The Worlds We Build, The Words We Seek
I was in a game of magnetic poetry (the one where you arrange little word tiles into short poems) with a few Midwest-based friends late last year. Funny how all of us were envious of the words the other person had.
"Ah, you have such a good collection of words!"
as if theirs would help us articulate what we wanted
“If only I had _______”
like mourning our loss—for words, for worlds
as if we could build the worlds we want
with others' words
In 2016, my partner and I drove into Sioux Falls with a U-Haul in tow (and a baby in my belly) from Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. Off the interstate, my partner said, “Oh boy, what have we done! We’ve made a big mistake!” Jokingly, in the most serious tone. I assumed he was talking about the move.
Unknown to me—this place, where he grew up—I couldn’t imagine what I’d find. In a loss for words because I didn’t know them yet.
It’s almost been a decade, and I've been in countless conversations that have expressed the place we live in as lacking—grieving our perceived invisibility from the worlds where our expressions go unrecognized. Art carries with it this notion of “being seen” → exposure.
The coasts are seen as dimensional (and exciting), but the middle is a collection of plain ol’ squares (well mostly, almost-rectangles).
It seems as though discussions associated with the Midwest, its arts and cultures, and artmaking here often relate to loss* of some kind.
*loss: physical, tangible, abstract, or intangible; loss that results in absence or seeking; loss as being forgotten; loss as amiss; loss as missed out; loss as in lacking
It’s a lens that's been placed in front of us and we, as a community, carry it forward and pass it on. Burdened, we either choose to change focus or get stuck on this channel.
Leave, Remain
Bluer skies to these green pastures
I moved and stayed
I never knew of this place before
I chose it with abandon
So, how do I set sail now
When green is my favorite color
Leaves, Remains
I’ve been thinking about loss a lot these last few years. This idea of missing (out on) something and what’s found in that feeling of loss. How do I turn the page (find or embrace what’s next) in the face of loss or perceived loss? As ◌ revelation, movement, revolution ◌
***
In this MdW Atlas series, I invited collaborators-contributors Robert Bordeaux, Sara Telahun, and Hanna Thompson (as well as Epiphany Knedler over on Lumpen Radio) to consider the prompt: What’s found in loss?
They all have connections to and relationships with/in this land and the communities of this place. In their considerations, they each turn their focus to the ways we come to revelation in spaces of questioning, in spaces of [loss]. They examine and express how they navigate (to) this idea of “finding.”
They direct us to see the threads of connection between being and making—as individuals, peoples, artists, organizers, culture bearers, and educators. It’s been interesting to see their approach and the different space/place they’re coming from.
As someone who has moved a lot (Seventeen flats-houses-apartments, 9 cities, 2 countries) in the last 3 decades, change has been a constant. It’s been a long-built practice of seeking (and finding), rather than getting consumed by loss. It was always about rebuilding and shaping the things in that moment to fit our needs. Mold and embrace.
Finding ways to be in new spaces, with new people. Ways to live. Without your family, while you create your own. Within new cultures and away from your homelands.
Seeking comfort. Playing, making, processing.
I came into “art making” alongside motherhood, in the first few months of living in Sioux Falls. Of course, it’d been a practice long before that—sketching every day, painting and gardening on the weekend, cooking, sewing—but I just didn’t know it till 2017. Working with texts and textiles came from a longing to find something I could call my own. Somewhere I could explore how my family traditions (my paternal grandfather was a poet and my maternal grandmother was a weaver) intersected with my individual identity (and lived experience). All that has led to a publishing practice, including projects like Sound + Color, No Business Magazine, and an ongoing collaborative installation series.
In this (slow, evolving) practice, I’ve found my art through pausing, playing, and sometimes stopping. The only constant in all of it: I can’t do what I do without collaborators. Whether through “small” support systems (free childcare, leftover paper stock, links to articles) or actual co-creation (screen printing in the basement, designing books on books, hosting a reception, curating an exhibition), my practice has been built up by people around me. They’ve helped me nurture my art. I’ve found care, curiosity, and comfort here.
I find them when I’m open to the spaciousness of art making, mostly outside the constraints of capitalism and its contouring of “meaningful” community (or connections). I find them in new (slow) friendships and old (inherited) relationships. I find them when I share what I love and ask questions about what I don’t know yet. I find them in new spaces, just by consistently (persistently?) showing up for artists and their art.
As a person who struggles to identify as an “artist,” I’m often reminded by my partner (Eli Show: artist, musician, maker of things, ride/die collaborator) that “there are no rules” in art and we’re just sharing what we love (and find meaningful) with other people. To me, these two things sound core to artist-led projects and explorations in community-building.
Creating our spaces,
Sharing in meaning.
The worlds we build,
When we find the words we seek.
As I look around at artist-led communities I admire and/or have the privilege of being a part of in this place, I want to lift up the people sharing what they love in Sioux Falls and in other parts of South Dakota. Here are some, in no particular order—follow and learn more about their work, or if you’re local, go support them!
Racing Magpie (Rapid City)
Art Collective SF (Sioux Falls)
Full Circle Book Co-op (Sioux Falls)
Red Rooster Coffee House (Aberdeen)
Nis’to Incorporated (Sisseton)
Black Hills Writers Collective (Spearfish)
Midwest Nice Art (Aberdeen)
Untitled.10 (Sioux Falls)
Mural On The Wall (Vermillion)
Post Pilgrim Gallery (Sioux Falls)
Oyate Studio (Eagle Butte)
Friends of the People (Sioux Falls)
Ipso Gallery at Fresh Produce (Sioux Falls)
It’s 2025 and I’m in my ninth year of living in Sioux Falls. Here’s what I’m thinking about today:
How do we nurture exploration
One that doesn’t have any rules
Not shaped by what people want to see from us
One that’s a gift
That’s shared, just because
And then shared again,
Just because.
Art and exploration is in:
how you string things together
how you connect ideas to action
how you show up
how you say, “tell me more”
how you say “I love you”
To Eli: thank you for bringing your home, Sioux Falls, to me. And now I know, the “big mistake” was just a comment about zoos and the miles-long stretch of fast food off the Interstate.
