I’m nearly 2 months out of completing my MFA at RISD. It feels like a lifetime ago, probably because it was just a very different life. I had a structure to my day. A place to be at a specific time that was non-negotiable. I think that structure was really helpful for my mental health, as well as my productivity. Now I work out- which wow is fucking NECESSARY for my mental health, and then squander my days looking for jobs I don’t want for less money than I want, often in a city I don’t live in. I get zero responses. And after several rejections from projects I thought the monument was great for- I’m so tired of rejection. I don’t usually take public art call rejections personally but these last two really stung. I’m taking a step back from the monument for a minute even though I have a research grant I received for it… I’m not sure what to do about all of that. It’s just so much work for very little in return.
So what am I doing? Am I still an artist if I really don’t want to make anything? I haven’t been making studio work for years, and tbh nothing is exciting right now. I have ideas I like, but the actual making of them just feels like a chore, not an opportunity for exploration and expression. The monument was more like 2.5 years of running a non-profit that everyone was too scared to support bc of it’s context. What’s worse than running a non-profit? Paying to run a non-profit and getting no results.
As for being an artist, I realize I don’t really have “a process” that I enjoy. Currently it’s come up with a cool idea, be excited during that period, then produce it- and feel little to no joy in the process or with it’s completion. I always view it as “WORK”. I mean why be a penniless artist if I don’t truly enjoy what I do? Especially when sales aren’t promised? That begs the horrible question I haven’t been able to answer yet- which is what do I actually enjoy doing?
Sam is encouraging me to “play”…. I know this sounds dramatic but wtf does that even mean? I don’t know what material I even want to work with, aside from I need it to be analog. I’ve been needlepointing, an ode to Grandma Lewis whom I don’t remember needlepointing but she definitely gifted us pillows and dolls and things. I need to figure out what feels good to do. I was looking into looms, something about creating soft things, repetition, and embracing ‘feminine’ making feels important.
I also have always been drawn to color- buying multiple cans of the same color because it just excited me back in my spray paint days…. deeply saturated, fluorescent colors, paired with nuanced pastels feels powerful and exciting.
Also non-violent materials as much as possible are important. So natural materials- wood, paper, vegetable dyes, dried plants etc. I don’t want to cause harm. Our world is so fragile and it’s easy to not think about the impacts our material choices have… reused materials, trash, dump salvage.
I’ve been thinking about dump hunting in Duluth for ‘Bob Lewis Olds Mazda’ old cars. Probably looking for needles in a haystacks, and what would I do with them—- no idea, but I think it would be cathartic to do something with those rotting, “forever chemicals” hunks of steel and aluminum. Beat the fuck out of them and turn them into something useful or caring or beneficial for others. I’ve always thought it would be a great collaboration between me and the siblings one day. http://www.chesneyautosalvage.com/cgi-bin/search.cgi
This is an auto salvage spot in Duluth that has a really strong online inventory of what they have. Kinda of a pain to search but they have some elements I’m looking for- and they’re cheap as one might expect. Maybe I take some time in MN and use Martin’s garage to make some works. Erm, maybe not. Maybe they need to be brought out here so I don’t devolve into that small person I work so hard to shake off. That town is hyper-loaded with emotions for me- both Dad and Martin were tough guys to grow up with as father figures. Martin continues to be emotionally abusive. At least Dad has evolved out of that part of himself (for the most part), though there’s a lot of shame and guilt he carries. It would be interesting to use those materials in reflection of his growth, not just as an outlet of my enduring rage, loss, and profoundly foundational sorrow.
I know my process has been very research heavy, but I’d also like it to be very much creating without an expected exact final result. I want to have my emotions be present when I’m physically interacting/creating the work- so those guide my movements, decisions, and aesthetics.
I now want to show up in my work. Which is a wild thing to feel. I have turned the corner on just caring for others and the rest of the world- excluding myself from this care. I just can’t do it anymore. I thought I had the stamina to do it forever. Turns out that dwindles when you spend over a decade putting yourself last. Fuck a decade, try four. Society teaches women (and some men) to put everyone else’s needs first. It was absolutely (and still is) modeled by my mother. Spending your whole life ignoring your own needs makes for one miserable existence. It’s taken me 40 years to figure this out- damn the patriarchal systems are POWERFUL. It took me 30 years to realize other women are wonderful and a huge part of what makes me joyful. That’s horrifying.
The works don’t need to be political statements- I’d prefer them to be explorations of my healing processes, catharsis, and tools to facilitate the release of the people pleasing little kid, the human who walks on eggshells, the woman who disengages with most men, the person who is concurrently afraid of, and disdains men in positions of power. I’m ready for the woman who is brazenly herself in all company, sees eye to eye with men in positions of power, who knows and demands her value and worth in all circumstances and circles. Perhaps these are profound political statements because I am using them to shake off, expel, the invisible elephantine powers that have smothered and suffocated me (in that cardboard box), my light, power, creativity, and rage for 41 years. I am taking gas-guzzling hunks of the past (representations of my father’s ego, capitalism, greed, and American exceptionalism, and adultery) to create representations of the future I envision that is free of the layers upon layers of misogyny, blind patriarchal compliance, ego and selfishness. That is the foundation I was raised upon. Like layers of earth that tell the planet’s past stories (sorry no history here) what I add to the layers is important. What is the contribution I offer to humanity’s layers of life, and story and evolution? What grows from these toxic layers, how can I transform toxins into autonomy, joy, health, care, and community? Like Charlie mentioned- it is an alchemistic process. Transforming pain and devastation into care, joy, and confidence. Yeah, confidence. That one is important.