Coming back for my second summer was exciting; there was definitely a joyful reunion with my cohort. I made the decision to live off campus again in Roger's Park right on the lake. This time, though, I partnered up with two fellow low-res students to split a larger apartment. Another low res friend moved in a few blocks from us. A few others in the program roomed together as well. Other than our slightly crabby land-lady this worked out great; I really enjoyed having more time to talk and get to know people outside of the classroom.
I was able to do the writing fellowship again, but this time instead of overlapping fellowship and residency for the full 6 weeks, I came out to Chicago 3 weeks early to start the fellowship; the remaining 3 weeks of the fellowship took place during our first three weeks of the residency, giving me my last three weeks of the residency free from the extra responsibility.
The early arrival time allowed for a little more time to spend on my own work too and a chance to meet up with a few other early arrivals.
As returning students, we had a much better sense of the ropes and, in my opinion, were given a much better schedule--no 10pm screenings and no Saturday class. I didn't sign up for ANY authorizations and was able to spend quite a bit of my time working on my then-current project, which happened to be a walking project that would lead up to a 32 mile walk from South Chicago to Wilmette, just north of Chicago. (This would also get me out of the freezing cold air-conditioning for most of the summer!)
My mentor experience with Laurie Palmer was very helpful, just as my work with Matthew had been in the first summer. Our Professional Practices class with Molly got us out in Chicago, visiting galleries around the city. Art History was a bit of a drag because it was a repeat of Modern Art History; however David Getsy brought new life to some stale subjects (Impressionism) and introduced us to some interesting artists (from his own research projects) who didn't make it to the history books.
Year 2 also had a different social dynamic. In year one, my cohort was like the only child. We had everyone's attention; we were starting this brand new thing, so there was a sense that we were all in it together, despite the bumps. Year 2 doubled our number; we went from 37 to 70. There was a bit of tension between 1st years and 2nd years at first. During the first week some in the new group made comments about our (second year students) work being sub-par and that we were only accepted because it was a new program with not very many applications and therefore, not very competitive. But soon, we were making friendships with the newcomers. It helped that our advising groups were mixed with each cohort, but other than advising and the nightly artist lectures, there wasn't a ton of opportunity to get to know the incoming class. I never learned all the names of the new group.
Tensions began to rise among our own cohort, strong personalities emerged and clashed on several occasions. Smaller groups began to form. The pressure was on. Intensity gets to people in different ways. I felt like the best strategy was to stay neutral, try to diffuse things if possible, and remain friendly with all the groups. :) And there was always karaoke at Brando's. That may have been our saving grace. Nothing like singing Total Eclipse of the Heart together in a karaoke choir to build the bond.
Most of our visiting artists returned, along with a new set of artists for lectures, colloquium and critiques. We danced for Yvonne Rainer and sat spell-bound as we listened to Eileen Miles read to us. I was enamored with Andrea Fraser and fortunate to have a super helpful/empowering critique with her. I (along with many others) had been pre-occupied with my "right" to speak about certain subjects through our work. She talked about the importance of authorizing myself to speak; I still return to this thought when I go through those debilitating periods of self-doubt.
As I hoped, my work continued to be challenged during that second summer in ways that made me grateful to be a part of this group. It grew--I grew-- in response to conversations with artists, mentors, classmates, in conversations as we walked along the lake and through the museum, shared late-night drinks and stories, laid on the floor and cried for lost loved ones, watched the news together, read our own poems out loud, sang at the top of our lungs and danced like fools in public. It was a lesson in vulnerability and intimacy that I will not forget.
Saturday, December 10, 2016
The In-Between: The Trouble with Long-Distance Learning
The fall and spring semesters can be a challenge for several reasons. Off-campus, you're no longer in that 24/7 art bubble. You're home working your job in the real world, tending to family life and obligations, and then trying to fit in homework (reading, writing, and blogging) on nights and weekends, all while keeping your studio practice going. That first fall semester, I hardly made anything. The reading and writing homework dominated most of my free time.
To be fair, I came home to my partner and sister's decision to open doughnut shop next door, which completely took over all of our lives from the minute I arrived back home; this left me with not enough time/head space for my work. It was this extremely consuming/intense/stressful experience in combination with our assignment to read Dewey's "Art as Experience" that helped lead me to my current path in social practice work and an exploration on living life as an art practice. Read more on my experience with doughnut shop aesthetics here. (and here. and here too.) If you are open-minded and paying attention, any situation becomes fuel for your art practice.
I was fortunate enough to work with Gregg Bordowitz, our director, for both of my online courses in the fall and spring that first year. His encouragement and direction led to a huge trail of research on socially engaged work that has culminated in a book-length writing project (which later became my thesis). Gregg is brilliant, thoughtful, poetic, and in high demand. (I don't believe he has time to teach fall/spring courses anymore since we've grown from 37 to 100 in 3 years.) Working with him was awesome.
During the fall of my second year I worked with Pamela Sneed at Gregg's recommendation in a class called Art & Human Rights. Again, amazing. So relevant to the direction my work was headed. Both Pamela and Gregg value a "place of first permission" where you have license to write what you want/need to write. In Pamela's class I was able to cut-loose with my writing and explore all kinds of new poetic directions that I had been shy about before.
The other part of the distance learning is your art-making. You are paired with a mentor to check in with you throughout the semester for 6 hours, about 2 to 3 meetings. During my first year, my mentor situation was kind of a nightmare. Both of my mentors (one in the fall, one in the spring) were doing work I was very interested in, but both lived in NYC which was about 2 1/2 hours from me. On their first visit, they came up to see me in my studio/home. We spent our first 3 hours getting to know each other over a meal and then spent about an hour of it in my studio talking about the work. I left those sessions feeling pretty good.
That first fall semester, my mentor requested that I email my current work and come down to meet in NYC for our second and final meeting. I did, even though I couldn't really afford the trip. When I arrived, she hadn't looked at my work and couldn't get her wifi to work enough to view the work. Instead, we talked for an hour and she promised to give me feedback on my writing project to make up the remaining two hours. She did send a little feedback, but it was minimal; certainly not 2 hours worth of time.
In the spring semester, my new mentor canceled our second (and final) meeting due to illness. Again, I was promised feedback on my writing, but received none.
This first year of mentor experience off-campus left me feeling very upset. In particular, I was upset because I was paying thousands of dollars to take this "class" which consisted of me working alone in my own home studio with only a very brief encounter with my mentor. It seemed like robbery, and it kind of is. It was by far the most frustrating part of my low-res experience.
I explained this situation to Michal Lynn and Gregg in hopes that year 2 would not be a repeat. At my request, they paired me with a certain nationally recognized artist (and professor) who just happens to live a block from my house and is making work I really respect. Having my mentor in my town was a huge help. However, I still never got my 6 hours per semester.
The trouble with being part of a brand new program is that you become the guinea pig and nothing has been finalized or tested until you do it. In place of the typical writing/reading topics class, the final spring semester is devoted to writing your thesis and planning for your thesis show. Throughout our time at SAIC, I continued to work on the writing project I had started with Gregg. It had grown from 20 pages to 40 to 110. At 40 pages, Gregg had read it that first spring and suggested I continue with it for my final thesis. However, in December, we received an email announcing a 25 page max for our written thesis. By that point my project had grown to 110 pages. For most of us, a 25 page cap was good news, great news actually considering everyone was balancing school with full-time life. But for the few of us who had already begun the writing process, the cap took the wind out of our sails. It seemed more like a paper than a thesis. It felt like back-tracking. The first month, we had to write an abstract and an outline; the second month-- 10 pages and a revision of the abstract. I was not able to get feedback on more than 25 pages due to my thesis adviser's contract limits. Again, this was incredibly frustrating since I felt like I was paying thousands for such little feedback.
In preparation for the thesis show, we turned in several proposals via email and had skype meetings with gallery staff, all of which were very friendly and helpful. My first proposal was rejected due to space constraints. Although I was upset, it was actually a blessing in disguise and led to my current work. My second proposal was initially accepted, but later I was told I would have to completely change the material due to fire hazards. (I wanted to make a tent using a heavy canvas material.) I was told that either my tent would need to have an open roof (not a tent) or people would not be allowed inside (defeating the purpose). I drove out Chicago to meet with the gallery staff about the fabrics, then came up with a plan B and a plan C. Eventually, I got permission to keep my tent a tent as long as it was sprayed with a special (and expensive) fire retardant.
I heard many similar stories and frustrations from fellow low-resers. I think the entire process would have been a bit easier if I was an on-campus student. But being off campus is what I signed up for.
To summarize...
1) Because you are low residency student not on campus, you will not receive equal time or treatment to your on-campus counterparts. Essentially, you are paying for the "convenience" of being able to live in your own part of the world for the majority of your MFA. It costs the same as the students who are there every day using lights and electricity and studios and equipment. You are not paying for access to those resources. The math will make you want to scream. Come to terms with that ahead of time.
2) Choose your mentors wisely and advocate for yourself if you are not getting the time you are promised.
3) At SAIC (and I'm sure at other schools), you have the opportunity to work with some truly brilliant people, even during the time you are off-campus. Do the reading/writing and be open to the unexpected ways those things can affect your work.
4) Despite all these difficulties, I would still recommend the low residency format for those trying to teach (or raise a family) and go to grad school at the same time.
To be fair, I came home to my partner and sister's decision to open doughnut shop next door, which completely took over all of our lives from the minute I arrived back home; this left me with not enough time/head space for my work. It was this extremely consuming/intense/stressful experience in combination with our assignment to read Dewey's "Art as Experience" that helped lead me to my current path in social practice work and an exploration on living life as an art practice. Read more on my experience with doughnut shop aesthetics here. (and here. and here too.) If you are open-minded and paying attention, any situation becomes fuel for your art practice.
I was fortunate enough to work with Gregg Bordowitz, our director, for both of my online courses in the fall and spring that first year. His encouragement and direction led to a huge trail of research on socially engaged work that has culminated in a book-length writing project (which later became my thesis). Gregg is brilliant, thoughtful, poetic, and in high demand. (I don't believe he has time to teach fall/spring courses anymore since we've grown from 37 to 100 in 3 years.) Working with him was awesome.
During the fall of my second year I worked with Pamela Sneed at Gregg's recommendation in a class called Art & Human Rights. Again, amazing. So relevant to the direction my work was headed. Both Pamela and Gregg value a "place of first permission" where you have license to write what you want/need to write. In Pamela's class I was able to cut-loose with my writing and explore all kinds of new poetic directions that I had been shy about before.
The other part of the distance learning is your art-making. You are paired with a mentor to check in with you throughout the semester for 6 hours, about 2 to 3 meetings. During my first year, my mentor situation was kind of a nightmare. Both of my mentors (one in the fall, one in the spring) were doing work I was very interested in, but both lived in NYC which was about 2 1/2 hours from me. On their first visit, they came up to see me in my studio/home. We spent our first 3 hours getting to know each other over a meal and then spent about an hour of it in my studio talking about the work. I left those sessions feeling pretty good.
That first fall semester, my mentor requested that I email my current work and come down to meet in NYC for our second and final meeting. I did, even though I couldn't really afford the trip. When I arrived, she hadn't looked at my work and couldn't get her wifi to work enough to view the work. Instead, we talked for an hour and she promised to give me feedback on my writing project to make up the remaining two hours. She did send a little feedback, but it was minimal; certainly not 2 hours worth of time.
In the spring semester, my new mentor canceled our second (and final) meeting due to illness. Again, I was promised feedback on my writing, but received none.
This first year of mentor experience off-campus left me feeling very upset. In particular, I was upset because I was paying thousands of dollars to take this "class" which consisted of me working alone in my own home studio with only a very brief encounter with my mentor. It seemed like robbery, and it kind of is. It was by far the most frustrating part of my low-res experience.
I explained this situation to Michal Lynn and Gregg in hopes that year 2 would not be a repeat. At my request, they paired me with a certain nationally recognized artist (and professor) who just happens to live a block from my house and is making work I really respect. Having my mentor in my town was a huge help. However, I still never got my 6 hours per semester.
The trouble with being part of a brand new program is that you become the guinea pig and nothing has been finalized or tested until you do it. In place of the typical writing/reading topics class, the final spring semester is devoted to writing your thesis and planning for your thesis show. Throughout our time at SAIC, I continued to work on the writing project I had started with Gregg. It had grown from 20 pages to 40 to 110. At 40 pages, Gregg had read it that first spring and suggested I continue with it for my final thesis. However, in December, we received an email announcing a 25 page max for our written thesis. By that point my project had grown to 110 pages. For most of us, a 25 page cap was good news, great news actually considering everyone was balancing school with full-time life. But for the few of us who had already begun the writing process, the cap took the wind out of our sails. It seemed more like a paper than a thesis. It felt like back-tracking. The first month, we had to write an abstract and an outline; the second month-- 10 pages and a revision of the abstract. I was not able to get feedback on more than 25 pages due to my thesis adviser's contract limits. Again, this was incredibly frustrating since I felt like I was paying thousands for such little feedback.
In preparation for the thesis show, we turned in several proposals via email and had skype meetings with gallery staff, all of which were very friendly and helpful. My first proposal was rejected due to space constraints. Although I was upset, it was actually a blessing in disguise and led to my current work. My second proposal was initially accepted, but later I was told I would have to completely change the material due to fire hazards. (I wanted to make a tent using a heavy canvas material.) I was told that either my tent would need to have an open roof (not a tent) or people would not be allowed inside (defeating the purpose). I drove out Chicago to meet with the gallery staff about the fabrics, then came up with a plan B and a plan C. Eventually, I got permission to keep my tent a tent as long as it was sprayed with a special (and expensive) fire retardant.
I heard many similar stories and frustrations from fellow low-resers. I think the entire process would have been a bit easier if I was an on-campus student. But being off campus is what I signed up for.
To summarize...
1) Because you are low residency student not on campus, you will not receive equal time or treatment to your on-campus counterparts. Essentially, you are paying for the "convenience" of being able to live in your own part of the world for the majority of your MFA. It costs the same as the students who are there every day using lights and electricity and studios and equipment. You are not paying for access to those resources. The math will make you want to scream. Come to terms with that ahead of time.
2) Choose your mentors wisely and advocate for yourself if you are not getting the time you are promised.
3) At SAIC (and I'm sure at other schools), you have the opportunity to work with some truly brilliant people, even during the time you are off-campus. Do the reading/writing and be open to the unexpected ways those things can affect your work.
4) Despite all these difficulties, I would still recommend the low residency format for those trying to teach (or raise a family) and go to grad school at the same time.
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