Little Pocket Friend by Yoshihisa Maitani San

I've asked Santa for an original Olympus XA, designed by Yoshihisa Maitani. Beautiful little thing. I am very excited. I love to see how different cameras see. I realize now that for the past decade and longer, camera toys have featured prominently in my Christmas lists. So this year it is the Olympus XA and a new wide angle lens for my Canon 30D. In years past there have been, well, most significantly the 30D, but also a Diana last year, a Yashika Mat, a Lomo, Holgas, a wonderful cardboard pinhole, a stunning wooden Zero Pinhole, Lensbabies (digital and for Canon AE1), pinhole caps, and a series of gradually improving digital cameras up to the 30D. Christmas means cameras to me. And running shoes. The camera theme is aided by the fact that my father is an accomplished landscape/portrait photographer, and we like to geek out on the technical stuff when we get together. I haven't mentioned this much on the blog, but photography figures very prominently in my life, along with my printmaking. Anyway, just spent a quiet morning mooning over the Olympus XA, which I think will be my tiny, sharp little pocket companion. It tickles the same spot as those tiny little pet houses they make for girls. "Hello, Camera!"

Taking It All In: the Art That Hit

*At the “America Whistles” exhibit at the International Print Center of New York we got to revisit A Bestiary by Bradford Murrow. I had seen it before at the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco, but it was thrilling to see all the page spreads set around the room. In San Francisco you couldn’t touch the book. So you had to rely on the staff to turn the pages. I wish they’d come out with a facimile of this book. I can’t find that there is even a buyable copy of the text itself. Here is a quote I copied down. It is a beautiful read, which is excerpted further in the link below:

“The Pipestrel does not want to be tangled in your hair. . . hold him and know he is living being, precise as a scientist, shy as a hermit.”




Read some excerpts from A Bestiary at the bottom of this page: http://www.webdelsol.com/morrow/

*At the Whitney: Neither New nor Correct: New Work by Mark Bradford
The texture of Bradford’s pieces in this show is mesmerizing. Like looking at sculpture with a sanded gloss surface that reveals layers underneath. The pieces resemble topographical maps the way the sanding (through layers of paint and advertising strata pealed from wall and poles of L.A.) brings out hills and valleys. He also includes coils of string in relation to the paint and ripped up through the strata in some point in the process. Doug and I were there a long time trying to figure out at which point the string went in because they left a curly paint line where they were pulled up. It could also be described as looking the way certain bark does. . . or an unevenly sucked gobstopper. Gorgeous. Really makes me want to start attending to surface more in my own work-to paint-makes me want to sculpt, too. The best work to me makes me want to jump in, you know?

*MOMA
A show of some of my all time favorite etchings. My Pantheon. James Ensor, Kiki Smith, Picasso, William Kentridge. I was struck by how Minotauromachy had engraved lines-so much more going on than you can see in the reproductions. This is all almost too holy to me. I have the photos (close up) to study. Holy, holy, holy.

*American Folk Art Museum:

1. Gilded Lions And Jeweled Horses: The Synagogue To The Carousel
If you love folk art and works on paper you must see this. Most amazing to me were the paper cuts. Some were impossibly intricate. All were charming in their depictions. But that sounds I love when people who have little personal reference come up with their own ideas about the appearance of lions, say, or mythical creatures. Here are some pictures from the exhibition http://www.folkartmuseum.org/default.asp?id=1869

2. I was also reminded of Shaker “Gift Drawings” as they had some examples there. These were produced by a woman, I forgot her name, who made them during the “Era of Manifestations” or “Mother’s Work” There is a nice, brief article with pictures at:
http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/illustration_and_illumination/5117

3.Bessie Harvey-
Here is a sculptor. These things live. You wonder what would happen. What life we’d give to things given less noise. The world around us might animate a great deal more.
http://sunsite.utk.edu/bessie/tour1/bio14.html

4. There were animals of cut, twisted and bent tin cans, encrusted with baubles on one of the stair levels. Apparently they were bought recently around New York. They were very lovingly constructed of such humble materials. Exalted in the way of those Russian palaces made of candy wrappers. A shame to anyone ever stalled for lack of resources.

5. We also saw some Georgia Blizzard vessels accompanied with one of her poems:

“Shadows pull down the
curtain of time
perhaps its your sunset
or maybe its mine
“Corps,” “Corps” does the
Ravin call.
The Twilight Takes over.
It’s, all, Its all.” -Georgia Blizzard

I was so moved by her pieces. Really. I want more. You get the sense that these things are pumped with ju-ju. They are embodied.

Here is some background on her in an obituary written for The Independent (London), Jun 12, 2002 by Jonathan Williams.

“GEORGIA BLIZZARD was like that line in the poem by Rudyard Kipling: "A rag and a bone and a hank of hair . . ." She was so very frail in her struggle against a relentlessly hardscrabble life. . . [Georgia] hunkered down on her little front porch and looked at the figures she saw in the trees that spoke gently and only to her. . . [She] was part Apache, part Irish, and part William Blake. She had eight years of schooling in a country school. I doubt that she could ever read William Blake, but, no matter, they were on similar wavelengths. (I still don't know how her father, the Apache Indian, happened to make it from Arizona all the way to Smyth County, Virginia, some 2,500 miles to the east.) She was born in 1919 in Saltville, in Poor Valley, but her family moved to Plum Creek when she was a young child.

She and her sister, May, played along the creek and were fascinated by the "little chimneys" that the crawdads built with clay from the stream bottom. They made their own dolls and dishes and animals and other toys. They were too poor to have store-bought things. Later she learned to dig clay out of the banks and from the interior of a nearby limestone cave.”

A link about Georgia Blizzard:
http://detour.webdatabases.net/artist_detail.html?ArtistID=11420&ArtID=11420#images
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You've Gotta Love a Man. . .

. . . who makes himself ducky "Eggs in a Hole" for breakfast. Let me add, who makes himself ducky "Eggs in a Hole" for breakfast and then compiles a beautiful history of the dish. I am going to get him to put his research up here. Anyway, it is his birthday tomorrow-his fortieth. Cheers to you, my good, good man. I am so privileged to spent my life basking in the warmth of your soul. Shine on, shine on. Can you believe this beautiful life we've shared together already? What next? Shine on!

Feels Like Home to Me

Second Home on Second Avenue- (Lower East Side) We loved this place from the moment we stepped in. First, we arrived on a great old elevator with beautiful wooden details. This was the ideal place to stay for a number of reasons and worked beautifully for us with toddler in tow. It was well laid out in the main living area with a bright red sofa/futon, and dining table adjoining with the kitchenette. It all had a bright, contemporary feel with cheery collage pieces and metropolitan photos on canvas set about the place. There was ample space for Rider to zoom around. The bedroom in the back was done with soft, white linens and one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever slept in. And there was a TV opposite the bed, not in the main room, which was nice. If really felt as if we were staying in our own apartment. It had a well appointed kitchenette, so you could fix most anything you brought home, which for us was not elaborate. We spent every morning lingering over Dagwood bagels stuffed with ingredients we’d collected from around the city the days before. We were also able to make “ritual eggs” eggs for Rider, (so called because he asks for them daily but eats them only an eighth of the time. He’s got us over a barrel because he knows we’ll do anything to get him to eat.) The location was perfect for us, too. About where we’d want to live if (when?) we move to the city. It was close to Union Station and an easy walk to East/West Village, Greenwich. But we’re walkers. We spent most evenings walking around there for two or three hours after dinner. This apartment really was a huge part of our enjoyment of this vacation.

Some Food for Shots (Camera, that is.)

We went to a little outdoor street fair that extended from the Saturday market at Union Square Park and saw several really interesting artists, actually. Street art can be a real mixed bag, of course, but being New York there were a some really interesting people there: photographers and an illustrator and a political silk screen artist. Most particularly we were struck by the pinhole photographer, Michel Bayard. This video captures some of what it is that is captivating about the guy and his work: http://homepage.mac.com/trorb/BikeTV/iMovieTheater68.html
And here are a bunch of his images:
http://www.usefilm.com/photographer/29806.html

I told him I’ve been experimenting with pinholes for a number of years now, but with less obvious success than he. He eyed my Canon 30D accusatorily and said, “What’s that?” I said, “Well. . .” (Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, its been several months since my last pinhole.) I felt so dirty. And there he was, a John the Baptist of photography, carrying his whole shop around on his reconfigured bike, popping honeyed locusts in his mouth, muttering French-Canadian.

Josef Koudelka- Just starting to get to know this guy. I was drawn in.
http://www.masters-of-photography.com/K/koudelka/koudelka_articles1.html

Diane Arbus-what struck me looking at her prints is how they live in the dark a big “take that” on level correction in the digital dark room. Her work appears so dark and rich-I can’t help but wonder what the histograms would have looked like and if they were corrected in the computer, how they may have lost that twilight richness. Makes me really rethink what the computer tells me about exposure. Makes me rethink the computer.

August Sanders. Just struck to see his work in person. The portraits need to be seen that way, as though you just walked in the room (and became really tiny) and saw the person sitting or standing there.

Gertrude Kasebier
http://www.museumofnewmexico.org/mfa/ideaphotographic/artists_kasebier.html

http://www.metmuseum.org/TOAH/hd/pict/ho_33.43.132.htm

Gary Winogrand
http://www.masters-of-photography.com/W/winogrand/winogrand.html

Steiglitz portrait of O’Keefe Hands on a Horse Skull

Great stuff in Chelsey, but I forgot the names.

An (almost) perfect day in New York.

1. Wake up to bagels and all the fixin’s stocked up from the night before. Pumpernickle bagels from Eat. Red Onions. Tomatoes. Capers. Avocado. Smoked salmon (the non stringy kind).

2. Go to Heschker playground, Central park.
This is the water fortress, play castle fantasy dream of anyone, with any sliver of child left in them. I’m trying to find out more about the architect responsible for it, though from what I can gather, it took on its present incarnation in 1996. I have been dreaming about this kind of space (for us, mind you, for grown-ups, too) for years now, inspired by other physically involving spaces/structures from the Tactile Dome in San Francisco’s Exploratorium many years ago and Niki de Saint Phalle and Jean Tinguely’s fountain at Place Igor Stravinsky near the pompidou center in Paris, http://www.bluffton.edu/%7Esullivanm/pompfnt/pompfnt.html , to the Stone Forest in China. These places speak to your physicality. They are transformative in that make your physical self open out into other possibilities.

No, but yeah, I mean, it’s for the kids, but it has towers and slides and ramps and fountains and crawl-under parts and a whole network of water paths to walk through. How can it possibly be? It even had that irresistible, bouncy cork stuff that you just kinda want to trot around on. A barefooter’s heaven. And that’s not including the great little fenced toddler park with sand and gentle fountains coming from an inviting curved wall that all sit next to the fortress. And-it all backs up against a giant rock that you can access from atop the fortress-Cool! Rider had a great time, too.

3. To the Central Park carousel-
This is a giddy experience, like loping almost-really fast. There are cherubs hunting and killing rabbits at the top of the carousel. Don’t think you’d see that on a carousel designed today. Oddly dark and funny. Terrific sculpted pieces on the inside. Funny modern carousel interpretations of eighties music mixed in with the classics. Rider couldn’t stop gazing at the center. We each rode with him once than all rode together in the sled because Rider kept pointing at it and saying, “I wanna ride that one.”

4. Continue through the park, just showing the early signs of Autumn, to The Natural History Museum. See Mermaids and other Mythical Creatures exhibit. (Feegee mermaid!) See teeny tiny primate sculpture that looks like an teensy-weensy person. And the grandfather of all stags. A dinosaur Stag!

5. Walk out at closing in time to go to Maxilla and Mandible where despite the sign that prohibits strollers (mostly for crowded times, we find out, it is a cabinet of curiosities, not a Pottery Barn), the guy there is just wonderful, effusive even with our two year old. Turns out he was a science teacher for many years. Really knew his _____ O-Saurs. Buy a long wax block with teeth crowns in their proper mouth position from 1923. (Only $19)

6. Head out further west-not sure where you are going, just looking for two-year old friendly restaurant and hit H&H bagels (which we hadn’t gotten around to and I didn’t think we ever would) and-Zabars! I had completely forgotten about Zabars- I can’t even begin. They have the best everything-fish, cheese, breads, coffees, kitchen gadgets. This is my soul food. Better than any food stop in New York. If you want to eat New York up, this would be the place to do it. http://www.zabars.com/?gclid=CMK1jb39lo8CFRKzhgodgjs1Gg The H and H Bagels we got were great, particularly the poppy seed. What great, chewy texture, but they were out of Pumpernickel, my favorite. The best bagels we had there were from E.A.T., they were Pumpernickel. I wish I had bought more.

7. Figure out a fabulous two Toddlerific dinner solution. . .which we did not do. Dinner sucked. We never found a restaurant we felt could handle Rider (or visa-versa), so we ended up hunkered over a crowded counter at Whole Foods.

Let's Begin With Desert!

Sweets. Cupcakes. Ok, I’ve heard they were a thing. But I really got it in New York. How fun. Gave my heart glad hops to see them on platters around the city. So thrilled to have a two year old to buy them for so I could try a bite. (My neurosis.) We also got to experience Cones on Bleeker Street. I am also scared of eating ice-creamy things, but we saw Cones across the street from a very baby friendly sushi place (Sushi Mambo) we went to for dinner. Having a baby who eats very little, we are always on the lookout for unoccupied calories that might appeal to the two plus set, so we went over to check it out. It turns out to be a much lauded gelato place run by two Argentinian brothers. God, with good reason! Doug ordered Corn flavored (yep!) with cinnamon sprinkled on top, Mate, and Dulche de Leche. The following day he got the Pistacio, the Mate and Zabiglione. His favorite was the mate, I sampled them all and have to say, they each one counted as some of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth, the corn was a dream, my personal favorite. Really. Rider gives it two sticky, chocolatey thumbs up, too.


On our last day as we were heading from a very trippy sound/light installation at the Dream House, and walked through China Town into Nolita looking for dinner, but we decided to go desert first when I saw Pink Berry. I had read about Pink Berry. As a yogurt slave for many years, it gives me joy to live to taste the next generation. Now if only they’d come to Portland. . . or better yet we relocate there. Pink Berry is the best skinny bitch frozen treat out there. Gise, Tasti Delite they are token foods-you eat them because you can eat a big cup of anything frozen that calls itself double chocolate without all the fat and less sugar, and you’re glad for it. But Pink Berry has raised the bar. It has a much more yogurty taste than the cardboard yogurts that have been around for a while, and comes in two flavors: vanilla and green tea. I got the green tea. Oh, man. Cause that’s another thing-the diet frozen stuffs never have the newest You’ve got topping options, too. http://www.pinkberry.com/

Doug got a treat next door at Rice to riches-a rice pudding 31 Flavors, if you can believe it. He wasn’t wild about it, but the bite I had was delicious-takes rice pudding to the desert A list. And its got a mix of zany and hip design. I love the little plastic pods and paddles the rice puddings are served in. They’ve got flavors like Perfectly Legal Pecan Pie, "Category 5" Caramel and Chocolate Chip Flirt. Doug got the chocolate chip. Mmmmm.
http://www.ricetoriches.com/index.2.php

Our Apple

We just got back from our pilgrimage to New York. On some level I've always considered myself in exile from New York. We were flying high from the moment we got there until I started having dentist related panic attacks in the cab on the way back to Newark just over a week later. The next several posts will be about our trip: our favorite things, artists, poets and architects I want to know more about, baby friendly discoveries, shopping, and eats. My hope is to make the trip last longer this way, to deepen the impressions and just share some of what we found. We may try to move there. I left my heart there many, many years ago. . . sorry, San Francisco. But then, New York has been a love from afar-touched on every few years through the last couple of decades. I see myself at 13, at 18, 19, 23, 27, 31. . . and now again at 38. And I've never lost the feeling that it was my birthright to live there. We'll see.

A Dream

My husband and I walk out from a beautiful, curved beach up to our necks into the ocean. We lay back, floating, as a flock of sea ducks settle all around us. I feel very fortunate about this and tell Doug. I wrap my arms around them, stroke their curled tail feathers and look into their eyes for a while. Then we tuck back into the water like a comforter and watch the ducks ' feet churn above us as we drift off. We wake in the morning underwater to see the underwater part of a line of people making their way towards us in formation, arm's distance apart. They are feeling their way with their feet and legs, combing the sea for bodies. We surface and see many others beyond them towards the shore playing and surfing.

A Triumph of a Sandwich!

Tonight we watched the Sicilian episode of "No Reservations" with Antony Bourdain. Have you seen this show? Bourdain is a bad boy gourmand. It works. Kinda like Hans Solo had a travel/cooking show. . . and grew up in New York. He smokes and drinks with relish so we don’t have to. Anywho, a Sicilian he spoke with on the show said that they refer to a grand display of produce or fish as a “triumph”, as in, "Ah, here is a triumph of salmon" or "A triumph of artichokes, my good man, well done!" A triumph makes me think of Mr. Cratchit, forgive the ye olde tone. Better to think of a heap of goods towering in front of young Bacchus. More baroque, less Dickensey. . . yeah, but what about that spread around the feet of the Ghost of Christmas Present? I think of Edward Woodward in the George C. Scott Christmas Carol:

“Heaped up on the floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this couch, there sat a jolly Giant, glorious to see:, who bore a glowing torch, in shape not unlike Plenty's horn, and held it up, high up, to shed its light on Scrooge, as he came peeping round the door.”

'Come in.' exclaimed the Ghost. 'Come in. and know
me better, man.”

- A Christmas Carol

Have that in mind when thinking about the Portland Farmer’s Market. Now, it is not the same scale as the San Lorenzo Market in Florence, Italy, for example-nor is it in a coastal city with glorious fruits de mer arranged like many eyed seraphim overflowing the market tables, but it is full of the wealth that does abound in the land all around Portland. And it is always teeming with life: Romany inspired music, colorful shoes and legwear, exotic dogs or mutts in wagons, brilliant bags and bouquettes held up like torches to light the way through the early (and late) spring rains, children chasing pidgeons, political protesters enlisting the help of giant papier-mache heads or even ponies (Ponies for Peace, all this under the canopy of the grand trees of the South Park blocks. It is a beautiful thing. If you ever come here, I’d say you should see it as a priority. We have gathered the components of many gorgeous meals there since moving here just over a year ago, but last night, last night we pulled together (Now here’s where it all comes around. . .) Dum-Dum-ta-Dum! - a Triumph of a Sandwich! So we though we owed it to posterity to write down every last ingredient of this sandwich and some of the vendors who brought them to the market. This is by way of writing a love poem to the Portland Farmer’s Market.

Here goes-

The Bread:
Fressen Bakery Bier Brot (with unbleached white Flour, Amber Ale, Sourdough, Beer mash, Sea Salt) We toasted it on the grill.

On the Bread:
Guacamole
Balsamic Syrup from The Crabapple company (Oh my God on Sandwiches)
Dulcet Madras Curry Mustard (of Dulcet Cuisine) OK-this mustard can make a sandwich an event.

The Meat:
1. (For Doug) Grilled Beefalo Burger from Pine Mountain Ranch. They specialize in grass fed buffalo meat; (You must talk with the passionate owner Alan Rousseau.) Though I am a vegetarian, I am thankful to have a meat loving husband and dog who are thrilled to try his wares, if only to hear him describe his products with tremendous pride. Read about him at http://pmrbuffalo.com/about.html Bahjah, our Saluki, had a catnip like reaction to yesterday's feast of (get this) Tibetan yak liver. She also lives for his raw buffalo bones and her teeth look so white for it.

2. (For me) Grilled Gardenburger Portobello mushroom burger. (Though you may scoff, the earthy mushroom taste was great with the bierbrot.)

The Fixins:
Heirloom Tomatoes
carmelized onions (White and red)
sliced red onions and lemon basil (on Doug's)
Fresh Sage leaves (on Mine)




The Sides:
1. Steamed Italian Kale and Collard Greens with Garlic, sprinked with Seaweed Gomasio (Seaweed, Sesame Seeds and Salt)
2. Oh, and a side of pimientos de padrón cooked in olive oil with course salt (Gray sea salt from ile de Re, France). These are amazing snacking peppers from Padrón, Galicia in Spain grown by Viridian Farms. A highlight of the meal despite its location here. Check out this link Doug found on the peppers-Hey, Mom, you can get them mail ordered! http:www.chowhound.com/topics/16095

And order them from these folks- http://www.tienda.com/food/products/vg-09.html?rlid=search&HBDCMP=IL-TSugSearch


Try it all with this Portugese red, Quinta de Bons-Ventos out of the Estremadura region - it zinged with the sandwich and was low cost to boot. Buon appetito!

Crafts-the Primrose Path

Things have been so slow in the studio. I am not being a wimp. I have spent a couple of years on these several plates-I can't begin to count the hours spent burnishing. So I'm trying to find some life. Learning how to do new stuff is so enticing to me, so the craftsphere out there has been really belting out a siren's call. I've dedicated some time to learning cement sculpture and soldered jewelry-and I've been woodburning on a chair for my son. . . but I feel so guilty. I know I should be working on my etchings-especially when our sitter comes so that I can work. But here is my life long problem. I get mired in what I'm doing at a certain point of whatever I am doing, and just get lost and confused-bound upside down and blindfolded in a gorgion knot.

And having a two year old is a part of it.

But I am so lost at this point-so confused about all the threads of ideas sticking up in various stages of completion, that I swear yesterday I had a fantasy about taking the baby and the dog and setting the whole house on fire.

So why was I in a yarn shop recently looking at books on felting and loom knitting? Not to knock either-cause obviously I think they are cool, but they are nowhere on my life list (as if I had one as such). Maybe because they aren't. And maybe because life just happens to offer so much and you want yours to be a life chock full of the genious of knowing and following your curiosities. When I was young I glowed in the pleasure of discovering what all I could do. But now is the time for deeper mastery. Maybe. But I feel like I'm in deep purgatory. I honestly don't know.

I do have friend, Laurent, who is into everything-music, photography, comics, ceramics, gardening, glass blowing and most recently-lock picking! He told us about this on a recent visit. Showed us YouTube videos of people doing it and everything. They popped locks open like bracelet clasps. They do it for fun and have practice locks and elaborate kits. I love that people do this.

I love that people keep chickens and bees and owls. That they espalier fruit trees and build stone walls and teach dogs to dance like my mother does. I want to do these things, too, but is there time? I know to a degree I am choosing how to spend my alotted time here on earth- and there is less in many ways for what I've already chosen each time I embark on something new. . .And I know the real spiritual challenge is to find that same energy, the energy of grasping the new thing, in your chosen avocation or two. See, I want a magic opening to come in my work-like a recurring dream I have of inexplicably coming upon massive undiscovered wings my house filled with treasures. The feeling in these dreams are a welling up of joy and relief that it was all there all along-but had and held, in this house.