I want to begin with thoughts about what images you will see in this ISSUE. It’s sometimes difficult to imagine that the place that is The Studio now has not always been the way it is now. In fact, The Studio is kind of a chameleon, changing colors without changing shape.
The facility changed three times in our history, and each offered the potential for growth. Our birthplace was at 1076 Neches and Milam — small and infinitely hot or cold, depending on the season. We were usually three months past due on rent, had three studio spaces, a gallery and, yes, a darkroom, which was more like a big plastic bag in the back room. We mixed our own clay and sold it to schools delivered in my old 65 Chevy pickups.
We had a continuous parade of children for classes and school visits, as the room filled with noise and laughter and delighted teachers. It was then that I realized that we were more than a place for artists, we were a new community that had the opportunity to change, in a small way, the lives of people.
We had an old manual typewriter my Aunt Marietta used at Texas Coffee Co. that was our source for formal letters, and all labels and mailings addresses were handwritten by a special crew of volunteers with good handwriting. The invites and large mailings were typeset and copied at Triangle Blueprint, who are still our printer today — and, yes, back then, we owed them money, too.
Our shift to the White House gave us the opportunity to have legit studio spaces, 18 if I recall correctly. Here we expanded to offer local bands a venue to play. Terri Fox was the driving force and, what I now know were Raves, gave us the income we were looking for.
We continued to have large groups of children come in for workshops and I was travelling to local schools under the Arts Related Curriculum program for BISD under Bonnie Madden and Millie Hartel where, for six years, I went to all schools and demonstrated pottery with a message of trying new things, perseverance and, most importantly, to never give up.
I still get tapped on the shoulder and am met with a person in their 40s who asks if I ever did pottery in their 4th-grade class. On affirming that I did, I ask, “What do you remember?” and they always say, “Don’t give up.” It is important to note that we all have the ability to offer our children encouragement. I am honored to have that demonstrated to me through people who remember that crazy hippie guy with the long ponytail.
Our untragic final destination is 720 Franklin, where all the knowledge from our past experiences came together to grow in this amazing facility. Bandnites have become a regular monthly event for originating musicians for the past 26 years. Eighteen oversized studio spaces and a bi-level gallery present the full spectrum of artists in age and skill, as we have no age limit on participants.
This history of inclusion, support and presentation are a formula we can and do live by. We have offered a blank canvas and the community of artists responded by filling it with color and shape.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention some people who are helping in an amazing way. Grantors EDAREN foundation, Foundation for Southeast Texas and Hancock-Whitney support projects on all levels at The Art Studio.
Also, a big thank you to all the people who have supported TASI through the years, some tougher than others. Our public support is the kind that keeps our doors open and our programs running, and, yes, keep our small staff from becoming smaller. All these sources make us able to maintain operations and activities, and allow us to up our game, raise our bar and see beyond the horizon (enough with the metaphors).
As we grow, with your help, we can continue to influence young and not so young people to find pleasure in the arts and seek the joy it can provide.
By Greg Busceme, TASI director