making space

making space

“start where you are, use what you have, do what you can.”

-arthur ashe

I looked up from the work table last week and suddenly it’s November. I feel like the last ten months have passed without much notice on my end, each day rolling into the next like a train changing tracks. There were significant moments: birthdays, construction projects, weddings, show openings… you know, the BIG STUFF. There are missing bits of time and memory that have gone without account. I am grieving little things like sunrises and sunsets, shared stories and cups of coffee, silent togetherness and the hard-earned exhaustion of a job well done. 

We’ve slipped into a different timestream. In this new reality everything takes significantly longer than anticipated, requiring immense stamina to complete even the smallest task. As we lose hours, days, and months, time folds and stretches around us, constantly vanishing into the proverbial junk drawer of an aging bachelor farmer. 

Since things took off for Paradise Home in 2018, there have been so many lessons. Business stuff, studio practice, personal growth, community engagement (shows, talks, and workshops.) At the beginning of all this, I remember writing a business plan. “Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” I had no idea I would overshot every goal I set for myself. With Mark’s tremendous support and encouragement, I’ve thrown myself fully into making. Through the George Floyd uprisings and pandemic, my studio practice sustained me financially and emotionally while helping to process everything I witnessed. I will be forever grateful for this precious gift. Now it’s time to make space for  other creatives (especially black, queer and indigenous creatives) to explore studio practice in an artist-centered environment. 

Here’s our new-to-us door frame. I helped get it into position, and this is the most significant physical contribution I have made to the project so far. Mark has been building this thing mostly by hand, with a little help from our friends and family, and not very much from me. Don’t worry, I’m apparently going to learn how to install drywall and tile very soon, if he doesn’t fire me from the site first.

Our big lift this year is building an artist residency from scratch. Over the last 7 months, Mark has been renovating the houses next door, preparing to welcome life back into homes that have been abandoned for at least a decade. One house for our dear friend and collaborator, and one house for the makespace: an ADA-accessible artist cottage where residencies and retreats will be offered to visual artists, musicians, writers, dreamers, philosophers, and all manner of creators. The cottage is nestled in the trees and beneath the sky, perfectly situated as an invitation to witness and to wonder, to tinker and to make.

Constructing the makespace has been an active part of our daily lives, and the ongoing process is something to behold. The supply chain and logistics nightmares of the pandemic also echoed on the administrative end of the project so our timeline and budget have expanded beyond our initial expectations. From what I’m seeing from others navigating codes and permits, it might just be the way it is. But when it comes to making it happen, Detroit elder-dreamers showed me something important: If you are willing, there is always a way forward. So here’s what we’re gonna do. to make a way for the makespace, I’ll be offering fiber works at a discounted rate for two days.

Friday will be by appointment for folks who have a piece in mind to purchase and are ready to support the makespace. All scheduled sales on Friday will be eligible for 20% off the list prices. Saturday will be an in-person open-studio from 9-5, and folks are welcome to sign up for a slot to view the works in context at my home studio. All sales on Saturday will be at 15% off list prices.  All visitors must sign up for a slot, and 5 folks will be allowed in at a time. Anyone attending the open studio sale must wear a mask.

See y’all soon!

Here is your first peek at the interior of our 100 year old mother-in-law cottage. Look at all that light (and dust!) Does she have good bones? Do we need a chandelier?