Meet my newest piece: EXHALE
Well. What a year 2020 is turning out to be! Rather than struggling against ALL of this year’s challenges ALL of the time, I decided to lean in a bit. I cleared what was left of my schedule, took a good long break from social media, and paused. Spent a lot of time sitting with and trying to digest the enormity of everything that’s transpired recently, and the decades worth of things leading up to where we are now.
I’ve been thinking a lot about sustainability and the climate crisis, and what changes I can make on a personal scale. I’ve been learning about systemic racism, and how I can be a better anti-racist ally moving forward. And I also took some time to deeply reflect on some personal matters that have been with me for over 20 years now, but which I mostly try to avoid due to the fact that they’re painful and unpleasant. And then there’s the pandemic - I’ve also thought a lot about what Covid-19 has changed about our world, and what I’d like to change about my own world as a result.
Since art is one of the ways I have of processing thoughts and life, all of this has resulted in a new piece entitled “EXHALE”. This piece is about grief, but also about trying to let go of grief to make room for other things. It’s about the experiences and people I’m grateful for. It’s about the spaces left behind when something crumbles. It’s about seeing potential in those spaces rather than loss.
The background image is a building in Havana, Cuba. You can see where there used to be another building - people’s homes, rooms, stairs - that’s now gone. Layered over that are some joyful images and memories from my trip to Paris last year (details include flowers from Monet’s garden in Giverny, and lights and structural detail from the carousel in Montmartre). There are cascading window box plants from a picturesque courtyard surrounded by antique shops and a cafe in Northern Ireland, and - across the bottom - lights and architecture from a gorgeous big hotel in downtown Havana. Cuba and the Cuban people inspired me more than I could have imagined. Their resourcefulness and resilience is beyond anything I’ve seen anywhere else, and we saw more joyful smiles there than I think we’ve seen anywhere in the world so far. Through these layers, there’s a subtle rainbow that permeates the piece - it’s there to be a reminder for hope and joy.
The final image layer is a photograph that I took underwater while snorkeling in a cenote in Mexico a couple of years ago. Snorkeling both terrifies and thrills me - I’m constantly scared of being choked by water coming down my snorkel, but so enchanted by the miraculous world underwater. There’s a good chance I was holding my breath when I took that photograph.
I’ve been thinking about breath a lot over the past months, and the title of the piece is a reference to a few things - the looming pandemic, and it’s effects on the respiratory system. George Floyd’s last words, and all that they represent. And something I’ve heard repeated dozens of times over the past months from my online yoga instructor and from guided meditations: “Exhale. Let go.” It’s not easy, and I need to keep reminding myself. I made this piece to be part of that reminder.