Paying it Forward

For as long as I can afford to do so, I want to keep money out of the equation for this 1000 Cranes for Alaska project. This has been able to go so far and do so much already with only the inspiration and willingness of people to participate in our story, and I have been making the continual executive decision to keep the money out and fuel this project solely with participants' good will and spirits of cooperation. 

This may not be possible forever, I recognize, but for now I'm able to volunteer my own time and resources to run this project and search for new wellsprings of help and support that aren't financially driven.

I hope my decision does not worry you about the future of Alaskan artists. I believe artists need to be able to make a living at what they do, and I have surely spent larger chunks of my life than I, or my parents, would have liked, living on ramen noodles and spare change foraged from my couch. When I began 1000 Cranes, and in fact during my entire stay in St. Michael, my bank account was overdrawn from the up front costs of the trip and I continued to rack up bounce fees just to be able to eat. I am still recovering financially, and while I recognize the possibility of cashing in on this idea, I think this is one of those rare opportunities for me, even with my very limited means, to "pay it forward" to my community. 

I believe this idea is reaching a lot of people, and reinforcing the incredible role I know arts can play in connecting and healing our communities. As a result, I hope more members of our community will be willing to open up their wallets and vote on initiatives to lend support, financial and otherwise, to future programs involving the arts. I would love to see this project become a gateway opportunity for people who have never even considered the value of arts to become both artist and community activist through the simple act of folding a crane and joining our story. 

I believe there is inherent habit in the action of paying money; we do it so frequently that we have weakened the connection between the physical act of it and the result of our exchange. As a result, I think we've weakened the power of the activity to affect us. Without any space for the familiar act of paying money, people participating regain their creative ownership of how they'd like to get involved to move the idea along. So far this seems to be working and I want to see how long it continues.

Audio Slideshow from KTUU.com

1,000 Cranes for Alaska Campaign Soars After Tragedy

By John NorrisKTUU.com

7:03 p.m. AKDT, June 22, 2011

ANCHORAGE, Alaska -

On Saturday, June 11, a 23-year-old man, Johnny Prince, attempted to “water-skip” a snowmachine across a pond in St. Michael, AK. The snowmachine stalled and sank, bringing Prince down with it. His body was recovered more than 40 minutes later.

Leslie Kimiko Ward, a dance teacher in St. Michael for an artist residency, saw the rescue effort firsthand. As an outsider in the small community, Kimiko Ward was unsure of how to process how she felt about the event and set about busying herself.

The tragedy inspired her to take on the task of folding 1,000 paper cranes, a simple act that helped bring the community together and became a campaign to raise awareness of the risk of suicide in rural Alaska.

Though well past 1,000 cranes, Kimiko Ward’s story is still spreading. On Facebook and through email, people from all over the world have been sending their thoughts, prayers and paper cranes to the people of St. Michael.

Here is a link to the online slideshow: (If the following does not show up as a link, simply cut and paste the address into your browser window).

http://www.ktuu.com/features/ktuu-1000-cranes-for-alaska-as-20110622,0,5472746.htmlstory

My offering: A short video

• • 
    
    Crane Dance: Improvisation by Leslie Kimiko Ward, filmed by Tina Scott, edited by Leslie Ward
    Music "Reindeer Herding Song" by Pamyua
    
    
    Excerpt from email to Karina Moeller, lead singer for Pamyua, requesting permission to use their music:
    
    
    "Reindeer Herding Song" has held a special resonance for me throughout this experience. This visit marks my first time witnessing the speckled groups of reindeer grazing on the tundra. The neighboring village of Stebbins held their annual reindeer round up during my stay. And when I played this song for the kids in St. Michael their faces lit up immediately and they all began to sing along. I realized again what an amazing impact you and your group have, not only on people around the world, exposing them to the beauty of Alaska native culture through your music, and the impact you have on the culture itself, creating anthems of pride and belonging, but also what an impact you have made on this particular group of children, now near and dear to my heart.
    
    Please accept my sincerest gratitude for inspiring my feet to dance and our hearts to sing.
    
    
    Response from Karina: 
    
    
    Oh beautiful woman, we are honored that you use our music. Would love to see it, Big hug from Nome,
    Karina

Flight Home

I'm on the last leg of my flight back to Anchorage, and it feels as though I am leaving my heart behind. I can not believe how much this experience has taught me, (and so quickly), about death, about art, about healing, community, compassion, love, grace, and about myself and the power of a single inspiration.  

I am forever changed by my short time in St. Michael, and I will continue to tumble the memories of these past two weeks over in my head and heart, no longer the single grain of painful sand inside the oyster's shell, but rather like the smooth handfuls of multicolored sea glass I stuffed into my sandy pockets until they were full to overflowing.

Thank you, St. Michael, for reflecting me back to myself with such a tenderness and generosity that I hardly recognize the beautiful image before me. It is my solemn promise to you that I will hold this reflection inside my eyes such that others may see themselves in the same brilliant light. 

Showtime! Our community performance and the unveiling of 1000 Cranes

Showtime!!!

We had our big show today. The kids were bouncing off the walls all morning, clinging to me, climbing on me, and driving the other adults crazy. Together we folded a giant crane and on it we traced everyone's handprints, then crafted one final string of cranes to give away as door prizes, and finally, I caved, sending the kids out to the playground to expend some of that nervous energy. 

Co-creating the last crane

We did not find out until just about show time that the village was scheduled for a power outage from 1-4pm (our show was scheduled from 2-3). Luckily the school has a generator which run safety lights and we were able to scrounge up some battery powered speakers that would have to suffice; after all, the show must go on. 

By the time the audience began showing up, the children could hardly contain themselves. I set them about the task of greeting people at the door, welcoming them to the show, and ushering the patrons into our considerably darkened gym. We "held the curtain" for a few minutes when we saw the last Honda (ATV) on the horizon, kicking up dust, adults and kids piled on top of one another. Megan, a teacher at the school, handed out door prize tickets to each patron who entered the gym, and once everyone settled down, Megan kicked off the show with a brief synopsis of what the kids had accomplished in the classroom during summer school.

Then it was our turn. I introduced myself briefly, then got right down to business, inviting the kids to "take the stage". Taiko drumming was up first, using the "gomekan taiko" or trash can drums the kids made the first day of my residency, stretching packaging tape over 5 gallon plastic buckets, and using sanded wooden dowels for "bachi" or drumsticks. 

St. Michael Welcoming Committee

The elementary students went first, performing "Matsuri Taiko" a festival drum piece, and then the older students wowed us with their adaptation of "Hachijo" a piece composed by Stan Shikuma of Seattle Kokon Taiko, about the island of exile for the Japanese samurai.  Next came "Soran Bushi" an updated version of a traditional Japanese fishing dance, often performed by Japanese school children before a field day. The elementary students were up next, with their creative jazz dance about the animals and plants that help to repopulate the forest after a fire, and we all had a blast watching the older kids give us a sample of their breakdancing skills. Both groups showed off some of their new moves across the floor, and for our big finale we all performed the greatest American folk dance in history, a.k.a. Michael Jackson's "Thriller", complete with authentic zombie impressions.

I dismissed the children to go fetch the "surprise" and began to share with the audience some of what I had witnessed and felt during my time in St. Michael. I spoke of the shyness of the children that first day, how when I'd asked for their names, they'd silently all turned their backs. I spoke of the hard work the children had put into our preparations for the performance, and how proud I was of how far they'd come. I spoke of my perspective, both as an artist and an outsider, to the tragic events of the weekend, my emails home requesting family guidance and the parable my father shared about the oyster turning a grain of painful sand into a beautiful pearl. Finally I shared with the audience my decision to fold one thousand cranes in a gesture of healing and support. 

Still reeling from fresh trauma, it only took one mention of this weekend's accident for all of the faces to crumple and the tears to flow. As soon as I'd finished speaking, I gestured to the children waiting eagerly at the door, and in they paraded, their faces beaming with pride, a strand of cranes held aloft in each arm. The tears of the audience fell faster, but I could see their faces begin to uncrumple as we all struggled to take in as much as we could of the bittersweet moment, the colorful cranes and the proud smiles of the children mingling with the visceral memory of Saturday's failed rescue.

The raffle for the door prizes helped to quell the emotion in the room, and soon people were smiling and clapping for the winners of the big boxes of carrots, pears and milk, all leftover from the students in summer school. My residency students even used their newfound taiko skills to offer enthusiastic drum rolls for the grand prizes: the handprinted crane and the last string of cranes which we had attached to a piece of driftwood from the beach,

After the final prize was given out, the audience was invited to the lobby/cafeteria for refreshments. I had rolled my best impression of sushi earlier that morning, out of the nori (seaweed) that I had brought from home and the Uncle Ben's rice and canned tuna which I found at the AC store. Megan even managed to round up two cheese cakes and some cranberry juice to add to our feast.  

1000 Cranes. We did it!

Everyone gathered and ate and talked about the show, while the gym was left open for children to dance and play on the drums. I was thrilled to see the students I'd worked with during the residency patiently teaching their songs and dances to the younger ones, helping them hold the drumsticks, and offering words of encouragement for enthusiastic creativity. 

I felt particularly blessed when the parent of one of my older students, a member of the tribal council, expressed her gratitude for my efforts and said that my presence in St. Michael during this community heartbreak was certainly "no accident." I hugged her, thanked her, and replied "I couldn't agree more."

Support from the Department of Health

HI Leslie,

My name is James Gallanos and am the lead suicide prevention coordinator for the state. 

The reason for my e-mail is to express my gratitude for a seemingly small act of kindness and compassion that is turning eyes and ears all over the internet to the plight of suicides in rural Alaska. The recent Walk For Life on May 14^th is another example and am feeling an upwelling of energy and support to not only reach out to survivors but also to put more effort into reducing suicide. Your example is one that did not require a grant, did not require money (only the cost of paper and access to the internet), only people inclined to reach out in support of one another.

About a month ago I contacted Saunders McNeil as she is with the Alaska State Council on the Arts about possibly holding a presentation about the use of the arts as an influence on our health and wellness including suicide prevention. Saunders approached our Department here a few years ago in the prevention section to partner with us on this effort. Since that time we had directed people to the website to seek out mini-grants but we have yet to really put a bookmark on this connection between arts as a protective factor against the problems such as  suicide, and substance abuse  You just showed a small slice of that connection that is having a big impact.

We are coming up on our annual School Health and Wellness Institute on October 24-26^th and are looking for “Success Stories” of projects, activities that influence health and wellness. I am attaching the form in this e-mail if interested. I would love to incorporate this story as part of a School Postvention (after a suicide) Training that I am facilitating during the conference. I know the story is still growing and evolving but so far its incredible. I am also sharing a postvention resource guide that we just developed and some other survivor of suicide loss resources. Please let me know if this is something you would be interested in so I can let our planning committee know. Thanks. ~ James.

James Gallanos, MSW

Program Coordinator

Department of Health and Social Services

Behavioral Health / Prevention & Early Intervention Services

Office 465-8536

Fax 465-2668

A sign: Excerpt from a message to a friend after completing the 1000 cranes

My first crane

My eyes are all squinty because it is almost 6am and I have pulled an all nighter folding and stringing cranes, but, shhh, don't tell anyone, I just finished the last one. 


[Pause to upload photos]

Day one

Oh my god!! I don't know how to tell you what just happened! I plugged in my camera to upload the last of the photos for tonight, and the whole screen went dark, then this beautiful song started playing through the speakers and all of my photos from this project started showing up on the screen, one after the other. Once it was over I tried to make it happen again, but I have no idea how, and the song isn't one I own on itunes. 

Amazing. Thank you to whatever just made that happen. I can't believe this project. I just can't believe it. Except here it is, right in front of me.

    

1000 Cranes in the Anchorage Press

1000 cranes

An artist in a rural village builds suicide awareness by folding paper

By Dawnell Smith

A young man drowns in a village. We read about it and shake our heads. People drown all the time. We get used to it. People kill themselves all the time. Statistics shadow us like biting insects. We carry on. What does that mean-to "get used to it" or "carry on?"

A young man drowned in St. Michaels last week. Children, adults, visitors watched as others searched for him. A visiting artist teaching summer school, Leslie Kimiko Ward felt "the collective agony as they pulled his body from the lake." She questioned her place in a village she had only begun to know. She was there to teach dance and drumming, the thumping of life and creation.

Harder still, Ward heard from a teacher who worried about how the loss would impact the rest of the village of 350. Three people had already killed themselves during the school year, and despair, isolation and hopelessness follow. A tragedy can beget a tragedy, "like the aftershocks that follow an earthquake," said Ward.

So she started folding one thousand paper cranes for the village to "stave off my helpless feelings and create something beautiful in the wake what had happened."

And she emailed her parents. Her father responded to her email, "telling me of a parable that was given at the funeral services held this week for my great uncle Bill, a practicing Buddhist. The monk overseeing the services told the story of an oyster, and how it takes a grain of sand, a source of irritation and pain, and turns it over and over until it creates a pearl. The parable reminds us that out of something painful can come something beautiful."

So she decided to share her feelings, reach out, connect, and inspire a simple act of creativity that forged an ever-expanding gift of communal compassion and understanding. The resulting Facebook page, 1000 Cranes for Alaska, is meant to build awareness about loss and suicide, and about how grief and despair can seep through our communities and deepen our sense of disconnection.

The page with a tutorial on how to make paper cranes gained over 100 followers in one day, with postings and images of people holding their own paper cranes-kids from the village, kids from the Children's Healing Art Project in Oregon, people from Washington and Georgia, people with paper cranes on fingertips, in sand, on plants, in the hands of the people who made them.

The significance of the "thousand cranes" originates in the story of Japanese girl Sadako Sasaki, who folded cranes in an attempt to stave off her death from leukemia as a result of radiation from Hiroshima, said Ward. The idea is that the completion of the task yields a wish for the folder. The thousand cranes also serve as a symbol for world peace.

It turns out that the kids in St. Michaels knew the story of Sadako Sasaki. After seeing pictures of cranes posted on the Facebook page, they folded cranes beyond the end of the school day, and took home tiny piles of colorful paper so that they could teach their families and friends how to make them.

The cranes look different, some tidy and some rough. Some plain, others adorned. They are not individually art, really, but collectively they say something. They speak to humanity, perhaps, or the possibility of creating a new cycle.

Not one of loss, but of creation. Not one of isolation, but of solidarity.

Those of us who have lost friends and family members, leaders and visionaries, to suicide, know how it threads through what we do, what we believe, what we expect. In some small, strange and simple way, 1000 Cranes for Alaska begins a new thread.

Make a crane. Take a picture. Check it out.

Find 1000 Cranes for Alaska at

http://www.facebook.com/pages/1000-Cranes-for-Alaska/104843446277423 and the crane-folding tutorial athttp://www.facebook.com/l/c3852vbVXHHh-_uPGuJMzqAcXQA/youtu.be/FSijU52XJ7w

1000 Cranes featured on the Rasmuson Foundation Blog site

Out of tragedy: cranes, connections

This unexpected blog post came today in the form of an email. Artist Leslie Kimiko Ward was in the midst of an Artists in Schools residency in St. Michael when tragedy struck the community. Her story about the experience, and her response, so moved us that we asked if we could share it here. Rasmuson Foundation provides support to the Artists in Schools program through the Alaska State Council for the Arts.

“Well, we have been having quite the residency here in St. Michael, Alaska, a rural village of about 400 in the Bering Strait School district. Our first week went very well; the kids were clearly excited with the material I planned and we had begun preparations for our community performance.

“Everything shifted this past Saturday night, when St. Michael suffered a tragic loss. A young man, “Paba,” 23 years old, drowned in the lake just beside the school. I can not begin to tell you how deeply this affected me, witnessing the desperate search to locate him under the water, and experiencing the communal agony that followed the recovery of his lifeless body. Needless to say, I was left reeling, and struggling to find my place both as an artist and an outsider to this clearly personal tragedy. At the time, the most I could offer in the way of assistance was to gather up the children closest to me and help lead them away from the grisly images burning themselves into our memory banks. We brought the drums outside, and offered a safe alternative space until parents came to call them home.

“That night I wrote to my own family for guidance and support, and the next morning, in an effort to channel my own despair, I decided I would begin folding a gift of 1000 origami cranes in a gesture of healing. As I began cutting the paper and preparing to fold, Megan, one of the teachers here, mentioned how concerned she was about the increased suicide risk in the village following a tragedy such as this one. St. Michael has already suffered 3 suicides this school year, as well as the death of 2 elders. In a village this small and remote, nearly everyone is related to each other in some fashion, so a death in the village essentially equates to the death of a family member.

“Megan’s worry struck a chord in me, as I have been struggling to make sense of the high suicide rate in Alaska since moving here 9 years ago. I have suffered the loss of nearly one friend/acquaintance/colleague each year to suicide since living here, and have felt helpless to do anything to stop what feels like a hemorrhage of our community’s bright, amazing people.

“Sometime over the course of a long day spent cutting, folding and contemplating, I decided it was time to expand my project. I launched a facebook page called “1000 Cranes for Alaska” and linked a crane folding video tutorial to the site, asking visitors to please fold a crane and post a photo of themselves holding it, both to shed light on the issue of suicide prevention in rural Alaska, and to offer the residents of this village of St. Michael some solace, knowing that they are, and indeed we all are, connected to a wider network than what can be seen in this beautiful but very remote corner of the tundra.

“You may already know the significance of the thousand origami cranes, said to grant a wish to the folder, offered as gifts in Japan for births, weddings, anniversaries, and, thanks to the story of Sadako Sasaki, a Japanese girl who folded cranes in an attempt to stave off her death from leukemia as a result of radiation from Hiroshima, the thousand cranes are also recognized as a symbol of world peace.

“I launched the site yesterday morning, and I don’t quite know how to explain what happened next. The kids immediately took to the project, folding cranes and posting their photos to the site. Many of them were already familiar with the story of Sadako and the Thousand Cranes, and in the wake of the recent tragedy, they were eager for the opportunity to engage in some creative positivity.

“And then the responses began to roll in. Pictures from people who heard about the site began appearing on our page. First from Anchorage, then the lower 48, many complete strangers whose pictures appeared alongside words of encouragement and hope for the people of St. Michael. By the morning of our second day in existence, we had gone global receiving our first post from Switzerland. The Anchorage Press has picked up our story, as has UAA’s Northern Light and ktuu.com, and we are adding new followers to the site at the staggering rate of nearly 100 per day. Entire organizations have begun pledging their support; one such organization, the Children’s Healing Art Project in Oregon, a foundation dedicated to providing art programs to children in hospitals battling cancer, has pledged, for one whole week, to have every employee and volunteer fold a crane at the beginning of each shift. We even have a picture from the Coast Guard on its way from Georgia (as soon as everyone in the unit learns how to fold a crane, they said).

“This project is making a marked impact on the children here. They have requested to take paper home to fold cranes with their families, (a self imposed homework request I happily obliged), new children are showing up who have thus far been absent from summer school, and kids who only last week were quick to leave as soon as we finished our activities are staying well after the school day, playing music, freestyle dancing, folding cranes and laughing with each other. Today I had to gently encourage the middle schoolers to go home so I could finally clean up the space and get some dinner. They made sure to gather up bundles of colored paper before they went.

“So, that’s my update. I am thankful to be joined this residency with a (self funded) videographer who is faithfully documenting the process and folding cranes like a champ. We will have a DVD of the edited footage at some point, to be shared with the school and the AIS program.

“Here is a link to Facebook page if you want to join us in the effort: “1000 Cranes for Alaska.”

“Thank you so much, Artists in Schools, Alaska State Council on the Arts, and the Bering Straits School District for this opportunity to make a difference.”

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A pledge from the Children's Healing Art Project

Hi Leslie-


Your aunt Marlene forwarded your email to us at the Children's Healing Art Project. I am so sorry to hear about the town's loss. I am familiar with the suicide rate in Alaska and also have a sister in law who comitted suicide. I think that this "1000 crane project" is a wonderful way to bring a little joy to all of the people impacted by this tradgedy and celebrate his life.

We very much want to participate. At CHAP we work with children in the hospitals battling cancer by taking art programs to them and their families. The story of Sadako Sasaki hits very close to home and I couldnt think of a better project for us to participate in. For one week all of the employees and volunteers will make a crane at the beginning of our shift. I think this is a great way to bring perspective to what it is we all do and what is important in life.

Thank you for sharing this with us, and again, I am sorry for your loss.

Roxie McGovern
Children's Healing Art Project
www.chap.name

A parable from my father

My Dad

The night following the drowning in St. Michael, I sent a despondent email to my parents, asking for their guidance and support.  Both responded with loving words of encouragement and hope, and told me about the funeral services they had attended this week for my great uncle Bill, a practicing Buddhist.

My father parlayed a parable given by the monk overseeing the services, telling me the story of the oyster, and how it takes a grain of sand, a source of much irritation and pain, and turns it over and over until it creates a pearl. The parable reminds us that out of something painful can come something beautiful. He told me to find my pearl. After reading his email, I decided I would start on the task of folding one thousand paper cranes to stave off my helpless feelings and create something beautiful in the wake what had occurred.