Teaching artists can now apply for grant funding centered on programs for older Wyomingites.

The Creative Aging Project Grant, from the Wyoming Arts Council, is open to teaching artists and nonprofit arts organizations, often libraries and other community centers. The grant funds $2,500 per program and uses the creative aging arts education model, offering eight weeks of sequential skills-building classes culminating in a community event.

Josh Chrysler, folklorist and health and wellness specialist for the Wyoming Arts Council, said the focus on older adults comes from a pillar of the council's mission.

"These programs should be available throughout our life span," Chrysler contended. "Which is predicated on the understanding that participating in the arts is healthy for you."

Engaging in the arts plays a fundamental role in slowing cognitive decline and ensuring a high quality of life, according to a 2023 study. Applications for the Creative Aging grant are due July 10.

Denica Shell has been working with the program for three years now, which led to a full-time job at the Buffalo Arts Center. She is glad to be able to offer the programming to older adults for free and enjoys helping students reconnect to activities they have not done in a while.


"One thing that I've heard from several students is they really loved art as a kid or always wanted to learn certain things and are basically coming back 50, 60 years after and have this opportunity to explore something that they hadn't previously," Shell observed.

Shell utilizes various media in her classes, including drawing and watercolor, although the grant covers other forms of media, too.

A Pennsylvania literacy organization is commemorating the Juneteenth holiday by highlighting the history and contributions of Black people in the United States through literacy and artistic freedom.

Vanesse Lloyd-Sgambati, founder of the African American Children's Book Project, said books are vital to communities of color. She explained that before the Emancipation Proclamation was signed in 1863, it was against the law in some states for enslaved people and freed Black people to be educated.

"The Emancipation Proclamation not only freed enslaved people, but it also gave Black people the opportunity to freely be able to read, write and spell," she explained.

In 2021, President Joe Biden signed a bill making Juneteenth a national holiday, which means federal and some local offices are closed, as well as banks and the U.S. Postal Service.

President Donald Trump has made rolling back diversity, equity and inclusion practices a major part of his platform. He has also expressed an interest in ending the Juneteenth holiday, but has not taken any action.

Lloyd-Sgambati said her group promotes books by and about Black authors to preserve Black history, adding that families play a key role in keeping that history alive, especially as schools cut back on cultural and DEI programs.

"If they're not teaching Black history in the schools, then it's your obligation," she continued. "Just like you nourish your children with food, the proper food, with clothing, it is important that you nourish your children with books - because if you can read, you can succeed."

Lloyd-Sgambati added that the American Library Association conference, set for later this month in Philadelphia, brings together global library leaders to share bold ideas and shape the future of libraries. She's producing two panels, one focused on children, the other for adults. More details are online on the ALA website.

By Frankie (Amy) Felegy for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Mike Moen for Minnesota News Connection reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Poetry really is everywhere—in love, in everyday language, in life lessons—and sidewalks across the Midwest are proving it. 

Head down a given street in certain Midwestern cities and you’ll come across (and maybe even step on or roll over) poems. 

Sidewalk poetry programs have risen across the region, stemming from an initiative started in St. Paul, Minnesota by prolific behavioral artist Marcus Young 楊墨 back in 2008. It was the first sidewalk poetry program in the country, inspired by sidewalk contractor stamps. 

“If you can print that in the sidewalks, can you print other things like poems?” he remembers thinking. “It all goes back to our universal desire that when we see wet concrete, we want to put our finger in it and just mark that, ‘I was here.’”

Public Art St. Paul’s Sidewalk Poetry “allows city residents to claim the sidewalks as their book pages” every spring when the public works department repairs damaged pavement. 

The premise: Invite poets to send in short poems in Dakota, English, Hmong, Somali, and Spanish; choose a handful; create stamps; apply to wet concrete.

“It has changed a sidewalk repair program and turned it into a publishing force,” Young says. 

Since the program began, it has stamped over 1,200 poems—enough for everyone living in St. Paul to walk to a sidewalk poem in under 10 minutes.

A four-hour drive east lands you in Appleton, Wisconsin, with its own program inspired by St. Paul’s. The city announced five poetic winners just last week, after a community panel narrowed down submissions from nearly 100. 

“It’s a beautiful art form,” says librarian Peter Kotarba, who works with Appleton’s sidewalk poetry program. “Poetry, especially in sidewalk poetry, is permission. It’s giving people permission to feel maybe what’s in that poem, but also permission to find their own avenue of expression.” 

Kotarba says he only sees programs like these growing. He’s planning to add QR codes on signs near the poems so passersby can hear audio recordings from the authors. And he recently fielded a call from a small city in northern California looking to start a similar effort. 

“It is an opportunity for the reader to step into someone else’s world,” or even just another state, he says, “to see reflections of themselves or others around them.”

Young says footpaths can be—and are—more than safe transportation venues. He wanted to instill “elevated, beguiling moments” in someone’s dog-walk or commute. 

“Bring a bit of reassurance, bring a bit of comfort, a bit of delight and mystery to your life,” Young says. “Your life is, yes, this ordinary moment, but it’s also this extraordinary moment.”


Frankie (Amy) Felegy wrote this story for Arts Midwest.

By Frankie (Amy) Felegy for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Mark Moran for Iowa News Service reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Inside a two-story, century-old brick fortress, sun shines through stained glass artworks. 

Music serenades down the hall; a koi pond will soon reflect a kaleidoscope of oranges and whites. Magic happens here. 

But it isn’t a fairytale—this is Cedar Rapids, Iowa. 

Eastern Iowa Arts Academy—a nonprofit offering accessible arts education—recently purchased this historic Arthur Elementary school, which was meant to be demolished.

“It’s like a whole new place … You can unwind. You can be creative. You can be exactly who you want to be here. It’s a safe place,” says Heather Wagner, the organization’s executive director.

The building’s plans include a hallway gallery, open studio spaces, and a community room with a food pantry, clothing closet, and mental health support. Folks can rent out instruments; there’s a sensory room, and a kitchen and gym rental. 

Students can sign up for band practice, create in the community maker’s space, or record tracks at the studio.

Music as Healing

One of those students, Zoe Wolrab, is a high school senior involved in three rock bands through the academy. She sings and plays bass guitar, covering artists from Carol King to Toto.

“When I was 14, I was kind of struggling a lot, just focusing in school and wanting to go to school in the first place. And I was also struggling a lot mentally,” Wolrab says.

So their mom suggested getting involved with music. Joining after-school sessions at Eastern Iowa Arts Academy perhaps saved their life, says Wolrab.

“Music is what I want in my life now. This kind of helped me find my career path in the first place. I just want to keep doing this forever.”

The academy is open to students of all ages and abilities, who pay full or partial memberships up to $190 or so a year. By the next three years, organizers plan to have full ADA-accessible programming.

It’s for everybody—by everybody. 

“The whole community coming together is working … on making this the arts hub for this area,” Wagner says. 

Meeting a Creative Need 

When bringing folks back to the academy’s previous building after pandemic restrictions, the problem was clear: The demand was just too high. 

“They came back in droves,” Wagner says of the students. “The need for expression in the arts was huge.” 

Classes started racking up waiting lists and students wanted more private instrument lessons. The academy was running out of room. With the help of a cohort grant through the Iowa Arts Council, the team secured the school for $260K. 

The building, though largely untouched save some painting, has transformed into an arts refuge. Wagner says people can come just as they are: There’s no need to put on a mask, empty your wallets, or be uncomfortable.

She just wants people to feel restored, much like the building’s newfound purpose. 

“Art can do what it’s supposed to do. People can kind of bury themselves in the art,” Wagner says. “You can just heal. And that’s what it’s all about.”


Frankie (Amy) Felegy wrote this story for Arts Midwest.


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