Of Time and Passage
[As told by Dominique Moody, October 2016]
"Way before we ever crossed a border as migrants, immigrants, enslaved captives or refugees we were nomadic. As indigenous people we lived our lives in the freedom of what was defined as "birds of passage” or nomads. In this way of life we were drawn by the pull of our mother earth’s cycle of seasonal change. We crossed unimagined borders seeking temporary resting places, but we knew the earth was home.”
I was born the sixth of nine children to African- American parents in 1950s Germany. My parents were married at an early age. Both were born during the Great Depression and their coming of age in struggle with the everyday realities of the racial and economic inequities in America drove them to seek out alternative ways to live.
For them home was initially found in trailers that allowed them the freedom to roam during the 50’s throughout the U.S. Although this way of being mobile was more familiar to military families it was still unusual to find a black family choosing this option. But as an Army officer my father was able to bring his family with him wherever he was stationed.
From 1948 to 1956—and 5 children later—my family traveled throughout the states and then went abroad to Germany. It was there that I was born.
As the sixth child, and the first born abroad we lived in a variety of traditional German as well as military housing in Augsburg, Munich and Frankfurt. By the time I was four, we had lived in at least four different places. I wasn’t afraid or disturbed by this pattern. I embraced it instead allowing it to become a nurturing
ground for my imagination to grow. These experiences helped shape my practice of the visual arts from painting, storytelling and assemblage sculpture.
Perhaps my confidence came from my sense of being a child of the world. I remember my first conscious memory when I looked out the window of the military transport plane in wonderment of the earth, sky and clouds from above. This view of the world allowed me to envision the entire world as my home, and that like a nomadic bird I would build my nest in many places.
Decades later, my dream deferred has become my nomadic art home, which has now been realized in the footprint of a tiny mobile dwelling: the NOMAD (an acronym for Narrative, Odyssey, Manifesting, Artistic, Dreams). It is through my diverse and eclectic background that I have found my place in the world. Through it I have been provided a sense of freedom and inclusion.
As an artist in the Los Angeles area I was provided a very unique and rich community in which to work and live. Unlike experiences that other people of color may have encountered in their regions, I was embraced by those around me. The NOMAD only served to continue that pattern. Albeit a hard sell—this mobile lifestyle— to people so grounded in their communities, it was not overlooked for its inclusion of heritage, history and legacy.
In 2005 I knew living in Los Angeles was becoming more expensive and more difficult. The landscape was changing quickly on a number of levels. I knew that in order to continue my creative pursuits I needed to figure out how to change my environment. It was then that I decided to dust off what I had tabled 30 years prior regarding living in a smaller way. One key moment stands out though, a chance introduction to Jay Shafer and the Tumbleweed.
I was looking at a natural home magazine and I came across a one-page article on Jay Shafer. What struck me the most was that in the 1980s I was considering a converted house truck or something similar and here on that magazine page I was seeing something so closely related. The idea of making a transportable home was inspiring and building a house on a detachable trailer was innovative, because you could be more sensitive to the environment and your surroundings. So after reading that article I decided to seek Jay out. I called information, and spoke with him. We spent a couple of hours talking and really connected in a lot of ways. After the call, I felt the conversation turned into a catalyst for me to act on my dream.
In that conversation we connected as artists and because of our passion for architecture. I also shared with him that I am legally blind. We agreed that those were dynamic starting points. His trailer seemed to connect with me as a way that people could find a sense of home; an identity.
When people see the NOMAD now they see “home.” It has the familiar things: a porch, windows, a door. Beyond even that though, the NOMAD has a story. It is a point of connection for all walks of life.
When I made the decision to build a tiny house it was a personal decision.
It was what I needed. But as soon as I chose to share my vision, people reacted. There was of course, the “WOW factor.” They would ask, “What? You’re doing what? How?” One of the biggest questions though was “Where would your community be?”
Because I walk through this world as a woman of color I am confronted with challenge regularly. But taking on a challenge such as this one was perplexing to so many people around me. They were both drawn to the idea and confused by it. I didn’t have the answers though. In 2005-2010, there was little information on tiny houses and few templates, but the idea seeded the notion for me to create home within my reflection of culture. It seemed like a radical choice in which I would be living outside of traditional social and cultural norms. Thankfully those norms have now been expanded on and it seems less rebellious. But I still knew as a person of color that those communities are less visible in their embrace of this new option. By choosing this path I am not only identifying myself as a global citizen but I am making my presence visible. The NOMAD has allowed people to be drawn to me and my experience, and I, to them. It breaks down walls and allows a sense of exploration across communities.
Since moving into the NOMAD I have encountered people who in any other situation, might not even exchange a hello. But with the NOMAD, greetings turn into a full blown conversations and an exchange of ideas. It creates the space so necessary for diversity to truly thrive. The NOMAD creates community wherever it goes. It inspires conversation. That said, it is important to note that conversation is the key element to true acceptance of diversity.
The NOMAD is very much a living piece of art to me. It is my creation and my passion embodied. It is a reflection of who I am, a woman of color. My personal history is an assemblage of rich experience and the same can be said of the NOMAD.
Building the NOMAD took more than three years and literally dozens of hands reached out to help me build and create my home. Its walls embody the experiences of many and reflects diversity.
There is a greater dialogue that must be had but there must also be a catalyst for that dialogue. Walls must be broken down and hearts must be left unguarded.
Like the NOMAD, we must open our doors and welcome others to our porch. We must embrace our neighbors, the shoes they walk in, and the riches they can share.
