Dear friends,
Welcome to Artists Reach Out: reflections in a time of isolation. I dreamed this series of interviews out of grief for my work both as a documenting arts writer and curator of live performance. In this time of social distancing, we are called to responsibly do all we can to safeguard ourselves and our neighbors. It is, literally, a matter of life and death.
But there's no distancing around what we still can share with one another--our experiences, thoughts, wisdom, humor, hearts and spirit. In some ways, there are more opportunities to do so as we pull back from everyday busyness out in the world and have time to honor the call of our inner lives.
So, let me introduce you to some artists I find interesting. I'm glad they're part of our beautiful community, and I'm eager to engage with them again (or for the first time) in years to come.
--Eva Yaa Asantewaa, InfiniteBody
Mitsu Salmon
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| Mitsu Salmon (photo: Rich Matheson) |
Mitsu Salmon creates performance and visual works that fuse multiple disciplines. She was born in Los Angeles to a Japanese mother and an American father. Creating in differing media—translating one medium to another—is connected to the translation of differing cultures and languages. Salmon received her MFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in 2014 and her undergrad degree from New York University. She has participated in artist residencies at Taipei Artist Village (Taiwan), Incheon Art Platform (Korea), Oxbow (MI), Guildhall (NY) and PAM (LA) as well as in Chicago at Links Hall, High Concept Lab, HATCH, and the Chicago Cultural Center. She has performed solo work at places such as Performance Space 122, Dance Theater Workshop, and Highways Performance Space. She has received the Midwest Nexus Touring Grant, Chicago Dancemaker’s Lab Grant, and DCASE IAP.
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| Mitsu Salmon (above: courtesy of the artist; below: Nick Witten) |
Do you have a current or planned project whose progress is affected by the pandemic?
Yes, I was working on a solo performance called Orchid about the history and symbolism of orchids as connected to imperialism, sexuality, and the environment. The piece looks at the choreography of plants, both in terms of physical gestures and their human-intervened transportation. This work was supported through a lab grant from the Chicago Dancemakers Forum which is the biggest grant and opportunity I have received so far.
For the last year, I was given a rehearsal space, working weekly with a dramaturg and collaborating with sound artists. Right before the stay-at-home orders in Chicago, I was scheduled to share a work-in-progress performance of the piece. But that was canceled, and the talks for the final showing postponed.
Now I am wondering how to pick up this work again? How do I stay engaged when I have no idea when it can be performed? How do I develop the piece outside of a dance studio and in my small living room? How can this work and process feel relevant given what is happening in the world?
Briefly, tell me about how you got involved in the arts and in your particular practice.
My father is a multidisciplinary artist and runs an experimental theater company, Open Gate. When I was a child, I would accompany him to his rehearsals and started dancing in his shows when I was eight. I went to an arts high school in Los Angeles, where I majored in theater. It was there I realized I actually wasn't interested in conventional theater and began making videos, writing, and doing these irreverent public performances. My practice currently blends and interweaves multiple art forms such as dance, voice, and visual arts as ways of non-linear storytelling.
In a more specific way, what are you practicing? And what are you envisioning?
The other day I was speaking to my friend, Nami, who is a gardener. She had been commissioned to grow specialized plants by restaurants. But now those restaurants are struggling, and she is unsure if they will need her vegetables. When I asked her what she is going to do, she said, "Keep growing!" I then said, "Do you mean internally or keep growing your plants?" She said, "Both."
This struck me. She was going to keep tending to her garden even though she doesn't know where her vegetables will go. And I will tend to my visions even though I don’t know where they will go.
As an artist right now, with only canceled or postponed opportunities and unsure of the point of my efforts, part of me wants to just let the ground go fallow. However, after speaking to her and inspired by the plants, I envision and aim towards growth. To water, weed and give sunlight to the seeds spread despite not knowing where and how their fruition manifests.
How does your practice and your vision align with what you most care about?
My current practice is talking to family and friends, cooking, taking walks, reading the news, hugging my partner, and processing what is happening through dance vignettes and watercolors. I envision this growing into something new that I don't even know yet. I want to invest my energy into a larger project. But, with all this shifting of the world of my world, and focusing on care and grieving, I find it challenging to concentrate for things beyond the immediate. Even to respond to these questions took discipline.
I care about roots and relationships. Roots reaching and grounded in the body, in life, in family, in history, and in possibilities. Relationships of care. Seeing now more than ever how deeply interdependent we all are.
How does your practice function within the world we have now?
My practice is in the world now, in sanitizing, grieving, foraging for food, breathing, avoiding people, washing my hands, taking Instagram dance classes, zoom birthday parties, worrying, more worrying, and then feeling okay for a moment.
DISCLAIMER: In addition to my work on InfiniteBody, I serve as Senior Curatorial Director of Gibney. The postings on this site are my own and do not necessarily reflect the views, strategies or opinions of Gibney.
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