Los Angeles Artists Says Earning Lots of Money Wasn't Enough

Artist Nichole Blackburn discovers giving donations of her work makes her feel well-rounded. She painted murals locally at Gulf Street Elementary in Wilmington and the skies internationally.

Los Angeles Artist Takes to the Skies Internationally and Locally

By Diana L. Chapman

Everyone understands skies, the artist says.

Financially, Nichole Blackburn was doing well. Her small business as a professional muralist and decorative painter was thriving. Money was streaming in. She enjoyed her work and the clients who hired her. She was, in fact, booked solid a year in advance.

But despite all the success and all the money, Nichole, who lives in Redondo Beach, found herself unhappy and deeply puzzled by what she was missing.

"The money wasn't buying me happiness," Nichole said during an interview at Gulf Avenue Elementary School in Wilmington where she had successfully pulled off two massive and vibrant murals teeming with wildlife, half of which were donated. "I had all those (paid) jobs and I wasn't feeling fulfilled. I felt empty."

Then the epiphany struck in 2005 when a group asked her Celadon Studio, which she still owns and operates today, to donate a mural to the Center for Troubled Youth in Long Beach -- a project she dove into head first asking the kids and staff to work with her to design the painting for a 15 foot wall in its "Therapy Room." Nichole discovered then she was swimming in waves of happiness and not long after launched a non-profit, Big Sky Countries. Not a believer necessarily in small ideas, the artist drummed up a plan that everyone understands: the "skies," she said. With each visit, she would link those skies around the world through her murals bringing the last sky she witnessed to the next country, state or town.

Each gigantic donation internationally included supplies and paint. And the orphanages and schools she approached eagerly snapped up on her offer.

Between 2007-2008, four pieces went up from Ireland to Thailand infecting each art work with a whirl of near mystical hues draped in a volatile color collection often making her pieces seem alive.

All that was needed as she traveled around the world to do her donated works was giant walls and children to help her design them. American travelers she knew suggested the locations.

  
In Phuket, Thailand, a school devastated by the 2004 Tsunami that carried away 40,000 people across Asia to their deaths, became a brighter and happier place the minute the artist stepped on the campus. With the children, a mega painting of colors splashed up on the wall with festive scenes of their lifestyles.

From there, she painted massive murals at Cranford Elementary School, an  inner city campus in Dublin; a Philippine orphanage where she found kids who were either abandoned, physically abused or child labor victims; and in Sucre, Bolivia at the Institute Psychopediagocico, where children were either orphaned or handicapped.

At each organization, she connected the world with patches of clouds, one sky at a time. Dublin received a scene from Thailand's heavens, the orphanage in the Philippines received Dublin's golden blue clouds, Bolivia received a peachy Philippine's sky and when she returned home she was driven by the Hurricane Katrina disaster and wound up painting murals at Gauthier Elementary (earlier devastated by Hurricane  Katrina and being rebuilt) and the O.T.T.P Youth Center for Inner City Teens in Long Beach.

 Children and staff are always included in coming up with designs, awash in a brilliant array of hues including a palette of thousands of colors. The children and staff draw out their ideas and Nichole brings their visions together in one mural. All an organization needs are big walls. Donations sent into her Big Sky Foundation help pay
for the art.

 "My happiness came from painting and donating my work," she said, while she continues to run her private studio. She now offers local schools and other organizations a way to purchase a mural and get a second one donated.

David Kooper, principal of Gulf Avenue Elementary, said he was thrilled to bring such an accomplished artist to his campus not just because of her exemplary work but because of her affinity with children.

"Through her art, we have recreated our school," the principal said. "She has created a wonderful atmosphere here at Gulf that our school community really loves. I love hearing parents, staff, and children telling me about their favorite mural. I love that they tell me: 'Nichole painted that animal for me.' or 'This one is my favorite mural.

"My favorite one will be the next one she does because every time she does one she outdoes herself."

It's true that the campus practically glows as two striking killer whales leap through indigo colored oceans surrounded by other aquatic creatures. On another wall, Gulf students convinced Nichole to paint a jungle land filled with exotic creatures and when they see her, stop and tell her they like her paintings.

Teacher Niels Goerrissen said he loves the murals too.

"They definitely bring life to our campus," he said. "It has always had a drab, pinkish color, very instructional and uninspiring. I often see students looking at and, surprisingly, touching the animals as if to get the feel of them. They have certainly made a difference in the overall spirit of the campus."

Nichole traces her success to one person -- her now retired art teacher, Ron Kooper, father of Gulf's principal, who helped mold her career when she attended Redondo Union High School. The teacher helped her pin down a scholarship in the Otis Art Center's Young Artist Program and she believes remembering him helps keep her grounded.

The older Kooper guffaws, saying that he hardly had to offer much guidance because she was "comfortable in her own skin" worked diligently and never "over did or under did her work."

He claims it didn't have much to do with him - and all to do with her own skills at counseling herself and using her talent exceptionally well.

His wife, Eleanor, however, said Nichole, who has a twin sister, Lori Blackburn, a travel writer, wasn't excited by academics and found her niche in his classroom. Art opened her eyes and her world and she has stayed in touch with the couple ever since. Nichole and her mother also established a $1,000 scholarship for an "outstanding" art student at his former school in his name.

As time went on, the Koopers said they discovered she was an "extraordinary person" especially when she began her non-profit.

"There's no question about her talent," Eleanor said who added she has gotten to know the artist because she always stayed in touch with the family. "What she does professionally is amazing. And then this work she donates is amazing. We are both in awe of her talent and her humanity."

Another extraordinary person in Nichole's life is her mother, Sonia Blackburn, who drove the artist every Saturday morning to the art school. Her parents divorced when the sisters were in their 20s.

"My Mom would wait in her car for the whole day while I took my art class," Blackburn said. "I would always come out when class was finished and see homeless people trying to wash her car!"

Today, Nichole says without all this help she might never had made it. Those who know her personally believe she's a fantastic artist.

In the end, perhaps, the best to judge the artist works are the kids who they were made for.

Wrote student Abraham Lazo, 4th grade: "I think we should thank the lady who did it for us. She was doing the painting for like a month and she sketched it out with a pencil before she started. You can see turtles, killer whales, seaweeds dories and fish. It makes me feel good to see our school look nice. And we've even had some comments from parents."

"The animals look very realistic. The colors are very bright and vibrant," said fourth grader Jazmin Guerreroage. "The murals make me feel happy and free."

Jefferson March, also in 4th grade, explained it this way: "The ocean had seaweed, starfish, seahorses, octopus, jelly fish, electric eels, all kind of fish and two killer whales. The painting of the rain forest had tigers, a waterfall, two giraffes, rhinos, zebras and vines.

"Those murals made me transform there."

View Nichole Blackburn's work at: http//:www.celeadonstyle.com
or http://www.bigskiescountry.com

Time to Censor Ourselves from Social Media Networking? One College Student Did It

Dear Readers: I am sorry for my lack of posts the last several months. I have been
having some personal health issues that have slowed me down. But I hope
to get up and running again soon. Here's a story I've been working on for a bit.
 Hopefully, others will come. Diana
 

Time To Shut Down Social Media Networks? That's What One College Kid Did When He Found It "Disturbing"

By Diana L. Chapman

It wasn't the ridiculous comments, the foul language, the mischievous jokes or the sexy, sometimes provocative photos people posted of themselves on social networks that made one college student drop out of the way mainstream society communicates today.

 It wasn't even the cruel, anonymous postings of "the ratchet girls" which targeted female high school students (some he knew) across the Los Angeles Harbor Area. The site drew from the girl's photographs on their Facebook pages and in essence posted which girls would "put out" on the internet. Calling the anonymous posters "idiots," he refused to look at that site.

But it was none of those things that convinced him to erase social networks from his life. He dropped all his communications via Facebook, then MySpace, then Twitter after he was standing around with four close friends. 

They weren't talking. 

Instead, all of them were click, click, clicking away on their messages and posts and he found that "disturbing." 

He's right. We  should find this disturbing as we teach ourselves with rapid speed not to talk to each other anymore. There are technological, snazzy middle man gadgets to do the communicating for us. That is scary and reminds me of Star Trek the Next Generation's alien species, the Borg, an entity of drones all connected to one main brain to rule their lives. (Could this soon be called, the Google?)

Still, I was astounded that any college student these days would check out of his social networks since both kids and adults seem to find few other ways to communicate. Who talks on a phone anymore? E-mail. It's done for. Those are obsolete. It's easier to send a message via Facebook saying "Sorry your father died," or "Why did you say that about me?" and become buoyant in a stream of cheap, meaningless gossip that permeates some sites like poison.

People even engage in conversational wars that are nasty and go on relentlessly. I'll never forget having written a column on the 15-year-old girl who died of an overdose in the insane chaos of the 2010 Electric Daisy Carnival at the Coliseum in Los Angeles.

Hoping for some way to cure the drug craze at those events, I wrote a column and received vicious comments not directed at me, but at a now dead girl. She should have taken care of herself. She was reckless fool for doing what she did. The anger was seething and mean with vitriolic taunts. But all I could see is this poor girl's family vibrating with such an intense loss and the nasty barbs skewering their dead daughter was not helping anything.

She was 15. Ok. Guys. Do you remember when you were that age and primed to do what: stupid things? That's how we learn.

The quick discussion with the college student was ironic for me as I was contemplating opting out of social networking for many reasons. There are good things about all these sites. I enjoy Facebook's reminders of friends birthdays and their requests for donations for their causes. I love the vacation photos friends post of their children, especially my friends in Zurich who post their munchkins skiing on snow white-covered slopes. In Monday's twin bombings at the Boston Marathon, runners found it often the only way to let their families know they were safe and sound while thousands of cell phones conked out during the catastrophe. 

Many resorted to texting.

 Since the good comes with the bad, there were many other reasons I debated quitting. Most of all, I was looking for ways to protect myself from myself. When I saw what people were posting I was stunned. I promised myself I wouldn't get sucked into that world and would never take time to post so much. (I  was wrong and even had a friend point it out.)

Also, it's what people post that can be so disconcerting not to mention unpredictable.

One morning, I was hit with an absolute horrific site scrolling through posts: a dog the size of a German shepherd had been completely skinned for his fur, his body just left abandoned and crumpled. I still can't get that image out of my head. Another college kid said he saw two boys light a kitten on fire. And some man, whipping a teenaged boy with a belt on his privates, had been posted on social networking sites including You Tube. I read all the comments about how cool it was this boy was getting beaten. I couldn't stop myself from saying something about that beating: "Why are any of us watching this?" I asked. By doing so, we are condoning what this man did.

Fortunately, no one commented back.

Another reason: I was finding myself in a near argument with a friend I really like. We were at lunch when she suddenly said: "We're you arguing with me?" on her posts she had put up about her parenting style. She had commented why she would not allow her two young elementary school boys hear much about the endless media coverage, most lately of the shooting massacre of 20 small children and six adult educators in Newtown, Ct. elementary school. She probably shielded them from Monday's bombings at the Boston Marathon saying she finds "no purpose" for it.

Perhaps she is 100 percent right.

But coming from a reporter background, I never shielded my son from such stories. I knew he would hear what I was working on and there would be discussions in our home and news constantly blaring through our house.

He knew about child abductions, terrorist attacks especially New York's 9/11, murders, plane crashes, fires etc. On 9/11, I had no choice. We were on a cruise ship in Alaska the day it happened. Ryan and I had entered an elevator at 5:30 a.m. on a mission to spot killer whales. Instead, we were greeted by a man, arms flailing, that the "world has gone to hell" adding the Pentagon was under attack as well as New York's Twin Towers.

None of the adults believed the seemingly crazy man, but my son, age 7 then, tugged my sleeve and told me: "He's not lying."

Sometimes you don't get the choice of what you want your kids to know. But it did take me aback when my friend thought I was attacking her parenting skills. I wasn't. I was just putting in my two cents that I had done it differently. And it worked. But opening a child's doors to catastrophe can't be done with all kids. Some are too sensitive and  I understand that. Only a parent knows their child well enough to decide.

 In the end, I was grateful that my girlfriend told me what her thoughts were and  made a mental note not to make comments that could land me in hot water or join the fracases I witness on Facebook and other sites. I do break the rules occasionally but try to keep my usage as minimal as possible.

 I post my stories to obtain interested readers. My comments now are mundane for the most part such as seeing someone's darling kid or pet photos. But I try to refrain because it's a) risky that I will say something I will later regret b) get sucked into that incredible time warp trap or c) get into fights with people, some friends, others strangers. 
   
I really don't need that additional stress. 

Concluding my new conditions, I studied Facebook where I'd find kernels of stories and enjoyed learning about issues I'd never heard of. Take the  Midway Island, filled with floating gulls in the sky that looks like paradise. It's an incredible, beautiful bird oasis with hundreds of birds riding the winds and hatching their chicks.

Then the truth hit as the photographer documented one after another of adult birds feeding themselves and their chicks with pieces of plastic, balloons, bottle caps and other trash stretching across their entire capacity of their stomachs. He repeatedly showed dead birds embedded with trash and others dying a slow, painful and razor sharp death. 

Chicks were dying too on the island. It was an incredible lesson because I had no idea how widespread our trash killing was. I was, fortunately able to decide if I wanted to watch this by connecting to the site. I was a bit more prepared. But with the beautiful dog, man's best friend, stripped of all his fur, I had no way to opt out. It just popped up and it crushed me for the day, the week, the month. I still see it. 

I will see it tomorrow. And the next day. 

Part of me said: Wait a minute?  Wasn't I learning from this too. I never knew anyone skinned dogs for fur, a practice in China according to People for the Ethical Treatments of Animals (PETA) and other animal rights agencies. 

But it's one thing to research and discover these truths and another to see such a grim graphic over breakfast with no warning. That's kind of like turning on the television and showing all the body parts strewn around from a bombing.

Today, so much goes on in swirls and twirls across the internet, with fleeting moments scurried here and there. It's hard to decide what to do and what's right. There are no written rules. And how much is too much?

Just a few months back, I saw an extraordinary comment from a Facebook friend complaining about people who read her site but failed to voice any opinions. She believed those people were scary and creepy (yep, that would be me) and had no right to visit her page.

Now that's confusing. I didn't think I had to comment on what people were posting. It seems too that so  many young people don't understand that the remarks they make can cost them jobs and come back to haunt them in other nasty ways, such as when anonymous users snatched up oft revealing photos of the Harbor area girl's own sites. They called out the girls sexual value and used the most pornographic words I've ever seen. 

They were so raunchy and disgusting I couldn't even consider putting them in the my stories, not to mention the humiliating cruelty that went on.

But kids aren't the only ones failing to censor themselves. Adults are too.

Was I mad my friend asked me later after she told me about her concerns of my comments on her shielding her kids from upsetting news stories? Of course not, I told her. I figure she did me a favor saving me from myself and my sometimes non-discerning nature. I could have commented on something really stupid and paid for it later.

And hopefully, I haven't done that already.

I asked that college student if he missed the sites. No, he said. The only thing he misses is Twitter because it's short, and sometimes, sweet to tweet.