The death of the print arts and culture review

This story first appeared in Crain's Detroit Business.

When I started at The Detroit News in 2002, the paper employed a dedicated restaurant critic, a dance critic, two film critics, a couple of music critics, a theater, jazz and classical music critic, a fine/visual arts critic, a TV critic, a book reviewer, and an abundance of freelance arts critics and generalists, at least.

By the time I became arts and entertainment editor the next year, three critics retired and a music critic/musician went on tour and never came back. However, because we understood that readers looked to these paragons of criticism for unbiased, enthusiastic (or skeptical) and educated observations of a show, we found capable freelancers to carry on and trusted heavily on wire copy by capable critics at other newspapers.

Sometimes readers attended shows based on a reviewer’s recommendation; sometimes they went in spite of it, because reviews — good criticism written by experts in music, theater, visual arts, dance, film or opera — don’t just sell tickets. They attract populations of people to communities, jump-start conversations, enlighten and draw attention to cultural shifts.

If the newspaper didn’t run a review, my phone rang with readers demanding our critics’ views. If I directed them to a review online, older readers took offense; and rightly so, they did not have the internet or sometimes a computer, and as far as they could tell no one seemed to care.

What happened at The News is not unlike what has happened at the Detroit Free PressChicago Sun-TimesLos Angeles Times and at other major newspapers across the U.S., most of which have been plagued over the past 15 years by the rise of the internet and decline of print advertising — and, therefore, a business model that doesn’t work. The result has been a re-evaluating of priorities that for the most part kicked arts coverage to the curb. Even wire companies began laying off arts and entertainment critics.

Leah Smith, marketing and development director for Detroit Repertory Theatre, echoed my thoughts when she said, “It’s the way the world is going in general. … We’re being told art is not as important for quality of life as other things are.”

By the time I left The News in 2014, event listings ruled over actual event coverage. I had only film, pop music and visual arts critics left on staff. We freelanced TV and restaurant reviews, periodically persuaded someone to cover classical music and opera, and relied on wire and our ever-dwindling features staff to preview shows instead. At the same time, diversity of those previews steadily shrank, decreasing coverage of little-known performances and exhibits in favor of stories about trendy events.

Is there anything else you need to know about Harry Potter? We can all hop on the train to Stratford, Ontario, for Shakespeare, but how many know about the summer Shakespeare Royal Oak performances or Detroit Repertory Theatre’s new playwright productions?

Vince Paul, president and artistic director of the Music Hall Center for the Performing Arts, agreed. “The bigger picture is that we’re leaving our body politic in the dark as to the cultural options available to them, or removing that as critical thought or discussion for the performing arts that are on display,” he said.

In the early 1990s, when I was publishing an arts and entertainment magazine called Surreal, then Detroit Mayor Dennis Archer invited me and several other Detroit-area arts writers, photographers, musicians, painters, theater owners, etc., to his office to discuss the needs of the city. He recognized, as does anyone wanting to recruit highly sought-after white-collar workers or retain recent college graduates, that a great city needs a strong cultural foothold. So Archer looked for ways through the arts to boost Detroit’s flagging downtown, because, “You want to share the talent and beauty of the art with everybody,” as David DiChiera, founder and artistic director of Michigan Opera Theatre, has said. DiChiera effectively compared the dearth of reviews to “the proverbial hiding your light under a bushel.”

Reviews bring cultural institutions to light for generations of readers; and losing them doesn’t just save space in the newspaper, it does a disservice to older readers and the community at large, especially in this age of social sharing.

Imagine now, with Snapchat, Instagram, Facebook, Periscope, Twitter, et al., the attention Detroit-created, curated, produced and staged performances and exhibits could garner nationwide. Here, we have the only Arab American museum in the country, but no one (that I know of) is reviewing its exhibits. There are at least 80 theaters in Michigan, but only a smattering of reviews can be found, most on EncoreMichigan.com.

Nevertheless, it’s not just about letting people know the event is happening, it’s about creating conversation.

“Competent critics provide a constant commentary on the arts scene,” said Lawrence Johnson, theater, jazz and classical music critic for The Detroit News for 20 years before he retired in 2006. During his 50-year career, Johnson also has written for the Los Angeles TimesNew York TimesOpera News, various music magazines, and “Classical Voice North America.” He and his wife, Nancy Malitz, founding music critic for USA Today and former cultural columnist at The News and freelancer for dozens of well-known publications, now run a classical music and theater review website, “Chicago on the Aisle.”

“I have always been convinced the number of people who read reviews far exceeds the number of people who see the given event,” Johnson said. “I write a review to try to be evocative of the experience as I witness it for anyone who might be interested in the topic.”

I’m looking forward to the Fisher Theatre’s production of “A Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time,” based on the Mark Haddon novel with the same name. The story is difficult to explain: It’s about an awkward boy — in the novel he had autism — who is trying to solve a mystery. However, it’s much more than that. A review by an experienced critic could clarify things for would-be patrons, book lovers, and those just wanting to know how theater and the world have changed over the years.

That’s the thing about true critics, not bloggers (of which I am one), they are skilled at drawing on historical knowledge of performances/exhibits to draw comparisons to new works. Perhaps a critic would contrast the treatment of the innocent Lennie in Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men to Haddon’s Christopher or to someone in modern day politics. Regardless, I’d like to know.

While I could likely search online for a review next spring when the play is staged, I’d prefer the conversation one gets from the oft-opposing viewpoints of critics at different publications, as when The News‘ (fill in critic’s name here) skewers a show and the Free Press’ (fill in critic’s name here) praises it, or vice versa. In the midst of this conversation, these critics are educating readers.

I think Lawrence Johnson’s point is solid reasoning for more arts reviews. He said, “Good criticism sheds light and stimulates readers to think.” Considering all the bad news happening in our town, our country, and our world, we could use a little more thinking.

From shutter to brush: Jay Asquini keeps creating despite crushing accident

Despite a tumor blinding his left eye when he was a toddler, Jay Asquini has never been short of vision. What he didn’t picture, though, was an accident that would thrust him from a lucrative career as a charismatic photographer into early retirement as a painter.

Jay Asquini with camera in 1998

Jay Asquini in 1998

Observing one grandfather return home to cheerfully discuss his self-owned business and another grandfather return in a foul mood after an aggravating day in the corporate world, Asquini determined at a young age he would be self-employed. His initial plan was to turn his love of literature into a career as a writer. In his mind’s eye, he would be the house husband who sent his wife off to work and kids off to school before he retired to his IBM Selectric typewriter and banged out the great American novel. When Asquini’s parents gave him a camera on the Christmas of his 19th year, he embarked on a duo career as writer and photographer.

“The mechanics (of photography) made sense to me,” says now 60-year-old Asquini. While most photographers have to adjust their vision when looking through a camera’s viewfinder, being blind in one eye makes looking through a viewfinder no different than the way he already sees the world. “A lack of binocular vision has never bothered me.”

While Asquini started making money with the camera right away, he found creative writing and freelance copy writing for ad agencies difficult pursuits. The rewrites seemed endless and billing confusing.

“I found photography an easier environment.” Projects had simpler start and end dates, he says. “There’s a lot more responsibility as a writer, especially as a creative writer because you’re responsible for everything. A photographer has the subject. There’s a form of reality no matter how much creativity goes into it because of the subject.”

Second shot

After about three years of defining himself as a writer and photographer, Asquini clarified his career. Instead of sticking with the dream he had, he created the dream he was meant to bring to life. He made writing a hobby and put the bulk of his energy into photography.

“Photography was part of my personality. It was part of who I was. There was this great reward. I worked from home, with my wife running the office and the studio in the back of the house. The kids grew up in that house. All the things I got hired to see and all the people I got to be with, I loved it. It was infectious, too. I would work with other photographers and we would say we had the best job in the world.”

One day Asquini would find himself riding in a motorcade with the visiting president of Armenia and the next photographing the Detroit Red Wings or the manufacturing processes at a plant. He says he found an easy home in the industrial photography world.

“I didn’t press engineers into doing something creative and outside of their comfort zones. Instead, I could find the beauty in what they were doing and how they were doing it.”

Unlike working in an office, Asquini found he could approach photography with his own personality. “I was never anything but myself, so I never made sense in the ad world. But I did belong with the engineers, the people who built and designed things and turned them into products. That all made sense to me.”

He wasn’t just skilled at industrial photography, he relished its many challenges. There were no film or lights made for the poorly lit and unpredictable manufacturing facilities.

“It’s hot and loud, it can be dangerous, and your images can end up grainy. What you think is a table you can lean on might actually be molten aluminum. There are a lot of crazy things going on that you don’t have control over. But if you can learn how to control those things, you can be a great photographer and land on your feet in any situation. If you can learn how to be creative in that scene too, you can be even f****** better.”

Yard work almost killed me

On August 26, 2001, Jay Asquini decided it was time to remove a tree from his yard, but he wanted to do it in a way that wouldn’t damage the pine tree below. After considering carefully, almost obsessively, where he should place the ladder, he secured it, climbed up, and began trimming back the over-hanging branches. Then the tree broke and sprang free. Asquini grasped the ladder. But the blow knocked him from the ladder and on to the back of his neck, pulverizing five of his vertebrae.

Thankfully, Teck Soo, MD, a spine and brain surgeon Asquini calls “my beautiful human being,” put him back together with titanium rods and screws. He says, “I was one millimeter away from being a quadriplegic.”

For Asquini, the worst day in recent American history was also one of the best days of his life. On Sept. 11, 2001, he learned to walk again.

“With the aid of a walker, I took three steps to the TV and watched the towers collapse,” he says without joy.

A few days later, Asquini was home and looking forward to resuming his work. “Doctors couldn’t see why I couldn’t just pick up where I left off.” But cameras can be heavy and Asquini couldn’t seem to hold one easily. Neither could he maneuver the camera or his head so he could see through it properly. The rare times he could operate the camera the way he wanted, he found he could not simultaneously hold a conversation with his subject.

A recent sketch of Jay Asquini by Rachel Holland

A recent sketch of Jay Asquini by Rachel Holland from Asquini’s collection.

“The banter is what helps to dissolve the camera and makes the camera disappear so the subject doesn’t feel like a hunted beast of prey,” Asquini explains. “You feel collaborative with the photographer. But I could only do one or the other, look through the camera or engage.”

Oddly, Asquini understood how to talk and shoot photos, market himself and do everything necessary to run his business; yet he couldn’t actually perform the steps, and no one could explain why.

A year later, Asquini realized his skills as a photographer weren’t coming back. “It was something I had to give up.”

Putting down the camera, picking up a brush

Asquini says he slipped into a deep depression and found himself “in a dysfunctional space.”

“I couldn’t even manage to say the right things to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. As a guy who was never at a loss for words, I found myself becoming one of those frustrated, irate people because I couldn’t figure out why they didn’t understand what I needed, because I didn’t have the capacity to explain myself properly.”

A friend insisted they start painting and Asquini agreed. To his surprise, he fell in love with the process. Years of photography work and watching his mother, a painter, gave Asquini a solid understanding of what light and composition do.

“It was liberating from a creative side. I could paint whatever I wanted and wasn’t bound to my subject. I could use any color I wanted and any lighting I wanted without having to actually use lighting. Now all I had to do was visualize what I want. No one would go about painting the way I do without being a photographer first. Every dimension is used.”

Asquini says he looks for dynamic compositions within a scene rather than the whole scene and makes small four-by-six or five-by-seven sketches that he stores the way he would old negatives.

“As a consequence, I have hundreds of little gems. I don’t need them to be large because I spent years looking through contact sheets. These are the frameworks for things I paint out larger.”

Of two minds

Except he wasn’t able to sell his work. Though he knew from his experience as a photographer what needed to be done to market himself, he collapsed each time he tried to implement those strategies.

“I couldn’t complete things,” he says. “This is where I realized I was dealing with a different brain.”

Three years after the accident, he finally got an appointment with a psychiatrist. After testing, the doctor helped Asquini understand that in addition to damaging his spine in the fall, he also suffered a closed-head injury to his brain.

Now he has what he calls a binocular mind. “I remember what my old mind was capable of performing and now I have this ‘de- tuned’ version that just cannot do the things the old one could do.” He says being able to remember his old brain while dealing with his new brain can be simultaneously irritating and enlightening. “Now I say I have two different perspectives on life.”

He also has learned to redefine his identity. When asked, Asquini can now say he’s a painter without prefacing it with “I was a working photographer for 20 years.” If people press about his new calling, he says he adds “hobbyist”.

“I don’t make an effort to sell my work. I remember how much effort it takes from my old brain, and I don’t have that. Painting is the joy.”

Because he enjoys engaging with other artists and subjects, Asquini began attending a figure drawing class at Eastern Michigan University in 2004. “I love people and find figure drawing subjects.” Every month, he heads to the Carr Center in Detroit to interact with other artists in an artists’ group he co-founded.

“It’s not perfect. I have physical limitations. I wish I could stand up in the park and paint like others do. But if you’re an accountant, you have real limits…

“When you’re a photographer, you witness the world. When you’re a writer, you celebrate the world. When you’re a painter, you f****** see the world! This is what painting did for me.”

© Copyright Leslie Green and Wildemere Publishing LLC. 2016. All rights reserved.



IDENTITY: a series…

Scott Norman wearing a uniform and holding a gun in "The Wars of Other Men" by Mike Zawacki.Story 1: Two artists uncomfortable with the “actor” label share their views on identity because they are both so much more.

"Small Great Things" by Jodi Picoult book cover "The Underground Railroad" by Colson Whitehead book cover

Story 2:
Authors Colson Whitehead, who’s black, and Jodi Picoult, who is white, address notions of identity in “The Underground Railroad” and “Small Great Things,” painfully convincing novels focused on race and racial injustice.

This story: See more of Jay Asquini’s paintings on his Tumblr page.

Story 4: Life, not production, makes an artist.

Coming soon: The advent of digital photography forces a difficult decision.


How do you keep moving forward after a setback? Share your views. Comment below

From page to screen: TV's The New Yorker amuses, inspires

Last month, Amazon Prime launched the new original series “The New Yorker Presents.” A fan of the magazine and its podcasts, I added the show to my watchlist and let it sit, assuming it really wouldn’t satisfy when I sought good television programming.

I’m not sure what I expected from the 91-year-old publication, known for its unrivaled literary, arts and political coverage, but it wasn’t this.


This digital cultural magazine, in its first season, brings The New Yorker to life in a way that will inspire writers and artists and inform the masses. Each episode is short, not even 30 minutes, and therefore doesn’t explore any subject in great depth. The first takes on “The Truman Show” delusion, where people believe their lives are reality shows; the FBI’s foreknowledge of 9/11; and a short film with actor Paul Giamatti as caffeine-addicted author Honore de Balzac:

The second episode presents an honest, unbiased documentary on child bull riders, writer Edwidge Danticat looks at racial violence using the art of Jacob Lawrence as a backdrop, there is a poem and much more.

“The New Yorker Presents” is time well spent.

Moving People: A Novel Journey Through Books

Ron Bernas

By Ron Bernas

Artists are always seeking inspiration. To seek is to find, and they find it in the way the sun reflects off a lake at dawn, the sounds of nature or someone else’s turn of phrase. But immediate inspirations are one thing; and to make something meaningful out of them, the true artist builds them on a basis of a long-term philosophy.

As a storyteller, I find inspiration in things that make me look in a new way at something that’s familiar or mundane. If it makes me laugh, too, that’s even better. As a playwright, I am inspired by many writers: Horton Foote for the way he tells meaningful stories that are quiet and powerful, and Moss Hart for the heart around which he builds all his work and George S. Kaufman, for his way with a one-liner. Kaufman and Hart collaborated on, among others, “You Can’t Take it with You,” which won the Pulitzer Prize and has always been one of my favorites. It makes you laugh, it makes you think and it makes you want to be a better person. We should all aspire to reach that bar.

I talked to three artists about the books that have guided them on their creative journeys. Here’s what they had to say:

James PujdowskiArtist, teacher James Pujdowski

“Much like everyone who lives through their 20s, I felt I was going in the right path in education and was in the middle of earningPublished by Important Books an advertising design degree. I was a freelance graphic artist picking up jobs and I thought this was my only life. Then I took a required painting course at Wayne State University and an Instructor suggested ‘The Art Spirit,’ by Robert Henri.

This book mirrored every thought I had about art and life. I could not get enough of this guy and on each page it validated exactly what I felt was right with who I was and how I was going to let art be what my life would be about.
“I re-read the book several times until it became my mantra. When I reflect on the words in the book, I imagine I’m in one of Robert Henri’s lectures or, while I’m working on a painting, he is right over my shoulder guiding my hand. I’ve given copies of the book to choice students in hopes they pick up the torch and find the same aesthetic direction and peace it gave me.

“To paraphrase Mark Twain, ‘There are two dates in your life that are important. First, it’s your Birthday. Second, it’s when you realize why you are here!’”

James Pujdowski is a longstanding member of the Michigan art scene. His expressive landscapes and still lifes are drawn from direct observation from his travels around the country and benefit from his imagination and love of vibrant color. His work can be found in public and private collections across the country, and he is in much demand as an art show jurist. James is also a teacher at a private school in Grosse Pointe Woods and at art centers, colleges and universities.

Oneita Jackson

Oneita Jackson photo by Cybelle Codish

Photo by Cybelle Codish

“I’d been taking notes in the back of a book called ‘Foyle’s Philavery:  A Treasury of Unusual Words’ and a woman asked, ‘What do you do?’ We were at a funeral repast talking about the homily, one of the most powerful sermons I’ve heard in any church, any service. ‘I do words,’ I told her. And there is no one way I do them—I read dictionaries, stylebooks, and English books.

“Writers are the custodians of memory.”
~ William Zinsser, “On Writing Well”

But as a satirist, I refer to five books constantly to ensure I’m doing my best, most honest work when making observations of humanity: ‘Warriner’s English Grammar and Composition,’ for mechanics; ‘Beating Around the Bush,’ by Art Buchwald, to make sure I’m on point satirically; ‘On Writing Well,’ by William Zinsser, for the vision that informs my body of work; ‘A Handbook to Literature,’ by C. Hugh Holman, for technical terms, and ‘The Best of Simple,’ Langston Hughes, for my common-man voice.

Oneita Jackson is a Detroit cab driver who studied English at Howard University. She was a Detroit Free Press copy editor for 11 years and wrote a column called “O Street,” which received a Free Press Columnist of the Year award in 2008. Her latest writing project is the “Nappy-Headed Negro Syndrome,” observations of a cab driver in awkward situations. Find her on Facebook at Oneita Cab Driver.

Chris Emmerson

Chris Emmerson “I love German author Herman Hesse. He has so many great books. ‘Narcissus and Goldmund’ is great, and ‘Steppenwolf’ is, too, but my favorite is ‘Siddhartha.’ It’s all about the spiritual growth of a man and I Siddhartha by Herman Hessefind that so inspiring and motivating. He really understands the multiple nature of good and bad in each of us. He explores the many different aspects of people and uses really cool imagery.

I read this at the same time I was getting into yoga, right about the time I read Gandhi’s book and the works of Rudolph Steiner. Still, ‘Siddhartha’ really gets right to the heart of the themes of personal enlightenment that interest me so much. Stories like this are important to me because I view life as a spiritual journey and I’m always intrigued by how people can have different beliefs and ideologies and achieve growth and enlightenment from different paths.

“Wisdom cannot be imparted. Wisdom that a wise man attempts to impart always sounds like foolishness to someone else … Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. One can find it, live it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it.”
~ Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

Chris Emmerson has been a fixture on Detroit’s rock scene for more than 10 years, playing at many of the city’s most popular venues. He started playing guitar at the age of four and started his first band in the fourth grade. Gigs with his father led him to a career as a professional musician. He released his first album, “It’s So Easy from Far Away,” in 2014, playing guitar, bass, drums, keyboard and percussion in addition to laying down all the vocal tracks. His second album, which tends toward the pop rock genre, is due out this year. In addition, he’s also a popular yoga instructor. His work can be found at chrisemmerson.com.

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Ron Bernas, who compiled this post, is a freelance writer, editor and former reporter. He is the author of the screwball comedy-inspired play “A Little Murder Never Hurt Anybody,” which has been performed around the world. He reads nonstop and is the author of Ron’s Bookshelf, a blog about books and reading at ronsbookshelf.wordpress.com.

©Ron Bernas and Wildemere Publishing LLC [2015]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is to Ron Bernas and Wildemere Publishing LLC with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Moving People: An Exploration of Inspiration and Human Nature

Image of guest blogger Maureen Batty

By Maureen Batty

Being deeply moved by the written word always seems like a bit of a hijacking.

I am comfortable, usually in my own home, when someone suddenly takes over my heart, my breath and that feeling in the pit of my stomach from an entirely different location — where the author first put pen to paper or fingertip to keyboard.

It happened months ago when I read John Green’s “The Fault in Our Stars” and cried so hard I thought I was pregnant.

It happened again just a week or two back when I was editing a gorgeous piece of writing that ended suddenly, perfectly and unassumingly with a man changing his mind. Doesn’t sound like a big deal, right? But the writer had so completely sucked me into this man’s firm mindset that when he surrendered it for the love of his child, I felt the importance of his change of mind.

“Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.”
― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

Sometimes the effect isn’t heart-stoppingly dramatic but memorable. It happened when I was reading “Unbroken,” that incredible story of an Olympic athlete whose plane went down during World War II. Author Laura Hillenbrand just dropped the slightest mention of Edith Frank tending her infant daughter Anne Frank and I was absolutely enchanted by her way of providing context.

But it doesn’t have to be the written word; anything that puts a finger on the pulse of human nature — movies, music, photography, architecture, theater and even a television commercial or a comic strip — can take you completely away from your present moment, whether it lifts you up or weighs on your heart.

From time to time in this space, I hope to explore what moves people. To kick things off, I asked three very different people this question: When you think of how human nature and the arts collide, what inspires you?

Here is what they had to say:

Eno Laget

Strawberry by street artist Eno Legat

“I don’t think of collision, ever. It’s more like human nature and arts mixed is a colloid (I am suspended in a continuous phase of another component). Here, I am fog, or I am paint — body and spirit mixed by a source I cannot see, yet I know is real. I have been made and set into motion for a purpose I do not understand because my mind is too puny. Yet, I choose to believe in the driving force that created me for some duration that is beyond my control.

“I am foam rubber. No matter how often depressed, I return to my original form to be in service of my purpose. The tension of this continuous suspension is inspiring. Maintaining balance is a challenge I embrace. To be neither swallowed, nor spit out by the dominant culture until I wear out is the goal.”

Eno Laget is a Detroit-area street artist. He is featured in “Canvas Detroit” by authors Julie Pincus, Nichole Christian and 25 other inspired photographers and contributors. Eno Laget exhibited the above mixed-media image of a woman called Strawberry, who reportedly was killed for knowing too much, at Red Bull Creation in summer 2014.

Michelle Jimenez

Meghan-Trainor-All-About--Bass image

“These days, it’s Meghan Trainor’s song “All About That Bass.” This catchy, fun tune is an instant pick-me-up and an unexpected source of inspiration for a serious soul like me. Though the song encourages a positive body image for all, its message of self-acceptance helps ward off my never-ending and very human drive toward general perfection that goes beyond just trying to attain that perfect number on the scale. To name a few items on my list of elusive perfection: Perfectly clean house, perfectly fed, groomed and happy child and perfectly energetic and engaging wife.

“As a new and first-time mom, I’m still adjusting to the work-life balance, and I welcome any message out there that, after a day at the office, makes it a little easier not to cringe at our atrocious kitchen floor or beat myself up that my toddler’s sharp nails again didn’t get clipped before bed or that I won’t be able to keep my eyes open long enough to watch my husband’s and my favorite TV show. It’s all about that (self) acceptance.”

Michelle Jimenez is a wife, mom and professional communicator who lives in San Antonio, Texas. She most enjoys spending time with family and friends, romping around with her toddler and engaging in creative expression.

Tara Michener

Image of Tara Michener

“So many opportunities to grow, learn, change and develop exist in simple works of art. As humans we see ourselves in paintings, we express ourselves in crafting, we find ourselves in our ability to write a story.

“I specifically think of my own journaling and thought sketching and how my therapeutic creative writing details my own personal experiences from a fiction perspective.

“While human nature and the arts collide in many ways, I am most inspired when I speak to someone who shares their thoughts with me about how my children’s fiction has allowed their child to have a deeper perspective on bullying, diversity and/or self-esteem.”

A counselor, writer, consultant and more, Tara Michener of Novi, Mich., is the founder of “Professionals Against Bullying,” which supports those who have been affected by relational, social and physical aggression. She adores her husband and son, and enjoys running.

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Maureen Batty is a Detroit-based writer, editor and lover of how human nature and the arts collide.

Learn more about Maureen at www.liveloveedit.com.

Inspired to share your own thoughts on the topic human nature and arts?

We’d love to hear about it in the comments below.

©Maureen Batty and Wildemere Publishing LLC [2014]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is to Maureen Batty and Wildemere Publishing LLC with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. 2014