[or, The Year in Which I Bummed Everyone Out Hardcore]
The 1st project in my How To Be Sad? collection is officially happening in 2 days. Pleased to report that the forest fire of panic smoldering through me atm is actually quite contained. Like 45% or so.
The Cruel Optimism Yard Sale will take place at the LAABF (at MOCA!) 2/17/16 from 4-7PM at the WCCW booth.
As the inaugural project comes to fruition, ideas for some of the other 14 are starting to take shape. Half are still a bit nebulous; I've only a goal or a nugget of a plan, but need a direction. About half a dozen though are close to ready. Exciting/terrifying!
The next project will most likely be my interview zine, Where Did You Learn To Be Sad? & I've got a good list of potential interviewees. Another one currently on my mind is my Performing Sadness Online project, which is fueled by my fascination of teens performing sadness on various social media platforms. Berlant writes that our attachment to the political is our attachment to being in the world, and forms of losing control are forms of being social/being in the world. In the space of the political we hold out hope for a good non-sovereignty. The act of democratizing sadness in the public sphere-- e.g., posting a photo on Instagram of razor blades in a toilet with the caption "100 likes before midnight and I'll flush my stash #noonecares"-- is so intriguing. Another will play off my space art reenactments. Anyway, getting ahead of myself.
I also decided against recording my HTBS? progress + process publicly. So as not to focus too heavily on the performance of it all, to not shape things towards perceived outside interpretations. Getting into the meat of the matter (or rather, just taking the first steps towards it) has already begun to seep into other aspects of my life. A haze that creeps in and settles on my daily motions, sounds, thoughts. The reason I structured my sadness study in this project form, was so I could do it "with" some audience, towards a shared goal, so it wouldn't just be me in the bathtub at 3AM staring at the ceiling and falling into a "mood." So if you've run into me lately and said "hi" only to receive a bewildered 'what huh what' look from me, know that I'm not always here. Here, but not here. You know. It's unsettling to willingly go back to the ghost state, but hopefully, like a final video game level, once I've mastered how to fight my way out, I won't need to return for a while. Also I might come back with a reward, so, here's to hopin'.