Kristin Posehn

In early October 2019, just over three years ago, I visited NYC. The impetus for the trip was to see the Charles Ray exhibition at the Hill Art Foundation. Ray is one of my very favorite artists, and it was a highly unusual show. He exhibited several sculptures (including a never-before-or-since-shown personal work) alongside Renaissance and Baroque bronzes he selected from the Foundation’s collection—all of it arranged in his own idiosyncratic, insightful curation. As an extra treat, many of Ray’s rare, limited-edition exhibition catalogs were laid out in the reading area, and I spent an afternoon browsing. That week also included my first trip to Dia Beacon, and Bard, which had an unusual sculpture double-header with shows by both Haim Steinbach and Helen Marten. Anyway, I could nerd out at length about the great art viewing. After I got back home, I had a lovely dream: I dreamed I saw a very sweet dog that was pregnant with 60 puppies (my dreams tend to have a sense of humor with a bit of absurdist flair). I wrote in my journal that I had so much in me, like, A LOT, that I didn’t know how to express. I had all this potential, but somehow, frustratingly, though I was sincerely doing everything I could think of, I couldn’t seem to fully access it.

It’s good to look back on that time, and it’s amazing how much has happened since. For a bit of contrast, last month I had a follow-up dream: I dreamed I set out a special food for a bunch of incredibly cute puppies—they were so happy about this and digging in—then a couple of them saw me and jumped up to greet me with the most wonderful, enthusiastic, unbridled joy. Their pure joy was such a gift in the dream, it makes me beam. Maybe this joy and energy were the potential in my ‘19 dream, little did I know back then, and three years later, all across my life it’s starting to bound around, wanting to play. So much has evolved for me in miraculous ways since that NYC trip, much to come, and I’m beyond grateful for every moment along the way that’s catalyzed.