the a.i.r. experiment and research study

i'm engaging in a little research project this semester--mentored by Pat. B. Allen through JFKU. I'm deciding, i'm a self-declared ARTIST IN RESIDENCE and showing up in various settings, engaging in art making, and noticing what happens in me--and around me--as i do it. i'm going to track the efforts here. please let me know if anything sparks something in you--makes you want to be an a.i.r. too--and what you get going in your own part of the world as inspired by anything you come across here.

as always, thank you for your kind eyeballs.

i am moving forward--entering the work. so far, i have had 3 data point/visible artist in residence experiences.

1. in line at the post office in novato on monday, april 14--the day before tax day. i was mailing off the promised books to my contributing writers, and the line was long and the box was heavy and the feeling in the room was anxious and stressful. when i got far enough in the line, i took out a pen and began decorating the box--drawing the energy in the room. i noticed these things: i went to a much calmer/more meditative state, those around me, as long as i kept up in the line, looked interested in what i was drawing and seemed "distracted" by having something else to notice, i received comments, "good idea", "i like to draw, too", "hmmmm". all in, the experience of drawing in the line took approximately one hour. when i got to the window, and it was my turn for help from the postal worker, i noticed that i was more calm, more focused, and friendlier than i might otherwise have been. i engaged with the clerk and she told me a story of what she does to calm her nerves when the line is long and tensions are high, as they are today. she talked about tomorrow, and how the radio station will be outside and that sometimes the staff at the post office will bring in cookies and refreshments for the folks who have to wait in line. she talked about how many years she'd been doing this (8) and how she doesn't get rattled as much anymore--except when the computer goes down and the cc/atm processing takes longer than it should (as it did for our exchange). although this was an "accidental" a.i.r. encounter, as i hadn't entered the post office with the intention it be my first a.i.r. experience, i noticed it and thought it could be included, at least anecdotally.

2. coming back from the esc trade show in san jose that i attended at the request of an ad agency, on thursday, april 18, i got turned around and took the wrong highway toward home. realizing i was at sand hill road (the famous road where all the vc (venture capitalists) have their offices), i took the exit and headed over toward stanford. i thought, to sit out the traffic and take in the sunset, i would find my way over to the cantor arts center and encounter what was there to encounter, and enter what was there to enter and write what came up in witness. i parked just opposite the sandstone sculpture installed by andrew goldsworthy and team. i found the bend in the serpent that felt most "womblike" and parked my artist's butt in that coil of the snake. i felt the strength of the sandstone wall and admired the chiseled rocks and their hearty placement--purposeful, strong, calmly positioned, without the need for the glue of cement to bind the rocks together in any way. each piece of the wall puzzle was simply laid in where it indicated its belonging. i sat in the center of that space for a long time. i began to notice the people walking a respectful distance from where i was sitting in the serpent. i began to notice the people noticing the placement of me in the coiled wall. i began to notice the decaying leaves that had clustered with the wind in this same spot in which i sat. i felt the a.i.r. in me take over and begin writing, directly on the leaves, leaving a trail of the questions that emerged from this moment of sitting. i felt my artist interacting with the art of this stone wall and the inspiration left by the artists who created it and the famous artist who inspired it. i found my own way to extend the work with my making--and left a trail of worded leaves, in various moments of eaten or decaying, as a kind of breadcrumb trail leading the imagined others in, as making it led me out. i noticed, as i emerged "just beth" and moved out of the sculpture on toward the art center, that i was being observed. i noticed others follow the trail of worded leaves in as i moved a safe distance away.

this encounter led me to one where i wondered if the guard on the bench was a duane hanson sculpture--as he was sitting so still. i was beaming happy as i realized he was real. we had an exchange about the ticket he got and the pay he got for being a guard at the cantor arts center and the realization that he had to pay to work at stanford that day. he talked about how there are no permits for part time guards and that the walk to and from a parking place he could find, when he was early enough for his shift, added another 40 minutes to his unpaid time at work. he talked about playing with his neighbor's child and having that be worth more than anything he earned at work and how he would much rather do that than pay to come to work at stanford. he talked about how unfair it was that part time security guards did not receive parking permits and had to walk so far or get tickets--$35--that the school would not absorb. i promised i would write a letter.

i went in to the center, and moved through rooms i had been in before and parts of the collection i had not taken time with. i found a duane hanson sculpture that reminded me of my dad. i smiled in recognition.

before i was done with the center and ready to re-enter the flow of traffic home, i took some time witnessing the gates of hell--an extraordinary sculpture in the garden with many other pieces by rodin. i shared the witness here: http://web.mac.com/bethbenson/writressworder.com/elizablog_08/Entries/2008/4/17_witnessing_the_gates_of_hell.html


3. on friday,april 19, i returned to a favorite family owned cafe, denica's, where, over the years of my doorstop cinnamon roll and double mocha, i have come to know the owner and her husband. my years of regular writing there began to spill over and connect me to the folks who always saw me coming in to do my creative activity. when i came through the line, ordering a breakfast sandwich and double mocha, and then sat at my customary table at the end of the counter, opened my handmade book and began making in it, james, the owner's husband, came over to tell me he had made a scrapbook for his family based on the inspiration he got from seeing me come in and make inside my own books. denica, herself, told me she started her newsletter as a result of 1. having always wanted to start it and 2. seeing me come in and write on a regular basis over time. denica extended an invitation that i write a column for her newsletter. i stayed in the making for about an hour. i ruminated on the invitations. at some point, james brought out a kind of a polyurethane and painted a faded part of the new pastry counter going in on the taco side of the business. it started inspired a discussion of his making tables, and how he forever became known as the guy who made the tables (big slabs of ancient wood, on a tripod of chrome legs, painted with something that brought each ring alive). he showed me what he was using and talked about using paintbrushes he could just throw away later. he went to the back and brought out some foam padded sandpaper cut in interesting shapes and talked about how much easier it was to use than other kinds of sandpaper. he made an appointment with me--asking when i would next be in--and offering to bring his scrapbook. once the appointment was secured, (next friday, april 26), he reminded me that the scrapbook was precious and we would need to take extra special care while looking at it. he talked of his plans to illustrate the cookbook he is making with his wife/the business, with pages from this scrapbook.

i will proceed with a few more this week--and just send you a weekly kind of reporting of what i'm noticing? i imagine this and the documentation of the encounters will form the raw material for the paper. am i imagining correctly? is that a weird question?