At 15 books and 10 clamshell boxes into an edition of 50, the end does not feel anywhere in sight. But I don't have to let that rattle me from what I'm re-learning: take it one day at at time. Quite literally, my intention (and actions, so far) is to get my hands on the edition once a day. Some days it's for ten minutes, others it's for an hour or two...but every day, I make a little progress.
This is not a new idea. I've used it in the past, taking it down to one hour at a time in the worst of times. Talented classmate and friend Leslie Patterson-Marx inspired its application to art last summer during our artist book workshop with Susan King. In her altered book, One Day at a Time, Leslie carved one mark into the book each day for thirty days - a meditational performance piece of sorts - the fruits of her effort only clear after she steadily showed up every day to do as she had committed.
This is very satisfying. It keeps extreme thinking and behaviors at bay, and grounds me in the present. This promises to be an extraordinary year, glimmers of opportunity to come already on my radar. As things ramp up - and they are, for sure - I'll serve myself and others well by taking it one day at a time.
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Just stumbled onto artist Gregory Colbert's work, Ashes & Snow. His 18-year ongoing collaboration with people and animals around the globe is a testament to long-term vision, steady persistance and stunning beauty.
He shares his work through photography, film, installation, and the book arts. The scope, depth, scale, and beauty of this work take my breath away.
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Moira McCauley's 2010 letterpress calendarMy, what a difference a decade makes. On January 1, 2000 my life could not have been more different. I was completely lost on all fronts of my life and floundering. Worst of all, I'd lost myself and wasn't ready to admit it. I spent the first decade of the new millennium digging myself out of a huge hole.
In retrospect, I feel no shame - this was a necessary passage, part of designing an intentional and authentic life. The gift for me in 2009 was that I uncovered my compassion. For myself and for others, particularly for people with whom I've struggled or who have hurt me. At the risk of sounding like a cliche or new-age self-help book: they've been my greatest teachers.
I spent much of the last decade doing. In the words of my friend and gifted writer Joanne Lozar Glenn, I was more of a human doing than a human being, going out with a bang at the end of 2009 by over-doing too much of a good thing. This distinction comes to mind as I contemplate a new year, a new decade.
And I turn back to a still older friend, Simple Abundance. This book was a lifeline in the early 2000s, given to me twice (I really needed it, but ignored it the first time) by my BFF Mandy. I recently pulled it out again as a touchstone after the dust settled this December from my whirlwind fall. Abundance, yes - but not at all simple. Time to go back to the basics that I know work for me. Once I got past my "I'm over this" and "boy, this is corny" resistance, I'm finding the daily meditations refreshing and packed with new meaning at this point in my life.
This morning's journaling revealed a slightly different twist on New Year's intentions: instead of diving into the yummy pile of exhibition calls and residency applications I've been saving for this very day, I'm intentionally setting them aside for today. Instead, I'm pondering what simple abundance might look like for me in 2010.
Happy New Decade, to you, too!
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My acupuncturist, Pilar - a true healer, had her hands full with me yesterday. Apparently, I was still in overdrive from this fall's over committed pace. An unrelenting surge of creativity and productive energy wouldn't be such a problem much of the year, but this time of "water" in traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) is supposed to be a period of deep rest and recovery.
Everything has a natural cycle: birth, growth, harvest, decline. Every 24 hours. Every 12 months. Every life. For me, TCM offers a natural and intuitive way to gauge my wellbeing. In the three years since working with Pilar, I've become increasingly aware of these cycles and try to honor them. This fall, I knew that I was pushing it, contradicting what nature asked in the season of "metal:" eliminate, let go, slow down.
Like an over-revved engine, I couldn't stand down, possibly explaining my first-ever migraine, churning thoughts, and reluctance to do as little as possible, while feeling generally worn out despite plenty of sleep.
So Pilar put me into "water," with instructions to lie reasonably low until mid-February. Do what I must to keep life on track, but no new major projects. To burst forth with fresh, abundant creative energy come Spring, I've got to let things run their natural course.
]]>Rebecca Kamen is a local Northern Virginia artist with a galactic vision. Her work mashes up science, art, performance and installation. She collaborated with Jane Franklin Dance this past year to marry contemporary sculpture with contemporary dance. I'm fascinated by this mix, visions of future collaborations dancing in my own head.
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My paper nest in our Christmas tree, which I placed there trying to alleviate my guilt from removing a real nest in our eaves the day before Saturday's blizzard. I thought the nest was empty, but apparently it was home to a pair of very pissed-off birds who are now stalking our front door. I've been throwing crackers and bread crumbs out for them (our bird feeder stands empty). Lots of bird action chez nous...they may be homeless, but at least they're well-fed.]]>
Pandora's Box opening at Target GalleryArchetypes: Journey to Self is a piece I started in August 2008 while at Penland - a crazy, strangely obsessive need to create this Mandala-shaped three-tiered box, full of hidden compartments, drawers and potential meaning. Then it sat, beautiful but empty, for over a year. I'd designed it with a vision of filling it with content-laden books and hidden treasures, but was too intimidated to really interact with what the piece was asking me to confront. It took the pressure of an exhibition for me to dive in, and even then, I orchestrated so many obstacles that I nearly missed the deadline.
It was in the creative process that I came to understand more about what this piece represents for me, but even now, I know I don't know the whole story. For now I'm satisfied that I've "birthed a courageous work of art" (thanks, Jen!) that asked me to push beyond what I thought possible.
Archetypes is in the Pandora's Box exhibit at the Torpedo Factory's Target Gallery through January 10th.
That was Thursday. Then on Friday, we launched Moving Parts.
As individual an effort as Archetypes was, Moving Parts has a cast of thousands. Well, dozens. This baby may have been my idea, but it has morphed into something well beyond me at this point. Friday's launch event was a delightful mash-up of book art, live dance performance, experimental music, and lovers of the visual and performing arts, all brought together at Hillyer Art Space. Our raffle package (boxed collector's set of ten artist books, project documentary on DVD, complementary tickets to a CityDance performance, workshop at Pyramid Atlantic, and behind the scenes tours) and silent auction netted us enough funding to help defray production costs, while bookartist talks and dancers moved us - some to tears.
Moving Parts launch party at Hillyer Art SpaceHaving never done something like this before, I didn't know what to expect. We didn't raise as much money as I'd hoped for, but we did host an innovative and exciting event that put CityDance, Pyramid Atlantic and Hillyer in a good spotlight. Attendees seems genuinely interested in and intrigued by the whole idea, with more than one person telling me how much they were learning (book arts? contemporary dance? wow!). So a very positive response, at a busy time of year, in the worst recession ever? I'll take it!
Nor am I under any delusion that selling 39 more of these boxed sets (properly priced, not giving them away) will be easy or swift. Next year will be one of learning how to market and sell art, a task I'm eager to understand and accomplish.
Putting deeply personal content out into the world has broken its hold on me, while at the same time, renders me clearer. What a miracle, art.
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