They are children from the richest county in the nation. But James Torrenzano has a portfolio of their pain. Torrenzano known to his students as "Mr. T" is an art therapist, and each year as many as 800 children pass through his classroom at the Fairfax County Juvenile Detention Center. Often violent and uncommunicative on the outside, they pour their feelings out on paper for Mr. T.

"The darkness was basically the depression" a pony tailed 17 year old Springfield girl says, explaining her abstract drawing to a visitor. "The heart being cracked was sadness. The eye was looking out, looking forward into the future."

Like others at the detention center, the Springfield teenager has had a brush with drugs and guns. Increasingly, the children in Torrenzano's class are violent. Many have robbed, raped, even killed.

"In Fairfax County there is so much violence," said Torrenzano, 38. "I mean, you get thirteen year olds with guns".

Although he considers art to be medicine, Torrenzano's mission is not to cure the children in his classroom each Tuesday and Thursday. In the short time he has to spend with them, he tries to give the children an outlet to express their often turbulent emotions and something to feel proud of.

"I want to take this with me", a twelve year old Clifton boy tells Mr. T as he finishes his black and purple abstract drawing. "You can hang it up because I am going to be here for awhile."

The juvenile detention center was designed for an average stay of ten days, but so far this year the stay has stretched to twenty-four days said Vincent M. Picciano, director of juvenile court services.

Some of the children most of whom are ages 11-17, are detained for a few days, Picciano said, while others stay for many months. Many, like the Clifton youth, return again and again. They pick up with their art classes where they left off. Although the children come and go, Torrenzano has photographed the art work for a permanent portfolio.

The detention center was built to hold 55 boys and girls but has been crammed with as many as 81 children at a time. Those facing the most serious charges are detained until their cases are heard in court or they can be placed somewhere else. There are five regular classrooms, and children can earn credit, including credit for their artwork while missing classes at their regular school.

More and more of the children who land in Torrenzano's art work classes come from broken homes.

"Their in crisis, and need a guide" said Teresa Mary Zutter, principal of the school program at the detention center. "James centers them for awhile. He quiets them through their art."

Torrenzano began a recent art class the way he always does with soothing background music. "I think you are going to have 12 and they're wound up", a staff member warned him.

Within moments, the teenagers, some just returned from emotional court appearances, seemed totally absorbed by the sculpture, painting, or drawing in front of them.

"He just has the most gentle way that has the most hostile kids producing works of art," Zutter said. "He believes fervently that all of us are artists."

Inside his classroom troubled youths wield crayons and colored pencils instead of weapons. Surrounded by walls covered with brightly colored artwork, they look and sound like kids again; "Mr. T! Mr.T! I don't it to smear!"

Torrenzano who is also a faculty member at Marymount University, guides his students through a program he developed called "The Transporter Series." It is a series of twelve art projects, each with its own symbolic theme.

Students first draw a bridge, which Torrenzano believes helps connect them to the group, then move on to such assignments as the beast, beauty, and transformation. Torrenzano says he often sees a cry for help in the bridges the children draw.

"There are a lot of broken bridges," Torrenzano said. "Some are on fire. I've had bridges start in the water and end in the water. What does that say? That's painful. That's going nowhere."

Some of the children's artwork is on display at the juvenile courthouse, known as Family Court, in a show titled "Traveling Dreams."

When groups of adults tour the courthouse, Picciano says, they seem transfixed by the art exhibit. "They always are really sort of taken aback by the emotional power," Picciano said. "They also see a lot of disturbance in it." One particularly powerful piece hangs in the lobby. To make the piece, members of different youth gangs attending the art class touched hands- a moment recorded forever with plaster and paint. In the far right corner, another hand, from a counselor, reaches out toward the group. "There's a basic goodness in all of us, " Torrenzano said. "Art is a bridge to touching that healing." "So often," he said of the children, they're labeled 'destructive'. The art has no label."