Learning to Fly: Prairie to Prime Time (Offering 6.3)
From a North Dakota crossroads to a reality TV spotlight.
This final summer offering takes us from North Dakota’s wide-open plains to a reality TV spotlight—following the Whale’s journey and the unexpected ways art can connect people across vast distances.
(This is offering 6.3 of Eclosion: An Artist’s Path to Power and Peace. If you’re new here, start at the beginning. Or visit my Memoir Hub for a full table of contents with links.)
Back to NoDak
While I was riding the high of the Plastic Whale Project’s success, I was feeling torn at home. When I moved from Bismarck to Olympia, it was with the intention that I would learn all that I could, then return home to share my knowledge. Now living with Shon, I was rooting myself deeper and deeper into life in Olympia. But our future was still a mystery.
While I wasn’t in a hurry to have a child, I knew someday I would want one. Shon, on the other hand, did not. He’d set aside making art as a profession and had been earning money through his remodeling business for several years. He worked a lot on that business, and while he had no trouble paying his current bills, he didn’t feel like he could financially support a child.
He also had zero interest in moving to North Dakota.
I was at something of a crossroads. I was in my late twenties and felt that if I wanted to move home—and wanted to have a child—I should make that choice soon.
So I returned to Bismarck to decide. Should I end my relationship with Shon and move home? Or let go of North Dakota altogether? I looked at every experience and every place with a critical eye. And when I say critical, I really mean judgmental.
I hated it.
I hated the sprawling suburbia, which had spread far out into my beloved countryside since I left home. I hated the lack of forests and clear cold water. I hated that when I went to my dad’s house, he had a trailer full of stuff he was taking to the landfill, not the second-hand store, including some of the ceramic art I made in college. I hated that there was no curbside recycling. I hated that when I was leaving Perkin’s restaurant, after buying a muffin to go, the woman behind the cash register insisted on giving me a plastic bag, even when I said “No, I don’t want a bag.” Like five times. “I don’t want an F-ing bag!” But she gave me one anyways.
Playing hacky sack under the tall lights outside of a grocery store with my friends one night, I told my dear friend Poppy how much I was trying to love Bismarck but was just hating everything. She responded with, “Carrie, maybe you don’t need to try so hard.”
She was right. After that, I stopped trying to love everything about North Dakota and let go of the idea of moving back home. I’d already changed too much, and it just didn’t feel like I fit anymore. With the decision made, I was able to enjoy my time there. The rest of the trip was a breeze, and a lot of fun.
The Power of Story
In the midst of me hating on Bismarck, the Whale was calling me back to my other home.
As I was walking out of that same Perkins restaurant with my family, muffin-filled plastic bag in hand, I got a call from a colleague back in Olympia. He told me that a reality TV show called Shipping Wars had reached out to our department, wanting to have the Whale on their show. They wanted to deliver it to and from the Fremont Solstice Parade in Seattle. Our supervisor had already said yes to the TV producer and agreed that I would be on the show. I was not at all sure about this. Me, on Reality TV? I hadn’t watched Reality TV since MTV’s “The Real World” when I was thirteen! I had to admit though, I was kind of excited.
When I returned to Olympia, I met with the show’s producers via video chat, discussed the details, and made a plan. It wasn’t long, though, before they backed out. Shipping Wars didn’t give an exact reason, but I always figured it was because the Fremont Solstice Parade is famous for its naked bicycle ride. Dozens of people dressed in nothing but body paint ride their bicycles throughout the parade route. My guess is they were worried about being able to get all the shots they needed for the show without getting naked people in them.
Even before Shipping Wars reached out to us, we were planning to bring the Whale to Seattle for the annual Fremont Solstice Parade—a Seattle highlight that takes over the streets of Fremont each Summer Solstice. It’s a kaleidoscope of joyous human expression, in the form of awe-inspiring giant puppets, stilt walkers, floats, dancers, cyclists, and musicians. I was invited by a group of people that were working to reduce single-use plastic in Seattle. It turns out that Shipping Wars found the Whale because my collaborator in Seattle posted the Whale on a trucking website in pursuit of a way to get her to Seattle. Even without Shipping Wars, and with the help of Shon and another friend, I did bring the Whale to the Solstice Parade—its head and tail removed to fit inside of the 32-foot U-Haul, which I drove through the tiny side streets of Seattle. We had a fantastic time, naked bicycle riders and all! Thus began a series of showings for the Whale throughout Washington State.
Several months later, Shipping Wars reached out again. They had a planned shipment fall through and were hoping to fill a spot on their show with the Whale. There was a rapid timeline, but they pulled some strings and set up a one-day showing for the Whale in Missoula, Montana, at the Montana Center for Arts and Culture Theater.
What ensued was complete ridiculousness. Since it was reality TV, they were consistently upping the drama, and I was not playing along. At one point, the truck driver, Marc, said to me that he couldn’t guarantee that the Whale would survive the journey. I called, “Cut!” And talked to the producer. “Are you telling me that you really can’t commit that the Whale will survive the journey? It’s not exactly replaceable! If we’re going to do this, I need some assurances.” The producer did eventually assure me that they would do everything they could to make sure the Whale wasn’t damaged in the move, and the show went on.
After some more shenanigans and bad whale jokes, the Whale eventually headed out on the road with Marc, making the 500+ mile trek to Missoula, while I hopped a flight to meet them there. I arrived the night before the show, giving me plenty of time to meet a friend from high school for drinks in the evening and get to the theatre the next day. Marc and the Whale, of course, arrived at the last minute and it was all a rush to get it from the truck, into the theater, reassembled and ready for the show.
It was during that show in Missoula, Montana, 500 miles from the ocean, that I began to fully understand the power of story. That art showing, which the museum had only one day to promote, drew in over 800 people. I spent the day on stage with the Whale, answering visitors’ questions and telling them the story of the Whale’s creation; how it was made by 900 people who were learning how plastics impact the ocean; how thousands of marine mammals die each year from ingesting plastics; how each participant committed to use less single-use plastic bags. I used the map on the Whale’s side to show viewers our location and how plastic bags that get in the water in Missoula, Montana are washed all the way to the Pacific Ocean, where ocean currents carry them down to the Great Pacific Gyre, becoming part of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.
I could see the light in their eyes when they got it. Hearing that story, while viewing the Whale, helped them to connect the dots and see how their choices in Missoula could impact the ocean, 500 miles away.
Throughout that year, I was so high and so low at the same time. The night of the show in Missoula, I went out on the town with the camera crew to celebrate the show’s success—and to drink—bookending my time in Missoula with alcohol. We ended up downing shots and bar hopping for hours. I drank so much I could hardly get back to my hotel room. But I wasn’t the only one who got drunk, so I figured it was ok.
Thank you for joining me on the first season of my memoir in motion. I’m curious, what’s stuck with you so far? Leave it in the comments, or drop me a line if that feels better.