Porcupines and Tombstones
In a world where arts funding can be viewed as superfluous, I sometimes find it difficult to defend my value as a human being. But the belief I ultimately have in myself is strengthened by people like those I met at MacDowell this February: the staff and fellows who take the work we artists do seriously, and who are seriously committed to their own work. I would like to give thanks to the staff at MacDowell for developing and maintaining the best possible environment for the creation of art; for the care taken in the preparations for our arrivals and departures, the snow plowing of the roads and the ice grippers we could borrow, the perfection of my studio and the alacrity with which two enormously long tables were procured for me, the light table that had been left on my desk, the multiple walls I could easily pin things to as well as the jar of pushpins, the linens that were washed and the floors that were vacuumed, the lunches packed into baskets and delivered to our doorsteps every day, the keys to the library that allowed us access at all hours of the day and night ... The number of details the staff at MacDowell pay attention to are innumerable, and the thank-yous I would like to give back are equally so.
I was expecting my residency to be a time of focused isolation where I could make significant progress on my Ichi Oku House Project. Instead, I found that the most valuable part of the experience was seeing myself and being seen as a peer among both the artists who were present in February and those that have been coming since MacDowell’s founding in 1907. Each studio at MacDowell houses a set of wooden “tombstones” on which every artist who uses the studio signs their name before leaving. The signatures on the tombstones above the fireplace in my studio dated back to 1910. I am grateful to have been invited into this generous community of painters, puppeteers, writers, sculptors, poets, architects, filmmakers, composers, choreographers, quiltmakers, photographers, playwrights, comic book artists, performance artists, video artists, and artists of every stripe whose work defies labelling and crosses disciplines. Learning about their practices, seeing, hearing, and reading their work, and joining in conversations challenged me and lifted me.
So, what work did I do? Can I prove to you that the three weeks I spent at MacDowell were fruitful? Do you care that I woke up and began working at X o’clock every morning or that I worked X number of hours every day or that I hand-wrote X number of journal entries or that I printed and re-printed and printed again X pages of outlines that I then taped and re-taped to X sheets of kraft paper? Probably not. But the people at MacDowell understand the value in this part of the process that is often invisible in the finished product. I am so grateful that they give us the freedom to do what is best for our work.
My artistic practice of honing ideas is neither linear nor speedy. I went to MacDowell with vague ideas that I would do some writing but, just in case, I lugged all sorts of tools and equipment with me in the event that I might need them. As I fleshed out my thoughts on pieces of paper that I physically cut apart and moved around, it became apparent that what I assumed was one giant project would be better served if divided into four. Simplifying Ichi Oku House Project in this way has given it clarity, and the three projects that I teased out of it can sit quietly to its side until I am ready to delve into them further. I consider that extremely fruitful.
Stepping back into the world of responsibilities and expectations, it is easy to feel like I never left. A familiar fear rises up in me that I cannot waste the gift of time that I was given at MacDowell. I must hold on to the focus. I cannot squander the momentum. But perhaps I should formulate a lesson from the baby porcupine who set up residence under my porch the last three nights that I was at MacDowell. The porcupine feels no need to defend its value or justify the thirty-six hours it spent sleeping. Take from that what you will. Just know that I’ll be working, in a way that works for me.
