The Art of Permission & Acceptance
I love the arts. I stand in awe of the power the arts can bring to our experience of the world. Dance, theatre, music, and visual arts provide a depth of expression that feeds our very being. Whether it’s those of us who dabble or professional artists, the arts provide cathartic pathways for us to articulate our feelings, thoughts, and ideas so we can make meaning. When we can’t or prefer not to verbalize, we can pour our emotions and reflections into a channel of creativity or sing along with a favorite tune.
I chastise myself when I miss a performance or an exhibit that called out to me when I initially saw the announcement for it. Currently, I have the exhibit and performance “Edges of Ailey” at the Whitney Museum and “In Slavery’s Wake: Making Black Freedom in the World” at the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington at the top of my list.
The purpose of art is to lay bare the questions that have been hidden by the answers.
—James Baldwin
When a story reconnects me to this love and demonstrates the power of the arts, I feel reinspired all over again. CBS Sunday Morning’s correspondent Ted Koppel recently visited Sing Sing Correctional Facility with John Whitfield and Clarence Maclin. The purpose of the visit was to see the Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) theatre program in action. RTA was the inspiration for the recently released film, Sing Sing. Working alongside screen actor Colman Domingo, eighty-five percent of the cast members are formerly incarcerated men.
John Whitfield, a former inmate, was a founding member of RTA. Clarence Maclin, a main character in the film, credits Whitfield with encouraging him to join the program. The impact is evident from all Koppel spoke with—the formerly incarcerated, volunteers, and former administrators. But their statements weren’t the only indicators of success. The recidivism rate for those incarcerated three years or less is 60%. For those who participate in RTA, the rate is an astounding 3%.
In the confines of a prison, a theatre program gave the men a level of humanity that changed their lives.
The former warden said that the men became leaders as they gained acceptance from the staff and other inmates.
The inmates gained permission to be and to feel things that were not a part of their everyday existence, notably, the permission to show emotion and even to be funny.
RTA participants became different people as they developed empathy, trust, and respect.
Koppel summed up the piece by saying that the men now had a promise that they can become something other than what they were.
In Your Brain On Art: How the Arts Transform Us, authors Susan Magsamen and Ivy Ross explore the science of neuro-aesthetics—how our brains and bodies transform when we participate in the arts. Magsamen and Ivy quote from the work of Anjan Chatterjee, a professor of neurology, psychology, and architecture at Pennsylvania University’s Center for Neuroaesthetics. Chatterjee's aesthetic triad model is: the information gathering of our sensorimotor systems, our brain’s reward system, and meaning-making. Of the highly-contextual process of meaning-making, Chatterjee says:
In art, when there’s something challenging, which can also be uncomfortable, this discomfort, if we’re willing to engage with it, offers the possibility of some change, some transformation. That can also be a powerful aesthetic experience.
In the best of circumstances, art brings us perspective, joy, and wonder. In the worst of circumstances, the arts can elevate our sense of who we can be.
Better people make a better society.