On to plan B.   Plan B was actually my first idea.  While my art started out with a lot of collaging, I’ve since stepped away from it.  But I revisited it for this project.  I pulled out the screens for Hourglass, Marigolds, and Bird and the Bee, and printed them all in order to cut them in pieces.  Hand cut, and strategically placed, there are over 15 pieces that make up the outer surface and inner linings of the shoe.

I initially planned to put art on the shoe box as well.  That plan evolved into making my own box because well… it was the right thing to do.  I want my art to last.  So it was a no brainer to make a box that would  also last.  As simple and easy as it would have been to just use the default, I get nightmares about convenience killing me from the inside out.  Thus the box was born.  Sanded, polycoated, and drawn directly on the box, a custom home was constructed.  However, convenience can still use it for a coffin if it chooses to.

Once the shoe and box were done, I was afraid viewers would not get an appreciation for the collaging and understand that the pieces came from 3 larger complete pieces.  So I wrestled with how to go about that.  The conversation in my head and often times out loud while sitting at my desk went something like this:  ”Shit, should I give away the three prints?  Framed/Unframed?  No.  That would be tacky.  Just three prints hanging around like that?  Digital postcards would be cool.  Yeah, I’ll do that.  But how do I integrate it with the box?  How big is this box again? Glue them on the inside of the top?  Just throw them in the box?  How much are photo albums?  What about one big print with all of them on there?  Frame it?  Wait, how would it look if I printed them super small?  Where do I put the stories?  Damn, frozen microwave burritos can be awesome sometimes.  Ok, ok, I think I got it.  A damn book!”

And the book was born.  It’s a simple book.  20 pages profiling everyone behind the project.  It also tells the story of why I agreed to do the project, what I learned about my art and synonymously myself, and thus I think it shares the spirit of the entire project.   Only the winning bidder will get the full story, but I will say this:  I did not get paid for this project.  The shoes were free.  The box, the book, and time were all volunteered to make the best package I could.  I did my best not for the returns from a final product or commodity.  It wasn’t even really about the art at this point.  It was about something greater but also something so simple.   It was about doing my best.  The project snowballed from doodling on a cardboard box and filling it with postcards to building a wooden box and publishing a book. I had no choice but to try and keep pace with the snowball that turned into a smothering avalanche; it smothered the ideas of convenience and complacency.  And that white blanket of snow that settled left me with a crystalized realization.

I learned to value the process of exhausting myself.  With every step toward exhaustion, I lift with care and tread with a deliberate pursuit to give everything I have. I didn’t have this grand vision, but I did know that I couldn’t inhibit myself and that I could only be at peace when I gave it everything I had.

Thanks to Viva!, I was able to participate  and even be considered.

After finding a special secret spot offering free drinks for every art walk night, and after finding the greatest horchata ever, I went home and found this.

The full “story” of “lift with care” and the entire project, coming soon.