We want to thank everyone who has come out to our various invitations to FCCW — happy hours, lunch, collage, carpentry, and the kick-off of our delightful Artist in Residence project, Mahjong Mistress Presents: Beyond The Table! You’re helping us break-in the space, filling it with genuine human warmth and connection, and it’s been very satisfying.
This month we have more opportunities for you to continue your involvement with MM by participating in building large-scale tiles for the life-size Mahjong game coming in April, and a special edition of Collage Club with Mahjong MIstress, on Sunday, March 30. Feminist Synth Lab is hosting a modular synth workshop on Sunday, March 16 and Sarah Wattlington is leading another carpentry workshop on Sunday, March 23. We are thrilled to be hosting Level Ground's Social Practice Labs Parable of the Sower Book Club, starting on Monday, March 31.
We’re also inviting our community to come and co-work this month! Our open hours are Wed-Fri 11-5PM — during the same hours you can build large-scale tiles for the MM project.
In Stella’s absence, we are hiring a Programs and Operations Coordinator to support us and we’re also looking for our next impressive Getty Intern — please read on and alert your thoughtful, responsible, job-seeking feminist faves!
This class provides an overview of modular synthesizers, starting with the basics and building towards advanced concepts. We'll be covering everything from CV/gate signals to oscillators to filters and random voltage generators. This class is open to people of all levels of familiarity with modular synthesizers and includes time set aside for asking questions and getting to experiment on synthesizers.
Feminist Synth Lab prioritizes all marginalized genders, including but not limited to trans women, cis women, trans men, non-binary, intersex, gender nonconforming, two-spirit and questioning folx. We ask that our cis male allies and friends respectfully do not sign up, as we recognize that electronic music is overwhelmingly dominated by cis men.
Join us for a one-day carpentry session where you'll learn the fundamentals of building with wood in a supportive, community-centered environment. This hands-on class will teach you how to safely use power tools, interpret drawings, and bring designs to life.
Woodworker and artist Sarah Watlington, will teach participants these skills and more, and you will help FCCW by applying them to construct outdoor furniture for our new space. We built planters last month, and this month we’re going to be working on benches. No experience is encouraged! Closed toed shoes and pants are required!
Our Artists in Residence, Mahjong Mistress, invite you to help put together and decorate the 144 large-scale Mahjong tile set that will be exhibited in our space and used for a life-sized game in our garden on Saturday, April 26. Drop by anytime during our open hours to help construct cardboard tiles — you don’t need any particular skills beyond some attention to detail.
We’re also inviting our community to come and co-work during these hours! We have folding tables and chairs set up, as well as wi-fi and power (it does run from an extension cord so be prepared to share) and you’re free to make coffee and enjoy the shared garden too. You can find FCCW by going all the way to the end of Rosslyn St. and turning left through a driveway — and our building is right there, parking is along the fence on the right (don't pay attention to the No Parking signs).
A lifelong Pasadena resident, Octavia E. Butler’s imprint on Los Angeles is undeniable and the city is a scorched backdrop for Parable of the Sower. In light of the devastating LA fires in January, neo fascism around the world, ongoing genocides and climate catastrophes, there is palpable urgency to learn from each other and in dialogue with Butler’s cautionary tales. Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents are two powerful texts left to us by Butler and we’re excited to collaborate with members of the Los Angeles arts and culture ecosystem and our Collective members for this first cycle of Level Ground’s Social Practice Labs.
RACHEL: I don't know where I got the idea that I should be producing high quality art or productions of stuff.
[Music pulses in and out, like a headache.]
This is Rachel.
RACHEL: My sisters and I sometimes would act out our favorite picture books, and our mom would read it and we would act it out. And I remember even then, too, like, getting frustrated at my sister's performances and being like, ‘No, not like that! Do it again!’
[NK LAUGHS]
She’s a writer and audio producer who grew up in Minneapolis.
RACHEL: I wasn't satisfied just to have fun with a creative project. I wasn't satisfied just to finish it. I wanted it to be good.
And her earliest memory of needing things to be perfect is from when she was only 3 years old.
RACHEL: I think we were doing watercolors. I finished my watercolor and hated how it had turned out. And, just kind of trashed it. Like, just painted all over it, like ruined the image I'd created, and then ripped it into pieces. I ripped it into teeny bits.
Rachel’s mom rescued the destroyed artwork and carefully dried the pieces. Later she arranged them into two collages and framed them.
RACHEL: And these framed collages are still on display in my parents living room as something of a sick reminder of my lifelong perfectionism.
[The music fades away…]
Rachel got older, and eventually stopped making watercolors — which she wasn't good at — and turned her attention to writing – which she was. When other people told Rachel she was a good writer, she liked it. And soon her ability to express herself in language became something she really liked about herself.
But at the same time…the validation she got from writing felt precarious – not like something she could hold on to.
RACHEL: Like, oh boy, okay, this is kind of embarrassing, but when I was in high school, in my senior year of high school, I got selected to blog about my college admissions process for the New York Times.
NK: Oh wow.
RACHEL: But I remember having the distinct feeling then, and making the joke then, when I was 17, where I was like, This is it, this is my peak, this is my New York Times byline. And fearing in my head that perhaps it was true.
(beat)
Um, so, that's my damage.
[The pulsating music returns.]
So the thing she enjoyed the most – writing – was also tinged with fear. A worry, always hovering at the edges of her mind, that her latest accomplishment would be her last. And maybe, also, that it was the accomplishments – the awards, the recognition – that mattered. And that without them, maybe Rachel wouldn't.
[The music stops.]
After college in the midwest, she moved to New York City – which is exactly the kind of thing you do when you’re an aspiring writer – it's part of the grand tradition – especially if you're the kind of person who does things for the plot.
Except now, when it comes to Rachel’s writing, she often finds herself in a state of creative paralysis. When she sits down to write, it’s as if the voice of her younger self has turned on her: No! Not like that.
RACHEL: I'll know that I'm avoiding working on something because I don't want to have to deal with its imperfections.
NK: Right. Yeah. When's the last time you did share something that was, you know, below your standards or…?
RACHEL: I'm trying to think. [LOOOONG PAUSE] Well, the thing is–
NK: That was such a long pause. Wow.
[BOTH LAUGH]
But what Rachel was describing was about more than having high standards. Perfectionism isn’t really the issue – it’s just what’s on the surface.
RACHEL: I mean, obviously perfectionism is about control. I think it's all wrapped up in this idea, though, of like, telling a story about myself. And what the work says about me. There's shame in every aspect of it for me.
About the work
What happens when what we call mental health is shaped by the conditions of the world we live in? On Basket Case, host NK decodes the mental-health-industrial complex past and present, through cultural reporting, tender conversations, and deeply personal explorations of diagnosis, medication, stigma, and community.
Because we’re experiencing some kinda f*cked up conditions that are pretty hard to live with! And if you’re struggling to cope, the society that created the conditions in the first place will tell you there’s something wrong with you. And it will call you a Basket Case.
