The sting…
An essay… actually more like a rant…
Mid summer an email was sent by my university encouraging people to apply for a grant for which there were still considerable amount of funds. I saw an opportunity to once again take a chance and apply. The amount I was asking was a little over half of its limit per applicant. I worked meticulously on the grant application revising as needed. Because it is a small grant, I thought I had a chance.
After the allotted time one is supposed to wait, there was silence. I waited a tad longer and again silence. When the waiting period amounted to six weeks, I emailed to ask about the status of it. I still need to purchase some materials to finish this work for Symbiosis V, which I talked about on this post. Four days passed after my email so I touched base again and got a response. The answer and comments would arrive at the end of day. In my mind I thought by five o’clock but the decision came much later than that. In the response an apology was expressed for the lateness of the update. And yes, it was rejected.
Proposals and grant applications get rejected often, of course. However, the reasons for the rejection of this one stung. There was a thin veil of mistrust and condescension in the explanation. At least it felt that way. Being rejected by the Guggenheim Fellowship does not hurt as much because the stakes are really high. Obviously the metrics are going to be harder to meet since one is competing with a significant number of professional artists who are several notches above my level. One expects not to get it. But, for an internal grant considerably smaller than the Guggenheim’s to support smaller projects to come back with stringent comments felt defeating.
Yes, of course I could have revised and resubmitted. I was however warned that there needs to be evidence of edits incorporating the comments. At this point, my sarcasm wanted to show off its prowess like a beast and say, “as in comment and answer in a bullet point list? Would that be satisfactory?”
My project entails action painting, which in my case means dancing on the actual surface and creating marks while dancing. My inspiration was Matisse who imagined movement and dance when painting the mural for The Barnes Foundation. He was not a dancer or a former dancer. I used to be a dancer thus I do not need to imagine it, I perform it as a tool to create. The type of dance does not matter as much as the fact that it is movement with the body and a brush on a yard stick.
Anger courted my heart and mind too. She was making loops around me and I was trying to keep her at bay. Ironically I was asked recently, what is in it for Alma? I had to say not much here right now.
Of course I am grateful to have a job that allows my children to enjoy great benefits. For sure. This job has allowed them to get an education for very little money due to the discounts and scholarships. If that is the only benefit, maybe I should renew my mind on that thought and ignore the rest. Only I can’t totally do that. I am still evaluated yearly. And I can’t stop my work because I feel called to do it and do it to the best of my abilities.
This is one of those situations where the solutions are not easily there. One silver lining is that the students who are attached to me really care for me. That makes me feel I am contributing something meaningful to their lives. Some of them are very, very dear to me, come to my office frequently to ask how I am doing, send me messages, and keep me updated with their lives even after graduation.
My friends, I realize this essay rant seems sad. But life is full of ups and downs. Life is easy—said no one ever. Let alone work. Yet, tomorrow is another day and with it, a new mercy will arrive. All I can do right now is doing what I know is right and not let myself be anxious about these things. And so will I.
Love,
Alma