The truth is, I’m not at all sure what I’m doing right now. Like, existentially.
But I’m sure of one thing.
I am in desperate, decades-overdue need of a period of wild, exploratory, unstructured, creative play.
My signature move is to labor over a project for YEARS, and then unveil it upon completion. But I’m trying something new here…
Speaking of chaos – I’m letting you in on the “research” phase. 😳
I’m not sure what I’m at the beginning of, but the fact that you’re part of it feels VERY new. And it feels important in a metaphysical sort of way. Or…in a quantum observer effect kind of way. Or…in a tree-falls-in-the-middle-of-the-town-square kind of way. I have a little inkling that your witnessing of the back end could be significant, somehow. I just feel like I should tell you that.
So.
Last week, I mentioned that I’m working on a new art project…
Before the knee injury that has taken me OUT for the past 2.5 months, I was musing all around a resolution to spend this year in pursuit of a more senses-forward existence.
I want to invest as much time as possible in feeling, smelling, seeing, tasting, listening (like I said, “research”).
Many of my wildest plans and notions have had to take a back seat to this injury, but there is one project I feel I can manage…
On the surface, it’s an interior design project. But more…it’s an interior design project.
I love creating spaces, but I’ve never felt free to really express myself artistically, or to imbue my values onto a room.
It occurs to me that if I am really committed to living a more sense-forward life, a great place to begin is the place where I spend the highest percentage of my hours…the bedroom.
Probably because it’s the space least frequently seen by others, I’ve spent almost no energy creating beauty or meaning in this space. And that’s just backward, isn’t it? But it’s symbolic of such a systemic struggle for me.
My intention is to build our space (it’s Andrew’s too, of course) in a way that represents our values in the deepest way possible. I want the space to be wild and artful. I want to fill the space with as many handcrafted items as possible. I want to surround myself with ethically-sourced materials, whenever possible. I want the space to be warm and functional and inspiring. I’d love for it to feel like magic.
At some level, this is a conversation about capitalism and privilege (which is to say, I understand that not everyone has the luxury of thinking along these lines), but I think our humanity is diminished when we spend so much of our time in/on/around things that were created via pain, inequity, injustice. It’s an affront to our little mammalian souls. It’s a literal and symbolic barrier between our better natures and our ugliest ones.
It feels to me like it could be existentially VERY powerful to combat these noxious, ubiquitous indignities even just in one’s most-immediate environment. It gets me thinking about that old favorite quote again…
“The way you alchemize a soulless world is by treating everyone as if they are sacred until the sacred in them remembers.” – Rivka Grace Savitri
Everyone. Every…thing? The precious things. The living things.
So. As I said – it’s an interior design project. But it’s also the first step in a broader experiment.
I’m excited for show and tell.
For now, it’s just vibes.
Hey. I love ya.
Em
P.S. I’ve got a few more of these little things for you, if you’re into it…
Midnight Poem [Pome] to Dear Bekah:
How are you? How are all the boys?
You live with so many boys.
Midnight Poem [Pome] to Dear Olivia:
A new show on Netflix. Dropped today.
It’s like if Drunk History and Last Week Tonight had a threesome with Ken Burns.
OMG it’s a foursome with Borat.
Daytime Poem [Pome] to Dear Andrew:
When I offer to make miniature meat pies,
…this is the fantasy I’m trying to live in.
And it hurts my little woodland creature feelings if you don’t really care about my pie or lavender-infused lemonade.
Just be my Fantastic Mr. Fox (but not an action hero version, just a regular white-collar fox) and let me bake you pies in our little treehouse.
