Art imitates life: How this Community Court graduate is drawing a new path
When Ryan Toves thinks of art, his imagination goes to before.
Before he was sent to prison for the first time as a young adult. Before he was released and fell into a meth addiction. Before he was homeless. Before he stole a car to stay warm. Before he was caught. Before he was back in the system. Before his name was synonymous with court case numbers.
Before, it was just him and his drawings. Nothing complicated; just pencil, paper and imagination. The teachers in Maryland, where he grew up, knew he was good. Good enough to enter an art contest in the 6th grade. Good enough to win first place and good enough to garner interest at area art schools.
“I’ve always drawn,” the 41-year-old admitted. “It just kept improving and improving. Now it just comes second nature.”
But it took this long to realize art could be more, and not on purpose: after years in prison and subsequent run-ins with the court system, it was finally time for a change. A fresh perspective — a years-worth of hard work, but on the other side, fulfillment. And maybe art had a place somewhere in the margins.
Last year, Ryan enrolled in Pierce County’s Felony Drug Court, a therapeutic alternative that specializes in incorporating substance abuse and mental health treatment with evidence-based practices. The intense, 12-month program — which includes a rigorous community service component and sometimes daily check-ins with counselors — was offered after Ryan was busted for stealing the car off a car lot. The court rewards graduates with a clean slate — no strike against their permanent record and no jail time.
Around the same time, Ryan also was arrested in Auburn for trespassing at area casinos. He would visit them often, as they’re open 24-hours a day, and they’re convenient. He was charged with a misdemeanor and offered a similar solution — enroll in Auburn’s Community Court program and eschew a criminal filing.
“With my criminal history, these charges against me would have probably led to me doing jail time,” Ryan said. “That’s what led me to all of this.”
For months, Ryan’s days were packed. He’d have weekly check-ins in Auburn, and for four days a week, intensive outpatient appointments through Pierce County. With the treatment and therapy, he started to consider a few things. Like how to work on himself, including seeing a physician and a dentist regularly. Or how to get and hold down a job making windows.
He also learned that the hobby he excelled at as a child doesn’t have to be extracurricular.
“I figured with some of my art, I could put it into a way to express myself,” he said. “And spread it to the community.”
And spread he will — perhaps beginning with Community Court itself. Before graduating in mid-February, Ryan started on a new drawing. While each piece is different, much of his style is like something you’d find on a tattoo parlor wall. It’s a mixture of fanaticism and real, with strong lines and a bold voice. He hopes to one day start his own t-shirt printing business; his art emblazoned on each one. Maybe he’ll sell them at farmer’s markets or at Pike Place.
But he’s not selling the drawing he made for court. It depicts a scale — or is it a keyhole? The key before it is praised by outstretched hands bound by handcuffs, but they’re unclasped and ready to fall. The key teeth are C and C — for what, you can easily imagine. At the top reads “Community Court.” And at the bottom, perhaps an olive branch.
It’s not subtle and it doesn’t need to be. To someone like Ryan, Community Court represents what some people never get — a second chance. He didn’t squander this one. It’s an effort not lost on his court administrators, lawyers and judges. All of whom are firmly on his side.
“You were so willing and so committed,” said Judge Leah Taguba at Ryan’s graduation ceremony. “It will only be a matter of time until we’re walking into your art show.”
Only a matter of time.
“I’d never been in the mindset of where I’m at right now, of being aware that you can hold ‘artist’ as a title,” Ryan said. “It never occurred to me this could happen. Until I started these programs.”
