Wednesday, November 16, 2011

studiOmnivorous is Deliciously Happy, and so are you!


Hi! I'm Megan! I'm a maker, do-er, and thinker here in Nashville, and today I'm guest-blogging about my part in Deliciously Happy.

A little bit of history: as a kid, one of my favorite memories was drawing sessions with my father. A casual cartoonist documenting his life in the military, at home, and with us, over pads of paper he encouraged in me a love of line and a deep appreciation for the individual story.

I think my willingness (or as my mom might say, "nosy-ness") to discover other people's stories is a big part of how I met Lindsey and how we began collaborating together on different projects. I love how well our work ties together: our mutual drive for a strong community emphasis within the arts is at the heart of what we do and what we get excited about...so when she told me about Play: Deliciously Happy, I couldn't wait to see how I could help out with the world she was building and how I could create a interactive component that would encourage on-site visitors and audiences to do more than just see art, but experience art.


Experiencing art is more than just looking and thinking: it's engaging with a piece in a way that creates memory and carries the chapter of that work into your own personal story. Maybe that's being hands-on, expressive, and making part of a piece yourself. Maybe that's finding a connection with the process behind a piece that helps you understand the artist and the art more. And maybe that's giving input to determine the direction of a piece that gives you ownership and a hand in the work.

When I make, I look for ways for art to incorporate those possibilities. My work continues to revolve around the ideas of shared/sharing narrative, the effects of personal history, and how both create, change, and harmonize our social place. To put it simply: Who are you? Who am I? And Who are WE together? As a result, I'm constantly intrigued by the stories other people have hidden inside of them, and about the community these stories create.


Where does my work come from? I write, I draw, I make and do, and I ask questions. I have the most fun when the work incorporates all of that. For example, earlier this year I facilitated Into The Ears Of Our Child, an interactive performance piece bringing the community into the making of a sculptural installation. That sounds fancy, but it was really simple and fun: participants who visited the gallery were encouraged to write their stories, advice, and empowerments to young women and men on banners of fabric.


What started out as a simple clothesline became an enormous, winding installation over the course of three months. From the clothesline rope itself to all of the fabric (and of course the words!), every item in the project had been donated from someone in the community! It was an exhibit that came together because of all of us, and so it belonged to all of us.


I met with other women artists, activists, and volunteers every few weeks to have a Work Session: we hung donated fabrics, moved banners around to keep the piece balanced, and had a dialogue about the words we were reading. This was just a courtesy, though: every time I came to the gallery (and I was there a lot!) someone had added something new or taken care of the piece. So many people contributed something special and meaningful: a vintage sash from a Vietnamese ao dai; a piece of a woman's military BDU she'd worn in Iraq; the ripped-up sheets from a woman who had just left an abusive marriage; cloud-covered fabric from a newborn's nursery window. So many stories!


The community really took ownership of the project, and I was grateful to be a part of their passion. When the exhibit closed, so many of the hands that had contributed to the piece came back to deinstall the exhibit as a community and help tie the banners into a long thread. Some of the fabric went home with people who had been especially touched by a message. Other pieces were sent to start new installations in homes and other cities. And the majority are becoming a huge quilt that I'm hand-stitching in order to best preserve the words everyone shared.


As I design the community section for Deliciously Happy, that experience is close in my mind. As Into The Ears of Our Child showed, taking art out of the box and into someone's hands creates meaning as well as art. Deliciously Happy is already so meaningful: the students, teachers, and artists involved in this project have already shared so much of themselves, expressing their own thoughts and creations in order to drive the work you'll see at Belmont in March. As I develop the community aspect for the gallery portion, I want to recreate that sense of sharing and bring it to you, our audience and friends. I hope you'll stay tuned as the project develops...and if you haven't already, consider donating to the project to help it move forward and bring all of the kids to see their hard work.

And of course, come visit us at the opening: I'll have something for you to do. =)

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