This is Dad’s napping blanket. Like his mom, he can fall asleep almost instantly.
One afternoon, in her hospice bed, she woke up, snuggled down deeper into the blanket, declared:
I’m a little kitty!
and fell right back to sleep.
“Hello, Reed residence. This is Tirzah speaking.”
I was taught how to answer our landline when I was little, and at the time I didn’t understand what “residence” meant. One pandemic later, and I’m still trying to figure it out.
It’s currently impossible to attend residencies where artists work, learn, and rest. Instead, residency as a home and place of shelter— this definition is increasingly evocative. What constitutes a residency? Is it an institution’s stamp of approval? Is it an address? A feeling of comfort? Community? The possibility for personal growth? Perhaps artist residencies and the Reed residence are not so different after all.
Summer 2020: The Reed Residency is founded as I host myself in my family’s home.
The blog below contains artifacts and updates from the adventure.