The Power of Art

​On August 20, 2017, the spoken word poet Stanley Spencer narrated his verse while standing next to my tea bowls nestled  on the forest floor at The Mount in Lenox, Massachusetts. Stan was invited to create a work of art out of one of the SculptureNow pieces installed at the historic site. I’m honored that he chose mine.

Family Secrets

We say we didn’t know.
I put on my favorite halo 
and grip the stone in my hand 
as I stand to launch invective
and I’m selective about my aim.
A glass house of secrets
swept under a carpet of fear
streaking the squeaking
transparency and the 
inherency of Shh! ‘mums the word.’
Some art is like that.
Yellow bowls of ceramic
displayed panoramic
in bold dynamic
speaking a tale so graphic
its truth is almost telepathic. 
Some art is like that.
Some art makes you laugh.
You don’t know what it 
means but it makes you laugh.
Some art makes you cry.
You don’t know what it 
means but it makes you cry.
Some art is like that.
Yellow ceramic tea bowls along 
a pathway in the woods.  
Tea bowls that have been on 
the steps of the supreme court. 
Tea bowls that have lined the 
walls of Four Freedoms Park 
on Roosevelt Island in NYC
Tea bowls on exhibit at the 
Mount in the woods along a 
path of dark secrets, 
secrets like family secrets, 
where if a people fall, 
there is no sound.
Some art is like that.
Along this path there are 
120 yellow ceramic tea bowls 
like a do-not-cross 
yellow-tape, a yellow-tape 
directive that struggles 
to be so protective 
of something we really 
should know.
Some art is like that.
75 years ago, a president
signed Executive Order #9066.
That same President  
said that we would enjoy 
freedom from fear
That same President  
issued #9066 ordering the military
to establish exclusion 
areas in the United States.
And if you were a Japanese American
or of Japanese descent, you knew 
exactly what exclusion areas meant.
Some presidents are like that.
In crises, wisdom becomes narrow 
and words like yellow peril conjure 
up the devil as we become amoral.
120,000 people of Japanese descent
rounded up and forcefully sent to be 
processed and rubber stamped without trial, trucked and
railroaded to one of ten concentration camps.
Concentration camps.
In the United States.
Some countries are like that.
At the same time Hitler was rounding 
up Jews and forcefully sending them 
to concentration camps, 
the United States was at war with 
Hitler because he was rounding 
up Jews and forcefully sending them 
to concentration camps. How was caging Japanese Americans
justified?  
An editor regretfully tried as he editorialized, “A viper is
nonetheless a viper wherever the egg is hatched — so a Japanese
American, born of Japanese parents — grows up to be 
a Jap, not an American.”
Some media are like that.
45 years ago, a substitute teacher
took a look at her class and
opened a book to her class
that spoke of #9066 orders of degradation. Two boys in the room
said the United States would never
allow such unjust incarceration. 
If it’s true, she would know.
And they both pointed at
their classmate Setsuko.
Setsuko had never heard this story and could neither verify nor
deny.
All she could do was bow
her head and cry.

She had lived in
a glass house of secrets
swept under a carpet of fear
streaking the squeaking
transparency and the 
inherency of Shh! ‘mums the word.’
Setsuko has now created
The Yellow Bowl Project,
first installed at each of
the ten concentration camps 
and now around the world.
On the 75th anniversary of 9066
Martin Bowler spoke and said,
I recall as a young teenager in California standing with my parents
and hundreds of others as train 
after train of frightened Japanese 
rolled by.  We stood there in 
silence and did nothing.
Some people are like that.
I take off my halo and drop
the stone from my hand as I 
stand to tell a story and say 
I’m sorry and red with shame.  
And we are all to blame and 
cannot say we do not know.
We have the yellow of wisdom,
the tranquility of tea,
brought to us in 120 ceramic bowls.
Some art is like that.

Stan Spencer
08-20-2017

Stan Spencer is a retired school administrator. He is a frequent participant in the Word by Word Festival based out of Pittsfield, MA, and has qualified annually in their story and poetry slam finals. He has been fortunate enough to have performed in bookstores, pubs, galleries, art centers, museums, and of course, a barber shop. Part of the process that his poetry deserves is that it should be read aloud. Several times. Speak it aloud as if you were preparing to read in front of a noisy group with their arms folded, just daring you to read poetry to them. Play with the timing. Don’t rush it. Get the arms going. Have fun. The poem will let you know when you get it right. Stan lives in Lenox, MA with his wife Jan, who is his editor, mentor, censor, and interpretive coach. She does not take criticism of his work lightly.