2021-Current
On the first day of school this year, one of my new students asked me what my medium was as an artist. I started to say “printmaking,” but what came out instead was, “...social circumstances?”
I stole that from Daniel Johnson.
Daniel, a brilliant Mississippi-based artist, spoke at this year’s NAEA Southeastern Leadership Conference in Jackson. His work focuses on community-building through art, and during his keynote, he described his medium not as clay, paint, or canvas—but as social circumstances. He talked about the art of holding space for people, directing resources into that space, and facilitating collaboration toward a shared goal.
And sitting there, listening to him, something clicked: that’s exactly what we do. Not just in theory, but every day—in classrooms, in conversations, in communities.
As art educators, we don’t just teach techniques or vocabulary; we build relationships, we foster joy, and we create the conditions where stories can be told—and heard.
At the conference, our theme was Leading with Creativity and Joy, but what really took center stage was storytelling. Not just as a feel-good exercise, but as a deeply effective advocacy tool. Because the truth is, facts and figures don’t always move people. Stories do.
A well-told story builds empathy. It allows people to step into someone else’s experience, to feel what they feel. Stories frame complex issues in a way that’s human and relatable. They’re memorable. And when they hit just right, they inspire action.
That lesson came full circle for me a few weeks later in the most unlikely of places: the D.C. airport.
One of my students had recently been featured on a web series by South Carolina ETV. It was a beautifully produced segment, and he did an incredible job speaking about his art and advocating for public art programs. He was articulate, passionate, and deeply proud—not just of his own work, but of what art meant to his community.
Shortly after the episode aired, I found myself at a crowded table in the airport, trying to eat a questionable wrap and decompress after an NAEA board meeting. A woman sitting nearby struck up a conversation. She was an education consultant, and when she found out I was an art teacher, she lit up.
“I just saw this amazing student on SCETV,” she said. “He was talking about art in schools—it was so inspiring.”
It was my student.
Suddenly, we weren’t strangers anymore. We were collaborators—talking about how she could bring the arts into her work, how connection and creativity make education stronger, and how we could keep this conversation going beyond a shared table at Gate 34A.
That’s the power of storytelling. It creates unexpected bridges. It sparks ideas. And sometimes, it leads to real change.
Our personal stories—and the stories we help others tell—can be incredibly powerful tools for creating empathy and momentum. In the classroom, in policy conversations, in coffee shops, and yes, even in airports, the act of telling a story can shift the atmosphere. It can make someone feel seen. It can make someone care.
So whether you're sharing a student’s work, explaining your curriculum, or just chatting with a stranger who doesn’t quite understand what art education is, remember this: you are an artist working in the medium of social circumstances. You are holding space. You are building connections. You are telling the stories that move people to act—and maybe, just maybe, you’re helping someone else discover their own.