7 Things Sunday

One. All I want for Christmas is 3 kittens and a bag of festive socks…

Two. I love lists and this is a really good one:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/art-therapy-techniques_56562017e4b072e9d1c19f9b

Three. I would like to introduce you to my labor of love as of late: the #KnowJustice Project. Between writing grants, researching, and planning out the implementation… this has been on my mind constantly. I. am. so. stoked. for. this. I probably won’t be around to see it happen, which is tough on the ol’ heartstrings. But I digress…

First of all, did you know that Iowa ranks #1 in the nation for over-incarcerating minority men? A 2014 ACLU report found that they are 8 times more likely (compared to a national average of 3.7) to be imprisioned than Caucasians for the same drug posession charges. Right now it feels like a day rarely passes that we don’t hear about police brutality, a school shooting, or racial profiling. These layered, complex issues involve cycles and systems that seem overwhelmingly hopeless of change. 

#KnowJustice aims to show youth entrenched in our judicial system that hope for them as individuals is not lost. We believe their life experiences and voices matter. At ArtForceIowa, we don’t stand in judgement of what they’ve done, but in awe of their creative potential (I am blown away by the kids I work regularly). #KnowJustice will give them the tools and opportunity to learn about their personal rights, contemplate their own participation in the justice system, and to respond creatively through art. Using art to elevate the voices of minority, court-involved youth, this project engages the public in a discourse around system disproportionality and the social injustices these youth face. The project has three components:

1. ArtForceIowa youth who are out of detention will participate in a series of workshops instructed by a group of Drake law students from the Children’s Rights Clinic. In an effort to ensure that youth today comprehend their personal rights, discussions will center around how to handle interactions with law enforcement, what it means to have free speech, and what their rights are at school and in detention. They will be encouraged to think critically and respond artistically, creating work reflective of what they learned in relation to their own experiences.
2. Youth residing in detention will be collaborating with local artist activists to explore, analyze, and strengthen the connections between personal rights, social activism, and artistic practice. The result will be a participatory visual art installation that is designed and conceptualized around the personal narratives of youth facing significant adverse experiences and systematic disproportionality.
3. In a society where a lot of tension exists around minority youth and the justice system, it is the youth involved who largely remain voiceless. In the media, it is not their stories, feelings, and thoughts heard. The #KnowJustice exhibit at Polk County Heritage Gallery will display the art installation and other work created by the youth at ArtForceIowa and the Polk County Juvenile Detention Center, giving them a public platform to express and voice their experiences. The exhibition will run for 6 weeks, giving the public an opportunity to better understand the challenges faced by this underrepresented, marginalized demographic. Throughout the exhibition, other special events will take place such as a poetry slam and public roundtable. 

Four. My friend Jacci posted this hilarious article about a sub Reddit feed where ‘Former Emo Kids Have Been Posting What They Look Like Now That They’ve Grown Up’. I don’t have much evidence of me in that phase thanks to DELL desktop computer crashses and the decline of Myspace, but I did find one picture. I think this is Andrew and I at a high school wrestling match when we were 15. He’s rocking a double popped collar and tiger stripe highlights. I’m wearing a Mewithoutyou band tee. I remember that night we went to Smokey Row, played Candyland and Tetris, and took pictures that we later edited on Windows Paint. LOL. 

And here we are almost 11 years later. Somehow still best friends. And I’ll have you know that hours after this picture was taken, we freaked out over Spotify adding The Spill Canvas’ old albums to their repitoire (yes, I have periodically checked ever since I opened an account).

Five. Friday night I danced, drank and delighted in the festiveness of Peace Tree’s Annual Holiday Sweater Party with Jaxine, my parents, and the friends we made in there (my favorite being Matt, in his ‘Fleece Navidad’ outfit). My professor/academic advisor at Grand View was playing in his band, The Monday Mourners. So that was fun. Woot woot.

 

Six. This is kind of old news, but I love the app PHHHOTO. Go download it. It does stuff like this:

Seven. I just finished reading Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert and it has got me all fired up about creativity. I think 2016 is going to be a year of big magic that I make for myself, if nothing else.

“Stop complaining. Every time you talk about how difficult and tiresome it is to be creative, your inspiration takes another step away from you, offended. I started telling myself that I enjoyed my work. I proclaimed that I enjoyed every single aspect of my creative endeavours- the agony and the ecstasy, the success and the failure, the joy and the embarrassment, the dry spells and the grind…It is not about how you write, or paint, or play… it is about why: because of delight. You must live your most creative life as a means of fighting back against the ruthless furnace of this world.”

Love,

Taylor

7 Things Sunday

One. Everybody, this is Evan. He is the most adorable wee Scottish lad I have ever met. I mentioned to his auntie that I missed hearing him come into the coffee shop saying, “Tay Tay!”…and then she sent me this. Be still my heart. Waaaahhhhhhh. I want to go back.

 

Two. This week was ArtForceIowa’s Holiday Hustle (I’m so good at naming things, you guys). The youths performed Christmas tunes, gave our visitors tours of the space, sold cards and shirts they designed and made, and exhibited paintings. Several sold their first paintings ever and were so proud! It was adorable. Cookies and hot chocolate were consumed. Snowmen were drawn. Holiday cheer all around.

When I got home my sweet, elderly housemate Norm asked me, “Do you feel like you can be yourself at work?” I love this guy. Who asks that? I laughed and said, “I do! It doesn’t feel like a typical workplace. I get to work with people I consider friends and everyone is very encouraging of being yourself.” And then my heart kind of exploded at the sound of my own words. ArtForce has been such a good family to come home to. I am one lucky lady.

Three. BUT my time at ArtForce is wrapping up. Well, at least my paid time. In January I will be very unemployed, which feels simultaneously like a world of possibility and world of unfortunate impossibilty. But perhaps there are friends out there sprinkled across the US of A who think “Hey, Taylor should come stay with me/us while she looks for a job in this new, exciting place.” Or perhaps not. But you never know unless you ask. So, if you’re such a friend, call me/beep me sometime. I can compensate for hopsitality with a variety of domestic and creative endeavors.

I’ve also been contemplating just working any job that will give me loads of overtime for the next 6 months and saving up to spend the summer back in Edinburgh where I can work the festival, travel, attend my MA graduation, and hang out with the people I miss so soooo much.

#dreamingandscheming

Four. I’m excited for this:

http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/wireStory/mike-birbiglia-man-show-winter-35560500

If you’ve never watched Mike Birbiglia: My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend on Netflix, I recommend it. At least until you get to the part about The Scrambler. Trust me.

Five. Yesterday I was enjoying a cup of coffee, like I do every morning. I’d probably drank half of it when I got this really bad side pain. I excused myself to the bathroom and suddenly felt my face burning. I caught myself in the mirror and BOOM. It looked (and felt) like I had suddenly developed severe sunburn all over my face. Then it spread. My neck, arms, and legs broke out into hives. The backs of my knees were swelling up. I was itchy and hot everywhere. My dad ran to the store for Benadryl. Bless him. And all was fine. But apparently we had started on a new bag of coffee that I had never had before.

So, please do not ever offer me Hills Bros. coffee. I am just thankful I didn’t randomly develop a caffeine or coffee allergy in general. That would make my life so sad and tired. But out of curiosity, does anyone know what could have caused this? I drink coffee…all kinds of coffee…alllll the time. I’ve never had this happen before.

Six. Awhile back my grandmother went through a break-up…so-to-speak. There was a man I called her “companion”. That was the most accurate description I could think of. Calling him her boyfriend felt weird. But they had been doing life together for as long as I can remember. When they stopped, I remember driving in the car with my grandma and she told me, “The other day I was sitting in Jester Park and I saw this deer. Just beautiful. We used to always go and watch the animals there together. I just wanted to pick up the phone and call him but I knew I shouldn’t do that. It’s just hard to change those habits.”

And as she said this, I felt something in my brain move. As if I could feel my own perspective widening. Here was this 70-something year old woman. My grandmother. She was describing her own feelings and life situation. And at the time, they were exactly the same as mine.We were going through the same thing. All of the sudden the 50 year age difference didn’t make any difference at all.

I have also found myself in pretty transparent conversations recently with middle aged women I adore. I feel like I have a lot of moms, which is great. They bring me a lot of joy. And honesty. They’ve opened up about grief, marriage, changes that happen with having adult children, hopes, faith, crises…the whole shebang.

And then when I stay at the Catholic Worker House, two of my house mates are guys in their 60s. And they’ve become dear friends who I admire deeply. Their life stories are already so incredible and they’re still living them. My boss is in his 30s and has an elderly lady friend that he regularly meets up with for oysters and champagne. He says they’ll sit and talk for hours every time. How fabulous is that!?

I don’t know…it’s all just got me thinking about how rare inter-generational living is in America compared to other places. It’s kind of a shame. You learn so much from people of all ages and you can develop wonderful friendships, too. Ones that give you wisdom and preparation for the roads ahead of you. All I know is that my life has felt much richer lately because I find myself spending quality time with people outside my own age range.

Seven. There’s a fascinating exhibition at the Des Moines Art Center. Go check it out and/or read about it here:

http://www.desmoinesartcenter.org/exhibitions/laurel-nakadate

Love,

Taylor

Day Dreaming

There’s a little voice in the back of my head that tells me I won’t make it to graduate school this fall. It’s only a few months away and I’m doing everything in my power to make it happen. I realize if it doesn’t, the world won’t stop and my life won’t be over but it would feel like failure. I mean, the only thing standing in my way is having enough $$$$. What else is new? But I’ve been thinking about why I want to go. And I’ve been writing about my dreams. And regardless of whether I have a MA or not, I just hope the dream part works out. Even if just an aspect of it works out, I would be one happy girl because I recognize that most of the time our dreams change, evolve, and become extensions of other dreams. And that’s cool. 

In my years as a studio arts student, I came to some important realizations about myself. One was that even though I posses the qualities most people might associate with an artist; visionary, creative, intuitive, and passionate, I’m also very organized, detail oriented, and a planner. In school, even though I loved to paint and talk about my work, I was just as (if not more) interested in the work of my peers. I love to encourage creative pursuits and ask questions. I want to plan things that happen. I want to make spaces that house artistic ambitions. That is why I’m pursuing graduate school in a field that combines the arts and administration.

My dream/goal/ambition is to one day run a studio-ish space. In my head, I picture it in an under-resourced urban area, but why put limitations on dreams, right? As long as people are benefitting from it. I want it to provide opportunities and support for people who want to be creative- whatever that looks like for them. When I say “people”, I literally mean anyone and everyone. People with disabilities, grandmas, the homeless, refugees, toddlers, college students etc. I have seen the power art has to build and transform community. We live in a day and age where art programs continue to get cut from school budgets and the general population is always in front of screen. *Sigh* I want this dream space to promote creative outreaches within a community, fostering and celebrating what happens when we work together to make something that brings new life to a place. I want to encourage people of all backgrounds, cultures, ages, etc. to learn from each other, try something new, create and discover how therapeutic art can be. Ideally, I would love for every art medium usable to be available in some capacity. I want there to be a room where dancers can perform, a stage where poetry can be slammed and music can be played, and I want the coffee and tea pots to always be going. I want there to be big artists mentoring little artists. I want there to be a gallery and exhibitions. That might sound a tad overly-encompassing and lofty. Maybe one day, years from now, I’ll read this and shake my head at my naivety. By why crush it with self-doubt now? At the right time and with the right people, it could/will happen.

Holding my breath.

Love,

Taylor

 

 

 

On Break(throughs)

I just need a breakthrough.

I keep telling myself this.

I need a breakthrough at work, where a barrier crumbles and I’m let in. I’m allowed to swim through the tormented, beautiful minds. Where I’m listened to and asked to listen.

I need a breakthrough in my creativity, where it suddenly ignites as if I were a human sparkler.

I need a breakthrough in friendships, where the awkwardness goes away. Where I don’t feel less than because of the newly missing half.

I need a breakthrough in church or spirituality, where prayer isn’t a homework assignment, but happens with people organically and in the moment. Where there is time for honest questions and room for silence.

I need a breakthrough in therapy, where I learn how to gauge whether I’m doing something caring for someone else or if I’m actually doing it for me (which, for the record, is way harder than you might think). Where I figure out how parts of my personality and character make me wonderfully amazing and wonderfully unhealthy at the same time. Where I figure out how to let go, unclench my fists and foster some sort of pioneering spirit that pushes me forward into God knows what.

Break:

separate or cause to separate into pieces as a result of a blow, shock or strain

to lacerate; to wound

to put an end to; overcome; stop

to interrupt the regularity, uniformity, or arrangement of

I’m in the process of breaking. In some moments I feel completely broken. We’ve all been there, right? There’s that overly-pinned Leonard Cohen lyric about how cracks are what lets the light in. It’s true, though. Breakthroughs must be like that- never one single break, but rather gradual shifts…tiny cracks that reveal or expose what was once unseen and intangible. And it’s an active process. To continue breaking is an option I will always have. It’s the “through” part that I have trouble committing to. That part is scary. That means I have to find the flaw and see through it. It means that I some point, in order to get anywhere, I have to shift my actions to a forward and through direction.

It means I have to take a break from the internal mind chatter that doesn’t actually benefit me. It means I have to finds ways to make use of the time I spent devoted to all these old habits and ways of thinking. And it means I must stay mindful of all thee above.

While breaking is unpleasant and disorienting, I realize that when we break…newness and freshness floods in. It’s different, but it doesn’t have to be scary. I can lean into that. I can embrace the pain of the cracking if it means I’m breaking for a good sob and surrender. For the most raw and pure form of faith. For new adventures and relationships. For the breathlessness of anticipation. For discovering that I’m capable of this. For sunflowers and sweaty yoga mats. For new eyes and a wiser heart. I can break for those things. 

Away with the notion that breaking is about isolation, gross imperfection, and all things depressing.

Usher in the truth that breaking is about movement, growth, and light. God is in the beauty, sacredness, and humble gratification of the breaking.

Love,

Taylor

A Look Back

I was reading through some writings from my time doing art therapy in Uganda and this one particularly stuck out to me this morning:

Each girl has a few minutes to draw whatever she would like. After a while, Megan and I asked them to close their eyes. With eyes closed, Megan and I took black markers and drew some sort of line on their drawing. Essentially, we messed up their pretty little pictures. After we let them express their shock and disappointment, we challenged them to make the black mark a part of their drawing. Turn it into something. Don’t let it ruin the picture, but instead think of it as an opportunity to create something new or different.

And just like that the black lines went from being dark, obstructive, and out of place to being jump ropes, snakes, mountains, gardens, boats, hearts, etc.

Sometimes in life someone or something comes along and messes up your picture. You weren’t ready for it. Your eyes were closed. Maybe you opened up your eyes only to see that someone abducted you at 14 years old and now you’re forced into killing people with your bare hands. Maybe you opened your eyes only to see that your spouse cheated on you and ran off with all your money. Maybe you opened your eyes only to see your house burning in a forest fire. Maybe you opened your eyes only to see that the dream you were chasing is never going to be a reality. Black marks look different for everyone, but they invade all of our pictures from time to time. A lot of people let black marks define their pictures. But, like we told the girls, “You and God in you are capable of making something good and beautiful come from something that once seemed dark and horrible.”

A friend recently told me, “God doesn’t eliminate evil. We don’t really see evidence of that. He transforms it.”

God doesn’t give or use erasers, He’s more creative than that.

I don’t know about some of you, but I’ve got lots of black marks in my picture right now. I feel like all I can do is pray and hold onto my marker. Challenge accepted.

Love,

Taylor