I started painting these portals late last winter. It was around when I started some really critical medications & supplements for my long covid and when I was also the sickest. I wasn't sure if any of them were going to work, and a lot of the most useful ones needed to be slowly titrated up to the therapeutic dose. I'm nearly at the therapeutic doses, 9 months later, my baseline has definitely improved, but I'm still a far cry from where I was before I got covid. That being said, there aren't any medications actually FDA approved for my condition. A lot of these are experimental and/or off label, come with some pretty sucky side effects, and are pretty expensive (insurance doesn't cover everything). The portals were a way to process all of this. But I'm endlessly grateful for the privileges I do have, especially that I even have medical care available to me. One of the more insidious cruelties of the endless bombing, displacement, and cutting off from the rest of the world that the people of Gaza have experienced for the last 65(+) days is the subsequent and systemic lack of health care - from bombing hospitals and killing health care workers and sick and disabled people to the impossibility of getting much needed medications, anesthesia, medical supplies, etc into Gaza. Infections and disease are killing people, too. This is all part of the plan, this is how genocide works, and it is indisputably horrifying. Someone was comparing the events of October 7 to what happened here on Sep 11, and while they were talking about the horrors committed/witnessed in Israel, I think actually a clearer parallel lies in the responses. The xenophobic, nationalistic, revenge-filled hate towards a large group of people/country/religion and the inability to see the nuance that the "revenge" is so far out of line with what originally happened. To be clear, I don't condone revenge, I'm just working out the metaphor here. And of course, there are limits to the metaphor, and it doesn't quite align in the way that the people of Palestine have been living under apartheid oppression for decades and generations. My portals are a gateway, a transport to another dimension. Not necessarily one where I'm suddenly healed and "back to normal." Regardless (and to paraphrase Nicki Kattoura's moving and heartbreaking Instagram post from December 10, 2023 - see below), every time I take my meds, I think about Gaza. It's the least I can do. We must sustain our horror and our hope for an end to this. And to all genocides. If this is the match that lit your flame of radicalism or if you've been burning long and hard, maybe for decades, don't let the cynicism, the comfort we have here, or the fear put out your light. Every time you find another comrade, the fire burns brighter. Someday our blaze will outshine the real terrorists: the war criminals, the nuclear zealots, the fascists, the oligarchs. My portals are a gateway, a transport to another dimension. Not necessarily one where I'm suddenly healed and "back to normal." Yes, in moments of despair and grief, I do want that, but in clearer moments, what I want is to exist in another dimension where my energy-limiting disabilities aren't a limitation but an adaptation or even an advantage. Where I can thrive at this slower pace. Where my disabilities become new abilities, and all the grief I have transforms into knowledge and wisdom. Through the portal, ableism is extinct, and everyone is valued and necessary and vital to creating a place that accommodates everyone. *This* portal, though, is a way to push those visions even further. Through this portal, there is an end to genocide and apartheid. Permanently, lastingly. Conflicts are resolved through reconciliation and finding shared understanding, not through war, terror, military might, and force. If you want to see this portal and the other 109 portals, they are on exhibition in the Currents: Adaptation, Brilliance, and Joy show, up through February 25, 2024, at the Minnesota Museum of American Art.
0 Comments
(Don't get my Newsletter? Click Here to Fix that!)Hello friends & supporters, I have a few updates to share, but first, I know your heart has been heavy, too, these days as we bear witness to the tragedy of yet another genocide, this time in real time as the world is witness. I’ve been supporting Palestinian liberation for nearly 2 decades, but the horror of what I have seen these past 2 months has been beyond. I know as someone who hasn’t been able to engage in my usual forms of protest (feet in the street), it’s been hard to figure out where to put my energy. I’d like to offer you some ideas, feel free to share yours with me.
It’s also 2023, and I also wish for us that Covid-19 was as extinct as our government acts like it is. Unfortunately, it’s still thriving and mutating. As you likely know, I have Long Covid (read all about it in my last newsletter). I didn’t get Covid at the outset - I had just over 2 years (and 3 vaccines) before I caught it. But it changed my life completely. Not overnight, but gradually, over 6 months, I got sicker, more tired, and able to do less and less. It is from this tragedy/transformation that I have created my newest works, one of which you can see in person at the Minnesota Museum of American Art from December 7, 2023 - February 28, 2024 in downtown St. Paul. Working at a near glacial pace at times, I have been creating artworks from my bed and couch, painting portals of hope and healing onto all of my Rx and supplement bottles (110 at last count!). I hope that you will get a chance to see the work if you are in the Twin Cities - it’s a show that has been carefully curated by emerging curator Drew Maude-Griffen, and features 4 other disabled artists from the region, sharing our “adaptations, brilliance, and joy.” Relatedly, due to the Long Covid, I have been unable to work as a teaching artist (my main income for the past decade and a half) for much of this year or I’ve had to work in an extremely limited and/or modified manner. I’m not sure when or whether I’ll ever be able to return to that kind of work, hauling bins of art supplies around the state, facilitating creative experiences for 30, 60, sometimes 100! kids, teens, and/or adults at a time! It was joyous, inspiring, meaningful work, and I do miss it. But bills still need to be paid, especially my rent (both at my studio and my apartment). The combined rent alone is $1,750 (and 75% of that is my Section 42 rent-subsidized (!) apartment). I share this because I believe in financial transparency; I think our society does not talk about money nearly enough! I haven't yet pursued disability (it's a grueling, demoralizing, discouraging, red tape nightmare of the highest order, especially for those with long covid, as it's not an "official" disability, yet) and honestly, I want to work. Especially as an artist. Making art is healing, though I have to do it in pretty modified ways from how I used to. So one idea I have been working on setting up for months is to have a store on my website to sell art more directly. And I’m so excited for you to check it out! There are…
It would mean the world if you supported me in this effort by buying something, sharing about my work on social media or by sending it to a friend. Navigating this ableist world in a newly disabled body shows me over and over that we can’t do this thing called life alone. Community support is everything, and I thank you from the bottom of my big, huge beating heart for any and all support you have shown me over the last year and a half and going forward as I rebuild my life. I couldn’t have done it // can’t do it without so, so many of you. Take care of yourself and your loved ones. In love and solidarity, Kelley Click below to see a few of the items for sale on my website!
|
Kelley Meisterartistic musings Archives
February 2024
Categories |