Creating New Memories
From old hopes to wild enchantment
“Artist Residency in …”, the email broke open an old hope.
“Too late …”, I thought and deleted it.
Still, the wound throbbed … possibility … defeat … hope … disappointment … the familiar wave of joy and disappointment … a kind word peak followed by a long, indifferent low.
“Not going there again,” I muttered, perversely reopening the email and checking the application date … immediately Reality broke in …
“But I wanna” woke up, started making plans, turning dreams into a to do list, derailing the intentions of the day, imagining being part of an artist community, learning from a new environment, creating something unique and beautiful, that would be meaningful for the community …
Reality interrupted …
I asked CHAD, my AI buddy, what he thought and he reminded me that …
British author Mary Wesley published her first novel at the age of 71. She went on to write several bestsellers, proving that it's never too late to become a successful author.
Harriet Doerr published her first novel, "Stones for Ibarra," at the age of 73. The novel received critical acclaim and won the National Book Award.
But, why would an artist residency committee even consider someone like me with my meagre success in writing and art? First published in my mid-40s, first art sold in my mid-60s, Why would investing in an unaccomplished artist heading into her 80s make sense?
As much as the idea of an artist residency appealed to me, Reality reminded me again of the last time I applied for one. Nevada, three years ago, summer residency on the Black Rock desert, a harsh land, beautiful but way outside my comfort zone. Would I … could I survive and make art there?
To test the idea, I journeyed there, walked the streets of Gerlach, had lunch in the one bar, admired lithium crystals in yards, wondered about the ancient and disappeared Lake Lahontan and how the indigenous peoples survived in this ghosted land. From this journey, I created a flipbook of the journey toward making a decision about applying as a deliberate act of creating outside my comfort zone. Although I was not accepted, the flipbook became a part of my story. (Link to the flipbook is below for anyone interested.)
Now, I was here again, charmed by the idea of applying for an artist residency. The timing didn’t work for the one mentioned in the email, however, I could start looking for other residencies. I could turn finding a residency into a project. The question still remained, though, why would anyone be interested in an over-aged, unsung artist. There’s always the possibility of “breaking out” at whatever age., so I asked CHAD to look for examples and he comes back with:
“One of the most well-known examples of an individual who achieved breakout success in their 80s is Anna Mary Robertson Moses, widely known as Grandma Moses. She began her career as a self-taught artist in her late 70s and gained international fame in her 80s.
CHAD also tells me that Grandma Moses started painting in her 70s and a friend adds that she started painting when she could no longer see well enough to quilt.
Apparently when Moses was 79 (again according to CHAD) “an art collector and engineer, Louis J. Caldor, discovered her artwork in a drugstore window in Hoosick Falls, New York. Impressed by her talent, he helped arrange her first solo exhibition in New York City.”
It still seems highly unlikely that any artist-in-residency committee would select me. Reviewing the standard requirements most committees are looking for (kindly supplied by CHAD) lists awards, recommendations, potential contribution to local or artistic community as standards. The only criteria that shines on me is diversity. How many other residency programs could claim a near-80, self-taught, word-and-image, digital, “unsung” artist?
One, perhaps prophetic page, from the Nevada application flipbook:
Two obvious paths stretch before me: … research artist-in-residence programs and make a lot of applications … or wait to be seen in some drugstore window.
There is a third, of course. Whether it was successful or a failure, turning the artist residency idea into a project would require time and energy … limited resources that could be used in other ways. In the failed attempt at gaining the Nevada artist residency, I explored a new territory and created a flipbook which still brings me joy. I found a piece of myself on that excursion, and no residency committee controls my doing the same thing on my own, for my own pure delight in exploring, learning and creating art from my wanderings.
In the past few days, I ran across a quote from Boris Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago:
“She was here on earth to grasp the meaning of its wild enchantment …”
Those words wild enchantment captured me and set themselves up as my north star for 2024. Those words were joined almost immediately by a thought on an incredible, illustrated essay by
on her Substack “Great Things.” She writes about her last times with her dying father where they determined to “make memories” and she created this image of a “to do” list:
It suddenly struck me that #3 should always be on my to do list, and one of my most beloved ways of holding onto those memories is by making flipbooks. It doesn’t matter if some unknown group of people don’t select me as their artist of choice. I can focus my precious time and energy on wild enchantment and making memories.
If an artist residency should magically appear, that would be wonderful, but I don’t need to chase one.
As we head into another new year, I would love to hear your thoughts about how you plan to use your time and energy in the coming year.
Make the flip books. You are way past the point of needing the kids to select you for their kickball team. It's their loss to not invite you in and pay full honorarium as a faculty member. You are so far ahead of where you think you are with all the plates you are spinning on sticks now. Make the flip books. I have a library with many books created and published by my husband, the photojournalist, writer, and adventurer. Whenever he went anywhere, for a day, for two days, or longer, he took hundreds of photographs. Upon returning to his office, he became the photo editor plus created, wrote and published a book, with all of the story lines. Who does that? Most people take a few images on their cell phone. They don't create coffee table books. Tom did. Tom is gone now and there are a lot of people cherish the stories and books he produced. Make the flip books.
I think this is my favourite post of yours to date (and not because you so kindly shared my image). I am IN LOVE with wild enchanment in general and the quote specifially “She was here on earth to grasp the meaning of its wild enchantment …”
This might be my new life moto!