RACHEL LEVER joins ROD HARMAN in an appreciation of Project Art Works

RACHEL LEVER: Some years ago there was a stunning exhibition in the basement of 12 Claremont, the old YMCA building that was being restored and converted to artists’ studios, meeting places and showrooms by Jon Cole and Caroline le Breton.

In the middle of the floor stood a car that had been cut up into quarters. The walls were muralled with scenes painted by the young people that had accomplished this. And a thrilling movie showed them at work: learning to use the industrial cutters, gearing up in protective clothing, and whooping with delight at their handiwork amid the sparks. The kids themselves co-hosted the private view, greeting visitors as we came in.

The making of this installation would have been life-enhancing for anyone. How much more so for “problem” kids consigned to the margins of life and society.

The whole event was undertaken by artists Kenton Lowe and Jon Cole. Jon, whose death in an accident in January 2007 devastated great swathes of the town, was at the time also a founding member of Project Art Works. This is an “art intervention” in the lives of young people with deep, complex and multiple neurological problems, which in various combinations of impairment (e.g. deafness plus mobility problems plus learning difficulties) often leaves them locked into themselves. So art can be a powerful means to bring communication and meaning into their lives.

Project Art Works had four major installations in the Coastal Currents festival, and have also just produced a beautiful hardback book, consisting almost entirely of pictures of the young people and their families. Keeping film and photographic records of their work is integral to Project Art Works, feeding back to its participants an image of who they themselves are. But the book, called Art in Transition, came out of a particular need.

At the point where these young people have to switch from children’s to adult services, they undergo a detailed “transition planning” assessment. But, says Kate Adams in her introduction, these assessments tend to be about what the kids can’t do, rather than about who they are as individuals and what they can do and are interested in. PAW “was concerned that the transition planning process might not pick up on the level of creativity and enthusiasm for art they had experienced”.

Meanwhile at national level there was a move supported by government to study and improve this transition, with a couple of important reports in 2007. PAW therefore decided to pitch into this discussion, so that the experience gained in Hastings could be shared around the country: to produce a “climate of possibilities … for young people as they head into adult life.”

The method they chose was the Personal Profile Project. Matching up the young people with artists who use the medium of film in their work, together they would produce a short, high quality film which would “complement the other forms of documentation and assessment and illuminate the discussion between parents and professionals about the young person’s interests, abilities, attributes and needs”. Tellingly, these films of illumination had to be “accessible and poetic”!

And so a total of 12 young people with profound and complex disabilities got to work on films showing how they perceive themselves and the world. The book is a touching and deeply inspiring record of that process, highlighting qualities like kindness, love of nature, humour, loyalty to friends.

It’s mostly pictures, with short captions that pack quite a punch: “Helen likes bus rides and train rides and watching babies and toddlers. … She loves riding her trike, cups and saucers and people being around her.” Hannah tells us “I like doing horse riding. It makes me feel like the highest person in the world.” Beteena likes “looking at art with my mummy”. Claire’s friend says “she’s kind, shy, quiet … and good at bowling”.

The apparent simplicity belies the achievements: of Helen, Hannah, Beteena (pictured with clapperboard above) and the others in the face of all the odds, and of Project Art Works that has enabled us to see the poetry within.

ROD HARMAN: In this book, text and pictures irrefutably make a case that everyone can have a knowledge of themselves.

In a way, where words fail, P.A.W. starts. Based in Hastings, the life of the centre has been brilliantly chronicled throughout. These documents, exhibitions and films are invaluable and profound. Nowadays, being “transparent” is so often a smokescreen. Not so here. They are dealing with the dark side of transparency.

I remember a moment watching a film of one of their workshop projects. The floor had been laid to become a giant pallette — a small artist was placed in the colours. The late Jon Cole was with her in the paint. Suddenly a “smarm” took place — the little artist had become the brush. I in my dark corner witnessed: LET THERE BE LIGHT. I choose the word “smarm” because it warmly joins gesture and volition, our body and mind holding hands.

My life has overlapped with many of the remarkable people involved in PAW. I am privileged to be their friend, and like them, believe utterly that the framework of art can methodically approach the mystery of persons. In the deepest sense they are studying overlap which gives a voice to silence. Art does make one speechless, but this is the paradoxical vision of PAW, that impairment is given a voice. That speechlessness cries out.

In Culture and Value by the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, there is an intriguing statement: “Philosophers often behave like little children who scribble some marks on a piece of paper at random and then ask the grown-up:”what’s that?” It happened like this: the grown-up had drawn pictures for the child several times, and said “this is a man“, “this is a house” etc, and then the child makes some marks too, and asks: “what’s this then?”

So between us are the marks made, the scribble, the semblance of communication. Communication is a cutting edge, how can it be sharpened if impaired? The mark made can be a smear (smarm). This can illuminate in a “dawning” way. But many of the marks made at PAW have a purity, dexterity and deliberateness that is extraordinary.

I was awed when shown by Tony Colley paintings made under the resounding word of MENTORING. All sense of playgroup or people being humoured vanished. By the use of time-lapse photography the making of the work was visible in step with neurological impairment. The unfolding and perhaps even more extraordinary refolding of thoughts (to make a picture) were there in front of me — a profound synchronised dance (step in, step out) that allowed me to follow JUST BEHIND.

Also in: Community Arts