a rejected proposal
becoming accepting of whatever happens
Fri 16 Dec
In October, I was approached by a national arts org and informed that I had been longlisted for a year-long research bursary that I needed to write a proposal for. That I was being considered on the merit of my work was very validating, and I connected strongly with the guidelines about material sustainability and ecological practice. Before I heard back about my proposal, I had already made peace with the fact that I had no better chance than anyone else and that the result would not be affected by any amount of thinking / wishing / worrying. I was calm with the opportunity coming to me or not. It was therefore surprising that I was extremely disappointed and upset, ungracious even, to miss out on the bursary, but I have to honour those feelings as undesirable as they are. Trying to suppress ugly bits of myself feels conceited, and if I am going to live with abundance it must also include the space to make mistakes and accept my flaws.
I thought I would share it anyway as it feels good to reinforce my intentions for the coming year, knowing full well that things unfold in strange ways.
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Challenging the sustainability of materials is the linchpin of my practice, around which all ongoing research, development and outputs revolve against the backdrop of climate catastrophe. However, “sustainability” is an overused and vague term, and a core aim is to grapple with –and critique– the frameworks and language that support the performance of climate action while extractive processes and wasteful events continue on both individual and global scales.
I am consistently interrogating my position as a cultural producer within the context of decarbonisation. I’m a bad consumer who rejects dominant wasteful culture based on fossilfuels and unfair labour demands, who is purposefully working towards a slow, embodied practice that respects (and draws attention to) entire lifecycles. Through food, walking, writing and social projects, I want to know: What constitutes an art material? Where are they sourced, by whom, and where do they go once we’ve finished with them? Why do artworks last forever when we don’t have a forever secured?
Each aspect of my living practice is engaged with and tethered to the delicate web of ecology that enmeshes us. For the last five years, I have concentrated on processes of fermentation and digestion; examples of vital co-existence with others, and catalysts for irreversible transformation that I feel spiritually attached to. ––––––––– will allow me to immerse myself in this and connect with practitioners like scientists, farmers and dieticians who understand ‘decay’ in their own fields of work. I plan to study anaerobic fermentation with microbiologists, investigate herbal properties with landworkers and growers, and learn how probiotic foods help guts function. This opportunity will help me prioritise interspecies collaboration (with plants, insects and bacteria for example) and build non-linear narratives to aid eco-critical artistic methodologies.
I am particularly interested in working with the Fermentation Facility at Cambridge University and soil experts in the Biodynamic Association to study microbial action in organic degradation processes like lacto-fermentation of foods, human-powered composting and mycelial remediation in land regeneration. I would approach King’s Institute of Life Sciences to see how the microbiome self-regulates. I want to deepen and expand my knowledge of human symbiosis with microbial, fungal and yeasty lifeforms that live in / on / with us and power the invisible cycles of birth and decay that support all life.
This will enable open-ended experimentation with materials that fall apart, get eaten, blow away, dissolve and decompose. Based on my devotion to learning permaculture techniques, I will begin designing closed-loop systems for art production that use waste products to power renewal. As a starting point, I will play with media that degrade both physically (bioplastics, cassette tapes, scavenged furniture) and digitally (compressed jpegs, crunched audio, video over weak wifi), which bring perceptions of wholeness into disrepute and expose accidental or coincidental textures while in decay.
In short, I ask myself questions about chaotic degrowth every day, and would relish the opportunity to further my material research with the support, focus and purpose of –––––––––––.