SOME PLANNING, SOME UNPLANNING, SOME RE-PLANNING
meeting each other at new rocks in the road.
So, so long ago — 2010 maybe? 2011? — I volunteered in a community project at the Fleisher Art Memorial where the Artist in Residence was a woman named George Ferrandi. Her project was a self-described “night parade” called “Wherever There Is Water”. I dyed outfits for my family using kakishibu (fermented persimmon), made a tiny Claudia a tiny tutu out of torn up tulle curtains from IKEA, and battery powered strings of LED fairy lights (now, an absolutely elemental component of any night parade.) I also spun the yarn and knit an enormous Faroese shawl for a parade float figure of an old woman. In a photo e-mailed to me by another parade participant, I was in view with the giant old woman and her curved, shawled back. Next to me was another figure; Tucker’s brother, months or a year before Tuck and I had even met.
Night parades. They were pure magic and they were always just sitting there, waiting. Low-budget, No-budget, No Artist-in-Residence.
Now it’s the middle of 2023, and the Covid pandemic still affects funding, personal budgets for an audience to take in the arts, storage — nothing can be taken for granted, because nothing is the same. A puppeteer and writer friend of mine is giving our family the treat of watching over a number of his props and puppets while he prepares to travel.
A lot of this year has been keeping each other safe as we looked for new bases of operation. We did not physically see Zach for two years, as he and I were both considered high risk for the virus.
On last year’s World Puppetry Day, Zach had written a post about what we’d done together with the Civil Rights, Civil Rites Project, and how we were planning, the three of us, to form an entirely Neuro diverse company. We were in stasis, but we had a plan, and methods to get it in motion.
Months later, Zach texted to tell me he had moved to Maine. It was emotional and it was hard. the Philadelphia-based autism organization had not only never come to any of the public events where Zach was absolutely killing it — this project had never, despite my repeated invitations, “Liked” us on Facebook.
After two years of winning this organization’s seed grant, then a year of participating in their Advisory Board, I felt the only advice I had to give was to the organization itself: watch it with the erasure and silencing of neurodivergent Advisory Board members.
So. Tuck, Amber and Zach. Zack with a million ideas plotted out from beginning to end, Amber with a hard, fast goal of learning more specifics about armature and cord-free circuitry, and Tuck trying to squeeze in his Ph. D around us. This was something we could work with.
Then Zack called to tell me he’d moved to Maine, and to ask for directions to my friend’s peacock farm.
If there’s one thing I have learned about Zach’s family, it is that they will move across the country if they think there were more opportunities there for Zach. In this they absolutely have my vote. But Maine? What was in Maine?
One of my best friends since high school — not the one whose puppets were all over my bedroom, but the one who was a farmer in Maine — is in Maine. And raised peacocks. Anyone who has seen this blog knows Zach’s feelings about peacocks. And albino peacocks. Which my friend also had.
It took Zachary no time to find them.
After so many projects with Zach, and making blueprints for the ship that could sustain us while we took the time we needed with those projects… Right now we coast with good wishes and friendship formed.
I wanted to look beyond the small, modest parade to the truly one-off and personal. Okay, I wanted a reason to hang with my kids. cosplay. Tuck and I had had some couples costumes in mind for years. This felt much more private, intimate, and personal.
Since we knew we would be having a slow few years, I set out to learn more and read more. I wanted to practice making small circuitry. I wanted to think about my “bucket list” of events to attend, and to make sure there were original, impossible-to-imitate. There are a lot of puppet parades in the world these days, and things had started to feel samey-samey.
As I thought about all these things, I was hit with a few surprises via the social media outback. I found a Manifesta that I continue to wish I had written myself. Dr. Lucy Wright gave me permission to link to her work in this post. I don’t think I will ever stop reading this piece. It is a map to my future.
Jennifer White-Johnson is a fascinating project- based educator, advocate, and graphic designer. I cried when I missed her engagement at Moore College of Art in Philly — missed, as many things are for me, because a haze of pain both before and during was my “priority”. (And if I had not had the pain, I’d have made sure the time was used to be with the kids, who are still getting used to seeing me with a mobility aid.)
This manifesto says it all. I’m armed with this and with Dr. Lucy’s manifesto, and ready for any side quests and personal projects we come up with, and this is what feels best now. Béla got a book about using EVA foam (and some foam!) For Christmas, so we have plenty to learn — but no deadlines, no promotion, no 500-word abstracts to write for funding or travel. For now I am a maker and storyteller at home, planning a Wicker Man watching party for my teens and their friends.
I can happily say, a number of plans have run aground. Instead of starting any new ones, I want to mend my nets from my safe and loving home, from inside a fort of unfinished projects.
I look forward to the next hour, and to this weekend, and even the summer.
