My Time at the Wedding Cake House Residency
It was like sitting with the cool, artsy kids in the cafeteria
In my experience, every writer residency, workshop, intensive, conference, get-together, etc has its unique flair. Ragdale? Cozy Midwestern nerdy vibes. Tin House Summer Workshop? Chaotic, horny, could-protest-could-turn-into-a-party-whos-to-say energy. Wedding Cake House? This one is for the sociable weirdos.
How to explain the quirky, accepting, anything-goes sensitivity of my latest residency? Xander and Pippi, the visual artists who own and run the Wedding Cake House and underground artist incubator Dirt Palace, are like the younger, Gen-X versions of the aunties in Practical Magic—amazing hair buns included. From what they’re doing, they align with my idea that artistic practice is a collective practice, even for writers like me.
Members of my cohort were multi-hyphened artists, whose projects were off-center of whatever one assumed of their craft. There was Fatema, a landscape architect, working on a seed library. Liz and Heather, frequent collaborators working on a project around the sounds of loneliness. Sophia, whose main medium was beadwork. Carrie, who was pivoting from animated documentaries to a short horror film about slugs. Evans, who combined painting, dance, music, and performance to talk about his land, Cuba. Lily, who used her bathroom as a lab for creating different dyes.
I was the absolute normie of the bunch though, given that I was picked, it gave me a new appreciation for these essays. If I was surrounded by genre-bending, sui generis work, maybe my writing is genre-bending, sui generis writing.
We were left to our own devices during the day. My start was rough. There were client deadlines, grant deadlines, newsletter deadlines. I reminded myself that applying for grants and keeping up this newsletter was also part of my work as a writer. The second half of the residency though was blissful. Because I got to think. I got to research. I got to revise and do line edits, not in a hurried way, but in a way that felt deliberate, and like forward movement.
At night, we gathered together for group dinners. Each artist was in charge of dinner one evening and assigned as a kitchen helper on another dinner. This was, by far, the only terrifying task I was asked to do lol. I love cooking but hate to do it with other people. I usually know I’ve reached true intimacy with someone when I feel comfortable cooking for them and there are a couple of relationships I’ve had where I didn’t even get to that point. This is probably why I flailed on both occasions though everyone assured me the food was fine. A rice cooker has become my mortal enemy. But it was also a lovely opportunity to bond one-on-one with other fellow artists and for that I’m grateful.
After dinner, we had artist talks. For me, they felt like a crash course on visual arts that I’ve never had. I now know that a rod is part of the eye that affects how we see things in low light. How certain painting materials only have an 8-hour timeframe in which you can work on them. Nicaraguan pottery. As for my artist talk, the consensus was that I should try podcasting and now I’m kind of obsessed with the idea. When we had the Open House, where I had the opportunity to read my work to a wider audience, the consensus remained the same: Have I thought about podcasting? Well, now I am!
I don’t have any clean wrap-up to my experience, other than to encourage everyone to apply. It felt, once again, like a portal to a wonderful life that could be permanent, a visit to a timeline where I did everything right. I am never more at peace and more myself than when I’m in these spaces. My return to Brooklyn has been difficult, to say the least. Beyond any words I put on paper or bright new ideas or fresh angles for revision, I’m always left with the same question: How could I make this my every day?
What I’m Reading
But You Seemed So Happy: A Marriage in Pieces and Bits by Kimberly Harrington. Continuing to reflect on the divorce memoir. Continuing to be forever thankful that I’m not married lol.
Parachute Kids: A Graphic Novel by Betty C. Tang, which is a thoughtful account on growing up abroad without your parents and the challenges of undocumented kids.
What I’m Watching
All of Bravo, the entirety of its back catalog, now that I’m reunited with Hulu.
The Bachelor, where Himbo Joey is single-handedly restoring the reputation of every Gemini man by being kind and a good listener. We forgive you for confusing Gypsy Rose Blanchard and Ruth Bader Ginsberg.
Season 6 of Love Is Blind is giving us vital life lessons, like never telling a man you look like Megan Fox. Set yourself up for success, Chelsea! More importantly, CHOOSE THE MULLET WITH THE HEART OF GOLD.
Severance. So creepy. So bleak. Do we ever see daylight in the series?
It’s awards season! Every year, I try to get through as many Oscar-nominated films as I can. It’s so easy to find the smaller ones streaming, like the heartwarming short doc The Barber of Little Rock and the revealing Island in Between.
What I’m Listening
I’m gravitating towards songs that feel like easy, breezy low-key summer vibes. Two weeks of winter have already obliterated my mental health lmao.
What I’m Downloading
The Viall Files, which Vulture accurately describes as Meet the Press for Reality TV. Skip the episodes where he gives listeners relationship advice, but dig into his interviews with icons of our time like Jersey Shore’s J-WOWW. I hate to admit this but Bachelor Nick—he of “Why did we have sex?” fame on Andi Dorfman’s season—is an excellent interviewer.
Shameless Self-Promotion
Q2 is coming right up and I still have some availability in the books! I’m a bilingual content writer, editorial writer, and translator with a focus on higher education, non-profits, the Latinx community, food, and culture. You can find out more about my experience in my LinkedIn profile. If you think I can be of service to your organization, simply respond to this newsletter.
This year’s Pub Crawl is in full swing, where I’ll be leading an abbreviated version of my Artist Statement workshop and moderating a panel of StoryStudio alumni. The monthlong conference is completely virtual and all sessions are recorded, so you can still catch up! If you want feedback on your artist statements, feel free to reach out.
I’ll also be teaching a one-night workshop on how to use reporting to shape your creative writing projects on March 19.
You can still get a Tarot card reading for 2024! The half-hour virtual sessions are a great way to gain some insight into next year. The suggested donation is $40. Books yours here.
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