january hibernation

I guess January is officially over. I always get a little sad when January's over, because then it means my birthday's over, and also it means that I don't get to write the upper-case cursive "J" everyday for a while now. Maybe that doesn't make much sense, but I just really love writing upper-case cursive Js. This year, the end of January means LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS FOR REALZ NOW.

I came back to campus and had a minor crisis almost immediately. What am I doing? What does this all actually look like? Am I actually being collaborative? Am I actually making worthwhile art that makes a difference and changes the world? I followed Greg around for a few nights in the art barn, asking him to really dish it to me, and really tell me what he thought. And I had to look at my projects from last semester and really think about if they were successful or what I wanted to be doing. So many of them relied on other people caring about my project as much as I did. I relied on my friends showing up at the last minute and participating. My hand as an artist wasn't there as much, and I was almost too vague or open-ended in my attempts to make everything open and available for personal interpretation.

So I was left with the question of control and authorship -- do I really have to chose between being a collaborative artist and being a "normal" artist? If I am presenting my own project, am I lying to myself saying that I'm being egalitarian and open to others' ideas? Am I still collaborating if I'm actually controlling?

Down to basics: what do I actually want to be doing? I want to make a difference. I want to create spaces to get outside of our machinery, create places to interact and be extraordinary. I want to create spaces for new understandings of each other, for stories to be told which would otherwise never be heard.

From all this over-thinking I came up with a new idea that brought my work together and had a clear focus, clear path and conclusion for the next few months. I will be creating an imaginary world, a place that viewers enter into and are asked to engage with. They move through the different rooms of this world and participate in different ways with different "mini-projects" set up. Each will ask the viewer to think about homes, being at home, who is included, excluded, and if we can make homes anywhere. How can we be lonely in a filled-up-world of together?

I'm really excited about this. It feels really right. I have been speaking with and writing to so many people and friends and mentors in my life and this project is growing and changing and real. It feels good to take authorship of the project, and just declare it as my own, but also know that it is way bigger than myself, and that I need others around me supporting me in order to make it happen. I am creating a team to make some amazing things happen -- and the best part is that they are so excited too. It's like all I had to do was ask confidently and concretely, and suddenly so many people in the world are rising up to stand right next to me and make my visions reality.

so that's what I've been up to all January. Lots of lists and plans and computers. Which makes me very suspicious of myself. I could get lost in my lists. I use lists to put off actually doing anything. And now it's February. So I guess it's time to start doing things!

I started with some stuffed animals. From a big bag I have had sitting in my studio I started cutting up the most horrible ones. I cut out little windows into the bodies and then filled them with things -- a chestnut I picked up in Montreal when Elizabeth and I went there last year, shells Tessa and I used to collect from the beach at home, a toy dinosaur from an art project first year, a glitter-y rock from a scavenger hunt in high school. Mom, can you please send me the rest of the sentimental junk that's lying around my room? thanks.

go go go go...