Breathing room

I've been toying with the idea of continuing to use this blog space as an active thought repository for a while now. For some reason, the idea of doing so has felt off-limits. It was my post-grad workspace, and a core part of the assessments for both Hons and MFA on a practical level, and the idea of reviving it felt a bit like attending an awkward high-school reunion or returning to a former home. But, in the end, it is my blog, and this is my online space, and I ultimately need a place to write.

Life has been a bit of a mixed bag since finishing my MFA. Three-quarters of the way through my Hons degree, I found out about a major health scare — a routine pap smear was flagged as "highly risk", and further tests revealed a growing site of well-established, abnormal cells, which through a series of biopsies and operations took the better part of 10 months to fully resolve. From the following February onwards, two weeks into our MFA schedule, I was hit with a barrage of physical symptoms of unknown origin, which heavily impacted my ability to engage with post-grad study, and ultimately turned out to be caused by a rare autoimmune disease: Microscopic Polyangiitis. In essence, my immune system is doing its very best to destroy my body's small blood vessels (which is bit rude really, considering I kind of need those). If one imagines the body's aorta as a tree trunk and its capillaries are the smallest, most fragile of new-growth twigs, the branches that those twigs stem from are akin to its small blood vessels. Most abundant in our skin, lungs, kidneys, intestines, corneas, mucus membranes, and brain, and responsible for supplying oxygen to the peripheral nervous system. Just the minor stuff, really.

Thank god for Timothy Morton and interconnected ecology and all the weird and wonderful related concepts I began exploring throughout post-grad. Were it not for that and being an artist with a practice already aligned to tackle this kind of subject matter, I don't think I'd be handling it anywhere near as well as I am — which in all honesty, is still not wonderfully.

Now almost 2 years on from beginning immunotherapy treatment, things are thankfully tracking towards remission. However, 2024 was more or less a write-off. A necessary period of rest, but still, an absolute write-off. I'm grateful to the people who get it, and to those who remind me that it was necessary — and following a masters degree, a somewhat normal experience it seems —, but I'd be lying if I said I haven't felt guilty about the sudden halt in momentum after the frenetic pace of 2023's MFA. But guilt doesn't do much and all bodies need rest, and that energy can be spent on far better things. For better or worse, I'm an artist.

I'm an artist.

I'm an artist.

I'm an artist.

So, what now? Life still feels uncertain. I have no way of knowing what direction my health will go in future. Though realistically, who does? Through the encouragement of Yuka and Tristian at Public Record this past May, I was lucky enough to take part in a group show at Silo 6, which reminded me just how alive this whole messy, wonderful, creative venture makes me feel when I'm in the thick of it. It really is baked in on a cellular level at this point, and as much as I sometimes forget who I am, that glowing, molten, polar core at the centre of my being will always remain.

I recently moved into a new living space with another creative, and with a small shed in the backyard that we are converting into a studio space for the two of us. Community was always something our mentors at Whitecliffe stressed that we take to heart, and I'm starting to fully appreciate why, and just how integral it is to our wellbeing as artists.

If you are reading this as a current student, which I assume is how most people find this blog, take it on board. We can't do this alone. Things get weird in isolation.

I am doing my best to shake off the self-consciousness of the past few years and engage with my community more and more — volunteering, making time for gallery visits and workshops, keeping up with artist friends and talks, and generally reading and writing and talking more about it all. And of course, reacquainting myself with my practice — which right now involves re-mining this blog, throwing myself into non-photography image- and print-making projects, and an overall sickening curiosity about the world around me. I have a couple of ambitious projects in mind for the next few years, as well as a current 10-week workshop and a couple of proposals to work on, and it's nice to finally have the energy to feel excited about them.

As Noel once told us in one of our many seminar workshops: you have to find your why. You have to care. Take yourself seriously. Find the thing that turns you on, and pour yourself into it.

It's working...