My first artist residency was in the woods. So much beauty on stolen land. I looked at photos of former residents over the decades. Does it need to be said what they looked like and who gets to breathe fresh air? I was used to being the one cooking and serving and cleaning after others and now, I was on the other side. Being ‘chosen’ for these kinds of experiences is confusing. To go from scarcity and deprivation to being waited on warps the psyche and bears no relation to actually redistributing resources or changing the material conditions for the collective. How to resolve that meritocracy is a delusion and one I’ve benefited from?