I'm sure you are all dying to know, has the wind stopped blowing yet, like weather.com predicted it would? And the answer is, no. No, it hasn't. I tried to go sit outside and enjoy the sunshine on my lunch break today and the wind blew the soup off of my spoon. Needless to say, I packed it in pretty quickly... It's such a shame, too, because it really has been lovely here, lately. Day after day of perfectly sunny, beautiful weather - all ruined by the gale-force winds.
On another weather-related note, I was reading another blog today, and there was a description of a Seattle fall day. Specifically, "The nights are starting their long, slow stretch; the mornings grow cooler and cloudier", which just immediately set off a twinge in my heart and a memory of seasons, which I still miss so much. I miss that subtle, almost-unnoticable shift in the weather that signals, instantly, that the seasons are changing. The kind that you wouldn't notice if you hadn't experienced a place for a long period of time. And I think when you have lived with seasons your whole life, you associate those little shifts in weather with specific memories and experiences. That description above immediately set off 10,000 memories in my mind that I associate with fall. With just a description, I can almost feel the crisp air, feel the leaves crunching under my feet, taste the change in the air - it's such an intense feeling, association. And it makes me wistful, and long for those days. I have these kind of memories and these feelings about every season - spring, summer, even winter. Each season has it's own feel, and it's own batch of experiences.
Right now in Portland, would be about the time that the tiny, subtle shifting towards spring begins. Just a fraction more warmth in the air. Tiny green buds on the trees, reaching towards any hint of sunshine. There is hope in the air - of warmth, of growth, of summer. It's a season of shaking off the cobwebs, of renewal, of stretching out limbs that have been trapped indoors for too long. Of getting out and digging in the dirt again, just being outside, feeling the cool air on your skin.
I'm sure it is because I haven't experienced San Francisco for long enough, that I can't sense the seasons here. It's too subtle for me still. I had no sense of a spring ever coming here. If there was a shift, it was completely under the radar for me. Temperatures remain about the same, every day is sunny. I almost welcome the fog that is supposed to come in the summertime, because at least it would be different. Something close to, or at least somewhat resembling, a season.
And yet, it is hard to say if even if there were seasons down here - if tomorrow I felt that subtle shift between winter and spring in the air, somehow - would it be the same? Because of all of my seasonal affections, memories, are tied to a different place. I have a feeling that I would feel the days shorten and cool in fall and wish to be home at mom and dad's, helping Devin make apple cider. Or smelling freshly cut grass and seeing a break in the rain showers and heading out for a quick walk, avoiding the puddles. So I don't think it is the seasons that I miss - I think I just miss my home.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Peter Saul Art Lecture
There was a really great lecture at SFAI by painter Peter Cole that Neil and I went to. Mr. Cole was one of the most entertaining speakers that I have heard in a long time. What made it even more remarkable is that he is 74 years old. The guy has been involved in the art world since the late 1950's! He was refreshingly honest, and not at all caught up in the "myth" of himself, as some artist's can be. And he was pretty kooky, to be honest. I haven't laughed as much at an artist's lecture in a long time. The NY Times has a really good article about Peter Saul, and I'm going to just put it up here for the 1-2 people who read this blog. :)
"NEWPORT BEACH, Calif. — Peter Saul, who turns 74 on Saturday, is a classic artist’s artist, one of our few important practicing history painters and a serial offender in violations of good taste. His career, while long, steady and admired, has never exceeded cult status. It’s an example of can’t-see-the-tree-for-the-forest visibility.
The influence of Mr. Saul’s paintings, with their cartoony figures, lurid-lush colors, splatter-film expressionism and contrarian take on topical subjects, pervades recent art. It has contributed mightily to major careers, like those of Carroll Dunham and Elizabeth Murray. And it has paved the way for the neo-Surrealist noodlings of countless student painters spilling out of art schools and straight into the arms of a ravenous market.
Yet his own welcome by the market has been, until fairly recently, less than avid. His reception by museums has been marked by indifference, if not avoidance. That the retrospective of his work at the Orange County Museum of Art here in Southern California is not scheduled to go to New York City, where Mr. Saul now lives, says much.
True, the Museum of Modern Art, with its white-box politeness, is not a natural home for his visual perversities. Nor is the Metropolitan Museum, despite its vaunted embrace of “challenging” new art. But why hasn’t the Whitney, which owns one of Mr. Saul’s grandly scathing Vietnam War paintings, stepped up to the plate? And where is the new New Museum? Totally lost to painted prettiness these days? (The Saul show of 50 works is organized by a former New Museum curator, Dan Cameron.)
Mr. Saul’s art is not pretty, though it has many eye-catching pleasures. Nor is it polite. Indeed, the artist makes zealous efforts to ensure the opposite. In America today, he says in a catalog interview, “there’s a tremendous need to not be seen as racist, not seen as sexist. So I want to make sure I am seen as those things.” He succeeds. What museum would be the right one for a painting of a knife-wielding O. J. Simpson strapped down for execution as a buxom blond angel points to a blood-stained glove and intones, “This is why you have to die”? Or for a picture of Christopher Columbus slaughtering New World natives who themselves hold platters of chopped human limbs in their arms? What is the appropriate place for art that stirs together John Wayne Gacy and Angela Davis, Mickey Mouse and Ethel Rosenberg, Stalin and Willem de Kooning, Basil Wolverton and George W. Bush, then spikes the broth with prickly references to capitalism, Communism, homophobia, feminism, Black Power, racism, pedophilia and art-world politics and — last but not least — to the aging, decaying, self-lacerating artist himself?
Depending on who’s looking, Mr. Saul might be seen either to embrace or revile individual ingredients in this stew, though when his art is pressed to declare its loyalties, it gives no unequivocal answers. Indeed, it seems to be answer-averse, a species of painting as agitation, picture-making as button-pushing.
Mr. Saul, who was born in San Francisco, started pushing buttons in the late 1950s when he discovered that although he liked the way certain Abstract Expressionist artists painted, he couldn’t stomach the Existentialist mumbo-jumbo that surrounded their work. So he adopted the brushy style but dumped the pretensions. Instead of spiritual depths, he painted icebox interiors stocked with soft drinks, steaks, daggers, penises and toilets. In the process he created a painterly version — Larry Rivers did the same — of what would come to be called Pop Art.
During this time, from 1956 to 1964, he was living in relative isolation in Europe. In Paris he met a few career-shaping figures, including the Surrealist painter Roberto Matta and the American art dealer Allan Frumkin, who would represent Mr. Saul for more than 30 years. He also had transformative encounters with Rembrandt’s “Night Watch” and Mad magazine.
In the mid-to-late ’60s, after he returned to California, Mr. Saul produced a series of paintings prompted by the war in Southeast Asia. In “Vietnam” (1966), done in a sleek, linear but oozy graphic style, figures embodying racial whiteness, blackness and yellowness twist together in a kind of apocalyptic gang rape, with all parties violated and violating.
Other paintings in the series — what an amazing and timely show they would make on their own — push a vision of universal defilement even further. In their unchartable moral compass, their disdain of humanist solace and their alarming formal beauty, they are among the benchmark art images of their era.
In 1975 Mr. Saul moved to New York. But by then painting, or at least his kind, was out of fashion. So in 1981 he relocated, this time to Austin, Tex., to teach. He stayed there for almost 20 years, once again removing himself from the mainstream, and at a time when political art, including political painting, was finding a new audience.
Actually, Mr. Saul had long been doing some of his work for an audience of one, himself, specifically a series of self-portraits that he began in the ’70s and continues to add to today. The images are, almost without exception, of the body caught in the grip of mortifying instincts and erupting emotions while under assault from a hostile world.
In “Oedipus Junior” (1983), the artist simultaneously stabs himself in the eye with a paintbrush, castrates himself with a buzz saw and offers a beer to a female breast that sprouts from his neck. In a 1997 drawing, a vomiting woman pushes through a man’s forehead with a placard reading, “Your sexist jokes make me sick.” In several paintings, heads are shown in meltdown, dissolving into fat and sweat, eyes and teeth swimming around in a puddle of fleshy goo.
Such images — Rembrandt’s late self-portraits are not all that far off — have increased in number as Mr. Saul has grown older. Yet his work continues to look youthfully of the moment. And for young artists he is, for several reasons, a worthy role model.
He has kept himself more or less clear of the art world, so owes it nothing. He has also kept clear of fashion — having a longtime supportive dealer was, naturally, an enabling factor in this — and, with scant critical encouragement until recent years, has gone his own masterly realized hideous-hilarious way. And that way has been based on taking a fundamentally facile genre, Surrealism, and loading it with purposeful, critical content.
If his work has softened and broadened with time — a few of the later pictures in this otherwise sterling selection feel undercooked or overstated — its essence remains tough and firm. This is an art of combative moral ambiguity that looks as if it’s coming from some laugh-riot lunatic fringe but is, in fact, a sane and realistic depiction of the world. What’s wrong with this picture? each Saul painting asks. And each one answers: Everything."
Here are some pictures of his paintings...
The main theme that seemed to run through his whole talk was to stay true to yourself, don't paint something because you think it will please your teachers, or please the critics, or please the buyers - paint what you are truly interested in. In an art school setting, where most students are striving to do exactly that - please your teachers especially - it was an important message, I think. He has also refused to buy into the idea of the art "world". He said that if someone told him that an idea would never sell, or would never fly, it pushed him even more strongly in the direction of doing something. He was always the opposite of the establishment, of what common sense said to do...
Overall, it was just a wonderful, outstanding lecture - and I really wish I could find a clip of him on you tube to put up - he is simply hilarious. Again, I've never laughed so hard at an art lecture.
After the lecture, we headed to Rico's Restaurant, for some of the best burritos in the city, IMHO. Finally, our bellies were full and it was time for bed...
"NEWPORT BEACH, Calif. — Peter Saul, who turns 74 on Saturday, is a classic artist’s artist, one of our few important practicing history painters and a serial offender in violations of good taste. His career, while long, steady and admired, has never exceeded cult status. It’s an example of can’t-see-the-tree-for-the-forest visibility.
The influence of Mr. Saul’s paintings, with their cartoony figures, lurid-lush colors, splatter-film expressionism and contrarian take on topical subjects, pervades recent art. It has contributed mightily to major careers, like those of Carroll Dunham and Elizabeth Murray. And it has paved the way for the neo-Surrealist noodlings of countless student painters spilling out of art schools and straight into the arms of a ravenous market.
Yet his own welcome by the market has been, until fairly recently, less than avid. His reception by museums has been marked by indifference, if not avoidance. That the retrospective of his work at the Orange County Museum of Art here in Southern California is not scheduled to go to New York City, where Mr. Saul now lives, says much.
True, the Museum of Modern Art, with its white-box politeness, is not a natural home for his visual perversities. Nor is the Metropolitan Museum, despite its vaunted embrace of “challenging” new art. But why hasn’t the Whitney, which owns one of Mr. Saul’s grandly scathing Vietnam War paintings, stepped up to the plate? And where is the new New Museum? Totally lost to painted prettiness these days? (The Saul show of 50 works is organized by a former New Museum curator, Dan Cameron.)
Mr. Saul’s art is not pretty, though it has many eye-catching pleasures. Nor is it polite. Indeed, the artist makes zealous efforts to ensure the opposite. In America today, he says in a catalog interview, “there’s a tremendous need to not be seen as racist, not seen as sexist. So I want to make sure I am seen as those things.” He succeeds. What museum would be the right one for a painting of a knife-wielding O. J. Simpson strapped down for execution as a buxom blond angel points to a blood-stained glove and intones, “This is why you have to die”? Or for a picture of Christopher Columbus slaughtering New World natives who themselves hold platters of chopped human limbs in their arms? What is the appropriate place for art that stirs together John Wayne Gacy and Angela Davis, Mickey Mouse and Ethel Rosenberg, Stalin and Willem de Kooning, Basil Wolverton and George W. Bush, then spikes the broth with prickly references to capitalism, Communism, homophobia, feminism, Black Power, racism, pedophilia and art-world politics and — last but not least — to the aging, decaying, self-lacerating artist himself?
Depending on who’s looking, Mr. Saul might be seen either to embrace or revile individual ingredients in this stew, though when his art is pressed to declare its loyalties, it gives no unequivocal answers. Indeed, it seems to be answer-averse, a species of painting as agitation, picture-making as button-pushing.
Mr. Saul, who was born in San Francisco, started pushing buttons in the late 1950s when he discovered that although he liked the way certain Abstract Expressionist artists painted, he couldn’t stomach the Existentialist mumbo-jumbo that surrounded their work. So he adopted the brushy style but dumped the pretensions. Instead of spiritual depths, he painted icebox interiors stocked with soft drinks, steaks, daggers, penises and toilets. In the process he created a painterly version — Larry Rivers did the same — of what would come to be called Pop Art.
During this time, from 1956 to 1964, he was living in relative isolation in Europe. In Paris he met a few career-shaping figures, including the Surrealist painter Roberto Matta and the American art dealer Allan Frumkin, who would represent Mr. Saul for more than 30 years. He also had transformative encounters with Rembrandt’s “Night Watch” and Mad magazine.
In the mid-to-late ’60s, after he returned to California, Mr. Saul produced a series of paintings prompted by the war in Southeast Asia. In “Vietnam” (1966), done in a sleek, linear but oozy graphic style, figures embodying racial whiteness, blackness and yellowness twist together in a kind of apocalyptic gang rape, with all parties violated and violating.
Other paintings in the series — what an amazing and timely show they would make on their own — push a vision of universal defilement even further. In their unchartable moral compass, their disdain of humanist solace and their alarming formal beauty, they are among the benchmark art images of their era.
In 1975 Mr. Saul moved to New York. But by then painting, or at least his kind, was out of fashion. So in 1981 he relocated, this time to Austin, Tex., to teach. He stayed there for almost 20 years, once again removing himself from the mainstream, and at a time when political art, including political painting, was finding a new audience.
Actually, Mr. Saul had long been doing some of his work for an audience of one, himself, specifically a series of self-portraits that he began in the ’70s and continues to add to today. The images are, almost without exception, of the body caught in the grip of mortifying instincts and erupting emotions while under assault from a hostile world.
In “Oedipus Junior” (1983), the artist simultaneously stabs himself in the eye with a paintbrush, castrates himself with a buzz saw and offers a beer to a female breast that sprouts from his neck. In a 1997 drawing, a vomiting woman pushes through a man’s forehead with a placard reading, “Your sexist jokes make me sick.” In several paintings, heads are shown in meltdown, dissolving into fat and sweat, eyes and teeth swimming around in a puddle of fleshy goo.
Such images — Rembrandt’s late self-portraits are not all that far off — have increased in number as Mr. Saul has grown older. Yet his work continues to look youthfully of the moment. And for young artists he is, for several reasons, a worthy role model.
He has kept himself more or less clear of the art world, so owes it nothing. He has also kept clear of fashion — having a longtime supportive dealer was, naturally, an enabling factor in this — and, with scant critical encouragement until recent years, has gone his own masterly realized hideous-hilarious way. And that way has been based on taking a fundamentally facile genre, Surrealism, and loading it with purposeful, critical content.
If his work has softened and broadened with time — a few of the later pictures in this otherwise sterling selection feel undercooked or overstated — its essence remains tough and firm. This is an art of combative moral ambiguity that looks as if it’s coming from some laugh-riot lunatic fringe but is, in fact, a sane and realistic depiction of the world. What’s wrong with this picture? each Saul painting asks. And each one answers: Everything."
Here are some pictures of his paintings...
The main theme that seemed to run through his whole talk was to stay true to yourself, don't paint something because you think it will please your teachers, or please the critics, or please the buyers - paint what you are truly interested in. In an art school setting, where most students are striving to do exactly that - please your teachers especially - it was an important message, I think. He has also refused to buy into the idea of the art "world". He said that if someone told him that an idea would never sell, or would never fly, it pushed him even more strongly in the direction of doing something. He was always the opposite of the establishment, of what common sense said to do...
Overall, it was just a wonderful, outstanding lecture - and I really wish I could find a clip of him on you tube to put up - he is simply hilarious. Again, I've never laughed so hard at an art lecture.
After the lecture, we headed to Rico's Restaurant, for some of the best burritos in the city, IMHO. Finally, our bellies were full and it was time for bed...
Monday, April 27, 2009
The answer is blowing in the wind...
Well, something is blowing in the wind, that's for sure. The wind has been absolutely brutal in San Francisco for the last few days. Ever since we had that 80 degree heat and NO wind last Tuesday, I think the wind gods are trying to make up for lost time. It makes it completely miserable to go outside. Waiting for the bus is absolute torture and the wind creates a completely new hairstyle for me as I wait. It's not pretty...
Down on the Embarcadero this evening, waiting for the bus, I was watching a flag on the cruise ship that was in port, and I swear it was about to be torn off of its flagpole. I do not approve. Any day that the wind would like to be gone, is fine with me. The current forecast for today was winds at 28mph, gusting up to 33mph. Not a hurricane, I'll give you that, but just generally unpleasant all together. AND with the wind chill effect, it effectively feels like 42 degrees out right now. That's cold for San Francisco, folks - especially when an ocean gust blows right through your thin jacket! A brief glance at weather.com says that it's supposed to die back down to the regular 12mph in a few days. One can only hope.
We might be attending a Giants game on Sunday, which will be fun, even if we have to sit in the nosebleed seats. We actually tuned into a game the other night on the telly and watched Tim Lincecum pitch. Quite entertaining, actually, although I've never truly been much of a baseball fan.
Well, that's all for now. Just trying to get back in the swing of blogging. Nothing exciting to report, but just thought I would write and record my dismay at all the wind. WIND BE GONE!! (We'll see if that works)...
Sunday, April 26, 2009
It's baaaaaaack...
Back by the popular demand of...one person, I decided to start the blog back up. Since no one really reads it, and that's okay, it is still a great place to record all of what's happening here in San Francisco. I'll look back and be really glad I did this, someday.
Anywhoo, when I last left you, there were some goals to be achieved. I am only going to say that only one of those three goals is currently anywhere near being achieved - you can figure out which ones that might be. That's life, I guess... Good intentions and all that. I have definitely learned something about myself in the process - I love to prepare, plan and look forward to things, and I'm really bad at following through and actually seeing those things happen. So that might be the next goal - pick just one thing and actually finish it.
So, now that the goals have been dispatched, what's currently going on here in Frisco? Well, yesterday was Earth Day, which is organized and put on by the State Parks Foundation (where I work, in case anyone has forgotten). Volunteers came out to 29 different state parks across the state to clean up, perform maintenance, and pitch in however the park needs them. The state parks just don't get the funding to do all of the deferred maintenance that they need, so this is a wonderful opportunity for the public to get out there and volunteer, and for the parks to get free help completing simple projects that they just don't have the time or funding to do/finish.
I was assigned to Angel Island State Park, with my co-worker Eleanor. Even though Angel Island is just right across the bay from San Francisco, I had to rent a car, to drive to Tiburon which is where the only ferry to Angel Island leaves from. So I picked up my Zipcar at 7:30 and headed around the bay. Tiburon is a very wealthy community across the bay from San Francisco, in Marin county. It was a beautiful sunny morning, and perfect weather for working outdoors. We couldn't have asked for better.
We met at the ferry terminal, and headed over to the island, via a private cruise on the state boat. The volunteers would all register at the Tiburon dock, and then come over on the 10:00 ferry. We were heading over early to help "organize" out on the island.
It was a perfect morning to be out on the ferry - with pristine views of the Golden Gate Bridge, and the San Francisco skyline in the distance.
As we were there as representatives of the Foundation, we were supposed to be supporting the state park staff in putting the event on. However, they had everything so under control, and so well-planned, that, after the opening welcomes and thank-you's, we were able to head out on a crew to help with beach cleanup. We took a tram out to the south side of the island to a beach where we were picked up trash. The amount of styra-foam on that beach was absolutely astounding. I picked up so many pieces of cups, trays, packaging - none of it bio-degradable. Such a shame. It was really a wake-up call, to see it first hand, to be more aware of the stuff that I use on a daily basis, and how it affects the environment that I live in.
It was quite a nice view from the beach we were working at, as well:
Anywhoo, when I last left you, there were some goals to be achieved. I am only going to say that only one of those three goals is currently anywhere near being achieved - you can figure out which ones that might be. That's life, I guess... Good intentions and all that. I have definitely learned something about myself in the process - I love to prepare, plan and look forward to things, and I'm really bad at following through and actually seeing those things happen. So that might be the next goal - pick just one thing and actually finish it.
So, now that the goals have been dispatched, what's currently going on here in Frisco? Well, yesterday was Earth Day, which is organized and put on by the State Parks Foundation (where I work, in case anyone has forgotten). Volunteers came out to 29 different state parks across the state to clean up, perform maintenance, and pitch in however the park needs them. The state parks just don't get the funding to do all of the deferred maintenance that they need, so this is a wonderful opportunity for the public to get out there and volunteer, and for the parks to get free help completing simple projects that they just don't have the time or funding to do/finish.
I was assigned to Angel Island State Park, with my co-worker Eleanor. Even though Angel Island is just right across the bay from San Francisco, I had to rent a car, to drive to Tiburon which is where the only ferry to Angel Island leaves from. So I picked up my Zipcar at 7:30 and headed around the bay. Tiburon is a very wealthy community across the bay from San Francisco, in Marin county. It was a beautiful sunny morning, and perfect weather for working outdoors. We couldn't have asked for better.
We met at the ferry terminal, and headed over to the island, via a private cruise on the state boat. The volunteers would all register at the Tiburon dock, and then come over on the 10:00 ferry. We were heading over early to help "organize" out on the island.
It was a perfect morning to be out on the ferry - with pristine views of the Golden Gate Bridge, and the San Francisco skyline in the distance.
We pulled into Ayala Cove out at Angel Island, and basically just enjoyed the view and the weather and waited for the volunteers to arrive - the park rangers had everything perfectly organized and ready to go.
Angel Island really is amazingly beautiful. It is referred to as the "Ellis Island of the West" - Chinese and Japanese immigrants coming to the west coast were all processed through Angel Island, and many of them were held on the island in quarantine for certain diseases and other reasons - sometimes for months on end. The immigration station and some of the barracks and the hospital are currently being restored for visitors to come and see how conditions were while the island was operational. There is also miles of hiking and biking trails around the island, and 9 camping spaces. Neil and I will be heading out there again to spend some time on the island sometime soon.
It was quite a nice view from the beach we were working at, as well:
We finished up with quite a large pile of garbage - kind of sad that this much garbage shows up on beaches, but very good that we got it all picked up! We hopped back on the tram to go back to Ayala Cove where we were served a lovely lunch of pasta, Caesar Salad and garlic bread. With a dessert of oatmeal cookies. I was kind of upset to have to give up a weekend day "working", but it ended up being a truly lovely day, with perfect weather and really nice people. I am glad to have participated.
And, on another tangent, I may have also found Neil and summer job! YAY! Working for the Foundation, helping out in the membership department. They are looking for some part-time, flexible help that they can pay as an independent contractor - Neil fits that bill perfectly. The membership manager, Eleanor, was my co-worker out on Angel Island, and so we got to talking about how over-working they all were and how they needed help, and what they were currently looking for. So it ended up being a very fruitful day, in more than one way.
I made a really great soup for dinner last night, as well, and thought I would share the recipe with you all. It was nice and hearty and filling after a long day on Angel Island.
Bortlotti Bean Minestrone: (taken from the March 2009 edition of Cooking Light)
1 1/4 cups dried Borlotti Beans (you could also substitute 2 cans of white beans and skip step #1)
1/2 cup coarsely chopped bacon
1 cup chopped onion
1 cup chopped fennel bulb
3/4 cup chopped carrot
3/4 cup chopped celery
1 tsp dried basil
3 garlic cloves, minced
3 cups chopped Swiss Chard or Kale
2 14.5-oz. cans of chicken broth
1 14.5-oz. can diced tomatoes, undrained
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese
1. Sort and wash beans; place in a large bowl. Cover with water to 2 inches above beans; cover and let stand 8 hours or overnight. Drain beans.
2. Place beans in a large saucepan, and cover with water to 3 inches above beans; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; simmer 1 1/2 hours or until tender. Drain.
3. Heat a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add bacon to pan, cook 6 minutes or until crisp, stirring frequently. Add onion and next 5 ingredients (through garlic); saute 4 minutes. Add chard (or kale) and saute 2 minutes or until chard wilts. Add broth and tomatoes; bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat and simmer 30 minutes. Add beans; simmer, uncovered, 30 minutes. Stir in salt and pepper; sprinkle with cheese.
It's quite tasty!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Art art art
This weekend was full of art. Which is always a good thing. Saturday, after a stop at the Farmer's Market for a week's worth of vegetable goodies, I headed over to the SFMOMA to meet my friend Linnea. I hadn't been back to the MOMA since I interviewed there in June and I figured I was about due for another visit. Of course Neil has been going every Thursday night for free beer for the last month, but it is not free for the likes of me. He gets free entrance for being an SFAI student, and thus free access to complimentary beer. It is actually an art exhibit that is going on right now called "The highest form of art is having a beer with your friends". The art exhibit is just the experience that people have when they come and mingle. The overall exhibit is called the art of participation and it's very interesting. And hard to describe. The museum website describes it like this: "Looking back nearly 60 years across a wide spectrum of genres and media, this exhibition examines how artists have engaged members of the public as essential collaborators in the art-making process."
Then we spent a lot of time in the "Art of Participation" exhibit. There was a whole bunch of really interesting, really weird stuff. Mostly video, because these sort of exhibits are usually something that happened one time, in the past. And so the only way to "exhibit" them is to show the videotape of what happened way back when. That's the challenging part of performance art, is how to exhibit it in a museum after it has already happened. Here are some pictures of the stuff that was on exhibit:
This last one was one of the most interesting for me. You both put on this pair of noise-canceling headphones that has a microphone attached. But when you speak into the microphone, or if the other person speaks, you don't hear what was said for like 30-40 seconds. So the information doesn't get to you right away, and you are both talking over each other at first. It's interesting to think of what life would be like if this were the way things really were. You would have to be so much more intent on what people were talking and communication would take so much more concentration. Although I guess it would just be normal if that's the way life really was...Anywhoo - it was kind of fun.
So we started at the top of the museum, and looked at a whole bunch of sculpture by Martin Puryears. He works with natural materials like wood, rawhide, etc. This was one of my favorite sculptures - it is made out of such hard materials, but the resulting piece is so soft in appearance, and so full and round.
Here is a few more pieces:
Then we spent a lot of time in the "Art of Participation" exhibit. There was a whole bunch of really interesting, really weird stuff. Mostly video, because these sort of exhibits are usually something that happened one time, in the past. And so the only way to "exhibit" them is to show the videotape of what happened way back when. That's the challenging part of performance art, is how to exhibit it in a museum after it has already happened. Here are some pictures of the stuff that was on exhibit:This last one was one of the most interesting for me. You both put on this pair of noise-canceling headphones that has a microphone attached. But when you speak into the microphone, or if the other person speaks, you don't hear what was said for like 30-40 seconds. So the information doesn't get to you right away, and you are both talking over each other at first. It's interesting to think of what life would be like if this were the way things really were. You would have to be so much more intent on what people were talking and communication would take so much more concentration. Although I guess it would just be normal if that's the way life really was...Anywhoo - it was kind of fun.We took a coffee break in the cafe at this point to rest our eyes and minds before tackling the painting collection. The painting collection doesn't change too often, and so most of the stuff on the walls I had already seen, but it's always nice to peruse through again. I think the Portland Art Musueum has a more interesting collection than the MOMA, interestingly, but I'm sure I'm just biased cause that's what I am used to.
By the time we finished, we had spent 3 lovely hours surrounded by art and that pretty much wiped the day out for me. I was planning on going home and starting to work on my own art, but by the time I got home, there was just time for cleaning the kitchen and cooking dinner.
So I got down to business on Sunday morning instead. I finally have gathered all the stuff that I needed to start making a lamp - lamp kit, bamboo reeds, bamboo skewers and papers. Neil introduced me to the coolest paper store on earth!! It's called Flax and it has more papers in one room than I have ever seen in my whole life. Printed papers, natural papers, crinkled papers, sparkly papers. I was in paper heaven.
So, with all my materials at the ready, and a design in my mind, I got to work. It felt so fantastic to be working with my hands again. I love to build and to feel the materials and watch things come together. Working with little wires, and super glue and tweezers and pliers and my drills - these are all things that I love to. I lost myself in the project for 3 hours or so, and finished the base of the lamp completely. I haven't found time to get back to it yet this week, but I can't wait! So far, it appears to be going well and the base seems to be a lot stronger than last time I built a lamp with hot glue only.
I am proud to say that I've been doing pretty well with the running, too. I miss a day every now and then (usually on weekends), but overall I've managed to keep up with the schedule. My longest run now has been 4 miles and I didn't die. Although I came close. Yesterday I got to do a "tempo" run, which means that I actually get to pick up the pace for a little while during the run. The distance is a lot shorter, which means I can run faster. That felt nice. It gets a little old to just be plugging away for mile after mile...
One other item of note: I saw the strangest thing yesterday while riding the bus to my doctor's appointment. I glanced out the window and had to do a double-take: there was a cat riding along on the back of a dog's back. The dog was just trotting along and the cat was just along for the ride on his back. The strangest thing. Smart cat.
So, with all my materials at the ready, and a design in my mind, I got to work. It felt so fantastic to be working with my hands again. I love to build and to feel the materials and watch things come together. Working with little wires, and super glue and tweezers and pliers and my drills - these are all things that I love to. I lost myself in the project for 3 hours or so, and finished the base of the lamp completely. I haven't found time to get back to it yet this week, but I can't wait! So far, it appears to be going well and the base seems to be a lot stronger than last time I built a lamp with hot glue only.
I am proud to say that I've been doing pretty well with the running, too. I miss a day every now and then (usually on weekends), but overall I've managed to keep up with the schedule. My longest run now has been 4 miles and I didn't die. Although I came close. Yesterday I got to do a "tempo" run, which means that I actually get to pick up the pace for a little while during the run. The distance is a lot shorter, which means I can run faster. That felt nice. It gets a little old to just be plugging away for mile after mile...
One other item of note: I saw the strangest thing yesterday while riding the bus to my doctor's appointment. I glanced out the window and had to do a double-take: there was a cat riding along on the back of a dog's back. The dog was just trotting along and the cat was just along for the ride on his back. The strangest thing. Smart cat.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Wine-tasting on MLKJr. Day
We went wine-tasting in Sonoma county on Monday and I have been a little slow to post about this wonderful trip because I have been sucked into the black hole of time that is Facebook. Since I started actually using it at the beginning of January, I have been re-connected with friends from all time periods of my life - high school, my trip to Israel, college, track, volleyball, work - people have just been popping out of the woodwork! And it is so fabulous to be in touch with people again and find out what is going on in their lives, but it is also starting to take a lot of time to keep up with everyone.
It just feels so good to get out of the city every now and then. And the day was beautiful - blue sky as far as the eye could see. A perfect day for wine country...
Our first stop was just outside of Sonoma - the Jacuzzi Family Wineries. Because it was free. And basically the only winery in Sonoma that is. We found out when we got inside that this is because it just opened in 2007. They are still trying to attract people.
It's always a little nerve-wracking for me walking in to do wine-tasting, because I don't know the first about wine. Except that I like it. I pick a wine because it's cheap and it has a pretty label - which I'm sure would be extremely frowned upon by people in the know...I always feel like the pouring people are just going to ask me to please let myself out. But we had a very nice lady who poured our wine for us and we got to try 5 wines - 2 whites and 3 reds. The pinot noir was terrible but the rest of them were pretty good.
With the warm sunshine, the setting, and the good conversation - it was perfect!! I think we all ate a little too much, and had to roll ourselves to the car to continue our wine-tour. We headed north towards Healdsburg and the free wine-tastings...There are vineyards as far as the eye can see - every available space is planted...
Our next winery was one of the smallest in the county - Porter Creek Vineyards. A very interesting Scotsman poured our tastes of about 7 or 8 wines, and "tasted" with us the whole time. He was quite entertaining and really took a fancy to Rochelle. He gave us the most in-depth information about the wine that we were tasting out of all the wineries, and we spent the most time at this one. I made my first wine purchase here - a bottle of a red wine that I can't remember the name of. It was a fairly obscure grape, though - not one I've ever seen before. But it was yummy. In a store, I never would have paid this much for a bottle of wine, but in the tasting room, among the vineyards, with all the first-hand information about how the wine was made, it seemed like a much better deal.
All the wineries were closed now, so we called it a day and headed back into the city. All in all, I thought it was a wonderful, successful day. We tasted a lot of wine, had a great lunch, saw some beautiful scenery, and enjoyed each other's company. Couldn't ask for much more!!
The most surprising and really special people that I have been in touch with this last week is my mission team members from when I went to Israel in 1995. That summer was so intense and made a huge impact on my life and the people that I went with became almost like family. But when we got back to the U.S., we all scattered back to our homes and I lost touch with everyone except my best friend, Krista. I often thought about these people, because when you are in the conditions that we were in together, you form special bonds and you remember them, even if you don't know where they all are. I never thought I would get a chance to communicate with most of them ever again. Then last week, I received an invitation to join a group from my friend Jimmy, who also went on the mission. When I checked it out, I found 5 other members of the team also in the group. I was ECSTATIC!! So I've spent all week catching up and watching as we try to hunt down other members of our team. It's been like a little mini-family reunion and all the wonderful (and not so wonderful) memories have been flooding back, as we all reminisce about that summer. I never thought that Facebook was much - but I didn't know it's possibilities. This has been an amazing treat and just a wonderful week getting back in touch with people I thought I would never hear from again. So, this is why I have been remiss in getting the posts up - more important things at the moment...
So, without further ado, pictures and story from our wine-tasting adventure on Monday:
We set out Monday morning with our friends Rochelle and Lindsay. Rochelle has a car and very very graciously agreed to be our chauffer for the day (and our designated driver, although we really didn't end up needing one).
We set out Monday morning with our friends Rochelle and Lindsay. Rochelle has a car and very very graciously agreed to be our chauffer for the day (and our designated driver, although we really didn't end up needing one).
It just feels so good to get out of the city every now and then. And the day was beautiful - blue sky as far as the eye could see. A perfect day for wine country...
We didn't really have much of a plan - we had a map of all the Sonoma county wineries and a listing of all the places that offered complimentary wine tastings. You see, most of the wineries in Napa and Sonoma actually charge hefty tasting fees. Most of the wineries in Napa are like $40 a pop. That's almost four times as much as I usually pay for a single bottle of wine. So, we were focused on free tastings, and that led us mostly outside of Sonoma and up north to Healdsburg and the Russian River Valley area. The surprising thing is that there is way more wineries up in this area anyways - just not as well-known.
We turned off on highway 121 to Sonoma and immediately started to seeing the fields of vines.
Our first stop was just outside of Sonoma - the Jacuzzi Family Wineries. Because it was free. And basically the only winery in Sonoma that is. We found out when we got inside that this is because it just opened in 2007. They are still trying to attract people. It's always a little nerve-wracking for me walking in to do wine-tasting, because I don't know the first about wine. Except that I like it. I pick a wine because it's cheap and it has a pretty label - which I'm sure would be extremely frowned upon by people in the know...I always feel like the pouring people are just going to ask me to please let myself out. But we had a very nice lady who poured our wine for us and we got to try 5 wines - 2 whites and 3 reds. The pinot noir was terrible but the rest of them were pretty good.
So, after surviving our first winery, we set out on the road again. By this time, it was about noon and we were getting hungry, so we hit Whole Foods to put together an awesome picnic. Lindsay and I did some cheese-tasting to complement our wine-tasting and picked a delicious cheese, if I do say so myself. Can't remember the name of it, though. Darn. Then we got baguettes, grapes, salami, tapenade, and some mixed olives. Rochelle had brought some gruyere, crackers and sausage, so all in all, we had quite a feast. We pulled over at a winery that had a picnic area and bought a bottle of Pinot Grigio. The winery lent us glasses since we were eating on the premises and we sat down to one of the best lunches I have ever had.
With the warm sunshine, the setting, and the good conversation - it was perfect!! I think we all ate a little too much, and had to roll ourselves to the car to continue our wine-tour. We headed north towards Healdsburg and the free wine-tastings...There are vineyards as far as the eye can see - every available space is planted...
After passing Santa Rosa, we got off highway 101 and hit our second winery of the day: Martinelli Winery - no relation to the apple-cider folks...we think. We got to try 5 wines at this winery, as well, and I thought they were all fantastic!! In fact, as wine goes, I think this was my favorite winery of the day. Unfortunately, their cheapest bottle was $30 and it only went up from there, topping out at $70 for a bottle of some red wine. Yikes. A little above my price threshold.
The next winery was a little ways away, and we wound through more vineyards and crossed a pretty little creek. The sun was starting to get lower in the sky at this point, and the light was beautiful. A lot of the vineyards had stuff planted between their vines, and one field was all blooming with little yellow flowers. In the sunlight, it looked so cheerful and summery.
Our next winery was one of the smallest in the county - Porter Creek Vineyards. A very interesting Scotsman poured our tastes of about 7 or 8 wines, and "tasted" with us the whole time. He was quite entertaining and really took a fancy to Rochelle. He gave us the most in-depth information about the wine that we were tasting out of all the wineries, and we spent the most time at this one. I made my first wine purchase here - a bottle of a red wine that I can't remember the name of. It was a fairly obscure grape, though - not one I've ever seen before. But it was yummy. In a store, I never would have paid this much for a bottle of wine, but in the tasting room, among the vineyards, with all the first-hand information about how the wine was made, it seemed like a much better deal.
It was 4:30 at this point, and our wine-tasting day was almost over. We hurried through two more wineries - Arista and Armida (where there was a fantastic red wine) - and I purchased one more bottle of wine, and tied a record for most bottles of wine ever purchased in a day. The sun was really getting low at this point, so we stopped for a moment and enjoyed the beautiful views:
All the wineries were closed now, so we called it a day and headed back into the city. All in all, I thought it was a wonderful, successful day. We tasted a lot of wine, had a great lunch, saw some beautiful scenery, and enjoyed each other's company. Couldn't ask for much more!!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Nothing special
Some general musings:
1. Yesterday morning, on the way into work, I accidentally, without noticing, pushed a button on my I-pod that set it to repeat whatever song was playing, indefinitely. I didn't realize this until I was walking home from the bus stop last night and wondered why I was still listening to the same song as when I walked out the door this morning. Average morning commute + average evening commute = 40 minutes. Of the same song. Before I realized something was off. I've never claimed to be the sharpest tack in the box, but...
2. I ate half a bag of macadamia nuts last night without suffering any negative consequences. I was told in my youth that macadamia nuts, when eaten in excess, can give you (ahem) the runs. Now I believe this to be an elaborate scheme to keep me from eating all of the macadamia nuts by myself. Because they are tasty, my friends...
3. Sloth begats...more sloth. All week long, when I come home from my run, I have been telling myself that I will sit on the couch for only a half hour and watch one episode of Friends. I then proceed to spend all night on the couch, rising only to hunt for the remote control...Nothing is getting done. I have now realized that the key to solving this problem - no sitting down. Period. So I will test this theory tonight. I will wash dishes and start bread before the run, then proceed directly to the kitchen upon returning from the run...
Hope everyone had a fantastic week! The weekend is here YAY!
1. Yesterday morning, on the way into work, I accidentally, without noticing, pushed a button on my I-pod that set it to repeat whatever song was playing, indefinitely. I didn't realize this until I was walking home from the bus stop last night and wondered why I was still listening to the same song as when I walked out the door this morning. Average morning commute + average evening commute = 40 minutes. Of the same song. Before I realized something was off. I've never claimed to be the sharpest tack in the box, but...
2. I ate half a bag of macadamia nuts last night without suffering any negative consequences. I was told in my youth that macadamia nuts, when eaten in excess, can give you (ahem) the runs. Now I believe this to be an elaborate scheme to keep me from eating all of the macadamia nuts by myself. Because they are tasty, my friends...
3. Sloth begats...more sloth. All week long, when I come home from my run, I have been telling myself that I will sit on the couch for only a half hour and watch one episode of Friends. I then proceed to spend all night on the couch, rising only to hunt for the remote control...Nothing is getting done. I have now realized that the key to solving this problem - no sitting down. Period. So I will test this theory tonight. I will wash dishes and start bread before the run, then proceed directly to the kitchen upon returning from the run...
Hope everyone had a fantastic week! The weekend is here YAY!
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