girl artistic process who?
thoughts on neurodivergence and artistic process
i’ve been spending the last couple of weekend days holed up in my room. my “room” being my studio apartment and more specifically, my bed.
i spend a lot of my time thinking about my artistic process when it’s time to tweak a resume or artist statement. one of the first things that i was taught in grad school was how to write about how you work. for me, i had to direct some energy to how i like to learn and work in the first place. my artistic process is about controlling my body like a science experiment. what better environment to observe myself than my room? what did she eat today? how did she sleep? how many times did she get up and forget what the task was? take notes.
there’s a quote i like. “the revolution will be from bed.” it is a mantra for disability activists who speak up about palestine and all of its interconnected issues. it imagines how to participate in the “revolution” if you are not physically able to. if you cannot get into the streets, what is your role in an uprising?
i deal with depression, paralyzing anxiety, and undiagnosed neurodivergence. i’ve never sought diagnosis with my neurodivergent traits specifically because i’ve “made it this far.” it’s more than likely i have adhd because it runs in my family and is a genetic disorder. unfortunately for reasons outside of my control, people around me did not see my adhd as a potential hinderance to my success. for example, many ballet teachers i had used to just say “it’s fine, that’s just her personality, she’s got the body of a beautiful dancer anyway” when i would drift off in class. when they were really frustrated with me though, because of my “potential” they would hurl insults to my intelligence.
in addition, many people who are autistic have told me they think i am. these same people have also said to me that having a piece of paper that says you are autistic does not always serve you well. it can get you some things that you need, but it can also be used against you. it would be nice to have a piece of paper that validates all of the frustration i feel and explains what makes me unable to do some things that appear to be easier for other people. but it costs a lot of money. thousands of dollars! not typically covered by insurance!
one of the biggest issues i’ve come across since moving to chicago after grad school is making decisions. i am a teacher to support myself as an artist. ultimately my goal is to be using money i make to take classes in the city and meet people i want to work with. i find myself completely stagnated by making decisions about where to spend my time and money, and i find myself completely relying on myself to do what i love to do. it has gotten to the point where i would rather use independent studio time than spend my money on a class with other people, because that way i am only depending on myself to make a class “worth it.” this is unfairly because of classes i’ve gone to in the past that have been disappointing or not as fun as i’d hoped.
i also have a lot of options working part time, living in a huge, diverse city.
have you ever asked an adhd person or a neurodivergent person where they want to eat? maybe you don’t know anyone who is aware of themselves in that way. maybe you can relate. have you ever been asked where you want to eat? if it’s always easy for you, bravo, whoopty woop.
what about having the opportunity to take any class you want across the entire city of chicago? and you have “this much” to spend. and you’re tired from grad school and don’t have a car and not many dancer friends who are around to keep you in check?
as i’m writing this, in my head i’m thinking like boo hoo, adanya! so you can’t “choose” a class. you can’t “decide” on something. that’s not oppressive.
but let’s talk about that. why do i automatically think that way?
it’s because america talks about people with disabilities like they are lazy. i say america because i’m going to start talking about the country i live in and call her out by name. america talks about people who take their time to do something like they are something to be frustrated and angry about, because time is money. time is wasted youth, which is also money. i’m sitting in my bed looking at my sink full of dishes and my laundry pile on the floor and the mail full of credit card ads that i haven’t sorted and my old coffee mug and my unhung wall decor and my full recycling bin and my dirty bathroom sink and
i’m looking at all of those things like they are something i have to fix about myself because i’ve grown up thinking that not immediately figuring out how to organize all these things means that i’m not moving forward enough in my life and i haven’t gotten out of my “lazy” habits.
anyway, i will pay someone $10 to wash the dishes in my sink. dm me.
back to the revolution being from bed. what is important to me about saying “the revolution will be from bed” is it educates people on different ways to participate in protesting the moves being made on their lives. we’re living in times where being detached from current events means you really gotta try to be burying your head in the sand. if you are one of those people i just gotta ask, because i don’t believe you. do you think things are going well????
giving people options and resources to call their senators, organize from their room, educating people, spreading the word on social media, etc. is valuable. it gives people new permissions for how they think about themselves and what they can offer. that is a kind of strength, and a strength for when you do not feel strong at all.
my artistic process is often from bed. it is usually from my home.
bed
i like to make a little nest for myself. i have about seven pillows and a weighted blanket. my television is propped up WAY too close for my liking but it is directly at the foot of my bed. whenever i’m trying to accomplish any task at all i have on youtube nonsense or a twitch stream in the background. the noise helps me type and it has a similar effect to going to a cafe and being surrounded by people noise (i will not be doing that today. it is 8 degrees). i have a nightstand where i like to keep at least two beverages, usually water and coffee or a kombucha. i have bedside table books; right now by bedside table book is iq84 by haruki murakami. multiple screens going at once is interesting to me. i find it funny to realize how absurd it is that i’m pretending i can pay attention to multiple things at once like this. it is a layered senatorial activity. directing people’s attention to multiple somewhat uncomfortable layers of stimuli is something that appears in my choreography.
brain
from day to day i probably have four or five tasks that i’m attempting to accomplish at once, especially if i’m teaching. i like to do them all at once. i feel inspired by trying to do many things at once. i oscelate from task to task each morning and in a way, it helps me feel more excited about the day. what makes it interesting is that i might not finish the task and i may move onto something else and forget about it altogether. tasks can be things like washing any stray dishes, answering morning emails, making a grocery store list, writing a substack, watching a video essay, reading,
eggs
my breakfast depends on if i have leftovers from the night before and what i feel like eating. many times my breakfast is leftover dinner. sometimes it’s oatmeal. sometimes it’s eggs and toast, eggs and avocado, avocado and toast, eggs and avocado and toast. i make my eggs scrambled usually. i like to eat an egg combo with a fruit. lately i’ve been eating sumo oranges and dipping them in lemon yogurt because of this girl on an instagram account i follow. i make coffee from a moka pot.
at the end of an artistic process sometimes there’s something tangible that comes out of it. i have started to think about mine as a vessel that can contain ideas that bubble over and become something, but sometimes there’s no fizz.
perhaps (i’ve been loving the word perhaps lately) it is okay if you began writing and you had a point and you’re not sure what it is anymore.
meditating on myself and living organically makes my art possible. i remember when i was making my mfa thesis, a work i was incredibly proud of, so much of the process involved me going to the studio and laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. i watched movies, listened to music, played video games, spent time outside, as well as wrote and i danced. what makes what i do happen is feeding myself in multiple ways.
it is an immense privilege to have the time to think. to have the time to allow your brain to wander? priceless. graduate school gave me that. i will remember not to take it for granted during times in my life where it is possible to be wandering.
i was recently asked by someone while revisiting grad school as an alum, “are you making work? are you making anything?”
i can’t lie! it struck me, and i felt sensitive about it. i was not remembering what i’m saying now, which is that the work i’m doing on myself does not feel like work. it feels like i’m just suffering, or playing video games, or sleeping, or teaching kids, or being “lazy.”
as i’m revisiting this exact writing after a couple of days, i’m not attached to it anymore. what’s beautiful about that detachment is i can move onto something else, i can give it almost no thought at all, and that is practicing patience with myself and compassion.
putting out absolute garbage is work. making work as an artist should not be that precious. making decisions gets easier as you practice making them.
perhaps my artistic decision of the day is this photo of my cat.
Nice piece. Keep going. For me thee revolution is from my lazy boy recliner