I am having trouble writing something genuine today, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the community I’ve found myself in completely by chance. I am amazed that I feel at home in this weird old house with these people who were complete strangers six weeks ago. Yet, I’m having trouble putting words to this feeling in less than a cheesy inauthentic way. I find that happens a lot with artmaking, when the feeling is too much the work comes out, not quite there. Like the bigness of what’s happening isn’t quite able to be put into something consumable yet, time is what allows us to see events in our lives with more nuance, sometimes even changing an event completely.
Occasionally I’ll wonder if the first feelings or the revised history is more true, I guess individually the revised history is more true, because that’s usually the one we choose to believe. The revised version is the version of events from which I make work now, there was a semester in school when all I did was make work as a direct reaction to what was happening and it was exhausting. I loved that work, but it wasn’t healthy to live that close to open wounds, so now I process and edit and I am more cautious, which arguably (and convincingly) could be a pretty bad thing. I think there is a way to go back to making things a little more raw without exhausting myself in the way that I was exhausting myself back then. Risk taking as an artist is a good thing as long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else.
Anyway, I am home now, and that home is filled with joy and music and dancing and community. I feel lucky and comfortable for the first time in a while and it’s overwhelming. There are terrifying things happening both good terrifying things and bad terrifying things, but It’s okay. I am equipped to handle it, and even if I don’t totally believe that I think the more I see it written or hear it said out loud the more I believe it.
Until next time