More of this, please: Hope for a new year
While this past year has taken its toll on many of us, there are moments of grace and nourishment in the arts that give me hope for the future.
Editor’s note: We’re kicking off the year with a series of articles from local arts professionals and arts lovers, as they share reflections on recent arts experiences and what they want more of in the new year. Follow along throughout January to see what those in the middle of our local arts community have to say about it. We kick off our series with Erica Monroe, author of one of our top stories of 2017, culturedGR member, and lover of both making and experiencing the arts.
And here we rest, having survived the chaos and uncertainty of the past year, on the cusp of a new one. New beginnings, fresh starts, and clean slates are what many of us often look forward to with the advent of a new year.
Yet for some reason, I find myself filled with apprehension and perhaps even a little fear. What new, fresh hell does 2018 have in store? Will this be the year it all comes together or the year things fall apart? In years past, the resolutions and commitments were about self-realization and self-improvement. This year it feels more like a preparation and steeling of the self for both global and regional changes.
While this past year has certainly taken its toll on many of us—straining resources, relationships, and selves—there are several moments of both grace and nourishment that give me a sense of direction and hope for the future.
Mouthwatering haute couture and painstaking craftsmanship, Iris Van Herpen’s exhibit at the Grand Rapids Art Museum (GRAM) taught me something unexpected. Perfection is not the goal; exploration and advancement of my craft is far more important. Flaws have a place, they are part of the story.
My sneak peak at the Grand Rapids Ballet’s production of “A Christmas Carol” was such a delight. There is something about hearing pointe shoes make contact with the wood floors of the stage that exhilarates the wannabe dancer in me. And there is absolutely nothing more wondrous that witnessing that same joy burst forth from young friends.
As certain as the sun, every fall ArtPrize rolls around and transforms downtown GR into a bustling, art filled explosion for a few weeks. We always make a point to explore a few venues (The City Water Building and Boardwalk Condos were faves). This year was especially meaningful and transformative through my experience of viewing and then writing about the work at The Fed Galleries by Le’Andra Leseur, one of the most talented and kindest of human beings.
Exploring the studios at Tanglefoot along with other culturedGR members before their annual open studio event opened to the public—and interacting with the artists both in their studios and sharing drinks later: what an awesome lesson in tending the fires. Each of the artists, masters in their various disciplines, faithfully tends to the fire of art as a method for making meaning of the world we live in and share. Taking ownership of their own narratives, sharing their stories and passions with visitors and encouraging dialogue. Where would we be without these voices?
The Nutcracker with Grand Rapids Ballet. Where do I even begin with this one? My childhood dreams of becoming a dancer were short lived, but one of my most gripping memories was attending a local production of The Nutcracker with my mother and being utterly transfixed by the music, the costumes, the dancers, the story. It’s a feeling every child should have, at least once.
This year I planned in advance and purchased prime seats to The Nutcracker so that I could share the experience with my son. Not even the sacrilegious butchery of the plot (since when does the Prince dance with Clara at the end?!?!?) could dampen my enthusiasm for this holiday tradition. And despite his firm intention to fall asleep, my son also enjoyed the production and agreed to return next year.
This December I worked alongside new and old friends sewing angel costumes for the annual Christmas pageant at Fountain Street Church. Too many cherubs in too little time; however, the feeling of usefulness and sense of community that was created during the production made witnessing the final event entirely rewarding.
All of these experiences have a nourishing quality, presenting opportunities for self growth, forging and strengthening bonds in the community, through the preservation of tradition and ritual. I believe that continuing to cultivate my craft and using it to benefit my community will make me stronger, wiser, and kinder. I believe that continuing to share cultural traditions in the arts with my child will make him stronger, wiser, and kinder. I believe that supporting local artists and organizations will make my community stronger and more resilient to turmoil and change.
Whether they know it or not, these beliefs are held by every person who makes an effort to create or uphold a tradition involving arts. It is a faith and a hope that these little memories—these moments of grace, beauty, and ritual—will make a difference in the years to come.
