“This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.” — Toni Morrison

I’m hearing the question, “What am I being called to do?” from more and more friends.

Since several of my friends are artists, I also hear the question, “What is the role of the artist in times of chaos, catastrophe, and challenge?”

I don’t have a definitive answer, and each person must find their own, yet there’s power in the question.

Activist Arts

When I think of activist artists, certain images come to mind. I see Diego Rivera painting his vast murals honoring workers. I see graffiti artists offering messages to their communities. I see performance artists carrying placards and balloon figures, and essayists writing scathing observations.

Art that is overtly political can boldly state a message or sing its support for a cause.

Artists, however, have many ways to express concern and protest. Some may choose to stay quiet, protecting their nervous systems from bombardments of negativity and lies. Others may use artistic expression as a way to heal and respond to the question, “What is calling me now?” Some may sell paintings of beautiful flowers and donate part of the proceeds to support change efforts and endangered communities.

A Memorable Example

Recently, I learned about the collages of artist Hannelore Baron (1926-1987), a woman deeply concerned about the Vietnam War, the fate of political prisoners, and other pressing issues. An activist at heart, she could never march, burdened by the wounds of claustrophobia and anxiety stemming from her experience in Nazi Germany. (Her Jewish family escaped after her father was brutalized, eventually settling in New York City.)

What she could do was sit at her kitchen table and create. She made collages, boxes, and assemblages using torn fabrics, papers, paints, scraps, and wood—often in natural, somber tones. She preferred recycled materials.

When I first saw her collages online, I was stunned by their haunting beauty. I love collages that use natural tones and materials. Beyond that, her work profoundly moved me, and I felt I was in the presence of someone who deeply understood humanity.

She maintained, even up to her death, that she created art only for herself. The world might never have seen her work if her 19-year-old son hadn’t shown some pieces to friends in the art industry. Due to her anxiety, she could not attend her own art openings, but recognition grew, and she is now considered one of the great collage artists of the last century.

Almost forty years after her death, her work still exudes an energy that lets us feel something poignant about the human condition—a mixture of sadness, yearning, and beauty. She reminds me how hope, despair, suffering, and creativity can travel together.

Her work offers me a lesson in resilience, albeit without words, and hope that we can still bring light into dark places.

Read more about Hannelore Baron here.

Carrying On

Maya Angelou once stated, “The artist is so necessary in our lives. The artist explains to us, or at least asks the questions which must be asked.”

Artists ask questions, both verbal and non-verbal. They offer images of a future we have not yet seen and whispers of words we have not yet heard. They tap into the power of words, visuals, song, and movement to show us who we are and how to lead a sane, connected, creative life.

The current Administration may attempt to dismantle arts institutions like the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. They may mock and shame artists, or even (I hope not) use illegal power to censor them.

But they will never take away the voice of the artist.

Artists who ask questions will continue to ask them, and painters (along with many others) will find ways to express their spirit. They can offer a broken world gifts that may outstretch their lifetimes. 

They may use their arts to stay sane, hope-filled, and ready to do the next thing.

Here’s a moving ten-minute film about Hannelore.