Letting Go While Holding On
A BFA exhibition by Kellan Sneed.
The featured books are made from foraged plant material taken from Kellan’s garden, and bound using a range of binding techniques.
Nothing is created in a vacuum. I would be kidding no one if I didn't acknowledge the time during which this project was made. The misery of isolation. The fear of the unknown. The frustration of overexposure in our constricted social circles. Writing this now - for an audience that may very well have moved on by the time they read this - is... maddening.
This series began to form shortly after the isolation began, as an acknowledgement of the stress I was in, and the innate need to make some small part of my day count for something...
... also, my BFA show ideas kept getting kicked by the cold, hard, steel-toed boots of reality, but I digress...
I started by preserving flowers. I knew initially that I wanted to create books with them; but they would need to be kept safe if I was to share them with my classmates. I spent several days researching preservation methods, looking for a way to keep these beautiful things fresh in all their glory, but I only found disappointment. Every method came at I cost that I could not pay.
It wasn't until a week into my experiments that I came to an epiphany. Staring at the cherry trees outside my window, full of blooms that would be gone within days, I realized I was trying to meditate for my audience, when I instead needed to create for myself. Instead of being saddened that these beautiful things would fade, I would be heartened by their presence now. I would make a book every day for my own enjoyment and would learn more about bookmaking as I did. I failed; but in doing so, I learned far more valuable lessons in coping with confusion and grief in a time defined by them.
Kellan Sneed, BFA Studio Art
April 6th, Beginning to End
It started with a few leaves and some thread, quietly bound together.
April 7th, May Contain Spiky Bits
Just a few minutes out of my day creating something to differentiate one day from another.
April 8th, Oak in Coptic
A way of exploring ideas as they came...
April 9th, Well Bound
... unrefined as they might be.
April 10th, Gift
I'd never had much trouble bending the definition of a book. Removing external criticism only made that easier.
April 12th, Twins
If I missed a day, I could hold myself accountable. These were my rules I was following, and I could change them as I pleased.
April 13th, Möbius Ivy
I made things purely for the joy of making myself laugh. I still don't know if this was a Möbius loop; I simply had too much fun with the idea to care.
April 15th, The Goal, the Leavings... and Potato Soup
But like a good bowl of soup, nothings ever lasts as long as you'd like.
April 21st, Every Day is Exactly the Same (Because I Need Some Fucking Stability Right Now)
Projects and responsibilities began to pile up, and it became harder for me to create, both physically and mentally.
And then... and then I lost a companion. My young cat Holly, whom I had helped raise as a foster almost from the time her eyes first opened, had to be put to sleep. Losing someone you love is heartbreaking. But to lose someone now, after months of doing everything in your power to figure out what's wrong. To keep them going. Just one more day. Just one more moment. It... broke something inside me; something I'm still not sure how to put back together.
The days immediately following were soul-crushing. Everywhere I went in the house seemed to serve as a reminder. I struggled with hallucinations as my already poor sleeping habits became even more destructive.
April 30th, Light Finds A Way
It took nearly a week to move forward again. Slowly opening up and talking with friends - some of whom have faced similar struggles, many worse - I slowly began to realize the lesson my project was slowly teaching me:
Everything fades.
Nothing is eternal.
We love the Now,
so we may love its memory tomorrow.