The freshly painted door by Patrick to the newly renovated “Gallery” space on the grounds of the Alfajiri campus.
 |  Left: a quick demo I did on site; Above: an excited artist follows my lead. Below: making do with available tools in the make-shift outdoor setting. Flexibility and adaptability are key. |
In my last week in Kenya, I had the chance to spend a full day working with the Alfajiri “Advanced Artists” — a group of about half-dozen young men who have shown a keen interest in painting, and are hungry to develop their skills and learn. It’s big fun for me and I think they enjoyed the sessions I spent with them. They’re maturing into adulthood, and most are now experienced enough to want to move beyond basics. And all have been through varying degrees of personal hardship.
It’s a joyful opportunity for me in every way. This year, to alleviate some of the potential roadblocks to learning, I brought them some higher quality paints, as well as several new brushes of all sizes. Consider what to discuss brought back memories from my early painting classes, lessons from about 20 years of age, similar to theirs. Key difference in the setting however— IE: no available sinks, tables, lighting, lockers or places to store equipment; few have any “personal tools” of any sort like brushes, nor jars, nor palettes of decent size.
So we began with very simple things, like using two containers for water—one for cleansing brushes, the other for adding fresh water to mix paint. Mixing colors and trying not to create unwanted mud. Surprisingly they were not even in the habit of having rags on hand to use for wiping brushes or wiping off a mark. I teased them that they couldn’t find rags in Kenya—and they get the irony. Yet they have been steadily learning to paint, on their own for the most part, with occasional guest instructors like myself.
Largely they create images entirely from their memory or imagination, some find a photo to use as a reference, very rarely do they paint the world or people directly in front of them. Which meant beyond a few basics about tools and colors, and a couple quick demos, the only viable approach I could use was to encourage them to dive into whatever they wished, and try to guide them toward their goals.
Given the brutal and often unfathomable circumstances most of them have lived through, many carry a degree of trauma that young people in our society rarely experience. I feel my role is to give them skills with the tools and critical thinking, but leave it up to them to choose how or what they want to express through painting.
Some folks have gently asked if a “program” like this, guiding once-impoverished young adults in the discipline of making paintings, is creating a false hope in them about becoming famous and rich (even if only by the modest Kenyan economic standards. It’s a fair question, a variation of which was thorny enough to me long ago, raised in a stable middle class family within a modernized capitalist culture.
My feeling is no — because I emphasize the discipline they are learning, and minimize the fame and selling aspect best I can. I make them aware I’ve worked decades to be able to have sales. Sometimes our differences are in their favor. IE: it’s easy to forget how exciting learning and “schooling” of any kind can be when one has not had the opportunity to be in an educational setting for years, or in some of their cases, ever. They are all eager to improve their skills—so I try to feed that with encouragement, positive critiques, and suggestive questions about their paintings. I mention how often I screw my own work up still, and how I don’t treat anything I am making as precious— it all is subject to my harshest judgment, and I paint over many things all the time.
I particularly enjoy the camaraderie they reveal, and encouraged them to share with one another anything they could can that I them individually. Some already do this, and as many are former “street kids” I’m aware they learned to do this somewhat instinctively to survive. Self-confidence and trust, in their own ability to grow and also to aid one another in developing these skills, is a big part of my aim. I’m not doing this to discover the next Basquiat. (He didn’t end up so well anyway.) I’d much prefer they find a sense of who they are, some community, perhaps some validation, but ultimately some peace through this practice. It has brought me all the above.
Three have gained a good deal of experience. But their life circumstances here often has them walking a borderline. For instance, Patrick, who I enjoyed so much last year, has a keen eye for bold colors and pattern that marks him as a candidate for a career in fabric and textile design. However, some personal things have arisen and he’s not been coming around Alfajiri campus for a few months, so I missed him entirely this trip.
Yusuf is articulate, driven, and a passionate sponge about art (and it seems, everything!). Thanks to Alfajiri’s steadfast support he continues to blossom in all his abilities. I brought some art books this year and he tells me at one point: “I will read every page.” I laugh and tell him, just look at the pictures for now— you have years to make room to read each page! While pursuing his studies in statistics and programming, he always finds room for his art-making. He often takes commissions from friends to hone his skills and “earn small bits from these side gigs.” Yet admit all this passion, he excitedly told me an application he applied for to design some software as part of his studies has been accepted. In addition to sharing his knowledge with the less experienced young men in our group, he’s also sometimes been helping Alfajiri staff with their art therapy sessions with the street kids.
For the first time ever, I finally had a chance to work with Nick. He’s soft-spoken and thoughtful, and through Alfajiri’s help, the mentorship of the owner of a local framing business, and his own hard work, he’s establishing a very solid foundation. Alfajiri and the supportive framer have managed to get him a set of basic tools to do serious framing. From what was a ramshackle mess of a shed, Nick has cleared up two modest spaces, fashioned a decent roof, and made himself two workable rooms to frame paintings for Nairobi artists in his own shop. It’s another amazing transformation by Alfajiri, from a young boy at great risk to a young man focused and resolute in achieving productive, life-sustaining goals.
In addition to framing as a profession, he’s got great potential as a painter. I saw glimmers of a personal direction emerging, and felt it as much by the many excellent questions he asked me! “What if people see this and say it looks like another known artist in Nairobi, should I worry?” “Do I have to do shadows on forms? Sometimes I just like it this way…” I insist that as long as he knows if he’s copying something to learn not rip someone off, or aware when he’s not following rules to try and make something appear photographic, he’ll be fine. Listen to your instincts, you’re on the right track, I sincerely, happily, tell him.
Another four young people are at what I consider “level one” of training in the fledgling “Alfajiri Art Academy.” I got along with each personality very well. [I’m only avoiding listing their names for their own protection.] [I’m only avoiding listing their names for their own protection.] By my final day, one had me talking to another’s girlfriend on the phone; I elicited a round of teen-age howls when I asked her if she was girlfriend number one or number two? I had many good laughs with them all. We’d just begun developing a rapport, making it very hard to recognize I won’t see them again for a year, if that!
One was struggling with a simple landscape to which he’d begun adding details. “What should I do?” he asked (a typical beginner’s question). What do you think? I asked (a typical mentor’s reply). “I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right” What aren’t you happy with? “I’m not sure…” Well, keep trying to answer that, and just work on different areas. We can look again after our lunch. And don’t forget, it’s just paint, you can change every thing about it if you want. You’re the one in control of it.
Just before the break, when I get back to him, I was stunned to see he’s painted out the entire canvas, something I’ve rarely seen any of them do. What happened? I ask. “I just decided it was not going to work and it was better to start all over, “ he tells me proudly. I tell him that getting the details precisely right on the trees he was working on took patience, but painting the whole thing out like this took even greater courage. I can feel it sinking in and catch a faint smile from my side view as he stares at his freshly over-painted canvas.
“Mistakes are always a good thing!” He tells me, glowing — an idea I shared the week before with them all. Why is that? I ask, gently testing him. “Because they mean you are moving forward, seeing something you must fix or can change! You are learning!” Amen, amen! This is precisely how study in the arts impacts lives. I’m confident these once impoverished kids that Alfajiri has steadily guided now at least have a shot.
It’s a joyful opportunity for me in every way. This year, to alleviate some of the potential roadblocks to learning, I brought them some higher quality paints, as well as several new brushes of all sizes. Consider what to discuss brought back memories from my early painting classes, lessons from about 20 years of age, similar to theirs. Key difference in the setting however— IE: no available sinks, tables, lighting, lockers or places to store equipment; few have any “personal tools” of any sort like brushes, nor jars, nor palettes of decent size.
So we began with very simple things, like using two containers for water—one for cleansing brushes, the other for adding fresh water to mix paint. Mixing colors and trying not to create unwanted mud. Surprisingly they were not even in the habit of having rags on hand to use for wiping brushes or wiping off a mark. I teased them that they couldn’t find rags in Kenya—and they get the irony. Yet they have been steadily learning to paint, on their own for the most part, with occasional guest instructors like myself.
Largely they create images entirely from their memory or imagination, some find a photo to use as a reference, very rarely do they paint the world or people directly in front of them. Which meant beyond a few basics about tools and colors, and a couple quick demos, the only viable approach I could use was to encourage them to dive into whatever they wished, and try to guide them toward their goals.
Given the brutal and often unfathomable circumstances most of them have lived through, many carry a degree of trauma that young people in our society rarely experience. I feel my role is to give them skills with the tools and critical thinking, but leave it up to them to choose how or what they want to express through painting.
Some folks have gently asked if a “program” like this, guiding once-impoverished young adults in the discipline of making paintings, is creating a false hope in them about becoming famous and rich (even if only by the modest Kenyan economic standards. It’s a fair question, a variation of which was thorny enough to me long ago, raised in a stable middle class family within a modernized capitalist culture.
My feeling is no — because I emphasize the discipline they are learning, and minimize the fame and selling aspect best I can. I make them aware I’ve worked decades to be able to have sales. Sometimes our differences are in their favor. IE: it’s easy to forget how exciting learning and “schooling” of any kind can be when one has not had the opportunity to be in an educational setting for years, or in some of their cases, ever. They are all eager to improve their skills—so I try to feed that with encouragement, positive critiques, and suggestive questions about their paintings. I mention how often I screw my own work up still, and how I don’t treat anything I am making as precious— it all is subject to my harshest judgment, and I paint over many things all the time.
I particularly enjoy the camaraderie they reveal, and encouraged them to share with one another anything they could can that I them individually. Some already do this, and as many are former “street kids” I’m aware they learned to do this somewhat instinctively to survive. Self-confidence and trust, in their own ability to grow and also to aid one another in developing these skills, is a big part of my aim. I’m not doing this to discover the next Basquiat. (He didn’t end up so well anyway.) I’d much prefer they find a sense of who they are, some community, perhaps some validation, but ultimately some peace through this practice. It has brought me all the above.
Three have gained a good deal of experience. But their life circumstances here often has them walking a borderline. For instance, Patrick, who I enjoyed so much last year, has a keen eye for bold colors and pattern that marks him as a candidate for a career in fabric and textile design. However, some personal things have arisen and he’s not been coming around Alfajiri campus for a few months, so I missed him entirely this trip.
Yusuf is articulate, driven, and a passionate sponge about art (and it seems, everything!). Thanks to Alfajiri’s steadfast support he continues to blossom in all his abilities. I brought some art books this year and he tells me at one point: “I will read every page.” I laugh and tell him, just look at the pictures for now— you have years to make room to read each page! While pursuing his studies in statistics and programming, he always finds room for his art-making. He often takes commissions from friends to hone his skills and “earn small bits from these side gigs.” Yet admit all this passion, he excitedly told me an application he applied for to design some software as part of his studies has been accepted. In addition to sharing his knowledge with the less experienced young men in our group, he’s also sometimes been helping Alfajiri staff with their art therapy sessions with the street kids.
For the first time ever, I finally had a chance to work with Nick. He’s soft-spoken and thoughtful, and through Alfajiri’s help, the mentorship of the owner of a local framing business, and his own hard work, he’s establishing a very solid foundation. Alfajiri and the supportive framer have managed to get him a set of basic tools to do serious framing. From what was a ramshackle mess of a shed, Nick has cleared up two modest spaces, fashioned a decent roof, and made himself two workable rooms to frame paintings for Nairobi artists in his own shop. It’s another amazing transformation by Alfajiri, from a young boy at great risk to a young man focused and resolute in achieving productive, life-sustaining goals.
In addition to framing as a profession, he’s got great potential as a painter. I saw glimmers of a personal direction emerging, and felt it as much by the many excellent questions he asked me! “What if people see this and say it looks like another known artist in Nairobi, should I worry?” “Do I have to do shadows on forms? Sometimes I just like it this way…” I insist that as long as he knows if he’s copying something to learn not rip someone off, or aware when he’s not following rules to try and make something appear photographic, he’ll be fine. Listen to your instincts, you’re on the right track, I sincerely, happily, tell him.
Another four young people are at what I consider “level one” of training in the fledgling “Alfajiri Art Academy.” I got along with each personality very well. [I’m only avoiding listing their names for their own protection.] [I’m only avoiding listing their names for their own protection.] By my final day, one had me talking to another’s girlfriend on the phone; I elicited a round of teen-age howls when I asked her if she was girlfriend number one or number two? I had many good laughs with them all. We’d just begun developing a rapport, making it very hard to recognize I won’t see them again for a year, if that!
One was struggling with a simple landscape to which he’d begun adding details. “What should I do?” he asked (a typical beginner’s question). What do you think? I asked (a typical mentor’s reply). “I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right” What aren’t you happy with? “I’m not sure…” Well, keep trying to answer that, and just work on different areas. We can look again after our lunch. And don’t forget, it’s just paint, you can change every thing about it if you want. You’re the one in control of it.
Just before the break, when I get back to him, I was stunned to see he’s painted out the entire canvas, something I’ve rarely seen any of them do. What happened? I ask. “I just decided it was not going to work and it was better to start all over, “ he tells me proudly. I tell him that getting the details precisely right on the trees he was working on took patience, but painting the whole thing out like this took even greater courage. I can feel it sinking in and catch a faint smile from my side view as he stares at his freshly over-painted canvas.
“Mistakes are always a good thing!” He tells me, glowing — an idea I shared the week before with them all. Why is that? I ask, gently testing him. “Because they mean you are moving forward, seeing something you must fix or can change! You are learning!” Amen, amen! This is precisely how study in the arts impacts lives. I’m confident these once impoverished kids that Alfajiri has steadily guided now at least have a shot.
  |  Top left: Searching for shade in the midday Kenyan sun!; Above: One of Patrick’s wonderful “patttern” paintings; Left: Yusuf at work on a small landscape; Below: An impromptu oil pastel demo Yusuf did at a mural design workshop for kids in the Methare Slum hosted by Alfajiri. |
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