Spoiler alert: Nothing contained in this post will be new to those of you who have had the pleasure of a MacDowell Colony residency. Still, I am moved to write, so...
Day 11 at MacDowell. I think the most profound thing about this place can be encapsulated in the way lunch is delivered. Quietly, almost silently, a basket of fresh food is left outside the door to each artist's studio. No knock, no fanfare. An almost imperceptible affirmation of the value of the work that may or may not be going full throttle on the other side of each door.
The meaning of this for me is huge. As most creative people in America, I spend most of my days at a day job.
And to some of us, even the idea that our work might be of sufficient import to justify total quiet and total independence--freedom to think, breathe, create, or simply wander unfettered and unobserved feels almost transgressive. There's a part of me, I suppose, that will never feel fully worthy.
But today on the 11th day here in paradise, I'm inching a little bit further in the direction of abundance and sure-footedness, thanks in no small measure to the consistent hum of support and faith and love that infuses everything and almost everyone at MacDowell, including lunch.
for more on the Artists Colony thing, see David Licata's thoughtful post, Get Thee to an Artist Residency!
