Hi all,
It’s been a while. It would seem the last time I attempted some correspondence through here was nearly six months ago. Much has changed since then for me, as I’m sure it has for you. I feel some urgency to write about it. So, I’m here, again, for some unknown period of time, to share with you what has been going on.
Shortly before I last wrote to you–July 22nd to be exact–I started working as a Studio Assistant for Tiona Nekkia McClodden. I had been following Tiona’s work since I was junior at UArts, when I had attended a lecture she was presenting in late 2019. Her work immediately arrested me. Around the end of April, she had shared in her newsletter that she was looking to hire an assistant that could help facilitate some administrative work through the end of the year. I applied, interviewed, and was surprised when she offered me the position. As a performer, I possessed little to no experience or understanding of how galleries and exhibitions actually function. I follow the work and the contemporary art-market closely, and pride myself on knowing the who’s who, but in general, I lacked any production related experience.
My time working for Tiona was extremely formative. She is an artist who’s work and practice speaks for itself, but her generosity as a mentor and boss unparalleled. She afforded me the space to grow, but offered guidance when necessary. She’s a razor-sharp thinker, and we spent many hours discussing the intricacies of the current artistic climate and economy, and how young artists may fare in the years to come. She is a true force in collaboration, and I vehemently believe that she is the kind of artist who makes waves in legacy institutions, and ultimately forces these concentrations of power to renegotiate the ways in which they fund, program, and support artists in all stages of their careers. As a Philadelphia-based artist, she will go down in our shared history as someone who is not only deeply invested in her practice, but in her community. Having learned the importance of maintaining my archive, practice, and ideas around self in collaboration, I am, without hesitation, a stronger artist having worked for her.
In June, I had the opportunity to assist in the production of Trade School with The Philadelphia Thing. I spent a lot of time in the car, driving folks to and from the airport and Lowes, but most of my time was spent offering production support to Propelled Animals, a rich cohort of artists who welcomed me immediately with excitement and grace. Thanks are in order for Sarah Bishop-Stone who offered me the opportunity, and Natalie Robin, a former professor and fantastic mentor who bridged me to Sarah.
After Trade School, I went back to Fork. Part-time at first, then full-time. I had left in the beginning of April in an attempt to enter into a new market. I thought freelancing would work, and when it didn’t, I went back to bartending and serving. I was broke, and had over $1,000 in credit card debt after officially moving in with Jeffrey. I was forced to let go of the belief that I had held about my personal failure and working in restaurants. The work is flexible, I’m good at it, my bills are paid, and the people are great.
In September, I spent two-weeks in New York at MOtiVE Brooklyn, where my work Scoring the End was given space, time, and consideration as it was being developed. I split my time staying with two dear friends, Sammi and Lydia, who so graciously opened their doors to me. Not working for two-weeks was nice, and I was fortunate to be working in the studio for four hours, each day, for two straight weeks. This process really taught me what it means to be in residence, and that the models which structure our particular economy must be learned in order for them to be fruitful. Which is to say that half the battle of being an artist, is figuring out exactly how to be the kind of artist you want to be. Dearest thanks to Meredith and Lilach for nurturing this project and my work.
Making Scoring the End was challenging. The material itself was easy to deal with, but navigating questions around the form was difficult and exhausting. I spent most of my time interrogating my own artistry, trying to discern what kind of work I was interested in making. I wanted the form itself to emerge out of the particular circumstances of the present. The ones that feel violent, shattered, and precarious. It didn’t quite arrive, and on my second to last night in New York, I called Jeffrey crying, after just sharing the work, telling him that I feel like I failed. The feedback and the reception was overwhelmingly positive, but I still can’t shake the feeling that I missed something. I think a large part of my frustration can be attributed to the fact that I don’t believe I challenged myself to become a better artist through this work. It all felt stagnant, and I didn’t trust whatever intrinsic creative force lives inside of me enough. On my last night in New York, I told my friend, Neva, that I was not interested in creating work that was inherently about anything. I said that I was instead, interested in making work that taught me about the kind of performance it is I want to be creating. The work as a kind of tool for making more work, not as a representation of a particular network of ideas. The work as thought itself, not materialized or actualized thought, but itself a kind of thinking though contemporary practice.
Inevitably, the work was performed, but by the second performance, I was on auto-pilot. Throughout all of this, including the many months prior to my residency and performances, I was also in rehearsals and then showings for Dance/sing, another work that was the brainchild of Katherine Desimine and a collaboration between Lilly McGonigle, Tori Breen, Maddy Mikami, and myself, A.K.A. Darling Performance Group. This work we shared was playful and spirited and the many hours we spent in the studio felt very much like an incubator for how we might make work in these particular economic circumstances. I thank Kat for the call to arms, and of course Lilly, Maddy, and Tori for our commitment to one another and our shared work.
I had little downtime between the closure of both shows and my entering back into full-time work. Between Tiona’s studio and Fork, I was averaging 50+ hours per week. When October started, I told myself that I would treat this time like a residency to get my finances in order. Just get through Thanksgiving. This was my mantra for nearly two months. And when Thanksgiving ended, it became, Just get through Christmas. I’m sure you can guess what it became after Christmas.
Despite the unreasonable amount of money that I was making during this period wherein I completely invested myself into the work of others, I would not do it again, nor would I recommend it to any friends. I think it was formative, but the experience taught me the value of my own time, and what stands to be lost if I don’t fight for that value. This investment into a rigorous work schedule was entirely self-inflicted, however. I needed to not only distance myself from my creative practice, but I also work best when I can prepare my savings in such a way that allows me to fund my projects personally–so as to avoid any artistic compromise–and now, when the time is ultimately right, I am in a position to do that.
Thanksgiving was forgettable because I worked all day. I told myself that I would never work holidays again, despite having worked nearly every holiday the past three years. The day was long, stressful, and tinged with sadness, but part of that is attributed to my general melancholic worldview. I wish I could say more, but there’s not much to say.
Jeffrey and I visited my mother on Christmas. Seeing either parent always comes with some amount of pain. I put some distance between myself and my mother about two-and-a-half years ago, and it’s something neither of us talk about, but it helps me get through my day-to-day. Despite this, the day was well celebrated and restful.
On the 28th, we celebrated Jeffrey’s birthday. If you know me and Jeffrey, you know that our relationship is particular. And despite the amount of “queer” women who post about loving, platonic relationships on Instagram, this is something Jeffrey and I actually have and work to sustain. Regardless, I felt more prepared this year to celebrate and support those around me. I refused to engage with any insecurity that in prior years was quick to arise around the holidays and birthdays. I always fear that I’m too selfish to celebrate anyone around me, and that the very fear itself is felt by those around me. It’s unjustified, and entirely untrue, but I’m sure has something to do with being an emotionally distant only-child. So, this year, I wanted things to feel authentic and not so contrived or worked for. We spent most of the day frying our brains playing Fortnite, but were able to secure an amazing dinner at Amanda Schulman’s Her Place.
My father visited the city on the 29th. It was a brief stay, and I was nervous the entire time leading up to his arrival. My father drives a giant white work van to the city, which takes three hours form his home in Virginia. He navigates his drive with a Garmin GPS from 2012 and still uses a prepaid flip phone. He’s old-fashioned and extremely laid back, but anticipating his arrival to the city still has a tendency to put me on edge. He stayed for the night, and I walked him to his van early the next morning before heading into work.
New Years Eve and New Years Day were exhausting. I spent the entirety of both days at Fork. On the 5th, however, Jeffrey and I left for Alabama to visit his parents. While there, we usually spend most of our time eating, lounging, shooting guns, and driving somewhat aimlessly, and this time was no different. It’s restful and typically timely. We got back to the city the evening of the 8th, and Jeffrey started his new job on the 9th.
Throughout all of this, I read at a few poetry readings and had the immense privilege to design two books for Poet’s Row, an organization which was valiantly assembled by my good friend James Milanesi in the last months of 2021, and dutifully offered writers and poets in the city of Philadelphia (and beyond) a platform to share their writing and engage with other creatives. ISSUEii is currently in print, and boasts so much extraordinary talent. With that being said, I have decided to step away from the organization in all capacities, simply given the nature of my current work and career. I am leaving on the best of terms, and I am beyond enthusiastic to see where James, Amanda, Alejandro, Christian, and the next cohort take this magazine. If you came to a reading, or supported the work being done in any capacity, thank you.
It’s been a few days now, and I’m back to work. I’ll be 24 at the end of the month which means nothing in and of itself, but is a fact which is still very curious. I’ve been writing extensively for the past few months, but keeping it all private and to myself. Scrawled in my notebooks on various pages, from various days, is the phrase, This immense grief. No one died, and I have little to mourn. I cannot explain the grief, but I know that it was present. I don’t recall the day that it dissipated, but I can tell that it has mostly gone away. I trip over small remnants of it here and there and have been since the beginning of the year, but it is no longer accumulating in the same way that it was before.
PIG is funny for many reasons. I have used this platform, albeit inconsistently, since the very beginning of 2021. PIG has been a particular space which welcomes me with open arms, whenever I am ready to make my return. I don’t know why, after all this time, I felt it was apt to write to those of you who are still subscribed. PIG is like the kind of always here and now. I don’t know for how long I’ll stick around, but I’m at least here for now.
What I’m…
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Ceylon - Remastered by Celer – 55 minutes of pure, ambient bliss. This has been my work, write, dance music for the past few weeks now.
XXX Olympiad by Ross From Friends – I saw Ross From Friends live maybe last spring at Warehouse on Watts, and pregamed at Vernick Food and Drink alongside Jeffrey with an alarming aggression. Needless to say, it was the most expensive pregame in the history of pregames, and Jeffrey broke his wrist that night after a catastrophic fall near the bathrooms at WHW. The night lives on, and Ross From Friends is a legend.
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Russia 1985–1999: TraumaZone by Adam Curtis – Can’t Get You Out of My Head made me cry. There’s something about the relationship that Curtis has with the archives but also simply the emotional register of his work in relation to the history in which it expands upon is breathtaking.
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Investigative Aesthetics: Conflicts and Commons in the Politics of Truth, by Matthew Fuller + Eyal Weizman – An interesting read regarding data, aesthetics, and the work of Forensic Architecture. It argues less and reads more like a reflection of the importance of the work that FA and other individual artists and institutions engage with. I’ll likely finish it, but I don’t know if you should.
Critique of Everyday Life, by Henri Lefebvre – I’m spending my year getting through this beast. I read some excerpts during undergrad, but have had a copy sitting on my shelf for years now. Excited to parse through some specific arguments of Lefebvre’s that deal with urban analysis and city planning.
Busy, busy! Glad to hear you’ve had some enriching (albeit stressful) experiences since we saw you last.
This immense grief is an absolutely arresting phrase. Calls to mind all the grief I keep inside that I dig deeper and deeper ditches to throw it in. Whew!