“For the new year, I spent my first three weeks of January as an Artist in Residence at SPACE Gallery, upstairs in their residency room. This was my second time being awarded this residency after applying for their BIPOC Rent Free Studio + Residency Program in 2022, and again in the Fall of 2024. I feel so grateful to have been selected for a second year, and what a special thing it is to be able to return to a place.”
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“Something that I am noticing in my life is the ways that our society and systems speed us along. And I’m noticing how I long to slow down. That longing comes from the desire to feel more intentional, fulfilled by presence, and to add a sense of awe, preciousness, and sacredness to my life as much as I can. I want to be careful with my time. Careful in a way that is not fearful or scarce, but careful as in adding in more love, adding in more romance, creating attention, creating beauty, reverence, and joy. I think if life can even be filled a little more than half with those things, life can be pretty good. Even when it’s bad, if those pieces can ground me, I’ll always find my way back.”
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“I am asking myself what do I want more of in my life?
What do I want less? What do I need to let go of?
What will I carry with me into my new year?
What will I try to work into my life for the better?”
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“I'm so grateful to have been able to spend three-weeks working out of one of the Residency Rooms at SPACE Gallery in Portland, ME. I was awarded this residency after applying for the Rent Free Studio Space for BIPOC Artists in the Fall of 2022. While I did not receive the studio space, I was offered this residency with my choice of dates.”
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“As I move into this new year, I am asking myself: what practices do I want to maintain? What do I value in my art practice? What do I want my life to look like? What do I want to work on or build towards? What routines work for me? What do I want to let go of?”
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“So this is an ode to my first ever studio space. It holds so many memories, so much love. Nights looking out at the stars or watching the sunset, all my tears and sadness the first year after my mom died, so much artwork that act like markers of time. It will always be a reminder of the day I set down this path, and a reminder that so much can change and no matter what, I will keep creating.”
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“I think about my time at Haystack everyday since I've been home.
I think about moments of solace and reflection.
Swimming in the ocean, the shell-shard-sand that looked like little landscapes in slabs of stone.
Nights in the studio, the sound of rain.
The leaves of the trees illuminated through the windows by the light of the studio.
My hands stained blue.
Shifting skies. Fireflies in the tall grass on the trail to the water.
Feeling scared and then the feeling when it leaves you.
My darkness turning to light.”
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“In the beginning I wrote that I had never kept up with my sketchbooks so consistently and for so long. Admittedly, I still feel scared and like I'm not changing, not progressing, not growing. And yet, I look at that fat stack of sketchbooks, full of ideas, writings, literal scribbles, and also beautiful sketches, and I see pursuit, I see determination, and find my self wondering why was I scared at all? I have so much to feel proud of, and my art will always remind me that i'm "here" and the more I make the more I will see where I've been and where I want to go.”
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