Its been three weeks since Kolaj Fest and I'm still talking about it. I'm not sure whether that says more about the event or me. Whether it's proof of the transcendent ecstasy that comes from being amidst the vibrancy of New Orleans, amongst a kaleidoscope of creative excellence and artistry. Or whether it's speaks more to the gray colorlessness of the way I spend my days. The truth, most likely, is somewhere in between.
I had never worked in a group setting prior to Kolaj Fest. Never collaged with or beside anyone. The practice of collage for me has always been an anchorite's existence. It's a refuge, a temple, a shelter, a cloister, a source of salvation and safety, but a space I dwelt in alone. To be honest, in the week's leading up to Kolaj Fest the thought of working communally seemed perilous and daunting. In the feature film of my insecurities, imposter syndrome always has the staring role.
But, something happened at that shared table in that shared space. I found a fluidity in my process I've never had before. Pieces came together without effort or second guessing. Without fuss or friction. We were alone together. I was a participant in the communal act of something solitary. At the risk of sounding to woo-woo, I found myself upheld and supported by a collective creative energy. In the span of about 3 days I produced 17 new pieces. (much of which I've shared previously, here and here).
It's funny. Community has always been the most neglected part of my creative practice. Its something I didn't put much stock in. Something I never took seriously. Turns out, it's everything I never knew I always needed.
This is the last of my Kolaj Fest work. With any luck you won't have to see me mention it any more...maybe...
P.S. ICAD Day 31-33
P.P.S I submitted two pieces to Cut Me Up Magazine to be considered for publication in their next issue:
Marie Laveau
In one quick lick I waved my mojo hand,
made the Mississippi’s muddy spine
run crooked as a crow’s foot,
scared politicians into my pocket
with lizard tongues and buzzard bones,
convinced the governor to sing my name
under a sharp crescent moon
white as a gator’s tooth.
Now my magic got the whole Vieux Carré
waltzing with redfish and rooster heads,
got Protestants blessing okra and cayenne,
Catholics chasing black cats down Dumaine,
even got Creoles two-stepping with pythons
along the banks of Bayou St. John.
They say soon my powers gonna fade,
that there’s a noose aloose in the streets
looking for a neck to blame.
But I’m just a lowly colored woman
and ain’t nobody gonna blame a worm
for scaring a catfish onto a hook.
Chris Tusa
Thank you for sharing your Kolaj Fest experience with such openness and honesty. It’s incredibly relatable to hear about your initial doubts and the transformative power of creative community. Many of us find solace and creativity in solitude, only to be surprised by the richness that collaboration brings. Also, FABULOUS WORK!!!