The project is called Labor Pains, and at Week 22, the name feels more apt than ever. I am deep in the second trimester of this work—the second phase of the project, a time of rapid growth and palpable change. The metaphor of pregnancy is my constant companion. My work is a living, breathing dragon pregnant with a legion, and my task right now is to listen to it, to tend to it, to understand each unique beast taking shape within.
This is the heart of the Labor Pains Project—a co-created, communal healing practice that, by its very nature, must be aqueous and ever-changing. This month in Albany, in the thick of our body-mapping workshops, this truth has been my most faithful teacher. The core of this project is to use creative expression as a tool for communal healing, an act of arts advocacy against the totalitarian forces that always seek to silence the expressive first.
In co-creation, you must allow the plan to change. I learned this twice over this week.
First, in a simple, practical adjustment. To better honor the full scope of our labor, we began approaching the first prompts twice: once for paid work and once for unpaid. The new depth and texture in the shared stories was immediate and astounding.
The second lesson was more profound. I have a prompt that I know is flawed. The language isn’t right. During one workshop, this became a shared problem. We sat together, struggling to find the right words, to form the right question. We didn’t find it in the moment, and that was okay. Because the journey was the destination. The discussion that grew from that “failed” prompt unearthed a story of immense power from one participant, a story so impactful we are now planning a one-on-one interview to explore it further.
The flawed question, the moment of shared uncertainty, led us both to a powerful, breathtaking share.
This is the razor’s edge of art-making. You plan. Oh, I plan. And I revise the plan, and I work to execute it with care. But in the sacred space of co-creation, you must hold the plan loosely enough for magic to manifest. If you lean too heavily into what you want or expect, you will miss the very thing that takes your breath away.
And what artist doesn’t want to take their audience’s breath away?
This delicate, intensive work of listening, planning, and adapting is a true labor of love, but it is also a labor that requires resources. If you believe in the power of this aqueous, responsive art-making to foster communal healing, and if you see the value in work that stands as a living alternative to silencing, please consider supporting the project. Every contribution helps tend to this process, ensuring the dragon is nourished and the stories it carries can one day be born.
You can contribute to the work by visiting the Labor Pains Project GoFundMe.
For those in the Albany area, we will be holding our final workshop in this series on Sunday, July 20th, from 2:30 PM – 4:30 PM at the Arbor Hill branch of the Albany Public Library.
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