Archive for June, 2010

To B’More For Art

Wednesday, June 30th, 2010

There is a great story to be told about the value of Art to society. It does not fit in a sound byte. Art’s great story spans freedom of expression, cultural exchange, meaning, truth, beauty, voice, jobs, urban renewal and economic development. Sometimes, its plot line gets confused with entertainment and hobby. Art’s great story can seem to stray off to myth: an advisory condemning Art to being a trivial pursuit and rejection of Art as a major economic driver.

 

Imagine: you are one of more than one thousand people from the entire US of A (acknowledging new friends of the Alaska contingent) to gather for the Americans for the Arts 50th Annual Summit: Building A Vibrant Future For The Arts in America to discover, cheer and further plan to TELL the great story of Art. The place is Baltimore, Maryland on the Chesapeake Bay. 

 

You arrive at 6am Baltimore time, 3am your Seattle time. It is already 90 degrees to your Seattle 55. Delirious, and happy, you proceed to discover the Baltimore Inner Harbor and downtown on your free day. You notice many vacant stalls at Lexington Market and people loitering around there even at 9am. You keep on walking and sit on a bench in the shade in a greenbelt with sprinklers on to eat your cubed Lexington Market watermelon and read something delicious from Milton Crane’s 50 Great Short Stories. You move on to air-conditioned Caribou Coffee and listen to two old veterans telling their Vietnam War stories while East Coast corporate lackeys come and go. You see that these East Coast people have a particular ease with each other. People are cordial. In the afternoon, you venture out on the number 11 bus up Charles Street to see the Baltimore Museum of Art. Most notable for this blog, you explore works on exhibit by the Sondheim Artscape Prize: 2010 Finalists. You mentally elaborate on the idea of innovation, seeing that everyday life or bizarre creations are as good a subject of Art as any.

 

That evening, you join your Americans for the Arts (AFTA) tribe in the nick of time to get some curried ravioli from the buffet and get on the bus for John Waters: This Filthy World. John is a good talker, an individual Artist - boy of Baltimore - who’s made it beyond all expectations. The Pearlstone Theater is a bus ride away, and you borrow a pen to write in the dark of the theater. “Art meant dirty when I was young and we should keep it that way.” “Stealing was politically correct in the ‘60’s.”  Unfortunately the rest of your notes are mostly illegible, but in John’s world, that is part of the story, too.

 

The following days are a wonderfully warm whirlwind where you wear sleeveless clothes and never suffer any chill. Big names: Robert Redford, Arianna Huffington, Rocco Landesman, the new cowboy boot-wearing, Broadway theater tycoon (aka master storyteller) Chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) serenade you with their assurances and examples that ART IS IMPORTANT. Robert Redford applauds YOU for being grassroots, the driver of change. You and your colleagues stand in ovation for the Golden Boy of Film who went on to create Sundance, a forum for independent filmmaking and who testified to Congress, garnering significant funds for the NEA to be distributed in really miniscule amounts in the scheme of Federal spending that make a big difference to arts organizations: millions into grants of tens of thousands. You ponder on Rocco’s story about his insisting on interfacing with departments outside his own at the Federal level, and realize that he is doing exactly what needs to be done to bring Art into every realm it belongs and out of its isolation as Art. You feel real genuine hope that Art will live out its great story.

 

The highlight is traveling to the opening reception at the American Visionary Art Museum. Water Taxi seems good, but what is this other option… no ordinary walking tour as advertised. It is a parade with Dixieland band, tall iconic streamer bodies, stilt walkers and a chic enthusiastic parade master. Walking through the waterfront as a parade, we Arts Administrators are the focus of the Public. We see, they love it. Children jump. Adolescent boys leap into the parade and dance along. Families point and laugh together. Old julep drinkers put down their glass and pay attention. That is the power of Art: participation, sharing and social cohesion.

 

You and your colleagues finally come to a confusing realization that the very term “The Arts” pulls it out of its synergy as freedom of expression, cultural exchange, meaning, truth, beauty, voice, jobs, urban renewal and economic development. “The Arts” as a moniker places Art on its own when in fact Art truly exists within every facet of life, learning, and pursuit of happiness.  The great story of Art is really a huge tome of anthologies, perfect material for the one-minute plays of the The New York Neo-Futurists, artists in residence at Summit 2010.

Tennis Shoe

Friday, June 11th, 2010

Herold, you didn’t need my monolog last night but I had this one for you.

I grew up in the home town of Vans. Now I find out they are still the trend. In those days Vans were the cheap shoe. We went every year to the corner of Pine and Palm with Mom to accommodate our growing feet. Then they came out with cool fabrics: zig zags, orange, patterns we could not believe, my sister and I.

“Those will never go with anything!”

Mom put the kabosh on any Vans besides black or blue.

I coulda been a trendsetter, mom.

Birthday Deathday

Saturday, June 5th, 2010

Last Sunday I had a bizarre and harrowing experience. I used to live in a house at the very edge of Shell Creek. There, while gardening and taming the Creek, I heard a snap and saw the whole half of a tree fall straight down like a knife into the mud where always after it looked like a dead tree straight up and bleak as it was, and I could have been under that.

 

Last Sunday, I walked to the beach on my Carkeek Park (Shell Creek on steroids) walk/hike and coming home I heard firecrackers from the neighborhood. Then I realized it was not firecrackers. I looked for the falling tree to ID my location in relation to it, and witnessed a 30 ft alder fall 10 paces in front of me across the path. It happens very fast. Crack crack snap crack shift snap shift fall whoosh - maybe 1 minute. I climbed over it once I regained composure and a little boy came along with his father going the other way, still wondering if it was bringing any more deadly timber branches and trees with it. I climbed over it and its live branches and got moss and lichen on my pants from its trunk. It was decades old. I left the park still thinking it could have repercussions. So I know life happens fast.

Birthday (Birthday Suit) Harold – Monolog 2020

Friday, June 4th, 2010

I was never a jock sporto girl in school and I remember it was a rule that you had to go in the shower at least once during the school year. I just never broke a sweat.

 

So, I took up swimming at a gym about a year ago and thanks to the therapy of a women’s Turkish bath, I thought I’d overcome the fear and trepidation of being naked in the locker room.

 

The other day I was early on my routine of changing back to street clothes after a swim when I looked up and saw the president of our Board standing next to me.

 

“Uh, hi D-.” I said. (motions of skimpy towel to get covered) There I was as nature intended. D- cordially insisted on having a civil conversation for several minutes…

 

(motion,motion) Me: “yes, how about that strategic plan…” (motion,motion)

 

 

Thoughts Herold gave me later…

Warm ups:

Freeze Tag (via Ahsan)

Passing Focus

Superhero

Timed static walk (4 min.): everyone states 3 things others said

Le parfum du temps suspendu

Friday, June 4th, 2010

l’ideal: l’Heure Bleue (c. 1912) Le parfum suggère et impose à la fois le souvenir de celle qui le porte… pour une femme élégante, tendre, à la sensualité secrète. Brassée de fleurs suaves et délicates, enveloppée d’un souffle poudré, s’envolant vers des notes orientales, L’Heure Bleue, parfum fleuri, aromatique et très romantique, peut être qualifié de véritable chef-d’œuvre, de monument de l’histoire de la parfumerie.

La fragrance
Oriental Floral. Attachant, émouvant, envoûtant. En tête, la fragrance nous emporte dans la fraîcheur de la bergamote et l’audace de la note anisée. En cœur, l’accord œillet et le néroli nous grisent ; un peu de piquant, un peu de fraîcheur et beaucoup de sensualité. Le fond, oriental et poudré, est le plus troublant et donne à L’Heure Bleue ses effluves suaves : note poudrée d’iris et de violette, note gourmande de vanille, de benjoin et de fève tonka. Le parfum, enveloppé d’une chaleur veloutée, prend une texture si douce et si envoûtante que l’on sentirait comme un voile de soie sur la peau d’une femme.

I also like insolence: une violette triomphante