Residency Wrap-up…
Ragdale was fabulous. I could only stay for 8 days (instead of the regular 2 weeks) as I had commitments in Miami I couldn't change. But 8 days was more than enough to get a bushel and three pecks out of the experience and to want to go back, like real soon.
The deal with an artist residency is this: 1) You apply to an organization's residency program (according to the Alliance for Artist Communities, there are over 300 such organizations in the US) 2) If you get accepted, the organization brings you to their campus (can be a university, a museum, or, in the case of Ragdale, a famous old house in the woods) and gives you room and board to do your work for a period of time. 3) At some, you are expected to present your work in progress, some not. The real promise is time, quiet and freedom from life's obligations.
I knew that one of the few perks that comes with writing a book is to apply for these things. In September, I threw my hat in for 5 programs. Since Ragdale was in the midwest (my birthplace and about 2 hours less flying than California) and had been recommended by not one but two friends, it was my first choice.
I'd never been an artist-in-residence before and didn't know when this opportunity would come along again. And since I only had a little over a week there, I wanted to take full advantage of the time and set myself the goal of 3 book chapters. I reached my goal.
More importantly though, I felt like I belonged. I've never thought of myself as an artist, creative, yes, clever, sometimes, but not the kind who talks about "my work" or "my process." I still don't feel entirely genuine saying even that but being in a residency program means you are not pretending: They expect you to be the kind of person that creates as regularly as a gardener weeds.
At Ragdale you're pretty much on your own for most of the day. You pass other residents in the hall or the library but everyone's either headed to work or taking a quick break from it. I spent the better part of my first few days asking myself "Did I take out the trash?" "Do I need to do the laundry?" and remembering I didn't have those concerns at the moment. I didn't have any concerns except writing, which is terrifying, but like a dunk in a cold well. It clarifies your day's purpose pretty damn quick.
I would write a few hours in the morning, break for lunch then try to finish up that chapter in the afternoon. If I had to read or research, did that. Most nights, I'd pull a few hours after dinner, then read or watch a movie on my laptop before bed. A few times I took the train into Chicago to visit friends. But the routine was write, break, read, write, break, eat, write, sleep.
On the third night, I gave a quick reading of my book and got some great feedback. The most important: Keep at it.
Dinner at Ragdale is communal. You eat around a large old wooden table and begin bites ask your fellow residents how their day went, how they feel about their work. As formal gives way to friendly, you talk about families and hometowns, hobbies and trade secrets. There were only 8 of us, instead of Ragdale's normal 12 residents per session. I think we became friends a little easier and faster because of it.
I'm going to do a separate post about my fellow residents highlighting their work and why I'll be cheering them on. They did the same and more for me.
Thank you to them and thank you to Ragdale. It's a special place over there in Lake Forest. I hope to come back someday soon.