Art born out of a 999 day meditation.
Over 999 days I traveled 38,000 miles by bicycle, crossing six continents and circling the earth twice. When I left no one had asked me to go. I carried on compelled only by the moment, to chase the horizon and meet humanity along the way. I did that, and it was beautiful, but I went too far. I had an adventure of such magnitude that I isolated myself in the experience. Upon returning home I found that most people cannot relate to living even a single day like I had lived for a thousand.
I had stepped fully into the world, I made myself vulnerable so that I could test my faith in humanity. I smiled and waved at 30,000 people along my route, anyone that noticed me, yet almost all of my time out there I was alone. Without people to talk to I had no mirror for my thoughts. The world outside of me expanded immeasurably while internally I was living in an echo chamber. After years of this I lost my ability to perceive the world, or myself, through anyone else’s eyes but my own.
This is the state I was in when I returned home. I felt inspired and had a strong desire to build something. I could not conceive of what anyone else might want so I began looking for a project to do just for me. Like when I started bicycling, I had no idea how far I would ultimately go.
It took me a few months, but eventually my attention settled on my ant farm. I had made it a few years before I left on my journey. I used scrap pieces of plastic to make the habitat, and I set a dim light behind it to shine through the tunnels. While I traveled it was the only thing I missed from the life I left behind. I thought about it frequently. One day after I made it home I was watching the ants tunnel when a thought came to me; I left on my journey to find out what I was ultimately capable of, I am going to do it again with this ant farm.
Soon after I had conceived and built my first prototype, I called it an Ant Space. I stared at it incessantly. Bicycling around the world taught me great patience. Watching ants tunnel has become my new meditation.
While I traveled I arrived somewhere new every day. The world around me was always unfamiliar which in turn kept me engaged and curious. I liked that there was constantly something new to see. The Ant Space has this same characteristic. It holds nature, and nature is never stagnant; tunnels grow, plants grow, the soil settles. The scene will never be the same twice, it is impermanent, it exists only in the present.
The parallels between my bicycle tour and the Ant Space continued to add up. Truly I was integrating my experience. That became very clear when I decide to make a bigger Ant Space. On my bicycle tour, if I had stopped after 150 days no one would have said I didn’t go far enough. I went another 850 days after that. I do recognize the absurdity of it. The first Ant Space I built was 24” tall and 36” wide. It is a beautiful size, looks great on a wall, it is wonderful mood lighting. If I only made that 24” x 36” Ant Space, I don’t think anyone would have said it wasn’t enough, but it is my habit to judging only my effort, never the result. One-hundred and fifty days was not my best effort, and neither was a 24”x36” Ant Space.
I continued to refine the design, building 22 prototypes along the way. My vision barely outpaced the creation. I didn’t know where I was going, instead I was trusting in the process, another lesson intimately learned while bicycling. The four foot tall by eight foot wide Ant Space came at the end. It is the very largest possible, my masterpiece. Designing it would test me as an engineer, building it would test me as a craftsman, the result would be the exact artistic representation of myself. I would know then how far I could go.
My gallery is complete now, it is made up of eight Ant Spaces of various sizes, including the 4’x8’ Ant Space. It truly is my masterpiece. I built it just for me because I could not conceive of what someone else might want. I look at it now and I still don’t know, but I think it is perfect.
To learn more about Ant Space and my journey you can go here.
-Jacob Lemanski
