Several months ago, I was doing everything I could to avoid wrapping up a major edit on my forthcoming Geraldine Hart novella, so I hatched a concept that was more or less the opposite of what I was meant to be working on. Add to that the continual distress I’d seen expressed by myself and other creatives at their own lack of motivation and self assuredness that creating is an okay activity to partake in (the world is largely horrible in America right now), it occurred to me a group project might be fun, since it was, by nature, the opposite of editing in solitude, consumed by only my own thoughts based on the world I alone was living in, without only characters keeping me company.
At the time, an artist I admire was in the throes of creating miniature sets for a short film project and it struck me that things can also be large.
So I declared to my family, “Exquisite Corpse!” I was going to make a giant flip book full of art by folks I care for and admire dearly, to offer them a space for whimsy and collaboration and community based off an exceedingly whimsical Surrealist party game.
The first step of the project was to track down willing participants. Which was actually quite easy. Honestly the enthusiasm was shockingly powerful. I used some gift card birthday money and bought the wood I needed to cut up and assign to each person who choose between head, torso, legs and drove around town passing them out and doing the best explaining I could. I even made a zine. It pretty much worked.
Then I waited, and painted. And hung out with my parents (both of whom participated) while the three of us painted. Enjoying the company, and excuse to leave the dining room table covered in paint and brushes and reference books.
Realizing I should probably consider the cover situation, I hit up my friend Valerie and she knocked it out of the park.
After a month, the panels started coming in. And the “figure it out” part began in earnest. Because I’d conceived of a gigantic twelve panel book made out of wood with the intention of becoming an art installation gallery patrons could interact with.
When I say I used an ENTIRE tube of E6000, I mean an ENTIRE tube. I also did about a dozen sketches trying to picture it. Brainstormed about twenty ways I could have done things differently, but managed to wrestle it into existence in time for a gallery show curated by Abby McNett, entitled “Refracted Light: Finding Beauty in Brokenness”.
My kiddo provided his own art for a portion of the cover. He came up with the idea, chose the section to paint, and it turned out extremely well. It was a proud moment when he asked if he could be part of the project. I’m so glad I had a space to fit him into it!
The opening itself was an immensely joyful experience. Almost all of the contributors were able to make it to the opening night, and I had so much fun seeing the excitement they brought to the project, turning the pages to show their own work, and enjoying the different sets made with the other contributors.
There are about twenty things I could have adjusted, tightened, etc. but it came out perfectly imperfect. Whimsical and new.
I cannot thank my contributors enough. You all are amazing and wonderful and talented.
Will I do this exact project again? Almost certainly not.
Will I do many more projects that involve wrangling my artist friends into commissioned silly things? Absolutely yes.
Thank you for your time,
Jes
P.S. You read this far! So click this link and use the password “wonder” to play with the exquisite corpse yourself.