To the outsider’s eye, the day at MacDowell appears to be quite regimented: the breakfast bell, the dinner bell, the surreptitious yet punctual arrival of one’s lunch basket. Yet if life at MacDowell is ostensibly shaped around meals (the comradely quiet of breakfast, the solitary lunch, the often animated dinner), the days themselves, the hours around and between those meals, have a weird exhilarating elasticity. And time can, and does, stop at MacDowell: One morning in April of 1986, a small group of us sat at the breakfast table eating oranges and toast while huge clumps of spring snow fell outside, and we all swore it was 8:40 for about 20 minutes.
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Through the Alliance membership and meetings I have met and befriended so many people who have such a vast knowledge of the artist-in-residency field. These experts have been welcoming, open for questions, and so supportive of the emerging members.
— Michele Richey, Prairie Center of the Arts
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