Countdown to Memory

For me, my final exhibit was already here, I was here in my last mill space, it was time, and I didn’t want it to be. I didn’t want my 18 years to be over.

I certainly try not to think about how this 9th exhibit—of which these little things are part—is about to complete my 18-year project overall. All of this would be too big, too overwhelming.

Each floor is the ground for my installations, and I get this surface ready, much like a painter would prepare a canvas before beginning to paint.

I’m preparing for how I’ll feel after something which has been the largest part of my existence for so long. But the truth is, there’s no way to get ready. I won’t really know how I’ll feel until this is done.

When my solo biennials are done, I will make my life smaller. Less intense. Slower. Eliminate. Do only what I love most.

You would think after 17 years, eight mills, and eight solo biennials that securing the ninth mill space for my ninth solo biennial would be easy-pee-zeety.

Mike the Builder (Mike Feliccitti) is my chief carpenter. He’s been building the underlying structures for my solo biennials since my sixth biennial (TIME, 2010).

I want to share three things that at some point during my 18 years didn’t go as I saw them going, three things that didn’t go as planned.

Before I knew I was an artist, I knew how lucky I was to find someone who supported me and anything I wanted to do.

My first two solo biennials (EXPERIENCE in 2000 and MOVEMENT in 2002) had interactive installations which involved entering, perceiving, maintaining, perpetuating, and moving things around.

After my first solo biennial exhibit of interactive installation (EXPERIENCE, 2000), I started giving artist talks—as many as I could.

Thousands of things are precisely placed. Each mill floor, column, sill has been uber-cleaned of all specks. And the first thing the audience sees: Please Read Before You Proceed.

After each solo biennial, I spend my 22nd month of its 22-month process making space for the next biennial’s work.

Committing to what would be an 18-year, not-for-profit, large-scale installation art project in abandoned Maine mill spaces was risky business.

I thought I’d share 18 things I’ve done these past 18 years to manage my time. I’m not suggesting you spin your arms and leg too.

My brain is at its peak creative-juices-flowing-in-my-noggin time first thing. So, I start with tasks benefiting most from this level of cranium-ness.