Transom Podcast

“Scene of the Crime” on PRX

About Scene of the Crime

This summer I traveled to Colombia on a 10-day fact finding mission organized by Witness for Peace, a Washington-based social justice organization. Witness for Peace had scheduled ten long days of interviews with human rights activists, union leaders, displaced farmers, and witnesses and victims of paramilitary violence. I’m a private investigator and working on a graduate degree in Legal Studies focusing on human rights investigations, so the delegation to the Magdalena and Cesar regions of Colombia was right up my alley. The focus of the trip was Human Rights violations, corporate abuse, and internally displaced persons, specifically in relation to lawsuits against Dole, Chiquita and Drummond Mine Company. As a law student I was interested in the legal issues of bringing allegations of human rights abuses in U.S. courts. As an investigator I was interested in the difficulties of gathering evidence of crimes that occurred years ago and in another country.

I’m also an avid NPR listener and I’ve always been interested in radio documentaries. At least once a week I come across a subject and think, “this would be a great radio piece”. It seemed like the Colombia trip had all the makings for a compelling radio documentary. So about a month before my trip I sent an email to Transom.org to see if they could suggest someone to produce a radio piece regarding the ties between these multi-national corporations operating in Colombia and paramilitary terrorists. The next thing I knew, recording equipment was arriving by FedEx. My intention was to produce an investigative piece, not a reflection on my experiences. But as Jay Allison told me, “You know you have a good story when it’s not the one you intended to tell.”

I had read about similar lawsuits, where the plaintiff’s are trying to prove in U.S. courts that crimes were committed in another country, crimes that occurred years ago. As an investigator I’ve been involved in death-scene investigations, but the body was usually still warm…or at least there was a body. In the Chiquita lawsuit there are nearly 250 victims, and in the Dole lawsuit there are over 50 more. That’s 300 crime scenes, 300 bodies. Of course, in reality, there aren’t any crimes scenes; the crime scenes have been gone for years. And there aren’t any bodies, unless they’re dug up. How were the plaintiffs going to prove any of this? And I have seen cases were people that were thought to be dead were found to be very much alive. Could that be happening here? I was fascinated. I still am.

The challenges in Colombia began right away. As an investigator I’m used to working on my own. But in Colombia I was in a group with nine others and two group leaders. The leaders of the group were terrific and had done a great job scheduling meetings and interviews, but working in a group is always difficult, especially when it comes to conducting interviews. The group interviews were less focused than I would have liked, and the background noise made effective recording impossible. So I ended up sitting through the incredibly long group meetings, and then asking for a private interview in a quiet environment where I could more intently probe. Because we were on a tight schedule I missed some good interview opportunities and the chance to record background noise and ambiance that would have come in handy during production.

One of the first people we met was Edguardo Cabrara, a human rights activist. He became our guide to the plaintiffs and their stories. Edguardo took us to speak with a group of fishermen and their families who had been displaced by paramilitary violence and now lived in Boca de Aracataca, a mudflat next to the Magdalena River. As rain poured down on us,

“Scene of the Crime” on PRX

About Scene of the Crime

This summer I traveled to Colombia on a 10-day fact finding mission organized by Witness for Peace, a Washington-based social justice organization. Witness for Peace had scheduled ten long days of interviews with human rights activists, union leaders, displaced farmers, and witnesses and victims of paramilitary violence. I’m a private investigator and working on a graduate degree in Legal Studies focusing on human rights investigations, so the delegation to the Magdalena and Cesar regions of Colombia was right up my alley. The focus of the trip was Human Rights violations, corporate abuse, and internally displaced persons, specifically in relation to lawsuits against Dole, Chiquita and Drummond Mine Company. As a law student I was interested in the legal issues of bringing allegations of human rights abuses in U.S. courts. As an investigator I was interested in the difficulties of gathering evidence of crimes that occurred years ago and in another country.

I’m also an avid NPR listener and I’ve always been interested in radio documentaries. At least once a week I come across a subject and think, “this would be a great radio piece”. It seemed like the Colombia trip had all the makings for a compelling radio documentary. So about a month before my trip I sent an email to Transom.org to see if they could suggest someone to produce a radio piece regarding the ties between these multi-national corporations operating in Colombia and paramilitary terrorists. The next thing I knew, recording equipment was arriving by FedEx. My intention was to produce an investigative piece, not a reflection on my experiences. But as Jay Allison told me, “You know you have a good story when it’s not the one you intended to tell.”

I had read about similar lawsuits, where the plaintiff’s are trying to prove in U.S. courts that crimes were committed in another country, crimes that occurred years ago. As an investigator I’ve been involved in death-scene investigations, but the body was usually still warm…or at least there was a body. In the Chiquita lawsuit there are nearly 250 victims, and in the Dole lawsuit there are over 50 more. That’s 300 crime scenes, 300 bodies. Of course, in reality, there aren’t any crimes scenes; the crime scenes have been gone for years. And there aren’t any bodies, unless they’re dug up. How were the plaintiffs going to prove any of this? And I have seen cases were people that were thought to be dead were found to be very much alive. Could that be happening here? I was fascinated. I still am.

The challenges in Colombia began right away. As an investigator I’m used to working on my own. But in Colombia I was in a group with nine others and two group leaders. The leaders of the group were terrific and had done a great job scheduling meetings and interviews, but working in a group is always difficult, especially when it comes to conducting interviews. The group interviews were less focused than I would have liked, and the background noise made effective recording impossible. So I ended up sitting through the incredibly long group meetings, and then asking for a private interview in a quiet environment where I could more intently probe. Because we were on a tight schedule I missed some good interview opportunities and the chance to record background noise and ambiance that would have come in handy during production.

One of the first people we met was Edguardo Cabrara, a human rights activist. He became our guide to the plaintiffs and their stories. Edguardo took us to speak with a group of fishermen and their families who had been displaced by paramilitary violence and now lived in Boca de Aracataca, a mudflat next to the Magdalena River. As rain poured down on us,

“Inside the Adoption Circle” on PRX

About Inside the Adoption Circle

Adoption reveals some profound but basic aspects of the human story. It’s an act of caring, love and bravery. An emphatic and ancient statement about human nature, it is also rife with questions about identity. We wanted to get to the stories that live inside those questions.

In the fall of 2007 Sam had been having long conversations with her friend Kira who had recently gone through the process of adopting a child. That experience got Kira wondering about the stories rarely heard outside the world of adoption – particularly those of birth parents.

Kira’s adoption coordinator, Miriam Rand, introduced us (Sam and Viki) to the concept of the “silent triad” that exists in every adoption – birth parents, adoptee, and adoptive families. Suddenly adoption stories began cropping up everywhere. At the mention of the word, everyone around us seemed to have some connection to adoption – it was almost uncanny, like supressed memory resurfacing. A long-time friend revealed his aunt was actually his birth mother. Another suddenly recalled a family member who had been placed for adoption. Even we began to remember connections to adoption in our own lives. For some adoption still carried a stigma which made the subject even more compelling.

Kira and Miriam, helped connect us to people willing to talk about their stories, and we began interviewing in the spring of 2008. Our objective was to speak with every possible player in adoption: birth parents, adoptive families, and adoptees including every configuration we could find: domestic, international, cross cultural, open and closed adoptions. We spoke to gay and heterosexual adoptive parents. We spoke with people who had reunited with their birth families, some who were still searching and others who were undecided.

From the start of our interviews we were stunned by how eager everyone was to talk to us, as if they had been waiting for the chance to speak. We offered anonymity to encourage everyone to speak freely, yet in the end, many agreed to give their names. Some closed their eyes when they spoke, some started off with defensive body language but grew closer and closer to the mic, some got so quiet, and some couldn’t say enough. There were plenty of long pauses. Our time spent in each interview, even in production, was awash in vulnerability, doubt and denial, the conviction, the fantasies, the quiet revealment and for all of us, the unanswerable questions.

Interviews in hand, logged and cut, we searched for an organizing principle. We wanted to avoid narration and rely on the voices and stories to shepherd the listener. At first we tried a collage of random voices speaking from all sides of adoption leading to a specific theme with a deeper story, but it was too confusing.

Jay Allison suggested we keep voices together by role like orchestras do separating reeds from brass from strings. We sectioned adoptees, from birth families from adoptive families. Jay also felt some minimal narration would provide listeners with “signposts” along the way and help move the piece forward. Thanks, Jay and thanks to Kira Jones and Miriam Rand for help making it happen. Most especially, our thanks to all those who opened up and let us in.

Additional Support for this work provided by

“Inside the Adoption Circle” on PRX

About Inside the Adoption Circle

Adoption reveals some profound but basic aspects of the human story. It’s an act of caring, love and bravery. An emphatic and ancient statement about human nature, it is also rife with questions about identity. We wanted to get to the stories that live inside those questions.

In the fall of 2007 Sam had been having long conversations with her friend Kira who had recently gone through the process of adopting a child. That experience got Kira wondering about the stories rarely heard outside the world of adoption – particularly those of birth parents.

Kira’s adoption coordinator, Miriam Rand, introduced us (Sam and Viki) to the concept of the “silent triad” that exists in every adoption – birth parents, adoptee, and adoptive families. Suddenly adoption stories began cropping up everywhere. At the mention of the word, everyone around us seemed to have some connection to adoption – it was almost uncanny, like supressed memory resurfacing. A long-time friend revealed his aunt was actually his birth mother. Another suddenly recalled a family member who had been placed for adoption. Even we began to remember connections to adoption in our own lives. For some adoption still carried a stigma which made the subject even more compelling.

Kira and Miriam, helped connect us to people willing to talk about their stories, and we began interviewing in the spring of 2008. Our objective was to speak with every possible player in adoption: birth parents, adoptive families, and adoptees including every configuration we could find: domestic, international, cross cultural, open and closed adoptions. We spoke to gay and heterosexual adoptive parents. We spoke with people who had reunited with their birth families, some who were still searching and others who were undecided.

From the start of our interviews we were stunned by how eager everyone was to talk to us, as if they had been waiting for the chance to speak. We offered anonymity to encourage everyone to speak freely, yet in the end, many agreed to give their names. Some closed their eyes when they spoke, some started off with defensive body language but grew closer and closer to the mic, some got so quiet, and some couldn’t say enough. There were plenty of long pauses. Our time spent in each interview, even in production, was awash in vulnerability, doubt and denial, the conviction, the fantasies, the quiet revealment and for all of us, the unanswerable questions.

Interviews in hand, logged and cut, we searched for an organizing principle. We wanted to avoid narration and rely on the voices and stories to shepherd the listener. At first we tried a collage of random voices speaking from all sides of adoption leading to a specific theme with a deeper story, but it was too confusing.

Jay Allison suggested we keep voices together by role like orchestras do separating reeds from brass from strings. We sectioned adoptees, from birth families from adoptive families. Jay also felt some minimal narration would provide listeners with “signposts” along the way and help move the piece forward. Thanks, Jay and thanks to Kira Jones and Miriam Rand for help making it happen. Most especially, our thanks to all those who opened up and let us in.

Additional Support for this work provided by

“Finding Miles” on PRX

About Finding Miles from Sarah Reynolds

I first knew Miles as Megan back in college. When he decided to transition from female to male, he gave me a call. He was slowly coming out to his friends as transgender — testing them, really — to see who he could still count on. The radio producer in me kicked in and I thought, this is quite a story about to unravel. I pitched him the idea and he agreed to do it: we would document his transition for radio.

We began in November of 2008. I taught Miles how to use the gear and he used it for just over a year. In the beginning, he would mostly sit in his room and record at the end of the day very quietly. Miles is shy (as he’ll tell you himself) and when he took the recorder with him, he would often walk around with the mic under his arm or in his bag. But slowly he grew comfortable and more willing to take the gear with him.

As he went, he would send me audio files through an FTP site. I downloaded them and listened along the way, jotting down questions and suggestions about what else I wanted to hear. We met up in person and checked in on the phone every few weeks and each time we did, I recorded him.

One of the most challenging things for me was producing through his voice change. Miles began taking testosterone about five months after we began our recording. If I didn’t keep right up with the tape each week and get everything I thought I needed, I wouldn’t be able to get it again. But as we know, the story always shifts as you go along and it’s hard to get everything you need – especially when you’re not doing all the interviewing yourself. Miles’ voice deepened quickly and at a certain point, I only had a deeper voiced Miles to reflect on what had already happened.

By the end of 2009, Miles had gone through surgery, was further into testosterone treatment, out at work, in life, at home and this chapter of his life came to a natural conclusion – always a good place to end a radio piece. I listened to every minute of tape and pulled together a story – only part of a story, really – but one that captures Megan to Miles and how he found a better space to fit into this crazy world of binaries. It was an amazing process to witness and one that still continues beyond this piece of radio. Miles is courageous for sharing it.

About Finding Miles from Miles Taylor

I can honestly say that today I am not the same person I was when I began recording my story during the winter of 2008. So much has happened over the past 18 months, I’m caught between feeling like it’s flown by in an incredibly profound blur and thinking it’s also been the longest, most hectic &#$% year and a half of my life!

This piece was made from probably over a hundred hours of tape (a tip of the hat to my producer, though that’s probably the last time she’ll ever tell anyone “More is better than less!”). Frankly, I think I got the easy end of this deal; all I had to do was carry around a microphone.

Transitioning is a once in a lifetime experience very few people get to have–although one which I would never want to go through again. As I got closer to starting hormones, I knew I wanted to document it in some way: journals, photos, videos. And it was right around that time when Sarah approached me about making an audio documentary. I’ve never been one for the spotlight so I surprised myself when I barely hesitated before saying yes; I also knew I would be putting myself into very trust worthy hands. One thing led to the next and we got the tape rolling.

The more I recorded the easier it got. People generally wouldn’t describe me as a ‘talker’ so having to talk and talk and talk (and then talk some more, especially all about myself) was a learning experience all together. But once I got into it,

“Finding Miles” on PRX

About Finding Miles from Sarah Reynolds

I first knew Miles as Megan back in college. When he decided to transition from female to male, he gave me a call. He was slowly coming out to his friends as transgender — testing them, really — to see who he could still count on. The radio producer in me kicked in and I thought, this is quite a story about to unravel. I pitched him the idea and he agreed to do it: we would document his transition for radio.

We began in November of 2008. I taught Miles how to use the gear and he used it for just over a year. In the beginning, he would mostly sit in his room and record at the end of the day very quietly. Miles is shy (as he’ll tell you himself) and when he took the recorder with him, he would often walk around with the mic under his arm or in his bag. But slowly he grew comfortable and more willing to take the gear with him.

As he went, he would send me audio files through an FTP site. I downloaded them and listened along the way, jotting down questions and suggestions about what else I wanted to hear. We met up in person and checked in on the phone every few weeks and each time we did, I recorded him.

One of the most challenging things for me was producing through his voice change. Miles began taking testosterone about five months after we began our recording. If I didn’t keep right up with the tape each week and get everything I thought I needed, I wouldn’t be able to get it again. But as we know, the story always shifts as you go along and it’s hard to get everything you need – especially when you’re not doing all the interviewing yourself. Miles’ voice deepened quickly and at a certain point, I only had a deeper voiced Miles to reflect on what had already happened.

By the end of 2009, Miles had gone through surgery, was further into testosterone treatment, out at work, in life, at home and this chapter of his life came to a natural conclusion – always a good place to end a radio piece. I listened to every minute of tape and pulled together a story – only part of a story, really – but one that captures Megan to Miles and how he found a better space to fit into this crazy world of binaries. It was an amazing process to witness and one that still continues beyond this piece of radio. Miles is courageous for sharing it.

About Finding Miles from Miles Taylor

I can honestly say that today I am not the same person I was when I began recording my story during the winter of 2008. So much has happened over the past 18 months, I’m caught between feeling like it’s flown by in an incredibly profound blur and thinking it’s also been the longest, most hectic &#$% year and a half of my life!

This piece was made from probably over a hundred hours of tape (a tip of the hat to my producer, though that’s probably the last time she’ll ever tell anyone “More is better than less!”). Frankly, I think I got the easy end of this deal; all I had to do was carry around a microphone.

Transitioning is a once in a lifetime experience very few people get to have–although one which I would never want to go through again. As I got closer to starting hormones, I knew I wanted to document it in some way: journals, photos, videos. And it was right around that time when Sarah approached me about making an audio documentary. I’ve never been one for the spotlight so I surprised myself when I barely hesitated before saying yes; I also knew I would be putting myself into very trust worthy hands. One thing led to the next and we got the tape rolling.

The more I recorded the easier it got. People generally wouldn’t describe me as a ‘talker’ so having to talk and talk and talk (and then talk some more, especially all about myself) was a learning experience all together. But once I got into it,

“Working With Studs – A Transom Radio Special” on PRX

Bonus tracks from “Working With Studs”

About Working With Studs

Back in the 1980s, long before coming to work at Transom, I’d been working with Studs Terkel at WFMT Radio. Despite exiting ’FMT in ‘91, and leaving Chicago in 2001, I continued working as Studs’ transcriptionist and editorial helper for the rest of his life.

Last year, during a planning meeting for a Transom radio special series, Jay Allison said, “OK, Syd, you have to produce an hour.” Until then, the extent of my audio work had been making Sonic IDs (WCAI’s 60-second station ID breaks). I’d never produced anything longer than 90-seconds, and I hadn’t even touched a Pro Tools session in 6 years. Knowing I had the creative and technical support of my Transom community kept me from being paralyzed with fear.

My original idea, prompted by a conversation with Samantha Broun, was to use audio made during my work on his memoir Touch and Go. I had a box containing 30 cassette tapes of Studs talking about his life and work. Where to begin?

Jay wisely urged me to focus the piece on working with Studs rather than on his work, and offered structural suggestions. Viki, knowing how self-conscious a writer and reader I am, made a great suggestion: instead of writing a formal narration, I should make notes and simply talk to her rather than read her the narration.

Everyone at Transom gave great notes on early drafts — gratitude for all they contributed in the making of this hour.

For the piece, I chose to interview others who had worked closely with or around Studs. From WFMT, three former colleagues: Lois Baum (Associate Program Director who’d worked with Studs for over 40 years), former WFMT sales manager Tony Judge, (who’d become a friend to Studs and accompanied him on long distance interview trips for the books), and George Drury. George started out as Assistant Librarian and became Spoken Arts Curator before becoming a teacher. His archival nature and memory were essential to this project, and he generously shared audio and ideas. Studs’ publisher André Schiffrin was the natural choice when discussing the oral history work. And I included Tom Engelhardt, an editor I’d bonded with when he worked on two of Studs’ later books.

For me, the opportunity to talk with the others about our old friend close to a year after his death was a joyful experience.

Of course, my original plans went kerflooey. For starters, much of my Terkel tape wasn’t usable. He was frail when we worked on Touch and Go, recovering from a lengthy hospitalization and a raft of ailments. He didn’t sound like himself. Fortunately, in 2001, Jay had asked me to interview Studs in Chicago for a Transom manifesto. That tape was perfect for my needs.

George Drury suggested I get in touch with German documentarians Hans-Ulrich Warner and Uli Swidler who kindly shared audio from television and radio documentaries they’d done on Chicago and Studs years back. Jesse Hardman heard about the piece and volunteered tape from Studs’ 90th birthday celebration. Studs’ son, Dan Terkell, dug out and sent tapes I requested from the house. Russell Lewis of the Chicago History Museum and Steve Robinson of WFMT graciously gave me permission to use material under their respective purviews. But there’s only so much you can pack into an hour, and much of what I gluttonously requested was eventually put aside.

Thanks to Sara Chapman and Tom Weinberg of Media Burn, Jyothi Natarajan of the New Press, David Krupp, and those interviewed for helping me get my hands on the photos.

At first,

“Working With Studs – A Transom Radio Special” on PRX

Bonus tracks from “Working With Studs”

About Working With Studs

Back in the 1980s, long before coming to work at Transom, I’d been working with Studs Terkel at WFMT Radio. Despite exiting ’FMT in ‘91, and leaving Chicago in 2001, I continued working as Studs’ transcriptionist and editorial helper for the rest of his life.

Last year, during a planning meeting for a Transom radio special series, Jay Allison said, “OK, Syd, you have to produce an hour.” Until then, the extent of my audio work had been making Sonic IDs (WCAI’s 60-second station ID breaks). I’d never produced anything longer than 90-seconds, and I hadn’t even touched a Pro Tools session in 6 years. Knowing I had the creative and technical support of my Transom community kept me from being paralyzed with fear.

My original idea, prompted by a conversation with Samantha Broun, was to use audio made during my work on his memoir Touch and Go. I had a box containing 30 cassette tapes of Studs talking about his life and work. Where to begin?

Jay wisely urged me to focus the piece on working with Studs rather than on his work, and offered structural suggestions. Viki, knowing how self-conscious a writer and reader I am, made a great suggestion: instead of writing a formal narration, I should make notes and simply talk to her rather than read her the narration.

Everyone at Transom gave great notes on early drafts — gratitude for all they contributed in the making of this hour.

For the piece, I chose to interview others who had worked closely with or around Studs. From WFMT, three former colleagues: Lois Baum (Associate Program Director who’d worked with Studs for over 40 years), former WFMT sales manager Tony Judge, (who’d become a friend to Studs and accompanied him on long distance interview trips for the books), and George Drury. George started out as Assistant Librarian and became Spoken Arts Curator before becoming a teacher. His archival nature and memory were essential to this project, and he generously shared audio and ideas. Studs’ publisher André Schiffrin was the natural choice when discussing the oral history work. And I included Tom Engelhardt, an editor I’d bonded with when he worked on two of Studs’ later books.

For me, the opportunity to talk with the others about our old friend close to a year after his death was a joyful experience.

Of course, my original plans went kerflooey. For starters, much of my Terkel tape wasn’t usable. He was frail when we worked on Touch and Go, recovering from a lengthy hospitalization and a raft of ailments. He didn’t sound like himself. Fortunately, in 2001, Jay had asked me to interview Studs in Chicago for a Transom manifesto. That tape was perfect for my needs.

George Drury suggested I get in touch with German documentarians Hans-Ulrich Warner and Uli Swidler who kindly shared audio from television and radio documentaries they’d done on Chicago and Studs years back. Jesse Hardman heard about the piece and volunteered tape from Studs’ 90th birthday celebration. Studs’ son, Dan Terkell, dug out and sent tapes I requested from the house. Russell Lewis of the Chicago History Museum and Steve Robinson of WFMT graciously gave me permission to use material under their respective purviews. But there’s only so much you can pack into an hour, and much of what I gluttonously requested was eventually put aside.

Thanks to Sara Chapman and Tom Weinberg of Media Burn, Jyothi Natarajan of the New Press, David Krupp, and those interviewed for helping me get my hands on the photos.

At first,

“Matthew” on PRX

About Matthew

I first met Matthew in the spring of 2008 when I was a visiting artist teaching printmaking workshops at Laguna Honda Hospital (LHH) in San Francisco. LHH is the city’s long term care facility. Many of the residents are elderly and suffering from some form of dementia. Matthew stood out both because of his youth and clarity of mind. He wore a face-mask, got around in in a wheelchair and was obviously in recovery from some kind of procedure. I never knew much more than that during our time in the workshops. He also stood out as a skilled artist.

At the end our our six week long workshop Matthew was getting ready to be discharged from the hospital. He pulled me aside as people were leaving on the final day and asked me if I’d be interested in making some kind of art project based on the healing process he was going through. At this point he revealed what was behind the mask, a face undergoing dramatic transformation through a series of surgeries. When we first met he’d already undergone a couple of surgeries and as I write this he is recovering from his ninth. I was honored that he trusted me enough to show me his face – he had never taken his mask off during the workshops. I also felt daunted by the idea of making ‘art’ from this very heavy story. I had ethical concerns about what it would mean for me take his very personal experience and try to express it through my art practice. What I ended up proposing was that we make some kind of collaboration. It was obvious that he wanted to share his story and working together felt like the best way to approach it.

At the very beginning of our collaboration I asked Matthew to articulate what his goals were for this project. His response made a lot of sense to me. He said that he wanted to use art as a way to come to terms with his new appearance. We began by making drawings – portraits of him before and after the incident. We also took lots of photos and continue to do so before and after every surgery. In addition, we recorded his story in the form of audio interviews.

At the beginning of our work together Matthew and I were meeting once a week – making drawings, taking photos, etc. There were times when he was extremely depressed and struggling with illness and addiction. In addition to being his artistic collaborator I became a part of his support network in some small way, getting him out of the house for walks when he was too depressed to work and occasionally providing a shoulder to cry on. As time has passed I have seen him overcome incredible difficulty. He successfully completed a treatment program to help him kick meth addiction and is now comfortable enough with his appearance to have posted several of our photos on the web along with prolific blog postings about his progress through the surgeries. The more I get to know Matthew the more impressed I am by his resilience and his commitment to being a leader in AIDS and addiction advocacy in the face of his challenges.

Tech Notes

The interview was recorded at Matthew’s kitchen table with a Shure Beta 87A and a Marantz PMD 660. Editing was done in Logic Express. So far I have decided not to use music, mostly because I’m new to this form and overwhelmed at the thought of it! The subject matter is very sensitive and I’m nervous about overpowering the story with music, or choosing something that will feel trivializing. I am open to suggestions from the Transom community.

 

Additional Support for this work provided by

“Matthew” on PRX

About Matthew

I first met Matthew in the spring of 2008 when I was a visiting artist teaching printmaking workshops at Laguna Honda Hospital (LHH) in San Francisco. LHH is the city’s long term care facility. Many of the residents are elderly and suffering from some form of dementia. Matthew stood out both because of his youth and clarity of mind. He wore a face-mask, got around in in a wheelchair and was obviously in recovery from some kind of procedure. I never knew much more than that during our time in the workshops. He also stood out as a skilled artist.

At the end our our six week long workshop Matthew was getting ready to be discharged from the hospital. He pulled me aside as people were leaving on the final day and asked me if I’d be interested in making some kind of art project based on the healing process he was going through. At this point he revealed what was behind the mask, a face undergoing dramatic transformation through a series of surgeries. When we first met he’d already undergone a couple of surgeries and as I write this he is recovering from his ninth. I was honored that he trusted me enough to show me his face – he had never taken his mask off during the workshops. I also felt daunted by the idea of making ‘art’ from this very heavy story. I had ethical concerns about what it would mean for me take his very personal experience and try to express it through my art practice. What I ended up proposing was that we make some kind of collaboration. It was obvious that he wanted to share his story and working together felt like the best way to approach it.

At the very beginning of our collaboration I asked Matthew to articulate what his goals were for this project. His response made a lot of sense to me. He said that he wanted to use art as a way to come to terms with his new appearance. We began by making drawings – portraits of him before and after the incident. We also took lots of photos and continue to do so before and after every surgery. In addition, we recorded his story in the form of audio interviews.

At the beginning of our work together Matthew and I were meeting once a week – making drawings, taking photos, etc. There were times when he was extremely depressed and struggling with illness and addiction. In addition to being his artistic collaborator I became a part of his support network in some small way, getting him out of the house for walks when he was too depressed to work and occasionally providing a shoulder to cry on. As time has passed I have seen him overcome incredible difficulty. He successfully completed a treatment program to help him kick meth addiction and is now comfortable enough with his appearance to have posted several of our photos on the web along with prolific blog postings about his progress through the surgeries. The more I get to know Matthew the more impressed I am by his resilience and his commitment to being a leader in AIDS and addiction advocacy in the face of his challenges.

Tech Notes

The interview was recorded at Matthew’s kitchen table with a Shure Beta 87A and a Marantz PMD 660. Editing was done in Logic Express. So far I have decided not to use music, mostly because I’m new to this form and overwhelmed at the thought of it! The subject matter is very sensitive and I’m nervous about overpowering the story with music, or choosing something that will feel trivializing. I am open to suggestions from the Transom community.

 

Additional Support for this work provided by