**** or get off the pot

I had thought I'd only post on this blog while I'm in Santa Fe, so it's been months, during which time I've lived my New York life, teaching up in the 'burbs and navigating the subways. Life here has a choppiness that you just don't get out West. Sometimes it's pleasant, and you get into the rhythm of it, like when you're stopped in your tracks by something crazy or wonderful. Usually there are other people, many other people, watching the same thing. So as a short person, I often have to climb on something to see what the fuss is about. Like the other day, I was walking through Union Square and there was a huge crowd watching a Korean guy do interesting juggling tricks with a soccer ball. You have to give yourself a little extra time here for everything, not only because you never know when the subway will stop and you'll be sitting there for 20 minutes with no way to inform whomever you're meeting that you'll be late, but also because there are always distractions to slow you down. But at the same time, you can't arrive early for things, because that's just not cool and people will be slightly annoyed because they may not be ready.

Anyway, getting to the point, I'll be going back to Santa Fe on May 29th and will be living in my very own little HOUSE! A long boring story on how I found the house and the machinations I went through to get it and to finance it. The owner's name is remarkably and comically close to the two names of Rocky and Bullwinkle. I won't post his name because I don't want it to come up on google searches- you have to be careful about these things. And he seems like a nice guy, if a bit high strung. But the house is really sweet and he landscaped it beautifully, and I'll be enjoying all the nice things he did to it. Here is a photo of the backyard a few weeks ago, taken by my friend Rob:

So, after all these years of saying I was going to move to New Mexico, I'm actually doing it. It's a little scary for a lot of reasons. People say to me, aren't you excited? And I am, but I'm also nervous. I have an option, though, of coming back to teach next spring. It will be interesting to see how things go.

Unfortunately, the last time I went there, on spring break, I stayed in the house with very little furniture except for a bed, and I got very sick and spent the whole week in the bed, in my guest room. I had a TV that could mostly only pick up NBC and Fox. You can probably figure out which channel I watched the whole week. But I couldn't find my favorite daytime shows, the shows I watch when I'm sick- Ellen, or Oprah, or even Dr. Oz. It wasn't a fun week at all. I need to get the bad juju out of the house when I get back, and I think it may be gone anyway because Rob's construction guys worked on the place to do some renovation and get the garage converted for studio use with skylights and stuff, and also painted the inside white so it will be much brighter and cleaner looking. My neighbors on either side are a midwife and a massage therapist. Can't ask for more nurturing types! Dogs are abundant- too much so in the middle of the night I think. No noise regulations there- I don't mind the roosters but I hate the sound of dogs barking endlessly. It's always something.

I haven't made any art for four months and it's amazing how much free time you have when you're not an artist, when you're a normal person who takes time off to do whatever. Yet I was very unproductive, spending far too much time on Facebook and other internet time sucks. I'm feeling antsy to make some stuff and I'll be really happy to have a work space again. As well as being able to bike five minutes to the food co-op or go to the Chavez center.

Twenty ten

I like the sound of the year 2010. It sounds a little sci-fi, like we're really entering a new age of technological advances and space travel. Except that was really what the last decade was about, even if space travel is not really something that most people think about much. Every once in a while we hear about the space station, or the Hubble telescope, or what's going on on Mars.

And what was the last decade called? Some call it the aughts, but that really means "lack of anything" rather than zeros. The New Yorker has a piece examining this difficulty. A decade is a long time when you think about it. If I say (as I do, but only if I don't care if you know how old I am) that I was born in the 40's, it might suggest that I was around during W.W. II- but actually was born well after that was over. If you're born in the 60's, you could be the same age as our president, or you could be just barely turned 40. You could say you grew up in the 60's, and that might suggest you were born in the 50's. Anyway, it's not particularly important, except that we like to put the decade in a package that is easily described. No problem describing the 50's, 60's, 70's or 80's...but the 90's, the 00's? It's too pluralistic to make those generalizations anymore. Or maybe things just move too quickly nowadays. Maybe we should break it down into groups of five. Or maybe three, or maybe just talk about years individually. What was 2001 like? Well, it wasn't a bad year until September, and the morning of the 11th was a day of blue sky and pleasant weather. Now anything good that happened that year is obliterated by what happened later. Maybe we should just talk about months!

I'm starting the year on an optimistic note. After a slight scare that entailed a biopsy that I much rather would not have had to go through (although, like most things here, it was about as not-unpleasant as it could be) I am living into the 10's (now that does sound ridiculous) with hopefulness and energy. This past week I had a meeting at William Siegal Gallery, and it went very well. They took two pieces, and will see what kind of response they get. So everybody, tell your wealthy art-collecting friends to consider buying one, or both! The gallery, as you'll see if you look at the website, is a little unusual in that they mix ancient artifacts with contemporary work. It's really a gorgeous space, and I thought it would be an interesting context for this new body of work, which was framed beautifully by Beth the mad framer. I had such a nice meeting with the gallery director and her assistant, who is a wonderful artist himself and is a Yale MFA. We talked about the presentation, the imagery, the content, the scale...all things to consider as this work evolves. I'm really happy to get away from the constrictions of the symmetrically patterned pieces, although I may bring some of that back in at some point. For now, I'll be in New York with no studio and four classes a week to teach (involving four days of commuting) so with months of not working on this series, it may change a little when I get back to it.

I was invited to a Buddhist ceremony for New Year's eve, but I decided to go out to dinner with friends (allowed myself a margarita for celebration, and had very good fish tacos and sopapillas) then watched a movie (500 Days of Summer---eh) and fell asleep after my neighbors tooted those awful sounding plastic horns for a few minutes around midnight. My car was picked up this morning to make its journey back east, and my days here are winding down.

The lights of Christmas

This time of year is all about light, of course- since the nights are so long, and various religions celebrate light in different ways. Here in New Mexico, there is the persistent influence of Hispanic tradition, and Christmas eve is the night that the farolitos and luminarias are everywhere.

I think sometimes they are both used to describe the candle placed in sand inside a paper bag, but I looked it up and the luminaria is actually the bonfire lit outside a home on Christmas Eve. Both are meant to show Jesus where to show up, I guess. Farolitos are everywhere all winter here, in fact there are artificial electrical ones that many people put out, but they, too, are the traditional Christmas Eve decoration. On Canyon Road, where many galleries are, and the streets surrounding it, like Acequia Madre, people decorate with hundreds of farolitos and some also have luminarias burning in front. The bonfires are often of pinon, so they are very fragrant. The whole city shows up to walk around and look at the beautiful patterns of light, stopping at the bonfires to sing carols, stopping in where cider is simmering on the stove, watching "farolito balloons" being launched into the air by candle power. It's way cold, so you have to really bundle up. Luckily last night the wind was pretty still, but I had on a tank top, a thin turtleneck, a heavy sweater, my down coat, and a down vest unattractively zipped on over the coat, plus long johns, jeans, wool socks, waterproof Merrell boots I bought here, hat, neckie thing, heavy gloves. I actually did pretty well with the cold, because most of the time we were walking. It went down into the single digits last night and will for the next few nights, but the sun is out right now.

I would not have been able to take decent photos without a flash and I didn't drag my camera with me so I'm using stuff I found on the internets- and my apologies to their authors, not readily available to identify.

In this photo you can see how people make patterns with the farolitos.

This one was taken on Canyon Road.

I found myself singing rousing versions of Christmas songs, remembering every word from my days of high school choir. Back then, there was no politically correct inclusion of Chanukah songs (which would be pretty lame, anyway) or- what, Kwanzaa? Nobody had heard of that then. So yes, Come all ye faithful and behold Christ the Lord, I'm right in there with you. As a New Yorker, I was pretty amazed at the sense of openness to singing in public. At one point, a woman came over to where we were standing, singing "Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me." I only knew that one line from the song, but she kept gesticulating while she was singing, like Join In, and even though I said, I don't know the song, she seemed disappointed, like I was ruining the fun.

It was really beautiful and although there were tons of people out walking around it was all very orderly and celebratory for the most part. Always a few rowdies, but nothing to get all upset about. I wouldn't want to live in that area, beautiful as it is. First of all, it's historic, so there are numerous restrictions of what you can do with your house. And then to know, every year on Christmas eve, you have to be lighting candles and making cider for the city of Santa Fe- what if you Just Weren't In the Mood that night? Oy, I have a ways to go before feeling like I belong here.

Answers on demand

A few days ago I had a home inspector look at a house I'm considering buying. He was quite thorough, I thought- except for a few comments on the differences between men and women, which sounded kind of homonid-man-ish, I liked him. He sold his house and is currently renting until the right one comes along, which, according to him, will be outside of the county, and a few other things that I don't remember, but I had kind of stopped him by asking how he knows this, and he took out his pendulum.

Now before your mind goes in the gutter, please note the photo:

The description: You can be sure that this pendulum will help you attain a clear mind and obtain a compassionate, loving answer to any questions you may ask.

My home inspector had a quartz pendulum with a big chip broken out of it (apparently that doesn't matter.) And the way it works is, you hold the chain between your thumb and finger, and ask the pendulum a yes or no question. Usually, yes is away and towards you, and no is side to side. I was fascinated by this. Now you can't just order something online or even go to the local new age bookstore to buy one. You have to go to Las Vegas, NM, to buy one from a guy who makes them. And the pendulum chooses you, not the other way around. The way that works is you use a necklace first, and then you take it with you, and then you ask the necklace to help you find your pendulum. 

I don't have too many necklaces here, but I do have one that has a hanging thing on a chain, so I tried it at home. But it didn't seem to do much. Then I looked online and discovered that not only does the pendulum choose you, but you have to train it first. I won't go into the process, which is quite detailed. You can look it up under "dowsing." It's just like when people find water with the forked stick. How does it work? I don't know. It might be similar to the Magic Eightball. I find that to be a great source of answers: "ask again later."

High Desert Society

I was asked to a benefit for Common Cause on Sunday by a person I don't know. This is a long story I don't want to go into. Anyway, it was very interesting in a lot of ways. It was being given at a house up in the hills by a couple who have been active in politics for a while here. I don't know the whole history, but he ran for office at one point and his politics are very progressive.

So I want to describe the scene a little, because I had the distinct feeling I had wandered into a Godfather movie- like at the beginning of the first Godfather, when they were having the party at the western house and the senator was there. It was late afternoon and the sun was setting behind the mountains, which could be seen from the wrap-around windows of the house. The house was pure Santa Fe style. There was art on the walls but it was random stuff, mostly small photos or drawings or watercolors and it was hung higgley piggley. I wanted to take it all down and group them in an interesting way. There was a grand piano and a bunch of chairs set up- the hostess told me she gives piano concerts. She was lovely and natural in the way that many women are here- no makeup, hair undyed in a simple style, wearing some kind of hand-woven vest, looked like it had been made by some native person, South American maybe.

I had worn a long skirt and a red sweater, because I figured even though it was in the afternoon, people would be dressed nicely. I think there was one other woman with a skirt on and she had long hair dyed a vivid red/orange, Indian jewelry, heavy-ish makeup. When she told me her name, I asked if she was related to a crafts center in North Carolina that is quite well-known and she said yes, that the town was named after her family. Other women were wearing pants, vests, maybe a blazer here and there. It was quite a low-key crowd. The host was handsome as some white-haired male politician who are in good shape are. He was passionate when he spoke about how money and corporations are running amok in this country, and how people are being more and more dis-enfranchised by the income disparity. I was rather touched by this noblesse oblige. Well, who else is going to get things done if not the rich? His politics were definitely in the right place and I found that kind of moving.

While I listened to the CEO of Common Cause give a very stirring speech to suggest that perhaps everyone should immediately make out a check which would enable them to hire more computer geeks to work there so they can be viral and utilize Twitter and Facebook to get back on the radar screen (slightly reductive version of his shpiel) I mused upon how I would not be in the company of rich people in New York, and I enjoyed hobnobbing. They had some snacks out, but I noticed NO ONE WAS EATING ANYTHING. I ate a cookie, encouraged by the guy who brung me. It reminded me of a weird thing that happened to me when I first went to the U. of Wisconsin and wanted to pledge a sorority (I was a follower then.) At the sorority I wanted to be invited to (my roommate was a legacy there and she would soon be asked to join) I was given a cupcake to eat, or maybe a tray of cupcakes was offered to me and I took one. But I didn't have time to eat it, because they were talking to me and asking me questions. So I didn't know what to do with the cupcake- it seemed rude to throw it out, so I said I'd just take it and wrap it in a napkin. After all, this is what my grandmother did all the time! But that didn't go over too well. I wasn't asked into that sorority, and the secondary sorority didn't ask me either, because they assumed I'd pledge the other one because of my roommate. I never did join a sorority. That was a defining moment for me. I should have learned to control my sweet tooth from that experience, but I never did. Hence the cookie, one of those butter/caramel crunchy sandwich cookies with chocolate in the middle.

Snow capped mountains at sunset

Documentation

It started snowing late this afternoon and I almost decided to stay in and turn on the gas fireplace, but I coaxed myself out to hear Susan Meiselas talk about her work at SFAI. I'm so glad I did, because I wasn't that familiar with all she had done and it was fascinating, disturbing and stimulating all at once. There was a decent size crowd there and I know Lucy Lippard was there because Susan made mention of it. Also Mary Charlotte from KSFR was there with her dog. Anyway I'm getting off the point.

I was astonished at the work she'd done. She's won practically every award a photographer can win, including the MacArthur (seems I'm seeing a lot of MacArthur winners lately.) She spent a great deal of time documenting the insurgency in Nicaragua in the late 70's, and those pictures were very strong and also horrifying in some cases. Then she went back there 10 years later to find those people in the photographs and documented that in a film. Finally she recently did a project with the cultural association in Nicaragua, where she printed the photos digitally on fabric as large murals and placed them where they had originally been taken, so people could respond to them. She talked about the responsibility of the documentary photographer and about memory and how photographs show the passage of time in their breakdown, and how past and present can be brought together by documentation.

She's done other work with the Kurdish people, documenting the genocide that took place under Saddam Hussein. More recently she has created an archive of photos from Kurdistan, making copies of people's personal photos and researching who was in them. Many of this photographic material was hidden away for years. There was a lot to think about. I wondered how she can continue to believe in the inherent goodness of mankind- probably she doesn't. As I was leaving, I was invited to come to the dinner afterwards, but I decided to go home. I wanted to think about what I had seen. Besides, I'm wussy about driving in the snow despite my new tires, which so far are all they are supposed to be.