Josie Heibel

I hand-delivered these letters to houses around me. Some made it into mailboxes, some through letter slots, some tucked into door handles.

/Mycelial Neighborhood

/Lux Noctis

For a moment, imagine a mushroom.

At one time it was only a spore. When it found the right place, the spore began branching out into an underground web, called mycelium, microscopic white threads that reached into the soil, tangled with plant roots, collecting nutrients and information.

A mushroom sprouts. Above ground, it is silent and still. Underneath, a city is bustling, growing, communicating.

Community is fungal. My neighborhood isn't a street of houses, it's hundreds of people and the relationships they weave. It's something you can't quantify or summarize with data; it's the unrecorded, unnoticed interaction.

You can't see the web until you dig for it- or ask for the stories that make it up.

In my thesis project, Mycelial Neighborhood, I ask twenty people in my community of Highland Park, NJ for a drawing of a mushroom and a story about their neighbors.
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How can you play a part in serving your community's needs?