You know that art project/novel/score/one-man-show you’ve been working on for years, but can’t seem to finish? Well, there’s an answer to your problem, and it’s called an artist residency.
What’s an artist residency? It’s a place (think the famed Yaddo and MacDowell out east) where artists and writers go to shut out the rest of the world and zone in completely on their creative projects. I recently had the extreme pleasure of doing an artist residency at the Ragdale Foundation, an artist residency program in Lake Forest, Illinois, and, I’m thrilled to say, finished three previously languishing stories for my short story collection.
Ragdale’s been around since 1976. It was founded by poet Alice Judson Hayes, the granddaughter of Arts and Crafts architect Howard Van Doren Shaw who built the beautiful, spacious place in 1897 as a summer home for his family. Thirty miles north of Chicago, it “overlooks 50 acres of prairie, now hosts over 200 emerging and established artists of all disciplines each year.” It has 8 writers studios (decked out with porches, libraries, copious writing desks) , two art studios (good light, spacious), and one composer studio complete with piano and minimal equipment.
Some famous alumni are Audrey Niffenegger, Wendy McClure, Jaqueline Michard, Sara Paretsky, Alice Sebold, Curtis White and Sandi Wisenberg. Carl Sandburg and Vachel Lindsay were friends of the Shaws and are said to have attended plays there.
The nitty gritty: Not everyone gets in. You have to fill out an application, write an artist statement and get a few people to recommend you for the program. Once you’re in, it costs $25/day (a meager fee considering that you’re provided with all meals plus housekeeping). Financial aid and fellowships are also available. Artist residencies include your own studio, access to a full kitchen stocked with breakfast and lunch stuffs, and full (delicious) chef-cooked dinner every night with the other 11 residents. What’s funny is that although you go there ostensibly to be alone and completely in your thoughts, one of the best parts of the residency for many ends up being those lively dinners with 11 other people who’ve been creatively engaged all day, just like you.
After dinner, you can sneak away back to your studio with no guilt, or linger to discuss art and ideas with other residents. (Among the spectacular residents in my session were a children’s book author writing a kiddie book on the life of the Buddha, a blind poet/performer who was there with his amazing seeing-eye dog, and Alice Hayes’ granddaughter Ramona, who wrote this wonderful story based on her grandmother and who I’m pretty sure I know from another life.)
Initially, having all that free time can send people into freak-out mode, so resident adviser Regin Ingloria wisely warned us that we might just sleep or spaz for a day or two (I did both) but would soon acclimate and start working. He was right: we all made more progress than we even thought possible-a groovy reminder that the human brain is innately creative, but that sometimes we need time and space away from practical concerns to get in that flow. (Incidentally, that’s Ragdale’s motto and the phrase on their t-shirts: “Time and Space”).
Ragdale is more than just a residency program; increasingly, their staffers Leslie Brown, Susan Page Tillett, and Regin Ingloria are holding public events and readings to step up Ragdale’s community involvement. (On May 10, Scott Turow will be doing an event for them; email l.brown@ragdale.org to register). So, I urge you: Get involved! Go to a Ragdale event! Get on their mailing list! But most of all: Apply! That novel’s not going to write itself. Photos from my stay are below, but if that doesn’t compel you to get moving on that novel/art project, this link might.
Stewie on novel writing
Readings, Rated
So you all know about Lethal Poetry, right? It’s a production company and label, a for-profit that raises money for non-profits and sometimes does crazy awesome things like decking out CTA cars with poets and flowers and music (Art on Track, 2008).
