A Solitary Art
For years in Chicago, I had looked towards finding a local photography community—one that unfortunately never materialized. I connected with photographers from time to time, but aside from a few one-off shows or meetups, there never seemed to be a consistent gathering I could fall in with, find common ground, push to improve alongside.
I’m just barely getting started in Tokyo, but I already feel much more connected here. There’s a clear, local group of artists doing the kind of work I aim for, and events that are seemingly frequent. It’s nice to have reached the point since our move here where we can visit places a second time, know something about the texture of a neighborhood, and best of all to go somewhere and see a familiar face again. That I’ve now gone to photography exhibitions and seen the same photographers twice feels like a major step.
While I wasn’t able to find much of a photographic community in America, the writing network was far less opaque. There’s an endless grid of residencies, workshops, publications, grants, and more, and getting any small foothold into one aspect connects you with the rest. The workshop I was able to participate in last fall was extremely invigorating for my personal practice, both in terms of improving my own work, and simply to see other artists working.
Since moving, I’ve become disconnected from that world again, though there’s a group chat keeping me informed of the work of my cohort. In a way, I’ve unintentionally traded the writing community for a photographic one.
Coincidentally, the two mediums I’m closest to are mostly done alone. There’s something beautiful about the simplicity, the ascetic minimalism of writing; I can do it anywhere, by myself, with a variety of tools, and only need a little bit of time. But that doesn’t mean I have to be alone.
The writing is sort of a return to form for me. I wish I had more to report about short story publications, or workshop / residency acceptances, but that doesn’t mean it’s not going well. I’m putting in my 500 words every day, slowly building out a document that I look forward to refining and shaping in down the road.
Maybe the most beautiful thing about the art life to me is that in a way, everything seems to feed into it. I used to be bothered by writers on Twitter talking about how every little thing sat in the world of their book, but that level of obsessive dedication might be necessary to achieve a work like a novel.
There are little moments from my life in Tokyo so far that I’ve already or plan on feeding into the work. And even if most of the connections I’ve made here are related to photography, they still affect my writing as well. From thoughts my reading group has inspired in me, to the aesthetics and ideas I’ve gotten from going to museums and galleries, to the conversations I’ve had with other artists I’ve met—community is what you make of it.
Have any unexpected connections lead to breakthroughs in your art? I'd love to hear about them in the comments below!
