space

Space.

 

 

This is my go to excuse. Either I can’t afford it, I can’t carve it out in my schedule, I can’t make room in my brain for it, or it seems like that one thing, the something ever out of grasp, and if I could just wrap my arms around it and hold it tightly to my chest, I would have everything I needed.

I am in my mid twenties and all I can feel is my mortality. All I can see are the cause and effect of my choices, whether the choice is to sleep in or to cry alone in my car during my commute. Every choice I make is traded for in my most precious resource, time.

 

The last month (or so…) I used space as my excuse. I needed to take some space from this whole ordeal. A break, just when it seemed like I was gaining some sort of “momentum”. Where I could actually answer the question, “So what are you working on?” with more than a shoulder shrug.

Yet, I needed the space, the vastness to give myself room to figure out what exactly I should choose to do with my life.

My problem is that I know exactly what I want, I am just scared to choose it. I am just unspeakably afraid to fail. Realistically, I know that even if I fail, I will still be able to take care of myself financially, I am resilient in that area, just afraid of the vulnerability of art making, of trying, of following my heart.

For our upcoming residency with SAFEhouse Arts we are exploring the panic involved in filling the spaces in our lives. How does it feel when the expectations of “Life in Your 20’s” get pressed up hard against what is actually happening in day to day life. What happens when your dreams keep morphing to something unrecognizable as you start to wear your “reality goggles” full time. What do we put in the empty spaces in our lives that once held all of our dreams.

Do you remember what you wanted to be when you grew up?


 

What are you working on?

“…Oh, not too much, right now I am just taking a little space.”