I arrived at Laziness desperate for an intellectual solitude I had been unable to find thus far. The task at hand was a printmaking and writing project, Mapping from the Margins, a project that had been developing over the months prior. In previous times, I had always been lucky enough to have a space for work—a studio, a desk in a building, or a nook in my childhood home—that I could call my own. What was important is that it was a place specifically for creative imaginings and that I could be alone there. The circumstances of this body of work had denied me the privacy that I felt was crucial for its development. I felt stuck. And so Laziness arrived when I needed it the most. My stay there sustained me. I needed a night to be with my thoughts and only them. I needed the room to think things through and my stay at Laziness allowed me to move the project to its completion. I left knowing what to do and how I was going to do it.
My time there was not relaxing insofar as I felt at peace; the space leaves no room for that. It is electrifying. The beauty of Laziness is that it is far from a neutral space, it feels expertly curated. The objects do not occupy their positions, they buzz in anticipation of how they might be useful to you. It is a feeling of being cared for that is hard to describe. Nothing is without reason. The space is really special. So special that I am almost fearful of returning. I want to keep it sacred, but I feel in my bones that I will be back. That feeling of being perfectly positioned is hard to deny.
What I ate in Laziness:
2. beef patty (always beef)
3. dominican beef stew
4. monkey bread
Of lesser importance, what I read in Laziness:
1. I Remember, Joe Brainard
2. The Law of Large Numbers, Rindon Johnson
3. Keeping Faith: Philosophy and Race in America, Cornel West
4. Palermo, Joe Scanlan
5. IYKYK, Estibaliz Matulewicz
6. I also engaged in a critical reading of my project and myself