The Good News at 6:14 a.m.

The excitement and the work rattled my bones awake this morning. Again. I walked up to my Studio to get some work done, to meditate, and hopefully soon, to get more than 4 hours of sleep. Before beginning my journey back to bed I checked the DCA Box Office for the number of tickets available to the Vet Art Project performance this Monday. Two days ago the DCA Theater staff offered us the magnificent venue of Preston Bradley Hall because we sold out the maximum number of seats that would fit in the Studio Theater space (99). Two days ago the set up of 200 seats showed 99 were available. Yesterday it hovered around 60-seats remaining. Now, at this early morning hour, there are 34 seats remaining. The word is spreading. The people are coming. We will have a fine and large community gather together to witness the stories.

I'm so proud of all of us--the veterans, the artists, the community members who have gathered together over the past month to witness the stories of those who serve us in the armed forces. We gather in their name. We gather in our name. We gather together to remember those we have lost and to honor those we are fighting not to lose. This is testament to people waking up and realizing that war affects us all and it the warriors who will lead us to peace if we give them our time and attention. We are a community. And we are growing ever stronger. Now I can hear the drums calling us not to war, but to peace. Now.

My Dad's Stories, Contributed by Dani Brzozowski

My dad and I only rarely have fruitful conversations. When we do, they're frequently, morbidly, pragmatically, about his mortality, and the steps I (and my expert opinion--honed from WebMD and Reader's Digest) suggest to delay said mortality. It is out of the ordinary for us to discuss much beyond the trans fat content of a bag of pretzels. I occasionally call him out on his erratic behavior, and even more occasionally, he responds with less an explanation of the cause of his behavior and more a reminder that he loves my mother, he loves me, etc.

He knows he has PTSD and we all know, too. But none of us knows what it means for him or for any of us. It's less an elephant in the room and more the room itself, all of us living in it, unsure of ourselves, in the cavernous confines, echoing space PTSD opens up.

Dad has been a soldier ever since I can remember and, as his retirement draws near (he swears this time it's for real, this time he won't chicken out), he's turned reflective, opening up in a way that is at once fascinating and uncomfortable.

His stories are my stories, and hearing these stories is essential--it's how I build out my personal history, the sage of my family. As a writer, being denied these stories has always pained me. I (selfishly) thought it was unfair for them to be withheld, thought he was being cruel by keeping from me the secrets that I thought held the key to his identity and subsequently my own.

Working with the Vet Art Project gave me the opportunity to confront some of those secrets, to discover things about my DAd I didn't know. It gave me a chance to have a fruitful, honest conversation with him , and it forced me to be honest with myself. His stories do not belong to me. They belong to him and him alone, and I know now that this, not selfishness, not cruelty, is why he hasn't shared them before.

I know there are hundreds of secrets he clings to, dozens he'll probably never let go of, but I'm grateful to have witnessed the stories he's been willing to share, and I'll continue to keep my ears perked up, just in case he decides to share again.

Midway Reflections

The Vet Art Project is about midway through our time in the Studio Theater and the gifts are many. Some incredible things are happening. Connections among the veterans are being built and between veterans and artists, between veterans and those who are still active in their service. Decades may separate the veterans yet many elements of their journeys are the same: estrangement from self, from others, a shattered self, the loss of one's soul. We paint it, we draw it, we create collages based on it, we discuss it, we write about it. The artists are learning a great deal, too, and we share it and will continue to share it, as we receive the blessings of community and connection. This experience has changed the lives of many--not just the veterans but the artists as well.

We look forward to sharing the results with the wider community at the performance on 2.23 @ 7:30 p.m. followed by a talkback.

Amazing Moments in the Vet Art Project

As the first week of the Vet Art Project draws near, we have shared many moments of great insight and witnessed many precious jewels revealed. I invite you to add your favorites here. Here's my list so far:

--The reverent silence of the artists the first night when Bob and John from Dryhootch.org opened up and shared their life journeys and their challenges with PTSD.

--Hearing two male combat veterans thank another female veteran for her service, off the field of combat, and letting her know that her service was equally as valuable.

--Witnessing the stories of two combat veterans, whose experiences are separated by 40 years, yet their journeys back are similar.

--A female veteran opening up to share her story with a reporter while she made a collage in words and pictures

[The pictured image was created by Christina Reddington, RN, the facilitator of the Picture Stories of War program.]

First Night Reflections--on last Tuesday

The artists' orientation began the Vet Art Project with nearly 40 artists sharing different stories and reasons for getting involved in the project. The room felt electric yet vast, widened by our various journeys to this place and time. Yet when Bob and John, two Vietnam Veterans began to share their stories of time lost and challenges they've faced due to PTSD, and how they were saved because of the kindness and support of family members and friends, we came together as one community. We gather to bare witness to these truths, to help strengthen these voices, to create art to express these feelings and realities. We realized we gathered for one purpose: to support our veterans in their truth by bringing these stories to the community and connect us all by how we are affected by war.

Vet Art Project & Chicago Dramatists Receives the Towner Award by the Illinois Humanities Council

The Towner Award is presented annually to an IHC project, to encourage risk-taking in the development and execution of a public humanities project. In the past venture and risk-taking have been demonstrated through new formats, unusual venue, use or imaginative interpretation of the humanities disciplines not usually integrated into public humanities programs, or through an attempt to reach an audience not usually associated with the humanities. The Towner Award was created by the IHC Board of Directors in 1985 in memory of a past chairman, Lawrence W. Towner.

Vet Art Project Time Is Almost Here! Schedule of Programs Announced

Hello Friends,

February is almost here and that means its time to create art, community, and more in the Studio Theater of the Chicago Cultural Center. Please see the full calendar of events listed at www.vetartproject.com. The link to see or print out the schedule is in the upper right hand corner of the first page of that Web site. Note some programs require an advance registration and some programs are open to the public.

Thanks for all your support, care, and kind words. We are making a difference!