This.
Welcome to this. This is this. This is the freedom of rowboats. This is also lemons and worn out sneakers and the red blood of beets and Sunday morning. This is Friday night. This is south-facing windows and wasabi and being brave enough for gardens. This is having fears and refusing to live as slaves to them. This is specialized ungulate feet for traveling long distances this is the succulent’s ability to hold water, their devices for self-protection, this is the double o in oolong tea. This is red-winged monsters this is the hearts in those monsters this is the hearts in children with messed up ponytails this is the hearts in you. This is not apologizing for being such. This is just and much more than this.
This is being too young to be called lady but appreciating being called lady because it’s old-fashioned. This is knowing that the only way to pay homage to tradition is to experiment bravely. This is writing letters to people who you love, even if you love them from afar and they don’t know who you are. Also this is friendship. Which is the word platelets. Which is the word furniture. Which is the word wonder. This is the need for expressing and exploding and exploring the legitimization of Heart – this is the bringing back. Not with irony. Not with apathy. But with the this inside of you. This curiosity. This jump off of the highest rock.
The social responsibility: not holding this back.
This is not-for-money-but-instead-for-lungs-work. The because-one-must-work. This is eating spinach and then singing a song about eating the spinach and the spinach falling out of your mouth while you’re singing and that’s funny. This is the discovery of what we have access to. This is writing stories because we have alphabets. Because we have words. Because we have sentences. This is leaving our shoes untied because we can.
This is asking you to act when you feel moved to say the compliment, to give the love letter, to sing along when your voice wants to but you’re nervous because of society. This is asking you to feel moved more. To wake up and feel moved more. And to feel moved by moving. And to move by being moved. This is not asking you to be cute like express yourself this is asking you to grow antlers. Not because you need them to be hard but because you want to move things with them. You want to change your landscape. Shake your head around, push the stagnant air. This is seeking to be bigger and asking you to be bigger. As big as the bigness of music. As big as the bigness of cow eyes. This is asking you to be ruthless in taking stock of the ways you do not become who you know you can at every moment. And after taking stock to do instead of try.
This is sunsets. This is the taking of the time for the sunsets. This is understanding that most animals feed at this time, that it’s an important time to pay attention. This invites paying attention. This invites invitation. This invites attempts. This wants you to leave insisting that you are the heart of you and also the heart of every other you who has been waiting this long to wait not another moment.
Factorycompany is a venue that invites our art making practices to coexist, or something like that. Factorycompany wants to anticipate the world newly, to re-make it together through practices of language that impel us each toward exercising agency. Factorycompany wants to put us back in it—and not worry about who 'us' or what 'it' is. Factorycompany seeks to make more room for making.
