The viewfinder as intimate space
A hole in a peach ring, our eyes overlapping, a hole punched in a piece of lined paper, an empty 35mm slide, all CDs have holes and all records do too, negative space becoming a window, one eye closed to reveal clarity of what's beyond, the letter form of an O or a zero, a camera small enough to fit in your palm, the way an agave plant makes spirals, “when two bodies embrace they become a window” (A History of my Brief Body, Belcourt), mesh, a spider web, a bite made by a worm in a leaf, my hands cupped open, blue sky shining through a ring of clouds, a note card with a tiny rectangle cut out the center of it, a door opening in a gust of wind, our hearts opening in a gust of wind.
All viewfinders are intimate invitations to look close and slow down
“You have to look at the world [in] small pieces at a time” says Corita Kent, who taught me to love this tool. “[The finder] is a device, which does the same things as the camera lens… It helps us take things out of context, allows us to see for the sake of seeing, and enhances our quick-looking and decision-making skills.” And I will add, that it does more than letting us see, but that it invites us to be holders of small breaths and smells, guides to a way of moving through this complicated world with patience and an improv-like play.
Viewfinders are scattered about my life, my car door, backpack (I just found six in there), in my hands always and the hands of friends, in my eyes and heart. A tool so flexible and rooted that I often feel like I become the viewfinder within my day to day life (but aren't we all). As a practitioner of the viewfinder, I am constantly finding new parts of this tool that I love, as well as the parts that I wish could be different. My most recent viewfinder desire has been to find ways to go on viewfinder walk without my phone! I love the idea of leaving the house with simple tools that hold simple roles that help you focus on the small nooks, shadows, moments around you. A beloved friend, photographer, poet and pen pal, suggested that I get a small digital camera off ebay, that can fit in my palm, a tool that has one function, to capture and keep that view for later. I’ve named it tiny. Its screen is the same size as the window my eye looks through in the yellow paper viewfinder I keep by my front door. Corita reminds us that yes the viewfinder is a camera and even though half my phone is full of viewfinder photos, I have never felt the draw of getting back to its original form, until now.
An opening, an invitation to move at the pace of slow
A click of a photo with a touch so light
A record of a walk, kept in my palm, in my pocket
A trace of my eye, to be printed and shared and sent and rolled again around and drawn into a new form and painted on
A print, a multitude, a broadcast
An opening, an invitation to move at the pace of slow. A window, blurry with life, clearing for a minute to let us in close. A shadow that gets crisper when held by a frame, a view that expands all frames and burns all forms of restriction, a view that holds and centers us and brings us close when we feel far, a view that expands and imagines new ways of living, a view to get free with!
The viewfinder is a ritual, a lifelong commitment of returning to.
Rituals as active tending to spaces and a trust in the mutual holding of.
Every Thursday, a friend and I leave poems on a google document, that over time will become a thick stack of treasure, in the mornings I go to the sun porch to greet the day, when I feel lost and stuck I walk to the art library and fill my bag with books until it's too heavy to bring back to my studio, on sunday nights we dance together to get free always with our kin, on Tuesdays we fill our bellies with tortilla soup and wish this ritual could last longer then the Spring, lighting candles on our altars in honor of those no longer here and those who need extra love, checking in on each other's heartbreaks over the phone and through letters sent in beautiful envelopes, moisturizing our ashy knees, working for a liberated Palestine in as many ways as we can, loving them all with clarity- living in the multitude, the viewfinder as a ritual, and in action, a viewfinder walk/wander/journey/flight.
All viewfinders are intimate invitations
All viewfinders are reminders of rituals that move slow
All viewfinders are poems, with feelings that touch
All the viewfinders are hiding in my car
All of your viewfinders are yours and sometimes they are mine too
All views are clues to our survival and arms reaching for support, showing up and follow through
All finders are finding eyes and hearts and arms to grow in
These are my views and I want to see yours too
Let’s notice slowly
If you are in Albuquerque, New Mexico this week, I am inviting you here to get lost in a window finder forming new ways, with me. On Friday, March 31, from 3-5pm mst, I will be hosting a collective journey led by and with finders in our hands and hearts, starting at The University of New Mexico Art Annex Graduate Studio Building (1901 Central Ave NE, Albuquerque, NM- entrance off of Redondo Drive). It is free and open to all! We will be starting promptly at 3pm mst, by making viewfinders together and then going on a walk together, that will probably last around an hour or so. Please wear comfy shoes, hats, bring water and bring a camera, your phone, a sketchbook, your preferred way of capturing life and that could be just your heart! We will be going slow and stopping often, breaks are always welcome. This will be an all outdoors event. If you feel sick or live with anyone who tests positive with COVID, please stay home and go on a viewfinder journey in your home.
I will also be hosting a few other offerings, a second workshop, which will be both a writing space and flag making zone (April 14), an open studio (April 13) and an artist talk (April 20), as a part of my visiting artist fellowship. Full flyer and info below. For more info, email art@unm.edu or visit art.unm.edu. If you are in NM, come join!!
Much of my viewfinder research and writing is rooted in my book Slow Looking: These View are our Tools (Published by Childish Books, 2021), Learning by Heart: Teachings to Free the Creative Spirit by Corita Kent and Jan Steward and the practices of Corita Kent.
Two other upcoming shows & spaces in which I am sharing my work in:
RHYTHM, a show of multiples & mail, opening on March 27, 4-6pm pst, 3007 SE Malcolm St, Milwaukie, OR 97222
QUEER MALL*, a mall of queer artists, makers and cultural workers, April 1, 2-6pm mst, Differential Brewing, 500 Yale Blvd, Albuquerque, NM, 87106
*I am honored to be co-organizing this event with Feeling Space and Moko Moko. I will also be selling my newest publication, We Web Keepers (Published by Printed Matter Inc., 2022) and a few other pieces!
Thank you for reading and subscribing and being so supportive as I make new rituals in this substack space &&&& special shout out to my beloved hun, Marlee Grace for shouting me out in your newsletter space & getting me on the featured new newsletter list <3