State of the (Teenage) Union

When Cynthia Oby, the art teacher presiding over the high school students of Mentorship STEAM Academy in downtown Baton Rouge, first conceived of the student exhibition now on display in the Shaw Center for the Arts, she found herself battling an undercurrent of fear. A mural collage project in which students would receive no direction other than “choose a subject that is meaningful to you or your community?” Perhaps the resulting art wouldn’t be figurative enough. Or otherwise not clear enough. What did young people care about these days, anyway, outside the digital realm of memes and social conquests?

“Actually, I was shocked when their finished work came out,” Oby said. “I was overwhelmed—I think I cried tears of joy. Sadness, too.”

In the stark, clean chrome of the Shaw Center lobby, lit by a wall of windows facing the old train station and the Mississippi River, the floor-to-ceiling collage demands attention. There at the top, orange sea turtles and passing pink squid entangle themselves in plastic waste, while below, arms painted in rainbow stripes suspend the words “I am human” against a wash of multi-colored handprints. The image of a child behind bars at the U.S.-Mexico Border stares out from the bottom row, almost eye-level, sharing the space with red-and-gray guns, shadowy suggestions of illness and disease, and banners bearing slogans of change, justice, and self-love. Of course there are the smiling images, too, the ones declaring peace, acceptance, and beauty, all of it merging together in a wall of singular expression: the perils and prides of youth.

“I had no idea that these things would be on their minds,” said Oby, who partnered with The Walls Project and New Schools Baton Rouge to bring the exhibition beyond the school cafeteria and into the public eye. “Human rights, civil rights, pollution, sex trafficking, the border crisis—these kids watch the news!”

Then again, she noted, a teenager isn’t necessarily a kid anymore.

“Too often we look at young people as children, but these students are at the cusp of adulthood, and the topics they tackle are very adult subjects,” she said. “It was important for me that they not be censored.”

Raised in a family of musicians, craftspeople, and dancers, Oby remembers a childhood that first drew her to a career in the arts and that same unaltered realm of expression she holds so dear.

“My grandmother, especially, was someone who didn’t like us to be idle,” she said. “She taught us sewing and macramé and cooking…so art has always been part of my life in some way.”

With such a busy upbringing, and with her master’s and bachelor’s degrees in arts education under her belt, Oby sees now more than ever the importance of creativity in the process of coming-of-age.

“Art is a way for people to express things they might not otherwise say with words,” she said. “And the amazing thing is that these pieces are actually starting conversations.”

Oby remembers a recent night in which she went to dinner at Tsunami, the upstairs restaurant situated above the Shaw Center lobby.

“I had stopped to look at the exhibition on my way in, and there were other people there reading the students’ written statements and viewing the art,” she said. “The conversations I overheard were enough to make me cry. Some people hadn’t even heard of some of the illnesses mentioned in one of the pieces, or else they struck up talk about politics or race or young-adulthood. It’s an amazing achievement.”

Now on view until December 31, the exhibition stares out into Baton Rouge as a testament to the knowledge and wisdom of young artists in Louisiana.

“I’m just really proud,” said Oby. “I’m in such awe of these students.”