The resources collected here come from public spaces and are constantly changing. Please be aware that some websites may contain adult content such as explicit language.
Please review these resources with a parent or guardian.
Stories
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News &
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Art
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Books
Media
Poetry
Stories
Riley Lockett, 16, Youth Radio
Oakland, Calif.
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About two months ago, I was walking to the BART station from school, sipping on soda and listening to a podcast when I noticed a blue uniform following me like a shadow. It was a white police officer. He scanned me as if he were the Terminator, trying to see if I posed a threat. I had never been stopped by a cop before. But I wasn’t scared or even nervous. I was prepared.
My mother was always gearing me up for something: a good education, future job security and, most of all, institutionalized racism. Every time we passed a police car, she would drill my sister and me on what to do if and when a police officer stops us. We would begrudgingly repeat what our superior said: “Maintain eye contact, stand straight, speak when spoken to, no sudden movements.”
As children, we never understood why she grilled us like that. Then, when I was 12, Trayvon Martin was killed. Even though it wasn’t a cop who killed him, I started to comprehend what she was preparing us for. Although we live in a quiet suburb of Oakland, we are in a city where a police officer is usually seen as more of a threat than a friend. As a young black man, I know an officer of the law can shoot me no matter where I am — and maybe especially in the middle of Orinda, the mostly white city where I was being stopped for the first time.
​So, as the cop was questioning me, I decided to practice what my mom preached.
“Is there a problem, officer?” I asked in my most articulate, mature, but nonviolent voice.
“No. What’s your name?”
“Riley Lockett.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“Where do go to school?”
“Orinda Academy, just up the hill. But I live in Oakland.”
“Do you have ID?”
“Yes, here you go.”
I felt like I was performing a one-man show I’ve been rehearsing my whole life. He eyed my ID, then looked through me while handing it back. He turned on his radio and mumbled some breaker-breaker nonsense into it, and in a few seconds he got a few squawks back.
“You’re free to go,” he said to me in a tone that made it sound like his mind was on something else.
I felt bold enough to ask, “What was the problem, officer?”
“Oh, some guy robbed a convenience store a couple streets over,” he told me. “He fled in this direction, and you matched the description.”
I’ve never had to face the color of my skin in anything but a mirror. So as far as police interactions go, I’d say my first one went pretty well. I know there will be plenty more as I get older.
Having to spend my childhood rehearsing for the day a police officer would pull me over may sound scary. And I’m aware it’s not something parents of all races feel the need to teach their kids. But the day it actually happened, I was grateful, at least, that my mom made sure I was ready.
Marianne Nacanaynay, 15, Youth Radio
Mountlake Terrace, Wash.
Filipina
The first time someone directed a racial slur toward me I was at a pizza place in Everett, a town in western Washington State. One of my friends who works with me on our high school newspaper wanted to get lunch early, and the place was already crowded with a line stretching around the block. I was waiting outside of the restaurant and chatting on the phone when out of the corner of my eye, I saw two dudes walking by. They were young looking — teenagers or 20-somethings — with light skin and blond/brown hair. As they passed me, I heard them laugh and say, “(expletive) chink.”
It took me a few moments to process what I had just heard. I was taken aback, but not exactly surprised. After all, there I was, a Filipina reporter covering a Trump rally.
Washington State tends to be super liberal. We had the first elected married gay mayor of a major American city. We’ve legalized recreational marijuana. Until recently, Republicans I knew here were mostly “in the closet” in the sense they didn’t talk much about their opinions in public. But I’ve learned that doesn’t mean racism doesn’t exist in Washington — it’s just typically a less overt brand of racism.
Growing up, I lived in Auburn, a suburb south of Seattle, and there weren’t a lot of other kids who looked like me. Back then, it didn’t bother me, because I didn’t think too much about race. My family raised me with phrases like “People are people,” and “It’s who you are inside that counts.”
I remember the time I had a white classmate come over to my house for dinner. We served adobo, which is chicken or pork that’s been marinated in soy sauce or vinegar then fried, and ube, a dessert made of purple yam. The girl politely tried everything but mostly pushed the food around the plate. When I asked her about it later, she said the flavors weren’t familiar to her.
Then in sixth grade we moved to Mountlake Terrace, a suburb about 20 minutes north of Seattle with a noticeable Asian population. Being around more Asian friends, I found myself reflecting differently on my interactions with white peers.
I brought a plate of the same adobo to a party, and people loved it. Having people like my culture made me feel more comfortable with it, too.
So, after years of slowly opening myself up to having pride about my race and culture, hearing two boys call me a chink in the middle of a pizza place was a snap back to reality. On the one hand, it was so over-the-top, it was almost comical. I mean, it’s not even the right racial slur, since I’m not Chinese.
Sometimes I think back on that incident, like when I hear about other people being called a racial slur, or when I hear about people harassing others at Trump rallies. And I remember how I felt vulnerable. It’s a reminder that there are some places where I am still considered the “other.”
An African American guy recalls a traumatic experience at a department store in San Francisco about 10 years ago:
I was carrying a lunch box—that was all—tried on two shirts in a fitting room, didn’t like them, left them in the fitting room and left the store. As soon as I set foot out the door, I was tackled to the pavement by two security guards who demanded I return the shirt I took. I yelled that I hadn’t taken anything. They restrained me, spread the contents of my lunch box across the street and then immediately left.
I remember my head craning towards the sky, as if asking the heavens why this was happening to me. I was only twenty—I was actually shopping for my 21st birthday—and extremely embarrassed that I had been assaulted like a criminal in the middle of SF’s financial/fashion district. I felt this odd feeling of shame as random passersby watched me collect my things from the street and return them to my lunchbox.
When I went back into the store and demanded to see a manager, they gave me the runaround, telling me that the security guards were only asking me if I had the shirt. I was told it was useless taking any kind of legal action because I hadn’t been physically harmed. But it’s been over a decade and I’m still terrified of anything like that happening again. I think about it every time I shop for clothes.
Nkauj Lee of Minnesota
My name is Lily Lee or my Hmong name is Nkauj. I'm Hmong-American. My siblings — my younger sister, my older sister and my little brother — we made up basically the Asian student body. You know, at first I didn't really think about it, I just felt it was school. Then the other children started singing songs, and they would make these gestures. They would slant their eyes up and then they would slant it down and then they would pull out their shirts like Christmas trees or breasts and they would sing "Chinese, Japanese, what are these? Christmas trees." And they would do that every single day.
When we're walking they would slant their eyes and say, "Can you see? Can you see?" You know, you're supposed to go to school and you're supposed to feel safe and I didn't feel safe. I felt tormented. Now looking back, I just feel angry. I've never ever spoken about this for the past two and a half decades and so it's really nice to just be able to tell you.
A far more recent story from a reader in central Florida:
(One of the commandments my mother gave me: When I get pulled over, pull over in a populated area so there will be witnesses.) I thought I would email a story later this week. I resumed my work but realized I needed a book I had left at the office. It’s about 20 minutes from my house, so I hopped in the car.
The ride there was smooth, as I listened to the new Jazzy Jeff/Mick Boogie mixtape “Summertime Vol 6.” On the way back, I turned onto an arterial road with a speed limit of 45 MPH. Then I saw a police car trying to ride in what would normally be my blind spot. I figured he was trying to check me for speeding, which I was not. He stayed there for a while, then he got behind me, but kept a good distance. I figured he was running my tags and would find nothing. I stopped at the next light. When the light turned green, his lights went on, joined by another police vehicle that had gotten behind him.
I cross the intersection, still not thinking they will pull me over. At the intersection there’s a gas station. I pull into it and adjacent to the car wash. Both vehicles follow me in. I am 35 and have been pulled over plenty of times. Too many times. I am a vet, so I roll my window down, put the car in park and turn off the engine. One of the officers is yelling commands, so I look in my side view and see that he has his gun drawn.
He yells “Put your right hand out of the window.” I already have both hands out of the window. “Open the door with your right hand.” I go to use my left hand, which would be easier given that he wants me to open my door from the outside. He yells it again. I do it his way. Then he tells me to get out of the car.
I get out, face the officers and ask them “What’s the problem? What’s going on? Why is your gun drawn?” Not given any answers, I’m told to turn around, keep my hands up, use my right hand to lift the collar of my t-shirt to show that I do not have a gun tucked in my waistband. Even though I have been pulled over plenty of times, all of these instructions are starting to sound like a bad Twister game.
Then I’m told to walk backwards. The gun is still pointed at me. Then the pat-down ensues. I ask my same questions. I’m finally told that someone, driving a car like mine, pulled a gun on someone in the neighborhood. The other officer walks to my vehicle. He asks for my ID. My wallet is on my front passenger seat, a fact that the other officer concurs from walking around my car.
We walk up to my car so I can get my ID. I am fuming. I get my wallet and slam my door. “Calm down, I could be worse,” says the other officer. I say, “I’m stopped here. Gun drawn on me. You’re right. I could be shot.” He responds, “You don't understand.” I bite my tongue before I go off. I don’t understand? It’s a Sunday afternoon and here I am standing in a gas station parking lot, with my hands on my head, after having a gun pulled on me and patted down by an officer, all while another officer circled my vehicle with his hand on his weapon. He had a point; I guess the threat of being shot is better than being shot.
The officer says to me, “Do you live around here?” I reply “No.” He’s holding my ID, which has my address printed on it. “Do you have friends and family around here?” “Yes.” “Don’t you want us checking out reports of guns being pulled on people?” I don’t answer. Why respond to stupid stuff like that? He hands me back my ID. I get into my vehicle, turn on my car, A/C, Summertime Vol. 6, check my mirrors and drive out of the gas station.
The path I drive to exit takes me past the two officers and their vehicles. They haven’t left yet. The second officer is leaning into the passenger window of the first officer and they are talking. I guess going to find the “real criminal” driving around in a car like mine isn’t that important.
Maya James, 19, Youth Radio
Traverse City, Mich.
Mixed Race (Black/White)
Shortly after enrolling in kindergarten, one of my classmates threw the N-word at me in a small scuffle. I cannot remember what the little boy was so upset about — it was probably something elementary school students usually get upset about. Maybe I was hogging the markers; maybe I cut in line, or vice versa.
It was the first time I had ever heard that word. I didn’t know how to react. I had many questions. Should I be upset? Could I call the white student the N-word, too? Who invented this word? Do adults use the word?
Before that moment, I had no idea what race was or what class meant. Now I had to grow up.
My teachers tried to intervene — yanking the little boy’s arm and demanding he look in my eyes and “see the pain she feels!” They forced him to stay in and write apology letters during recess in their words, not his. “I should have thought before saying black people are bad,” says one note I’ve kept all these years, “To me, you are a good friend.”
But the letters didn’t stop the name-calling or the rock throwing at recess, at the bus stop or after school.
Back then I had a lot of loud temper tantrums. I was not a picnic for my parents. I cried a lot, I was irritable. That’s when my father — who grew up in Longview, Tex., at the height of Jim Crow politics — started talking to me about race. After my teachers told him about the incident, he had no choice; he had to teach his 5-year-old daughter the tragic story of African genocide and white supremacy that was the American slave trade.
My dad’s struggle and the struggle of his parents were now rubbing off on me at such a young age. No longer a little girl in the suburbs, but a descendant of people considered cattle. No reparations.
I remember thinking: This is unfair! What did I do to be born black?
Traverse City, Mich., is 94 percent white. So it’s no wonder I felt alone growing up as a half-black, half-white little kid.
I am biracial, but in the United States, more often than not, I am always going to be labeled a person of color. I constantly have to choose between one side of my culture and the other — always seeking a greater identity. I feel like a puzzle piece that got lost, always trying to find some way to fit.
From an African American in Atlanta:
“In 1982, when I was 13 years old, I wanted to go to a comic book store in a section of Brooklyn called Canarsie. At the time Canarsie was ethnic white working class. I got off at the bus stop and started walking to the comic book store. A car stopped and a man got out and yelled at me to get out of his neighborhood. I distinctly remember him telling me, “If I came to your neighborhood I would be jumped.”
As I walked away I turned back to look at him going into his car to get a stick or some kind of blunt instrument. I realized then that he wanted to make sure I never came back to his neighborhood again. He chased me down the street. While running I saw an elderly white woman and her black caretaker sitting outside. I ran towards them and the man turned around and walked away.“
As a black male student at Indiana University in Bloomington from 2011 to ‘13, I encountered many instances of bigotry—from students slowing down purposefully to prevent me from walking behind them to my Caucasian friend’s obsession with the word nigga and his suggestion that I should cut my fro because it was “nappy.”
The most overt display of racism directed at me occurred on my way back home from class. As I strolled along the sidewalk, a car with four white males slowly drove past. Through a slightly cracked window from the back seat, one of them quickly blurted “nigger” with the intention of not having to stop. Unfortunately for him, they encountered a mini traffic jam in front of a parking garage. Enraged, I continued to walk forward, then abruptly turned around to confront the heckler. He rolled his window up in panic as I approached the car. I asked him to repeat what he had just said only to receive a puzzled shrug. Being left with no other choice but to contain myself, I made my way back home defeated and angered that I did not retaliate in a way that I deemed fulfilling.
News and Articles
More:
"White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack"
George Floyd, Racism and Law Enforcement
Table Talk: Family Conversations about Current Events
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NYTimes Race Section
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Great articles and essays by the world's best journalists and writers
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History
The linked spreadsheet contains a huge amount of resources. Please look these over with a parent as the department has not been able to review each listing.
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How Black Lives Matter moved from a hashtag to a real political force
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Smithsonian African American Museum
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Google Arts and Culture *search Racism
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American Indian Boarding Schools
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Media
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PBS Black in Latin America Henry Louis Gates, Jr. uncovers Latin America’s African roots in this four-part series.
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Daisy Bates: First Lady of Little Rock Documentary on the life of Daisy Bates, best know for her role with the Little Rock Nine.
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Ruby Bridges The true story of Ruby Bridges, the six-year-old girl who helped to integrate the all-white schools in New Orleans.
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13th Ava DuVernay’s in-depth look at the prison system in the United States and how it reveals the nation’s history of racial inequality.
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Brother Outsider: The Life of Bayard Rustin Documentary about the life of peace, labor, and civil rights activist Bayard Rustin.
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Intersectionality 101 Learn about intersectionality with this student-friendly video from Teaching Tolerance.
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All God’s Children A political, social, and religious analysis of sexual orientation within the context of the traditional African American values of freedom, inclusion, and the Christian ethic.
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Hidden Figures Based on the story of three African-American women working at NASA who served as the brains behind the launch into orbit of astronaut John Glenn.
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Eyes on the Prize A comprehensive fourteen-part documentary history of the Civil Rights Movement.
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Sylvia Woods: “You Have to Fight for Freedom” Dramatic reading of an interview with Sylvia Woods, a pioneer in the struggle of African-American and women trade unionists, who describes why she decided not to sing the “Star Spangled Banner” at school in 1919 when she was 10 years old.
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What Happened, Miss Simone? Using never-before-heard recordings, rare archival footage and her best-known songs, this is the story of legendary singer and activist Nina Simone.
Nichols, Mackenzie. “Trevor Noah Addresses George Floyd Death, Decries Police 'Looting Black Bodies'.” Variety, Variety, 2 June 2020, variety.com/2020/tv/news/trevor-noah-george-floyd-death-police-protests-1234623066/.
Ted. “TED Talks to Help You Understand Racism in America.” TED Talks, www.ted.com/playlists/250/talks_to_help_you_understand_r.
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Music
Songs about civil rights, racial equality and a quest for equality to use as a reference:
“Follow The Drinking Gourd” (1910/1928)
(sung to signify the way north in escaping the oppression of slavery)
“Strange Fruit”
(Billie Holiday & Abel Meeropol,1939)
Haunting protest song about the inhumanity of racism
“Deportee” (Woody Guthrie,1948)
(written in honor of 32 Mexican immigrants lost in a plane crash)
“We Shall Overcome” (Pete Seeger, 1960)
(gospel song that became the best known anthem of the civil rights movement)
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“Blowing in the Wind” (Bob Dylan, 1962)
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“A Change is Gonna Come” (Sam Cooke, 1964)
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“The Revolution Will Not Be Televised “ (Gil Scott-Heron, 1971)
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“Biko" (Peter Gabriel,1980)
(an anti-apartheid protest song)
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“Killing In The Name” (Rage Against The Machine,1991)
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“Black Rage” (Lauryn Hill, 2014)
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“Formation” (Beyonce, 2016)
(Please note: explicit lyrics)
This is America (Childish Gambino, 2018)
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Art
Nick Cave
Kehinde Wiley
Carrie Mae Weems
Kara Walker
These are contemporary American artists- artists that are working now.
Charlotte Allignham- Zines, illustration, comics
Alexandra Bell- text, counter narratives about race in the media
Shane’e Benjamin- Graphic design, advertising, branding, art direction
Sanford Biggers-Installation, conceptual, sculpture, Ethnography
Mark Bradford - mixed media, large installations, urbanism and history
Kevin Beasley-sculpture, found objects, installation and sound art
Iona Brown- Illustration and comics, Ukiyo printmaking, race and identity
Bisa Butler- figurative, quilts, fiber artist
Nick Cave- Sculpture and Kinetic Art, Identity, beauty, sound, costume
Tawny Chapman- Photographer, Black hair, beauty and femininity
Michael Chukes- figurative sculpture, Black female beauty
Sonya Clarke- Sculptor, performance, textiles, hair, and representation
Willie Cole- Sculpture, Photo, printmaking, power and ancestry
Njideka Akunyili Crosby (Nigeri)- Figurative, identity
Angelica Dass (Brazilian)- photo, skin color, identity
Abigail DeVille - Sculpture/Installation, forgotten places and marginalized people
Patrick Dougher- mixed media, sacred-inspired Icons
Latoya Ruby Frasier- photo, video- environmental justice, industrialism, communal history
Theaster Gates - installation, urban, social/community-centered art
Thelma Golden- Fashion, Photography, Curator
Trenton Doyle Hancock- storytelling, fiction, illustration, mythology
Ronald Jackson- Painter, portraits, identity
Rashid Johnson- conceptual, performance, Black identity, race and class, cultural boundaries
Titus Kaphur-conceptual, race, inclusion and representation in art history
Simone Leigh- ceramics, figurative
Glenn Ligon- text, literature, race, storytelling and inclusion
Whitfield Lovell- mixed media, portraiture, ancestry and storytelling
Kerry James Marshall- race, history, narratives of Black experience
Delita Martin- Print-making, empowerment,story, and beauty of Black women
Wangari Mathenge - figurative painting, expressionistic
Infi Nerdy -photography, identity, incarceration
Komi Olaf- Afrofuturism, portraiture
Ebony Patterson- Tapestry, textiles, violence and brutality, and victimization
Adam Pendelton- Installation and text, “Black Dada”
Robert Pruitt- Drawing, Afrofuturism, beauty, Black bodies and experiences
Michael Ray Charles- media, black representation in advertising
Deborah Roberts- Figurative, collage, black beauty and empowerment
Harmonia Rosales- Black female empowerment, references religious iconography
Allison Saar- Black culture and African ancestry, power, gender
Lorna Simpson- photography, mixed-media, culture, memory, representation
Tylon Sawyer - Figurative painter, Black justice, police brutality, history
Dread Scott- installation, performance, Anti-colonialism, race and visual culture
Amy Sherald- Figurative, identity, beauty
Alisa Sikelianos-Carter- Afrofuturism, identity and braids
Curtis Talwst Santiago- (Canadian) miniature dioramas- violence and protest
Michelene Thomas- figurative, art-history remix, glitter!
Stephen Towns- Black History, quilting, storytelling
Dareece Walker - Black fatherhood, incarceration, police brutality
Kara Walker- racism, colonialism, difficult and complex history
Nari Ward – sculptor, installation, consumer culture, poverty, and race
Carrie Mae Weems -- photographer (B&W), power/authority/empowerment, feminism
Kehinde Wiley- painting, representation in art history, power, the human figure
Hank Willis Thomas- advertising, capitalism, race and visual culture
Fred Wilson- conceptual, anti-colonialism, museum representation
Kah Yangni- illustration, social justice advertising
Yung Yemi- African identity, Afrofuturism, portraiture
Betye Saar-conceptual, race, history, assemblage, time based media
Black Lives Matter coloring book
Artist Ellen Gallagher:
Artsy page - https://www.artsy.net/artist/ellen-gallagher
Collage work around black hair and beauty and the pressures to society puts on black women to conform to white beauty norms, Afrofuturism, and other issues surrounding her identity as a black woman.
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As with all artist websites, please be aware that adult content may be present.
Review with a parent or guardian.
Books
Books available for check out from the Mt Everett Library
Also, please see library website for options for accessing ebooks
Books (Middle School)
Fiction
The Crossover by Kwame Alexander
The Absolutely True Diary of a Part time Indian by Sherman Alexie
Bud, not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis
The Watsons go to Birmingham by Chritopher Paul Curtis
Inside Out and Back Again by Thanhha Lai
All the Stars Denied by Guadalupe Garcia McCall
Look Both Ways by Jason Reynolds
Ninth Ward by Jewell Parker Rhodes
Flygirl by Sherri L. Smith
One Crazy Summer by Rita Williams-Garcia
Brown Girl Dreaming by Jaqueline Woodson
After Tupac & D Foster by Jacqueline Woodson
Books (High School)
YA Fiction
Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo
Solo by Kwame Alexander
The Secret Life of Bees (adult) by Sue Monk Kidd
The Music of What Happens by Bill Konigsburg
X: A Novel by Ilyasah Shabazz, Kekla Magoon
Out of the Darkness by Ashley Holt Perez
All American Boys by Jason Reynolds
Trouble by Gary D. Schmidt
Dear Martin by Nic Stone
This Time Will be Different by Misa Sugiura
The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
On the Come Up by Angie Thomas
Black and White by Paul Volponi
Piecing Me Together by Renee Watson
The Underground Railroad (adult) by Colson Whitehead
Under the Meth Moon by Jaqueline Woodson
Frankly in Love by David Yoon
Non-Fiction
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
Race by Marc Aronson
Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates
Were were Eight Years in Power by Ta-Nehisi Coates
Go tell it to the Mountain by James Baldwin
Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin
Black liberation and the American dream : the struggle for racial and economic justice : analysis, strategy, readings edited by Paul LeBlanc
The Audacity of Hope : Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream by Barack Obama
The fire this time : a new generation speaks about race, edited by Jesmyn Ward
Graphic Novels
Kindred by Octavia Butler
Hot Comb by Ebony Flowers
New Kid by Jerry Kraft
March series by John Lewis
I Am Alfonso Jones, by Tony Medina, Stacey Robinson & John Jennings
Persepolis by Margi Satrapi
Maus by Art Speigelman
The Best We Could Do by Thi Bui
American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang
Featured Booklists for Middle and High School
Books donated by publishers for the 2020 Black Lives Matter at School Week of Action
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Poetry
Creative Mediums
Creative Writing
Graphic Novels
Create a podcast
Video/Animation
Photography
Painting/Drawing
Sculpture
Music
Creative Writing
PROJECT
Use creative writing as a response to the resources we have provided or you own ideas about racial inequality.
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You might write:
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a poem
an essay
a fictional/non fictional story
a letter to someone
a letter to a government official
verbiage for a protest sign
Create a Podcast
PROJECT
• Share your unique voice about racial inequality topics and create a podcast to share with your community.
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Creating a Podcast - Tips from NPR
Photography
PROJECT
• Create a photograph which illustrates a story or narrative of your choosing.
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• Create a photograph or series of photographs as a reaction to the research and ideas you have learned about racial inequality.
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Sculpture
PROJECT
Create a sculpture as your response to the resources provided.
Sculptors primarily use four basic techniques. The processes are either subtractive (material is removed or carved out) or additive (material is added).
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Carving: Carving involves cutting or chipping away a shape from a mass of stone, wood, or other hard material. Carving is a subtractive process whereby material is systematically eliminated from the outside in.
Casting: Sculptures that are cast are made from a material that is melted down—usually a metal—that is then poured into a mold. The mold is allowed to cool, thereby hardening the metal, usually bronze. Casting is an additive process.
Modeling: Modeled sculptures are created when a soft or malleable material (such as clay) is built up (sometimes over an armature) and shaped to create a form. Modeling is an additive process.
Assembling: Sculptors gather and join different materials to create an assembled sculpture. Assembling is an additive process.
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Graphic Novels
PROJECT
Create a graphic novel (a whole novel may be a challenge...try a spread or two) to illustrate a story of your choosing.
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Be mindful of the connotation of traditional graphic novels or comics. Be sure that the content of the story matches the tone of your illustrations.
Video/Animation
PROJECT
Create a video or animation to illustrate a story of your choosing.
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Painting/Drawing
PROJECT
Create a painting or drawing to illustrate your chosen story.
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OR
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create a painting or drawing as a response to any of the resources we have provided or your own reaction to racial inequality.
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Resources:
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Foundational Art (Elements and Principles) Exercises
Practice your drawing skills! Knowledge and practicing the E & P will allow you to better communicate your visual art.
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While it may be difficult to complete a mural at home, consider learning about mural art and preparing for a potential future project. Brainstorm ideas, solidify your message, sketch ideas for imagery and composition, and create a drawing with a specific location in mind.
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The 2020 theme is diversity. Complete a hexagon to be displayed as part of a group exhibit.
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Artists as activists:
Roberto Lugo (graffiti artist turned potter)
Ai Wei Wei (Mixed Media, Installation)
Dread Scott (Performance Art)
Shepard Fairey (street art)
Tania Bruguera (Performance Art)
Banksy (Graffiti Art)
Music
PROJECT
Throughout history, music has been a way to express feelings and important ideas, to make a difference and to offer solace as well as hope for a better world. With that in mind, we invite you to participate in this summer project in music using one of several options.