an ARCHIVE of news
Every so often, Nina sends a thoughtful newsletter.
As the world reckoned with a pandemic over the past year, like many people, my perspectives shifted towards more personal scales, my sensitivities attuned to more poetic spaces. In a time that feels rife with planet-wide problems, I needed to focus on what I could wrap my head and hands around. As covid decreased certain detours and distractions, I heard friends and family understanding what they had depended on, what they longed for, what they were relieved to be relieved of. For me, being busy often camouflages the myriad intrigues, ideas, and inspirations that propel me; slowing down was an opportunity to examine my own constellations and connections.
Hurtle and Hurdle is a piece of music by Jessica Pavone, a brilliant composer and musician who I recently met at the Ucross Foundation. The rhythms in the music and the title have been with me in recent weeks. Through many conversations about the time warp of covid, I know that I am not alone in my combination of malaise, molasses, motivation, and very occasional mania. We hurtle through life. We stumble and soar over hurdles. We sometimes hurt. The earth hurtles through space. And on and on.
I have the unique ability to smell matsutake mushrooms. Not everyone can smell them. They do not smell like any other mushroom with that heady sense of humus and hearty earth. Instead, they smell like the cinnamon disk candies that my mother used to consume rather than cough in church. Matsutake have such a distinctly inorganic, red hot, seemingly synthetic scent that it stops me mid stride, and I suddenly hunch over, peering into the piles of pine needles and forest detritus.
I wish I was sending this to you by mail, a handwritten surprise that by showing up in your hands might startle you from all the grim realities that we are living through.
I have a pen pal. When Frank’s letters arrive it is as though the world has paused until I can rip into the envelope and let his words enter my mind after their long journey. We write to one another about the flight of baby birds, the wild seasons of weather and creativity and our souls, about wind and weirdness and hope. Our letters are often caught in strange cycles of syncopation, the dialog tumbling and non-linear. It is one of the best things in my life.
I just spent several days with the ocean. I watched it turn from jade green to hot orange in the afternoon sun. I saw it agitated and monochrome under storming night skies. The ocean was gentle against my skin, and I also sensed it's pulling boundless might. I felt cleansed by the salty water, yet I know the oceans are treated as sewers and rubbish bins. While a hurricane brewed across the planet, I counted on the peaceful tides.
An ocean is many things.
What endures? What needs saving? Are you an archive of the past? How are you creating the future? When are you? What will you be? Why are you going to be?
Throughout the last several months, with hundreds of brilliant students, I sought new connections between past, present, and potential futures, exploring time as a language, a measure, an art medium, a social context, a scientific principle, a spiritual space, and a cultural expression.
I was alone and attentive. Across the lake, I watched two wolves accelerate from a walk to a carnivorously linear sprint. Practiced predation, nimble legs, a moving target, and need pulled them over the horizon in the midnight dusk. I wondered if each hunt feels like a singular event, or if wolf life is a fluid cycle of hunger and hunt and satiation and hunger again. We three had witnessed each other, each motivated by unique hunger and distinct metabolisms.
“Let curiosity lead.” These three words are my most offered advice and my emboldening ethos. In the past year, thanks to terrific opportunities and residencies, and the financial support of the Pollock Krasner Foundation, curiosity has been my map, terrain, and motivation. I calibrated my compass to a migrating northern star, one that has led me to the end of dirt roads, into astonishing wildernesses and industrial wastelands.