Feminism

I feel that alot my reactions and feelings at Camphill were so intertwined with the events of last week that it is necessary to give a disclaimer that the emotional exhaustion defintely played a role in how I experienced the Village. I feel that the many surprises of last week were all a factor in how my observations of the facilities felt even more surprising. I already spoke in class about my struggles and surprises about Riva's visit and I felt almost even more out of my element at Camphill. 

Camphill seems almost too good to be true. They have amazing food, napping stations, and everybody is extremely friendly. What more could we ask for? I’m not too worried about the portrait project. I feel like as long as everyone knows that they shouldn’t expect a masterpiece from me, I’ll be alright. I’m actually more interested in the work we’ll be doing when we’re not drawing. I’m looking forward to the opportunity of baking or weaving with the residents. So hopefully it is too good and true. 

Is it possible to feel simultaneously more settled and more anxious about this upcoming trip to Camphill? After interacting (briefly) with residents at Camphill, I'm feeling better about working with them to create a portrait of themselves. I was excited by the facilities and the beauty of the place; I wasn't really sure what to expect regarding how it would look, and I didn't know how much farmland and forest the area would include. I appreciated Mimi's honesty about how Camphill navigates the dueling pressures to serve the residents and balance the budget. 

Walking into Camphill, even having been told in detail about the village, its mission, and all that it has to offer, I had no image in my head of what to expect. Perhaps because the concept seemed so intriguing to me, but also partially so concerning, especially in light of discussions about viewing disability as pathology and locking away individuals with disabilities as we lock away our elderly. Though I knew that this was a highly improbable parallel, I couldn’t help but fear, at worst, that these were relatives exiled by families who couldn’t otherwise look after them.