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Outsider art with a sense of belonging

Once, when I was 8 or maybe 9, I drew a butterfly. Its wings were symmetrical, more or less. Its colors were just this side of natural. Its antennae bore a clever curve. On that day I was an artist.

In the pottery studio - amid the trials of plying clay and the math of making pots - the Wayne Art Center also yields a rare form of community. (Photo by Beth Kephart)
In the pottery studio - amid the trials of plying clay and the math of making pots - the Wayne Art Center also yields a rare form of community. (Photo by Beth Kephart)Read more