An Open Letter to Michael Lane

 
I am at the Des Moines Art Festival helping my best friend Michael with the Interactive Art Station. They have two projects: a "cray-pa-your-own square" of a mural of the city's skyline and a "create your own" skyline silhouette. The Festival is just kicking off today after many months of planning and hard work.

I am honored I get to see my friend at work. You can tell a lot about a person when you sit back and watch. Michael is one of those rare kinds that knows how to achieve a vision, something that lives outside of himself. He has that unique skill set of seeing the whole and the component parts. It is this skill I most admire and respect.

I'm not sure if he knows exactly how much I have learned from him over the years. He has seen me through a lot in the 12 plus years of friendship. He has showed me that hard work pays off, politics are inevitable, and compassion is sometimes wanting to tell someone to fuck off but instead saying "thank you".

What I am observing today reinforces all of this. Michael is nothing if not neurotic. He cares, like me, what people think of him. He obsesses, like me, about the impact of even the tiniest of actions. Earlier today he worried that the direction of the tables (should they run north to south or east to west) might not be the direction his colleague wants them to run. Some may view this as petty or ridiculous even. I completely understand him. I understand that something as simple as the direction of a table has significance. It creates mood, traffic flow, and can either support or hinder an activity. I understand that this decision not only impacts the participants, but the simple decision can impact the relationship between colleagues. It can make or break a friendship. And I appreciate deeply the fact that Michael understands this too.

Before the Festival started, we took a stroll through Des Moines. He showed me the Sol LeWitt paintings he helped paint. He showed the the Tara Donovan instillation he helped construct. He talked lovingly about one particular section of Tara's plastic cup rolling landscape he was responsible for and as such he fussed and fussed to make it perfect. He showed me parts of his life and how it has and continues to intersect the live of others, especially artists. And I am reminded of his humility, leadership, and grace.

Michael has an intrinsic sense of community and connectedness and is rooted in knowing how and when to step up and step back. He makes no claims that the art of Sol LeWitt or Tara Donovan or the mural being created are his. And yet he is a crucial factor in their existence. He picked up the brush and actually painted the Sol LeWitt. He placed the plastic cups one-by-one on the floor to create Tara's landscape. He helped create the system that empowers the community to "paint" a square of the mural. If he had not picked up that brush, placed that cup, or systematized the mural, they certainly would still have been done. But he did do it. He contributed to their creation and in doing so he left his mark.

Now what matters is the narrative he tells about his involvement. His narrative rarely continues an "I". He understands and has internalized the true nature of community: we.

I am sitting here on the sidelines just watching and transcribing what I see. I hope I have an ounce of his humility. I hope others learn from his presence. I know that if we all practiced a little less "I" and a little more "we" we would transform this world.

Thanks Michael for this important lesson.

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