Artist Speaks

From an early age, Loyola professor Matt Bodett knew he would be an artist, even skipping high school classes just to draw all day. 

Art was his escape then. It later would become his salvation when a mental disorder led to a breakdown that turned his world inside out and had him questioning his very existence.

As a side effect of a five-year medication trial, Bodett said he “would gnaw on my own tongue and it was just miserable. Or [I would] be a vegetable, just checked out, and there was a lot of joylessness.”

Eventually, thanks to persistence and a strong support system, he was able to climb out of the abyss. But for every Matt Bodett in the world, there are thousands of others who never detach themselves from the grip of a mental disorder, as a result of either a lack of access to resources or because they never find the light that will lead them out of the darkness. 

Michen Dewey

Matt Bodett teaches and makes art, but also spends time as a mental health advocate.

“Most people diagnosed end up on government support for the rest of their life because they can’t hold jobs and can’t function well in society. At least that’s what we’re told, that you might be homeless, you might be in a hospital for the rest of your life,” Bodett said. 

Even if these individuals are provided with housing, it’s not likely that they’ll continue to have residential stability unless they have access to continued treatment and services, according to the National Mental Health Association.

In the United States, one-third of the homeless population suffers from some form of untreated mental illness, according to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI). Chicago ranks higher, with 33 percent of the city’s homeless population afflicted, according to the Chicago Coalition for the Homeless.

Bodett was more fortunate than many when his disorder began to take over his life. As he started college in 2002 at Ricks College, now named Brigham Young University – Idaho, he felt the pressure many art students face when thinking about if being an artist is going to pay the bills. He decided to major in art education, thinking being paid to teach about art would be a happy medium. But after a few years of undergraduate work, all of that changed.

In 2004, at the age of 22, Bodett was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, which is not to be confused with schizophrenia. The difference being the former has symptoms of both schizophrenia and either depression or bipolar disorder, and affects 0.3 percent of the population, according to NAMI. Symptoms include hallucinations, delusions, disorganized thinking, depressed mood and manic behavior.

At this point, Bodett had been in college for a few years, and realized after the diagnosis working with kids might not be an option. 

“My view of schizophrenia before I was diagnosed, or even after I was diagnosed, was really bleak, and I did not have a lot of hope for what was going to happen. So, I figured if I’m going to be unemployable for the rest of my life, I may as well make art,” Bodett said.

Prior to his diagnosis, Bodett said he often experienced hallucinations and paranoia.

“One day I was inputting data onto a computer, and I felt like I was in this weird vortex where time is moving really slow [and the] room was starting to change its structure around me,” Bodett said. “It was a really off-putting experience, and I couldn’t figure out what was happening.”

Bodett went to the campus counseling center, where he was seen by a professional who started him on medication after diagnosing him with a bipolar disorder, a common misdiagnosis for people with schizoaffective disorder, according to NAMI. By the end of the summer, Bodett said his doctors took him off the medication, causing him to have a major breakdown and be hospitalized for treatment.

Bodett had to move back home to live with his parents and transfer to Boise State University, which turned out to be a blessing. Due to Bodett being on Medicaid at this point, he had social workers and a psychosocial rehab worker — a person who would come to his house every day and get him to go for a walk, shower and brush his teeth.

For a brief time, Bodett’s parents wanted to keep his situation private, even from family members. But they ended up taking classes through NAMI, the nation’s largest grassroots mental health organization. NAMI supports individuals and families affected by mental illness, aims to reduce stigma and advocates on a political level for the rights of individuals with mental illness, according to Kasey Franco, NAMI Chicago’s training and outreach coordinator.

Bodett’s parents went through a free 12-week program offered by NAMI called Family 2 Family, during which topics such as diagnosis, crisis, rehabilitation, relapse and medication are discussed in a support group setting.

“What we try to do is allow them to gain some empathy by understanding what a person with mental illness experiences through a variety of exercises … and of course [discuss] self-care for the caregiver coping with worry, stress and being overwhelmed,” Franco said.

For his part, Bodett initially had to work with new doctors and try different medications. “It was a series of four or five years of just miserable medications,” said Bodett, who discovered that he couldn’t create the artwork he wanted to while on the drugs.

“I couldn’t pursue the things I needed. I could hardly draw, and [that] was the thing I loved and it hurt too much to not have that in my life,” Bodett said.

Over time, he learned to cope with his symptoms without medication, relying instead on meditation through art. He said in no way is he against medication, and in many ways it can be life-saving. It just didn’t work for his specific situation. 

“It was an opportunity to use art to understand my situation, because nobody else that I knew could tell me about it. There’s no way for me to seek help for what I was going through other than my counselors. And I can’t tell them everything because I don’t have words for everything.”

Bodett discovered creating art had become a way of learning to listen to his body and recognize the stages in which his illness presents itself: first with anxiety, followed by paranoia, which turns into isolation and, finally, hallucinations. 

Today, Bodett has come full circle with his original college education plan, having taught at Boise State University, College of Western Idaho, College of Idaho and Loyola, where he teaches drawing.

Bodett also is a mental health advocate, through a series of performance art and by serving on the advisory council for the Institute for Therapy through the Arts (ITA). ITA is a community-based arts program that treats children, adults and families, according to Marni Rosen, ITA’s practice director.

The ITA advisory council is made up of colleagues and members of the community who have experiences ITA can benefit from, according to Rosen. She said the council is assembled as a way to gather information outside of the resources ITA already has to give different perspectives, new ideas, connections and enrich the program. 

Rosen said Bodett is just one of a council of people who come from different backgrounds and experiences. She said ITA appreciates Bodett’s support and “highly respects his advocacy work.”

Bodett’s performances are a set of 12 productions that relate to different aspects of mental health, such as identity, suffering, healing and stigma. One of the groups sponsoring his performances, 3Arts, is an organization that focuses on supporting women artists, artists of color, and artists with disabilities through promotion, residencies, project support and cash grants, according to 3Arts’ Director of Programs, Sara Slawnik.

Slawnik said she attended one of Bodett’s audio-visual performances, describing it as ground-breaking, and hopes more people learn from his shows.

“It was an incredible performance using accessibility services to ensure people with vision impairments are able to experience the work. Matt had a really amazing collaboration with the audio describers and [Steppenwolf] Theater to make it a really special and creative performance,” Slawnik said.

In the midst of a breakdown and medication trials that didn’t work, all could have been lost for Bodett if it weren’t for art and a lifeline of support. Through this experience, he said he has learned the most important things about getting better are being willing to talk to someone, listening to those who want to help you and seeking counseling services.

All connected

Of the more than 80,000 people homeless on the streets of Chicago, most are either mentally ill, people of color or military veterans. Worried advocates are warning that recent cuts in services put nearly all of them at further risk.

Although three of four homeless people in Chicago are Black and a third deal with some sort of mental illness, according to the Chicago Coalition for the Homeless (CCH), their needs are distinctive, given that they also are young and old, educated and uneducated, men, women and children.
Massive reductions in state spending have left tens of thousands without needed treatment and medication, while efforts to provide housing are only now coming to fruition.

Exacerbating the problem is what many mental health professionals are calling a “state of emergency” in the Illinois prison system — there are 10 times more mentally ill people in jails and prisons in the United States than in mental health hospitals, according to the Cook County Sheriff’s office.
Add it all up, and the stresses on the homeless population keep increasing, despite determined efforts to address the main reasons why so many people are displaced.

One of the biggest factors contributing to Chicago’s homelessness is a lack of mental health treatment. In 2016, Illinois’ largest provider of social services, Lutheran Social Services of Illinois, closed over 30 of its programs and laid off 750 of its staff, according the National Alliance on Mental Illness. The closure was a result of the budget impasse Illinois faced for over two years.

Also in 2016, one of the largest mental health service providers, Community Counseling Centers of Chicago, closed due to Gov. Bruce Rauner’s $82 million cut in mental health program funding, which left 10,000 patients at a loss for treatment.

However, one treatment center hasn’t closed, and that’s the Cook County Jail — one of the largest mental health facilities in the United States. Jails and prisons now serve as the largest mental health providers in 44 of the 50 states, according to a statement from Cook County Sheriff Thomas Dart.
“Through benign neglect and disastrous public policies, state and local governments have apparently decided over the past few decades that it is perfectly acceptable for our jails to serve as warehouses for the mentally ill,” Dart said in the statement.

A majority of the media attention has been focused on larger jails, but studies have shown that individuals with mental illnesses are responsible for the rise in incarceration rates in smaller counties and jails, as well, according to the statement.

These large populations of mentally ill people are causing an emergency situation for treatment, and advocates are calling it a “human rights disaster.”

In October 2016, a number of lawyers representing 12,000 mentally ill prisoners in Illinois asked Judge Michael Mihm to force the state to meet its obligation to provide necessary mental health care, according to court documents. Attorneys from three legal organizations — Equip for Equality, Uptown People’s Law Center and Dentons — said there is a backlog of more than 3,000 inmates who need to see a psychiatrist, which is causing problems for treatment.

Dr. Pablo Stewart, a psychiatric consultant and the court monitor in this case, expressed his concern about the Illinois Department of Correction’s (IDOC) “grossly insufficient and extremely poor quality of psychiatric services,” in his report for court documents related to a May 2016 settlement of a class action lawsiuit on behalf of 11,000 mentally ill inmates who had to wait to see a doctor.

“The overall quality of the psychiatric services provided to the mentally ill offenders of IDOC is often times dangerous,” Stewart wrote. “The lack and quality of psychiatric services negatively impacts all aspects of the settlement and contributes to IDOC being non-compliant in the vast majority of areas of the settlement.”

Stewart also said the IDOC needs to take immediate action and pick a new director of psychiatric services to hire new staff, fire the old staff and rework the psychiatric programs they’re using.

Michelle Kamin-Lindsay, a bond court social worker for the Cook County Department of Corrections, is responsible for conducting mental health assessments for those charged with felonies and waiting to have a bond court hearing. She addresses mental and physical health and substance abuse issues with the accused, but she said her assessments don’t have any influence on the decision in a bond hearing.

If Kamin-Lindsay does identify a need for treatment, she said part of her job is to refer the accused to the necessary programs. The referrals can also be to places such as shelters if the accused is homeless.

“I’ve heard people say, ‘I turned myself in because I didn’t know what else to do,’ or ‘I was here yesterday, I got bonded out. But I’m committing what I call crimes of survival, and here I know I at least can get the care that I need,’” Kamin-Lindsay said.

A large portion of the homeless she deals with choose to be homeless or get arrested because it’s better than most of Chicago’s shelters, citing that bed bugs have been an immense problem.

In an effort to get more homeless people off the streets and out of jail, the City Council passed the Shared Housing Ordinance in June 2016 that mandated a 4 percent surcharge be added to home share service companies such as Airbnb. As of June 2017, the rental taxes have racked up $2.8 million in funds for the homeless, $1 million more than estimated, according to the Chicago Business Journal.

Plans to use the funds through a program called Housing Homeless Families, a joint initiative with the CCH and its HomeWorks Campaign, were announced in a press release from Mayor Rahm Emanuel.

The communities seeing the highest rates of violence assoiated with homelessness include Austin, Humboldt Park, West Englewood, and Englewood.
Although Chicago residents may not see the logic of spending money to provide convicted inmates with mental illness care because it’s costing taxpayers money. The more homeless and mentally ill people convicted and sentenced, the higher the jail population, which is why Illinois is one of the top 15 states when it comes to cost per prisoner.

It would cost the state less to send someone to college than it costs to house a prisoner. Each prisoner costs about $34,000 to house annually, while the average in-state, four-year private college tuition in Illinois costs about $28,000 per year.

Around 70 percent of Illinois inmates are in prison for non-violent crimes. When non-violent offenders are jailed instead of given supervised release, they’re more likely to commit new crimes when they’re released, according to the John Howard Association of Illinois (JHA). This perpetuates the cycle of cost per prisoner, overcrowding and unstable treatment conditions for the homeless and mentally ill.