People were always looking for Michael Solomon.
Standing on the sidewalk of Shipley Street in downtown Wilmington, they’d peek into the Creative Vision Factory, scanning for the man they looked up to.
A peer mentor at the nonprofit serving people experiencing homelessness, addiction and behavioral health disorders, Solomon had walked in their shoes. People trusted him, and knew he could offer advice, a listening ear, even a kindness as simple as a Newport cigarette.
On days when Solomon was out sick, director Michael Kalmbach would watch people turn around and leave. He’d run down the block to see if they needed anything, and assure them they could get help even Solomon wasn’t there.
“He saw them as people,” Kalmbach said. “He saw the humanity and dignity in them.”
An artist and peer mentor helping people through mental illness and addiction, Solomon died at the age of 55 in his apartment on Monday, July 12. He leaves behind his mother, Addie Richardson, daughter Kelly Lolley, two brothers, aunts, uncles and cousins, and a community who remembers him for his smile, warmth and kindness.
A memorial service for Solomon will be held at 2 p.m. Saturday at House of Wright Mortuary in Wilmington.
Through his years at the Creative Vision Factory, Solomon was the lead foreman on murals and mosaic projects throughout the state, leaving reminders of his artistic talent on city blocks, businesses and the sides of schools.
“My brother from another mother put his footprint all over Delaware. A legacy that will never be forgotten,” said Wayne Marshall, Solomon’s best friend since childhood. “He’s embedded into my heart forever.”
Solomon and Marshall met as children in Wilmington, when Solomon’s family moved in next door.
In a rowhouse on North Heald Street, the two would talk to each other through the thin shared wall of their bedrooms.
They would sneak over to each others’ house, wrestling and re-enacting Bruce Lee movies. The pair even took up drawing together, comparing artwork and making posters for family and friends.
“He was a humble person,” Marshall said. “He didn’t want anything from you. He just wanted to share his love.”
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Solomon’s path to the Creative Vision Factory was a rocky one, and he shared his story often.
The death of his wife –and the homelessness, addiction and alcoholism that followed –eventually led him to the nonprofit in 2012.
Kalmbach invited him inand sat him down with a pencil and paper. Solomon started sketching, just like he had as a kid with Marshall.
Within a year, Kalmbach tapped Solomon to be the lead foreman on the Kalmar Nyckel mural in Wilmington’s Eastside – Creative Vision Factory’s first large-scale public art project.
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In the years that followed, Solomon was a foreman on a string of art installations throughout the city –a mural at Sarah Pyle Academy, where his daughter was a student. A mosaic inside Stubbs Elementary, with tiles made by students over the course of a school year. A massive quilt-like mosaic outside the Christina Cultural Arts Center, complete with tiles decorated by community members.
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If you look closely at the mosaic, you can find a tile portrait of Solomon.
“Everything he touched was artwork,” Kalmbach said.
Through the Creative Vision Factory, Solomon not only found his road to stability, but helped guide others as a recovery learning specialist as well.
His lived experience, big heart and gregarious personality made him a father figure to many and a glue within the community, Kalmbach said.
It was one thing to believe in second chances, Solomon would say. But the Creative Vision Factory was in the business of believing in third, fourth, fifth –unending chances.
“Michael knew to look past all that surface behavior, and know that there’s a tired, hungry and lonely person underneath all that,” Kalmbach said. “And underneath all that, they’re people and they’re somebody’s baby.”
When he wasn’t making art, Solomon could be found tending to his garden, growing fresh tomatoes and cucumbers from scratch.
He ran marathons, played instruments, and could make any hat “look like the coolest hat on the planet,” Kalmbach said.
He once jumped out of an airplane, his family waiting on the ground as he parachuted down.
“He was smiling the whole time,” Marshall said.
The Tuesday after Solomon’s death, Kalmbach started his morning buying sneakers for a member in need. Then he walked to the corner store and bought a box of Newports, in case anybody was in need of a cigarette.
Natalia Alamdari covers equity and underserved communities for The News Journal. Got a story idea? Reach her at nalamdari@delawareonline.com or 302-324-2312.
