I’m no Barbra Streisand
(both in looks and dexterity), so it’s no surprise that whenever craft time was
upon us in grade school I would fake an illness, try to stage my untimely
death, or eat a tube of glue to induce illness (or death). Craft time was my
personal hell, and I avoided its horrid ability to prove just how clumsy and
ungraceful I can be well into my adult life. And then I came to PARC.
Which is why I only like crafts that involve alcohol. |
See, my original
intention was to work in an environment that would support my background in
urban studies – a field dominated by the formalities and professionalism of
planners, architects, consultants, policy advisors…So you can imagine how much
I started to collapse within myself after I was asked to make feathers from
tinfoil for three hours. It was a whole new version of self-induced hate after I put everything I had into a dream catcher that ended up looking more
like a sewer gyre.
The 'Endless Tree' created by PARC members and staff. |
The irony of being
handed off into the arms of PARC’s artistic director was not lost on me. I am
the least likely candidate to support an arts program; most of the time I have
enough trouble staying upright, and any feeble attempts I make to be visually
creative usually end up looking like a modern Picaso if Picaso was a
paraplegic. It took time for me to understand that the type of art we do at
PARC isn’t necessarily about results, but process.
I was the only one who cared that my art was pre-school, or that I couldn’t
cross-stitch a goddamn cardboard box. We are learning together, and, more
importantly, allowing our selves to flow into our craft. It is an outlet and an
extension of the stories and struggles of people who wouldn’t otherwise have an
outlet.
Nowadays, when I step
into the craft room at PARC to paint a giant canvas tree or make ‘wise puppets’
out of clay, I feel a deep sense of purpose covered in a blanket of safe
serenity. We begin each session with a ten minute meditation where every person
involved can find that place where thoughts turn inward and creativity is born.
We sing Celtic folk songs and make non-sensical voices for our made-up characters.
We write stories about imaginary markets and creatures born in our heads. But
most importantly, we become ourselves and embrace the various multifaceted and
multidimensional forms that take shape when people collaborate to make art.
Warming up at the Sound Choir. |
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