unfolding origami gallery

So what happens if you withdraw attention from the objects in space and become aware of space itself? What is the essence of this room? The furniture, pictures, and so on are in the room, but they are not the room. The floor, walls, and ceiling define the boundary of the room, but they are not the room either. So what is the essence of the room? Space of course, empty space.

— Eckhart Tolle from The Power of Now

When Yvette asked me to visit A Week in the Woods and write something about the works being produced in there - I was in a undergoing some extreme changes - I was between homes, between cities, All my belongings had been packed, given away, or sold. My visit fell right in the middle of a month of housesitting and couch surfing. Being in this state made me particularly sensitive to issues of space. I didn’t have my own place and as a result was very sensitive to the objects, smells colors and sounds that make someone’s space their own. Over that month I breathed in other people’s cigarette smoke dust and cat fur, rolled up my foam mattress every morning and carried my toothbrush with me at all times. It therefore came as a relief to retreat into the spare room that is A Week in the Woods.

The room is in the back of Yvette’s place. To get to it I had to pass through three doors and two heavy felt curtains. It’s hidden not only from the street but also from the rest of the apartment. It’s unlikely that one would stumble into this room accidentally. It’s free of any sort of clutter. There are no visible decorations. There are no posters, full bookshelves, clothes hampers, no TV, no ringing phone. There are none of the distractions that so often render us distracted. It seems to me that for many of the artists getting away to this place where they could decompress was as much a part of the experience as the creation of work.

That time among the trees offered a much-needed respite. Reading through the forms showed me that the trees often acted as an uncritical audience, a group of twiggy comrades. While I was there I remembered learning that plants grew better when they were talked to. If this is the case the week in the woods seedlings should soon grow to be quite tall indeed.

When I finally decided to open up the box I found that it changed both the space and my state of mind. When I opened the box and began spreading out the pictures, pieces of writing, tapes and mysterious paper leaves the empty room became suddenly full. I luxuriated in the sounds of Catherine Kidd’s whispered stories as I looked at watercolors and little drawings of the trees. For a long time I just stared at the trees while listening to the Flutter CD.

A Week in the Woods is many things. It’s a monastic hotel room for the overworked wanderer, an unfolding origami gallery; it’s a dream room for Estragon and Vladimir. Its all these things and more, which make it difficult to talk about.

In A Week in the Woods Yvette seems to have created a state of mind. The artists who participated in the project were enthusiastic tourists in that state as far as I can tell. The room gave them ample space to unpack their brains. The things that unravelled in that room are lovely. But really, A Week in the Woods was not about lovely finished products. It was about a process that each individual underwent on their own. In creating this place Yvette seems to have invited the participants to set aside anxiety and expectations and in her words ‘submit to the stay’. I for one, welcomed that opportunity with an open head.

(return to A Week in the Woods intro)