Contraptions
We met once a week for a year, carved out time so that we could collaborate. We couldn’t have produced the book without the physical presence of the other. We knew it was possible to collaborate long-distance, but this book was not made that way, could not have been. On our evenings together, we talked about difficult content and responded to one another without interruption. We worked; then one of us would say “what you got?” The writing was raw, confusing, challenging for both of us. Sometimes it sounded like an argument among mean spirits. Sometimes clearer, gentler, funnier. We talked about what the words were pointing to—the nature of the mind as a contraption, how human intimacy is often at the mercy of that contraption. We laughed about the way the mind will #%*! you if you think about it.
We hauled our project and tools around with us last year: Vicki stored her spiral notebook and pencils for the raw word-work in her laptop bag, which she took wherever she went. Marney used a wooden crate to carry her work and tools, a portable workshop like a clown car. Amazing how much the crate contains: jars of glue and water, tins of pencils, scissors and brushes, baskets of paper and images from our partners’ burn piles and recycling bins.
We practiced being with each other and with the content of the project as each of us took up our tools, kept each other company as we traced our dark hearts and our light hearts and practiced welcoming whatever came. Some sessions went better than others, but we helped each other remember our rules: tell the truth no matter how it sounds, don’t give up, don’t make excuses.
Opening Reception: Friday, November 6 / 5-8 PM
