What do we do with what we have learned?

Upon a recent viewing of The Peabody Museum’s Oceanic collection, it struck me that I need to do something more with the knowledge that I have gained. As I peered into case after case, I realized that I could make many of those artifacts myself. Mine would be less refined than a master's work, but I know the essence of the making, learned and lived in the boats, beaches and jungles of many places. After spending fifteen years in and out of isolated island villages, I have acquired a layman's knowledge in the making of artifacts. From mat weaving, tapa pounding, harpoon carving, costume creation, seed work, feather work, pottery, fish hook carving…the list goes on and on. But here I sit upon the fair isle of Manhattan wearing the most unlikely face for the keeper of traditional knowledge.

Something about my nature allowed me into the lineage. I appear completely harmless, I am fearless, athletic, and in their eyes, completely lost. So I become adopted quite readily, and then promptly put to work. My pied piper personality type keeps me in good company in all times, and my young consorts allow me to add amateur linguist to my skill set. I can say niceties to appease all of the tribal elders just in case they stopped by to check on my fern frond costume.

Not only am I a ready gatherer, but I have also been known to display remarkable hunting tendencies. In the past I have displayed underwater harpooning skills, the ability to make a woven grass harness for carrying land crabs back to the village (so they are unable to break your fingers) I can bring a rock fish up a 350ft cliff face without teenage seagulls getting it, I can hold a stone to my chest and plunge to the bottom of the sea to collect clams- without busting my lungs-and so many more useful skills. But what do I do with this knowledge here?

As artists our lives and our work are so intertwined. But right now I feel like there is a great rift between my daily life here in New York and the knowledge filled, more traditional life that I naturally return to when I get away from this place. Artists are not always known for their adventuring ways. Society views artists as urban dwellers, subway riders, cafe sitters. I even know one New York artist who proudly backs this social view by claiming that he will not travel to any place where you cannot buy a proper cappuccino. During my transit to the museum, my seat mate turned to me and said, “so you made it all the way to Boston all by yourself?” Knowing that he had already learned that I was travelling from New York, I decided to let that one go. I made really big eyes and blinked them twice before responding, “I sure did” as I quietly began carving a harpoon.