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.
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