Object-ives #2: Art That Toasts to a Friendship Beyond Most

Art is not my forte, but one drawing means the world to me

Sep 12, 2025

white man with glasses holding marker drawing of himself — Josh Friedberg with the artwork his friend Robert gifted him, entitled “Blue Boy Feels Joy”

I’m not visually astute. I own no designer clothes, my apartment is a cluttered mess, I can’t critique a film’s cinematography, and written poetry confounds me as I try to figure out its meaning(s).

But there’s one piece of visual art that means the world to me, and it was a gift from my friend, Robert.

Robert and I met in 2011, during an exceptionally rough depressive period for me, when we were volunteering at a camp on the East Coast of the U.S. for kids with autism and/or Tourette’s syndrome. I’m autistic, Robert has Tourette’s, he manned the archery station at camp, and I admittedly had trouble finding a place for what to do there.

But he remembers how I lit up when I performed my song about my autism, “Some People Say,” and all these kids related to my lyrics. I’ve been fortunate to have incredible moments of connection in my life, and that was one of the greatest. Robert saw potential in me as a leader. I’d already been a leader, however unknowingly, at college, but he gave me tips on confidence. I’ll never forget him for that. I remember not wanting to go back home at the end of that week at camp.

The following year, Robert was arrested because police thought his involuntary movements from Tourette’s were signs of drug use. He asked friends and colleagues to write letters to back up his case as a valuable member of his community.

I got to work and wrote an enthusiastic letter detailing how much he’d helped me and others in our camp community and beyond. I was told my letter helped him get a community service sentence instead of prison. I feel very lucky that my letter was useful in that way, and shortly after, he sent me a piece of his art. Unfortunately, the post office, which routinely messed up my mail, sent it back because of a supposed wrong address.

Several years later, after I’d moved and I gave him my new address, the art finally arrived in the mail. I opened it and saw a canvas with a drawing from markers. It’s called “Blue Boy Feels Joy.”

I lit up with a smile like when I performed at that camp. I may not have understood every nuance of line, shade, and color, but it made me so happy to see me immortalized, as it were, in a drawing. I could make out glasses, my gigantic eyes, and a big smile.

On the other side of the canvas, there’s a note from Robert that starts, “Josh, you were there for me when I needed you most, and I will never forget you.”

Those who know me outside of the internet know that I struggle with taking credit for good things I’ve done. It could be a trauma response, but I don’t go out of my way to help people expecting anything in return.

This was proof that I did something that tangibly helped someone else. I may not always feel grateful for what I do, but I’m sure grateful that Robert didn’t go to prison. This art affirmed not only his gratitude, but also the fact that I make a positive difference.

Many years after meeting Robert and several more since receiving this drawing, I am proud to say that I’ve worked hard on gaining confidence in my career, especially. I tutor college students in writing, and I’m able to navigate difficult situations and set firm boundaries when needed. I’ve had colleagues describe me as the most talented and patient tutor they’ve ever met, and though I know I deserve credit, I feel like I should give Robert some. He always encouraged me to go after what I deserve.

Today I’m going through my apartment to get rid of everything from books and music to old birthday cards. But despite my apartment still being a cluttered mess, there are some objects that I would never want to get rid of. “Blue Boy Feels Joy” is one of them.

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