Nostalgic, diasporic and enthusiastic folk were invited to rediscover feelings of home with a memory box workshop facilitated by Jade Sullivan, the educator-in-residence at Carleton University Art Gallery (CUAG). Held in the heart of CUAG’s A Dream of Return exhibit on Oct. 30, Sullivan encouraged attendees to grow through finding an artistic sense of return.
For her first solo workshop, Sullivan said she drew inspiration from Palestinian poet and author Mahmoud Darwish’s idea of “return” as a dream which transcends time.
“I wanted to talk about futurity, not just in a future sense but in past and present, how we can represent ourselves over time,” Sullivan said.
The memory box workshop pushed the exploration of art as a means of self-rediscovery, reconnection with youthfulness and retracing of life events. The practice of workshopping physical memory boxes allowed for participants to create crafts which tangibly preserve their experiences.
Frames of mind
Sullivan began the event by inviting participants on a tour around the art gallery. Focusing on the A Dream of Return exhibit, she emphasized works that featured diasporic communities and examples of African futurity.
“[There are] different reasons for every piece,” she said. “I wanted pieces that speak to people, where you don’t really have to think too hard.”
As the group walked and paused to absorb, Sullivan posed questions that forced observers to dive deeper into their consciousness. They were asked to analyze artists’ intentions, historical significance and long-lasting impact in real time.
Taking lessons from exhibits around the gallery, Sullivan highlighted the value in reflecting on your geopolitical context and finding something meaningful in every situation. Sullivan’s selections called for public awareness about previously and presently overwritten diasporic communities — entire civilizations trapped in a present that lack the option to return.
“The people from Palestine’s lives have been eradicated, Benin people have been erased off the face of the map — [it’s happening] as we speak,” she said.
Attending a memory box event and CUAG for the first time, Zoairia Haque, a Carleton political science student, said she was overwhelmed by the raw impact of the works in front of her.
“I wasn’t expecting a lot from the art exhibit but I was really surprised,” she said. “It helped me get into the emotions for the craft.”
Four walls and a lid
After the gallery tour, Sullivan redirected the group’s attention to the memory box station, placing an empty cardboard box and sheet of blank paper in front of each attendee.
Sullivan instructed them to write a letter of hope to their younger self. This was one of many letters that attendees would write throughout the day.
“I love journaling personally, but we’re all busy people and we forget sometimes. Letters let us have this space that really reassures us, like an internal hug,” Sullivan said.
For a Carleton student who has requested to be anonymous for safety concerns, writing to her past self created a sense of longing.
“The way that I interpret ‘home’ or the idea of ‘return’ is related to a sense of comfort and protection, not necessarily in a place but my own body,” the student said. “When I was writing to my past self, [my former] sense of playfulness and willingness to receive pleasure and joy without fear was something I realized I really missed.”
Sullivan prompted attendees to write two more letters: one to their future self and the other to their present self.
Alongside the letters, individuals created crafts associated with different points of their lives. Clay, beads, metal wire, magazines and a pile of other materials sat on the memory box table.
To Sullivan, a memory box, like a home, is not something you always leave locked.
“It’s really beautiful, in the idea of ‘returning’ and ‘futurity,’ to create something that you can open up again and again.”
As artists forged their pieces, Norah Jones, Louis Armstrong and other jazz artists echoed through the room’s speaker. For Sember Wood, a fourth-year Carleton journalism student, the tunes reignited a musical memory.
“I’ve been thinking about [my dad] and family in terms of ‘home’ a lot recently,” Wood said. “There was this jazz song, [“Yellow Bird” by The Mills Brothers], and we would dance around. I remember I would lay on the kitchen tiles and he would grab my arms and pull me through his legs, hoist me into the air and I’d be flying and laughing.”
Growing pains
For Haque, a sense of home is deeply connected to physical space.
“Because I’ve lived in [a lot of] places at different times in my life, they hold different memories and atmosphere,” Haque said. “Japan is from my early childhood, Bangladesh from my childhood later on and Canada is present me.”
Haque added that senses of home are personal creations, and growing up with frequent movement has shifted her mindset on permanent relationships. She said diaspora runs deeper than borders, or a lack thereof.
“People that have grown up in Ottawa, for example, have contact with their kindergarten friends. They have the ability to be high-school sweethearts,” she said. “When you move, especially across oceans, you kind of lose that … but eventually you’ll find your new home.”
Assessing her own physical geography, Wood agreed with Haque’s sentiment.
“Since moving to Ottawa, and finding my way through school and through friends, I’ve been able to create a new kind of home for myself,” she said.
The glue
Attendees shared that engaging with feelings of home and return can be challenging but also enriching. Wood said she practices many techniques when missing her family.
“Listening to sad music and longingly looking out the bus window [used to make me] feel better,” Wood said.
She added she’s been “figuring out new strategies for how to cope” with being away from her family, including “moving outside of yourself” and prioritizing peace beyond material belongings.
“Dishes that I used to eat from or little ornaments my sister made from the duvet cover on our childhood bunk beds may be helpful,” she said, adding that she finds the most peace when surrounded by her “people.”
“I feel that sense of home when I feel understood. It’s more of a feeling we create together,” Wood said.
Haque said material goods can provide reassurance and comfort.
“I need to read through my old diaries, look at photos,” she said. “I need reminders to keep my memory fresh or else I start to lose parts of it.”
Wood, learning from the regrets of her grandmother who asked that her journals be burned when she passes, said she has started to prioritize memory preservation through creativity.
“I’m trying to create things like that now so that my future self has something to look back on,” she said, citing the CUAG memory box as an example.
“I think a lot of us have grown up without a place to feel all the feelings, or be in connection with ourselves because we’re always busy and trying to mask ourselves in other ways,” Sullivan said. “Home is not a place, it’s a feeling and it is here right now.”
Sullivan said she hoped to leave workshop participants more confident in their ability to return to the sense of home that lives inside each of them.
“Home is a feeling, it is self, it is happiness and vulnerability. It is to feel all the feelings, whether they be good or bad, to hold space for them regardless.”
Featured image by Matheus Modesto-Nelson/the Charlatan.
