“Unprecedented times” is a term I am not fond of, because like “normality” it is a subjective idea. Racial injustice and white supremacy are not “unprecedented,” they have been a core function of this society since before its inception, and those of us who benefit from this oppressive and systemically violent structure have been having our eyes opened time and time again, only to close them once more for the sake of comfort and the status quo. The arts are no different in this regard. It comes from a place of immense privilege to say that you can just focus on your art, to shut out the world, and I never want that to be the case for my or my practice. Art should help people. Art can be a refuge, but it must recognize and reflect the world around it, not turning its back on injustice, and instead lifting people up and standing hand in hand with them.
Art is an inherent part of my nature, it will never go away, even if I don’t pick up a camera or pen for months, or in some cases, years. However, art is a part of what I call my rhythm, my routine that helps me stabilize and improve upon my well-being. I want to keep positive, but I don’t want to focus on silver linings while people are dying of a pandemic that could have been mitigated, while Black people are once again having to fight and riot and beg to be seen as human and given a shred of the dignity, respect, and justice they have been denied time and time again. As much as I consider myself a Romantic, I will not romanticize my making art as some grand act of resistance or justice. If art is holding up a mirror to reality, then we need to look at the quality of that mirror, who makes it, who holds it, and who gets to look into it. Most of my time this year has been spent focusing on systems of care: in my workplace, in West Philadelphia, and across the country for those fighting against racial injustice and white supremacy. I include myself in the system of care, which includes my art practice, only because I recognize that I cannot properly help others if I am not well. I don’t need to be personally great, I can just be okay, and that’s all I need to be in order to function and help others, because others are not “okay.” Since the stay-at-home orders went into place in March, I have thought of my predicament as floating in a foggy lake. Treading water, not drowning, but not going anywhere. And honestly? That’s lucky.
The works in my Garden of the Midsummer Chaos are not an escape, and I hesitate to even call them a refuge. These cyanotypes, an alternative process dear to my heart that I have not touched in three years, are a way for me to get back into a rhythm I lost. If my art is a mirror held up to reality, then these images are a meditative practice for me to reflect on my own person, why I make art, and who is it for. How can I make my art more accessible, and how can I learn to make the arts overall more accessible to everyone? It is a vital form of communication and expression that should not be bound by any rules save for those of the creator. Again, this art is not a refuge for me, but a reflection, a momentary place to pause and ponder my surroundings and what I can do to make the world a better place. Everyone deserves a garden, a place where they can go and listen to the song of life pass by, and be comfortable with where they are.
No one knows for certain how long the pandemic will last, but each and every one of us must continue to do our best, and for those of us who have been holding that ages old mirror, it’s about time we take a good look at ourselves and shatter that mirror. It’s just one more antique of a system designed to reflect the faces of a select few. Yes, it has been used to highlight and draw attention to injustices, but often those images are reflected in ways that are digestible to the people maintaining the system, and not everyone gets to see themselves in it. So, pick up those pieces and help create a new mirror, one that reflects all of humanity. There are no fairies to cause chaos that ultimately reveals and restores the true nature of things, that sets all things right. There's only us, and we must continue to work the everyday miracles that will make the world a better place.
I’ll wax a little more Romantic and end this with a quote from Leonard Berstein’s Candide, and it is a verse that has resonated with me time and time again:
Art is an inherent part of my nature, it will never go away, even if I don’t pick up a camera or pen for months, or in some cases, years. However, art is a part of what I call my rhythm, my routine that helps me stabilize and improve upon my well-being. I want to keep positive, but I don’t want to focus on silver linings while people are dying of a pandemic that could have been mitigated, while Black people are once again having to fight and riot and beg to be seen as human and given a shred of the dignity, respect, and justice they have been denied time and time again. As much as I consider myself a Romantic, I will not romanticize my making art as some grand act of resistance or justice. If art is holding up a mirror to reality, then we need to look at the quality of that mirror, who makes it, who holds it, and who gets to look into it. Most of my time this year has been spent focusing on systems of care: in my workplace, in West Philadelphia, and across the country for those fighting against racial injustice and white supremacy. I include myself in the system of care, which includes my art practice, only because I recognize that I cannot properly help others if I am not well. I don’t need to be personally great, I can just be okay, and that’s all I need to be in order to function and help others, because others are not “okay.” Since the stay-at-home orders went into place in March, I have thought of my predicament as floating in a foggy lake. Treading water, not drowning, but not going anywhere. And honestly? That’s lucky.
The works in my Garden of the Midsummer Chaos are not an escape, and I hesitate to even call them a refuge. These cyanotypes, an alternative process dear to my heart that I have not touched in three years, are a way for me to get back into a rhythm I lost. If my art is a mirror held up to reality, then these images are a meditative practice for me to reflect on my own person, why I make art, and who is it for. How can I make my art more accessible, and how can I learn to make the arts overall more accessible to everyone? It is a vital form of communication and expression that should not be bound by any rules save for those of the creator. Again, this art is not a refuge for me, but a reflection, a momentary place to pause and ponder my surroundings and what I can do to make the world a better place. Everyone deserves a garden, a place where they can go and listen to the song of life pass by, and be comfortable with where they are.
No one knows for certain how long the pandemic will last, but each and every one of us must continue to do our best, and for those of us who have been holding that ages old mirror, it’s about time we take a good look at ourselves and shatter that mirror. It’s just one more antique of a system designed to reflect the faces of a select few. Yes, it has been used to highlight and draw attention to injustices, but often those images are reflected in ways that are digestible to the people maintaining the system, and not everyone gets to see themselves in it. So, pick up those pieces and help create a new mirror, one that reflects all of humanity. There are no fairies to cause chaos that ultimately reveals and restores the true nature of things, that sets all things right. There's only us, and we must continue to work the everyday miracles that will make the world a better place.
I’ll wax a little more Romantic and end this with a quote from Leonard Berstein’s Candide, and it is a verse that has resonated with me time and time again:
“We’re neither pure, nor wise, nor good
We’ll do the best we know.
We’ll build our house and chop our wood
and make our garden grow.”
We’ll do the best we know.
We’ll build our house and chop our wood
and make our garden grow.”
There doesn’t not need to be any grand philosophizing for compassion, no great investigation or experiment into the nature of kindness, for it is as simple as a heartbeat. We should do good deeds not because it will gain us glory or favor in the eyes of others, but simply because it is what we must do. We must fight, we must heal, we must acknowledge where pain and injustice have been rampant and systemically organized against marginalized groups, we must rebuild for a better future, a better garden, because we must. That's all there is to it, at the core of our actions, our lives. That is why I continue to make art, why I reflect and learn and do my best to help others, because what else is there?
