Artist Profile: Jemila MacEwan
Jemila MacEwan on THE ENvironment, performance, meditation, and their upcoming projectS
by Bianca Maiocchi
I entered Jemila MacEwan’s Long Island City studio building a few weeks back and was greeted by colorful pieces of artwork that softened the rugged architecture of the space. A long dining table where artists often come together to cook meals and play games was at the center of the intricate web of artists’ safe-havens and work spaces. At this same table, I was introduced to a friendly dog named Walnut, as well as the concept of the location: Flux Factory, a not-for-profit arts community space in Queens. The space has a reputation for being an artist-run collective that creatives can call home—and from the handful of people I met there, the space successfully acts as such.
I originally met MacEwan as a guest speaker for the Gallatin seminar “New York City Coastlines: Past, Present, Future” with professor Karen Holmberg. Their presentation was a performance. MacEwan and their collaborator showed up in beautiful blue garments that invoked aquatic connotation to guide us through “Mollusk Meditation,” MacEwan’s 2021 conception. MacEwan’s collaborator, Matt Evans, was in charge of the music, while the artist themself recited the meditation: MacEwan carefully guided us through history as we embodied different mutations of mollusks. Our conscious mind was gently forced to view the world from a much smaller and vastly different scale and perspective.
As we settled into their studio space, I asked them about how they create meditations. The point they emphasized most was the cadence and attitude of what they asked people to embody is to be taken with extreme delicateness. Mollusk Meditation” is intended to help tune people so deeply into their microscopic DNA that they can literally tune into themselves to become less “themselves.” They explained that senses are a vital part of helping the person experience exactly what it is you want them to experience, which, in their case, is forgetting yourself for a brief moment.
As they spoke, they unpacked a bag filled with colorful fabrics that they had brought from their home. Their space, riddled with projects in progress, felt to me as though I was stepping into their brain.
MacEwan was born in Scotland, but raised in Australia in a Sufi community. Their spiritual practice has followed them throughout their life, and they accredit a lot of their artwork to their connection with Earth’s spiritual elements.
You mention Earth spirits and dreams. How do these elements influence your work?
Well dreams, as I understand them, are a parallel dimension that is always unfolding at the present moment, and you can bring dreams alive by telling their story. My dad would bring my siblings and I to scenic views and explain the scientific and geological aspects of them. So, the collaboration between dreams and science have always been the way I view the Earth. Earth spirits are a mixture of experiences. Once a spirit is communicating with you, it’s often there to try to admonish you for not remembering to rid yourself of your egotistical ways, that there are larger forces than those that present themselves in your current reality. Communications with the spirits are usually fairly indirect: for example, through observation of how animals in an environment are acting, you can interpret a story of what they are telling you. And that becomes what the Earth spirit is communicating with you. I think the point of these spirits is to be present to the natural world around me at all times. I often ask the natural world for signs when I am creating my next project.
MacEwan is known for blending endurance performance with environmental earthworks to create peaceful protests and critiques. Some of their past projects include "Human Meteorite" (2017), where they spent thirty days digging a meteor crater in Northern California, and their first earthwork performance, "Maiden Grass Voyage" (2013), which involved walking the length of Manhattan with Maiden Grass sprouting all over their body.
The artist has much experience with perceptions of others as they perform their work in public. During “Maiden Grass Voyage,” MacEwan experienced adults and children alike responding to them in full costume in numerous ways, which showed MacEwan that people were receptive to the work that they were creating.
“There are little lessons that happen through the moments that you suffer and you’re doubting yourself and the work the most,” the artist remarked. “That’s when the encouragement from those around you comes!”
During “Human Meteorite,” MacEwan’s encouragement came even from the colors of a sunset, acting as a reminder of their support from the universe.
How do you address land in such an urban environment like New York City?
I’m always perplexed by this question because to me, every space is an ecological one. There are so many life forms here and I am such a fan of life forms that thrive among human beings. I’m actually a big fan of rats and cockroaches; it really encourages me to see that other life forms can figure out how to cohabit with us because it means we’re not as hostile as I think we are.
MacEwan has always used art as a vessel for meditation, spirituality, and healing, as well as to critique the current environmental policy disasters and humanitarian crises globally. MacEwan firmly believes that there is “tremendous power in the small.” This notion is a main inspiration for their upcoming project, “Seed Meditation,” which will consist of the artist cradling a seed in their palm in noble silence for ten days (the time it takes for a seed to germinate). MacEwan’s peaceful protest is an amalgamation of their knowledge of the Earth, frustration with disrespect of natural elements, and frustration with mounting humanitarian crises.
“I think the spirit of protest has always been about a public declaration of hope in defiance of forces that extinguish life and freedoms,” MacEwan remarked. “I have always been inspired by the creative ways that people perform peaceful acts of protest, striving for what is necessary, and the patience and the restraint involved in that.”
Remaining silent for ten days seems very overwhelming and difficult. Are you at all worried about this aspect of the piece?
A lot of people, when they hear I’m going to be silent for ten days, it freaks them out. They think that’s the hardest part. But being silent is such a gift, it feels so freeing to communicate in another way, having to trust how things are unfolding. The hard part is the long hours of sitting and being in a vulnerable state when meditating. A lot comes up, big emotional pains.
The upcoming performance addresses our collective conceit and critiques the habit of ignoring the profound material support humans receive from the Universe.
MacEwan said, “When I think about the incarnations of support, my imagination conjures the living soil, plants exhaling skyward, the wounded body in quiet repair, the hot energy of sun, the infinite motion of the universe. What if we looked to these elements as gurus?”
A simple explanation of “Seed Meditation” would be the honoring of the intricate web of support necessary for life itself. MacEwan calls for friends, artists, and passers-by alike to participate in the performance by joining them in meditating on micro, mezzo, and macro layers of support that one receives to live life.
Why Washington Square Park?
Washington Square Park is an extraordinarily special place. For me, it is the palm of the hand that gently holds us all. It was the first place that welcomed me when I first moved to New York City just over ten years ago.
The hub for students, chess-players, and artists alike will welcome MacEwan from April 12 to April 21, from sunrise to sunset. You will find MacEwan easily by looking for tactfully colorful outfits that represent a meditation for that day. To learn more about the colors, the performance, and the artist, please visit their website and refer to the “highlighted projects” section.