Artist in Transition

Why are labels so important to us?  We all have a need to understand who we are and why we are here, but it seems that we need to label ourselves in order to achieve that understanding.  I'm the "academic" the "artist" the "redhead" the "fill-in-the-blank."  Why is categorization so important to our ability to understand the world?  Perhaps those convenient little boxes really just give us the illusion that we comprehend what's going on around us.

I did a project with a group of students in 2010 called the No Label Project.  (Our website is no longer active, but you can view the homepage here.)  On a single day, we passed out nearly two thousand large, bright red stickers that simply read "NO LABEL."  We asked people to wear these stickers on their person for the day, and to use it as an opportunity to talk about how we are all labeled.  We were particularly interested in the idea of "disability" as a label.  A "disability" is a different way of functioning in the world, but we're quick to peg someone as "the blind girl" or "the stutterer" or "the kid with ADD."  These things may be part of our experience of the world, but they don't define who we are.

Being a person who stutters, I am very aware of the effect of labels.  I used to call myself a "stutterer."  It was such a part of who I was, I couldn't actually imagine myself without it, except in some far-off dream of the future.  When I finally realized that this was creating a problem for me in speech therapy--that I couldn't let the stuttering go and still be "Erica," I started saying "I am a person who stutters."  This seems so simple, but it really changed how I think about who I am.  Rather than being a "stutterer," stuttering is something that happens to me or that I do.  We don't call someone an "ADDer," because ADD isn't who they are.  It's something someone struggles with, but it isn't synonymous with who they are.

Fast forward to today.  I feel as though I have lost "who I am."  I didn't realize that being a "professor" or an academic had come to overwhelmingly define me in my own eyes.  Without that title or that label, I feel lost.  Am I an artist, a maker, a stay-at-home-wife?  What is my new paradigm to understand myself and my purpose?

Matthew and I attended a small group Bible study last Sunday, and someone asked us what we do.  Matthew's a geospatial researcher who works for the Army Corps.  I said "I'm an artist in transition."  I was teaching and now I'm making, but I'm not really sure what I'm doing.  For the first time, I found a label that seemed to fit.  And I really hate labels, but I still seem to depend on them.  Without one, would I be anything at all?

Celebrating the Small Successes

Nearly six weeks gone by and no post.  For shame!  Thanks, MaryBeth, for prodding me a little.

I have had my first small success.  I finally made a totally wearable piece of jewelry for a reasonable cost that I am proud to say is mine.  It was harder to get there than I expected.  The piece is a brooch, made from a vintage doily soaked in red epoxy-based resin, cured and trimmed in the form of a hemisphere and set, gemstone-like, in a simple silver bezel.

Digging into my jewelry roots, I have found it surprisingly difficult to make something unexpected.  The first pieces I made were brightly colored earrings (an example is pictured below), constructed of hollow boxes filled with resin and sanded to a smooth surface.  They are really quite cute and I have enjoyed wearing and gifting them, but they are also similar to other jewelry I've seen and I can't say I want to be defined by them.  

www.etsy.com/shop/EricaDuffyVoss

This leads me to ask:

Are we defined by what we make?

Why I am so afraid to be associated with jewelry I feel is just "average" or "the norm?"  Is it because I don't want to be viewed as average or just so-so?  I think this is, in part, the case, but I also believe I have a unique perspective--as every person does, and want to demonstrate this by what I produce.

Up until now, I have been doing this by making artwork about my own experiences--first about stuttering and more recently about handcraft itself and the power of art to communicate and transform.  This somehow seems like "important" work--that somehow I can change the perceptions and ideas of others through art.  But that may just be my ego elbowing into things.  It has also, to some extent, been the view of the art world in general--"Craft" is often viewed as the ugly stepsister to "Art."  I don't believe this, but the concept has pervaded my worldview.

I sit here imagining Snow White's stepmother as the ugly witch poisoning the apples from which Snow White will later take her fatal bite.  I was so afraid of this scene when I first saw it in the movie theater as a young child I literally ran out.  But isn't that how some ideas become part of our lens for viewing the world?  We ingest just one little piece at a time until--BOOM--it's got you!  Okay, perhaps a bit melodramatic, but my point is that what we believe about the world comes from many, many experiences over time.  We may remember some of the major ones, like the day you ran a staple right through your finger moments after your Grandma told you not to touch the stapler (I was four), but forget the minor ones, like, oh....when you burned a batch of cookies.  You don't remember the kind of cookie or how old you were or any of the other circumstances, but you learn to check your cookies' progress more often as they bake to ensure you get just the right brown.

I digress.

I am happy to report my second small success--my first sales!  I sold a few pairs of earrings through a small craft sale hosted by a friend in Alexandria, Virginia.  Onwards and upwards!