Intention Setting: December 29, 2022-January 5, 2023
The Mission:
I’ll be honest: I’ve always kind of hated New Year’s Eve. The holiday just feels so arbitrary and made up and silly, and so do the resolutions that go with it. That said, while I’m not a fan of new year’s resolutions, I do believe it’s smart and healthy to set intentions for yourself, regardless of what time of year you do it—not in a woo-woo, witchy, vision board type of way, necessarily—just in whatever way helps you take stock of where you are and where you want to be going forward. So for this week, make art of any kind you like that represents you setting intentions for the future, be that 2023 or the coming decade or just next Tuesday. Up to you whether you want to share your actual intentions or just art that shows you setting some. Extra points if you actually stick to your plan. :)
The Submissions:
by Espy la Copa
Spreadsheets. So many, all the time, everywhere.
I have 15 (so far) major to-do goals for 2023 that are currently stored on a Google Sheet shared by my husband. It helps to get it all down in one place so I don't feel overwhelmed. However, the more I look at it, the more overwhelmed I get.
But I'm a little addicted to crossing things off a list.
Make 2023 spreadsheet
by Heart of Darkness
The new year and resolutions give me a fair amount of anxiety, but I can get behind some intention setting. And Sufjan’s version of Auld Lang Syne (with a special shout out to Andrew Bird’s version too) does hold a soft spot in my heart.
Travel more. Anywhere. Near or far. Just travel.
Spend more time with friends, in person. Spend less time saying we’re going to get together.
See more live music. Don’t really care who or where, just that I do it.
Stay on track with comps and dissertation stuff. Neeeeeeed forward progress.
by Anonymous Frau Redux
Hello 2023!
Last year was busy for the Anonymous Frau Redux family: a college graduation for the youngest, moved the grad back home and they started a new job, traveled with friends and back home to family, and our oldest got married.
During the fall my get up and go had gone away. Now after the holidays, “normal” schedules resume and the nearly blank calendar is full of potential.
Although it may seem to be a jumble, the photo captures my 2023 intentions: resuming daily walks (for my health and tiring out the dog), committing to decreasing the size of my yarn stash (some new exciting coming up and the old faithful projects), staying in touch via snail mail (who doesn’t like something that’s not a bill in the letter box?), stepping back to let the little birds fly from the nest (they’re grown and ready for new adventures), and have fun while being my authentic self.
Cheers to your 2023.
by Captain Quillard
While I’ve never really been someone who puts much stock in religion or prayer or ceremonial behaviors performed to try to magically achieve some desired outcome, there is something about ritual and tradition and the elements and meditation and the like that speaks to me in some way. I think, at it’s simplest level, it may have something to do with simply being a way to achieve focus — for someone like me who is often anxiety-ridden and stuck in his head, it’s nice — necessary, even — to perform some kind of ritual or action that can momentarily shut all (or most) of that off and let me live in the moment for a brief, fleeting amount of time.
My sister lives in Duluth, Minnesota, and about a mile down her street from her house is an old park, nestled among the birch and pine trees. The main focal point of that park is a tall observatory tower that sits up on a hill and provides great views of the city and Lake Superior below. But my favorite part of the park is a small Japanese-influenced garden with wooden bridges and bonsai-like shrubbery and some Zen sand pits raked with soothing lines in the summer months. This all leads to a pagoda-ish structure that houses a large cast iron peace bell in honor of Duluth’s Japanese sister city.
Years ago, I unintentionally started what became a tradition for me. Now, every time I visit, I find time to walk to the park by myself, accessed by hiking up a trail on the side of a hill, and make my way to the bell. I try to clear my head for a minute, think about the past year or several months, and focus on some intentions going forward. As I do this, I ring the bell, and stand there until its reverberations have finished. It doesn’t always make me feel better. It doesn’t even often result in me seeing my intentions through to fruition. But I like doing it, and it’s become an important ritual for me whenever I’m in town.
Most years I make the trek on Christmas Day. This year, a winter storm forced us to postpone our trip by a week, so I went on New Year’s Day instead. Duluth had about two feet of snow on the ground, and drifting had created parts where it was three to four feed deep. This made for a difficult hike up the hill — every third step or so resulted in my leg sinking deep into the snow and getting stuck for a moment until I could pull myself out and forward. By the time I reached the bell, I was panting wildly and had to sit in a snow drift for a while to catch my breath. But I made it there, and I made it back, and the bell was rung for another year. Along the way, I took the last photo above of a wild plant buried in the snow but peeking its way out. As cheesy as it sounds, that plant resonated with me and felt metaphorical. It’s been a hard year. It’s been a hard few years. I don’t have a lot of hope for it getting much better. But if any of the intentions I made on New Year’s Day 2023 actually are kept, I know that things will at least be that much better.
Next Week’s Assignment:
Object Empathy
This week’s mission is borrowed from Brooklyn-based artist Diana Shpungin via “The Art Assignment,” and asks you to show empathy for an object instead of a person. Find an object you feel bad for. “Fix it” in your own style. Bonus points if you tell us how you think you’ve helped this object and/or why you felt bad for it in the first place.