In her article for the Spring 1995 Bryn Mawr Bulletin, Jane Taylor McDonnell, ’61, wrote about her experiences as the mother of an autistic son: “Because I had a child like Paul, I was forced to confront my deepest prejudices. Beneath all differences which might define human beings, there was one which for me was unquestioned, and that was intellect. Living all my life in an academic environment, I had never been forced to consider that intellect is not the same as merit, it is not the same as virtue. It is a gift of nature, as surely as any other. We don’t ask for our intelligence and we certainly can never do anything to deserve it.  It is a given, a gift.”

Adam’s Art Is a Gift of Nature

Those words echo in my head when I think about my Bryn Mawr experience – entering young adulthood in the company of many intellectually gifted women – and my subsequent experiences raising a child with an intellectual disability. (Incidentally, I am aware of two classmates who also have children on the autism spectrum, and, statistically, there are likely to be more.)

Once we understood that our son Adam was autistic (and not at the mildly affected end of the autism spectrum), we focused on finding schools and other activities that would give him the greatest chance of achieving independence and, most importantly, make him happy. This is particularly challenging when your autistic child has very limited language. We can ascertain his basic likes and dislikes, but any “big picture” thoughts he might have about his condition or his future remain mysterious. So, we just concentrate on giving him as much enjoyment as we can, while keeping him safe and healthy and ourselves safe and sane. It’s not as easy as it might sound.

Adam’s “Rich Inner World”

It has been clear for many years that Adam has a rich inner world that revolves around Disney movies, other animated videos, and, yes, Barney and friends. Through memorization of the scripts from these videos (which, unlike normal speech, never vary), Adam has learned most of his language. Even when the actual words are a bit garbled, we can always figure out the source of his echoed language, because he positively nails the accents and inflection. Videos have also helped him to learn about basic emotions, which they illustrate using exaggerated facial expressions and tones of voice. In fact, within the immediate family, Disney phrases form a sort of running inside joke.  

Adam Has a Strong Connection to Every Character He Draws

Adam began drawing characters from his favorite videos at a young age, and even when the drawing was still quite crude, he had a knack for capturing the essence of each character. The drawings that I provided to Rikki Lights, our digital griot, are from a series of over a hundred drawings he produced in the fall of 2017; he cut out each figure and then took a photograph of it with his iPad. I sense that he feels a strong connection to every character he draws. Of course, only he truly knows what each character means to him or exactly what he is trying to capture in his drawing. I suppose that the same could be said about the relationship of any artist to his or her work of art. We can only guess about the artist’s intention and meaning from what we perceive as observers of that art.

A Happy Young Adult

At age 25, Adam lives in a group home with four autistic peers and spends most of his weekdays in volunteer jobs in the community. He looks forward to his frequent weekends at home with his family, where he gets access to favorite meals and activities. He marches to his own drummer, and we measure his successes by a unique yardstick. He is, overall, a happy young adult. 

 

-Helen Golding, (BMC ’74)

All character images © 2019 Adam Schwarz.  Artistic settings for characters, by Verneda (Rikki) Lights, E-graphX Omnimedia