http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/300162
...learn to live creatively with less consumption...learn to value life by different markers... no more subsidies for monocrops... U.S. oil peaked in 2000... need federal support for local foods networks.... growth has occurred for 100 years on the back of petroleum, it is a finite resource, and now we're struggling to get it... wealth disparity contributes to the problem... three indicators before a period of famine:...
Friday, November 26, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
debunking misinformation about oil
Robert Rapier who writes the R squared energy blog pointed out this article in the Huff Post.
yes, I'm back. it was wonderful. What a treat to meet and spend so much time with various artists- Dustin and Nim, their friends in the various places, my friends old and new in Berlin and London- truly the way to travel. No, I didn't see buckingham palace, but I did have a lovely conversation nearby with my friend in a crazy posh apartment with animal heads. No I didn't see the shards of the berlin wall, I had dessert and wine with three artists and a chef, comparing cultures, histories, politics, passions. I walked through a vibrant art quarter in London with a fashion designer, eating bagles and spotted a small parade of loveliness including a well-known queen in a full-length pink feather cape. and caught a cold from sharing so many spliffs. oh well.
so I'm on facebook, and photos are there. I see facebook as a necessary evil to keeping up with certain friends in a more consistent, less focussed way. I really don't like their privacy policies. I look forward to using the decentralized network that Nim's friend Max Ogden is writing. No monolith.
The day after returning, I tore the kitchen apart. Mama bought me a new energy star refrigerator and a proper range-top to replace the 1950's beast of a free fridge and gutless hotplate that I've been using. With the construction of a shed this year, the bisque kiln is now out of the single room in which I work and also live (hooray!), and that corner is being claimed as a kitchen. I will now have the facility to cook for more than two people, so I look forward to hosting dinner parties like I've so enjoyed in the past.. ( the most recent one was three years ago in which I made french onion soup which took all day on the hotplate, and then used the bisque kiln to broil the cheeze on top- )
happy thanksgiving, all! truly, it is a generous world. (if you don't ask for too much)
yes, I'm back. it was wonderful. What a treat to meet and spend so much time with various artists- Dustin and Nim, their friends in the various places, my friends old and new in Berlin and London- truly the way to travel. No, I didn't see buckingham palace, but I did have a lovely conversation nearby with my friend in a crazy posh apartment with animal heads. No I didn't see the shards of the berlin wall, I had dessert and wine with three artists and a chef, comparing cultures, histories, politics, passions. I walked through a vibrant art quarter in London with a fashion designer, eating bagles and spotted a small parade of loveliness including a well-known queen in a full-length pink feather cape. and caught a cold from sharing so many spliffs. oh well.
so I'm on facebook, and photos are there. I see facebook as a necessary evil to keeping up with certain friends in a more consistent, less focussed way. I really don't like their privacy policies. I look forward to using the decentralized network that Nim's friend Max Ogden is writing. No monolith.
The day after returning, I tore the kitchen apart. Mama bought me a new energy star refrigerator and a proper range-top to replace the 1950's beast of a free fridge and gutless hotplate that I've been using. With the construction of a shed this year, the bisque kiln is now out of the single room in which I work and also live (hooray!), and that corner is being claimed as a kitchen. I will now have the facility to cook for more than two people, so I look forward to hosting dinner parties like I've so enjoyed in the past.. ( the most recent one was three years ago in which I made french onion soup which took all day on the hotplate, and then used the bisque kiln to broil the cheeze on top- )
happy thanksgiving, all! truly, it is a generous world. (if you don't ask for too much)
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Berlin with Dustin and Nim
I am feeling porous- a favorite feeling. a challenge, in which I know that I am stretching out of my skin. that my mind is moving and maybe parts are hurting a little. Today was Research Club's Brunch in Berlin. at first it was only us and our hosts and one student from an art school. But it seems the relaxed pace of the venue Gartenstudio carried through in its perfect way- most people arrived "late", others came and went multiple times, some people who didn't know what we were about until last night presented their work spontaneously. One couple (or collaborators) arrived "at the end" with four-page copies of her project descriptions (in german) and proceeded to wow us with their work. We have done what we could to plan and invite and generate energy around the event and then what do you do when most of the speakers you hoped for don't show up and it seems it "isn't working right"? Nim has a watery look about him sometimes- you can see he is in a semi-liminal state. throw a cat at him and he wouldn't be perturbed- he would laugh, joke, defer, question, reference some chinese parable or web project and say hey, check out so and so, and the show goes on... as I said at the beginning of my presentation (also spontaneous), I am continually energized by these meetings. This one was no different. cattywumpus yes, and completely great nonetheless. here is a link for the research club blog post about it. that post has embedded links to all the speakers as well as a summary (and links) of the interviews that Nim has done with Dustin recording, for their research in a feature within Proximity Magazine.
so the speakers! were: Per Schullman, with whom we spent a very pleasant evening last night too at Dustin's Grand Detour screening of Portland area experimental film. He is one of those for whom Dustin adds a "f*$#ing" in front of "awesome"- he designs and has built these excellent cabinets of salvaged drawers restored into a new casing, and will soon be constructing a moving cart (in Istambul) that will unfold into a banquet table into which will be integrated a cookstove and oven, tiny kitchen. He has a little gallery in Hamburg where art and community events happen. He visited Gallery Homeland in Portland and has been involved in the happenings at GartenStudio, which has been our home for these days. We have also enjoyed the company of Malta who gives Gartenstudio its life and character- he is involved in many art projects and teaches flamenco. passionate music and the smoke of hand-rolled cigarettes fills the kitchen.
I presented my short story, Nim had it on file from earlier this year, thank goodness because my friend Madeline didn't make it- mistook the day. but I presented in her stead, and what fun too.. to see people's eyes light up. Mine certainly did when a beautiful french woman stood up a bit later for the first of several spontaneous presentations- with her little girl tugging on her skirt and her equally interesting filmmaker husband coming and going, she described for us that she is a conductor and has created two situations in new york and London in which a painter, the orchestra, herself and a composer created a whole new experience in which a piece was vocalized for one hour but people came and went as they pleased, and the painter made his work impromptu (word?). The next was a neighbor, Stephan. He shared a short promotional video he made for a small vacation place in Italy that welcomes people with special needs. something that will not be advertised with all of that attendant cost and commercial consideration, but shared with friends to generate interest and information about this otherwise unassuming location. Nim also shared for the newcomers that kept dropping in what Research Club is all about. I think he had three opportunities to do so, all of them appreciated, as brunch extended well into five or six pm, I think, with all the coming and going..
And then a classy and quirky couple arrived and soon began to share their delightful creations. From birdhouses to squiggly installations of telephone cord to rocketships under mirrored ceilings, topped off with an animation involving the merging of the yin yang and -was it Goethe?- to create cam shapes and eggs, Maria and her partner Martin opened a little window into her imagination that tickled her lips and quivered her eyebrows.
so the speakers! were: Per Schullman, with whom we spent a very pleasant evening last night too at Dustin's Grand Detour screening of Portland area experimental film. He is one of those for whom Dustin adds a "f*$#ing" in front of "awesome"- he designs and has built these excellent cabinets of salvaged drawers restored into a new casing, and will soon be constructing a moving cart (in Istambul) that will unfold into a banquet table into which will be integrated a cookstove and oven, tiny kitchen. He has a little gallery in Hamburg where art and community events happen. He visited Gallery Homeland in Portland and has been involved in the happenings at GartenStudio, which has been our home for these days. We have also enjoyed the company of Malta who gives Gartenstudio its life and character- he is involved in many art projects and teaches flamenco. passionate music and the smoke of hand-rolled cigarettes fills the kitchen.
I presented my short story, Nim had it on file from earlier this year, thank goodness because my friend Madeline didn't make it- mistook the day. but I presented in her stead, and what fun too.. to see people's eyes light up. Mine certainly did when a beautiful french woman stood up a bit later for the first of several spontaneous presentations- with her little girl tugging on her skirt and her equally interesting filmmaker husband coming and going, she described for us that she is a conductor and has created two situations in new york and London in which a painter, the orchestra, herself and a composer created a whole new experience in which a piece was vocalized for one hour but people came and went as they pleased, and the painter made his work impromptu (word?). The next was a neighbor, Stephan. He shared a short promotional video he made for a small vacation place in Italy that welcomes people with special needs. something that will not be advertised with all of that attendant cost and commercial consideration, but shared with friends to generate interest and information about this otherwise unassuming location. Nim also shared for the newcomers that kept dropping in what Research Club is all about. I think he had three opportunities to do so, all of them appreciated, as brunch extended well into five or six pm, I think, with all the coming and going..
And then a classy and quirky couple arrived and soon began to share their delightful creations. From birdhouses to squiggly installations of telephone cord to rocketships under mirrored ceilings, topped off with an animation involving the merging of the yin yang and -was it Goethe?- to create cam shapes and eggs, Maria and her partner Martin opened a little window into her imagination that tickled her lips and quivered her eyebrows.
... the next day I went to the contemporary art museum and caught up with Madeline, and after a little time with her alone, we went to her friend's house for wine and desserts- quickly falling into my favorite conversation topics- art, social justice, history, how certain systems work, and food! I'm at home...
...now we're in London, at the loft of some of Nim's friends from Glasgow art school- it is exactly as you might imagine- a slightly cold big brick building that has been modified over the years to accomodate living quarters- simple but sturdy interior stud walls splitting some spaces into tiny sleeping lofts, a laundry line connected to a pully so it can be raised up to the tall ceiling, and of course the flotsam of artmaking everywhere- fake fruit, sixties postcards, photographs of textures, books on books on piles and shelves of books, twisted bike parts, flags and plants and a fireplace painted on the wall one evening that someone was cold.
Friday, October 15, 2010
rip Hermann Scheer
just as this potter on alt fuel is headed to Germany, here is today's interview on DNow! ...
he says in the next ten years or so, one hundred cities and provinces in Germany are instituting systems that will have them on 100%! renewable energy sources. I must listen again to understand the mechanisms of policymaking that managed to subvert the corporate energy powers in Germany, but somehow it is now clear to the people (75-80% statistics) that they can and have voted for an entirely new paradigm of energy policy. it involves a restructuring of investment opportunity. *** With this paradigm shift is also one of ethical policy that is supportive of developing countries on an economic level*** and should America finally take note, we could move away from our poisonous relationship with Saudi Arabia. mutual enablers. get off the sauce!
you better believe I will be asking people about this when I get to Berlin.
and hey hey, here's Research Club in the Wweek! it took us a second to figure out how they ended up with boy George's head on a toilet...
he says in the next ten years or so, one hundred cities and provinces in Germany are instituting systems that will have them on 100%! renewable energy sources. I must listen again to understand the mechanisms of policymaking that managed to subvert the corporate energy powers in Germany, but somehow it is now clear to the people (75-80% statistics) that they can and have voted for an entirely new paradigm of energy policy. it involves a restructuring of investment opportunity. *** With this paradigm shift is also one of ethical policy that is supportive of developing countries on an economic level*** and should America finally take note, we could move away from our poisonous relationship with Saudi Arabia. mutual enablers. get off the sauce!
you better believe I will be asking people about this when I get to Berlin.
and hey hey, here's Research Club in the Wweek! it took us a second to figure out how they ended up with boy George's head on a toilet...
Thursday, October 7, 2010
a blogger riffs on the art critic
Bob Hicks send me his link: http://www.artscatter.com/general/open-studios-see-rare-artistus-americanus-in-its-native-habitat/ --- a lovely way to flesh out (and gently shift the record on) that tricky aspect of what proportion of our artists have gallery representation.
oh, I am just in a fit of delight! The press that I've been scrabbling for this year is all being printed this week- here's another in the same paper that featured me last month (a story organized by the pr dept at Art in the Pearl). Here's one in an independant paper that goes to my quarter of town. I wrote one for the NE quarter (they couldn't afford a professional writer), but they aren't online. apparently they liked it so well that they put it on the front page.
and that's all i have time to say- I've already gotten a late start, since i was so enjoying hanging out with two dear men at Biwa's last night. potters, and foodies, both of whom want to be on my firing crew- ya! love it! what a relief to have people excited to help fire and put pots in the Tin Man-
oh, I am just in a fit of delight! The press that I've been scrabbling for this year is all being printed this week- here's another in the same paper that featured me last month (a story organized by the pr dept at Art in the Pearl). Here's one in an independant paper that goes to my quarter of town. I wrote one for the NE quarter (they couldn't afford a professional writer), but they aren't online. apparently they liked it so well that they put it on the front page.
and that's all i have time to say- I've already gotten a late start, since i was so enjoying hanging out with two dear men at Biwa's last night. potters, and foodies, both of whom want to be on my firing crew- ya! love it! what a relief to have people excited to help fire and put pots in the Tin Man-
Saturday, October 2, 2010
the art critic writes about Portland Open Studios
Our local art critic for the big paper wrote about us. It's a tricky truth. and not completely true, because many of the member artists are quite successful. But then, they don't always participate year after year. So, it's true- he called us out- we are working artists doing what no-one else is doing for us.
And apparently we're kicking tail this year! One week till go time, and sales of the tour guide are higher than expected. Typically we sell the most this upcoming week, of course, as all the ads are printed and the articles published right about now. Other than the unexpected gift from the critic, there is another article in the Oregonian, and two that I can link to here, plus one in every little paper I could find. ads on the air of a popular radio station that decided to sponsor us- sweet!- and maybe some bloggers will announce us too. It's all very exciting for me to see tangibly the results of my hard work this year. We'll see what happens when the good people arrive at the carriage house doors...
And apparently we're kicking tail this year! One week till go time, and sales of the tour guide are higher than expected. Typically we sell the most this upcoming week, of course, as all the ads are printed and the articles published right about now. Other than the unexpected gift from the critic, there is another article in the Oregonian, and two that I can link to here, plus one in every little paper I could find. ads on the air of a popular radio station that decided to sponsor us- sweet!- and maybe some bloggers will announce us too. It's all very exciting for me to see tangibly the results of my hard work this year. We'll see what happens when the good people arrive at the carriage house doors...
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
keep walking
I was recently poked by two people who read this blog- Hi Gail hi Larry!- they and presumably a few others are wondering why my web journal has become hushed. In short, I am busy, more busy that I've been since the last year of grad school, but that it slowly tapering off, and I have that emerging from a tunnel feeling. In length, I am so immersed in the expansion of my place as a maker in this town and in the world in general, that I can hardly analyze it in real time. As a maker, I started this blog to document information about my innovative firing process, and that info is condensed on the new website. As a person, I started it to put on the sunglasses and face the glare of an unavoidably public life. And there's the rub- if I had time to write, I would at this time not have certainty about how to fully address questions about my making in the public sphere. I am a spokesperson for a small arts organization. In one mild form or another, I represent one hundred people. I control my communication, which means some of the juicy bits get left out. ahhh, better for you to ask in person! and fortunately the press is more topical at this early stage of my career. Here is an article written about me in a small but widely circulated paper. This piece was organized by the PR department of Art in the Pearl, the big high-end art fair for which I busted my butt this year. I felt great about my work and its presentation, I did not suffer a loss, but this alone will not be the studio's big annual paycheck (assuming I get in next year). Keep Walking...
So the light is visible at the end of the tunnel. I now have an idea of how to deal with this beast known as the Press. And I have a greater person to person confidence when networking in advocacy of my organization and by practiced extension, of myself. It has been one of many ways the I am learning to shed a burden. So the question now is this- who cares? a few care- that's great. As I learn about the mechanisms of social networking, I learn the ether-version of what we know so well in real life- to make friends you must seek their story, and ask questions. I think one of the other major reasons why I have let this blog fall silent is that there is so much interesting activity in Portland right now, I'd rather be out exploring than home (still!) on the computer (still!) making equally meaningful but er, mediated connections with other bloggers- I can find, I can read, and I can comment and make friends. And lord knows I desperately need to connect with fellow potters around the world. That is an aspect of staying current in my field that I consistently neglect, to my detriment. boo! maybe come winter, I'll catch up on new yorkers and all my contemporaries....
for the moment, I thoroughly enjoy time at Research Club events. I put a link to Nim (the chef) explaining what RC is all about in a previous post. Timing is such that the day after Portland Open Studios is over, he and Dustin who runs Grand Detour (indy film) are flying to Glasgow. then on to Berlin, London, and returning to Scotland. As my friendship with them has grown, and my need for a vacation, I asked to come along, and they said please! so I'm going on the Heavy Meta tour them on Oct 18. press release below. I'm going to see my friend Madeline Stillwell in Berlin. and I am researching potters who work with alternative fuels in these locations... if anyone out there knows any, please let me know.. SO, big exciting break on the horizon. blogging will continue. promise.
Here's the one page pdf of the tour press release
HERE'S THE KICKSTARTER VIDEO THAT DUSTIN PUT TOGETHER.
does everyone know about kickstarter? it's a great way to reach a wide audience of supporters for new projects. The Blue Cranes are going on tour by train in part because of the help they got from their kickstarter..
lots of love- C
So the light is visible at the end of the tunnel. I now have an idea of how to deal with this beast known as the Press. And I have a greater person to person confidence when networking in advocacy of my organization and by practiced extension, of myself. It has been one of many ways the I am learning to shed a burden. So the question now is this- who cares? a few care- that's great. As I learn about the mechanisms of social networking, I learn the ether-version of what we know so well in real life- to make friends you must seek their story, and ask questions. I think one of the other major reasons why I have let this blog fall silent is that there is so much interesting activity in Portland right now, I'd rather be out exploring than home (still!) on the computer (still!) making equally meaningful but er, mediated connections with other bloggers- I can find, I can read, and I can comment and make friends. And lord knows I desperately need to connect with fellow potters around the world. That is an aspect of staying current in my field that I consistently neglect, to my detriment. boo! maybe come winter, I'll catch up on new yorkers and all my contemporaries....
for the moment, I thoroughly enjoy time at Research Club events. I put a link to Nim (the chef) explaining what RC is all about in a previous post. Timing is such that the day after Portland Open Studios is over, he and Dustin who runs Grand Detour (indy film) are flying to Glasgow. then on to Berlin, London, and returning to Scotland. As my friendship with them has grown, and my need for a vacation, I asked to come along, and they said please! so I'm going on the Heavy Meta tour them on Oct 18. press release below. I'm going to see my friend Madeline Stillwell in Berlin. and I am researching potters who work with alternative fuels in these locations... if anyone out there knows any, please let me know.. SO, big exciting break on the horizon. blogging will continue. promise.
Here's the one page pdf of the tour press release
HERE'S THE KICKSTARTER VIDEO THAT DUSTIN PUT TOGETHER.
does everyone know about kickstarter? it's a great way to reach a wide audience of supporters for new projects. The Blue Cranes are going on tour by train in part because of the help they got from their kickstarter..
lots of love- C
Thursday, July 15, 2010
I closed the computer, but it's open again
It is 10 pm on another luscious summer evening, and my friend's birthday. I am not downtown carousing with him and the wily company that he keeps because- I'm being good.. I'm trying, still, to get on my own two feet when it comes to money- why does this matter to me?
even if I were capable of finding a well-paying job in this town doing something I don't love, I'd have a hard time accepting it. so I took a poorly paying job doing something I don't really love.
But it's an important job, for me and for others. It serves the growth of a small arts organization that I believe in, one that has at its core the generosity of spirit that comes with opening a facet of one's intimate creative life in order to educate and facilitate excitement in others. that's huge. it's the mundanety of working with this ether-box that I find so draining. oh, sure, I'm writing sometimes, I'm researching interesting people sometimes, but really, it's an office job. it's not a shitty office job and it's not a jailhouse 9 to 5, but I stare at this plastic screen for hours and days on end, organizing. when I reach a stopping point, the last thing I want to do is work on my website
the time-suck PDXOS job is balanced nicely by teaching a single-credit workshop at a community college once a term. I did the math. I make about twenty-five times as much teaching as I do for Portland Open Studios. Between these two situations plus maybe some income from Art in the Pearl, if I weren't paying a premium for health insurance, I might be able to be independent this year. But I have no time to make pots. But I wouldn't be able to continue the home improvements. and no motorcycle. and no crazy vacations in South Africa for a month. even if it is on Pop's dime- its too much time away from the studio. In short, I am, as usual, straddling, uncomfortably, my ability to access someone else's money, and my privilege- guilt driven desire to be just me. On my own "merit"? someone I love dearly says he wants to "make something of his life" beyond the lucrative but lonely career in which he finds himself. He wants to make a family. I want to make "a living". what an absurd name for the acquisition of money- a living? that's not living. that's making money. I don't want to "make" money- what a waste of time- I want to make pots. which is more useful? you tell me! which, I ask you, is more conducive to living the good life? bah! (and no, I don't want to make babies, though I hope my friend does someday..)
in other news, we had a great firing, number six. the first time that I've felt confident enough about the result to charge for space in the kiln. Mostly Richard's work, but I finally worked the glitches out of an easily reproducible oval plate. and a brand new design for an flared bowl! very very exciting.. someday soon, the website will be up, with images.. I actually have a deadline now, because it's printed in 3500 tour guides for Portland Open Studios, which will be available to the public on July 23rd. eek!
even if I were capable of finding a well-paying job in this town doing something I don't love, I'd have a hard time accepting it. so I took a poorly paying job doing something I don't really love.
But it's an important job, for me and for others. It serves the growth of a small arts organization that I believe in, one that has at its core the generosity of spirit that comes with opening a facet of one's intimate creative life in order to educate and facilitate excitement in others. that's huge. it's the mundanety of working with this ether-box that I find so draining. oh, sure, I'm writing sometimes, I'm researching interesting people sometimes, but really, it's an office job. it's not a shitty office job and it's not a jailhouse 9 to 5, but I stare at this plastic screen for hours and days on end, organizing. when I reach a stopping point, the last thing I want to do is work on my website
the time-suck PDXOS job is balanced nicely by teaching a single-credit workshop at a community college once a term. I did the math. I make about twenty-five times as much teaching as I do for Portland Open Studios. Between these two situations plus maybe some income from Art in the Pearl, if I weren't paying a premium for health insurance, I might be able to be independent this year. But I have no time to make pots. But I wouldn't be able to continue the home improvements. and no motorcycle. and no crazy vacations in South Africa for a month. even if it is on Pop's dime- its too much time away from the studio. In short, I am, as usual, straddling, uncomfortably, my ability to access someone else's money, and my privilege- guilt driven desire to be just me. On my own "merit"? someone I love dearly says he wants to "make something of his life" beyond the lucrative but lonely career in which he finds himself. He wants to make a family. I want to make "a living". what an absurd name for the acquisition of money- a living? that's not living. that's making money. I don't want to "make" money- what a waste of time- I want to make pots. which is more useful? you tell me! which, I ask you, is more conducive to living the good life? bah! (and no, I don't want to make babies, though I hope my friend does someday..)
in other news, we had a great firing, number six. the first time that I've felt confident enough about the result to charge for space in the kiln. Mostly Richard's work, but I finally worked the glitches out of an easily reproducible oval plate. and a brand new design for an flared bowl! very very exciting.. someday soon, the website will be up, with images.. I actually have a deadline now, because it's printed in 3500 tour guides for Portland Open Studios, which will be available to the public on July 23rd. eek!
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Research Club
Wow, this year.... seems like a scramble of tending to the next highest priority. I let one low-priority item jump to the top of the list last week and restored a rocking chair about three times older than me, but now it's back to dj-ing. I spent the last two days at the Research Club constructing a few white walls suitable for showing art, and now I need to get some more content uploaded to the website. But I wanted to share about RC and include this recording of Nim explaining a bit about the history and future...
Monday, May 24, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
current events
are occasionally overwhelming for this little lady with hermetic tendencies. This year I am focussed on connecting as a professional with the wide world of possibility. Portland is full of good food, great ideas, wildly creative people, and no money. That kind of works with my m.o. I'm working towards insinuating my work into cafe settings- and I got into Art in the Pearl, a high-end affair, so we'll see just how much money there isn't on Labor Day weekend.
I spent the first few months of this year in the tumble of a new job, new lovers, new friends, teaching, and making sculpture. My old friend Richard and I filled the Tin Man with our work two weeks ago, and were joined this round by Lauren, a new friend from NYC. Lauren and I have become fast friends, and I hope that she will continue to join us. With the completion (and yes, success) of the firing, I feel more settled, and eager to return to functional work.
In a week or two, I will be ready to present the new website Tim and I have been working on- long-awaited for me... hard to put together a confident website before I have a high-quality "product", as Pop refers to my pots. It was only last year that we got the kiln figured out.
so much- it is exciting! and I am stretched.
I spent the first few months of this year in the tumble of a new job, new lovers, new friends, teaching, and making sculpture. My old friend Richard and I filled the Tin Man with our work two weeks ago, and were joined this round by Lauren, a new friend from NYC. Lauren and I have become fast friends, and I hope that she will continue to join us. With the completion (and yes, success) of the firing, I feel more settled, and eager to return to functional work.
In a week or two, I will be ready to present the new website Tim and I have been working on- long-awaited for me... hard to put together a confident website before I have a high-quality "product", as Pop refers to my pots. It was only last year that we got the kiln figured out.
so much- it is exciting! and I am stretched.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
political bodymod
this interview starts interesting and gets better- he ends up talking about one of his other projects in which he hacked a video game created by the us military to illustrate his point.
here's a link to the current event- the server is overloaded at the moment
here's a link to the current event- the server is overloaded at the moment
Monday, March 1, 2010
I'm now PR for Portland Open Studios, this is my first project
Press Release from the city on the wire!
Thank you Careen for all your help on our press release and this one!!
Cheers,
Kindra
Thank you Careen for all your help on our press release and this one!!
Cheers,
Kindra
| City of | Sam Adams, Mayor Twitter: @mayorsamadams www.mayorsamadams.com | |
| PORTLAND, OREGON | ||
| Office of Mayor Sam Adams |
March 1, 2010
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
CONTACT:
Mayor Sam Adams, Portland Arts Community to Celebrate 10 Years of Portland Open Studios
Portland, Ore. -- For two weekends every year, "Portland Open Studios Tour" artists in the Portland metropolitan area open their studios to the public. This Thursday, March 4, Mayor Sam Adams and Portland Open Studios will be hosting a City Hall reception and ceremony to celebrate the ten-year anniversary of Portland Open Studios.
"The arts in Portland help define and differentiate Portland as an energetic and creative community," said Mayor Adams. "Helping artists make their work accessible to the public and helping the public understand the value of professional artists benefits us all."
To commemorate the milestone, Mayor Adams will read a proclamation recognizing Portland Open Studios' commitment to providing art education to all members of our community, adults and children alike, and for its dedicated support of local working artists. Portland Open Studios will unveil the organization's 10th Anniversary Purchase Prize gift to the City of Portland.
"In the past 10 years, over 500 artists have participated in Portland Open Studios, sharing the act of art making with thousands of visitors from around the block and across the country," said Kelly Neidig, President of Portland Open Studios. "We could not have remained self-sufficient for ten years without the individuals and business who support us and local artists by buying our Tour Guide and taking the tour. This celebration is for our volunteers, our neighbors and for everyone who has supported us."
Portland Open Studios supports local artists and also provides an art education experience; visitors can watch artists at work in 100 studios around Portland during the second and third weekends in October. In 2009, for the tenth year anniversary, an exciting mentorship program was introduced, connecting art students in the public high schools with participating artists. More than 20 artists on the tour mentored 45 students, giving them an inside view of their studios and business practices. These young apprentices could become the future creative capital of Portland.
"Portland Open Studios was truly a springboard for me as an artist because others took notice of my work that may not have before then," said Chris Haberman, 2008 Portland Open Studios artist. "It helped me get on OPB's Oregon Art Beat and into the next phase of my career."
The City Hall reception also kicks off a special month-long City Hall Exhibition, The 10 x 10 Show, which features works of art by over 80 artists in the 2009 Portland Open Studios tour. The event is free and open to the public. Artwork is for sale with 20 percent going to the Kimberly Gales Scholarship fund for young artists.
Visitors can enjoy music, refreshments, and this rare opportunity to see an array of art by Portland Open Studios' artists. Refreshments are being generously provided by Storyteller Wine, Full Sail Brewing Co, and Artemis Foods. Music entertainment includes Jim Boydston, Daryl Davis, and Steve Remington of Manzanita.
To learn more, contact Pollyanne Birge with the Office of Mayor Adams at 503-823-4182, or visit www.portlandopenstudios.com.
###
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
mike singing about lions and dragons
I have to record a few of my neighbor's stories this afternoon, because he was a mercenary in Angola in the late seventies (civil war) and we talked about big cats for a few hours. spring is here- a little early- the plants know best. after teaching in the morning, I change into shorts and rescue a few huge clumps of daffodils from said neighbor's encroaching ivy. A few years ago, a motley crew of middle- aged men moved across the street, replacing some person who had loved the yard enough to trim the rose bushes, shape the cherry tree, and plant a few daffodils that gradually became an explosion of yellow every spring. Now they are obscured by a rotting boat with a shredded tarp, and I intend to rescue some of them.
so, Mike is of Sarmatian blood, and he never lets you forget it- he has a tattoo of the Goddesse with a bow and arrow on his pectoral, and his vision of heaven is a "golden meadow" and no reason for war. He watches the history channel incessantly, or maybe his stories all rush out of him when a friend comes around, but in a tumble that I rarely follow for various reasons. That the sarmatians were the original Amazons I've grasped by now, along with their adherence to the principal that no matter how bad it gets to be the underdog, do NOT fight dirty. his mother was an assassin in the spanish civil war and was taken out by Franco. His wife and he both worked in Africa protecting a zinc mine, dodging machine gun fire and screaming airplanes - she eventually was hit by a drunk here in portland, and he just, oh, he misses her so much.... he went to church on valentine's day and could not stand with her -
Mike told me about cats this time (after telling me a kid's story involving a wounded and generous dragon). He asserts that cheetahs are as dumb as rocks but they make great watch-dogs in the small towns because what you really have to watch out for are the hyenas, and the cheetahs make all sorts of noise when they come around. as watch-dogs, they were not domesticated, but maybe sometimes their cubs would be given a safe place in a closet. but one time, Mom was out chasing an antelope or some large critter, and just as the cheetah (which he says has a special claw that they use as a hook to snag the back leg in a certain way) was about to get it, it made a sharp turn, so the cheetah ran smack into it. antelope goes tumbling, at sixtywhatever miles per hour, catches its horn on something and gets a broken neck. cheetah was discovered with a bloody nose, knocked cold. but she's the mom, and her cubs are in the closet, so she was rescued. but the hyenas had come, so the rescuers ran, with mom, back to the village just in time to close the gate and Mike says one of the hyenas was still running at them and slammed his head into the gate.
that was good, but this one was better: as guards, they have a short list of friend and foe, in a handbook of sorts. one time they had identified foe but were far from shelter. under the trees was a pride of lions. I love this- all about the attitude, they saunter over to the trees, hiding the guns, pretty much acting like they have as much right to be there as anyone else. the lionesses shuffle over, instructing the cubs to make space. The lion, however, grumbles and carries on. The lionesses grumble back at him. Soon afterward, a truck with a mounted machine gun cruises by, never noticing the bipeds among the other beasts.
the one with the dragon was a parable: it is said that dragons do not care to be disturbed, and that they are greedy. But once upon a time, there was a group of friends who came upon a wounded dragon, and they decided to follow their own council and offer their help to the dragon. She accepted, and they carried her in a net to her lair whereupon she offered them as much gold as they could carry, saying that she had no taste for it. But also, she offered them precious stones, which she loved very much. by that point, I was discovering that the daffodils had multiplied so many times that they were a solid clump about a foot wide and sucked down into about a foot of mud (under the ivy and around the rabid butterfly bush). but you know, the day is sweet, the stories are good, there are other garden-lovers who would happily take some-- "did I ever tell you about the griffin!?" so the griffin was a real creature before the time of the sarmations.... something about how the griffin was one of the Goddesses' favorite creatures, so when it came time for them to die, she didn't want to let them go, so she turned them into stone.... fossils.
and I have written this entire post with an impossibly sweet little stray lounging sort of around my left arm as I type- I would take a photo but that would mean I'd have to get up.
so, Mike is of Sarmatian blood, and he never lets you forget it- he has a tattoo of the Goddesse with a bow and arrow on his pectoral, and his vision of heaven is a "golden meadow" and no reason for war. He watches the history channel incessantly, or maybe his stories all rush out of him when a friend comes around, but in a tumble that I rarely follow for various reasons. That the sarmatians were the original Amazons I've grasped by now, along with their adherence to the principal that no matter how bad it gets to be the underdog, do NOT fight dirty. his mother was an assassin in the spanish civil war and was taken out by Franco. His wife and he both worked in Africa protecting a zinc mine, dodging machine gun fire and screaming airplanes - she eventually was hit by a drunk here in portland, and he just, oh, he misses her so much.... he went to church on valentine's day and could not stand with her -
Mike told me about cats this time (after telling me a kid's story involving a wounded and generous dragon). He asserts that cheetahs are as dumb as rocks but they make great watch-dogs in the small towns because what you really have to watch out for are the hyenas, and the cheetahs make all sorts of noise when they come around. as watch-dogs, they were not domesticated, but maybe sometimes their cubs would be given a safe place in a closet. but one time, Mom was out chasing an antelope or some large critter, and just as the cheetah (which he says has a special claw that they use as a hook to snag the back leg in a certain way) was about to get it, it made a sharp turn, so the cheetah ran smack into it. antelope goes tumbling, at sixtywhatever miles per hour, catches its horn on something and gets a broken neck. cheetah was discovered with a bloody nose, knocked cold. but she's the mom, and her cubs are in the closet, so she was rescued. but the hyenas had come, so the rescuers ran, with mom, back to the village just in time to close the gate and Mike says one of the hyenas was still running at them and slammed his head into the gate.
that was good, but this one was better: as guards, they have a short list of friend and foe, in a handbook of sorts. one time they had identified foe but were far from shelter. under the trees was a pride of lions. I love this- all about the attitude, they saunter over to the trees, hiding the guns, pretty much acting like they have as much right to be there as anyone else. the lionesses shuffle over, instructing the cubs to make space. The lion, however, grumbles and carries on. The lionesses grumble back at him. Soon afterward, a truck with a mounted machine gun cruises by, never noticing the bipeds among the other beasts.
the one with the dragon was a parable: it is said that dragons do not care to be disturbed, and that they are greedy. But once upon a time, there was a group of friends who came upon a wounded dragon, and they decided to follow their own council and offer their help to the dragon. She accepted, and they carried her in a net to her lair whereupon she offered them as much gold as they could carry, saying that she had no taste for it. But also, she offered them precious stones, which she loved very much. by that point, I was discovering that the daffodils had multiplied so many times that they were a solid clump about a foot wide and sucked down into about a foot of mud (under the ivy and around the rabid butterfly bush). but you know, the day is sweet, the stories are good, there are other garden-lovers who would happily take some-- "did I ever tell you about the griffin!?" so the griffin was a real creature before the time of the sarmations.... something about how the griffin was one of the Goddesses' favorite creatures, so when it came time for them to die, she didn't want to let them go, so she turned them into stone.... fossils.
and I have written this entire post with an impossibly sweet little stray lounging sort of around my left arm as I type- I would take a photo but that would mean I'd have to get up.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
thoughts on the TRC and reparations
my trip ended "on a hot note" as we say in ceramics: a date, lots of dancing, some disappointing dancers, and then a most interesting seatmate on the 16 hour plane ride home. (oh, yes, and then utterly lascivious ladyslippers in a greenhouse in florida not to mention how hot it is in portland at the moment).. by the time I was getting on the plane, I was well into the groove of a travelling state of mind- it takes me some time to adjust away from the comforts of home- though I was delighted to return to it, I could have been equally delighted to do something like Sam is doing now- a few months exploring ZA and neighboring countries by 4x4. this is the Kiwi staff aboard, a most compelling gentleman. a wanderer, for a time, he's about to top eighty sovereign nations explored- this is his blog, and he said he'd be writing again, but who knows-
I'm going to tackle a tricky subject, for me, with the full awareness that I have only scratched the surface of understanding- racial integration in ZA. This is my central question: given that other nations have been the product of centuries of conquest and division, suffered colonization, civil wars, apartheid and held truth and reconciliation commissions, did South Africa manage to get it more right than their neighbors? I absolutely cannot answer this properly, but I can relay my impressions and conversations. My impression is yes, and on pure instinct, I think the reason why is the particular quality of people like Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu. Yes, Mandela started out as a terrorist, and Winnie, his wife for a time, came before the TRC for some horrifying abuses- and it's still a mess out there- but something extremely powerful did happen with the TRC. I read Country of my Skull by Antjie Krog, an award-winning reporter who covered the entirety of the TRC. Interspersed with her accounting of the peoples' stories themselves, she references such ideas as the "culture of shame" found in Japan, and how the defeat of the emperor in WWII is the defeat of a people because individual identity is submissive to identity with the leader. One story that particularly struck me was that of Winnie Mandela- she had no apology before the commission. testimony was heard, she was steadfast in its absurdity. Until Tutu, beacon of leadership that he is, stood at the conclusion and simply begged her to apologize. The TRC had no formal clout, it was an independent, mostly nonpartial body fueled completely by its moral authority. Tutu was, in some eyes, demeaning himself by begging her for an empty apology. But the author argues that it was a brilliant move because she did actually apologize, and though they were empty words, the clan power structure of which she was the leader in many ways collapsed when she, by words if not in sentiment, acquiesced. she was, in some ways, dismantling the identities of her clansmen. one example of subtle but important groundshift.
Krog contends that simply by entering the collected truth into the national consciousness, a kind of peace can be made. An admission of guilt on the part of the perpetrators was in many instances as difficult to give as it was for the victims to forgive. But in other instances, despite conflicting versions of the same story, the inherent imperfections of language, the subtle and strange ways that widely different cultures living in such close proximity interpret an event, and the twists in individual psychological composition, great catharsis was achieved by bringing enemies before each other in a forum of respect. My brief perception of Cape Town culture was of great cultural variety and integration at least in public spaces. As anywhere, people self-segregate- that was also evident. I don't know what the proportion of blacks is in the city- in the country it's 80%. In the city, multicultural is the word- muslim, jew, indian, black, british, afrikaner and trendy white all swirled around each other, night and day, though my perspective is limited to daily "safe" wanderings and downtown clubs at night. I did not stroll through the shantytowns where 25% are HIV-pos.
So what of reparations? Germany gave reparations to the Jewish people- Israel was in large measure, created out of the German coffer. (is it gauche to point at Israel's systematic apartheid against Palestine?) In South Africa, there have been no reparations- there was no governing body that organized it, and no money anyway. (there is, intriguingly, a suit in US court currently that would bring international corporations to task for their role in SA apartheid then, with the aim of reparations). In the excellent company of our learned family friends, I heard a joke that clarified one perspective. Tutu was unfortunately misunderstood in a q&a session after a speech he made here in the states. the question was about the gravy train. Wikipedia says the gravy train is a british rock band but originally the gravy train was the train that the parliamentarians travelled on inbetween their summer and winter government houses in Cape Town and Pretoria. Gravy, of course, referred to the whiskey and cigars they all enjoyed en route. In the q&a, someone asked if there were still problems with the proverbial gravy train. Tutu replied that it wasn't a problem anymore, now they all just had their own jets. Which is to say that what happened with the election of the ANC in 1994, the first free elections, a population-proportional representation was elected. But that meant that people were, and are still, elected based on affirmative action and not on merit. The leaders do not know how to lead, they are still operating out of a tribal-based mentality in which prestige is measured in blig- (oh, wait, maybe this is too familiar), so tax money is fundamentally misunderstood to be personal money and spent on such things as -private jets. Moreover, affirmative action measures effectively closed down trade schools because qualified teachers could no longer be hired beyond a certain quota. Education in general suffered mightily- the quality plummeted so steeply that students wishing to enroll in med school were so fundamentally ill-prepared for the coursework that they would fail out. which in turn meant that capable students found that school an undesirable name, and turned aside. Affirmative action has also ensured that small businesses is stymied because beyond a ten(?) employee limit, one must be population-proportional regardless of skills sought (or languages mutually understood, etc.) These are observations through one filter.
Me, Claude, and Noah
Another set of stories from the same visit focused on trying to set up a small fishing business in Mozambique. Claude relayed for us the wearying quantity of bribe money needed to get the proper permits to run a fish boat, as well as a insider's communique of the creepy clarity of Saudi Arabia's systematic anti-western education of the young and impoverished. In a related thread, I enjoyed the conversation of an american gentleman who spent some of his school-years in Saudi Arabia, and he told me of the conniving ways he and his brother experienced when they had won an engineering competition of building a toothpick(?) bridge capable of standing under so many tens of pounds. the next day their names on the placard were replaced by their rivals... he contends that the Saudis will squeeze every penny out of their oil fields regardless of the resources' destructiveness for the next fifty years and fight tooth and nail for power.
intermission for photo of me and Noah battling the skalliwags in their pool-
I digress, but here the thread returns- my seatmate on the plane was a Jewish businessman from Johannesburg (with these lovely shiny shoes...). We also were talking about resources, Africa being so rich in them, and his contention, if I read it right, is that although focused reparations may indeed be a good idea, the general attitude in the African interior is one of "tomorrow, I will do it. or maybe next week. perhaps next year". he happens to find the relaxed life highly attractive and dreams of retiring into it. My question to him was about climate reparations: If the "developed world" financially helped the developing world essentially jump into a whole other kind of sustainable infrastructure, could that particular form of reparation be well-received and effectively implemented? He did not hazard a guess. We talked about the enormous sums it would entail. We agreed that enormous sums are being spent on war. We spoke about valuable work in the world, leadership, ethics, and where revolutions begin (coffeeshops). I wondered how much worse it could get before it gets better, and he reassured me that there will be a second coming. By their calculation, I'll be dead by then (250ish years from now)- too bad, I'm sure it will be exciting.
Meanwhile, uptown: Pop and I were on a mission in wine country and ended up in a cellar.sorry you have to turn your head sideways That wall is a beautiful wooden relief of three monks tasting their wine.
and then kidnapped to Franschhoek Valley where some of the most exclusive wineries are, but on the way, ran into a fire
goodbye with photos of the ocean at Tsitsikamma Park well east of Cape Town- I've never seen Pop's jaw drop before, but it did as we first spied this drama
I'm going to tackle a tricky subject, for me, with the full awareness that I have only scratched the surface of understanding- racial integration in ZA. This is my central question: given that other nations have been the product of centuries of conquest and division, suffered colonization, civil wars, apartheid and held truth and reconciliation commissions, did South Africa manage to get it more right than their neighbors? I absolutely cannot answer this properly, but I can relay my impressions and conversations. My impression is yes, and on pure instinct, I think the reason why is the particular quality of people like Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu. Yes, Mandela started out as a terrorist, and Winnie, his wife for a time, came before the TRC for some horrifying abuses- and it's still a mess out there- but something extremely powerful did happen with the TRC. I read Country of my Skull by Antjie Krog, an award-winning reporter who covered the entirety of the TRC. Interspersed with her accounting of the peoples' stories themselves, she references such ideas as the "culture of shame" found in Japan, and how the defeat of the emperor in WWII is the defeat of a people because individual identity is submissive to identity with the leader. One story that particularly struck me was that of Winnie Mandela- she had no apology before the commission. testimony was heard, she was steadfast in its absurdity. Until Tutu, beacon of leadership that he is, stood at the conclusion and simply begged her to apologize. The TRC had no formal clout, it was an independent, mostly nonpartial body fueled completely by its moral authority. Tutu was, in some eyes, demeaning himself by begging her for an empty apology. But the author argues that it was a brilliant move because she did actually apologize, and though they were empty words, the clan power structure of which she was the leader in many ways collapsed when she, by words if not in sentiment, acquiesced. she was, in some ways, dismantling the identities of her clansmen. one example of subtle but important groundshift.
Krog contends that simply by entering the collected truth into the national consciousness, a kind of peace can be made. An admission of guilt on the part of the perpetrators was in many instances as difficult to give as it was for the victims to forgive. But in other instances, despite conflicting versions of the same story, the inherent imperfections of language, the subtle and strange ways that widely different cultures living in such close proximity interpret an event, and the twists in individual psychological composition, great catharsis was achieved by bringing enemies before each other in a forum of respect. My brief perception of Cape Town culture was of great cultural variety and integration at least in public spaces. As anywhere, people self-segregate- that was also evident. I don't know what the proportion of blacks is in the city- in the country it's 80%. In the city, multicultural is the word- muslim, jew, indian, black, british, afrikaner and trendy white all swirled around each other, night and day, though my perspective is limited to daily "safe" wanderings and downtown clubs at night. I did not stroll through the shantytowns where 25% are HIV-pos.
So what of reparations? Germany gave reparations to the Jewish people- Israel was in large measure, created out of the German coffer. (is it gauche to point at Israel's systematic apartheid against Palestine?) In South Africa, there have been no reparations- there was no governing body that organized it, and no money anyway. (there is, intriguingly, a suit in US court currently that would bring international corporations to task for their role in SA apartheid then, with the aim of reparations). In the excellent company of our learned family friends, I heard a joke that clarified one perspective. Tutu was unfortunately misunderstood in a q&a session after a speech he made here in the states. the question was about the gravy train. Wikipedia says the gravy train is a british rock band but originally the gravy train was the train that the parliamentarians travelled on inbetween their summer and winter government houses in Cape Town and Pretoria. Gravy, of course, referred to the whiskey and cigars they all enjoyed en route. In the q&a, someone asked if there were still problems with the proverbial gravy train. Tutu replied that it wasn't a problem anymore, now they all just had their own jets. Which is to say that what happened with the election of the ANC in 1994, the first free elections, a population-proportional representation was elected. But that meant that people were, and are still, elected based on affirmative action and not on merit. The leaders do not know how to lead, they are still operating out of a tribal-based mentality in which prestige is measured in blig- (oh, wait, maybe this is too familiar), so tax money is fundamentally misunderstood to be personal money and spent on such things as -private jets. Moreover, affirmative action measures effectively closed down trade schools because qualified teachers could no longer be hired beyond a certain quota. Education in general suffered mightily- the quality plummeted so steeply that students wishing to enroll in med school were so fundamentally ill-prepared for the coursework that they would fail out. which in turn meant that capable students found that school an undesirable name, and turned aside. Affirmative action has also ensured that small businesses is stymied because beyond a ten(?) employee limit, one must be population-proportional regardless of skills sought (or languages mutually understood, etc.) These are observations through one filter.
Me, Claude, and Noah
Another set of stories from the same visit focused on trying to set up a small fishing business in Mozambique. Claude relayed for us the wearying quantity of bribe money needed to get the proper permits to run a fish boat, as well as a insider's communique of the creepy clarity of Saudi Arabia's systematic anti-western education of the young and impoverished. In a related thread, I enjoyed the conversation of an american gentleman who spent some of his school-years in Saudi Arabia, and he told me of the conniving ways he and his brother experienced when they had won an engineering competition of building a toothpick(?) bridge capable of standing under so many tens of pounds. the next day their names on the placard were replaced by their rivals... he contends that the Saudis will squeeze every penny out of their oil fields regardless of the resources' destructiveness for the next fifty years and fight tooth and nail for power.
intermission for photo of me and Noah battling the skalliwags in their pool-
I digress, but here the thread returns- my seatmate on the plane was a Jewish businessman from Johannesburg (with these lovely shiny shoes...). We also were talking about resources, Africa being so rich in them, and his contention, if I read it right, is that although focused reparations may indeed be a good idea, the general attitude in the African interior is one of "tomorrow, I will do it. or maybe next week. perhaps next year". he happens to find the relaxed life highly attractive and dreams of retiring into it. My question to him was about climate reparations: If the "developed world" financially helped the developing world essentially jump into a whole other kind of sustainable infrastructure, could that particular form of reparation be well-received and effectively implemented? He did not hazard a guess. We talked about the enormous sums it would entail. We agreed that enormous sums are being spent on war. We spoke about valuable work in the world, leadership, ethics, and where revolutions begin (coffeeshops). I wondered how much worse it could get before it gets better, and he reassured me that there will be a second coming. By their calculation, I'll be dead by then (250ish years from now)- too bad, I'm sure it will be exciting.
Meanwhile, uptown: Pop and I were on a mission in wine country and ended up in a cellar.sorry you have to turn your head sideways That wall is a beautiful wooden relief of three monks tasting their wine.
and then kidnapped to Franschhoek Valley where some of the most exclusive wineries are, but on the way, ran into a fire
goodbye with photos of the ocean at Tsitsikamma Park well east of Cape Town- I've never seen Pop's jaw drop before, but it did as we first spied this drama
Sunday, January 3, 2010
kirstenbosch gardens
they are teasing me for disappearing into my cabin for so long to write this, but I have to share just a bit more, for I'm not sure when next it will be easy- I had a wonderful birthday- Sam and I hiked up Table Mountain, wandered around up top, and flew down again, landing in a garden. that's a view from lunch, and below, an idea of what it's like on top of this very unusual mountain- long, skinny, and flat on top, plants all dry and spikey, white rocks, hot wind- reservoirs stained tea- brown with the tannins of so much plant life.
and then we pass from such a craggy tumble to the highly manicured gardens of Kirstenbosch. 
this is a place dedicated to indigenous plants of the wide variety of bioregions of South Africa, and it was so peaceful to me when I returned the next day- (on my birthday, I was just too wobbly-tired and trying to keep up with the long-legged Kiwi)
Gina, these photos are for you- you'd have an ecstatic fit in here
I spent the day drawing and writing.we have also been meeting up with family friends from Florida- the son of which journeyed on the first Argo with Jason as they made their way around the world so many years ago. Claude met his wife Julie on that trip and is now the father of two sweet lively kids, and building a new ship for their next life- long adventures- Pop and i had a lovely long lunch visit with them in their home overlooking Hout Bay.. and we've had other social engagements that have taken the potter with the perpetually shredded nails and dirty mind nineteen floors up to one of the most posh places in town to taste the wine that tempers the tongue and eat the delicacies flown in that morning from who knows what corner of the planet. Before the steel domes over the plates were simultaneously wisked off, I saw my reflection- David de Rothschild came up in conversation- I'm not sure how, but I jumped- he's one of my favorite people, and I immediately saw a way to inject words like "climate change" and "desperate poverty" into the afternoon. slip it in, with excitement, with hope---- dead on arrival.... sigh
holiday mayhem
Fair to say it's been a proper vacation when I've been doing instead of writing about it- we are lovely in the harbor, nestled in a corner along with other bigger boats of various descriptions- ratty rusty near-ocean fishboats, a two hundred foot chinease fishboat
, or at the moment, a norwegian research vessel. at the opposite side are the tugboats responsable for guiding the heavily loaded cargo ships that moor offshore. The tugs are the musclemen- below is a vid of one temporarily 
stern to the dock as someone hops off or is collecting something from the office- we joke that even such a mass of machine can't move that concrete dock- they move with equal facility forwards backwards and any which way- they spin on a dime- Pop says its because they have their propellers in tube-shaped cages down below their center-point that can be pivoted in any direction, much like my wrist-joint, as i imagine. These ones are about ninety feet and we're guessing pack a few thousand horse-power. hot.
on the other side of the pier is a very large boat with an oddly-shaped bow and stern, designed for laying ocean cable.
We rest against a floating dock with a constantly creaking ramp. the dock itself was a favorite of the harbor seals until we bipeds invaded the territory. A standoff was described to us as we arrived: the big male (bob) and his harem were pushed to one end of it and a temporary barricade was constructed: turf. Bob was displeased with the arrangement and moved his coterie after a while, now smaller males compete for the right to lay in the shade and be pestered by chinese sailors shouting HELLO!HELLO!HELLO! at them. I sometimes wake to their honking and snorting. Then there are the various beeps and blasts of ships coming in, going out, going in reverse, the pirate ship tour that looks like it would be more stable upsidedown, the harbor tour boats who point us out, the deep bass of tugs, the distant wail of singing from the marine festival (I think I've heard sweet home alabama seventeen times now), planes, helicopters, police cars... it's never quiet and like living in a city, it all blends in after time. The harbor, though polluted, is far from empty of marine life. Of course there are the hordes of screeching seagulls that sound like something from Hitchcock. Flocks of hook-beaked cormorants swoop down in search of the occasional school of little fish that get trapped in here. Other schools may be chased by dolphins ripping under the surface, and corralled at the other side by the seals that swim in such playful spirals. We've even seen a sunfish on multiple occasions, one of those strange beasts that looks like a boney disk with a dorsal and lower fin- like a fish that got it's rear half bitten off. When the wind picks up, the waves move from gently tapping at the steel drum of the stern to actively smacking it, the rigging begins to rythmically bang against the resonating tube of the masts, whisting around the shrouds and lifting the sunshade tarps into sails until we roll them up again.
New Year's Eve was a night such as this, tending to the tension on the dock lines, delaying the enjoyment of the champagne, anticipating fireworks under the blue moon, which turned into ducking flares set off upwind by some passing jokers. Pop and I are here for the month as the captain and crew take their vacation time on various schedules. Fortunately, we are joined the entire time by the second mate, Sam, and when they were all satisfied that they'd secured the boat to a safe level, he and I ran off in search of parties. It's an unexpected treat to have an occasional partying companion, but after that night and last night, I am beginning to think that perhaps I need a guide for the urban safari as well as the wilderness one. Pop and I muse on the veneer of civility that covers the modern human animal. Partying sometimes brings this into stark relief- we ended up at someone's house in a rich neighborhood, strewn with liquor bottles and fashionable people. His comment was that it reminded him of high school and we left as soon as his question had been answered.
But they celebrate new year's twice around here! the second of the year is the day when historically, the slaves had their one day off. They took to walking through the streets in a procession of minstrels, banners, song and dance. Today it is organized into brass bands, a raucous surging energy that taps the African love of rythmn and dance. Each group is in their own polyester suits, from the older men to the little kids, and the colors are out of control- Often the little kids came along first, perhaps with a full feathered hat and baton, and dancing, always dancing- faces and bald heads painted in swirls and ribbons, then the full band, always playing something with great surging rhythm, and then a huge group behind them of people waving parasols. Invariably there were the stragglers- still dancing, blowing whistles, waving arms- frequently I got goose-bumps as their song blew into it's full volume and everyone erupted into movement. Especially in amongst the others were a few young people who were specially designated at dancers- those who roused the crowd with running flips, wild gestures, flapping tongues and wide eyes, a fay strip-tease style dancer, boys naturally moving as they would have centuries ago, now with rainbow mohawk wigs... and there were the ancestor-demons with rubber halloween masks and wooden axes that jumped up on the wire railings that kept the crowd on the sidewalk, frightening the kids as they pretended to steal their souls- the funniest moment occurred when a little boy ran away from one of these, into the arms of his mother who promptly, playfully, flicked off the demon. the little boy mimicked his mother and everyone burst out laughing...
Travel is always a mixed bag- it is bittersweet to me whose desires run deep- I wanted to follow the parade to where I knew they were going, move with them- these beats are the same as my canned electronica, but the energy was internal and palpable and not maintained by annoying laser noises and squealing women: the beats are the same as the plains indian sun dance, soaked in the spirit released by trance and ritual wounding. Something in me stirs when I am confronted by energy in this form, and I made a plan to rejoin the people that evening at the stadium when I learned they would be dancing all night. But I am in a foreign land and confirmation is not confirmation, and the veneer of civility is particularly thin in some places: I was a woman alone last night, wandering through places where white people are stabbed then robbed, and when I got the the party, it had moved- I was heartbroken. here I am in the center of the river, and even then I somehow get stuck on some rock- how? invariably i blame myself- what intuition is off? why does fate move in these ways? Pop quotes Einstein: "is the universe belevolent or malevolent?" if you accept the question to begin with, one can only accept what is as right and necessary. I lost the thread, so my imagination extends forward into evening- staid grandmothers shuffling with the littlest kids, portly fathers and their exhausted wives, girlfriends hanging on each other preening for the circles of boys in a metaphorical cockfight, their shiney band suits, elaborate metallic face paintings and clown wigs in various states of disarray, everyone and me dancing in the exuberance of the unvarnished spirit.
Kirstenbosch gardens-
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