“…And I can do this with my hands, by creating my little horse, which symbolizes the power that comes from our choices, our actions, even in the face of despair.”

This little horse actually means something really big.
This little horse actually means something really big.

My post on 9/11 reminds me that in the face of tragedy, we always have the power of our choices.

I’ve been silent here for awhile, as we’ve wrapped up our mammoth move to Northern California. And even when I’m writing regularly, I usually stick to subjects I consider “safe” for me: Writing about the business of art, writing about making art has affected my life, sharing the lessons I’ve found in wall-climbing, martial arts, hospice, parenthood and silly pets as I muddle through life.

None of that is changing. But there is something that’s been building, building lately. If you follow me on Facebook, you may have wondered why I’ve gone all “social justice-y” as my social worker daughter Robin so aptly puts it.

I’ve decided to speak out about white privilege and racism on my blog.

Rest assured that this will not dominate my writing. That is for more knowledgeable, articulate writers than I.

But let me explain how I got here.

Several years ago, our family became involved with an abusive person who is black. In his manipulation of our family, many topics revolving around race and class were used as tools to bully and intimidate. We became ‘hyper-allergic’ to anything that reminded us of that difficult period in our lives.

My daughter is the one who walked us back from that hard place. She made us realize that the way these issues were used was hurtful, but the truth of them was valid. Not only valid, but devastating in their consequences for people of color.

I began to examine many of the things I say and believe that I felt made me a ‘liberal’, a non-racist person. I was dismayed to realize I was oblivious to what more than a third of the people in the United States experience every single day of their lives. (Numbers vary, but roughly only 62% of the U.S. population consists of non-Hispanic white people.) The daily life of people of color in our country is very, very different than anything I have ever experienced. The death of Trayvon Martin opened my eyes even more.

More recently, we’ve gotten to know our new neighbors, a naturalized American of Mexican ancestry and her white husband. I had no idea of the extent of hostilities experienced by Hispanics in California. I was totally ignorant of the police shooting/death of Andy Lopez. Soon after, the events in Ferguson, MO took place, and the grand jury decision was made. Days later, the results of the Eric Garner grand jury were announced.

As I educated myself about these incidents, more and more examples of similar tragedies arose. I felt overwhelmed. But I realized I could no longer turn away.

Normally, I would slowly return to my ‘normal life’, feeling sad but sidelined and powerless to change anything. But as I learned even more, something shifted.

It happened after I read a powerful post from a black blogger. (Deep apologies, I can’t find the appropriate link, but will find it later. I need to get this written NOW!) She noted that her white followers, white people, even her own white friends, were being remarkably silent on these issues, even on Facebook where a cute cat video can go viral in seconds. She checked around, and found this was the case for other bloggers of color, too. “Where are the white people??” she asked.

Oh. Uh…. Yeah. That would be me.

Why WAS I being silent? What was holding me back?? Believing that these events don’t affect me? That I have nothing useful to say? Was I worried about appropriating a people-of-color cultural narrative?

I realized it doesn’t matter.

Andy Lopez could have been my kid, a young man who loves his Airsoft games with his friends. Except that my kid does it in the woods of New Hampshire, on private property, whereas poorer kids of color play in parks. And poorer kids of color get shot on sight, whereas my kid is white and would probably NOT be shot.

Andy Lopez could have been my kid. But saying, “There but for the grace of God…” doesn’t do it for me anymore. Because Andy Lopez deserves grace, too.

What about simply standing up and saying, “I stand with you”….?
What about simply saying, “I believe this is unjust and intolerable”….?
What about simply saying, “We have to find a way to change this”….?

I found I could no longer tolerate remaining silent.

And I began to post on Facebook about it.

The first post created quite a stir!

Things I’ve been told lately when discussing Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Andy Lopez, Tamir Rice…..
“He wasn’t a good kid, he’d just stolen cigarettes from a store!”
Me: “Do we shoot to kill when teens shoplift?”
“He lived in an awful neighborhood!”
Me: “He didn’t choose to live there. Probably his parents didn’t, either.”
“Why do those parents let their kids play with real-looking guns??”
Me: “Have you WALKED through a WalMart lately?? And heck, I had a preschooler chew his organic peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich into a gun and pretend to shoot it!”
“Why don’t those parents teach their kids not to wave a play gun at a police officer?”
Me: “I’m sure they did. But the operative word here is…’kids’….”
“Andy Lopez was a big kid. He looked like an adult!”
Me: “He didn’t choose that, either. And even an adult shouldn’t be shot on sight for carrying a AirSoft gun.”
“He wore a hoodie! That’s a gang sign!”
Me: I don’t even know what to say

In my passion to be more involved, I alienated some people, good people. I incurred endless arguments from well-meaning people who explained to me why these victims don’t deserve my compassion. I became more frustrated as I saw people endlessly defending their own points of view, while not even really considering mine.

I say one thing to these people: I’m sorry I didn’t respect your journey.

I don’t want to respect their point of view–I try, but I’m not that evolved!–but I have to. “Let go, let God”, says a wiser friend than I. I get it. Everybody has their own journey to make. I’m at a different place in mine, but it’s not for me to say where you should be in yours.

Neither will I become silent. My art, why I make it, and why it seems to matter so much to other people, are all wrapped up in my journey. I cannot separate my art from my activism. That’s why it seemed so right to take my simple earnings from my very first open studio here, and walk around the corner to donate it all to the Center for Peace and Justice in Sonoma County.

So my manifesto which begins today, as an early “New Year’s Resolution”. Or a “New Life Resolution”, if you will. I will hold onto the other core issues I treasure–humane rescue of animals, the spirituality of art, hospice, homelessness.

But there will be a few additions:

I will share my views openly (and peacefully!) when and where I can about social justice for people of color.

I will continue to examine my own deeply rooted beliefs and assumptions that keep me from being engaged.

I will support accountability for those in power.

I will support those who write and work for these issues, with my respect and my pocketbook.

I will not hide behind rationalizing, and defensiveness, and silence.

Because only our silence stands in the way of real justice.

And here’s my manifesto for 9/11:


Today is my birthday. A Google alert tells me that today is the anniversary of the day the Lascaux cave was discovered by four teenaged boys who followed their lost dog down a hole.
In all these years I’ve made artwork inspired by the Lascaux cave, I never knew this.

It makes this piece (which I wrote on 9/11, my 49th birthday) even more poignant to me….


The events of September 11, 2001 were almost too horrible to contemplate. The world seemed filled with evidence of hate, destruction and despair. As I watched events unfold, I was aware of my own reactions of anger and hate for the people who could stoop this low, and overwhelming sympathy for those whose lives were so carelessly taken in these acts of violence.

I went to my studio later, lost in despair and fearful of the new world that awaited us. As I worked, I couldn’t help thinking, “What does it matter that I make these little horses? What relevance do they have in the light of this tragic event?” I kept working as I thought.

The Cave Paintings of Lascaux…

Soon, however, it dawned on me. When the Lascaux cave paintings were created, the Ice Age was ending. The climate was changing, the great glaciers were retreating. The grasslands disappeared, and with them, the huge herds of animals that followed them. These ancient people watched as their entire way of life changed and disappeared. Some archaeologists now think the cave paintings were created to call the animals back.

Even as we stand, fearful and afraid at the dawn of a new age, so did they stand and watch as their world changed around them. They were afraid and perhaps filled with despair. But they went into the dark cave and created the most profoundly beautiful and evocative art the world has ever seen. Poignant in its message (though we cannot read it), we still feel its power 17,000 years later.

The Dawn of a New Morning…

We, too, stand at the dawn of a new morning. We, too, are afraid and despairing about what those changes will mean to us, as a nation and as individuals. We have choices to make about how we will meet those changes.

Life is not about what happens to us, but how we get through what happens to us. The kind of person we want to be determines the kind of choices we make.

We can choose how we face life.

The Choices We Make…

As an artist, I choose to affirm the creative force of the universe. In my own small way, I must stand on the side of creativity—to grow, to understand, to move forward in a constructive way, and to act in whatever way I can to honor this force. I can do this globally, by contributing to causes that seek to alleviate the conditions that bring acts of horror like this to the world. I can do this locally, by holding my family and loved ones close, and honoring the creative spirit of all other people. And I can do this with my hands, by creating my little horse, which symbolizes the power that comes from our choices, our actions, even in the face of despair.

Luann Udell

Author: Luann Udell

I find it just as important to write about my art as to make it. I am fascinated by stories. You can tell when people are speaking their truth--their eyes light up, their voices become strong, their entire body posture becomes powerful and upright. I love it when people get to this place in their work, their relationships, their art. As I work from this powerful place in MY heart, I share this process with others--so they have a strong place to stand, too. Because the world needs our beautiful art. All of it we can make, as fast as we can! Whether it's a bowl, a painting, a song, a garden, a story, if it makes our world a better place, we need to do everything in our power to get it out there.

16 thoughts on “MANIFESTO 2015”

  1. Luann, you put into words (very beautifully) what I feel. Thus you help me to see a little clearer. Thank you for sharing your heart…….jackie


  2. Thank you so much for your moving and beautiful piece. Your manifesto is inspiring and I too would like to follow your manifesto in my life. Thank you for your powerful words.


  3. Kudos, LuAnn. I, too, wrestled with the horror of what was/is happening in our nation, reflected in the shooting of black people by white cops. I have a son who was a state trooper in Alaska, a fine one, thus I have a view into the view of the enforcement people. I, too, struggled with what to do to express my deep desire for acceptance of others, in their essential humanness, and for peace. I, too, came to the conclusion that I must speak out, in person, when the subject arises, and on social media. I’ve reposted especially well stated comments that reflect the depth and complexity of the situation, in addition to outrage, and show the way forward. And I continue to be glad I purchased one of your horses a few years ago. It is a treasure, and always garners positive comments.


    1. First, Rosemary, thank you for supporting my art, and letting me know how much you continue to enjoy it. That means so much to me!
      And I want to stress this point: I don’t intend to criminalize ALL law enforcement officers, and I know the violence isn’t always white-on-black. I believe many people enter law enforcement with a strong desire to protect and serve to the best of their abilities. And I don’t believe all police officers are racist.
      But there IS an inherent problem when police officers begin to see the communities they serve, as ‘the enemy’. It changes the narrative in dangerous ways, and increases the fear and anger in the community. That’s the unaffordable cost of institutional racism.
      And when our system of justice begins to protect these “institutional narratives” at the expense of the people who live in that community…. Well, that’s when all hell breaks loose.
      I have to believe there is a better way out of this.


  4. I follow your blog for a quite some time now and I enjoy reading about your thoughts. I follow several blogs from artist in the us (as well as blogs with from other areas) and it helps me to get a different viewpoint from the us than the one created by the media be it tv, newspapers, american or international ones.

    Coming from a psychologist family (I went another way, I studied biology ^^) that also is highly political active (I was on my first demonstrations as a child) I am debating a lot of the questions quite often. One basic thing that also plays into these problems about perception is a quite simple one: The desire of the own narrative. One basic part of this is that nobody believes to be the bad guy. Our own self-image could not stand it. The other part is the desire for safety and stability (including the trust in the hierarchy and structures).

    If someone who should be the right and good guy like the police officers (killing the kid), it is for a lot of people easier to bear if they find the arguments that would justify the actions of the police officers. This is not a rational thing but happening at the subconcience level. To have a simple mistake happening that can be explained (the hood, the gun, whatever other nonsense) is easier than to accept (especially emotionally) that the authorities in the system and society you live in actually would kill a child. The last one would question the whole system you are living in and destroying your faith and believe in the security and safety of the society and the system itself. It takes a lot of courage to do so. By the way you can also see this in the high emotional level this kind of discussion tends to get. And mostly NOT about the fact that a child was killed. Because the simple idea that the police which should protect could do this, that is actually attacking them or rather it is attacking their world they are living in. This world is always an illusion and that is up to a certain degree okay. We need (I really do) the illusion of safety. But it is just an illusion. One could fall from a staircase, have a car accident, get a heart attack… Things happening all the time, events that can’t be prevented. But it is not a way one could live. We need the illusion of safety, that we really are able to control our environment, that we can plan in the future for days and years. It is a fine balance between the necessary illusion to enjoy life and be happy up to ignorance to injustice.

    The other interesting thing is: People tend to believe that the do good things to people they like and bad things only to people they don’t like or deserve this. But it also works the other way around: If you do something good for someone you also tend to start liking him and if you do something bad to people you start to find arguments why the persons deserved to be treated this way (we are never ever the bad guy in our own story). There are a lot of really interesting studies about this as well as experiments. The one a lot of people remember are the students who were put in a jail environment and divided in two groups: Prisoners and guards. Normal everyday students… and they had to interrupt the experiment because it went out of control. The “guards” were actually mistreating the “prisoners” in a real abusive way. Afterwards the student of the guard group were shocked about their own behavior.

    Mh… okay… I will stop here… but just say: You are not alone and my deepest respect to stand up and debate! 🙂

    Just as a side note:
    I know that I am simplifying but reading your blog entry I thought I should at least comment a little bit even if it is simplified 🙂



    1. Actually, Claire, you’ve raised important and subtle points to the discussion, and you’ve done it clearly and coherently. These events are not simple, and there are few truly evil people at work here. And I totally agree with what you’ve said. For example, Officer Wilson’s testimony sounds, not like a deliberate lie, but like a recalling of an adrenalin-charged situation: Anger, fear, escalation and resentment. He saw Michael Brown as a monster, not only because of his physical and emotional state, but because that’s what he would need to believe to justify his actions. I believe we step back and tell the story in a way that protects us and our vision of the world: “That couldn’t happen to ME, or MY CHILD, because…..”
      Thank you for adding your voice to this discussion. Your contribution is thought-provoking and urges us to dig deep to change our narratives.


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