pics from previous post

sorry to make you click back and forth, but this is how life is right now. for more info about these pics, check the previous post.

shocking

... to me how much time has passed since my last post. and how much has not only happened but faded even from memory -- jarred by the photos i've just downloaded. like the first friday night in december fireworks that larry and i bundled up to see in poughkeepsie before heading off to synagogue for my dad's 75th birthday oneg shabbat. at the synagogue i grew up at. i'll add in links later, for now i'm just typing and trying to catch up.
working backwards: the transit strike in nyc was an amazing experience for us. larry and i are so on the side of the union politically. this strike pushes buttons for us about fairness, management vs. workers, and okay, just the state of affairs right now in the u.s. between the haves and the have nots. but like all things in life there are the idiosyncracies. we can hate bloomberg out of one side of our mouths, but a freelance gig larry has at bloomberg leaves him wanting to work there. from a corporate standpoint, it looks like people are well cared for. and that's the obvious corporate trap - i see it myself working for lauder as a freelancer even. these companies in some ways treat their employees so well, maybe it keeps them quiet.
if i'm rambling, i have to admit it's because we are celebrating larry's 55th birthday. our tradition is to make it a week. so this week is the week of larry. which means a week of dinners out, which takes the pressure off the actual birthday itself, which we spent driving home from the city, unloading the car, and getting readjusted to being home again. a nice thing. because we'd already had a few lovely evenings out in the city, we're able to nest here at home in front of the fire with home made martinis for me and a very special beer for larry.
so for photo recap -- earlier this week i was honored to be a part of la superette at exit art. it's a funky gift giving venue that tali hinkis has been putting on for a number of years, more recently with her beautiful children in tow. it is absolutely amazing to me how some women can handle it all. it's not about being superwoman, it's about being human, and a multi-armed goddess gathering everyone to your breast at once. it's beautiful and touching to see in action. and i don't mean zena action at all.
other pics shown here: a chandelier at grand central and snow scenes from the train i've ridden since i was a child, between grand central station and poughkeepsie. when i was a kid the seat were oversized and covered in velvety red. despite the commuter sized seats, the trip is still magical, whether i am headphoned and chanting, knitting or staring out the window.
here's to travel, real and imagined.

still here

A wild few weeks are coming to a close, but as usual no real respite in sight. I finish one thing only to move on to another. Although I am hopeful that the week between Xmas and New Year's may slow down to a crawl.
While searching for some old documents for a project I am working on for a client, I came across some poetry I wrote when I first started working again in New York. There's nothing quite like coming across work you haven't seen in a while. Fresh eyes come with time. And I am excited to actually upload them to my poetry blog which you can visit here.
Despite the flurry of activity - I did manage to squeeze in two beautiful outdoor excursions just after the first major snowfall of the season here in New York. Last Saturday I went snow shoeing, followed by cross country skiing on Sunday. Back to karate on Monday, I had to forgo fight class, which I was really looking forward to, due to a pulled quadracep. I keep forgetting that I'm not a kid anymore and the body needs a little downtime between excesses.
One of the odd little projects keeping me so busy was a family website, designed to celebrate each of my parents' 75th birthdays. take a look at virtualweinstein.com for a peak into my family history. and perhaps a little inspiration for your own gift giving conundrums.
Another project if you're in New York on Saturday and Sunday, December 16th and 17th, is La Superette at Exit Art. An alternative gift venue with hand made items by artists.
Also of interest because it was a muscle stretching exercise for me - another Exit Art project, called Studio Visit. 150 artists were invited to submit a 5 minute video responding to this call:
The Studio Visit will offer an intimate look into the artist’s studio - how artists work in and structure their individual, creative workspace - by presenting short videos that artists make of their own studios. The exhibition will present the public with the unique opportunity which typically only curators, critics, collectors and friends experience – going to a studio and seeing the details of how an artist creates their work.
It was completely new ground for me. I first set about writing a 60 second commercial like piece, which I then ignored in favor of taping myself working and chanting, going through my house as though showing a visitor around and just riffing on different aspects of being an artist. Frustrated with the video editing process, and a general dislike of my body and voice on tape, I returned to my original idea, which although not a literal interpretation of the call, feels truer to my vision.
With any luck, I'll be able to upload it to my website ultimately. As Larry said to me while we were trying to work out the kinks: You know what this means don't you? Now you'll be able to put video on your website.
To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm thrilled or mortified. But here's the inspiration in all this. Breaking out of our own boxes is mandatory. Scary, exciting, distasteful as it might be. I always return to my basic feeling about making art, and living life. If we do it the way children do, without any preconceived notions, and nothing but belief in ourselves -- well, that's just the whole point of being here, in these bodies, in these lives, in whatever incarnation we find ourselves. Sometimes finding our own true selves, means going outside our usual selves so we can look back in from an unusual vantage point.
At the moment all my vantage points seem particularly askew. But perhaps I can blame it all on the coming full moon. And take a certain kind of pleasure in the shake up.

catch up

I would love to be one of those bloggers who hits the keyboard every morning with new and interesting info, but I'm lucky if I can get here once a week. Not that inspiration doesn't find its way into my life more than that. By the time I'm actually in posting mode, I've been wowed more than once.
One of the moments that inspires me weekly is arriving home after a week in the city. Two hours or more in the car, and the week just recedes behind me. The weekly shuffle and constant packing and unpacking, loading and unloading gets old fast, but melts away with the warmth of the cat and the quiet of my sanctuary - the living room.
This week I came home to a package in the mail from Seido Chicago. It was the commemorative book from their 20th Anniversary Celebration in which I'd placed a small ad. Larry and I had hoped we might be able to attend, but I dropped the ball, and am so sorry I did. Reading the history of the karate school reminded me of how one person can make such a huge difference in the world. Kyoshi Nancy Lanoue, Thousand Waves' founder is an amazing woman, an amazing human being. I wish her story and the story of Thousand Waves were posted on their website for you all to read. But by following the links you can piece together enough to be inspired on your own.
For Thanksgiving, Larry and I went to the soup kitchen in Poughkeepsie, The Lunchbox, to help with their annual Thanksgiving dinner. There were more volunteers than there were diners. It's always an eye-opening and heart-wrenching experience. I'm just grateful that we've created this tradition for ourselves. And glad I can be of some small help to those less fortunate than we.
The weather itself has been an inspiration this week. Cold and clear. Nice to be bundled up at home, doing a bit of cooking, meditating, cleaning and napping, with afternoon jaunts into the woods.
I guess with Thanksgiving behind us, the holiday season has officially started. Every year I try to disconnect from its commercial overtones a bit more. Here's hoping your holidays are filled with more soul than shopping.

retreat

Last Friday I jumped in the car and drove up to Vermont for a yoga retreat with Lori Flammer, at Sky Meadow Retreat Center. Lori and I met at Omega this summer. I posted excerpts from her letters from India a few months back where she was studying Ayurveda.



In between a wonderful range of yoga sessions, ranging from restorative to intensive, we had plenty of time to wander the land, which was dusted with a few inches of freshly fallen snow. After an invigorating walk, I sat on a rock by one of the many ponds, mesmerized by the water, thin coat of ice and woody reflections.



It was wonderful to have the opportunity to spend so much time outdoors. Even though it's so accessible when I'm home for the weekends, I get so wrapped up in my many projects and laundry that I often skip the hike that I long for all week in Buttercup Sanctuary. Breathing all that fresh air and having the time to just walk and sit in nature was really restorative. As was being in the company of such an inspiring group of women, so open hearted, easy to talk with, easy to be with. Natalie, Yana and Jennie are 2nd year med students at University of Vermont. Michelle is a grad student there, who schedules labs there while she raises two young sons. Lisa is an alternative energy grad. Beckie works with at risk youth and is an amazing massage therapist. Here's a few pics of the divine yoga goddesses.




Driving home, I chanted for almost 4 straight hours, the last two of which were lit by an almost full moon. So after a little supper with Larry, I called my friend Claudia down the road, and the two of us took a lovely moon walk, a beautiful end note to a weekend of quiet contemplation and active yoga practice.

I'm still struck, three days later, and in the midst of a cold that came on fast and furious, how important it is to get away from our daily routines and immerse ourselves in nature and practices that unite our bodies and hearts. I have a tendency to deny myself the opportunities to escape and blame it on lack of time or money, but it's really so important to our well-being. I always slam head-first into my life on re-entry. Deadlines real and self imposed are always looming. But I found myself in an irritating meeting on Monday, calming breathing to myself "hum sah, hum sah" - the Sanskrit mantra of the life breath - and relaxing into the conversations swirling around me, without clinging to any outcome, just watching and listening to the universal chatter.

Lori talked about the beauty of sunset in India where this satvic time of day is honored with ceremony of puja and incense wafting through even the busiest restaurants. And though stuck in that meeting on Monday unable to begin a little ceremony of my own in the office, I hope to be able to light one of those aromatic Aveda candles that are everywhere in the office and do a little puja of my own.

Every Wednesday

I pass this sculpture of Gandhi in the southwest corner of Union Square Park. It has often offered me solace during times of emotional unrest, and reminded me of the power of peace. My google search revealed a fascinating article by Salmon Rushdie in Time Magazine.
I remember hearing someone speak about reading Gandhi's autobiography and being amazed that he was as filled with self-doubt as he was. The point of the speaker's reflection if I remember correctly was that Gandhi's doubt did not stop him. And our doubt shouldn't stop us.
I've over-simplified what was an extremely poignant thought, but it's preferable to over-complicating it, in my mind.
There are usually flowers and other offerings left at the sculpture's feet, which I imagine people must jump the gate to leave, because it's always locked.
A few weeks ago, communing with the sculpture really clarified a particularly difficult personal problem I was having. And I think it would be nice to stop throughout the day's minor turbulences and wonder what Gandhi would do in my shoes.

art and activism again

Seems to be a kind of synchronicity with art and activism.
On my way back from Exit Art's Traffic exhibition, I happenened upon a walking demonstration that had started at Union Square Park. The World Can't Wait made the news just as I was sitting down to blog.





Yesterday I wandered over to Coda Gallery down the street from where I work in Soho to see Stacy Phillips' bronze and ceramic work. I'm captivated by the figures, beads and materials she uses. Unfortunately, googling her doesn't net any info. Although the gallerist told me she originally trained as a jeweler and has a vast collection of beads.

la superette

I've just submitted Street Bling and Prayer Beads for this year's La Superette, a great art and artist's venue for the holidays. I participated in 2003 and for some reason didn't last year. Probably because of my adventures with Lyme. This year's event will be at Exit Art, which is very exciting because it's a great space, the backdrop will be amazing as Exit Art's exhibitions always are. And I love that I performed Bead Meditation there for prayingproject, and it will feel like being home again.
Larry and I saw Laurie Anderson perform The End of the Moon last night at the Bardavon in Poughkeepsie. It's an amazing piece and not at all heart-lifting, which I tend to prefer in my art as well as my life. But there were certain moments of beauty and grace in it that balance the darkness.
On Wednesday night in the city we had a chance to see Junior Mance and Virginia Mayhew at the Greenwich School of Music on Barrow Street. It was a great evening. A small performance space on the second floor of the school, with a raised platform stage. A small crowd. And amazing, absolutely amazing musicians. Larry knows Junior from back in the day at Seido. Virginia is a 3rd degree black belt. And Ed Ellington - grandson of Duke Ellington, and a kyoshi at Seido, and a jazz musician in his own right was also there.
It was a treat to have a week punctuated by art and music that are particularly poignant examples of artists on their path. We come in all shapes and sizes, with a zillion ways of expressing ourselves, and to varying degrees of commercial success in the marketplace. But in the presence of any artist, no matter how successful, one senses a connection of universal proportions. We are all vessels full of ideas and impressions that aren't really mainstream. I think it was Jung who said that artists are a society's collective unconscious. We are the dreamers and the dreams.

Water Call

Water Prayer is going to take 10,000 beads. So I'm putting out a call to invite bead submissions from around the world. I will keep a collaborator list of who has submitted beads and where they are from. I'm hoping to get a few collectives, and schools involved, as well as individual artists, crafters and anyone who has time on their hands to experience the meditative magic of making paper beads.
For bead making instructions, just google "making paper beads".
Most important: Your beads should be made of papers from consumer products that require the use of water. So no junk mail and magazines unless the paper refers to water in some way. I am using tea packages mostly, but also paper from water filters, labels from sauce jars, ferry schedules, etc.
I'd prefer to stay away from products that pollute water - so bubble baths and construction products are out - but I'm open to suggestion. Keep in mind this is an environmental project. I'm interested in increasing our awareness of water's sacredness, and that's something to meditate on while making the beads.
When you begin to realize how many of the products we use are water-related, it's overwhelming. When you begin to realize how many of those products also destroy the quality of water, you begin to think twice about using them. Chlorine bleach comes to mind.
Many of the instructions on the internet include some kind of medium that glazes the bead - but I'm not interested in beads that are using questionable chemicals. Keep it simple. Paper, white glue, string if you like (I have a few that I've wrapped string around for embellishment.)
If you're reading this and want to get involved, please drop me a comment. And I will let you know where to send the beads. This is an on-going project, so as of this date I have no deadline. But the project was proposed for an Exit Art exhibition, The Drop. So if it is accepted, which I will know in December, I will have a deadline to work towards.

loving the rain

Hmmmm. The water is still coming down and it's creating a lovely rhythm to the day. Time seems suspended. Especially as evening falls. A 3pm nap was a rare and beautiful thing. I spent most of the day working on Water Prayer, making beads from Yogi tea packets, researching some potential partnerships for exhibition and writing letters for funding and sponsorship.
I have to say the business of art thing isn't my thing. I worry a bit that the letters will remain written on my hard drive and not sent out where they can actually manifest something in the world. I realize that my propensity for dreaming takes more forms than I'm daily aware of. It is the same day dreaminess that allows me to escape the humdrum of life when it gets way too humdrum. I'm not telling - but we all have them. They are our own little secrets. Meant to stay that way. And sometimes worth a little cat got a bird in it's mouth smile. Just to keep everyone guessing.
Yesterday was Yom Kippur and I spent the day fasting and contemplating, though not in a particularly Jewish kind of way. Hindu chanting, Buddhist meditation and reading. A hot sauna. Still, time for contemplation is a blessing. By the end of the day I was burned out, with little energy or joy for even my favorite practice - chanting. But today I feel purified. Lighter of heart. And mind.

water inspiration

So many people complain about the weather. Especially rain. But the earth needs it. I discovered a few years ago, that slowing down in this weather is key. Our instinct in this fast paced world we live in, is to speed up. Run. But it doesn't keep you any dryer.
In the summer it's a bit easier to camp out on the porch, listen and watch the rain. But this time of year, the chill can be a drawback.
I've often told people who complain about winter that the key to enjoying it, is getting outside. Cross country skiing, snow shoeing, even just walking -- anything that gets your blood going fast enough to keep you warm so you can soak up some sun and fresh air.
It's true of rain too. We tend to burrow in, and lament the gloom. But taking a walk in the rain --listening to the drops on the umbrella, and the gush of waters whether in an overflowing stream or a city street -- can be a panacea. I like to sit in the car, let the windows glaze over in sheets of water and listen to the rhythm of the rain. I like to hear the wind turn the trees into showerheads. And find puddles in impossible places, like the hollow of a leaf.
It seems there's always either too much water or not enough. We only notice it's overabundance or it's lack. But I think this has been true since the beginning of time. Water is so vital to life.
I myself am even more aware of it since beginning the Water Prayer project - in which I am creating 108 prayer strands of 108 beads each, created of paper from consumer products that are water-dependant. But I like to think of the rain as a blessing, not a curse. Nature's not our enemy. And, as I'm sure, countless environmentalists can talk about much better than I can, it's precisely our attempt to control it that spins it further out of whack.
So rather than lamenting the rain and all the ways it may be putting a damper on daily life right now (not to mention the devestating effects of the recent hurricane and all the human suffering associated with it) I wonder how we can find blessings in the deluge - knowing that even what is washed away in violence makes way for rebirth and growth.

moments of realization

While I know that the trials and troubles of life are often what mold us most beautifully. Through the pain and dark night journeys of the soul we emerge into who we really are. But on a glooming Monday morning, back at the work which pays the bills and drains that soul, I have a moment of inspiration. I have spent years doing corporate work in which nothing is ever right or good enough, just as it is. But when I am working on my art, and teaching workshops, everything is just perfect exactly as it is. There is room for all of it, every aspect of it. Nothing is a redo. It's all birth and evolution. Death and reinvention. Composting and rebirth. Like the maple and birch who green and turn and fall and green and turn and fall again and again and again. The work we love is a blessing. The work we don't feels like a curse. Is it worth trying to infuse the difficult work with the essence of devotion to transform it? Or are we really meant to get down to the business of transforming ourselves and getting on with the work that is already devotion, and leave off with all this self made suffering? Is that what's at the core of this path to our hearts -- is it as easy as embracing fully who we really are? I hear the answer in the peace that settles over me. I think of Rumi: "Inside you there is an artist you do not know about... Say yes quickly, if you know, if you've known it from before the beginning of the universe". I return to the work of finding myself in the present moment.

A friend just offered these words of wisdom, garnered from a workshop she attended this weekend with Dr. Reggie Ray (www.dharmaocean.org). Don't push. Trust in whatever arises.

Bending to upright a fork that has fallen sideways in the dishwasher, a chant forms in my hands, in my heart: every moment, every movement is a prayer.

before the rains came

As promised, more pics, fewer words. Water running in a small stream and the great mother tree that I spend time sitting and meditating on in Buttercup Sanctuary, close to where I live.

torrents

Apologies for the pic-less posts of late. I will probably download some images later this evening and catch up tomorrow.
Rain is coming down in buckets, bless the deluge. The earth needs it. Unfortunately it's coming down so fast, she won't be able to soak it up as thirsty as she is, and will flood.
Is anyone else wondering what's going on around the planet? Hurricanes, earthquakes? I was kidding this morning saying it was the rapture. But I think the great mother is supremely pissed off at us for whacking everything so out of balance. We need to love her more. Worship the ground you walk on. Really, I mean it.
After a week of chanting, I'm more wound up than wound down. It breaks my heart. Breaks it wide open.
When I went over to Omega in the pouring rain today, I noticed that the title of Elisabeth Lesser's new book is "Broken Open" and it hit me in the heart, since I'd been walking around all week saying I felt like my heart was broken open, and I had no idea that was the title of her book, even though I was at the reading mid-week. (I am writing in run on sentences today.) It was just one of those synchronicities, like the poem I wrote about chanting last year around this time, which has a lot of one, one, all one's in it, and when KD's new cd All One came out, I was like, wow, how wierd. They were recording it last year right around the time I was playing with the poem, and feeling like crap because I had Lyme disease, and sad because I hadn't actually gotten to be a part of the kosmic kirtan posse.
After a Dance Your Bliss class with Rachel Fleishman, I melted down. Lay there in savasana just crying with the rain. Torrents down my checks. Heaving (heaven) chest. Silent (sacred) sobs. And I so wanted to stay with that and let it drain me out. But the moment comes and goes, everything changes in an instant. And Rachel and I headed for the sauna gabbing away.
The electric energy that has been pulsing in my body all week, nervous energy, excited energy, finally had it's outlet. Since I worked from home all week, I didn't get to karate classes, and feeling all that blocked up energy released, reminded me of what a blessing it is that I have the practice.
So many practices so little time. Those hours I spend counting the minutes at my day job just fly when I'm actually living. I really have to work on turning the day job into a practice -- a devotional practice -- something I keep thinking about when I'm not there. And seems particularly difficult to put into practice when I am.
But that's why they call it practice.

Today is the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashona, and although my actual spiritual practices lean more toward Buddhism and Hinduism, I welcome this time for contemplation. In honor of my ancestors and my parents, who still attend synagogue, I don't work, and try to remove myself as much as possible from the usual wheels of life.
Last night, as it turned out, was the first night of kirtan with Krishna Das at Omega, and as usual, my heart breaks open. It was a particularly small group: 120 people cancelled because Ram Dass wasn't going to be there due to illness.
It was just KD, Ty and a violinist, so it was really intimate and beautiful. Tonight I hope to go early and take some photos both before everyone gets there and after everyone leaves. I'm interested in exploring a bit how the space changes. It is so charged with energy during chanting, and so filled with bliss afterwards. I want to see what that looks like in a photograph if possible. How to capture it. Or what is actually reflected in the physical space.
I'm using this time to complete a piece that I've been playing around with for the last year or so. It's a chant/prayer/poem that predated the Water Prayer beads, and actually inspired them. Having written a poem about chanting, I wanted to create a strand of 108 prayer beads, and write the poem, one word per bead, upon them. The opening line is: to be one small note, rising in the throat of the universe. So written on the beads, from bottom to top, the poem rises as well.
I am now thinking that I will string the beads differently than you see here. I am toying with the idea of making a silver chain, which will contrast nicely with the paper beads. And perhaps add some small bells as well. I held the strand in my hands and to my heart while chanting last night, to imbue them with the energy of the names. The names of god being what one chants when chanting.
I am also reading Matthew Fox's "One River Many Wells" which really ties together the meditative, mystical and practical aspects of not only the world's great religions, but the spirituality of cultures from Africa to Australia, ancient and modern. It's a wonderful book to be reading at this time of year especially. I was first introduced to his work at Miriam's Well a few years ago, when I was working briefly with Susan and Richard Rosen.
I spent the afternoon communing with nature. There is an ancient tree strewn across a now dry stream bed that is wide enough to walk, sit and splay out upon, in Buttercup Sanctuary where I hike. And tried to follow some of the teachings talked about in Fox's book, sitting quietly alone.

a lull: composting time

I hardly know what to do with myself, now that I don't have a pressing deadline to meet with any of my art or jewelry. So the weekends are once again time for R&R, which leaves me feeling, well, disoriented. I know I've had this conversation with other artists before. It's composting time, that wierd uncomfortable place between projects that is actally in perfect keeping with the season at the moment.
There is so much I could be doing. Getting my house in order, cleaning up from the many piles strewn about during the past several months. But somehow this downtime leaves me feeling less and less like doing anything at all. And yet my mind is busier at times like these than when my hands are working. Total monkey mind. Even while I am chanting in my head.
I am trying to appreciate the space. Enjoy a nap. Spend more time brushing my cat. Dream while riding on the back of the motorcycle with nothing better to do than take in the breathtaking scenery and let my mind wander where it will. No matter that the additions to the house that I construct in my head will likely never break ground. Or that my resolve to clear out the house and create a less cluttered sanctuary may take years.
This is where fertility is seeded. Deep beneath the consciousness of intent and purpose. Who knows what will surface months from now because I took the time to do not much of anything today.

Two More Steps!

Got my USMLE Step 1 result finally. After suffering from weeks of intermittent intense nervousness, glad that I'm able to share this good news that I've PASSED! This is a real good moment to me..and just wanna take this chance to say a big thanks to all the people who have given me support and encouragement..REALLY appreciate them. So, two more steps to go now!=)

The Nature of the City

Today was a pilgrimage kind of day. I started out walking east along 14th Street in hopes of catching the Smithson Floating Island . (For more info visit the Whitney link which has more links and info.)
That's when I came across jelly beans and cigarette butts in the sidewalk - which struck me as visually beautiful on the one hand, and an interesting composition of poisons, age and innocence on the other.

When I got to the river at 14th Street, it was a mass of chain link fence surrounding construction, but I didn't have the energy to head down to Houston, so turned and headed north instead. Just as I did, I caught a glimpse of Floating Island through the chain link until it disappeared behind a mass of metal and construction vehicles on its northward route.
It was one of those divine moments. I had heard that one could expect to wait an hour or two for a sighting, and when I saw all the construction I figured it might not be in the cards for me today. Then as I headed a bit further north, I discovered a wonderful part of the riverside that has been refurbished south of 23rd Street. And the beauty of these pockmarked tiles, corroding into organic designs far more interesting than their original newness.


As I sat to await the return of the trees, I caught a complete dance of the barge and two tugs as the installation manuevered its way to head back down the East River.
I was really struck by the feeling of nature in the city: the water, the wind, and of course those trees floating by. The air was so clean today and smelled of ocean brine. The park closer to 23rd smelled hot and dusty like the desert; a fertile heat that reminds me of the big sky and sagebrush of the southwest.
Its amazing to have that kind of scent memory button pushed when you're in the middle - or the outer perimeter - of a major metropolitan city.
I buried my face in a stand of yellow plants just before noticing that the blossoms were filled with bees. And then stood transfixed for quite a while watching them.



Then I discovered this impossible little beach just below the concrete, inaccessible to all but eye.

Wandering my way back to the apartment across 23rd Street I was struck by the unexpected calm and quiet that comes over me after a hike in the woods. I'd been with the trees, earth, water and sky and hadn't even left the city. I'd barely even left the neighborhood.

FInished!

Pretty much all that's left to do is ship 'em out. I still have to find an appropriate box and shipping materials for the 10 premium pieces, but the 100 (+1 for good luck - I couldn't bear to recount another time, and figure out where my mistake was) limited edition Street Bling are packed and ready to go. Just have to get shipping info which I left on my computer at the office -- and take it to the post office.
I'm a little sad to be letting these all out of my hands. There are quite a few pieces that I'd love to save for myself, but since I'm down to the wire here, I wasn't even able to save a few pieces for people at the office whom I'd planned to gift with a piece in appreciation of their support.
I've documented as much as possible. One of the key things I've learned in this particular process is how much I hate photographing everything. Next time around I'll have to push up my production schedule and leave a week for photography to farm out to Larry. By the time I'm at this stage, I just want everything neatly tied up in a bundle and out of my realm of responsibility. Photographing just pushes me over the edge from love to hatred.
And I'd so much rather be in love.

more street bling

Today I started photographing, tagging and bagging the 110 pieces of Street Bling that Aveda ordered for their upcoming event in October. I am aiming to send them off by Monday at the latest.
I don't really enjoy the documentation process. Taking photographs of the pieces is problematic. Mostly because I don't have the right equipment. My digital camera is great, but gets a bit of hand shake for this kind of work. And while I once rigged a really great photo studio by setting up in a tent in the back yard (the tent provided perfect light filtration to take the glare off), in the city I'm using natural light coming in the window and trying to rig a scrim with a room divider. It's not ideal, but I do the best I can. And have decided to move on to tagging and bagging all the pieces, and perhaps photographing them once back home for the weekend. That means a bit of undoing what's already been done, but I've always said I'm process oriented. So process it will be.
It's actually been fun for me to take this a step at a time, and make my discoveries. I loved printing the tags; cutting them wasn't as satisfying. Now I am signing and numbering the tags, which is gratifying. I like repetitive actions, but find I need to break them up into smaller units. 25 or so at a time is enough to keep me joyful and moving along. Baby steps.
I still have quite a few more pieces to make, so I will still be scrambling a bit this weekend. I imagine, like getting ready for an exhibition, there's no avoiding a bit of chaos in the final preparations.

Katrina

I got this email in my inbox today, and am posting it because it was the first time I was inspired to actually get out my credit card. I've been agonizing somewhat about how best to help. I know the Red Cross is a safe bet, and I will probably send them some money and clothing as well. Habitat for Humanity is another organization who will be in there rebuilding.

ACTFORCHANGE ACTIVISM UPDATE: September 14, 2005

Political Justice for Hurricane Families

Shame on America. The horror of Katrina has revealed, not just to this nation but to the world, the growing fissures between the working poor and the ultra-rich, between African American and white citizens, between those who had the resources to get out of New Orleans and those who were left to drown.

You've given to relief. Now it's time to stand with those who were left behind to ensure that when the next Katrina hits, America does not fail the least among us. There are three ways to give.

Tell Washington: The common good depends on good government


Give now: $5 will help us put this billboard up in Grover Norquist's neighborhood


After you've given money to help evacuees with basic human needs, make a $5 donation to send a message to Washington, D.C. Our lawmakers need to know that the common good depends upon good government. Your token contribution of $5 will help us put this shocking graphic on a billboard outside of Grover Norquist's office at Americans for Tax Reform where 100 influential conservative leaders hold a weekly strategy session each Wednesday.




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Reunite families brutally separated by the haphazard and too-late evacuation

Give now: $99, $199, or $299 buys a one-way ticket to reunite a family tomorrow.


During the evacuation, mothers -- almost exclusively African American -- had to choose between remaining with older children and carrying infants to safety. Extended families boarded separate buses, unsure of their fate, only to find themselves separated by thousands of miles and trapped in shelters with no way out. Husbands and wives, parents and children, now in shelters, have to endure the continuing trauma of separation. You can reunite a family today by helping us buy one-way airline tickets which we are providing, without bureaucratic red tape, to families in shelters identified by our friends at the NAACP, ACORN and other groups on the ground.




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Help evacuees organize to demand a say in relief funds and reconstruction efforts

Give now: Don't let the government leave evacuees behind again.

As Van Jones of the Ella Baker Center puts it, the governing philosophy of the people who run our government is sink or swim for almost everybody unless you are a crony, and then different rules apply. We must act now to ensure that evacuees have a say in how resources are allocated to survivors and to protect the long-term redevelopment of New Orleans and other Gulf Coast communities from opportunistic cronyism. Corporations with close ties to those in power -- like Halliburton -- cannot be allowed to treat disaster recovery efforts as a corporate ATM. Humane treatment of survivors demands more than a handout -- it demands a sea change in politics as usual.

Make one donation to our Political Justice for Survivors fund and we'll support a range of local community-based organizations who won't pack up and leave once the media spotlight goes away. These groups include:


ACORN supports the political organizing of evacuees to get the respect they deserve from local and national political representatives and fight for humane treatment. A national network of community organizations, ACORN is headquartered in New Orleans and has been particularly hit hard by this tragedy.


New Orleans People's Committee was convened by Black community activists and organizers of color from Community Labor United. The goal of the committee is to unite evacuees to demand a role in reviewing and influencing how resources are allocated on behalf of survivors and to fight for decision-making power in the long-term redevelopment of New Orleans.


Long after the aid agencies and relief volunteers have gone, the New Orleans Network, Sparkplug Foundation, Biloxi-based Gulf Coast Community Foundation, and the Baton Rouge Area Foundation will still be working on the ground to help evacuees and the families of hurricane survivors as they forge new lives in the wake of Katrina.

the computer and the paper cutter

After my initial angst, I am now rockin' and rolling with Street Bling, having moved on from creating the pieces - well, 12 more to go I discovered last night in a recount - to making tags and figuring out packaging. So I've spent most of the weekend in front of the computer or sprawled out on the floor with the paper cutter. This is what cottage industry and life as an artist is all about.
A little help (well, lots actually) from my friend Sanae in designing the hang tag, which I've noodled into a few sizes for versatility, and I'm a step closer to pulling this project together.
Some may read the above and think: well why not figure all this out before hand? But the fact is that I've never done anything on this scale before - except perhaps getting ready for craft and art shows. And every time I do something of this nature, I get a little more experience and a little better at it. It's part of what I call "Wildcrafting Your Life" - one of the workshops in my Magic Medicine series. It's all about living and creating the way ancient peoples moved with the seasons and herds they hunted. Gathering what comes our way and choosing to focus on what's important in the moment, or season of our lives, and trusting that we need not be perfect from the get go. We will find exactly what we need. Exactly when we need it. It's always here.
Earlier in the week I got a lovely e-mail from artist Earl Bronsteen, whose work I blogged about in July. He found my post about him in a blog search engine, and is sending me a copy of his "How to Become a Famous Artist", which is available on his website as a downloadable file. It's a great read, and while working this weekend, I realized that a good deal of what I'm doing these days should qualify me as a famous artist. Much of what I'm working on is ephemeral and repetitive and made from garbage. So I'm thinking that what Earl does better than just about anyone is get his name out there by doing things like getting in touch with someone out of the blue who's blogged about him. It's given me that little moment of insight. To be your own marketing and PR person just takes a little more guts and a little less fear. Who cares what people think of us? If we are doing what we love, and putting it out there with love. That may sound a bit corny, but think about it. Why else would we be here? Why are you on the planet?

Yesterday on the motorcycle, I finally remembered to start chanting on our way back from a few errands, and had forgotten that the helmet has fabulous acoustics. (We haven't been riding all that much this summer because Larry's had a hand injury. But this time of year is really the best anyway.) Something in the way the wind wizzes by and my voice bouncing off all the cushioning causes a bounce back that sounds like I've got back up singers.
It's a great feeling. And I'm thinking we all have back up singers in our lives. We just have to hear them, feel them, trust that their presence is always with us.
Today, of course, is a day most of us will never forget. And what I remember most to be honest, is that the weather was as perfect as it's ever been. There was a dreamlike quality to the presence of day, as if it were not really possible. So beautiful and horrible at once. And this year with another large scale human tragedy so fresh in our minds, I am reminded of Joseph Campbell's famous words, paraphrased here: that we must learn to take joy in the sorrows of the world.

A multi-post

It's been a surprisingly art filled week. My walk around Soho at lunchtime on Tuesday started it off with a street art theme.
First I came across this truck with its mobile sculpture.

Then, this striking doorway with the ubiquitous OBEY posters that I pass often, but never before noticed the palms.


Across from Deitch I saw a man and woman writing on a billboard, and apparently leaving lots of Post-Its behind. (They all had MEMORY written on them.) Upon following the link scrawled on the wall, I came to the site of anonymous art.



On my way back to the office, I noticed this little bit of art in the composition of, and on a hydrant.

Wednesday I was able to take a few pics of these lovely lampshades that have been up in Washington Square Park all summer. I just love them. Especially at night when they are lit, they are a delightful bit of jewlery on the otherwise sad looking street lamps.

Tonight I went to Paulette Lust's opening at Riot. Her handpainted silks are vibrant and beautiful. My favorite was the giraffes. Their tropical feel was a perfect end of summer night's stage for her husband Gerard's new premium cachaca, Leblon, and caipirinia's expertly made by hand one at a time. This could be the next hot spirit. Also check out Paulette's other art: coffee.