Building art tables out of forests | Rocio Graham
I recently sat with a student who was heartbroken after being isolated from a performance group that has been very vocal about inclusivity and offering a platform for disenfranchised performing artists; but it looks like that openness will only be extended if you abide by their specific aesthetic and unwritten rules about performing.
My student felt left out and that they didn’t belong anywhere. After chatting with them for a while I said, you know what? If they are not inviting you to the table to play, build your own damn table!!!
Suddenly my own words struck me like lightning. Here I am all sassy, telling my student to build her own artistic table where she can invite whoever she wants; her table, her table manners and I felt a pang of guilt because I recognized the feeling of being left out, and yet I’ve not made my own table.
When I arrived in Canada there were not many programs for new immigrant artists. The Latin community was barely visible and the art world seemed so obscure and easier to access if you spoke flawless English and had a Western education. It took me a few years to speak and write the language well, making my development as an artist slow. To this day I still need an editor for any piece of professional writing I do. It took me close to 20 years to understand the maze of the art world. I wish I could hold the hand of that confused Mexican girl that I once was and tell her that she has what it takes. The rubbish she faced in pursuing her ambition was not a reflection of her artistic abilities, but the result of a system that is designed to keep people like her quiet. The art world struggles with empowered female artists; it just doesn’t know what to do with them. We are expected to play nice, and by nice I mean to accept morsels of opportunities and substandard employment. Many galleries and museums still struggle to offer signature solo shows to female artists. If that female artist happens to be a person of colour and is without a Western education, the chance for such opportunities become non-existent. When I see BIPOC artists who were born in English speaking countries I tend to wonder if they have an inherent stool that allows them to stand taller and peek into that world from a better vantage point than I can. I suspect those little facts make a difference, but instead of lamenting my fate I can take my own advice and make my own damn tables, with matching stools, for me and all my fellow artists.
During a mentorship session with Natasha Caruana in 2020 she asked me about my dreams. I mentioned that I wanted to create an international art residency in 2025. After a few sessions she asked why I was not starting this art residency now. I gave so many reasons why I couldn’t, but not one reason why I could or should. The reality is that I had killed the project before it could become a reality because I was too chicken to seize my power. My perfectionism, and the anxiety that comes with it, paralyzes me often. Fear of failure can be so strong that we don’t pursue our dreams. That, and the socio-political contexts in which I grew up, make me doubt myself constantly.
However, after my chat with my student, I felt this urge to just jump into the unknown and make this happen. I kept thinking about Natasha’s words. I know that it is up to me to pursue my dreams. Nobody will do the work for me. At the same time, I mentioned to my student that 34 acres of magnificent forest land overlooking Christina Lake (British Columbia, Canada) became available for sale. I only saw the first picture on the listing and already I knew this place was my fate. When I arrived to see this place, I could not believe that every single wish of mine was embodied in this land. This was the exact place that I wrote about in a script in 2005 as the ideal site for this heroine to reflect on her life journey. Thinking about what I wrote then and seeing this place gave me shivers down my spine. There was one thing different; in my script I wrote about a little boy holding my hand, but in this place I had two children holding on to me . The views were expansive, overlooking a river basin and a lake. A creek ran through the property with a cove of cedars and a majestic ponderosa pine forest. The mist of the creek caressed my face, and I knew I was finally home. I have never felt such a strong assurance in my gut, a peaceful feeling told me this was the right place for all of my, and my family’s, dreams to come true. I found the perfect place for the art residences that I’ve dreamt of. I have always thrived in community. I am always amazed that when I surrender my need for control, magical things happen. Every single time that I have worked on a community project then stepped back and let people bring themselves as they are, the project always became larger than me, larger than my vision, and truly a community project.
I found out that this place is a Natural Resource, perched on a mountainside, in the safety of the dense forest in a migration corridor, so fauna abounds here; the ideal place for artists like me, who work with nature in their art practice. The fact that this land came with its own artist studio was just too good to be true. I learnt that it’s nested on the Santa Rosa Forest Service Road, and it seems fitting that we honour that name, which has so many personal connections to my Hispanic heritage and my art practice. Santa Rosa Arts was born that afternoon https://www.santarosaarts.com/.
I dream of this land as a place that brings powerful synergies between a variety of artists. My hope is that this place is centred in equality . How that is enacted is yet to be determined. I don’t have the answers, but I am open to the gifts that others bring to the table. Working with nature in my art practice has taught me to surrender to constant life changes. A method that can be quite unsettling to many, but slowly I have recognized that that is how I approach my life and art. Perhaps that is also the result of working in an art system that has demanded utter resourcefulness and resilience. A system that has forced me to go around to the back door of things and find a way to get in, because many times the front door hasn't been wide open for an artist like me. This can strike a nerve in some people, but that has honestly been my experience. This is why I have long yearned to be the one opening doors for others that, like me, found our art system quite complex to navigate.
There are many logistical hurdles that I have yet to address, like insurance, taxation, and all the legal matters involved in tackling a project like this will all fall into place in time . It always does. I have a wonderful art community of supportive fellow artists that will make Santa Rosa their creative space too. I can’t wait for the many artists to come to Santa Rosa Arts to grow artistically and heal in this place. I imagine them coming like seeds brought by the wind that plant themselves in the land, grounding their art. It will be a place to explore and build a community. I am deeply grateful to the forests that have given me so much over the years. They have helped heal the deep wounds of my body and soul and now will even allow me to build my own damn table, with stools for everyone.
by Rocio Graham
All images shown are the artist’s work.
Rocio Graham is a Mexican /Canadian multidisciplinary artist based in Calgary. Her work is influenced by her cultural heritage, personal experience with trauma and reflections on life cycles. She is currently a peer residency coordinator for the Alberta University of the Arts Student Association, Hear/d Art Residency; and serves on the board of directors for Seites Magazine. Graham’s work has been acquired by the AFA art collection, Saks Fifth Ave and the Fairmont Banff Springs hotel.Her writing musings include Luma Quarterly and Chrysalis zine magazine.
