How Art Transforms Brokenness Into Beauty | Lily Yeh | TED

I remember when I was young,

I liked to make pictures of beautiful places,

but I didn't know that would become the passion of my life.

I was born in China and grew up in Taiwan.

When I was seven,

my family had to flee to the island

because of the communist takeover of the mainland.

And at 15,

I began studying Chinese landscape painting.

And through the studies,

I came in contact with a very special place,

which is often described as the “Dustless World”

in Chinese culture.

It is a place

of this world,

yet it reveals the mystery of the other.

It is a place of pristine beauty and poignant serenity,

without the mental pollution of self-centeredness

and greed and ignorance.

And eventually it's a place I call home.

Upon graduation from college,

like many people of my generation in Taiwan,

we left because of tight political control then

and also the desire for further education abroad.

And so I came to the States to study art

and stayed ever after in the country.

Then when I received my MFA,

I had a busy and flourishing life for some time.

I had a family

and I became a full professor

and I exhibited in fine galleries.

And yet I felt something essential missing in my life.

Then I met Arthur Hall,

a preeminent dancer and choreographer,

and he invited me to do a project

in an abandoned lot next to his headquarters

in an inner city neighborhood in North Philadelphia.

And to tell you the truth,

at the beginning I was so afraid.

And actually, I wanted to run away.

What could a little Chinese woman do in this neighborhood,

basically overtaken by poverty, crime and violence?

Then the little voice in me spoke,

and it says, "You must rise to the occasion.

Otherwise the light in you will die."

And so I began small.

At the beginning, only children came to help.

They were attracted by the spades and brooms

and shovels that we set up.

And slowly,

with donated materials, found materials,

we began to make murals and sculptures and mosaics.

And children’s laughter and joy were infectious

and gradually drew in adults.

And see, that's how we set the baits to lure people in.

(Laughter)

And then everybody became happy.

Over the years,

we created a series of parks and gardens ...

(Applause)

... tree farm,

a performing arts program,

festivals

and rites of passage program,

and many more.

And eventually,

the little summer art project

evolved into a nonprofit arts organization

called the Village of Arts and Humanities.

What was surprising to me

was that what the world found broken in this community

actually is a treasure land full of resources,

energy, talent and creativity.

And through working with people,

I found

what was missing in my life.

I knew I had to leave my tenured professorship

in order to step into my life,

and the wisdom, compassion

and endurance of the community

guided me home to the Dustless World,

that wonderful place of enchantment

and profound beauty.

I stayed at the Village for 18 years,

then I felt the calling to bring what I have learned at the Village

to places in need in the world.

I established another organization called the Barefoot Artists.

Then in 2004,

I met Jean Bosco Musana from Rwanda

in a conference in Barcelona.

We began working together right away until now.

Upon my first visit,

he took me to see the genocide memorial

near his city, Gisenyi.

And the site looked so forsaken and forlorn,

I wanted to help.

Then one thing led to the other.

First was the design.

And then the children.

And then adults came.

And then a construction team.

And then a series of mosaic workshops.

And then the completion of the genocide memorial.

(Applause)

And here I want to express my deep gratitude

to the survivors and their families

who participated in the project despite their deep grief.

And also to the China Road and Bridge Construction Company

and its team,

whose help was essential

in converting my design into reality.

Then, in early spring of 2007,

we dedicated the memorial

to the people and the government for its safekeeping.

Then April 7,

the day of national mourning,

and thousands of people walk in silence

for miles to the site.

Then they would line up

and descend into the bone chamber.

And that's where they mourn their dead.

A survivor told me

that our loved ones can come home now in dignity.

When we see beauty,

we see hope.

I wanted to work with the migrant community

in the countryside in China for some time,

and in 2006, I was lucky enough to join Dandelion Middle School.

Its purpose is to serve the most vulnerable,

the children of migrant workers.

As you can see,

the school was converted from an abandoned factory,

and it looks basic and bare and rustic.

But then it's a perfect place for me

and the school community

to turn dilapidation

into color and abundance.

(Applause)

And through the process, we had such fun,

and we have learned so much.

Fifteen years later, facing demolition,

the school relocated

and the new place is grand and modern,

but cold and harsh.

And so students felt estranged and unhappy.

So I stepped in and created the design

that is reminiscent of the gentleness in the old school.

And together again, with the students and teachers,

we brought color, joy and intimacy to this new setting.

During COVID, I created this design,

the rainbow and the tree of life for Dandelion.

Just last fall, in a period of 59 days,

and with the participation of 913 teachers, students and volunteers

with our unskilled hands

but with utter dedication,

together we made something beyond our own expectation

and something magical.

And then the process,

when the day is finished

and we become drunk with the exaltation and happiness

and the process --

(Applause)

and the process unified us into one.

What a deep experience.

And over the years,

I have come to see myself as a barefoot artist.

My method is very simple.

I have a bag full of art supplies,

and I would go to places in need

and work with whoever come and join me.

Together we play and create.

And over the different projects and experiences,

I come to realize

that broken places are my canvases

and people's stories the palette

and the people's imagination and talent and the tools

for new inventions.

Together we envision and transform.

And I also come to realize a fundamental truth:

people need beauty.

Not the superficial beauty,

but the profound and transformative beauty.

It is like fire in a dark winter's night.

It is the beauty that our soul yearns for.

Our world is so broken today

with the violent wars ...

with massive extinction of species

and profound, profound human suffering.

And we need this vision and energy to beauty now more than ever.

May we rise to embrace the broken.

When [we] act together, I know we will have the power to transform,

far and wide, the brokenness into beauty.

Thank you.

(Cheers and applause)