*WARNING! Long post*
I remember Jr. High, maybe not like it was yesterday (because it certainly wasn't!)...but I remember it well. I remember going into 7th grade as an uncomplicated, somewhat oblivious kid who liked to climb trees, make art, run around bare foot and, given the opportunity, hop into any body of water no matter how cold it was. My classmates were rather different that I was.
I was lucky enough to be a part of a class that made dedicated, seasoned teachers want to retire. The girls were 13 going on 21 and the boys, well the boys were boys...but if you played a classical instrument, weren't into New Kids on the Block and were more into art and being a tomboy, than into makeup and gossip, you were labeled as totally lame. In 8th grade I became less oblivious and realized that my class was a toxic environment, petty, cliquey and not a place where I felt I fit. Lucky enough, I said, to be a part of this class, because it taught me a few very good lessons.
One, I am not someone who thrives in a cliquey environment and staying in one will, in the end, make me very unhappy. Two, you can always do something else/remove yourself from a situation. Three, true friends will stick by you even if you walk away from the friend group they are a part of (because let's be honest, toxic cliques are more of a social group dynamic rather than toxic individuals).
So why the trip down memory lane, after all it was longer ago than I care to admit... I guess it's because currently, I'm dealing with the same bullshit in my professional life, but unlike my Jr. High classmates, who had their age, hormones, etc. as an excuse, this entity, this professional clique, has no excuse. So I am, yet again, faced with a decision and need to choose a direction for myself, professionally speaking...
For the past five years I've quietly put my heart and soul into my work for a festival. This year is the first year I won't be back. This was not my choice, and to be honest, I'm heartbroken. I tried my best...but I guess (ironically) my best just wasn't good enough...it would have been nice to get some constructive criticism (as a painter I'm very familiar with this method of learning). In most cases I'm not just a hat rack or a pretty face. Growth comes from seeing or being shown what your shortcomings are and having a supportive environment so that you can take steps to improve, to grow, to flourish with this knowledge.
Not only is the loss of this collaborative artistic endeavor painful, but it also hurts that this job was integral to the flow of my personal artistic life. It afforded me the time to paint, while also being able to (mostly) pay my bills...I will miss that freedom of being able to create in the space of time surrounding this work. I will miss the visual and sonic inspiration this event gave my artistic practice. I will also miss leading a team. One of the most rewarding (if not the most rewarding) jobs I've ever had, was leading this team and many of you made the experience such a pleasure. I still look forward to working with you again, elsewhere in the future.
I'm choosing not to dwell on the hurt or confusion of this, because it does not make any sense. Any failings or short comings I had could have been easily solved with a constructive, open, honest and genuine conversation. Having reached out for months to try and set up this meeting and been completely ignored, I am at a loss as to what else I could have done. I am an intelligent enough person to be able to listen, learn and grow...but not being given that chance makes me feel like I am being seen as disposable.
...and I am not disposable.
As one of my favorite sayings goes, "you may be the juiciest, ripest peach in the world but there's always gonna be someone who doesn't like peaches." The small, hurt person in me wants to lash out, to shout angry truths, to expose unprofessionalisms, to elucidate rampant nepotism/cronyism, but the person I try to be (and somewhat fail to be, by including that last sentence) knows it's not worth it...that in doing that (as pleasant as it might feel) I would become a person I could not respect. I refuse to stoop to that level. As Michelle Obama said. "When they go low, we go high." That is my goal, anyway. So instead I will say this...
I'm sorry to all of you I reached out to, back in January about being on the team this year! I think it would have been an amazing team with you all on it! I had so many exciting ideas - new furniture to build, creative, warm and inviting new lighting schemes to design, not to mention resurrecting Oscar the Couch (and maybe adding a Burt and Ernie). I'm truly heartbroken that we won't be working to make some festival magic together.
My hope, in the face of this, is that I was a good coworker to those of you who did work along side me these past five years. I hope that I gave you a chance to grow and flourish as a fellow human being, colleague and friend. I hope that I made you feel seen and appreciated, and not overlooked. I hope that you enjoyed those moments as much as I did. I look back with love at all the amazing moments I've had with you! From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I hope we have more opportunities elsewhere to create and grow artistically together in the future.
