Virus No. 1: The Conversation We Need To Have

More Than Six Feet Apart.

This is the first art related essay I’ve written since the complete reopening of Florida. Kinda sorta post pandemic, but not really post anything because at this moment I know someone who is in a hospital ICU struggling with Covid. Not so post pandemic after all. I’ve not felt as troubled about Covid-19 and the variants (though this is horrifically troubling) as I have been about who we’ve become as disgruntled, reluctant, and resistant hermits. During the height of the pandemic, between baking bread, sidewalk chalk drawings, and at home workouts we’ve had too much time to find new things to separate us. We’ve been creative in creating new hurdles for each of us to jump over to prove we are (and I cringe inwardly and outwardly as I write this) ‘woke’. I really hate that word now. Unfortunately for all our newfound ‘understanding’ and additional ‘respect’ of each other, we all seem to talk and truly connect less. I guess it’s because we all know each other so well? Probably not though.

The fear that I have now is of a world where learning how to use chopsticks, lighting incense, doing yoga, and learning how to wrap your head might be characterized at misappropriation where at one point it was seen as making an attempt to understand and experience another culture. I digress though. We need a drum circle and an exorcism to get through a full conversation on race and culture.

The Hardest Art Description I’ve Ever Had to Write…

This is by far one of the hardest work reflection/summaries I’ve ever had to write.

To say that racism is difficult to discuss is an understatement. I personally believe it is even more difficult to discuss among various minorities that may encounter racism. Unfortunately one aspect of racism that isn’t often discussed is the racism that some minorities inflict upon other minorities. I can only speak about my personal experiences but I can also say that most of these issues are universal.

When we address racism and other discrimination we often do it in pieces. We have to remember that those of European heritage/white people aren’t the only individuals that commit acts of harmful racism; even though those acts of racism have had long lasting effects and are pervasive, they aren’t unique in their nature.

We all believe harmful, racist, discriminatory untruths about each other. We have all ingested and digested this racism. But do we perpetuate the stereotypes, the hurt, and strain? Or do we, community to community, work together to find solutions and common ground?

A Different Kind of Tower of Babel.

My concern about how we interact as humans at the moment leaves us in either an echo chamber or an individual silo. Addressing these individual untruths as unique, independent, and seemingly separate issues (Asian and Jewish hate crimes, African Americans experiences with police brutality and the justice system, church and mosque shootings for example) will end up leaving us where we all started: segregated. We must address racism as the cancer it is: You don’t remove it one piece at a time, you cut it all out. If we don’t focus on what unifies all of these challenging issues none of us will truly be communicating. Finding solutions that could positively affect us all will become an impossibility.

The pandemic year has among its highlights some of the most horrible acts of racism.These acts among other things are what inspired Virus No. 1: The Conversation We Need To Have. This piece - a 3-dimensional wooden unicorn puzzle- addresses particularly painful racist encounters that I hadn’t discussed with many people concerning my time in San Francisco. Recently, I ended up in a conversation with two other women, also of minority backgrounds: Filipino-American (Lissette), Mexican-American (Eve) where I discussed these experiences. Until my conversation with these two women I didn’t realize how traumatic this time in my life had been.

Trauma From An Unexpected Place.

A number of years ago, pre-pandemic in San Francisco I spent most of my time looking for affordable housing (otherwise known as homeless) I went to many properties shown to me by people of many different backgrounds. I noticed that each time I was shown a property by someone of Chinese descent there was an attempt to convince me I either didn’t want the space or I was told that it had already been rented right after I was shown the apartment. Another experience involved my mother and I walking through Chinatown. My Mom was hot and a little dehydrated. We stopped in a restaurant to get her some water. We were ignored. We went into another place and no one would serve us. After we found my Mom water and shelter from the heat, I was troubled by a huge ‘what if’. What if my Mom had passed out? Who would’ve helped us in Chinatown, if anyone? Eve talked about how as a very light complexioned Mexican American she was often mistaken for white. Two things often happened to her, she said: white people spoke with her in a disparaging way about other minorities and she was often told by other Mexicans she wasn’t ‘Mexican (or dark) enough’. Lissette spoke to us about her strained relationship with her parents because of derogatory views they’d expressed about other people of color.

As humans we have such a long way to go in an effort to evolve to become better humans. The key is to at least begin the journey down that long road by talking to one another and having tough conversations. Racism to me is the first and most pervasive human virus and no one really seems to be working on a vaccine.

Art Changes Things...

An Art Endeavor

The Aesop Project started as an art endeavor I was working on with a group of artists I’d worked with in the past. The Republican National Convention was on its way to Jacksonville. One of the artists I’d worked with previously called me up and said she felt like we needed to do something; something to present Jacksonville artists to the world. She was hoping to use the spotlight that would be shined on Jacksonville to showcase us as artists. I agreed but added that the political nature of the timing couldn’t be escaped. I didn’t want us to squander an opportunity to speak up on several important cultural, civil rights, and human rights moments that had taken place over not just the past year but spanning the entirety of the Trump administration (and further back honestly). I felt we should speak on these issues specifically and not generalize and coalesce into a unity/kumbaya moment. Not that there is no place for it, but it is simply wasn’t the right time. It is because America has eschewed discussing the difficult things, talking around race and other important topics, I believe that we are where we are right now.

…art changes things is my point. It not only changes spaces and surfaces but it also changes perspectives, mindsets, and relationships.

To make a very long and overly dramatic story short, the rest of the group disagreed and in the most disrespectful of ways. I thought it ironic considering they wanted a show of unity. Sad. Considering at that point I’d already shared a number of my project ideas with the group.

Still Compelled

Though a little salty, I still felt compelled to continue forward to complete a project that spoke to current events. I still wanted to work collaboratively with an art crew, so I reached out to other art friends whose work and ideas I’d loved over the years but hadn’t had or created the opportunity to work together and a few folks said yes. Some felt, I’m guessing, that to create artwork in this way would be too political, polarizing, or negative. I didn’t take their desire to not participate personally, simply a manifestation of the culture we live in. People are so often ostracized for their personal opinions; right, wrong, or indifferent. I understood. None of those designations really matter though. To stand up and use your voice for what is right is never a comfortable position. This election is like no other I’ve ever seen. There is no sitting on a fence this time. There is no decision not to participate. We are in a fight for our democracy. This isn’t about politics at all.

My biggest reason for facilitating this collaborative project is because I truly believe that art changes things. I believe that when artists approach a problem or concern they see things from such a unique perspective.

This project to me and the way I have chosen to disseminate the message isn’t about speaking in an echo chamber with those I know who already agree with me, it is about reaching out to those who may be looking at things with an obscured viewpoint.

Dissemination Is The Way

The ways I’ve chosen to share what Aesop has created:

• Asking people to share the first video of a video diptych, I Can’t Believe This Is Happening with their friends, family, and network.

• Projecting I Can’t Believe This Is Happening on abandoned and dilapidated structures (intentionally symbolic of how we’ve abandoned who we say we are as Americans) also changing these spaces where we project the video with art. Which is also kind of my thing.

• Live-streaming I Can’t Believe This Is Happening on Facebook and Instagram

• Asking others to join the movement to not only vote in this election but to be more engaged civically and as humans.

There are other things I’m doing as well, but I digress, art changes things is my point. It not only changes spaces and surfaces but it also changes perspectives, mindsets, and relationships.

See for Yourself

Take a look at “I Can’t Believe This Is Happening”

This Year Let’s Be Different. P.S. Don’t Be Like This Guy. He’s An Ass.

I’ll Start Here.

The year or so I’ve been working on a community art project. A mural.

It has been a passion project. My desire is to see art in places where it isn’t. That is what has carried me forward: seeing it done.

Working as a community advocate has been surprising. A sad sort of surprising in some ways. Support has come from expected and unexpected places. Turbulence came from mostly unexpected places. I don’t usually focus on an expectation for negativity.

Not that I haven’t been doing this work for a while, I have. It’s just in the process of community building I received some unwanted gifts: sexism, racism, disrespect, and this past week as the mural culminated with it’s magical manifestation on a wall over five days…straight up insanity.

The past week and a half has been met mostly with folks appreciating the mural. This mural, the first of its kind in this neighborhood, was welcomed with people honking car horns in appreciation, people stopping by to say hello and say thank you. So positive!

Because the Universe is mostly balanced, there is Yin and Yang where there is positive there must always be the opposite in balance. There has been a whole cast of characters; mostly sane and positive. Then there were just a couple punks. That’s where the guy in the picture with the two kids comes along.

Douche Baggery.

One of the days I’d left the art site to run errands, the artist painting the mural shared a little about a man that stopped by and attempted to woo her with his ‘charisma’. That’s sarcasm by the way. He told her he was from New York- as if that was an indicator of his worldliness or worthiness- and that because of the brand of cigarettes she smoked he definitely new she would be interested in him. I know. Gross. I was apologetic, but happy that this type of harassment hadn’t been a consistent and unwelcome occurrence during her time painting the mural.

Fast forward to the last day on site and the mural artist is putting on the finishing touches our guy in the picture stops by, we will refer to him as Potter’s House (I’ll share why later). Potter’s House gets out of his vehicle with two adorable little girls in tow. He expresses his appreciation for the mural. Tells me that one of the little girls is an artist. I said awesome and that it was one of the best reasons to stop. To give a little artist encouragement. I told them I could take a picture of them in front of the mural. I introduced myself and we shook hands. He told me I had the handshake of a married woman. Ummm…what? What is the handshake of a married woman? I’ve never heard of such a thing or such a sad pickup line…I guess? My response was that it was the handshake of a strong and independent woman and artist. No marriage needed.

If this is where you think one might insert some witty banter about marriage and relationships, I’d agree with you but then we’d both be wrong. That’s where this douche proceeds to try and tell me that “the strong and independent African-American woman is the reason the African-American communities are falling apart.” His words not mine. That women need “to be concerned with taking care of a family…” Insert a raised eyebrow here. He follows this up with saying he’s a pastor of some kind at Potter’s House (as if this would validate whatever authority he holds in his imagination). Really? That’s definitely a reason not to go to a service there. Actually that’s many reasons not to go, especially if this is a doctrine that they adopt. So. I don’t think I need to tell you my personal response. I will tell you that he ran away from there. Quickly. I will also share that this is the same guy is the guy from NY that attempted to ‘woo’ the mural artist before. I know. Gross.

Why Am I Writing This?

In the past couple of days since that interaction. I think about the little girls that were with Potter’s House. First I think: Sad. A child being used as a prop as a man attempts to pick up women. I wonder how many times that has happened. Then I also think: Sad. Will that little girl get to become an artist because that man believes that she only has two jobs on the planet and they are to birth babies and support her man? Really? This. Still?

This year I want us to become the humans that we are capable of being. Less marginalization and more encouragement and progress. Less douche baggery and more treating others with respect.

I just want us all to choose better and make better choices. I hope that Potter’s House -each time he passes by the mural with a young girl as its focal point- begins to understand that women weren’t put on the earth to simply accept the blame when men’s ideas don’t go as planned, but they can be larger than life goddesses that can be strong and independent and smart. Women can choose to have families or they can choose to be artists or how about both!! But most of all in this new year I hope that Potter’s House chooses to be less of a misogynistic ass.

Happy New Year everyone!