Contemplating community…
A slightly wild, yet slightly intentional corner of the grounds at Menucha
This summer, the feeling of hypernormalization has really set in—my thoughts about art, the studio, the city, and the world feel tangled and uncertain. It’s made my motivation for daily tasks and creating art harder, though I’ve found some comfort in Oregon’s beautiful nature and the work of other artists, writers, and musicians.
Another bright spot was a 7-week class I took called How to Keep a Community Going through The Barnraisers Project (which I likely discovered in a post-election internet rabbit hole). Deepening my connection to community feels like one of the few real antidotes to that sense of disorientation.
Garrett Bucks, founder of The Barnraisers Project, is a writer and community organizer based in Milwaukee, WI. Each week, cohorts from across the country met on Zoom to explore what it takes to build and sustain community. Garrett kept the conversations casual yet meaningful, and it was fascinating to hear about the wide range of groups people belong to—tenant collectives, healthcare teams, improv troupes, neighborhood circles, homeschool networks, and more.
Each week, we explored a new topic, but one that stuck with me was on creating group culture—how it is shaped through our actions, both intentional and unintentional, and even through things beyond our control. Garrett illustrated this with Article 15 from the Rochester Ladies Anti-Slavery Society (1861), which instructed hosts to serve a simple supper: “tea, bread and butter, one kind of plain cake, and one simple relish.” This clear—and strict—guideline (with fines for deviation!) set expectations for anyone who might attend one of these group meetings in 1861. It was one example of how small details can foster a sense of belonging and ease the common social anxiety of group gatherings.
Screen shot from “How to Keep A Community Going” cohort meeting with The Barnraiser’s Project
Knowing what to expect can make joining a class or group much easier. When I created Paisley Studios, I put a lot of thought into how people would experience its culture—through small, often subtle details. I started with a simple plan and let the culture grow and evolve over time. I’ve always seen the studio as a loosely tended, slightly wild garden, and as we enter another dormant season, it’s been rewarding to watch this little community—members, students past and present—continue to hum along.
Images from Spring/Summer 2025: Studio Practice Classes, Member Printmaking Nights, Visiting Artists/Guest teacher class work (Photos from Jessica Dewberry & Sarah Eaton)
