I know of an old house,
with crumbling patterned wallpaper and rusting photo frames.
Somehow, it holds its ground while continuing to burn in flames.
It consumes those within;
closing its doors behind all those who once curiously came in.
Abandoned for a while now
and forgotten by outsiders,
this house
is not
empty.
It traps its stories inside.
Every mirror reflecting its past glory and ticking clocks recounting its pride.
All those moments gone and memories lost are found within this house.
So I enter hoping to remember;
hoping to reminisce.
And at first,
the sight of old corduroy couches brought me back.
I know these steps, I know these floors.
I know this dining room window light.
And i’ve missed it.
If I could bottle up the way the sun hit the walls every morning
and drink it for breakfast
I would.
I felt comfort in the arms of the past,
trying to make each and every memory last.
But there were holes.
Unfamiliar corners
and new scents
that kept appearing.
Shadows tainting my precious memories
like invasive vines wrapping tightly around a tree.
I was suffocating.
The more time I spent in this house searching
the more it took from me,
until I had to face what I tried to ignore.
Sometimes, what’s lost shouldn’t be looked for.
another thing i really enjoy writing about is connection. and while this is a very broad topic that tons of people enjoy writing about, and many people in general strive to understand, it still has its interesting aspects. there’s so many ways to approach understanding connections, and we can find ways to translate these methods and processes of thought over to many (if not, all) other displays of connection that are seemingly unrelated.
i’ve realized that i often times glorify perfect human connection, and this forces me to neglect entire aspects of my relationship with another person, work of art, myself, etc. i often times try to assign blame to myself, the other person, or both for the flaws that exist in the relationship, when in reality, trying to foster perfect connection is virtually impossible. we can get lucky in our lives and find people we “click” with, or overcome obstacles in our relationships that enables them to grow for the better, but what does it really mean to connect?
i feel that a connection isn’t just about similarities, but it’s also about the ways in which you challenge them and they challenge you; butting heads, trying to get past each other’s walls, the things we empathize with and the things we could never understand. it’s becoming increasingly interesting to think about in the context of 2020, and the ways in which i think about the people, institutions and systems (created by people) that harm people with my identities.
anyway — that’s all a part of it. that’s why i believe there are infinite ways to connect with someone or something. this concept gave way to this poem, in which i approach my relationship with my mom from a place i never have before with a experiences that i’ve ever thought about deeply until recently.
taken in the law quad last year. by me.
~~~~~~
the cramps come dance on my mama’s legs at night
setting light in her thighs, she stomps them out in the hallway.
when the cramps throw a dagger at her, my door flies
open. the bat signal we negotiated with having said nothing.
my hands pressure the bed. my hands, a servant to thee.
i came running from the shadows, the forest of my dreams
to hook my arm in yours in this hallway drenched in drowsy silhouettes and walk.
i pledge to rid the body of all that is wrong right next to you.
I know it’s been a stressful week for many of us, between election results and many people moving back home during the stay-at-home order. I hope that you are all able to find a way to relax this weekend and perform some rituals of self-care. Do a face mask, drink some tea, go on a run, or make a nice dinner for yourself. You deserve it. Beyond that, I hope that this article can provide a space for you to think about something else for a few minutes, easing your stress even just a little bit. So, without further ado, let’s get into this week’s conversation.
Courtesy of the Design Lab website
I had the pleasure of speaking with Erica Ervin, Technology & Media Production Specialist at the Shapiro Design Lab. What is the Design Lab, you might ask? Erica describes it as “an engaged learning community focused on interdisciplinary collaboration and peer to peer learning and teaching that offers a variety of spaces and tools for everyone on campus.” It’s located on the first floor of the Shapiro Undergraduate Library (or the UGLi, as you may know it better) and houses a variety of tools like 3D printers, a letterpress, and equipment for recording and graphic or video editing. There is even a repurposed vending machine that distributes current student works, like poetry, small 3D prints, stickers, and more!
Courtesy of the Design Lab website
As someone who has used the Design Lab myself, I want to stress that the value of this resource is not just in the physical tools they provide, but in the incredibly knowledgeable and energetic staff as well. If you have a creative idea but you’re not sure where to start to make it a reality, chances are the Design Lab staff can help you. They can provide consultations for students, staff, faculty, and the community on projects ranging from community citizen science projects to converting physical media to be digitally accessible to storytelling, including podcasts.
Courtesy of the Design Lab website
Given the changing nature of creativity and collaboration on campus, the staff at the Design Lab have been trying to gauge the needs of campus right now and how they can best provide assistance. Although their main workshop and PIE spaces (standing for prototype, invent, explore) are closed right now, they offer virtual consultations for many types of projects and can help direct you to where physical tools may be accessible right now. Additionally, their media production rooms are currently available to reserve for individual use, with the recording microphones being quarantined between users. The staff can also help you make the most of your own recording equipment, including best practices for conducting and recording interviews via video call.
Erica also left me with a beautiful reminder when I asked her how her own experience with the arts on campus has changed this semester, saying,
“It’s a little bit trickier for me to consume the art that’s being created on campus. But I don’t think that means that art has stopped. I think that the current situation has brought even more creativity to the way that people are not only making art or making things in general, but also in the way that they’re putting it out to the world, putting it out for others to see. They’re finding these new solutions to get things out and that’s really exciting.”
And I think that is so true. Although we may not be able to view and share art together like we are used to, it’s important to remember that it has not disappeared. It is still here, pulsing through campus as powerfully – or even, maybe, more so – than ever before.
If you want to get involved with the Shapiro Design Lab or use their resources, be sure to check out their website hereor email them at shapirodesignlab@umich.edu. And if you’re interested in using their media production rooms, here is the Canvas training you’ll need to go through before you can reserve a time.
That’s all for now! Come back next week to hear about Creatives of Color and how they are adjusting to this semester on campus.
Stay safe,
Lucy
*Please note, quotes have been edited minimally for clarity and reading purposes, with the intention to maintain all of the meaning and voice of the author*
this whole year has brought about many hours of reflection for me and my life. one thing i’ve been thinking about a lot and trying to process is my experience as a cancer survivor. i was diagnosed with stage 4 hodgkin’s lymphoma at 16 years old (my junior year of high school). while i’m in remission now, the trauma i have tied to that experience is something that comes up again and again — especially during something as stressful as a global pandemic. the precautions i take to protect myself and others from the virus (like wearing masks, washing my hands often, disinfecting everything i come in contact with) feels eerily similar to the precautions i had to take while protecting myself from infections while being treated with chemotherapy and radiation.
i don’t talk much about my experiences, and part of the reason for that is because, well, it isn’t pretty. having cancer, being treated for it, fearing that it will come back, and having a deadly virus going around that only intensifies my anxiety isn’t something i can talk about in a few minutes or hours and be done with. i think about it all the time. and i take the pandemic very seriously mostly because of my fears.
i just wanted to let anyone who is struggling with processing or navigating this pandemic know that they are not alone, and things REALLY suck at the moment and it’s okay to acknowledge that. it’s okay to not be okay, and it’s okay to fear the uncertain future ahead of all of us. it’s okay to talk through your feelings with people you love andcare about, including yourself. this poem, ‘blacklight’, is one of my many attempts to do so. fun fact: this is a contrapuntal poem, which means that it can be read in at least two different ways 😉
~~~~~~
that moment when you look your eyes don’t adjust to the darkness
it’s just dark and thick wet black
and i tell everyone i know it’s just my shadow it’s just the back of the throat, i say
and they believe me and no one asks further questions
but i’ve been trying to figure out, like,
how do i come to terms with the tumors growing in my body?
how long have they been there?
was there a such thing as light before the universe?
