海角大神

鈥淚 have found that the broken spaces are my living canvas,鈥澛燳eh says. 鈥淚n our brokenness, our hearts reach for beauty.鈥澛�

Lily Yeh was home in Philadelphia, between聽planes 鈥� back from Palestine, en route to Taiwan 鈥撀� and yet she was practically bubbling over.听She was infused with energy because she was聽doing what she does best: using art to bring about聽healing, self-empowerment, and social change.听

Yeh is the founder of 鈥� and force behind 鈥� ,聽an organization that revitalizes neighborhoods around聽the globe through the transformative power of art. In Palestine,聽that meant working with villagers to create a wall聽mural that Yeh calls 鈥淭he Palestinian Tree of Life.鈥� In China,聽it meant transforming a once imposing, prison-like school聽into a bright and brilliant place for learning. In Rwanda, it聽meant helping people heal the still-raw wounds left from聽that country鈥檚 genocide with a memorial to the lost.

In each of the locations, Barefoot Artists collaborates with聽locals, joining with them to create something beautiful or聽soothing or enlightening. As Yeh sees it, she is igniting the聽light of creativity that rests in all people.

鈥淢y message is that your light is as bright as mine. It鈥檚聽like sunlight. There鈥檚 no difference. You just need to have聽it lit,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not about just me. It鈥檚 about a lot of聽people, working together.听

鈥淭he project has to take root in people鈥檚 minds, emotions,聽and hearts. How do you do that? By working with them, by聽listening to them, by opening my heart. And when I have聽the space to listen, they usually open their hearts and share聽something and then we have the deep bonding and we can聽do something meaningful together.鈥�

, a documentary about Yeh that will be聽released next year, showcases these projects. The film reveals聽how Yeh鈥檚 journey led from the search for healing from her聽own brokenness to the healing of brokenness in others.听And the result of that journey, says Tom Kaiden, president聽of the Greater Philadelphia Cultural Alliance, has shown the world 鈥渉ow art can help tackle really difficult social and economic issues.鈥�

Making Whole What is Broken

Yeh is 70, yet she seems at least 20 years younger. She is a petite woman, about five feet tall, but she has a larger presence, seeming to fill a room with her positive energy. When talking about her work, she jokes that 鈥淭his old girl did something good.鈥�

But it鈥檚 hard to think of her as old. She still scurries up precarious ladders to paint, still enthuses about her projects, her hands waving in the air as she speaks. Recently, on a trip to Rwanda, villagers gave her a chief鈥檚 staff, a sign of respect. They said she could use it when she gets old and needs help walking.

Born in China but raised in Taiwan, Yeh credits her parents with encouraging her creative side. 鈥淚 owe everything to them,鈥� she says.

Her childhood also set the stage for her later drive. Her father had three children from another marriage as well as the five children he had with Yeh鈥檚 mother. For years, the two families existed in totally separate worlds. Yeh talked about an unspoken pain she felt when she was growing up but could not quite name.

鈥淢y work is about finding what is broken and turning it into whole. This endeavor to make things whole may have derived from my life鈥檚 desire to bring the two families together into one,鈥� she says.

When Yeh was 15, she began studying traditional Chinese landscape painting. She loved it, but she recognized its main drawback: She was copying the works of her teachers and other masters, not creating her own. In her book聽Awakening Creativity, she compared it to having her feet bound.

Her creative awakening came after she moved to the United States in 1963 to study painting at the University of Pennsylvania鈥檚 Graduate School of Fine Arts. She found the art scene there to be wild and experimental.

鈥淚 felt transported from the wispy and idyllic art world of the past into the volatile and powerful new reality of the twentieth century,鈥� she writes in聽Awakening Creativity.听

鈥淐oming in contact with modern art in America shook to the core my understanding of art, its purpose, value, and relationship to society.鈥�

So even though her teachers in Taiwan lamented her creative transformation, Yeh blossomed. She began teaching at Philadelphia鈥檚 University of the Arts, eventually becoming a tenured professor.

Still, she says, her work didn鈥檛 finally mature, didn鈥檛 find its center, until 1986, when she began working on what would eventually become the Village of Arts and Humanities in a tough pocket of North Philadelphia.

Years later, people would tell her she saved the neighborhood. Yeh sees it differently: 鈥淚 was the one being helped in the most profound way,鈥� she says.

Vision Amid the Desolation

North Philadelphia is marred, not only by empty, overgrown lots and decrepit buildings, but also by drug dealing and more serious crimes.

While Yeh saw potential, the local children called her 鈥渢he crazy Chinese lady.鈥�

But when they saw her working on a lot in their neighborhood, they grew curious and drew closer. Soon she had them, and their once-suspicious parents, working on cleaning lots, creating mosaics and murals, building benches, and planting trees. A neighborhood transformation had begun. It would continue for years, eventually encompassing more than 200 lots.

鈥淭here she was, in this place that was so extraordinarily abandoned and desolate, but she had a vision,鈥� says Jeremy Nowack, president and CEO of the philanthropic William Penn Foundation. 鈥淚 always loved the metaphor that she used the existing rubble and abandonment to make something beautiful. She鈥檚 someone who has made the city into a canvas.鈥�

The Village of Arts and Humanities eventually developed into a nonprofit organization with everything from after-school and theater programs to home refurbishment initiatives. Some see it as a national model for neighborhood revitalization.

Yeh loved the work. But after 18 years, she was ready for a new challenge.

鈥淚 wanted to bring the gift of beauty to true broken and traumatized places in the world,鈥� she says. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 why I started Barefoot Artists.鈥�

And while she鈥檚 no longer at the Village, she鈥檚 left behind her legacy.

鈥淎s Philadelphia deals with these hard economic times, many of us are looking at Lily鈥檚 projects to spark new ideas and find new ways that we can use art to empower communities, bring people together, and transform lives,鈥� Kaiden says.

Art as Shared Prosperity

Barefoot Artists is a bare-bones operation. Whereas the Village at one time had a budget of more than $1 million, Barefoot Artists gets by on about $75,000. It is a largely volunteer organization. It has no office or paid staff.

鈥淎lthough we are very small, we deliver so much,鈥� Yeh says. 鈥淲e collaborate and utilize the resources and expertise of volunteering individuals and organizations.鈥�

Once, when Yeh was building the Village of Arts and Humanities, a neighborhood resident asked her why she was 鈥減ouring money into the ground鈥� when there were real problems like AIDS and drug abuse in the community.

Yeh said it was a tough question, but a fair one. Her answer? 鈥淚 can鈥檛 solve these huge social problems, but I can open up new possibilities and spaces where, through creativity and working together, we might come to new solutions.鈥�

And Barefoot Artists has shown it鈥檚 not just about painting or art workshops. In Rwanda, it鈥檚 launched many innovative programs, including job training in sewing and basket weaving, and a Saturday arts program for children. It has also started a system of microcredit lending which provides community adults, especially women, with money to start their own businesses and to buy livestock.

When Yeh first went to Rwanda seven years ago, the Rugerero survivors鈥� village of 100 families where she focused her work only had two water taps and no electricity. She obtained grants and partnered with others, including Engineers Without Borders, to bring the village water, sanitation, and solar power.

鈥淚t isn鈥檛 just the beauty of the artwork,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t really is a shared prosperity. Not the Wall Street prosperity, not the capitalist prosperity but simply a shared prosperity for all villagers.鈥�

The Palestine trip, Yeh said, was one of the most challenging projects she鈥檚 ever undertaken. There were political tensions beyond her control. At one point, she worried about completing her mission.

Yet she persevered. And she left behind a transformative piece of art, covering one wall outside a girls鈥� school with a mural that so moved residents that they could only say, 鈥淏eautiful, beautiful鈥� as they beheld it. The design features an ancient olive tree bursting with huge flowers surrounded by doves of peace in a star-filled night sky. It was inspired by the stories and images that emerged from the workshops she had with residents. Yeh completed the painting with the help of locals and volunteers.

鈥淚t鈥檚 a new kind of empowerment. People鈥檚 minds are opened to new possibilities and affirmation,鈥� Yeh says.

She worked with a local leader and left behind resources so that the new creative energy released in the refugee camp can continue to inspire people to take positive action in their struggle for justice and human dignity. Already, others have requested that someone beautify their buildings 鈥� and their lives 鈥� with the bright colors brought by Lily Yeh.

鈥淲hen I see people鈥檚 lives transformed for the better, it gives me deep fulfillment,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t makes my life meaningful.鈥澛�

鈥� Natalie Pompilio聽wrote this article for聽, the Winter 2012 issue of YES! Magazine. Natalie Pompilio is a freelance writer based in Philadelphia. She is the co-author of "" (Temple University Press, 2008) and her work appeared in "Best Newspaper Writing 2006" (Poynter Institute).

鈥� appeared first online at .

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