Totems to Turquoise at the Museum of Natural History

Last week, a group of indigenous leaders gave a small informal presentation at Aveda, where I work as a freelance writer. They were part of a United Nations initiative giving voice to indigenous cultures around the world to help address issues ranging from environmental to politcal abuse.

One of the presenters, Roberto Mucaro Borrero (Taino) is the Program Curator and Coordinator for Living in America, The American Indian Experience. He left a brochure, inspiring me to visit the Museum on Wednesday, my mid-week day off.

I ran into Evan Pritchard, author of Native New Yorkers and a freind. He and a freind of his were on their way to a screening of the Vikings movie at the Museum. But I had no time constraints. And it was a good thing.

The exhibition was just beautiful and although contained in a relatively small space, felt expansive. It was divided into two parallel trajectories: art and jewelry of the Northwest and Southwest.

I was particularly interested in the shamanic necklaces and amulets. Not so much the masks, but the natural objects and the way they are constructed with simple string, knots and lacing. Also a box that swung open on a hinge to reveal amulets, a solid - rather than fabric or skin - medicine pouch. I wish I had sketched while there.

I don't know if it's just age, or perhaps my continuing challenges with Lyme disease, but about half way through the exhibit my focus began to wane and I picked and chose my way thru the remainder of the exhibition, letting my eyes lead me to those things that caught my attention. I often wish exhibitions would be wordless, with a take home brochure that one could refer to at leisure. I imagine that is what catalogs are for, but this isn't the first time that I've petered out before the end of an exhibit. I think I get visually over stimulated. And I did notice that this particular exhibition had a great deal of audio as well, often conflicting, so it's possible my system just got overloaded.

In the gift shop afterwards, there was a huge book of North American Indian Jewelry and Adornment which I would just love to have for reference.

The modern masters and the ancient pieces together were incredibly profound. The video interviews with the artists were really beautifully done. Nice sound bites but intimate and inspiring. The stories about each of the artists and how they came to create their own individual styles, inspired by tradition, but breaking through to unique expressions were powerful.

Wandering my way back out to the subway, after descending the stairs, I found myself in the hall of forests where I had the sense that someday, this might be all that would be left of the natural world - reconstructions in a museum. But for the moment it was nice to feel that I was walking through the woods in the midst of the city.

visit www.amnh.org and follow the links to Totems to Turquoise.

this is not an archive

I am in the process of pulling together a submission for an open call from student curators in the Bard curatorial program.

The project is called: this is not an archive. And though I am still awaiting particulars, it sounds as if the premise is to create an archival exhbition. So the archive become active, participatory and interactive rather than static. One thinks of archives as being in the dusty back rooms of libraries, and rarely visited perhaps. By bringing the archive into the gallery, walls are broken down, doors opened, air and life left in.

I love the idea of this. And have recently been bemoaning my lack of public art activity. So I am anxious to submit and see how the exhibition is physically executed. The info so far is simple and scant: 8 1/2 x 11" file folders can be filled with actual work, reproduction, digital, video, etc. Media will be on hand for viewing the works.

I am also interested to hear more about the curators and the work they are doing.

Walking as Art

If you've been to any of my workshops, or know me at all, you know I love to hike. Being outdoors is literally the breath of fresh air that truly grounds me. Because it's been a rainy winter here in the Northeast, and Lyme continues to limit my usually boundless energy, I have been doing more walking in the city than in the country.



Blessed with a bit of post holiday down time at the office, I did a bit of surfing, and came across this amazing conference site.



Already a walking enthusiast, reading about the speakers and their work opened up my heart and head about what walking is. As I wrote to a freind: if every step and every breath I take is a work of art — well the beauty of the universe brings tears to my eyes.



This notion, and an article I read in this month's Audubon Magazine about snowflakes gave me the inspiration I needed to get outdoors on Sunday, and take a beautiful midwinter hike. The rain after the snow had created a crust thick enough to hold me - something I haven't experienced I think since I was a kid. On the trail I smelled a sweet perfume, and knew it had to have been a doe that recently passed this way. Her tracks were everywhere, and I heard her further up the hill crunching through the crust.



I'll leave you to your own musings after reading both. But just add that I'd also recently seen Kinsey, and the one thing that sticks out in my mind after seeing it, is the idea that each one of us is completely entirely unique, like the insects Kinsey first studied, and every flake of snow.

artless

I have been struggling with Lyme disease since September, which is about when my art work seems to have petered off as well. I've managed a few pieces of jewelry, and a small start on cleaning up my studio. This past week I expanded my prayer bead work by using small strips from my morning oatmeal and organic herb teas throughout the day. But perhaps more important, and a bit of an indicator that the antibiotics are kicking in -- I actually had the brain power and patience to begin building a web site. I hankered down and stayed on the line with Yahoo to get an e-commerce site set up. Now I just have to pull together words and images. But it is a start. And while I continue to hear the admonitions of naysayers in my ears - it's just my hard drive whispering - I will plow ahead with what might seem to some a disorganized effort in art career, but is the best I can manage right now.

What does this all have to do with inspiration? The challenge of being sick for a number of months brings with it life lessons and hidden blessings. I have been learning how to ask others for help - with physical things I can't manage on my own anymore, or at least for the moment. And having patience with myself in this place of more limited capabilities is giving me more patience with others. But here again, it comes back around to having more patience with myself. Caring enough about myself to slow down and be compassionate and forgiving with myself.

I question more and more the whole idea of pushing oneself all the time to do more, to do better. I am listening to my body, trying to slow down to slower than a crawl and hear what is being whispered.

Clearer and clearer it becomes that working full time in NYC is not working. And while the path is not yet clear, I have every confidence that it will be made so. Years ago my partner Larry told me a wisdom from Das Energie, that counsels to do what you are doing until you can do it no more.

Have patience with yourself. Keep doing the work you are doing until it can be done no more. And trust that you are on your path in exactly the place you are meant to be.