The Polymath: How Jessica Dessner Sees The World
In Greco-Roman mythology, the Muses divinely inspired artists, musicians, scientists, and writers. The sciences and arts originate in the same place (the brain), so it makes sense that one entity would reign over luminaries. In today's world, academics separate the sciences and arts. But if color results from a chemical reaction or light travels via photons, where does art become a science? Moreover, is there a methodology behind the abstractions? If so, who understands the rhythm of artistic progress? Jessica Dessner does.
Dessner creates art. On her Piemontese farm, Dessner ignores the "rigidity" of artistic labels in her work by incorporating elements of dance, visual, and written word. Consequently, Dessner’s work not only speaks to those who know her but also to others. When you are in your microcosm, it's easy to become engrossed in your life. But the magic happens when you take a moment to speak to someone about their creative process. On a random Monday morning, I spoke with Jessica to learn how she incorporates her mission and vision into her various works.
1. What does art mean to you?
Art is for exploring uncertainty. Artists are responsible for trying to understand the world as much as possible and responding to that knowledge through their desired medium. While art is a form of self-expression, the act of creation results in a work that is not personal; instead, a piece of art translates or interprets an experience. For my journey, I began exploring this concept in the past five or six years. Moreover, for women artists, art is an opportunity to be subversive in the face of life's demands.
2. Describe your artistic journey.
I grew up dancing in my hometown of Cincinnati. Cincinnati had a dance school modeled after the School of American Ballet in New York City, so I trained in a very advanced classic ballet program from age seven to eighteen. We shared studio space with the Cincinnati ballet and were taught by some fantastic teachers. By the time I was sixteen, I knew this was what I wanted to do. I could have stayed in Cincinnati to be a professional dancer. But, at the same time, I've always known the importance and value of academics. So, I applied to several colleges and conservatories and enrolled at Barnard. I realized that going to school in New York City would be optimal for dancing both inside and outside the classroom. So, in 1981, I moved to New York and became a dance major.
While in the city, I auditioned and worked for a dance company for over a decade until my early to mid-thirties. I created my work through dance and written word mediums. One morning, I woke up after a production and decided to do something else. So, I returned to school to get an MFA in Creative Writing at The New School in New York. While I was supposed to focus on my thesis, I procrastinated and figured out I could draw. I have no training in visual art. I wandered into it. Now, I circulate between the three mediums, depending on the project. My artistic practice is rooted in the improvisation of dance as I explore the written word and visual arts.
3. How do you incorporate your mission and vision into your art?
The best way to answer the question is to use my latest project as an example. I made a record with Norwegian singer-songwriter Rebecca Karijord. The project resulted from a volume of poetry I wrote called Complete Mountain Almanac. After reading the words, Karijord set music to the poetry. I then created the artwork for the record. The creative process is similar to meditation as you dive into how visual elements complicate, embellish, or elaborate on language. The way to answer this question is improvisation. Dance taught me the ability to find creative solutions through improvisation. I incorporate this lesson as I dive into written or visual works to try to answer life's questions.
4. What advice would you give to students and young professionals who want to enter this realm?
When I first started bridging my dance background into my creative writing and visual arts, I was friends with an older generation of poets and artists in their seventies. Many of them passed on now. One time, I showed my work to poet Bill Berkson and asked him if I should get training for poetry. He told me," No, it will ruin you." Sometimes, we know how to do something and must trust that we have the tools necessary to succeed. When you become aware that a tool might be missing, then learn that tool, but know you do not need to learn everything. When you get formal instruction, it could overwhelm your instincts.
I advise you to take everything instructed to you with a healthy understanding that there is no "right" way of doing something. You have to find a way to enjoy and trust in yourself. That can mean screwing up a lot by throwing stuff away or setting it aside. You just have to keep making stuff.
Harry Matthews once emphasized the importance of writing 20 lines a day. Even when a dancer is injured, they still have to work at the bar. Always set time aside in your day to pursue your artistic passions.
5. What is the future of your work?
I am collaborating with Megan Craig, a visual artist and Professor of the Philosophy of Art at Stony Brook College, on my next project. This project has been in the works for the past two years. We tested the neurological theory that we can only contemplate seven to nine topics daily by writing down our thoughts. We uncovered multiple commonalities in our reflections. We have very different lives and wanted to explore these themes via written and visual mediums. Regarding other projects, I want to continue focusing on my poetry.
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