When it rains, it pours…
Final exhibition update
Installation view, 11/16/2024
Thank you to everyone who came out to visit the final exhibition showing of my final MFA project, “Matrescence: Becoming Mother Nature” last Saturday! It poured rain that morning, petered off in the afternoon, and many snacks, drinks, and rich conversations about art, growth, change, and the environment were had both indoors (in the artistic mess of my basement studio) and out. Nova learned how to hold an umbrella that was way too big for her, and proudly pointed people to “mommy project!” which obviously made the whole three years worth it.
If you didn’t see the project in person, below is a link to the video walkthrough (also on Instagram - follow me @lexialoo):
Alternate Vimeo Link
Turns out the showing was just in time for some major weather changes here in the Pacific Northwest. If you’re wondering why I haven’t updated you all sooner, it’s because we were hit with a ‘bomb cyclone’ here that downed so many trees that it knocked out power to our neighborhood for over four days. Over half a million homes were without power for some amount of time (as of right now, the service area for Puget Sound Energy, our local utility company just outside of Seattle, still has 46,000 customers without power, but they have been working amazingly quickly to restore the widespread damage).
My family and I were very lucky. Our home and cars sustained no damage; we were able to go out the day after the outage started and load up on non perishable foods; we had electric lanterns and backup batteries at the ready. Cell service did go down in our area, including internet access from our phones. We layered up for warmth, got together with neighbors by lantern light, and eventually decided to spring for a hotel room.
This week has left the outdoor installation tattered and tired, but still standing. The world on paper blew down in the wind, and I took down most of the paintings to avoid them flying away in the wind and causing any damage. The paper mache hands and roots are peeling and exposing the wire mesh frames underneath.
What I am left with is grief: not for the installation being past its prime, or having to accept the deepening of fall into winter. I have so much grief, as I did when I began, for climate change —the Seattle area has not seen a storm like this in decades, if ever— and the people who have not been as lucky as we are.
There are tens of thousands still without power. Worse, there are tens of thousands of unhoused individuals living in King County, nearly 10,000 of whom are estimated to be unsheltered (https://www.seattletimes.com/seattle-news/homeless/king-county-reports-largest-number-of-homeless-people-ever/#) — people who live daily without power, running water, or a warm room.
Now more than ever, this project speaks to me of grief, lamentations, and a quest for understanding: who are we? How did we get here? How do we heal? (Individually, and collectively, as a society, as a nation, as humans, as parents, as exhausted and often lonely and all-too-busy people.)
I don’t know about you, but I am looking forward to some rest, as I keep considering all of these questions, and what will come next for myself and the world.
Peace, love, and check on your neighbors!
~ Alexia