Time capsules
It’s no secret that I have experienced periods of major depression. One of the recurring thoughts I had during those times was “what is the point?”. The structure of my everyday existence, the routines and processes that I took part in every day, had crumbled. I even found it difficult to get out of bed and brush my teeth. Everything hurt. Everything was a struggle. I also thought a lot about my own mortality. Sometimes I wished for the peace and stillness of death, just to stop the pain.
When your life feels purposeless, you are cast adrift in the ocean of time and space without an anchor. If I didn’t have my family, I certainly wouldn’t have made it out of those dreadful times alive. My recovery has involved the active hunt for purpose and anchors. I started crocheting a blanket. Making a physical, useful thing stitch by stitch gave me a feeling of progression. I planted seeds. We got a puppy, who needed feeding and walking every day and gave me a reason to get up. I realised that even with my flaws, I could be the whole world and loved unconditionally by another creature. Brick by painful brick I began to rebuild my life.
Although I can never say that I am fully recovered from depression, I am better able to manage it these days. The anchor points of family, friends, and my work as an artist help keep me grounded. I have built habits into my routine which help keep the black dog at bay, like meditating, walking, looking at the sky and touching the earth. Of course life is unpredictable, and sometimes circumstances conspire against you (looking at you, 2020!). These days a bad day or week can really take me by surprise.
When the everyday minutia becomes overwhelming, I like to zoom out a bit. Thinking about time spans much longer than my lifetime helps me feel calmer again. We’re all so insignificant in the grand scheme of things and there’s a freedom in that thought!
Isn’t it cool how we have a connection with ancestors from centuries before us? People from thousands of years ago marked their time here with things we can still touch to this day: handprints on cave walls, stone temples to their Gods. We love to try and make sense of these traces, and tell stories about the people who were here before us.
Their traces are left in our genes, our behaviours and our languages. I know that some of my ancestors were spinners, so when I hold my drop spindle and twist wool into yarn I feel connected to them even though I don’t even know what they look like. How many generations have sewn, knitted, woven and spun before me? Their lives are in my bones.
I also love thinking about the descendants that will be alive thousands of years from now. What will survive from this time? What will they understand, what will they carry with them from our time in history? I loved planting time capsules at the Millennium. I was captivated by the idea that somebody in a different time will discover it and make sense from those traces, tell stories about what we were like.
This is what I channel in my art process. The motto which guides my work is the quote by Nina Simone: “As artists, it is our duty to reflect the times”. As well as raising my child and being life companions for my friends and family, the purpose I have given my life is to reflect the times we live in. I’m planting treasure hunts in my work for future generations to uncover in tiny traces and snippets. And don’t we all love discovering treasure?!
