Thoughts from the Curator - April Parviz
In February, I was mulling around an idea for an exhibit I wanted to curate for this summer. I talked with my boss-friend, Sarah Bernhard and she said she was open to the idea, and that I should send her my thoughts.
So I sent her this content, which would have been the call to artists to submit work to the show:
How Do You Live?
Hi. My name is April and I’m a fellow artist.
I’ve been processing grief a lot lately. It’s been an interesting experience. Between the waves of grief, I seem to be “fine.” But when a large wave is crashing down on me, I struggle to understand what it means to grieve well, and I am tempted to gather a bouquet of new damaging habits. During the last massive wave, I found my mind looking ahead at four possible paths. One was a path of bitterness, one was a path of depression, one was a path of escapism and the other was the path that follows Jesus. I love Him, so that’s a path that I often look for. I thought about which path to take for three weeks, but the wave was gone before I could decide. I don’t know what will happen during the next wave.
I want to know about the paths that you’ve taken while grieving. I want to hear from everyone, not just other followers of Jesus. I want to continue to work through what it means to grieve well, but I want to hear from other artists who have processed their grief through their art.
I am specifically looking for artwork that focuses on the idea of how to grieve well.
I want to see that art, and I want to read honest reflections about it.
Let’s have a conversation together that will help us to continue to grieve well, and also give others a light in that darkness, for when they find themselves battling the waves.
This exhibit is titled for, and somewhat guided by, the recent Studio Ghibli film that was released last year. It follows the story of a boy who chooses several different paths as he grieves an ineffable tragedy. It is also titled for the book, which inspired the film. The book follows a boy who discovers that constant deep introspection is very important in order to love others on a regular basis.
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Sarah responded saying, essentially, that she loved this idea, but felt we needed to balance out some of the heavier content we had been exploring in the gallery lately with some lightness of sorts, but she would love to see this happen one day, in the future.
I was still interested in curating an exhibit for the summer, so I kept a mental ear out for a “lighter” concept. If one came to me, I’d pitch it to her. If one didn’t, I would just leave it alone.
Pretty quickly, a new idea came, I pitched it, and she loved it. So from March to the middle of July, I focussed heavily on carefully and lovingly building this exhibit.
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The Call for Art:
Evidence of Joy
Today I went to the doctor. On the sign-in station there sat a small snowman made from an old salt and pepper shaker. His head was a little styrofoam ball. His hat was the lid of the shaker, and inside his little bottle tummy were a bunch of what looked to be miniature cotton-balls. As I waited to be checked in, I observed the fact that someone had made it. She didn’t have to. But she was perhaps feeling the joy of winter, and she wanted to share her joy. The snowman wasn’t sitting in her home, it was sitting here, for me to enjoy. And I did enjoy it. The reflection that she had experienced joy in making it, and the fact that she had done it selflessly, with no expectation of thanks, brought me joy.
After my reflection on the sweet little snowman, I began to see evidence of someone else’s joy, intentionally being shared with strangers, everywhere I went. The person in the house five doors from mine, has a little jar of complimentary dog treats out on a bird feeder hanger in their yard, right by the sidewalk. People have lovely seasonal wreaths hanging on the outside of their front doors, not on the inside. Painted rocks are mysteriously left in people's gardens by strangers. I’m sure that now I'm aware of this, I’ll be seeing evidence of joy everywhere. And strangers will discover footprints of my own joy, making their footprints joyful too.
When I look at the current world of art, I feel like I see a lot of evidence of many inspiring things, but not always so much joy. I know in my own art practice, I am often fueled by loud palpable emotions like pain and confusion. Perhaps if I begin practicing using joy as fuel, I will begin to do it more habitually. Perhaps if we practice seeing joy more we can become habitual joy detectives.
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Evidence of Joy opened on July 16th. It’s up and running now! If you’d like to see it, the gallery hours are Tuesdays through Fridays from 10:30am - 4:30pm & Saturdays from 12 - 6pm.
The art is so lovely. These artists did not hold back. We have already had so many people come through the gallery and leave filled with so much joy. Every time I walk in, I almost cry. The first three times I walked in, I definitely did. A lot of this work is the sort of work that you just have to see, in person. I hope you all get to do that at some point.
The exhibit runs through October 26th. I would recommend carving out some time for yourself to come in, alone, and just take it in, slowly. So many people say they feel too busy, overworked and/or empty these days. I've started seeing more and more people make the intentional decision to care for themselves with an hour-long solo date to our gallery. It fills my heart when I see people doing this. I know that joy is a thing that spreads, kind of mystically. So when I see someone walking around the exhibit, I get excited about the joy they will carry out of our gallery to spread into the world, even though I probably won't get to witness it. That's okay. I believe it's happening, and that's enough to make my whole week shine with joy.
We’re having a Dovetail Lecture and Chamber Concert on September 24th from 6-8, which you can register for here. We'd love to see you all there.
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There is a pretty big book you can read, which follows the exhibit. There are statements from the artists, about their work, writings and reflections from various writers - and several reflections from me : )
I started slowly collecting evidence of joy, daily, throughout the planning process. I’ve documented that evidence in the book.
It’s interesting… if you read the book, you’ll see how, even though I didn’t curate the original exhibit I had in mind - about grief, I still found myself gently processing my grief through this exhibit. Perhaps the path that follows Jesus is the one that fights to carry joy, even when we feel like our arms can hardly even lift the grief that only we can carry.
I believe what I’ve learned from this exhibit is that, we must carry grief in one arm, and joy in the other. Now, with both bundles, we can move forward on the mysterious path of hope. We can’t see how long it is, but we can see that it is lined with zillions of flowers for as far as the horizon, and perhaps past that. We don’t know. But we can hope.
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.
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Click here to read the book : )
