Recap featured Archives - UNMAM.ART Rose B.Simpson: Seminar

Week 6 D4

jasonROSEBSIMPSONadmin — Wed, 01 Sep 2021 15:48:52 +0000

A Student Response From:

Christopher

How do I do things, to what end?

I recently ended an artist statement like this:

Mystery is the context which allows questions to exist. Mystery fills me with a sense of vitality; there is life in questions.

The statement as a whole was vague and left questions. Am I ready to know?

I appreciate the perspective of finding solace and direction in questions as they are reflected back by all aspects of life.

That is a direction I want to go in; to live in the present life of questions, being awake to the richness of not knowing, not just the burning desire for answers.

I do feel the desire for answers and that does create conflict within me. It’s difficult to surrender to the big mystery. It is difficult to let go of the idea that answers will give me the sense of security I crave.

Would empathy exist without questions? If I am open to the question of something I can empathize. How do you feel?

A Last Note:

Thank you for this experience and opportunity to reflect!

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Week 5 Akyra

jasonROSEBSIMPSONadmin — Wed, 01 Sep 2021 15:47:57 +0000

A Student Response From:

Akyra

"My motherland that you step on

It is the feeling of getting your hair done early in the morning
Pulling and stretching
Tears falling down your face but ribbons and plastic ball chongos make it better
Colorful
Distracting

I think of my existence, my culture
Where was I really from
Vivid colors and a storm approaching
I'm on my homeland, at least half, or half of half

Thinking about what it would be like if my ancestors continued their legacies

Strawberry picking
My grandmother was a farmworker since she was about six years old

I think of my ancestors and the future generations
My dad being in AIM and the brown berets
Carrying on the legacy
Dedicating my life to the betterment of the future generations
Beating heart
Being red, being brown, being white
I’m screaming the echoes of distant drum songs
Riding the rain clouds to a river

This is my motherland you’re walking on
The red dirt shows our skin and our blood
Still new, colonization still here
Racialized into oblivion

My motherland that speaks into the wind
Also shares her heart
Listen to her when she says
landback

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Week 4 B2

jasonROSEBSIMPSONadmin — Wed, 01 Sep 2021 14:37:53 +0000

A Student Response From:

gt

I've been looking forward to this fall all summer, it seems. I've been excited to experience the breath of fresh air and the newness of going back to class and seeing everyone again. But it seems that now that I'm back it's become more about dread and waiting than it is about enjoying the collaboration and spirit of others. I dont know why it feels like this- but fall itself feels unfamilair this year. Not the same autumn that handed out cider and stomped pumpkins. It doesent have the same gifts it once did. Instead it's approaching (and it is here) like a someone bringing their own problems, their own worries, to share with you. Rather than offering a way for yours to float away. I feel bad about it, honestly. Not realizing that I was supposed to offer something back to it; and now being stuck with autumns dread of it's own appearance.

The post Week 4 B2 appeared first on UNMAM.ART Rose B.Simpson: Seminar.

Week 3 B4

jasonROSEBSIMPSONadmin — Wed, 01 Sep 2021 14:04:54 +0000

A Student Response From:

Armelle

A dear friend of mine is going through a divorce and has started gravitating towards reading self help books and receiving daily affirmations from an app called “iam” to get through the days. I tried the app in solidarity but found the affirmations to be a little too saccharine for my taste.

“I am imperfect, but I love and accept all that I am “

“I am going to achieve all of my dreams”

“I will use these hard time to make me a better person”

I opted instead to read The Subtle Art of not Giving an eff by Mark Manson. The inclusion of the expletive in this supposed self help book made it easier on my pallet. In this book, he talks in Chapter 7 about how failure is the way forward, “improvement at anything is based on thousands of tiny failures, and the magnitude of your success is based on how many times you’ve failed at something” (p. 150).

Somewhere along the way we have been afraid of failure or try to avoid it at all costs. Manson suggests changing the value and its metric. Or as you so eloquently put it “deconstruct the concept of failure entirely” and “shift my focus.“

The more you fail, the more likely you are to succeed. Success comes from improvement and improvement comes from failure. Edison tried many prototypes before getting the lightbulb right - and even that is changing today! It's known that Post-it accidentally created a low tack adhesive when trying to find a really strong one.

How many bright ideas (pun intended to light bulb reference) do we now jot down on a note (clap back to post-its) that may or may never “succeed” (whatever that means).

Bring on the failures!

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Week 2 Fiona

jasonROSEBSIMPSONadmin — Fri, 20 Aug 2021 16:57:57 +0000

A Student Response From:

Fiona

I am a butterfly, half released from my chrysalis. (She is actually a moth, but butterflies are much more loved and that is all she wishes to be. Did you know that some moths can avoid being echolocated by bats because, at just the right moment, they click their organs? She thinks this is beautiful too, but it is a quiet thought.)

Chrysalides are made from a butterfly’s past life; it’s the husk of a caterpillar that houses the change of its lifetime, but for moths it’s different. A moth’s cocoon is a silk wrapping of its own creation: a self-made home. I think I am equally stuck in either metaphorical stage of metamorphosis. I am noise, I am color. A contradiction of exoskeleton and jelly. Born in the night, I almost died. I almost died. But here I am. (She thinks of death, but it is life that consumes her. Maybe when the sun rises and her wings dry, she can fly. However, now in the night, she is still healing from the ordeals of change.

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Week 1 C3

jasonROSEBSIMPSONadmin — Wed, 18 Aug 2021 22:34:54 +0000

A Student Response From:

Christopher

Suddenly, I'm in this space with you and a group of people I don't know. Like stars, though, far away, traveling light-messages; a presence that lingers in the glow of the screen. The stars I see are images of the past. You are always changing. So am I. And within that subtle passing I feel understood by a sense of freedom. It doesn't matter. In the best way.

I'm grateful for the experience of resonating with what I perceive as a wakeful freedom of choosing instead of reacting. Blissful, easy exhale. I get to feel my feelings, and you get to feel yours.

What is important?

I have been learning how to trust my stomach, preferring to shift through sensations with unfamiliar hands as I reach through my guts. I don't understand most things this way. My search has moved from trying to intellectualize my way to security to surrendering to silent knowing.

Pleasure is also located in my stomach. Feels like humming. I sometimes hum unintentionally when I take a bite of food. Now, I remind myself to hum because I was made aware by friends that I do this, so I stopped myself. Humming is good.