By Ann Thomas for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Mark Moran for Iowa News Service reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Natural light floods through large windows lining nearly every wall of the Trappist Caskets production facility in northeast Iowa, wrapping it in view of New Melleray Abbey's 3,400 acres, 1,200 of which are abundant in timber.

The storage racks at Trappist Caskets, designed and fabricated by master welder Brother Dennis, stretch six caskets tall between the concrete floor and the rafters that span the length of the shipping bay. This area manages the ebb and flow of production and shipping. The goal is to keep them full at all times. Today, there are several vacancies-demand has been very high.

At first glance, the racks are overwhelming for their enormity, and the realization that each space represents an individual awaiting preparation for burial adds more gravity.

A wealth of midwestern natural resources, combined with the Trappist monks of New Melleray's need to financially support themselves through their own labor and maintain a life steeped in prayer, inspired its entry into casket manufacturing in 1999.

Each casket crafted by monks and employees at this facility in Peosta, Iowa, captures unrepeatable characteristics in walnut, oak, cherry or pine grain. But one casket on the shipping bay's floor this Tuesday stands out. Its design and far deeper red draw the eye quicker than all other cherry caskets in the shelving.

The lone casket served its owner first as a coffee table, its cherry wood aging in open air for 20 years. Rings left by glasses mark the lid's finish. With upholstering completed this morning, and its lid newly reinforced, this old cherry casket is on its way to the funeral home so as to serve the priest in death who purchased it. He will be buried in it within the next few days. Paul Pankowski, Production Manager for Trappist Caskets, notes it isn't uncommon for caskets to be purchased and turned into bookshelves, wine racks, and coffee tables, then for owners to eventually be buried in them.

The design for these have evolved since the cherry wood one was built. Recent interest in green burials necessitates biodegradable joinery and alternate handles, meaning designs continue to evolve.

Pankowski oversees all aspects of production on the circuitous workshop floor, and can identify by eye where boards moving their way through originated. He points out lighter tones that range through black walnut of Wisconsin and Missouri. Iowa's distinguishes itself from all others by richness of its depth, and the incomparable hardness of central Iowa's oak dulls blades quicker than any other wood. The whiteness and clarity of pine harvested from the monks' own land is easily recognizable in contrast to pine sourced from other areas.

For Brother Joseph, it's hard to believe the growth of this work. From the production facility's modest beginnings in the monks' barns to the far reaching ties maintained through prayer and memorial tree plantings for those buried in Trappist Caskets and their families-the span is remarkable.

Brother Joseph, who began in those barns in 2006 and continues to work in varied roles from woodworking to upholstering in the new facility completed in 2007, recalls how cramped and dusty the barns were. He stresses how critical the employment of nearby community members is now - to meet the high demand for their caskets and to ensure the monks' freedom to maintain the rhythm of monastic life.

The monks' concern for land stewardship led Brother Joseph to pursue the hire of their full-time forester, John Schroeder, six years ago. Schroeder is initiating large scale prairie restoration and reforestation projects which prioritize the needs of New Melleray Abbey's land and creeks lying on the cusp of Iowa's Driftless region. It is an area spared by the grinding weight of glaciers moving out of the midwest around 12,000 years ago. This land's delicate ecological balance and exceptionally rich soil are responsible for traits found in the trees that grow here.

Among the most grateful customers Trappist Caskets serves are parents who must bury their children. The monks offer these caskets free of charge. Funeral homes and hospitals are quick to connect families in these tragic circumstances to the monks. The Federal Trade Commission's Funeral Rule ensures that consumers are not limited to caskets offered by funeral homes for purchase and use, and anyone is free to contact Trappist Caskets, whose staff is always ready to guide families through meeting needs.

Trappist Caskets' employees can relate to this devastating experience. Production Manager Paul Pankowski and his wife lost a premature baby, and his first-hand knowledge infuses compassion in every step of the production process. His three-decade long experience within strict quality parameters of the custom kitchen cabinetry business prior to working at Trappist Caskets also informs his approach to all he does.

While the end goal of both industries is perfection, his purpose, as well as all who work at Trappist Caskets, is not to turn a profit, but rather offer an encounter with beauty and consolation during a time of grief.


Ann Thomas wrote this story for Arts Midwest.


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By Randiah Camille Green for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Chrystal Blair for Michigan News Connection reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

A waft of what smells like fresh cut grass and burnt oil hangs in the air of Detroit's East Canfield neighborhood. The eerie smell comes from the nearby Stellantis Mack Assembly Plant, which has received repeated air quality violations for paint and solvent odors over the last several years. In March, Stellantis agreed to pay a $84,420 fine from the Michigan Department of Environment, Great Lakes, and Energy (EGLE) for air quality violations for one of its plants in the same neighborhood. This neighborhood has one of the highest rates of asthma hospitalization of children under 18.

Despite its foreboding presence, residents like sisters Kim and Rhonda Theus are finding intentional ways to erect beauty. They run the nonprofit Canfield Consortium, which repurposes vacant lots for things like community gardens and public art. They're even renovating a former corner store into a coffee shop and art gallery, and carving out a future bike path.

Honoring Place and People

Their latest project is the Detroit Remediation Forest, a forest bathing installation located in the East Canfield Art Park that they hope will help mitigate air pollution from the Stellantis complex. The forest is anchored by a gold sculpture called "New Forest, Ancient Thrones" by New York-based artist and activist Jordan Weber. The piece has an air quality monitor that tells residents the particulate matter levels in the air.

It's shaped like two crowns, as an ode to Queen Idia of Benin (modern-day Nigeria) and Queen Ranavalona III of Madagascar who fought colonization. The crowns also honor Kim and Rhonda as modern-day queens.

"It's a strong symbolic representation of the African diasporic experience and the trauma that's in the land in both Africa and the U.S.," Weber said. "There's the 2008 housing crisis where you see what happened to the legacy of Black homeownership in Detroit, for example. Queen Ranavalona was exiled from Madagascar and forced to live in Europe for the remainder of her life, and that's no different to me than us being displaced in our communities where we have [generations] of families who literally sweat and bled to get that land."

Weber's sculpture was unveiled to the public in May. A second phase of the forest installation will include planting air-purifying conifers like white pine and fir in partnership with the Greening of Detroit, and installing an elevated walkway. It will also host outdoor programming for the Barack Obama Leadership Academy across the street.

"New Forest, Ancient Thrones," is the newest addition to the East Canfield Art Park, which the Theus sisters opened in 2021 on a vacant corner. Kim and Rhonda wanted to leverage the power of art to spark conversations on environmental issues, gentrification, and Black representation.

The first art piece in the park was a bronze sculpture by Detroit sculptor Austen Brantley called "Boy Holds Flower." In that piece, a young Black boy sits cross legged as he gazes in admiration at a flower he's just picked. It's important for the children attending the Barack Obama Leadership Academy to have this image of joyful Black boyhood. The park also includes a "Hood Closed to Gentrifiers" sign by artist Bryce Detroit.

Guided by Purpose and Legacy

Kim and Rhonda remember when the neighborhood was a bustling, Black middle class area - before the Stellantis plant expanded its footprint and displaced their neighbors and before Detroit's foreclosure crisis caused families to lose their homes.

"There was a middle school that we went to, a [recreation] center, playgrounds, and all those things are gone," said Kim "People who are building families won't move to a neighborhood where they don't have those types of amenities, so a lot of the work that we're doing at Canfield Consortium is addressing things like that."

Weber was selected as an artist-in-residence by Sidewalk Detroit, a place-keeping organization championing public art and urban greenspace. Sidewalk Detroit Director and Founder Ryan Myers-Johnson said that during planning meetings, East Canfield residents stressed that any art brought to their neighborhood should address issues they are facing instead of beautification.

"We started to really understand the problem with Stellantis and the air quality issues and how [the plant] is touted as bringing in jobs and not something that is actually destroying health and the fabric of this neighborhood," Myers-Johnson said. "So, we needed somebody rooted in understanding spatial trauma and environmental justice issues."

Reclaiming their neighborhood is Kim and Rhonda's way of preserving the legacy of families like theirs who moved to Detroit to escape the Jim Crow South.

"Our parents were born and raised in Tennessee ... The only jobs they could get there were either domestic work or sharecropping. They wanted to buy a home and build a family, so they left everything they knew in Tennessee to move to Detroit and bought a house in East Canfield Village," Rhonda said. "The majority of people that live here come from the same situation... so these houses have a powerful legacy."


Randiah Camille Green wrote this story for Arts Midwest.

By Kristy Alpert for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Terri Dee for Illinois News Connection reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

On any given Friday night in the Township of O’Fallon, the loudest cheers do not come after a touchdown or a field goal. The real roaring begins the moment the final note of the halftime performance reverberates through the stadium. 

In this Illinois suburb, music is the main event; specifically, the town’s beloved high school marching band. Across the town, band fan gear is sold in toddler sizes, lawns proudly proclaim that a “Marching Panther Lives Here,” and weekly marching practices often have cheering sections. 

“I believe the band is the identity of the town,” explains Beth Mueller, a former O’Fallon band member (1988-1992) and current band parent. “It goes beyond just an activity that kids participate in; our band really plays an active role in the community and our community has a lot of pride and passion for the band program.”

The town’s passion was put to the test during the 2013-2014 school year, when district wide budget cuts threatened to silence the music program. Parents showed up in astounding numbers at town hall meetings saying cutting the music program would be “taking away their foundation.” During a time when band programs were being cut throughout the Midwest, the O’Fallon community refused to let theirs go. 

Along with the band director’s fearless advocacy, the community started a nonprofit called Lifelong Music in O’Fallon Schools, which helped explore grants and sought creative ways to save the music. 

“The community rallied around, and so did our school district, and we were able to kind of run it [the band program] through the Parks and Rec … until we were able to bounce back the following year with funding,” recalls Melissa Gustafson-Hinds, performing arts department chair and director of bands for the O’Fallon Township High School. “It was a one-year scare that we got through, and I would be really surprised if anything like that happened again.”

Thanks to the organization and the band booster club, the band’s budget has never been stronger, and neither has the community’s support, cheering the band on as they bring back numerous national awards—including the coveted John Philips Sousa Sudler Shield award—and as they participate in some of the country’s most prestigious national events, like the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and the Tournament of Roses Parade.

“We’re always looking for ways to highlight our students, because they are so great, but we also try to be humble within our community. … we do try to find ways to showcase their talents and to reward them so the community and the nation know that we have something special,” says Gustafson-Hinds. 

They provide opportunities for the musicians to volunteer around town, like offering free community performances and creating leadership groups to support annual events for the town’s veterans and local charities. “I think it’s important for our students to learn the importance of giving back,” she adds. 

And in O’Fallon, Illinois, that strength is derived from altruism, both from the many talented young musicians and from the community that supports them.


Kristy Alpert wrote this story for Arts Midwest.

By Jacqueline Kehoe for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Mike Moen for Wisconsin News Connection reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Yerkes Observatory, in Williams Bay, Wisconsin, calls itself a 125-year-old start-up. Widely regarded as America’s most historic observatory—names like Carl Sagan, Edwin Hubble, and Nancy Grace Roman once dashing through its hallways—Yerkes seemed destined to become a dusty museum. And then, growing like a nascent star, it found a second life.

“The University of Chicago couldn’t make this facility work exclusively as an observatory,” says Walt Chadick, Yerkes’ director of programs and external affairs. Observatories are in the sky, or on mountaintops in faraway lands—not subject to the light pollution of Chicago. When the Yerkes Future Foundation took over in 2020, they needed a new plan. “We realized we needed to branch out beyond what astronomy is to what people make based on astronomy,” says Chadick. That’s how we could make an impact on our community.”

Reopened in May 2022, Yerkes has already put its mission to work: Poet laureates, Grammy winners, NASA sculptors, Pulitzer-winning authors, and composers and artists across nearly every genre have gathered here to be inspired by astronomy. The result? Ideas as big as the cosmos.

Prior to the University of Chicago handing over the reins to the Yerkes Future Foundation, the aging facility was slowly becoming an archaeological site. “They had the occasional Saturday tour,” explains Dr. Amanda Bauer, deputy director and Yerkes’ head of science and education. “They ran summer camps and had a bunch of 3D printers—but it was more of a museum as opposed to whatever you call what we are now.” 

When pressed, Bauer calls Yerkes a “science destination.” She quickly adds caveats: the history, the art, the architecture, and the landscape—Yerkes is an Olmsted site and an accredited arboretum.

Those caveats have served as Yerkes’ artistic compass: US Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith read “Life on Mars” under the gaze of the Great Refractor, the largest refracting telescope in the world; 30 musicians, led by Grammy Award-winning ensemble Eighth Blackbird, composed and performed new works based on star images and plates; Ashley Zelinskie, the official sculptor for NASA, created a custom work evoking light bending through spacetime, infused with nods to Yerkes’ historic details; and the world’s largest glass tree, blown onsite, marked Christmas. “Connecting our material to art—we’ve got the largest glass lens used for astronomy, 180,000 glass plates—that’s the through line for all of these cross-pollinated, big ideas,” says Bauer. “That’s the sort of thing we’re doing here.”

In 2024, the Blackbird Creative Lab is back alongside more summer events, from a puppet show directed by Ann Hamilton, a visual artist known for her large-scale multimedia installations, to a night with Jonathan Bailey Holland, dean of music at Northwestern University. Artists “go down that road of what is the science of music and art,” says Chadick, “using old astronomy equipment, using books and our plate collection to inform composition. We keep astronomy at our core, and then we bridge-build from there.”


Jacqueline Kehoe wrote this story for Arts Midwest.


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