Denver’s new “social justice art” is a 5-foot canvas boulder created by people who have lived on the streets

Rosie Kenny, known to all as “Squeaky,” has pink paint on the tip of her brush as she stands over a canvas splattered with the chaos of many artists. 

The section below her is too vacant and boring, like a giant green apple, or just a blob of nothing, she says as she begins to paint streaks of pink. The blob was like her mood — Kenny had admitted to feeling “nothing” and wished she was watching “General Hospital” instead of making art, but then felt moved when others shared that they were overwhelmed with life, lonely and scared for the future.

“I put some color with it and kind of lifted it up,” said Kenny, who is 70 years old and, until about three weeks ago, was living in a car. “You look at the shapes and you look at what you are feeling and some of it is sad and some of it is happy.”

The canvas is a project of “social justice art” that will give voice to people who don’t feel seen. Kenny and the other 15 or so artists are residents of Saint Francis Apartments, a six-story building in Denver’s Capitol Hill neighborhood that is home to about 50 people who were previously homeless.

Over three sessions in September, the residents are painting the canvas, cutting it into pieces and then putting it back together like a puzzle. The reconstructed painting will cover a 5-foot, round, wire armature in the shape of a boulder, to symbolize the barriers that held them back and the strength it takes to overcome them.

Artist Emma Balder, who is leading the project through an Arts in Society grant, will exhibit it in March in downtown Denver. The hope is that whoever purchases the piece will loan it to Saint Francis Apartments at Cathedral Square, which will display it on its property a few blocks east of the Capitol.

The project is called “Heard to be Seen, Seen to be Heard.” And as social justice art, its point is to evoke thoughts and conversation about equality, struggle and human rights. Residents who attend all three art sessions to create the project will receive $20 per hour, an incentive funded by the grant that assigns value to their time and, at the same time, creates consistency in the artistic process. 

“It’s about addressing some of the challenges that they face,” she said, “and the goal is really for their voices to be heard and to be amplified … to help reestablish their worth and their value within society.” 

More fundamentally, the art is also meant to serve as a healing process — a chance to talk, draw and paint about the trauma absorbed while living outside, and the mix of relief and worry that come with moving into housing. 

Dexter Kennon, 48, moved into Saint Francis Apartments at Cathedral Square a few weeks ago after sleeping in a car and outside in Aurora parks for the past three years. “I’m trying to get used to being alone,” he said. Outside, he was often surrounded by friends. 

He’s still adjusting to the feeling of having his own apartment and his own comfortable bed, and he tried to put it into words. “I’m loving it. I’m overwhelmed. I’m anxious. I’m happy.” 

Kennon used a color wheel labeled with emotions to help him pinpoint his feelings, then crouched above a huge rectangle of canvas stretched across the floor in a community room at the apartment complex. He held a brush in one hand and a paper plate swirled with turquoise paint in the other. 

The color wheel lists the most basic emotions at the center — sad, bad, mad. The emotions become more specific at the wheel’s outer rim — guilty, empty, remorseful. 

Before picking up their paint brushes, residents sat in a circle and chose the most relevant words. A few broke down in tears. One put an arm around the person weeping next to them. 

Sophia Jamison, 49, said she was “disgusted” at herself for not being a better mother to her children, some of whom are in jail or using drugs. She was also grateful that she doesn’t have any of the Health issues, including diabetes and difficulty walking, that others around the circle struggle with daily. “I thank God every day that I am not going through that, and so I should be able to step up and be a better mother and a better daughter right now,” she said. 

Kenny said she didn’t want to “get attached” to fellow residents or the Saint Francis staff. “I just want to be left the hell alone,” she said. “I’m content. But I just want to be left alone.” 

No more “keeping one eye open”

Everyone who moves into the building is recovering from trauma of some kind, said Kathy Carfrae, housing director for the building, one of three in Denver operated by Saint Francis Center. 

“When you are homeless your lives are so chaotic and you are trying to make sure your food needs are met,” she said. “Your day is consumed with all sorts of things and you are keeping one eye open. You come into housing and it’s four walls and it’s just you. Suddenly you are alone. It can be overwhelming.”

At the apartments, residents have time to focus on healing, which is sometimes painful. “You don’t need to fight anyone,” Carfrae said. “You don’t need to steal. You don’t need to sleep with one eye open because you’re afraid.”