Meet participatory artist Mindy Stricke, who’s helping people create “National Parks of Emotion” to process their pandemic feelings
Mindy Stricke’s National Parks of Emotion participatory art project has helped her and many others process their pandemic experiences in a profoundly creative way. Read on for her explanation of the project’s origins, and to see a curated selection of some of the National Parks that people have created — and find out how you can participate. Thank you, Debra Siegel-Acevedo of Bold Voice Collaborative, for connecting Mindy and me!
- Amanda
Artist Mindy Stricke on creating National Parks of Emotion
Participatory artist Mindy Stricke
“When the pandemic hit a year ago, I was in shock, like everyone else. I had been extremely fortunate to get one last trip in with my family over March break; we returned to Montreal on March 11 after a week in Martinique. Our kids were back in school for one day, and then that was it.
Starting on March 13, as everything started closing and getting canceled, I would wake up each morning and have to remind myself that I wasn’t dreaming. After the initial shock, I settled into an inertia-like haze. I was mostly focused on following the horrifying news, zooming with far-flung friends and family as we processed what was unfolding, and figuring out how my kids would spend their time—online school took months to get going.
I’m a photographer and a participatory artist, though. The most important thing in the world to me, and in my work, is connection and bringing people together: creating artistic frameworks that allow people to get in touch with how they really feel about their lives, and then share their stories through the creative process. In a time of such profound disruption to our sense of connection, I knew I wanted to do something. There were a lot of stories and feelings swirling around, and I had an idea, a way to make those stories and feelings visible that might help people process what was happening and accept whatever was coming up. I also needed it for myself.
So last June, I launched the National Parks of Emotion project. Inspired by a meditation by Pascal Auclair, I’ve been asking people to share an emotion they’ve experienced because of the pandemic and why, and then imagine that feeling as if it was a National Park they had visited. What would that emotion look like and feel like if it was a place they could enter and leave, just like our emotions come and go? Then I invite them to create a landscape of their National Park of Emotion using abstract photography and other media. The National Park of Loneliness is going to look very different from the National Park of Hope.
The National Park of Fear by Julia Grozdenova
But do your parks look like mine?
What happens when we all do this together?
I’ve been running virtual workshops called Art Labs to introduce the project, meet and connect with the participants (who range in age from 10 to 92), and see where all of this goes. There is no artistic prerequisite to make a park or join in the conversation; I emphasize that we are here to play and experiment together. I’m just inviting people from around the world to build these parks with me, made up of all of our stories and emotions from this past difficult year. New emotions and stories come up with each new chapter of the pandemic, in different ways depending on where someone is in the world and what their circumstances are. Everyone is welcome.
The project has been an anchor for me; it’s given me a sense of purpose during a time of so much uncertainty and anxiety. I’m creating a digital archive of the project as it develops and want it to culminate in a virtual interactive installation next year, a tour of our National Parks of Emotion during this time.
But who knows? Even the uncertainty of engaging with the creative process itself helps ground me and remind me of how little control we really have not only during this time, but always. The emotions will come and go, and this pandemic will come and go.
There has been and will continue to be a lot of pain and fear, but also many small moments of joy and belonging. I feel grateful to be able to do what I do, to help facilitate some of those moments for other people through art and meaning-making at a time people really need it.
One submission I received from a woman who wrote about her National Park of Grief after having two miscarriages during the pandemic was accompanied by this note:
‘Your project woke me up to the fact that I'm not the same and I shouldn't have to pretend.
All that to say: thank you for doing this for the world.’
What more can an artist ask for?”
Tour the National Parks of Emotion
Below are some photos and quotes from the project so far. Anyone is welcome to share a story and an image of one of their National Parks of Emotion by going to MindyStricke.com.
National Park of Loneliness:
“During our time of isolation, I found myself spending most of my time in my room all day on my bed. Not being able to socialize with friends and family out of my bubble made me feel lonely. The National Park Loneliness is empty but filled with lonely snow.”
Paloma, Age 12
Toronto, ON
National Park of Betrayal:
“It turns out that Betrayal National Park is the only park in the entire US Department of the Interior that was fully funded by this confederacy of dunces. They over-charged me at the park entrance, and stole my credit card. Later I saw that instead of healthy, well-trained park rangers, the Park of Betrayal was staffed by drunken, armed Proud Boys.”
Jay Sherman, Age 73
Baltimore, MD
National Park of Nostalgia:
"Because it's difficult during these times of isolation to make new memories, it's easier to look behind then ahead...It is always twilight in the park, and it is always body temperature, even if you visit in the middle of winter."
Arwen, Age 17
Montreal, QC
National Park of Calm:
“During these past few months my yoga practice has gone from maybe twice a week in a class to a daily practice, solo. Just me and my online teachers. We’ve never met and yet they have become my buddies, my lifelines. The National Park of Calm is an island unto itself. Everything there is blue: the sky, the ground, the water, my shadow. It is off the grid, free from news and politics and virus counts. The breeze is soft and constant. There are no paths, but lots of space in which to wander. You cannot stay for long, but you can return often. There is no entry fee.”
Virginia Lockman, Age 68
Wilmington, DE
National Park of Vulnerability:
“I'm pushing 73. I have no children. Since COVID I have lost the love of my life and I have lost my work. I'm feeling fragile and alone, inhabiting a void, waiting for the other shoe to drop, hoping for an inspiring new chapter instead, and wondering how much is really up to me.”
Susan Berkowitz, Age 72
Brooklyn, NY
What’s an emotion that YOU’VE experienced during the pandemic, that you might imagine as a National Park? Join one of Mindy’s art labs to explore and create as part of a group, or just read her tips and create one on your own.
Read more stories about women’s experiences during this pandemic.
