Artist Bio for Monica Lynn Manoski
In my practice, I study traditions ranging from Indian Ayurvedic life-science and the Latin American medicine system of Curanderismo to the Earth-honoring shamanistic spirituality of Indigenous cultures and the hands-on energy healing of Japanese Reiki. At the same time, I explore how racial justice principles translate into practices that support individuals and build communities. My research into these seemingly unrelated topics has forced me to reevaluate my Catholic upbringing, public-school education, and experiences with Western medicine, leading me to question most of what I thought I knew about health, spirituality, and the world. My research is now embedded in my art and life, affecting everything from the food I eat and the materials I work with to my interactions with family, friends, and audiences. Through spoken word performances, ceremonies that honor that natural world, and one-on-one energy work, I share the teachings of these holistic healing traditions. I present my work to diverse audiences—in galleries, performance spaces, public parks, schools, and community centers. I invite those I interact with to connect with the land, with what can't be seen, and each other. I guide them in actions that rebuild their bodily health and the collective well-being of those around them. I believe sharing these holistic healing practices is a form of social justice work; when individuals heal themselves, they heal their families, communities, and the world.
In my practice, I study traditions ranging from Indian Ayurvedic life-science and the Latin American medicine system of Curanderismo to the Earth-honoring shamanistic spirituality of Indigenous cultures and the hands-on energy healing of Japanese Reiki. At the same time, I explore how racial justice principles translate into practices that support individuals and build communities. My research into these seemingly unrelated topics has forced me to reevaluate my Catholic upbringing, public-school education, and experiences with Western medicine, leading me to question most of what I thought I knew about health, spirituality, and the world. My research is now embedded in my art and life, affecting everything from the food I eat and the materials I work with to my interactions with family, friends, and audiences. Through spoken word performances, ceremonies that honor that natural world, and one-on-one energy work, I share the teachings of these holistic healing traditions. I present my work to diverse audiences—in galleries, performance spaces, public parks, schools, and community centers. I invite those I interact with to connect with the land, with what can't be seen, and each other. I guide them in actions that rebuild their bodily health and the collective well-being of those around them. I believe sharing these holistic healing practices is a form of social justice work; when individuals heal themselves, they heal their families, communities, and the world.
Published on February 12th, 2021. Artist responses collected in months previous.
What hurdles have you overcome this year and how have they affected your art practice?
My performances are often created for a live audience with an intimate connection in mind. This was not possible this year. I have used the past six months to revisit past work, reflect, and re-present it. I've found myself reorganizing and reshaping images by way of the grid. As a performance artist and storyteller, this format allows me to share the narrative of what took place more effectively than a singular image can. In addition to editing images, I've also spent time copyediting texts I've written. It's been helpful to re-look at things and see them within our present context. For example, one collection of poems I wrote called "sisters in this ritual" was drafted during time spent with my collaborator and best friend between 2018-2019. We were doing a hybrid residency at iartcolony in Rockport, MA, where we went up one weekend each season. The text is alive with intimacy and rich with connection, something that seems nearly impossible to achieve during this time of physical distancing. It's interesting to see what themes come forward in this moment.
How has your art practice been affected by the pandemic?
We live in dangerous and uncertain times. Democracy and freedom are at stake. The world seems increasingly inhumane; at least, we're increasingly made aware of it. Anything I missed due to the pandemic comes from a place of privilege. I kept my full-time job. I never worried about safety, food, or money. I haven't had to live through the horror of seeing people who look like me die from the disease at an increased rate or be murdered in the streets by cops. And since I'm not a parent, I haven't had to educate and care for a child while holding down my day job. The effects on my life were small. An exhibition I was scheduled to participate in transformed into a virtual show. Instead of performing in-person, I did an audio recording overlaid onto the landscape near the gallery. This was the first time my work existed as video. Because I couldn't perform live, I relied on the gallerists to capture the moving image component. While my spoken word performance isn't perfect, I think the collaboration is beautiful. I've used this time to reflect, research for upcoming projects, and continue studying energy work, holistic healing, and ancestral medicine.
What support systems have you put in place to help keep your practice thriving amidst these unforeseeable circumstances?
Writing has always been critical to my practice. Whether it comes before or after the work is made, writing helps me understand myself and the decisions I make more deeply. During the pandemic, writing and editing my work have become my primary creative practices. I have two collections of poetry that I want to share. I planned to self-publish but was encouraged to try finding a publisher. I don't have a set time frame for releasing the work, so I figured I would apply for some publishing opportunities over the next few months and see what happens. If I don't get any traction, I'll plan to self-publish in 2021. Having supportive relationships are also essential. My family and my partner always support my creative practice. And several of my closest friends are artists. Talking about our practices, planning for future work, and having their encouragement has helped me move forward.
What methods do you employ to stay resilient in your art practice? What tips would you recommend to other artists who find staying resilient difficult?
Taking care of my physical and energetic body is essential to my work. My Reiki, yoga, and meditation practices keep me healthy—physically and spiritually. Routines and rituals are good for me. Starting my day the same way—even when everything else is changing and uncertain—feels good. Also, connecting with family, spending time outside, reading, and eating a mix of nutritious (fruits and veggies) and purely delicious (ice-cream and all the deep-fried tortilla chips) nourish me. I'm also learning to be easier on myself. Since I no longer have to commute to work each day, I expected to clean (and alphabetize!) every closet. I didn't get past the first shelf in my spice cabinet. And that's okay.
What have you learned about yourself as an artist this year?
I've learned that comparisons to more successful artists aren't helpful. Admiration is great, but comparisons can get you stuck. I often worry about being worthy/interesting/talented enough. But, I'm learning to get out of my own way, give up on perfection, and be less afraid. I'm human, everything I make is bound to have rough edges, and I'm learning to find beauty in those spaces. I believe all humans are creative (if we allow ourselves to be). When we write, draw, dance, move, make, play, sing, shape, bake, cook, create, we do one of the most life-affirming, satisfying, and healthy things. I am grateful for my practice, which allows me to express myself and nurtures my well-being. My practice evolves each year, but it consistently enables me to learn, grow, and heal.
What hurdles have you overcome this year and how have they affected your art practice?
My performances are often created for a live audience with an intimate connection in mind. This was not possible this year. I have used the past six months to revisit past work, reflect, and re-present it. I've found myself reorganizing and reshaping images by way of the grid. As a performance artist and storyteller, this format allows me to share the narrative of what took place more effectively than a singular image can. In addition to editing images, I've also spent time copyediting texts I've written. It's been helpful to re-look at things and see them within our present context. For example, one collection of poems I wrote called "sisters in this ritual" was drafted during time spent with my collaborator and best friend between 2018-2019. We were doing a hybrid residency at iartcolony in Rockport, MA, where we went up one weekend each season. The text is alive with intimacy and rich with connection, something that seems nearly impossible to achieve during this time of physical distancing. It's interesting to see what themes come forward in this moment.
How has your art practice been affected by the pandemic?
We live in dangerous and uncertain times. Democracy and freedom are at stake. The world seems increasingly inhumane; at least, we're increasingly made aware of it. Anything I missed due to the pandemic comes from a place of privilege. I kept my full-time job. I never worried about safety, food, or money. I haven't had to live through the horror of seeing people who look like me die from the disease at an increased rate or be murdered in the streets by cops. And since I'm not a parent, I haven't had to educate and care for a child while holding down my day job. The effects on my life were small. An exhibition I was scheduled to participate in transformed into a virtual show. Instead of performing in-person, I did an audio recording overlaid onto the landscape near the gallery. This was the first time my work existed as video. Because I couldn't perform live, I relied on the gallerists to capture the moving image component. While my spoken word performance isn't perfect, I think the collaboration is beautiful. I've used this time to reflect, research for upcoming projects, and continue studying energy work, holistic healing, and ancestral medicine.
What support systems have you put in place to help keep your practice thriving amidst these unforeseeable circumstances?
Writing has always been critical to my practice. Whether it comes before or after the work is made, writing helps me understand myself and the decisions I make more deeply. During the pandemic, writing and editing my work have become my primary creative practices. I have two collections of poetry that I want to share. I planned to self-publish but was encouraged to try finding a publisher. I don't have a set time frame for releasing the work, so I figured I would apply for some publishing opportunities over the next few months and see what happens. If I don't get any traction, I'll plan to self-publish in 2021. Having supportive relationships are also essential. My family and my partner always support my creative practice. And several of my closest friends are artists. Talking about our practices, planning for future work, and having their encouragement has helped me move forward.
What methods do you employ to stay resilient in your art practice? What tips would you recommend to other artists who find staying resilient difficult?
Taking care of my physical and energetic body is essential to my work. My Reiki, yoga, and meditation practices keep me healthy—physically and spiritually. Routines and rituals are good for me. Starting my day the same way—even when everything else is changing and uncertain—feels good. Also, connecting with family, spending time outside, reading, and eating a mix of nutritious (fruits and veggies) and purely delicious (ice-cream and all the deep-fried tortilla chips) nourish me. I'm also learning to be easier on myself. Since I no longer have to commute to work each day, I expected to clean (and alphabetize!) every closet. I didn't get past the first shelf in my spice cabinet. And that's okay.
What have you learned about yourself as an artist this year?
I've learned that comparisons to more successful artists aren't helpful. Admiration is great, but comparisons can get you stuck. I often worry about being worthy/interesting/talented enough. But, I'm learning to get out of my own way, give up on perfection, and be less afraid. I'm human, everything I make is bound to have rough edges, and I'm learning to find beauty in those spaces. I believe all humans are creative (if we allow ourselves to be). When we write, draw, dance, move, make, play, sing, shape, bake, cook, create, we do one of the most life-affirming, satisfying, and healthy things. I am grateful for my practice, which allows me to express myself and nurtures my well-being. My practice evolves each year, but it consistently enables me to learn, grow, and heal.
Find Monica Lynn Manoski on Instagram