Butterflies in my stomach, I overpacked the car with groceries, canvases, kitchen sinks and a bathing suit for good measure. So many months ago I applied for this residency, at a place I knew little about. Why do introverts sign on for such things? This introvert, in particular, does this to herself somewhat regularly and deals with the consequences in the moment.
In this particular moment, I was on my way to Arts, Letters & Numbers (ALN) a residency program based in an old mill and house in Averill Park, NY. Only three hours from home the landscape was Vermont-adjacent but dotted with lakes.
It was two weeks of frantic—and later intentional—focused work. The house was huge and airy— brimming with books, art, instruments and kind, quirky, marvelous, supportive people.
My cohort included composers, writers, painters and installation artists. On hot days we jumped in a nearby lake. We settled into a routine run to the nearby Gipfel Coffee. On Tuesdays we joined local ALN enthusiasts for ping pong and potluck. Sometimes we woke to vibratto echoing through the house, or chords on the piano. Mostly we worked, visited each other for support and clarity, slept a little (but not much), and found inner reserves we didn’t know we had. I pushed myself to try to paint fire, the sky at dusk, sweet light, figurative pieces from the early months of the lockdown in 2020.
It was a rich time that I’m revisiting in my mind often. I had 21 pieces in the works by the time I left. I am rearranging my studio to continue the habits of work I put in place there. And I’ll keep pushing that comfort zone.
