Opinion
I never would have considered putting together this exhibit while my mother was still alive. Ursula K. Le Guin was a writer who famously said, “Don’t shove me into your damn pigeonhole, where I don’t fit, because I’m all over.” This sentiment alone made me hesitant to create an exhibition that might limit her multifaceted identity.
In curating the exhibition “A Larger Reality” at Oregon Contemporary, I included the first typewriter my mother ever owned. This heavy, outdated machine lacks an exclamation point on its keyboard, requiring users to type an apostrophe and then backspace to create the punctuation mark. I wanted visitors to experience the nostalgia and magic of this relic, allowing them to type whatever they wished and take home the original copy while leaving a carbon copy behind.
The sound of metal meeting paper as visitors type on the Underwood typewriter fills the gallery, evoking memories of my childhood. Some visitors tentatively peck at the keys, while others confidently produce the familiar clack-clack sound. It’s a shared experience that connects strangers through their love of my mother’s writing and the power of words.
People write poetry, memoirs, fiction, and political statements on the typewriter. Some leave short tributes to Ursula, while others compose spontaneous prose or poetry. One visitor even questioned how Ursula would feel about her work and cultural impact living on after her death. As the curator and literary executor, this question weighs on me, but I find solace in Ursula’s belief that a book only comes alive when a reader opens it.
Reflecting on my mother’s legacy through her letters, manuscripts, and drawings for the exhibition has been a mix of grief and joy. Curating a show about a parent is a unique experience, and many visitors have asked me what Ursula would think of the exhibition. Honestly, I can’t say for sure. I’ve learned not to second-guess my decisions based on what she might have wanted, as she was a constantly evolving artist who resisted being pigeonholed.
Ursula’s essay “The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction” suggests that linear storytelling, often imposed on exhibitions, doesn’t always serve us well. She advocates for a more expansive, inclusive approach to storytelling, likening it to a carrier bag that can hold diverse narratives and perspectives. Embracing this concept, I strived to create an exhibition that is wordy, baggy, and inconclusive, yet engaging and true to my mother’s spirit.
Exhibitions can be like carrier bags for culture and knowledge, offering opportunities for exploration, participation, and immersion. By freeing myself from the constraints of a tidy narrative, I was able to create a space that honors Ursula K. Le Guin’s legacy in all its complexity and richness.
