Some people sleep in color; me, I only dream in patterns

Okay, so it’s time for me to make an executive decision. I have a list of about ten different themes or experiences from my two weeks of traveling that I would like to write about on the blog. They were such profound and wonderful experiences that to accurately articulate them, by my standards, it would require something of a small novel. My dilemma is that this backlog of entries is preventing me from writing about current happenings and believe it or not, I don’t have the time here in Mali. Four weeks from tomorrow, in only 28 days, we leave to return home. That’s nothing and I have to be more forward thinking/writing in order to capture what little is left of this semester.

That said, the stories from our trip will not go unshared because (segue into next topic), this happens to be the theme of my final art project.

Before I was to begin my apprenticeship, my art mentor Abdoulaye Konate asked that I reflect on a concept, “un theme,” for my work. This freedom to choose whatever I felt was important is surprisingly daunting because most art students are used to specific assignments (draw this still life). What is it that I am truly passionate about? What do I believe? Why even make art in the first place? Those were the questions that occupied my mind during the many hours on the road, boat ride, and hike through Dogon.

This is a list of convictions I jotted down in my journal:
-the importance of education and the transmission of knowledge in ways that are relevant, interesting, and inspiring
-the ability to be a critical thinker
-travel as a way of challenging oneself and gaining respect for new cultures and places
-the seemingly invisible connections that exist between each other and our environment.
-a purpose in life and the power to make change
-ownership over our lives, playing by our own rules and agenda
-art as a social critique, a looking glass to see the everyday in new ways, to challenge our minds and perceptions.

My project manifested itself in so many ways throughout the trip and unfortunately, I don’t have an overflowing sketchbook to show for it. Because I am a visual thinker and mentally see in 3-D, I’m more likely to mold and shape and test out an idea in my head before ever picking up a pencil and paper (this is a very Malian practice). Erica’s pointed out that my facial expressions reveal my thinking, that my eyes flit back and forth and purse my lips while working out a thought. Apparently it’s hilarious, but when watching her imitate it for me, I think it’s kinda weird. Anyone else notice this habit of mine?

So it was in the last few days of our trip when things really started falling into place. I felt like not only did I have direction for my final art piece, but also a wealth of ideas and themes to pursue back home (international affairs, maps, human diversity, webs and ecosystems, making invisible connections visible, just to name a few). For the first time, I’m driven by a concept rather than material (think plastic bottle sculptures from earlier this semester) and it’s exhilarating.

On to the project…
From the beginning of our two weeks of travel, I had the sense that our upcoming experiences would be worth sharing through some sort of art piece. At the very least, I knew that I would share mine, but what about everyone else? I became very interested in the idea of a collective memory, that we can all be visiting the exact same places but having completely different experiences. How are our perspectives different and how are they similar? Will the memory of the trip be stronger when collected by nine students rather than one? This was something I wanted to explore, but now had to assign it to some sort of medium.

The textiles in Mali have always fascinated me with their rich patterns and bright colors. It’s rare to see the same design twice and I’m convinced that there are stories hidden within their motifs and symbols. There’s also something infinite about pattern, something about its repetition that mesmerizes me (there’s also this structured mathematical part of my brain that is satiated when creating and deconstructing complex patterns). And so, I decided to challenge myself to see if I could create textile designs based on our travel narratives.




(our newly painted door)


I have this crazy elaborate system that is, as pointed out by classmates, fairly reflective of my organizational skills and thought process. I’ve been conducting interviews, asking people to share one particularly vivid story and listening for any images/objects/colors that could be represented in a design. At its very basic, the entire piece will look like this, with each circle representing one student and one particular memory:


You’ll notice though, that the circles overlap each other, that they are connected to four other memories. In those overlapping spaces is a new perspective on the original memory. For example, India decides to share a story about the boat ride to Timbuktu and Kunal’s is about our first night in Dogon. Because their circles overlap each other, I’ll do a follow-up interview and ask India to describe her first night in Dogon and for Kunal to reflect upon his boat experience. Based on these two perspectives, a new pattern will be created for the overlapping space. It’s like a giant Venn-diagram.

It is my hope that this piece will be like telling a story. When viewed from a far, it’s just an impression of colors, like how we describe an experience when passing a friend on the street (Oh how was your trip to Mali? Incredible!). But walking up closer to the designs will reveal more detail, though maybe reduced to a few key symbols. But isn’t that what happens when we tell the same story over and over again, that we find ourselves repeating the same phrases and details? It’s when other people chime in to share their perspectives that the narrative becomes much fuller and richer. That’s the hope anyway.

Anyway, I’m smelling eggs being cooked for breakfast so I’m going to wrap things up quickly. At the same time that I’m working on this project, I’m also writing a research paper on Malian textiles and checking in/”apprenticing” with Abdoulaye Konate. I’m using quotations because he’s not really a full time studio artist anymore and me following him around all day would mean me sitting in his office watching him check e-mails. And so we have an agreement to meet up once or twice a week at the Conservatory and then he has my phone number to call me if he needs any assistance with his art projects at night. It’s probably the most realistic scenario I could ask for and I’m secretly pleased with it because I get more personal studio time. I’ll keep you posted of my progress and of course, would welcome any ideas/thoughts (I miss the art school community!). Scrambled eggs, here I come.

(written Saturday morning)