet Kateri didn’t need to just prove she was an artist. For Kateri, there seemed to be this extra layer of fear. She felt like she first needed to convince people that she was more than the homeless stereotypes, and THEN prove she was an artist.
We made our way to Turnip Green Creative Reuse and after putting the final touches on the rest of her art, we loaded the car and drove to Harvest Hands—the location of our gallery. Laurel greeted us with a warm smile and told us where to park. We gathered the art and began to load it into the building.
Leading up to the art crawl, I was stressed to the max. I had spent the previous weekend trying to help Kateri and Sam find a place to stay after being displaced, and then left town to speak at my mother’s Toastmaster’s club in Kentucky. The timing was overwhelming, and I even woke up sick one of the days—solely due to stress. It’s hard navigating what I’m responsible for and what I’ve got to take off my shoulders. And up until that day I was sick, I had been carrying a lot of extra weight. After all, while I definitely want to be a resource for Sam and Kateri, at the end of the day it cannot be my sole responsibility to find Sam and Kateri a place to stay. Josh and I can barely afford our own groceries and rent—much less take on the burden of another couple’s. However, I can see the privilege and opportunities I’ve been given, and I want to be able to share my resources with those that need it most.
Still carrying the burden that everything was my responsibility, we loaded Kateri’s art into Harvest Hands. However, it was the overwhelming encouragement and support of the volunteers from Public Nashville that finally began to break me of my independence. The volunteers quickly took initiative in helping us be creative on how to hang and organize the art. They set the food table, organized the room, and made Kateri feel right at home. It was the first time that I realized I had people on my team. I didn’t have to do everything, and people were more than willing to help out. I happily relinquished my control and stood back in awe as I watched the room transform around me into a lovely gallery of Kateri’s work.
That night, Kateri was incredible. Not only did she get great feedback on all of her artwork, but I watched in joy as she talked with the supporters of her art throughout the night. I watched in wonder as the broken woman I held crying in the parking lot a week earlier, was full of laughter, excitement, and pride as she conversed with the many strangers who reveled in her art that night. Kateri was not a homeless artist—she was an artist.
She shared her story, process, and joys with the many people that stopped by that evening. And to top it off, she sold TWO pieces of art that night thanks to the incredible support of her audience.
The next morning when I cashed the checks from Kateri’s art, I hesitantly asked Josh how much to give her. When our artists first signed the Poverty & the Arts contract, the deal was that our artists would get 75% of all the artwork sold, and Poverty & the Arts would receive 25%. (The main reason being the time and expense it takes Poverty & the Arts to put on exhibits for our artists). However, since we hadn’t discussed payment since that contract, I was afraid Kateri would be upset if Poverty & the Arts took some of it. To my surprise, when I dropped off Kateri’s 75%, before even counting the money the first thing Kateri said was, “Did you make sure Poverty & the Arts took out 25%? I hope you did!” Here was a woman who didn’t have $1 to her name before this moment, and she still wanted to honor her commitment and honor the ways that Poverty & the Arts had helped her. I am always humbled by the gratefulness and absence of greed of people in poverty. It’s a very stark contrast to the rich corporations fighting to keep more of their money and making sure no one else gets a penny.
I am so happy with the results of the art crawl, and Kateri’s reaction when I dropped off her money was more than enough. She danced and laughed and even cried a little as she accepted the money she had earned from selling her art. It was an incredible moment of joy and pride, as I watched Kateri begin to own her talent and art. For the first time, being an artist wasn’t a dream—it was a reality.
