Reclaiming Space for Community

In July, at the close of a Fellowship retreat with the NAS Creative Community Fellows cohort of 2018, I had the serendipitous opportunity to connect with another fellow (Mallory Nezam) over a shared love of blanket forts. At the end of our time together (in this amazing place), we invited the community to construct the physical context for our celebration. Together, we created a blanket fort that provided a cozy and intimate space in which to share our gifts and gratitude with one another.

This experience catalyzed a curiosity about rapid and frugal adaptation of environment. Our inherited spaces–schools, houses, offices, government buildings, etc– hold an insidious power over us. They carry coded messages­–informed by the values of their times–about how we should think and act. They signal who belongs and who does not. I’ve become deeply curious about practices that disrupt these patterns, and counteract a perceived sense of powerlessness related to the built environment–something that plays out in myriad ways in our daily lives and interactions.

How might we reconfigure our spaces to support coherence (health), and connection–both of which feel under attack at the moment?

Blanket forts are a playful and powerful practice through which to explore this question. From this initial inquiry, additional wonderings followed: How do the spaces we inhabit inform our individual and collective identity? How do immersive, aesthetic experiences change the way we relate to each other? What is the effect of these spaces on choice and decision-making?

Coincidentally, the blanket fort co-construction over the summer coincided with a series of conversations and experiments I was (and continue to be) involved in relating to Community. Prompted by our time together in Vermont, and by an article a dear friend wrote about the power of potlucks, I followed an impulse to start a monthly blanket fort community potluck with my colleague María José Giménez. We were curious if the combination of the long-standing social tradition of potlucks and the highly intentional manipulation of the physical context would promote a different kind of engagement, and open up possibility for a qualitatively different kind of conversation. From the beginning, these gatherings have been explicitly intergenerational in nature, inviting people of all ages to join in a space of mutual curiosity.

In August we hosted our first potluck in a community space in one of our local mill buildings (Eastworks). We’ve since moved into a studio space–Fort Future–in the same building, and have engaged in 6 potlucks, thus far–our seventh potluck is on Saturday, February 23, 2019.

From the beginning, we’ve been intentional about experimenting with fabrics, textures, shapes, configurations, and lighting. More recently, we’ve been experimenting with physical enclosures (“forts” made of cardboard) that increase the variety of spaces for sitting, watching, conversing and playing. Instead of describing them, I’ll direct you to photos here.

This past December, at the NAS Summit in Minneapolis, after a powerful panel with Valerie Castile, Kaywin Feldman, Shannon Jones and Elisabeth Callihan about Minneapolis Institute of Art’s “Art and Healing: In the Moment,” I invited the community to construct a blanket fort that could support individual and collective reflection about what we had heard and experienced during the panel, and to define the aesthetics of our interaction for the remainder of our time together.

The organizational framing I shared was one I learned from Sarya Pinto, in a circle process training I attended a number of years ago. In the training, she introduced us to Dagara Cosmology, and shared how the Dagara people believe we are born into roles–associated with different energies and cardinal directions–according to the last digits of our birth year. You can read more about Dagara cosmology here. I’ve adapted this framework–which I find deeply compelling–to my work in and with Community. Here is the process we used in Minneapolis, with a few edits and additions based on learnings from the experience.

How to host a community blanket fort (101)

1. Ground the practice. Where does this impulse come from? Why is it important? What’s the history of this activity?
2. Define the purpose. Set an intention for the blanket fort. What is it we’re trying to do together?
3. Define the criteria. This could be done as a whole group–similar to shared agreements. Examples might be Safety, Stability, Coherence, Aesthetics and Care.
4. Invite a structure. In Minneapolis, we used the Dagara Wheel. The structure can be any that the group feels resonance with. Perhaps there is someone in the group who holds a spiritual and/or cultural tradition that feels appropriate to use to help the group form into smaller clusters, and links an identity to each of these structures. My personal belief is that connection with place and cardinal orientation matters. Below is the organization we used in Minneapolis.
   Fire. South. Red. 2,7
   You are the gateway to the ancestors. You run to change, are the trailblazers. You bring the right change at the right time.
   Earth. Center. Yellow. 0,5
   You are the homemakers. You are the relational weavers. You bring care to the process. Earth/grounding energy.
   Water. North. Blue. 1,6
   You are the healers. Your work is coherence, reconciliation and restoration.
   Mineral. West. White. 4,9
   You are the story in the bone. The storytellers, historians and librarians of the community.
   Nature. East. Green. 3,8
   You are the pattern keepers. You create space for adaptation and transformation through structure. You represent the highest level of consciousness.
5. Define the strategy. In small groups, given your role/identity in the community, define a plan–how will you contribute to the construction? Get to know your people.
6. Build. The facilitator doesn’t announce the formal build–they approach the fire group (or the appropriate one in the structure you chose to adopt) and invite them to start when they are ready.
7. Pause and observe. After the build, walk silently around the space. Look at the whole. The facilitator inquires: does this space meet our criteria? If any individual feels it does not, they are invited to make a change to the space. When it feels right, the facilitator invites everyone to find a place to anchor (sitting or standing, inside or outside). There are no rules or guideline about where people situate themselves.
8. Set the tone. The facilitator sets the tone for the exchange–perhaps sharing a poem, speaking from the heart, or inviting an energy into the space–this is the last formal gifting that the facilitator does. It marks the moment when the facilitator relinquishes their role to the collective.
9. Open reflection and exchange. In Minneapolis, we moved into a reflective space–people shared thoughts, feelings and ideas. The activity might also be one of dialogue, or perhaps there might be an invitation to another sort of activity, corresponding to the intention set by the group earlier.
10. Close. When the session feels over, anyone is invited to close the activity. Useful tools might be a chime or a bell to signal the end of the activity. If possible, don’t constrain the time–let the exchange go on for as long as it needs to.
11. Dismantle. We didn’t do this as a formal part of our time together in Minneapolis, but the dismantling of the fort is an important piece of the experience. When the time is right, the group can come together to carefully take the fort apart.

During our construction in Minneapolis, I watched with much joy and appreciation as the groups self-organized–the room at once full of giggles and intense planning and delegation. When the fort was complete, we sat in and around the space, wherever we were comfortable. People voiced that it felt like America–a patchwork of old and new, various colors and patterns–each with their own history and origin–coming together in a “hot mess” that somehow felt coherent and beautiful and useful. Everyone–no matter where they sat or stood–was framed by a unique set of angles, colors, and textures. The space helped us see each other as individuals, and to simultaneously feel coherent as a group. A group that accepted all possible modes of engagement, rooted in a spirit of kindness, respect and playfulness. The spirit and generosity in the room was palpable. It set a beautiful tone for our time together, and gave me faith that this rigorous inquiry into blanket forts is in fact a deeply meaningful pursuit, full of possibility.

Since Minneapolis, I have received a few inquiries about how to host a blanket fort co-construction–the motivation for this post. I would be thrilled to share more context and details if anyone is interested in exploring this–and would welcome any stories related to your own efforts. Be in touch!

Note of thanks: I am grateful that the team at NAS offered space and opportunity for me share my emerging practice. NAS has been a wellspring for me. The support and guidance I have received from them has been invaluable to the evolution of my own ideas, and to my capacity to move in a new direction with my practice. Thank you to everyone in the NAS community for all the work you are doing, and especially to the NAS team for the grace, humor and care you bring to your work and that you share with all of us.

Next up.

• Plans related to a grant we received from our Local Cultural Council to support a blanket fort co-construction with youth, exploring the topic of identity and place.
• Blanket forts and civic engagement–an ambitious plan for Easthampton City Council in 2020. :)