We’ve all been there at some point. Standing in front of someone’s artwork, completely bewildered as to what exactly we’re supposed to “see,” particularly with non-representational works. Fear of embarrassment prevents us from asking the obvious. Chances are that if you’ve passed through the education system in Guyana then no one has ever taught you how to look at a work of art. Some would argue that the idea of teaching someone how to look at something is ridiculous. But is
Six weeks ago I began a series of articles documenting my time at the Vermont Studio Center (VSC). My intention was to share with the Guyanese audience the importance of spaces like VSC to the development of any creative practice. This week, with the series recently concluded, I thought it would be of even greater value to extend this platform to other artists in the region who have also been residents at VSC. I invited them to share, in their own words, how their time in Ver
I sat on the plane and waited for the beginning of what was the final stretch of flights on my way home, unsure if I was leaving Vermont with answers or even more questions. It was a strange feeling, not being able to make that distinction. It was strange but not entirely unfamiliar. Thoughts of my time there were drowned out by constant and silent prayers for a return trip unlike the one I endured just a month before. I didn’t complain about sprinting twice from what felt li
The end of my time in Vermont is swiftly approaching and I’ve been earnestly trying to ignore the cloud of anxiety that has been building around me. I didn’t come with a plan in the same way some of the other residents did. Some came to finish a particular series of work while others came to build something they could document for future proposals. Despite the varying points of entry, the general consensus was that we would work as long and hard as our bodies would allow us.