My name is Winnie and this quarter I am the art intern on the farm. My relationship with the farm transformed after helping with Althea Rao’s (Multidisciplinary Artist, PhD student, UW DXARTS) art piece at the Mercer Court location. Her processional altar, Chestful of Whispers, was part of a larger piece through the Henry Art Gallery and artist Daniel Alexander Jones, taking place at 5 locations on the UW campus. You can learn more about the overall installation here.

Before the processional began, participants were asked by Jones: “What if being part of a whole means that we choose to see one another’s memories as sacred?” This question became very important in Althea’s piece, which was centered around the narrative of the Mercer Girls. Althea explained the history behind these 12 women being transported to Seattle for Mr. Mercer to impregnate (without their knowledge of these motives). In arriving in Seattle, these women gave birth to new lives. The relevance of this story became clear when we began planting seeds immediately after hearing it. Althea passed around information about seeds and how they got to this land. My job was to hold a chest of seeds in which participants would “retrieve a whisper” about the strength and wisdom each seed has to offer.

Turnip seeds, brought over by early settlers and edible from leaf to root, whispered “be brave and dedicate your whole self”. Collard greens, brought over through the transatlantic slave trade (likely braided in the hair of African women), whispered “remember your ancestors”. And red amaranth, indigenous to the Americas and which Spanish conquistadors attempted to burn out, whispered “you’ll outlive them”. After retrieving the whispers, we all planted these seeds in the pollinator planting area at the Mercer Court farm location. In planting, we considered what future we were planting and cultivating these seeds for.

This ceremony changed the way I see the farm and planting seeds. Yes, we plant seeds for food and sustenance, but that food that will not be available until the future. If we are always looking towards our future, what will be left after us? Will the trees and the birds mourn for us? What will we leave behind? What will be our legacy? Planting has such a different meaning for me now: power, agency, and birth of a new generation. As a woman, it made me feel closer to my body and the power that this body has to affect in this world. Giving birth is like planting a seed for a new generation. It reminds me of a quote that Eli Wheat recently shared with me, “The ultimate goal of farming is not the growing of crops, but the cultivation and perfection of human beings” (Masanobu Fukuoka, The One-Straw Revolution). We are taking part in shaping the future, as an individual, as a generation, as a society.