MASS MoCA was so influential on my work and such a meaningful experience in 2019 that I decided to reapply. This resulted in two weeks scheduled at the end of May—my fifth residency in 12 months. With momentum already built up in the studio and large-scale work under way, driving seemed like a better option than shipping a bunch of work in progress and 5-foot rolls of paper.
The trip to Massachusetts took two days. Instead of staying with a friend, I booked a cheap room in Buffalo, NY—more than halfway to my destination. It turned out to be one of the more bizarre hotel experiences of my life, second only to a tiny roadside motel in rural Yugoslavia in the mid-1980s (a story for another time). The hotel in Buffalo was huge, allegedly over 160 rooms, with hallways decorated to look like an Italian villa and elevator music playing throughout. There were crystal chandeliers, an aquarium, gaudy statues and furniture, fake plants, fountains, gilded decorations everywhere. It was overwhelming and beyond surreal, but the room itself was kind of dumpy. Baudrillard would have had a ball here.
The following day, I made a quick stop at the airport in Albany to pick up Sung Eun Park, a fellow artist and lovely companion on the rest of the road trip up the Berkshires and into North Adams. We arrived early and hung out in the museum café before the orientation and welcome dinner. The brilliant and striking new residency manager, Carolina Porras Monroy, gave everyone a tour of the studios and our apartments across the street. Much of the residency structure was similar to my memory of it from four years ago, with a few exceptions—such as the use of Discord as our primary mode of communication among the cohort. There were nine of us in residence for the late May session. Everyone was friendly and eager to explore both the museum and North Adams.
The next morning, still groggy and half-asleep, I opened the blinds and was stunned by the view of a giant Puryear sculpture from my bedroom window. This moment exemplified my overall experience at the residency—enchanting and completely immersive.
Compared to my time here in 2019, when I was in residence for four weeks, a lot more was planned for us this year despite the shorter session. There were tours, presentations, gatherings, studio visits, and even an open studios event. Early in the session, Carolina gave us a tour of North Adams, which included various shops, pizza places, artist-run spaces, and a beautiful new residency space called the Walkaway House, co-founded by Carolyn Clayton (formerly an employee of the Studios at MASS MoCA) and her partner Ben.
Carolyn’s last day of work, which happened to be during our session, culminated in a goodbye party at a local brewery called Bright Ideas. I met several people there and we spent the evening talking about art and life. Someone asked what kind of work I make, and another artist remembered the ridiculous description I gave earlier in the day: “Basically body horror, but kinda pretty,” which prompted the person who asked to reminisce on an unbearably disturbing and disgusting body horror movie they saw in one of their film classes. It’s called Trouble Every Day, and coincidentally it happens to be one of my favorite films—I’ve seen it multiple times. It was directed by the genius Claire Denis with a moving soundtrack by Tindersticks. Needless to say, we had a hilarious time comparing notes on this film.
That same evening, while chatting with the residency director over a beer, a song came on that caught my attention—not because it was abrasive or loud, but because it was so good that I couldn’t concentrate. I asked the bartender—evidently a metal fan—what they were playing. He enthusiastically shared his love of this band. They’re called Big Brave. He explained that they recorded an album with The Body, another experimental metal band I should know. I listened to both of these bands online the next day and was really struck by Big Brave—so much that I looked up their tour dates and ended up seeing them a month later back home in Chicago where they opened for the black metal quartet, Liturgy, at the Empty Bottle. The whole show was absolutely breathtaking. But I digress.
As for MASS MoCA, the museum was overwhelming as ever—so many things to see, so little time. The fact that our residency session lasted only two weeks made it a lot more difficult to balance studio time with planned activities and unlimited access to the enormous exhibitions that were only steps away. Much of the work I saw in 2019 was still on display. Here are some things that caught my attention this year.
What struck me about North Adams and the region in general was just how much the vibe had changed since 2019. I had already heard about the migration of creative people (and others) from NYC northward during the pandemic, but the difference was palpable, both in my experience last year in the Hudson Valley, and now, in the Berkshires. There was a lot more activity—more events, buzz, DIY spaces, innovation—and more traffic. I even crossed paths with several local artists whom I met years ago when they still lived in Chicago. Another artist who noticed my name on the residency media emailed me to say that she was now living there too.
Two weeks was not enough time to stray too far from North Adams, but I did get a chance to check out the Clark Art Institute in nearby Williamstown a couple of days before the residency session ended. I spent over three hours getting a relatively cursory view of the museum’s massive collection. One of their special exhibits featured phantasmagorical work by visionary architect Paul Goesch, whose drawings from the 1920s looked like something out of the movie Fantastic Planet. The show was curated by Robert Wiesenberger, whom I had the pleasure to meet when he visited our studios at MASS MoCA. His insights were invaluable, helping me realize a few things that I was trying to untangle in my new work. I will write about these discoveries and more about my process in a separate journal entry.
As with most residencies, numerous fruitful exchanges happened among the cohort. One of my roommates, Sarah Aziz and I spent many hours discussing topics like architecture, food science, Dollar General, and Velveeta in the obvious place where such conversations tend to arise: the kitchen. I probably spent the most time chatting with another roommate, Clare Hu, a weaver originally from Georgia, whose work blew my mind before I even arrived at MASS MoCA. Everyone at this residency was truly encouraging and lovely, and I felt lucky to be among such brilliant artists. Here is a picture of all of us together.
Two weeks went by too quickly. On my drive back, I dropped off Clare in Albany, NY, and went on my way to a cheap roadside motel in Erie, PA. Within less than a mile of arriving at the motel, I saw a car in flames on the expressway, like something out of a movie. Traffic had slowed and funneled into the furthermost lane in order to avoid the burning car. I felt anxious about passing—the flames were growing and engulfing the car more and more as I approached. Immense heat radiated from the fire—I felt the temperature rise through my closed windows as I drove within a few feet of the chaotic flames. Within seconds after I passed, I heard a muffled explosion that culminated in a loud “thunk”, as though something burst within the body of the car—maybe under the hood. In my memory of May 2023, this event marks a dramatic and incongruous end to a delightful two weeks.