The most rewarding parts of being on the staff of Élan, surprisingly enough, are the ones that involve projects that connect to the literary and artistic community of Jacksonville beyond the scope of the school out of which we are based. As nice as the work we do for Douglas Anderson is, that world is a microcosm unto itself, and it has an insular feeling as all schools have to some extent. Élan, however, has made efforts to broaden its impact as an entity. We are not relegated to just the school with which we are affiliated—we gladly extend our reach into the city itself. This extension makes the work that we do feel a little bit more real. When we have the power to step outside of the school bounds and engage with the community as an independent entity, there is somewhat of an affirmation of our editorial work.

Last year, Élan and Yellow House, a local project stewarded by Hope McMath, had a wonderful collaboration. Artists and writers published in the magazine were given the opportunity to have their work displayed in a gallery installation at Yellow House. In the subsequent weeks that Yellow House hosted this beautiful gallery, they hosted an event for young writers in the community, a family event that would allow both Élan and Yellow House to touch base with our youth and actively engage such writers in a meaningful way. Although at this point I was not on the Élan staff, I did get to collaborate with staff members as the co-head of the Douglas Anderson Spoken Word Club. It was my pleasure to conduct with my fellow co-head (Ashley Chatmon, now Junior Marketing Editor of Élan) a few spoken word exercises to expose the crowd to a new form of expression. Spoken word is medium with which many young writers are unfamiliar, so it was a great honor to be the ones to introduce the form to a new crowd.

This experience meant a lot to me because it showed me how creatively a space can be used and how such a space can be used to meaningfully interact with the community around us. It taught me the power of community outreach! To stand in front of a crowd of completely new, young faces and discuss writing is a privilege that I now greatly treasure. This means a lot to me as an artist—if I had been say half my age and been told about spoken word and its endless possibilities, I’d have been doing what I do now for a lot longer. It is tremendously endearing to be that person for somebody, and I’m more than glad that Élan was the intermediary for that interaction.

– Conor Naccarato, Junior Poetry Editor

A large factor in why I wanted to join the Elan staff is because it is not just a small group of teens publishing work by and for its own host school. It eclipses the landscape of Douglas Anderson and carries its own merit as a part of a global art community. Not only that, but it is deeply involved in the local art community, with a focus on the youth.

Civil service devotees who invested in the youth of Jacksonville taught me at a young age to love this city. Moreover, they taught me that Jacksonville’s growth depended on the nurturing of the community that inhabited it. I wanted to put the message I learned about getting what you give to your community in action through my work in this organization. In November I had the opportunity to participate in a workshop at Lavilla School of the Arts. As a daughter of two teachers, I was deeply drawn to the idea of working with young people. My love for reading seriously shifted to a love for writing in middle school, and I hoped to help stir this same reaction in someone at Lavilla.

This event entailed nearly a whole school day for the members of Elan. We worked with sixth, seventh, and eighth graders who were already involved in their middle school’s creative writing program. A major focus of these workshops was to lift up these young creators and show them that their art is incredibly important. We wanted to encourage them to keep creating, as the goal of writing is not to please an audience, but to share a piece of ones unique voice and experience. The existence of Elan proves this truth. People want to know what the youth has to say, and they have for thirty years and counting. As we analyzed example writing and heard these students share some of their own, I was shocked by the depth of their insight. I reached a point where I felt I was no longer teaching, but having a genuine discussion with fellow members of the next generation of artists.

I also got a chance to share about my personal journey with creative writing, Elan, and how both have affected who I am not just as an artist, but as a person. I already knew that my personal growth walked hand in hand with my identity as a writer, but having to put it into words made me realize how rare and important the environment of Elan has proven to be.

– Ashley Chatmon, Junior Marketing Editor

It is January of 2018: a new year, but the same eager confusion wrestles within me. I am good at writing, yes. I am good at that. Is there anything else? I am good at knowing good art. At picking it out of tons of other submissions. I know the brand of Elan. I have a lot of ideas. I am ready to step foot back into that classroom and make every one of those ideas come true. I have yet to figure out how to become connected to the community, but I will figure it out. This is the mindset I had when I returned to school last winter. However, when I did step foot in that classroom, the way in which I moved through life would be changed forever.

When staff advisor, Tiffany Melanson, sat me down alongside three other staff members offering us the opportunity to curate an art gallery at our local Yellow House museum, there was something inside of me that buzzed and sang. We would spend the next few months leading up to the day preparing for what felt like an endless journey, but I do remember some of those moments so vividly.

Hunched over old editions of Elan, our backs in the shapes of a ‘U’ decisively choosing a quote from each edition. In that, reconnecting with the ghost of our editorial past. Weaving ourselves into the history of Elan, its evolution that went beyond our four minds, those four walls, or the gates of Douglas Anderson.

The numerous days when we didn’t think we would have enough art to fill a gallery. And then, it appeared as if from a stork: our baby had arrived, framed and matted, and she was beautiful.

When the day came, I remember the crunch of the gravel under my yellow heels. As I walked up the creaking stairs, my stomach felt like it had fallen out from beneath me. Through the door of this small, yellow house was my blood, sweat, and tears over the past months. This would be the peak: everything lied in this house. Walking through each room and hallway, the walls were lined with visual art and poems I’d come to know and love. The book had come to life. It was there, breathing and moving through the space like blood through the human body. We had made Elan a body: Yellow House the skeleton from which it hung, the art and writing the flesh and blood, and the history of Elan and the staff, its beating heart. It was something to be touched, felt. Something that no longer lived on book shelf.

 As people flooded into this body, I was stunned at their response. Everybody moved through the space pulsing with questions and in awe of the way the words from the pop-up readings attached themselves to the walls of every mind that would hear them.

That night, Elan earned something every artist hopes to earn: the captive attention of its audience. The ability to say why it is and what it loves. Since that day, I have been fighting for that, not only as the Marketing Editor, but as an artist myself.

– Lex Hamilton, Senior Marketing Editor