If there was a hill I'd die on, it'd be called Craft. It's something that occupies my thoughts, more than most things. That's evident by the existence of this blog: I'm always writing and thinking about my experiences in the world (as a person, as an artist) and how they feed into my creative practice.

But I hardly ever talk about creative craft as its own thing. There are reasons why. Partly because the soundbyte diet of social media doesn't fit my style of ruminating (I don't make zingers; I go on and on and on...) and partly because if you do try to soundbyte anything that approaches advice, it'll be poorly-received even if it goes viral, because a 280 character limit makes every word sound like a rule of law. Plus the online art environment has shifted dramatically.

And I don't adhere to the popular idea of what craft should be to an Artist or Writer anyway. Not in a Too Cool way. It just so happens.

Some thoughts on making things exist. The joy and fear of it all. A sequel to this post on Passion and Work and Adulthood.

So I've moved on to the next stage of my Unofficial Residency. I'm back to doing Freelance Work. (Nov-Dec is one of my busiest seasons of the year. Of course I wouldn't miss it.)

Though I only completed like, almost 3/4 of what I set out to do during the first phase of the residency, I'm grateful for whatever progress I am able to make. Afterall, any headway during 2020 is a miracle! Luckily there's a second phase to catch up on things. So fingers crossed I can get some more in.

I will confess that I've always had the desire to be recognised by an Institution: schools, libraries, museums, universities, you know. Buildings. Bodies. I want my books to be analysed and mined formally, to bridge the gap between the public and institutions, to educate, to inspire joy in learning. I love the world. I love the platonic ideal of academia: to chase a subject wholeheartedly, to share and introduce to outsiders the joy and madness and wonder that comes from seeing something unexpected in a different way, to find interdisciplinary solidarity in fellow nerds. Though I've officially left academia to pursue a career that more aligns with my way of storytelling, of learning and teaching, I'm still a scholar at heart. I want to be a part of this network, because it is where I feel most at home in.

And yet recently I was reminded of the Reason why I left academia, and it's forced me to reconsider my desire to be Institutionally Recognised, if it's even worth it.