The Wonder in the Wander, 2021
Thank you to the New Malrborough Village Association for hosting this show and thank you to Jacob Fossum and Nicole Irene for curating The Wonder in the Wander.
About
In November of 2019 I was left with no option but to wander. With lumbar and cervical herniated discs and radiating bilateral arm and leg nerve pain, my own two feet carried me out of the life I knew into one of pain where to exorcise that pain meant to walk. I paced to the freezer for ice packs and back again. I paced while talking to friends and waiting for doctor appointments. I paced while brushing my teeth and eating meals. And I paced while waiting for sleep to welcome me and in the middle of the night again. Suddenly I was a nomad in my own life.
As my usual ways of creating became untenable, I slipped away from the person I knew without a way to express and process this forced upheaval. On a snowy winter day, I circled through the studio, bound with ice packs and joint braces, and stocked my pockets with water-soluble drawing materials. Using the snow gathered on the tops of trash cans and benches as water, I painted on small pieces of paper as I walked around downtown Stockbridge, circling back through the studio to exchange tools and paper. In finally having a way to wander with myself again, relief burst from the bitterness that had built in passing by—or having been passed by—everything and everybody I loved. And from that, grief swelled. I wondered if I’d ever be able to use my hands again (I did). I wondered if I’d regain a sense of normalcy (I didn’t). With the help of a mentor, we taped large papers to the floor of the studio and I used my feet—my feet that had carried me through and away from myself—back towards the heart of my work and my desire to uncover veiled truths and study conflicts. I let my feet leave tracks and within the hurt and ambivalence I found things I had lost track of: longing, love, bravery, and resilience.
Wandering, and the primal intuition to do so, can be an unsticking point when we find ourselves in the tense liminal space between old perspectives and new integration; these pieces were made at the edges of breaking and study the process of recovering a sense of belonging. If we walk with humility and courage, these paths we circle begin to fill in with meaning, purpose, direction, and desire. And when we are led astray—especially when we are led astray—if we follow ourselves through the questions and doubts, we can regain a sense of belonging to our journey and love it as our own.
