Making art in protest
and regulating my nervous system.
When I was in my early teen years a magazine was delivered to our house. My mother had probably donated to this organization before but this was the first time I recall really seeing the images.
On the front cover and through out the magazine were pictures of children in Sudan with bloated bellies, sunken eyes surrounded by flies, and limbs whose skin had been stretched so thin over the bones.
These children were starving. I was disturbed for days. I kept staring at the pictures wondering what I could do to help them survive. I went to my mom, asking her advice-showing her the photos and still wondering how I, a teenage girl in Vermont, could do something.
The organization of the magazine was hosting a fundraiser- The 30 hour Famine. I signed up and was able to convince a handful of friends from my youth group to join me. The whole concept was to go without food (we could have water and juice) for 30 hours. Before the event we went to local businesses and asked for them to pledge a donation that we would then collect later once we had completed the 30 hours.
I don’t remember how much money we raised but what stuck with me was that I believed I was a part of a greater whole working towards a solution. Maybe that was true, maybe not. I won’t know if the amount of money I assisted in raising saved a life or two. I hope so is what I tell myself.
Fast forward 20+ years later, it is in the middle of a New Hampshire snowstorm, and I am hugging my 7 year old just a little bit tighter as he calms his body for sleep. He does not know what has happened-again.
Tears wet his pillow. They are my silent tears because of the continued horrors that are happening to people in the United States. Sorrow for the children separated from parents. Children being used as bait against their families. Another murder. Another abduction.
I hug a little tighter because I do not know if I am doing enough to raise a human that doesn’t judge another human based on skin color, language, sexual orientation, who they love, how they love, name or immigration status.
Maybe it is enough.
That teenage girl that was disturbed by the images I saw in the magazine is still me. I want to be part of a solution. I want to protest, a bit out of rage but rage keeps me dysregulated and then fatigued so I found a way to protest that I could sustain.
I made a sculpture.
"Out with Lanterns Looking for Myself" not only an art object but a source of light. The sculpture asks: what does it mean for something to hold shelter softly illuminate all at the same time Nest-like form appearing from paper mache. a gesture containment, and protection Black from handmade charcoal glitter inside is a hidden sky scattering light in quiet radiance Honorable harvest Decay offered as life pine fragrance fills the room light has a scent wild & gentle a carefully brought home treasure
I recycled old art into protest postcards that I am sending daily to my Representatives and Senators. You can see that I am cutting up a portrait I did on paper and am reusing the back side to write my message; this feels like a better use of a practice painting that just chucking it out.
Hope you are finding ways to express how to you are feeling and regulating your nervous system.
🔔 Let’s keep making things together, I’ll connect with you again soon!