Monday, March 14, 2016
Guest Blog Joanna Chen, Entry One
The following is reprinted from Garnet News. VCCA Fellow Joanna Chen, who lives in Israel, is writing a six part account of her residency at VCCA. (All images, Joanna Chen)
Writing this six-week series on my stay at VCCA began as a mode of accountability, a vehicle of self-responsibility.. Coming all this way was a big deal for me and I wanted very much to map it week by week. This is my own personal desire line and i don't want to lose track of the work that lies before me or the creative dialogue that constantly emerges between the artists, musicians and writers here. Garnet News was willing to support this idea.
Amherst, Virginia – I needed this much more than I knew when I first applied for a residency at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. I was working hard translating a book, preparing another book of translated poetry for publication, keeping the house more or less in shape, keeping the family together, attending writing groups, and trying to earn enough money to keep my head above water.
I heard about this residency from a poet friend in Washington, DC. After I had applied, we’d Skype together, and I would hold my hand up, shaping the letters V-C-C-A with my fingers, laughing. It was a long shot, but I really wanted it. When I heard I’d been accepted, a couple of months later, I was ecstatic. As the date for leaving drew nearer, however, I panicked.
I pride myself on being a good mother, on always being there for my three children, even though two of them have already left home. They still need me, and I need them. How would they manage without me?
The residency lasted for six weeks, and I had never been away from my family for such a long time. I pride myself on being a good mother, on always being there for my three children, even though two of them have already left home. They still need me, and I need them. How would they manage without me? A girlfriend whom I had confided in patted me on the back and told me to have fun — adding dryly that she was much too attached to her own children to leave them for such a long time. I bit my lip. I’m attached to my kids, too. I considered shortening the residency. I considered canceling the whole thing. I asked myself why I needed to travel thousands of miles to do what I was doing anyway: writing.
I am here, on the other side of the world, the afternoon hours stretched out before me. This is my first week, and I’m jet-lagged and bleary-eyed. The snow that fell the night I arrived has melted. I have six weeks to grow and develop my skills as a writer, to dialogue with other writers, composers and artists who are part of this unique community. The prospect is both exciting and daunting — this tremendous urge to create coupled with my own responsibility to deliver the goods, to live up to expectations. I know I will miss my family, but I also know that this is where I need to be right now.