zfaust
Nature is Inconvenient
I’ve never been more sick until I moved to New York.
Of course working at an institution full of children and living in one of the most densely populated cities in the country doesn’t help. Especially during a period when anti-vaccination sentiment is increasing. But for the most part, virally, I’ve been sick the same as when I lived anywhere else.
The thing really affecting me is the pollen.
For the first week or so of every season I get some version of a sinus infection. Whether there’s too much pollen, a change in the atmospheric pressure, and even the slightest change in temperature is enough to throw my immune system into disarray..
It doesn’t help that the yard behind my apartment is full of blossoming trees. Preparing for spring they unfurl their leaves and flowers, and launch a strategic strike right into my sinuses.
In a city like New York, nature may seem like a blessing but it’s actually an inconvenience.
It requires maintenance and lots of it. Every day I see landscapers planting, and replanting flowers and shrubs in the miniature gardens lining the apartments and homes on the Upper East Side.
The gardeners in Central Park work tirelessly to maintain the 18,000 trees sprawled across the property’s 843 acres. Not to mention weeding, mowing, and watering the Conservatory garden and other flower beds on a weekly basis.
Even the museum’s greenspaces are constantly tended to by staff and contractors on a daily basis.
In the urban jungle keeping anything alive takes money, time, and effort. It takes an army to survive which is probably why the two houseplants I own are constantly teetering between life and death.
Nature here is just inconvenient.
But it’s necessary derives from its inconvenience.
When I started my time here at VCFA I was curious about the previous graduates’ work. I wanted to know what to expect. I looked through every thesis packet to see what I could gather. Although alll the work was amazing, only one resonated with me the most enough for me to download a copy, and read through in its entirety several times.
Ray Masaki’s thesis is not something I immediately thought I’d resonate with. Growing up in Long Island, building a career in NYC, and then moving to Tokyo seems very different than the life path I’ve carved out for myself. But his capitalistic-conscious, purpose-curious ethos drew me in.
In one of his essays, A VIDEO OF CANS DROPPING WITH THE SOUNDS REPLICATED FROM OBJECTS FOUND IN NATURE:A JOB IS JUST A JOB, he references something by David Cain along the lines that our lives are designed for us. We rely on, and even pay for conveniences because they afford us more time. In an attention-drive economy, we crave as much time as we can get. We feel less guilty then when we feed the capitalistic machine in exchange for fast food, cheap entertainment, and instant gratification. Because that’s how the system is designed.
Combined with always being in a constant state of being unhappy, we’re extremely susceptible to consuming anything that makes us feel like we have an advantage and control of our lives.
Nature is important in a setting like New York because the inconvenice is meant to slow us down. Walking across Central Park takes much more time than it does to take a cross-town bus. But it provides us time to think. It provides us some exercise, and it gives us a moment to recalibrate. Although it’s “stealing” time from us, it’s a necessary moment in our day.
Even walking just to the park takes so much more time than it would if we lived in the suburbs and we could just walk out our door. It’s inconvenient, but necessary.
Although sitting outisde on my fire escape while the trees disperse their pollen makes my head tight, eyes run, and nose burn, I know it’s necessary because it provides me a moment to breath (metaphorically, obviously). To get away from the distractions of my screens, and refocus on what is truly important.