I wore an Easter dress when I was nine or ten that I especially cared for: It was a knee-length cream sheath patterned with light pink roses. When I’d outgrown it and it came time to donate, I pinned a note on the dress that said, “Take care of this dress. A little girl loved it.”
Earlier this week, I read Alicia Kennedy’s newsletter On Creativity, and at the part where she writes about romanticizing your life, the above memory sprang out at me. Nine-year-old me thrilled at the idea of a little girl finding my dress and note in the thrift shop. I would have been thrilled to find a dress with a note at a thrift shop).
I felt in tune with beauty, whimsy, and emotion. Maybe it’s more accurate to say I cared about and noticed beauty, whimsy, and emotion. As I got older, I paid more attention to being smart, quick, and sharp, which lead right into choosing journalism school over an English degree because I was afraid I’d get lost working on a novel and never leave my house.
“How many forms of creativity can we sustain in one life at once? It seems the answer is really very many, if we let ourselves and if the world doesn’t squeeze us of all our energy, all our care and enthusiasm.” —Alicia Kennedy
I felt the pressure from society to care about things more important than pinning a note onto a dress. I chose to get married and have children, accumulating the responsibilities that come along with increased care work.
Also, this past week I read Sarah McColl on maintenance work as art, which echoes Alicia’s words on the unlimitedness of creativity. It’s our world, our 24 hours, our fears that limit creativity.
“Maintenance work disappears, but the time diary forced my attention to how much I ‘do’ each day even when I don’t ‘do Art.’” —Sarah McColl
Inspired by Sarah’s accounting of her time, here’s some of the (invisible unless made visible) maintenance work I did today while thinking through this newsletter:
Wake son for an early doctor’s appt brush teeth get dressed feed my daughters and myself breakfast take vitamins clean up drink water do yoga coordinate with family for my brother’s birthday festivities order flowers listen to my son tell me about his appt reply to texts remind children of chores coordinate with my husband sit still and eat a small treat finish work tasks eat lunch slice mango spell words for my son answer the door bell unpack an order delegate wrapping gifts
A few weeks ago, Subrina Heyink posted Part 1 of her series on developing good taste and have been thinking about it ever since.
“Referencing in fashion draws on years of scouring and revisiting fashion design and runway archives, watching older and new movies, watching tv shows, listening to more music, learning about history, art and music, and, most underrated, observing.” —Subrina Heyink
Subrina writes about fashion, yet this necessity of observation seems to extend to every aspect of life.
Not only will what I notice / care about / observe shape my life, my children’s lives, my writing, and my soul — so will the things that go unnoticed. I’m working on an essay examining how or why the past is ignored (in family, farming, and climate activism) and how that can keep us in the same systems that have caused damage.
“Much of political discussion in the world’s rich countries—whether about the country’s own racial politics or its relationship to the “developing world,” simply prefers not to explain what our present social reality is built to do.” —Olúfhemi O Táíwò
Sometimes — I simply prefer not to notice that I’m too exhausted to write. I prefer not to notice that my interests are shaped by my perception of how much my culture values those interests. I get confused about why care and noticing are so vital. Why do you care so much?
I don’t know why I forget sometimes that so much comes back to care and the effort of noticing again and again. Instead of creativity being confined to making art that is recognizable, it can be expressed by caring about whoever (and whatever) we care for.
But when this idea is made global, I see dangerous realities. Care and noticing are all about interdependence, which directly opposes the ideas of American independence. The only people who were able to think they were independent were those taking advantage of others. Someone is always doing the maintenance work, with different levels of disrespect, injustice, or violence keeping them in that position.
So, on second thought, I do know why I sometimes forget that care is the key — it’s because there is pressure to not upend the status quo. If we all remembered to care and notice, the parts of our society which thrive on our distraction, exhaustion and exploitation would be in jeopardy. The powerful in our world are more comfortable if we forget to pay attention.
Reading - I finished White Cat, Black Dog by Kelly Link will be reading it again. It was the perfect book to have bedside and read a story at night or in the morning. Next up is The Red-Headed Pilgrim by Kevin Maloney. Teenage angst and longing in the PNW. Right up my alley. Also still reading Reconsidering Reparations and just cracked open Christina Sharpe’s new book Ordinary Notes.
Writing - Emails. Edits on a poem. An essay draft (rough, early days.)
Cooking - Roasted eggplant, broccoli, onions, etc. I’m switching things up and throwing the vegetables bare into the hot oven (~450) for 15+ minutes depending on what I’m cooking and how small I cut it. Then, when cooked, I drizzle on a nicer olive oil and salt (+other seasonings) while hot. I’m liking it.