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Adventure Playground Playground Adventure

Adventure Playground building

One of the distinct benefits of choosing the career path I’ve chosen and having the lifestyle that I do is that sometimes I get to spend time working on projects simply because I believe in them, and those projects can happen during traditional working hours.  For a couple of weeks in July, I was helping with one of these very kinds of projects.  There’s a project going on right now at the Smith Playground, a gem located in Fairmount Park here in Philadelphia that provides a safe place for kids to get away from the concrete jungle, revel in bucolic splendor and just play.  And did I mention there’s a hundred-year-old wooden slide there, too?  Seriously, it’s a pretty amazing place.

The project is part of the run-up to Greenbuild, which is the U.S. Green Building Council’s annual conference set to be held in Philly in November.  Each Greenbuild has what’s called a Legacy Project, a way for the conference to leave a legacy in the place where the gathering is held.  Philly’s Legacy Project entails building an Adventure Playground at Smith.  (You can read more about the nuts and bolts of the project in my articles on Grid and iSpring‘s blogs.)  What’s an Adventure Playground, you say?  Well, it’s just about what you’d expect from the name.  It’s a space for kids to build their own adventure as they play with free-form materials to make stuff, storytell and imagine themselves in a different world–all as they engage with the natural environment around them.  Sounds pretty cool, right?  I assure you–it is.

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Arts Festival Aftermath

TAAF Booth

This past weekend, I participated in the Trenton Avenue Arts Festival.  It was an experimental endeavor, for sure, and my friend and fellow artist, Beth Nentwig, agreed to participate in the experiment with me.  My mom also contributed some very cool bracelets that she’s been making for the last several months.  From a sales perspective, the event was an abject failure.  I sold nothing.  Not one thing.  Not even a single hand-printed linocut card.  Needless to say, it was disheartening.

In the 24 hours following the event, as I reflected on the festival, I figured I had a couple of ways to approach it.  I could take the defeatist approach:  “This is proof that the things I make have no value, and therefore I should just give up making them and trying to sell them.”  But that’s not really my style.  Plus, one data point hardly seems like enough to draw conclusions about the value of one’s work or whether exhibiting at future art festivals has value.  I could make excuses (some of which might even be valid):  “The festival goers were cheap.  The rain kept people from making last-minute purchases.  The audience wasn’t right.”  That might make me feel a little better about myself, but it really doesn’t prepare me for future sales endeavors.  And it’s not really my style, either.

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Lost

The Woods

Something hasn’t felt quite right for the last several weeks.  Life has felt especially hard, which I know is difficult to believe for those of you who subscribe to the notion that there’s “Wittchen Good Fortune.”  (I know you’re out there.)  But really, it’s been like the universe has been conspiring to make things trickier than usual.  I don’t expect things to be easy–in fact, I often find myself falling prey to the spurious notion that if it’s not hard, it’s not worth doing (see also: why I went to engineering school)–but I do believe that if things become too hard, they may not be meant to be.  (It’s a weird dichotomy of thought, I know.)  I’ve been having trouble focusing and motivating myself to do almost anything, and several initiatives I’m involved in seem to be going through rough patches.  I feel like I haven’t been doing enough, and then I’m not entirely sure what I should be doing.  I’ve been feeling paralyzed by the fact that I have so many projects that I want to start, but only a small handful of them offer an immediate financial benefit.  In short, I’ve been lost.

It all came to a head last week when I did something supremely stupid–I deleted my website.  (Yes, this one.)  It’s a long, technical and boring story how I did it, but for someone who self-identifies as being meticulous and careful, it was a real blow to my ego.  Right in front of me was the electronic manifestation of how I’d been feeling but couldn’t put a finger on.  Not only was I metaphorically lost, but now a big part of my electronic life was literally, well, lost.  I wanted to throw up.

I’ve gone through these directionless periods before, and almost always there’s a little signpost along the way that tells me that I need to do something different.  The signpost usually comes in the form of doing something that’s uncharacteristic for me–something that challenges one of my own internal stories.  You know the stories–the ones we tell ourselves about who we are, who we’re supposed to be and how we’re supposed to feel and act.  Sometimes those stories are helpful guides for how to live our lives and other times they’re just…stories.

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