Today I am back from a week-long sesshin at the Monastery. I have a lot to do to make up for being away for a week but I haven't done most of it. Although allowing one's mind to settle and quiet down leaves a lot of energy for actually doing what is in front of you, I haven't been very focused today. And although this extra energy made me feel light and, well, energetic despite getting very little sleep, I feel pretty tired today. Further although many good and important things happened during the course of the week, I am left feeling quite…..how to say?……at the beginning.
My neighbors across the street suddenly started showing up at the Temple in Brooklyn on Sundays. It was a funny moment as we looked at each other and said, "What are you doing here??!" They keep coming back and seemed to have enthusiastically embraced the practice and the community. Just before sesshin, I gave them a ride back to our neighborhood and we chatted about various aspects of Zen practice. They had lots of questions and I did my best to answer. Today I feel like ringing their bell and telling them to forget everything I said two weeks ago. I can't really remember what I said, but please, forget it.
My teacher gave me a practice two and a half years ago. Almost every week, except for times when either he or I are away, I have private face-to-face teaching with him where I present my understanding of my practice. It is a koan practice so it isn't that I just let him know how things are going, there is a passing through that happens; an understanding or realization that is there or not there. It isn't amorphous or vague - you either have it or you don't have it. For over two years, he has gently or not so gently told me to keep working on it. A hair's breath away? Keep working on it. Mountains and rivers away from it? Keep working on it. You already know? Keep working on it. I know you know? Keep working on it.
In the rest of my life, to be told no, you're wrong, for over two years would be a pretty clear indication of, shall we say, failure. Or, at least, that I am simply not very good at this. The thing about this practice is, success and failure don't actually come into the picture. As someone who is generally competent and usually pretty quick on the uptake, this kind of perspective is a bit of an adjustment.
I have gotten better at sesshin in the sense that I actually do my practice a lot of the time. I used to marvel that, out of an entire week, if I added up how long I was really concentrating on my practice (versus daydreaming, fantasizing, sleeping or otherwise blathering to myself about myself), it would probably be an hour or so. Now, it is closer to about 50% of the time. I hope that I am not being too generous with myself there but it feels about right. But that is really the question: Am I wasting time or am I really practicing? If the answer is that I am really practicing, then "Keep working on it" is a fine thing - the absolutely correct thing - no matter how long it takes. To even say that it is taking a long time doesn't make sense. But it is a weird thing too because no where else in the world has these standards. So I have to remind myself every so often that even this feeling of being lost and clueless is exactly the right place to be.
Still, while there is no problem, it is an uneasy place. I am pretty sure that's the idea.
Monday, April 27, 2015
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Question? Answered!
Most years go like this: January to mid-May: New York. Mid-May to mid-Sept: Newfoundland. Mid-Sept to December: New York. Except when we stay in Newfoundland for the whole winter. which is always pretty exciting. And beautiful. And cold. And snowy. This year is shaping up a little differently.
For one thing, I have to be in Nashville for another yoga therapy training at the end of June. For another thing, Finn is leaving the nest early. I used that phrase in a post to an online homeschooling forum recently. Last night, Finn called me out on it. He couldn't believe I used such a hackneyed cliché (are there any other kinds?). Apparently he has high standards for my writing. Who knew that I had raised such a literary snob? I wonder what he would think of my digressions? In any case, he is heading to Italy for a year (or so) to be a WWOOFer. I wish I could say that it is his deep love of the land and the soil that has brought him to this decision but, I can not. It is his deep interest in Italian food and the slow-paced lifestyle. WWOOFing seems to be the most likely way for him to experience it on a budget. So, off he goes on his grand adventure at the end of May.
Finn's grand adventure didn't, in itself, change too much and Lucy and I were still booked on a ferry in early July. Then, I started having some doubts. As loyal readers know, I have been part of a team of women caring for a friend who has Stage 4 cancer. She calls us her goddesses. Somehow, recently, I was dubbed "Head Goddess" although I am not sure how that came about. I am thinking of adding it to my business cards, however. Although my friend has been holding her own - indeed even more than holding her own; she has been doing great - I have been feeling uneasy about being away for so long. It just doesn't feel like Head Goddess behavior. But it still wasn't really clear to me what I should do.
Then a golden opportunity fell into my lap. I have been searching around for places to teach yoga that would be welcoming of what I do, which is decidedly not Power/Sweat Express/Kick Ass/Rock'n Roll Yoga to the Stars. It's been a tough sell in this More is More/Vata deranged/if-I-don't-leave-here-drenched-and-exhausted-then-I-haven't-done-yoga city. Then I remembered J. Brown. J has made a name for himself as the "gentle is the new advanced" yoga guy. He trained in the same lineage and has a studio in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where he has carved out his audience of people who appreciate what he is doing. It's kind of a miracle, really. So, I made contact and offered my services (our lineage is small so we know lots of people in common). I went to his class. We hit it off. He offered me a spot in his teacher training on scholarship so we would be on the same page, teaching-wise. And thus my question of to stay or not to stay was answered. J's training is largely self-directed but he does hold workshops on Saturday evenings throughout the summer. Hello, New York summer!
I still have to be up in Cape Breton at the end of August to install the show in Inverness and then we will travel on to Gillams. Enrollment willing, I will be teaching at the big fibre conference in Gros Morne in early October. Does that mean winter 2015-16 in Gillams? It's not impossible! Just as things sorted themselves out for the summer, I am going to trust that the answer to that question will come in the fullness of time.
For one thing, I have to be in Nashville for another yoga therapy training at the end of June. For another thing, Finn is leaving the nest early. I used that phrase in a post to an online homeschooling forum recently. Last night, Finn called me out on it. He couldn't believe I used such a hackneyed cliché (are there any other kinds?). Apparently he has high standards for my writing. Who knew that I had raised such a literary snob? I wonder what he would think of my digressions? In any case, he is heading to Italy for a year (or so) to be a WWOOFer. I wish I could say that it is his deep love of the land and the soil that has brought him to this decision but, I can not. It is his deep interest in Italian food and the slow-paced lifestyle. WWOOFing seems to be the most likely way for him to experience it on a budget. So, off he goes on his grand adventure at the end of May.
Finn's grand adventure didn't, in itself, change too much and Lucy and I were still booked on a ferry in early July. Then, I started having some doubts. As loyal readers know, I have been part of a team of women caring for a friend who has Stage 4 cancer. She calls us her goddesses. Somehow, recently, I was dubbed "Head Goddess" although I am not sure how that came about. I am thinking of adding it to my business cards, however. Although my friend has been holding her own - indeed even more than holding her own; she has been doing great - I have been feeling uneasy about being away for so long. It just doesn't feel like Head Goddess behavior. But it still wasn't really clear to me what I should do.
Then a golden opportunity fell into my lap. I have been searching around for places to teach yoga that would be welcoming of what I do, which is decidedly not Power/Sweat Express/Kick Ass/Rock'n Roll Yoga to the Stars. It's been a tough sell in this More is More/Vata deranged/if-I-don't-leave-here-drenched-and-exhausted-then-I-haven't-done-yoga city. Then I remembered J. Brown. J has made a name for himself as the "gentle is the new advanced" yoga guy. He trained in the same lineage and has a studio in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where he has carved out his audience of people who appreciate what he is doing. It's kind of a miracle, really. So, I made contact and offered my services (our lineage is small so we know lots of people in common). I went to his class. We hit it off. He offered me a spot in his teacher training on scholarship so we would be on the same page, teaching-wise. And thus my question of to stay or not to stay was answered. J's training is largely self-directed but he does hold workshops on Saturday evenings throughout the summer. Hello, New York summer!
I still have to be up in Cape Breton at the end of August to install the show in Inverness and then we will travel on to Gillams. Enrollment willing, I will be teaching at the big fibre conference in Gros Morne in early October. Does that mean winter 2015-16 in Gillams? It's not impossible! Just as things sorted themselves out for the summer, I am going to trust that the answer to that question will come in the fullness of time.
Monday, April 13, 2015
Pushback
After months of spinning only black Shetland, there had to be some pushback….
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| BFL and silk, chain-plied (hand painted roving by Widdershins Woolworks) |
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| First of two plies in the works - Targhee (hand painted roving by Widdershins Woolworks) |
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| BFL two-ply (hand painted roving by yours truly) |
Friday, April 03, 2015
Glass Beads and Gun Powder
On Monday, I took my installation down at bkbx. Another artist's show opened last night (really beautiful - go see it!). For me, the whole project was about experimenting. Materials, ideas: none of them were fixed so all of them were open to change. The thing that began the process ended up being all but invisible. Some people were disappointed by that, and I had moments of doubt myself, but in the end it was simply how it went. And I think it left the door open to another project or perhaps to making this one bigger. Fortunately, I will have that opportunity because the piece will be re-installed (and perhaps re-envisioned) at the end of August as part of an exhibition that I am co-organizing in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. More about that later.
As I reflect on the installation, the process of making it and the feedback from people who experienced it, I find myself thinking about what's wrong when we (I) are (am) timid. In art, and in life, there is a spectrum of wildness or daring. I have a friend, Donna Sharrett, who makes gorgeous collaged pieces. They are exquisite in the purest sense of the word. I will never forget her telling me about the agonizing she did when she decided to add a new element to them. For her, adding a glass bead when before there were none felt like leaping off the cliff.
At the other end of the spectrum are artists like Cai Guo Qiang. He thinks big - really big. What I find remarkable is that, sometimes, his work is just as exquisite as Donna's collages, even when the scale is huge and the materials are gun powder and rockets. I think of this one, Black Rainbow for Valencia, Spain. (Link is to a video that it definitely worth watching.)
Being rather a fan, I have gone to several of his artist talks. I remember one time, I think it was when the piece above was new, it was the aftermath of 9/11 when the US was discovering just how wrongheaded it had been to invade Iraq. Cai was speaking and someone asked him about George W. Bush and his politics. Everyone in the audience was waiting for him to eviscerate GWB. Not just waiting for him to do that but wanting him to do that because, in that audience at least, everyone was so angry about what had happened. We all felt so powerless and it would have been so gratifying to hear this brilliant artist put poor, stupid George in his place. But no. Cai just waved his hand and said something like, "Politicians come and go" and moved on to the next topic. It really struck me that here was someone who had such a huge vision and had such a broad perspective that the rise and (inevitable) fall of a politician who had an eight-year term limit was not worth spending much time dwelling on. His ideas were larger than any moment in geopolitical time.
I think it is important to note here that it would be easy to put Cai above Donna and say that his daring is greater. In a way, it is - his failures are larger and certainly involve more people. But I wonder if there is another way to see it: that Donna's inverse scale - the drama of adding a glass bead - is possibly just as monumental as rockets firing gun powder over Valencia. How do we understand our own timidity and hesitations? What - exactly - is holding us back?
That's what I want to know.
As I reflect on the installation, the process of making it and the feedback from people who experienced it, I find myself thinking about what's wrong when we (I) are (am) timid. In art, and in life, there is a spectrum of wildness or daring. I have a friend, Donna Sharrett, who makes gorgeous collaged pieces. They are exquisite in the purest sense of the word. I will never forget her telling me about the agonizing she did when she decided to add a new element to them. For her, adding a glass bead when before there were none felt like leaping off the cliff.
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| Donna Sharett, Dancing Barefoot, 2014. |
At the other end of the spectrum are artists like Cai Guo Qiang. He thinks big - really big. What I find remarkable is that, sometimes, his work is just as exquisite as Donna's collages, even when the scale is huge and the materials are gun powder and rockets. I think of this one, Black Rainbow for Valencia, Spain. (Link is to a video that it definitely worth watching.)
Being rather a fan, I have gone to several of his artist talks. I remember one time, I think it was when the piece above was new, it was the aftermath of 9/11 when the US was discovering just how wrongheaded it had been to invade Iraq. Cai was speaking and someone asked him about George W. Bush and his politics. Everyone in the audience was waiting for him to eviscerate GWB. Not just waiting for him to do that but wanting him to do that because, in that audience at least, everyone was so angry about what had happened. We all felt so powerless and it would have been so gratifying to hear this brilliant artist put poor, stupid George in his place. But no. Cai just waved his hand and said something like, "Politicians come and go" and moved on to the next topic. It really struck me that here was someone who had such a huge vision and had such a broad perspective that the rise and (inevitable) fall of a politician who had an eight-year term limit was not worth spending much time dwelling on. His ideas were larger than any moment in geopolitical time.
I think it is important to note here that it would be easy to put Cai above Donna and say that his daring is greater. In a way, it is - his failures are larger and certainly involve more people. But I wonder if there is another way to see it: that Donna's inverse scale - the drama of adding a glass bead - is possibly just as monumental as rockets firing gun powder over Valencia. How do we understand our own timidity and hesitations? What - exactly - is holding us back?
That's what I want to know.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
An Impractical Labor Studio Tour
ILSSA - Impractical Labor in the Service of the Speculative Arts - I have written about it here before. It is a community of people who make art using impractical methods just because we want to - our motto is As long as it takes!
I love ILSSA and its mission so it is extra fabulous that they invited me to participate in their new blog, Markdown. They are doing a series of interviews/studio tours with members. Here is a link to mine. I hope you will take a look and then check out the other ones too. People are doing amazing things!
I love ILSSA and its mission so it is extra fabulous that they invited me to participate in their new blog, Markdown. They are doing a series of interviews/studio tours with members. Here is a link to mine. I hope you will take a look and then check out the other ones too. People are doing amazing things!
Friday, March 27, 2015
A Happy Fellow
On New Year's Day, I came home from the Rohatsu sesshin at Zen Mountain Monastery feeling quite beautifully exhausted. We need a new word to describe that feeling, which is being physically tired but with a relaxed, yet sharp, mind. The next day, I allowed myself to disperse that feeling just a bit by looking at my Facebook page. A friend had posted a notice about an artist residency in Ithaca, NY. Maybe it was because the place is called The Saltonstall Foundation, a name that to me says "Boston" not "Ithaca" (Saltonstall is a big name in Boston, with family ties there that go back to the 1600s. Massachusetts Governor, Leverett Saltonstall's wife, Alice, once famously said, about California, "It sounds lovely but who wants to live 3000 miles from the ocean?"). Naturally my curiosity was peaked. Then there was just a general feeling that I had been having that I have spent a lot of time lately developing my Zen practice and my yoga practice and my art practice has been riding along in the backseat - enjoying the ride! - but coasting a bit. So, add to that mixture the special energy that one only gets following Rohatsu and I found myself sending in an impromptu application, because the deadline was January 2nd - no time to over-think this one.
There are times when I have posted grant applications when I just know that it will be a winner. And there are times when I am fairly certain that I have just done a very important exercise in figuring out something about my work and myself but no money or opportunity will be immediately forthcoming. That second one is most of the time - there is just a little (or sometimes big) feeling of disconnect inside of me that lets me know that this idea or project or time just isn't quite ready yet. But on January 2, 2015, everything felt connected. It's not the kind of thing that one can force to make happen. But, you can improve the chances by creating the right environment and fixing mistakes from past experiences and by trying again and again. It's kind of like grant samādhi - when you are in it, you are in it, but if you think you are in it, you are not in it.
A few weeks ago, when the name Saltonstall popped up on my cellphone, I knew exactly why I was getting the call. I do not say this arrogantly! I have a mountain of rejections behind me and, no doubt, in front of me too. No, it was just that I knew that the time was right, the place was right, the name was right, and I was right! I am very pleased to say that I was selected to be one of the 2015 Fellows at The Saltonstall Foundation, which means I will be working in residence there from mid-May to mid-June. Here is the list of all the artists and writers who have been selected.
I am very excited about the opportunity that this residency presents. I have been trying to not plan what I will work on up there but a couple of ideas are loosely floating around in my head. It is such a privilege to have the time and space to work on them. Thank you to The Saltonstall Foundation and to Connie Saltonstall who was, yes, born in Boston but moved to Ithaca and who made it her dying wish to support other artists in this way. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
There are times when I have posted grant applications when I just know that it will be a winner. And there are times when I am fairly certain that I have just done a very important exercise in figuring out something about my work and myself but no money or opportunity will be immediately forthcoming. That second one is most of the time - there is just a little (or sometimes big) feeling of disconnect inside of me that lets me know that this idea or project or time just isn't quite ready yet. But on January 2, 2015, everything felt connected. It's not the kind of thing that one can force to make happen. But, you can improve the chances by creating the right environment and fixing mistakes from past experiences and by trying again and again. It's kind of like grant samādhi - when you are in it, you are in it, but if you think you are in it, you are not in it.
A few weeks ago, when the name Saltonstall popped up on my cellphone, I knew exactly why I was getting the call. I do not say this arrogantly! I have a mountain of rejections behind me and, no doubt, in front of me too. No, it was just that I knew that the time was right, the place was right, the name was right, and I was right! I am very pleased to say that I was selected to be one of the 2015 Fellows at The Saltonstall Foundation, which means I will be working in residence there from mid-May to mid-June. Here is the list of all the artists and writers who have been selected.
I am very excited about the opportunity that this residency presents. I have been trying to not plan what I will work on up there but a couple of ideas are loosely floating around in my head. It is such a privilege to have the time and space to work on them. Thank you to The Saltonstall Foundation and to Connie Saltonstall who was, yes, born in Boston but moved to Ithaca and who made it her dying wish to support other artists in this way. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Monday, March 23, 2015
Out in the World
Yes, the snow banks in Gillams may still be 12' tall and rising (another blizzard happening right now even as I type these words), but there are other things happening in that part of the world too. For example, in October, when the snow will have melted and mostly likely before any new snow will be falling, there will be a ginormous fibre arts conference held in Gros Morne, a national park and World Heritage Site. It is, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful places on the face of this great Earth and a fantastic location for this conference.
I have the privilege of leading a three-day workshop as part of the event. I encourage you to click over here and take a look. The whole conference looks amazing but, of course, my workshop sounds the most fascinating and wonderful. You should sign up immediately!
I have the privilege of leading a three-day workshop as part of the event. I encourage you to click over here and take a look. The whole conference looks amazing but, of course, my workshop sounds the most fascinating and wonderful. You should sign up immediately!
Friday, March 20, 2015
Breaking Up is Hard To Do
On Wednesday, I broke up with my Ashtanga teachers. Like most break ups, this one has been in the works for a while. As a friend once said (about her own break-up with her partner of many years), "That boat had sunk a long time ago".
I know some people like to cut and run at the first sign of unpleasantness but that is the opposite of me. I hang in there through thick and thin - a quality that is shared by most Ashtangi's, I imagine. I mean, if you are put off by a bit of adversity, you will not keep going with the practice. It is a very challenging practice and we tend to pride ourselves on being able to work with what is hard about it. I mean, that IS the practice in a lot of ways.
I train in a tradition that is related to but quite different from Ashtanga and it has been a juggling act to find ways of making it all fit together. There are times when everything seems to make perfect sense and there have been times when I wonder that I think I am getting at, dabbling in this and that, especially if by "dabbling" you mean six years of Ashtanga practice, 500+ hrs of Desikachar teacher training, a year of yoga therapy training and, hey, why not add in ten years of Zen practice. Honey, I am exhausted just writing all that out, so imagine what it is like to keep all those strands together together.
You know, a lotta ins, lotta outs, lotta what-have-you's. And, uh, lotta strands to keep in my head, man. Lotta strands in old Duder's head. Luckily I'm adhering to a pretty strict, uh, drug regimen to keep my mind, you know, limber.
Lost my train of thought there...
I am not 100% sold on Ashtanga as a complete system. It has some serious flaws, actually. For a good, long while, I was in sync with my teachers as they began to work through those flaws. They started modifying postures to suit people's individual needs. They stopped giving extreme adjustments and encouraged us to scale back and really focus on the basics. Glory days. At a certain point, however, my teachers began to move towards a solely physical practice - more like being personal trainers. And that's cool. But I actually like all that other stuff in yoga, all that mind/body/spirit stuff. I really believe it.
When I started to ask some questions about the direction we were headed, they replied, "well, everything you do can be yoga." Yes…but. But, we train in a very specific way for part of everyday so that everything we do can be yoga. It won't happen otherwise. Yes, you can do squats and work with weights with the mind of yoga, just like you can eat or do laundry or sit on the toilet with a mind of yoga. But there is a difference between practice and training: I train so I can practice better.
So, the paths that crossed over six years ago uncrossed on Wednesday. It is a sad thing but part of me already feels a lightness, a happiness to see what will happen next. There is more to learn. There is always more to learn.
I know some people like to cut and run at the first sign of unpleasantness but that is the opposite of me. I hang in there through thick and thin - a quality that is shared by most Ashtangi's, I imagine. I mean, if you are put off by a bit of adversity, you will not keep going with the practice. It is a very challenging practice and we tend to pride ourselves on being able to work with what is hard about it. I mean, that IS the practice in a lot of ways.
I train in a tradition that is related to but quite different from Ashtanga and it has been a juggling act to find ways of making it all fit together. There are times when everything seems to make perfect sense and there have been times when I wonder that I think I am getting at, dabbling in this and that, especially if by "dabbling" you mean six years of Ashtanga practice, 500+ hrs of Desikachar teacher training, a year of yoga therapy training and, hey, why not add in ten years of Zen practice. Honey, I am exhausted just writing all that out, so imagine what it is like to keep all those strands together together.
You know, a lotta ins, lotta outs, lotta what-have-you's. And, uh, lotta strands to keep in my head, man. Lotta strands in old Duder's head. Luckily I'm adhering to a pretty strict, uh, drug regimen to keep my mind, you know, limber.
Lost my train of thought there...
I am not 100% sold on Ashtanga as a complete system. It has some serious flaws, actually. For a good, long while, I was in sync with my teachers as they began to work through those flaws. They started modifying postures to suit people's individual needs. They stopped giving extreme adjustments and encouraged us to scale back and really focus on the basics. Glory days. At a certain point, however, my teachers began to move towards a solely physical practice - more like being personal trainers. And that's cool. But I actually like all that other stuff in yoga, all that mind/body/spirit stuff. I really believe it.
When I started to ask some questions about the direction we were headed, they replied, "well, everything you do can be yoga." Yes…but. But, we train in a very specific way for part of everyday so that everything we do can be yoga. It won't happen otherwise. Yes, you can do squats and work with weights with the mind of yoga, just like you can eat or do laundry or sit on the toilet with a mind of yoga. But there is a difference between practice and training: I train so I can practice better.
So, the paths that crossed over six years ago uncrossed on Wednesday. It is a sad thing but part of me already feels a lightness, a happiness to see what will happen next. There is more to learn. There is always more to learn.
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
The After-Party
If, before the exhibition opens, I am full of doubt and wondering why in the world I do this thing that puts my heart and soul out there for all to see and stomp on…
…then, after the exhibition opens, I am full of amazement at just how timid I was and wondering why in the world I didn't stick my neck out more.
Life is short, you fool! Go for it!
…then, after the exhibition opens, I am full of amazement at just how timid I was and wondering why in the world I didn't stick my neck out more.
Life is short, you fool! Go for it!
Thursday, March 12, 2015
TSITCASAA - The Movie
To Stand in the Center and See All Around is up! It opened on a cold but lovely evening with a good turn-out. It is the secret terror of the solo exhibitioner - will anyone come? There are no other artists to create a buffer crowd. I had visions of me and the chips and dips mournfully downing the Trader Joe's wine until total despair won out. But no, people came and even seemed to have fun.
The lighting has been a big question for me. My wish is that it would vary from complete darkness to enough light to see that the environment is a total fabrication held together with wire. My skills as a lighting designer are not up for this task so I went with the darker of the two options. Then I changed my mind and went with the lighter of the two options. Today, I went back to the darker option.
The thing about the darker option is that one can not see the knit piece at all. It is just a looming wall of blackness that counters the mirrored walls. In a way, that is totally fine but it is giving up something. Likewise, being able to see it better and experience it more directly has plusses but you lose the mysteriousness of the blackness, pulsing with light through the bladders that occasionally matches up with the rhythms of the sound piece.
It's a toss up.
The good news is that I will get to present this piece again in late August up in Cape Breton as part of an exhibition that I am co-organizing at the Inverness Cultural Centre. One comment that has come up from several people is that they wish there were more rooms to explore. I have to agree. There is something about it that calls out for variations on a theme. I guess my days (and nights) of spinning black Shetland are not over yet.
Friday, March 06, 2015
TSITCASAA (Plan B) - Opens Tonight!
The installation of To Stand in the Center and See All Around (TSITCASAA) has been going really well. Head Installer at StudioLove aka Finnian has a genuine talent for seeing how things should be put together. As we looked at the space and laid out the materials, he came up with an idea that saved hours and hours of work. Yup, raised that boy right, I did!
But no installation goes smoothly the whole way through - I think it is some law of physics or something - and TSITCASAA is no exception. Yesterday, as the Head Installer and I struggled to put up the lights and the bladders as the ceiling of the space that I have created, it became clear that it was not going to work. It became clear when the whole thing fell to the ground just as we were about to congratulate ourselves on overcoming gravity through a combination of nails and packing tape. The thing lay on the ground in a pile and I looked at Finn and said, "I think it is time for Plan B." He said, "Do you have a Plan B?"
The answer was no but I quickly invented one. To be honest, it is these moments where art happens for me. The vision of What It Should Look Like has been shattered, or in this case, collapsed in a pile and I have minutes to come up with something else that will be as good or better than what I had planned. It is a very alive moment.
As it turned out, Plan B is a good thing. The lighting, which was not working for me as a ceiling piece is now a floor piece (see, physics again - don't fight gravity!) and it is doing exactly what I had hoped. The bladders, which would have been a funky ceiling are also now on the floor and they make better sense there. I am really liking it.
My handspun, hand knit piece that was the start of this whole thing is just one element of many. It is doing what I want it to do but it isn't really the main focal point. As I look back at what I had wished for when I looked at those Richard Serra drawings - that they weren't so reflective of the light from the oil stick - I see that my knit piece has succeeded. It is like a black hole, absorbing all the light and creating an infinite space. Does it matter that I spun the wool, or even if it is wool at all? I honestly don't know. If you only look at the end results, then I really don't know. Maybe some other material would have the same effect. But it does matter to me because it is what I needed to do in order to get from my starting place in the Metropolitan Museum in 2011 to bkbx gallery in 2015. When looked at from that perspective, then I think you can safely say that the answer is yes.
(Pictures are coming!)
But no installation goes smoothly the whole way through - I think it is some law of physics or something - and TSITCASAA is no exception. Yesterday, as the Head Installer and I struggled to put up the lights and the bladders as the ceiling of the space that I have created, it became clear that it was not going to work. It became clear when the whole thing fell to the ground just as we were about to congratulate ourselves on overcoming gravity through a combination of nails and packing tape. The thing lay on the ground in a pile and I looked at Finn and said, "I think it is time for Plan B." He said, "Do you have a Plan B?"
The answer was no but I quickly invented one. To be honest, it is these moments where art happens for me. The vision of What It Should Look Like has been shattered, or in this case, collapsed in a pile and I have minutes to come up with something else that will be as good or better than what I had planned. It is a very alive moment.
As it turned out, Plan B is a good thing. The lighting, which was not working for me as a ceiling piece is now a floor piece (see, physics again - don't fight gravity!) and it is doing exactly what I had hoped. The bladders, which would have been a funky ceiling are also now on the floor and they make better sense there. I am really liking it.
My handspun, hand knit piece that was the start of this whole thing is just one element of many. It is doing what I want it to do but it isn't really the main focal point. As I look back at what I had wished for when I looked at those Richard Serra drawings - that they weren't so reflective of the light from the oil stick - I see that my knit piece has succeeded. It is like a black hole, absorbing all the light and creating an infinite space. Does it matter that I spun the wool, or even if it is wool at all? I honestly don't know. If you only look at the end results, then I really don't know. Maybe some other material would have the same effect. But it does matter to me because it is what I needed to do in order to get from my starting place in the Metropolitan Museum in 2011 to bkbx gallery in 2015. When looked at from that perspective, then I think you can safely say that the answer is yes.
(Pictures are coming!)
Saturday, February 28, 2015
To Stand in the Center and See All Around - March 6 − 29 at bkbx gallery
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| The stuff dreams are made of (for some). |
At the end of the week, I got in the space with StudioLove's head installer aka Finnian. We did a close inspection and realized that the installation could possibly be fairly straight forward. I felt my whole body exhale. We start on Monday.
Then I came home and finished the sound piece. It isn't perfect, technically, but I feel quite happy that it is conveying…something.
So, if you would to experience something, please stop by. I will be very excited to see you!
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Options
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| He's got his eyes on the prize. |
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| Many exciting and unexpected things happen when light hits mirrors. |
This is my final work week before beginning to install To Stand in the Center and See All Around. What is most clear to me is that I honestly have no idea how it going to look and if it will convey what I want it to convey until it is totally installed. Until then, la la la, I work merrily along as if it will all be just fine.
I do worry that I will get in the gallery space next week and suddenly remember some extremely important element that is missing. That sick feeling in the gut. The blood rushing to the face. If I am the only person who knows that it is "supposed to" look like, are there any mistakes? Every project I make leads to this same place. I get right up close to the presentation and I begin to doubt and to worry that the whole world will finally - finally - recognize me as the total failure that I so clearly am, capable of nothing, full of myself, the emperor's new clothes personified.
Other people stay home at night and watch Dancing with The Stars instead of putting their hearts and souls out there for all to stomp on. What's my problem that I have to go around blathering and showing off?
And more like that.
You would think that, after 30 years, it would get easier but it doesn't get easier because, each time, I am putting a new heart and soul out there. In a way, it gets more difficult because I am less convinced of my own correctness than when I was 20.
These are the direction of my thoughts as I work on the sound component of the installation - the part that I have the least amount of experience doing so, naturally, is fraught with the most doubt.
But, what the hell - it's an installation in a little space in Brooklyn. I love making it and I love sharing it. The suffering, as they say, is optional.
And I want to share this monumental photograph! Here we are, WAMER (Women Artists Meeting Eating and Reading) reunited in the most 21st Century of ways! Our artist study group is getting back together after several years' hiatus, this time with one member joining via Skype. What was most incredible about it was that we all became immediately adjusted to having her join us like that, as if it were normal or something.
Oh people, we are a funny lot!
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| A Place at the Table. |
Friday, February 20, 2015
If the Pre-Raphaelites Lived in Iceland
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| Who can say where the sweater ends? |
Also, if I am honest, that part of me that used to stay up all night and work 'til I drop seems to have left me completely. I would like to think that this is a sign of maturation and not just a growing laziness. We'll see! Photographic evidence seems to speak otherwise...
Monday, February 16, 2015
Inflatable Bladders
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| You crave them. |
The subtitle of this post is "So Much for Minimalism". Wool, fabric, mirrors and now, inflatable bladders. It is coming together.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Life is Fun!
Back in Nashville for Module #2 of yoga therapy training. Since last June we have had a two-hour class online every other week but now we are gathering back in Nashville for nine days of intensive training. This time I gave myself two days to get here after the grueling 16-hr drive last June. For better or worse, it was only 3 p.m. when I entered the state of Tennessee yesterday afternoon, and knowing that I would gain an hour when I crossed into Central Time, I called ahead and booked an extra night in my room....and continued onward. Yup, 16 hours. The last two were tough - I had to call upon all my intensive Zen training to find my focus but the joy of arrival was pretty great. And - bonus! - I have had all day today to do errands and get ready for the training that begins tomorrow morning.
There is something about doing ordinary errands in a small city - they feel like playing house. I had to mail a package so I scouted out a post office nearby to where I am staying. First - no bullet proof glass separating the staff from the customers! Second, no lines! Third, the guy actually invited me behind the counter to fill out the customs form online! See? It's like pretending to mail stuff. "That was fun! Let's do it again!" Alas, I only had one package. Then I got a latte at a busy cafe. Look! Everyone is dressed up like a hipster! How cute.
Then I went to Whole Foods. Grocery shopping is fun! I wonder if I used play money to pay for it? It felt like I did, but probably not. Whole Foods likes the real stuff.
This evening, I will go out to the pretend airport and, no doubt, find a nice, convenient parking spot that won't cost money, or not very much, and collect my friend who is coming in from LA.
Wheee!
ETA: Parking was $3.00 for 45 minutes in a space that was 30 seconds from the terminal. The trip to the airport was 20 minutes but only because it was rush hour. Normally, it is twelve. How do they live this way??
There is something about doing ordinary errands in a small city - they feel like playing house. I had to mail a package so I scouted out a post office nearby to where I am staying. First - no bullet proof glass separating the staff from the customers! Second, no lines! Third, the guy actually invited me behind the counter to fill out the customs form online! See? It's like pretending to mail stuff. "That was fun! Let's do it again!" Alas, I only had one package. Then I got a latte at a busy cafe. Look! Everyone is dressed up like a hipster! How cute.
Then I went to Whole Foods. Grocery shopping is fun! I wonder if I used play money to pay for it? It felt like I did, but probably not. Whole Foods likes the real stuff.
This evening, I will go out to the pretend airport and, no doubt, find a nice, convenient parking spot that won't cost money, or not very much, and collect my friend who is coming in from LA.
Wheee!
ETA: Parking was $3.00 for 45 minutes in a space that was 30 seconds from the terminal. The trip to the airport was 20 minutes but only because it was rush hour. Normally, it is twelve. How do they live this way??
Monday, January 26, 2015
Don't Mess with Mother Nature
New Yorkers love to panic about snow. Maybe there will be a blizzard or maybe there won't. The beauty part is that I had four appointments today and now they have all been canceled.
I have one appointment left standing.
Hello, my darling.
I have one appointment left standing.
Hello, my darling.
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| The reddish circle is from the camera, not the yarn. |
Monday, January 19, 2015
To Stand in the Center and See All Around - an Introduction
While I hate to be one of those "sorry for not blogging" kind of bloggers...I do apologize for the silence. Partly, it is because I have not taken photographs for ages so I feel badly about so many picture-less posts. And partly it is because I have been pretty flat out busy. Any extra moments have been taken up with smaller projects and being with a sick friend. It is surprising how much mental space that uses up, but it does.
All that aside, I have been working (somewhat) steadily on my project for bkbx that will be opening on March 6th. Save the date! It is called To Stand in the Center and See All Around.
The piece has been morphing in my head and under my hands. I am still very much in process of spinning and knitting the black Shetland wool. My plan, and it seems to be working, is to simply begin the process without expectations. Using the notion that textiles can become saturated with narrative, I began making the piece. I spin in silence. I spin while watching episodes of Chopped and Anthony Bourdain's Parts Unknown (a cooking theme seems to have started up). I spin while listening to dharma talks by the MRO teachers and senior students.
I also knit. I knit in my living room, on the subway, at the Temple, at the Infusion Center where my friend has her chemo. I will bring my knitting and my wheel (hey - hope springs eternal!) to Nashville in a couple of week's time. I even spent some time during Rohatsu working out the details of the installation, which wasn't exactly what I was supposed to be doing but I did it anyway.
The piece is getting bigger and it also is gathering a kind of energy. It is developing a presence that comes from everything that is being poured into it - intentional and unintentional. I want to put my finger on what, exactly, that is but I find that it can not be summed up in words. I suppose this is why it is a thing, an art object, and not a novel or essay. It has a certain vibe or buzz or mojo - or maybe prana or chi or ki, if you want to look at it that way. You can't make it happen but you can't stop it from happening either.
I also have purchased 2500 pieces of 1" mirror. These will be included in the installation, as well.
That whole Minimalist thing? Yah, not so much.
All that aside, I have been working (somewhat) steadily on my project for bkbx that will be opening on March 6th. Save the date! It is called To Stand in the Center and See All Around.
The piece has been morphing in my head and under my hands. I am still very much in process of spinning and knitting the black Shetland wool. My plan, and it seems to be working, is to simply begin the process without expectations. Using the notion that textiles can become saturated with narrative, I began making the piece. I spin in silence. I spin while watching episodes of Chopped and Anthony Bourdain's Parts Unknown (a cooking theme seems to have started up). I spin while listening to dharma talks by the MRO teachers and senior students.
I also knit. I knit in my living room, on the subway, at the Temple, at the Infusion Center where my friend has her chemo. I will bring my knitting and my wheel (hey - hope springs eternal!) to Nashville in a couple of week's time. I even spent some time during Rohatsu working out the details of the installation, which wasn't exactly what I was supposed to be doing but I did it anyway.
The piece is getting bigger and it also is gathering a kind of energy. It is developing a presence that comes from everything that is being poured into it - intentional and unintentional. I want to put my finger on what, exactly, that is but I find that it can not be summed up in words. I suppose this is why it is a thing, an art object, and not a novel or essay. It has a certain vibe or buzz or mojo - or maybe prana or chi or ki, if you want to look at it that way. You can't make it happen but you can't stop it from happening either.
I also have purchased 2500 pieces of 1" mirror. These will be included in the installation, as well.
That whole Minimalist thing? Yah, not so much.
Wednesday, January 07, 2015
Gettin' Used By It
There is a Zen koan that includes the teacher telling the student, "I use my time, you get used by it." When I hear this in my head this morning, I want to smack that Zen teacher. A bit smug, don't you think?
Extra annoying because I am really feeling each and every remaining hour I have to work on my installation for bkbx. Will they be enough? I have my 40 lbs of wool that is slowly - ever so slowly - becoming yarn that is slowly - ever so slowly - becoming knit fabric. I have 30 yds of black cotton fabric and 2500 pieces of mirror. Smells like an art installation to me!
In the end, I couldn't just make the pieces and hang them on the wall. Call it a lack of trust, but to me that was not enough to convey what I want to convey. Enter 2500 pieces of mirror. A little sparkle should bring things up a notch! Also planning some sound elements and a few other things. Plans, I got'em. And as you can see, Richard Serra was left in the dust long ago.
It's all StudioLove from here on in...
Extra annoying because I am really feeling each and every remaining hour I have to work on my installation for bkbx. Will they be enough? I have my 40 lbs of wool that is slowly - ever so slowly - becoming yarn that is slowly - ever so slowly - becoming knit fabric. I have 30 yds of black cotton fabric and 2500 pieces of mirror. Smells like an art installation to me!
In the end, I couldn't just make the pieces and hang them on the wall. Call it a lack of trust, but to me that was not enough to convey what I want to convey. Enter 2500 pieces of mirror. A little sparkle should bring things up a notch! Also planning some sound elements and a few other things. Plans, I got'em. And as you can see, Richard Serra was left in the dust long ago.
It's all StudioLove from here on in...
Monday, January 05, 2015
Being Very Un-Dude, Until You're Not
Let it be known that 2014 was the year that I made bhuja pindasana my bitch.
Do I land it every time? No. But something clicked and the thing that was so effortful and difficult suddenly became a thing of ease and joy. I have no idea why and I suppose the why of it hardly matters. One of the key components of śraddhā (loosely translated as faith) is smrti (loosely translated as memory). When one has the experience of the challenging thing becoming an easeful thing, it is not forgotten. The memory of that experience can be drawn upon at the next challenge. We create these experiences in our asana practice, which is a small thing, so we can remember them in the rest of our life, which is a big thing.
So, what's up for 2015? I think I will let go of any asana goals this year. Instead, I am resolving to take up running again. There was a time when I ran long distance - marathons even. It was not a happy time or a healthy time, even as I could run 10-12 miles/day, seven days/week. In fact, as I look back, it might have been the most unhappy time of my life. Running that crazy amount was my attempt to wrestle some control over all the things that felt so unhappy. Instead, I ended up being addicted to exercise and having eating disorder issues. Fortunately (and it was fortunate), I got injured to the point where I could not run through the pain (and believe me, I tried!). I had to take my obsessions elsewhere (hello, Ashtanga yoga!).
Despite all that history, I love running. Still, it has been tinged with this bit of toxic residue and I haven't dared to try it again - fearful that I would fall down the rabbit hole of crazy. In December, I was talking with one of my yoga teachers about engaging in other physical activities and I told her my running story. She said, "Running wasn't the problem - you bring your mind to whatever you are doing." For whatever reason, I actually heard what she was saying. Just like how bhuja pindasana suddenly felt not just possible but easy, I realized that the problem was never that running was bad or evil or would "make me" become an obsessed anorexic. I did that. To myself. And that it is possible to enjoy running just to enjoy running.
So, later today, I will take a little jog around the neighborhood. Just for fun.
Do I land it every time? No. But something clicked and the thing that was so effortful and difficult suddenly became a thing of ease and joy. I have no idea why and I suppose the why of it hardly matters. One of the key components of śraddhā (loosely translated as faith) is smrti (loosely translated as memory). When one has the experience of the challenging thing becoming an easeful thing, it is not forgotten. The memory of that experience can be drawn upon at the next challenge. We create these experiences in our asana practice, which is a small thing, so we can remember them in the rest of our life, which is a big thing.
So, what's up for 2015? I think I will let go of any asana goals this year. Instead, I am resolving to take up running again. There was a time when I ran long distance - marathons even. It was not a happy time or a healthy time, even as I could run 10-12 miles/day, seven days/week. In fact, as I look back, it might have been the most unhappy time of my life. Running that crazy amount was my attempt to wrestle some control over all the things that felt so unhappy. Instead, I ended up being addicted to exercise and having eating disorder issues. Fortunately (and it was fortunate), I got injured to the point where I could not run through the pain (and believe me, I tried!). I had to take my obsessions elsewhere (hello, Ashtanga yoga!).
Despite all that history, I love running. Still, it has been tinged with this bit of toxic residue and I haven't dared to try it again - fearful that I would fall down the rabbit hole of crazy. In December, I was talking with one of my yoga teachers about engaging in other physical activities and I told her my running story. She said, "Running wasn't the problem - you bring your mind to whatever you are doing." For whatever reason, I actually heard what she was saying. Just like how bhuja pindasana suddenly felt not just possible but easy, I realized that the problem was never that running was bad or evil or would "make me" become an obsessed anorexic. I did that. To myself. And that it is possible to enjoy running just to enjoy running.
So, later today, I will take a little jog around the neighborhood. Just for fun.
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