This summer heat has reminded me of 2016 when my solo journey was two weeks at an artist's residency. I applied and was accepted to Artcroft https://artcroft.org a sixty-six acre Kentucky farm and working space for artists of various mediums. The application was lengthy and required several references. Not only would I work on a writing project--my first memoir, I'd perform a community service which would be speaking to groups. Residents would share the kitchen space and help with tending the animals and garden. I grew up on a farm, so working hard in the heat of July was familiar. I let them know this and that I especially loved cows.
I had mixed feelings when I set out on my road trip to Bourbon County, Kentucky--about 35 miles from Lexington. It sounded like a packed schedule to do all those farm chores, socialize with fellow artists, write, and then do presentations. Was I up for all of that? Would I be exhausted from my two week residency and need a vacation afterwards?
I arrived to my lodging in the property gate house. I was surprised that there were no other cars. The man who'd responded to my application and follow-up emails, Robert told me he'd leave the door open and would bring a key later.
There was no one else inside the house with a kitchen and living area downstairs and two bedrooms and full bath up. The odd thing was that the only air conditioning unit was in the upstairs bathroom. How would I manage without central air? Growing up in our farm house, we didn't have it either but that was when I was young and used to box fans.
I walked around outside and only heard cows in the distance. There was no sign of farm animals on the property and no sign of a garden. Had I been mislead? I had a sinking feeling about my two weeks, about what I'd gotten myself into.
Later, Robert came by and I learned that he was the creator, administrator, and caretaker of Artcroft--his labor of love to the arts. They'd had to sell the cows several years before and they'd stopped having a garden. They were in the process of change, moving the program to downtown Millersburg, where they owned multiple buildings facing the town square. I was the last one who'd stay in the gate house; a couple was moving in the day after I left. Robert told me that he and his wife, Maureen lived at the back of the property and would check in on me. He was warm, friendly, and had the voice of Burl Ives.
" I feel a little guilty not having work to do, nothing to give back," I told him.
"All you need to do is write," he said.
No one had ever told me that.
I relaxed into the quiet country house, finding that if I got up early in the morning I could walk the rolling grounds before it was too hot.
When I returned to the house, the kitchen was still cool enough that I could write at the table with my bouquet of thistle that was plentiful on the property.
In the quiet of that place, I was able to really focus on sections that were emotionally draining, getting the whole truth of my memoir down on the page. I took breaks during the day to go to area sites, had brunch with Robert and Maureen on Sunday, and chatted with staff at the local library--but otherwise, my interaction was with my book. In the evening, the air conditioner, with the help of a fan, made it possible to sleep in that upstairs bedroom. Throughout my stay, I was able to push through and get a lot done because all I had to do was write.
Artcroft wasn't what I expected; it was what I needed.
Recently, my niece Emily learned that she'd been accepted to a two week Literary Arts Residency at Craigardan in the Adirondack Mountains of New York. She and I have shared a passion for writing and have previously been in the same critique group. I'm happy for her to have this opportunity.
On Craigardan's website http://www.craigardan.org it states that their primary aim is to "provide uninterrupted time and space to work in a supportive community of artists and makers." The participants' only responsibility is to do a talk or reading to fellow participants and the public; nothing is said about tending animals or working in a garden đŸ™‚
To have time away to focus solely on your craft is truly a gift. To be given permission to "just write" or just create--no matter your medium, is so freeing. I hope Emily will find that to be true as she pushes through on her novel and lets others take care of her elementary age boys.
Do you have a passion that is calling you to totally focus? Is there a way you can allocate time and space to nurture you while you dive deep into your work? I encourage you to find a way to do this through programs that exist or by making your own place of artist residency. It may not be something you've ever thought of, but could be what you really need. Artcroft was that for me, and for the farm girl within, it was right for me to be the last resident to stay on that sixty six acres, where I allowed the rhythms of the countryside to guide me on my daily path.
Best to you,
Connie
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