Burlington, day 2

After a shitstorm of packing and unpacking and moving boxes from upstairs to the car to my parents house to the sun porch to the attic and back down again and then into my suitcases and then back out, I said goodbye to my family and hopped on a plane. 


The plane landed in Hamilton and my amazing friend Allison greeted me with hugs and a mini banana loaf. We drove around Burlington, blah blah blah wild garden dream house thai food chatting, and I went to bed early. 


After one day of wandering, Burlington feels pretty comfortable already. It's still very much summer here but everything looks friendly and... well... a lot like Fredericton. Minus the friends, favourite tea shops, and 8 minute walk to the downtown area of course, but familiar just the same. It feels like I'm in some strange dream where the landmarks are the same but in new places. Old routines almost fit, but not quite. 


Maybe I expected a jarring culture shock, something to really be rocked by, and maybe it hasn't come yet. Or maybe I'm supposed to be confounded by how easy it is to pick up your life and transplant it into a new city. We'll see. It's only the end of the second day and tomorrow will bring my first trip to the BAC. 

Packrat

Landing an artist residency right after graduating is a pretty nice way to transition from student to working professional. And landing one that'll take up six months of your life is exciting for a lot of reasons. With that kind of time you can really spend the effort developing new routines and skills, getting to know the artists around you, and you can plan a massive project (or several).

That's what I imagine it'll be like. I'm going to be spending six months at an art centre in ON. In my head it'll be fabulous, but I have to move, and that's guaranteed to throw a big old rusty wrench into everything.

Moving sucks. It really, really does. By nature we hoard little bits of inspiration, art supplies, tools, whatever. Stuff. Our studios (I've yet to see a clutter-free studio) become an extension of our racing minds and then we end up with boxes of nearly-empty paint tubes, or teeny balls of yarn, or stacks of paper and feathers and other oddments. I've been in this city for four years, and this particular apartment for two. There's a lot of stuff in there.

It's not the sorting out of basic personal belongings like clothes and dishes, but it's denuding the studio that really bothers me. Taking everything is obviously out of the question. Taking nothing seems irresponsible.

Artist residencies are perfect, scary opportunities to start fresh and see what you can actually make. A wilderness survival test of sorts. I've been asking friends what they brought with them for their residencies, and the responses were mixed. One, doing a two week residency, brought her camera and watercolour set and some paper, another, doing her MFA in Chicago, brought nothing. Both learned a great deal about their creative processes and it transformed the way they worked.

When I stare at the supplies in the "to bring" pile, I have no idea if I'm on the right track or completely insane, and that "to bring" pile will probably go through innumerable iterations before the final cut has to be made.