Art

During this year's month of September, I embarked upon a rather interesting project.
In an acting class I was taking in Philadelphia, my acting teacher gave us all a quote to help further our personal capabilities:
"boldness has genius and magic in it."-Goethe
It stuck with me, and inspired me to go forward with an idea that had been filed away into the dusty corners of my eternally buzzing brain.
During my last semester at college, I took a service learning class which required a minimum of 12 hours time spent over the course of the semester working with a Non-Profit Organization called EIS: Eviction Intervention Services. Since I didn't realize that I had signed up for something that required me to do more than doodle in my notes and spew out elegant BS on quizzes, I was somewhat upset. I didn't see how I could fit a few hours a week into my already bulging schedule, but as I also didn't have the emotional fortitude to go and switch classes, I just took it as a lesson to read the fine print next time.
I truly believe this is one of those situations where the most unexpected and somewhat distressing situations can really turn into something that changes your life a little bit. EIS is one of the most amazing organizations I have ever come in contact with. These people work long hours for a very insecure amount of payment, all to forward "homelessness prevention." EIS works with people who are at the end of their rope, who are about to be evicted from their housing either through unfairness of the landlord, or through faults of their own. These people come seeking help, fully admitting the error of their ways, and ready to cast any prideful foolishness aside in the hopes of keeping their homes.
One day, I was stuffing envelopes for an upcoming event of theirs, zoning out and staring at the clock. A woman came in and, due to the lack of sufficient office space in their tiny basement establishment, the woman had to have her meeting with the pro bono lawyer at the conference table in the middle of the room...with me at the other end. Her story was heartbreaking. She was a recovering alcoholic who had alienated everyone in her family, lost years of her life, and I believe lost the custody of her daughter. She finally found a way out of this deep, dark hole and now had to face the fact that her rent was overdue and her landlord had had enough. To have this woman, this complete and total stranger, have to relay the private details of her sad and troubled life while some bleary eyed college student is stuffing envelopes, trying politely not to be noticed, is a situation I can't picture from the other end. And then it occurred to me that this is a typical day at EIS. This story is just one in a million, which is the core of their foundation, the reason they wake up in the morning, just like the rest of us. Except instead of fighting off the afternoon haze with some absent minded internet browsing, you have to sit in a large room and have someone break your heart.
Sitting in their windowless and somewhat depressing waiting room one morning, the idea to give back to them came fully formed in my head. The head of EIS, Audrey, and I had been talking about my plans after college to paint a mural in some sort of lower-income area that needed something cheerful. While that plan fell through, I decided that the idea itself shouldn't get lost in the shuffle and so, new Goethe quote in hand, I called up Audrey months after I had been in her office and proposed my idea to paint a picture for their waiting room. She responded far more enthusiastically than I could have ever hoped for, and in a flurry of mild press (my college's alumni magazine did a brief interview with me about the process) the painting is essentially completed! A few details will be administered tomorrow, and then...it's complete.
It feels really good to be doing something that I believe in. I'm not getting any profit off of this project. EIS has offered to reimburse me the materials I needed to acquire to make it happen, just the canvas, some paint, and some paintbrushes, and here we are. It's going to be strange to not have it sitting around the apartment anymore, but I'm extremely pleased to know that it will be doing some good in the world.