The Vilbil Blog

Part I of an ongoing series

A Quiet Resonance in a Noisy World

In a world saturated with sound and spectacle, artist Miggs Burroughs has carved out a space for quiet resonance. His project, Signs of Compassion, is not merely an exhibition — it’s a poetic experiment in empathy, motion, and human connection. Through the innovative use of lenticular imagery and American Sign Language, Burroughs transforms Emily Dickinson’s verse into a visual language that speaks directly to the heart. Now, through The Vilbil.Art’s digital curation, this work finds renewed life and reach, inviting global audiences to experience compassion in motion. As Miggs noted with appreciation, “You’ve simulated it so well on the wall — the color of the wall, even though your rotunda effect is brilliant.”

The Spark: Dickinson’s House and a Son’s Suggestion

The idea didn’t arrive all at once. “It came together in different ways over a period of years,” Miggs explained. “It sort of crystallized.” His first introduction to Emily Dickinson wasn’t through books, but through a spontaneous visit. “I was visiting my son at college many years ago,” he recalled, “and I was looking for something to do while he went to class. He said, ‘Right across the street is Emily Dickinson’s house.’” That museum — where Dickinson grew up and wrote her poetry in the bedroom upstairs — left a quiet impression. Miggs began reading her poems “now and then, not seriously, or not thinking of anything in particular.” But the seed was planted.

Years later, when his local library offered him a solo show, he was invited to present “a collection of all your work.” Miggs resisted. “I really didn’t want to — it was too sporadic. I wanted something cohesive.” At the time, his technique was lenticular imagery, and he found himself drawn to the idea of telling a story — not just showing one piece that changed into another, but creating a sequence with emotional continuity. “I wanted to tell a story with lenticular,” he said. “Not just one piece that did something and then you move on to the next piece and it does something else.”

Gesture as Language: Sign and Motion

That desire for narrative led him to consider sign language. “I don’t know why sign language came to mind,” he admitted, “but I thought, there ought to be one cohesive story.” He reflected on how sign language “can convey emotion with motion,” and how that aligned with lenticular’s dual-frame structure. “Sign language is two gestures usually,” he explained. “Everything’s two motions pretty much in sign language — perfect for lenticular.” He was also struck by a phrase he’d often heard in galleries: “This art really speaks to me.” That idea stuck. “Well, my art can speak to you,” he thought, “because sign language is emotion in gestures.”

Choosing the Poem: Compassion in 30 Gestures

When it came to selecting the poem, Miggs approached it both emotionally and practically. “That’s a good question,” he said when asked why he chose Dickinson’s “If I can stop one heart from breaking.” The library’s exhibition space had kiosks with four sides, allowing room for 30 pieces. “So I kind of worked backwards,” he explained. “I read all through Emily Dickinson’s — well, I read other poems too — but I kept going back to Emily Dickinson because of the beauty of the emotion she conveyed. The economy of words and emotion.” He began counting words and phrases, and found that “If I can stop one heart from breaking” had about 35 or 36 words. But in sign language, some signs combine words — like “breaking heart” —which made it a perfect fit. “Sign language is a very economical language,” he said. “Instead of saying, ‘I think I’m going to go to the store today,’ you would just sign ‘going to store.’” That economy, paired with Dickinson’s metaphor of returning an injured robin to its nest, struck him deeply. “It was about compassion,” he said. “Helping humanity.”

Casting Humanity: Thirty Faces, Thirty Signs

At first, Miggs considered using one person to sign the entire poem. “It seems so foolish now,” he reflected. “Just one person doing the whole thing — that’s sort of boring.” Instead, he chose thirty individuals to represent each word or phrase. “Why not pick different faces, different ethnicities, gender?” he said. “I tried to do a total mix—a diverse representation of humanity.” A friend fluent in sign language interpreted the poem for him, and Miggs videotaped the performance. “He broke it down word by word and phrase by phrase.” Then, Miggs selected his subjects, showed them the video, and directed each gesture: “You’re doing the word ‘stop,’ so do this. Picture one is this, picture two is that.” Over the course of a year, he photographed each participant and assembled the lenticular sequence. “It taught me a lot,” he said. “Even writing emails — I started thinking about being economical.”

From Local Library to the United Nations

The initial exhibition at the library was met with enthusiastic response. “It was very successful,” Miggs said. “The reaction was very positive.” From there, the project traveled to a gallery in Hartford, Connecticut — near the first school for the Deaf in the United States. “The faculty and some of the deaf students came to see it,” he recalled. “They gave it a thumbs up, which I was worried about because I didn’t know if I got all the gestures right.” Their approval was deeply affirming. The project then moved to a hospital in New York, followed by another school for the Deaf. “It’s been about five or six places,” he said. Eventually, the United Nations heard about it. “I had to make it bigger,” he explained. “Each piece was always this big in the previous exhibits, but for the UN, the wall was 100 feet long.” He scaled each piece to two feet by two feet and spent a year and a half creating the expanded version. “There it was,” he said. “And you’ve simulated it so well.”

A New Chapter with The Vilbil

Now, through The Vilbil: Online Hub for Art and Artists, Signs of Compassion finds a new home — one that honors its emotional depth and expands its reach. Miggs praised the digital presentation, noting how well the rotunda effect and wall color captured the spirit of the physical installation. The Vilbil’s curation preserves the integrity of Burroughs’ vision while enhancing its accessibility. Visitors don’t just view the work — they feel it. They move with it. They are moved by it.