Dear Team Builders,
So, it has been quite some time since we last blogged. Got tons of reasons why. Let’s see, we can start with our planning and facilitating our last Team Building meeting (which occurred in June). We’re also in production mode for our upcoming gallery and museum shows. We have family obligations that include end-of-the-school-year festivities. We have our other, extra-curricular activities such as martial arts and band practice.
But no excuses.
Wea culpa.
Members from a variety of IMA departments participate in the Type A project.
We can attest to the fact that it’s hard to maintain the level of energy and, truth be told, excitement throughout the Team Building project. And, now, the meeting-with-the-group-portion of the project has concluded. The Align sculpture is being produced as we write and we still have the installation and opening to look forward to. But the meetings are over.
And this brings us to the focus of this blog entry. What happens when the the project, the experience, nears or comes to an end? How does one transition out of being actively involved in this process back into life without it? As artists, we experience this every time we finish drawing or editing or printing or framing whatever we’re making (okay, we don’t actually frame our own work, but you get the idea). But what we’re talking about goes beyond the creative process. Or, more accurately, it expands the realm of artistic process into the viewers’ experience.
When we were training up at High 5 waaaaay back when, we found ourselves in the middle of what was acknowledged to be a pretty profound experience. The group with which we worked bonded in a way that surprised even veteran facilitator and yoda-esque guru, Jim Grout. The question arose: how do we transition back to our “real lives”? How do we take all of what we experienced back home? The answer, as we discussed again and again (as if we could wrangle something tangible from the words) was that we shouldn’t necessarily try to do anything, shouldn’t try to hold on too tightly. We could, if we were aware, let the experience seep back into our lives in ways that maybe we couldn’t predict. Sounded like a tall order at the time, especially since we were all psyched to go and tell our families and friends about what happened.
So, we did exactly that. Went home. Told family and friends that something pretty great had happened. Let them know that we couldn’t communicate everything but hoped it would come out. In time.
And that’s where we find ourselves now at the end of this portion of Team Building. How do we take myriad events we’ve all experienced throughout the project allow them to integrate into our lives? And, by extension, how can we, if it’s possible at all, convey its substance and spirit to the 100 Acres visitor? If the nature of the work we’ve done together is intangible, without physical residue and based on experience, then how can that be meaningfully communicated to both intimates and a larger public? Without bridging this gap, the project will remain a closed loop and the Align sculpture will not realize its full resonant potential. It’s time now to reflect upon the seemingly contradictory endeavor of recording your thoughts and anecdotes for park visitors. We ask you to do this to reflect and to see if that very action can bridge a formidable gap. Ultimately it’s up to each member of the team to decide his or her involvement. Didactic by choice? In any case, we ask that you take the leap and see where you land.
We’ve been avoiding writing this blog entry (even more than our usual procrastinating selves), since it would mean some amount of closure. We have to acknowledge that some of our time together has ended. By extension, we have to acknowledge that our time working together will, at some point, end altogether.
While we look forward to the culmination of what we’ve done together at the opening of 100 Acres, we’re not looking forward to the finality of the calendar which specifies an ending when Align is de-installed. But, like any artistic endeavor, we hold on loosely to what we can and hope the rest lingers and maybe gets woven into the fabric of our lives.
Type A: Adam and Andrew
We have the shared experience. We have some images and some words. We have the group’s collective memory and creative energy, much of which went into the inspiration and design of Align. We have so much.
And to be clear, this is a thank you, not a good-bye.
A+A
August 20th, 2009 at 12:32 pm
And a hearty thank you to you both as well, as your facilitation, support, and active participation during the entire team building process has created an incredible opportunity to reflect on personal and professional service to community, family, and colleagues.
There were many moments I was reminded of the profound humanity in our daily efforts as cultural and historic preservationists, working diligently to present art, nature, and design to all those seeking creative respite from the nightly recession broadcasts.
I feel the park has been created as an invitation for individual and group exploration and creative endeavor, so my hope is that we can adequately communicate our team building success as a model for patrons to create new experiences and expand upon our inital efforts.
Certainly, the raucous town hall meetings regarding health care would benefit from a deeper understanding of individual suffering and respectful exchange, as well as a vigorous game of catch the rubber chicken.
Trackbacks
Leave a Reply