Its been an interesting week. I put my kid on a plane to Salt Lake City via LAX and waited on baited breath until he told me that he was picked up at the airport. I then awaited for the results of each race praying I would also get the skate by skate details out of the teenage voice instead of his fingers. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind texting, I am just not good at it on a touch-screen phone. I had one of the most enjoyable field trips of my career at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, though it did remind me of the importance of the studio work I have been neglecting lately. I spent 6 hours on the ice chasing blocks at the last short-track meet of the season on Saturday oblivious to what the rain was doing to the world outside the ice rink. Apparently all hell was breaking loose south of Newburgh, old growth toppled, utility poles snapped in half and parkways turned into boat-launches complete with ducks and other water fowl. On Sunday I wish I had gone back in for the camera when we left for NYC, as the storm damage had to be seen to be believed. I also spent 3 unexpected days at home as school was closed due to electrical outages and I actually was so overwhelmed with stuff to do that I did nothing. I guess it was relaxing. I got out and about with PODRUNNER and caught up on "Stuff you should know". I managed a bunch of time in the studio too.
So, now that the weekend is approaching and there is no meet to run to and no traveling to do, I am happy to greet the spring with sweat-equity and tend to the yard and the house and the studio... and maybe, just maybe dodge the pitchfork from the coach and get some decent miles in (time to document with blue signs included - Alison this year's tally has begun!)
Now for some college hoops!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
The Nuances of Body Language
I went to the gym after school today. I could feel a migraine brewing and came really close to bagging it. One of my colleagues actually suggested that the workout may make me feel better, and quite honestly he was right but only to a point, its a few hours later and I'm back where I started, though it was nice to have a bit of a reprieve. I'm glad I didn't bag it though. If I had I would have missed a laughable experience.
I decided to get a coffee on my way home. As I was getting back in the car this speeding object on the sidewalk caught my eye. It was a wheelchair motoring along at mow down speed, it looked like the guy was doing at least 45 MPH. It caught my eye because he hit a bump and almost flipped the thing and he nearly took out an old lady. I looked at his face. It was focused, determined, aggressive...he had the body language of a speedskater racing the race of their life. I stopped to watch him. He crossed the parking lot of Starbucks where four people leapt out of his way, then cut across the street mid-TRAFFIC mind you, nothing was stopping him. Why was he racing?
I thought about one of Kelly's entries a few months ago, and found myself trying to imagine how she would write about this. This in turn led me to yet an entirely different parody. What philosophical thoughts would be paired with this scene if it was Andrew writing? There would definitely be some sort of enlightenment. What was interesting about this is that as soon as I logged on tonight I ended up having a conversation with Andrew about this very thing.
I find myself thinking about the Olympics quite a bit this year. I am not sure if its because I have a few friends involved with the team, or if its because I know that one of them, Trevor, is having the experience of his life right now and I know how excited he must be. It gets me thinking about the persistence and determination required to make it that far. The expression on wheel-chair mans face reminded me of that development.
I delivered Chris's old slideboard to the coach that taught me about strength training today. In between my own sets I watched him as he completed a plyo workout that was quite intriguing. I could see a hint of that same intensity that I spoke about above as he proceeded to complete several reps of this circuit that contained a series of jumps, box jumps, sprints on the treadmill and medicine ball tosses. I found myself studying body language paired with the dynamics of movement. I would say that despite the pain he was in, he was generally enjoying the workout, which according to Andrew is the most important component of training (I agree). His focus was unwavering. On the other hand, I also watched several students ditching their "ab work". No one would know. I found myself wishing I had that liberty. I am embarrassed to even attempt "ab work" in front of anyone. The student's body language was entirely different, it lacked determination.
I have spent time in the gym with a colleague who is intense about his workouts to say the least. I am trying to decide where I fit on that spectrum as I push farther with each workout. I don't want to give up, yet I seem to lack some drive lately. I know that my body language speaks volumes. Maybe I need to just see the money in the bank to gain back the confidence?
I decided to get a coffee on my way home. As I was getting back in the car this speeding object on the sidewalk caught my eye. It was a wheelchair motoring along at mow down speed, it looked like the guy was doing at least 45 MPH. It caught my eye because he hit a bump and almost flipped the thing and he nearly took out an old lady. I looked at his face. It was focused, determined, aggressive...he had the body language of a speedskater racing the race of their life. I stopped to watch him. He crossed the parking lot of Starbucks where four people leapt out of his way, then cut across the street mid-TRAFFIC mind you, nothing was stopping him. Why was he racing?
I thought about one of Kelly's entries a few months ago, and found myself trying to imagine how she would write about this. This in turn led me to yet an entirely different parody. What philosophical thoughts would be paired with this scene if it was Andrew writing? There would definitely be some sort of enlightenment. What was interesting about this is that as soon as I logged on tonight I ended up having a conversation with Andrew about this very thing.
I find myself thinking about the Olympics quite a bit this year. I am not sure if its because I have a few friends involved with the team, or if its because I know that one of them, Trevor, is having the experience of his life right now and I know how excited he must be. It gets me thinking about the persistence and determination required to make it that far. The expression on wheel-chair mans face reminded me of that development.
I delivered Chris's old slideboard to the coach that taught me about strength training today. In between my own sets I watched him as he completed a plyo workout that was quite intriguing. I could see a hint of that same intensity that I spoke about above as he proceeded to complete several reps of this circuit that contained a series of jumps, box jumps, sprints on the treadmill and medicine ball tosses. I found myself studying body language paired with the dynamics of movement. I would say that despite the pain he was in, he was generally enjoying the workout, which according to Andrew is the most important component of training (I agree). His focus was unwavering. On the other hand, I also watched several students ditching their "ab work". No one would know. I found myself wishing I had that liberty. I am embarrassed to even attempt "ab work" in front of anyone. The student's body language was entirely different, it lacked determination.
I have spent time in the gym with a colleague who is intense about his workouts to say the least. I am trying to decide where I fit on that spectrum as I push farther with each workout. I don't want to give up, yet I seem to lack some drive lately. I know that my body language speaks volumes. Maybe I need to just see the money in the bank to gain back the confidence?
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
What I really meant to say...
So, this past weekend, as we endured the snow and endless drive to DC, what I was most looking forward to the Julie Child's style nurturing I would receive from Richard. He is one of the most adventurous cooks I know and the hospitality, well that is off the charts. I knew that as soon as we arrived at Richard's I would have a drink in my hand a snack in front of me and feel about as comfortable as I do in my own home, or even more so. (Is that even possible?)
What I find interesting is that I have spent the past month basking in the memories of my trip across the pond. The night before I left I had uploaded Julia and Julie to my IPOD thinking that I would need something to do in my downtime away. I never had the time to watch it.
On Sunday, I woke up at 7 AM, way before anyone else dared to stir and with the night before still very evident in my head. Richard had welcomed us the night before to the "Julia hospitality" as he proudly handed me a glass of wine. I laughed. On this particular morning however, as my head swam, I couldn't sleep. I decided to watch Julia and Julie. I felt instantly like I was in some sort of parallel universe. I actually wondered what it would be like to cook my way through a cookbook, and what is even funnier, was that I almost felt intrigued enough to try it. Except, I am not sure it would be one of Julia's books. While watching this movie, I thought about my childhood and how much I loved to cook while my mother really did not. I often turned to the book my mother was given by my grandmother, The Encyclopedia of Cooking (Given, 1959). At that time, my world consisted of the neighborhood boys thinking I was the best cook on the planet, especially when there was a homemade snack at the end of a game of flashlight tag or some other adventurous after-dark feat.
When I got a bit older, as my own cookbook collection grew. My mother eventually gave me the Given's volumes. At that time however, I was a vegetarian, and pretty much cooking my way through Nikki and David Goldbeck's American Wholefoods Cuisuine (1983). This is still the "HOLY" cookbook. Anna will most likely inherit it, despite the fact that its falling apart. As much as I enjoy a steak, I really miss being a vegetarian and wish I could take on that lifestyle once again.
On Sunday, after a breakfast out, we shopped the farmers market, and I marveled at how even here I have become the discriminating shopper. While I sit here listening to the movie FOOD INC I thank my lucky stars that the e-coli infection I suffered after the Am Cup 2 meet in December was not of the hemorrhagic variety. The pain I suffered in that week was far beyond any baby I birthed so I cannot even imagine. Last summer I decided that shopping local was important, after this experience, I have committed to it. I question every piece of lettuce I eat, cook things to oblivion and pray that eat bite will not be my last. The movie ends with this
I have been a bit road weary lately. I have traveled almost every weekend since the coaching clinic I facilitated in Morrisville in November. I wanted to go to DC this weekend. It was a diversion from the speedskating schedule. I know, I went to London which had nothing to do with ice, yet it played so heavy on my soul afterwards that my studio work has occupied every stitch of free time outside of school and Chris's training schedule. In any case I am counting the days until it is a date with my bike instead of a drive to ice. I am praying that I get through the next few weeks.
I have been in the gym every other day for a few weeks now. My body never seems to recover between sessions, I guess that is what Bud meant a few years ago when he talked about being perpetually sore? I guess the magic number of 45 has made an entrance just as he said it would, eventually. Yesterday, when all was said and done, I had had a pretty tough workout, tomorrow I go back for more. I have these goals in mind, but they just don't seem to have the same passion, even though everyone is telling me how great I look. I haven't stopped long enough to step on the scale, so quite frankly, I DON'T know, I honestly think I am too tired to care.
So what I really meant to say was that I have learned some very important lessons this season, and friends and family are at the top of the list. So is health and HAPPINESS. Passion is important, as is new life. Three of my friends are having babies soon, and while I don't wish it was me, there is still a bit of envy and wonder. One friend is getting married (or maybe I should say two), and there again the appreciation for new beginnings. Then there is the Olympics...GO Trev , go USA, and Ryan you make a really great mentor!
What I really meant to say is sentimental is EVERYTHING!
What I find interesting is that I have spent the past month basking in the memories of my trip across the pond. The night before I left I had uploaded Julia and Julie to my IPOD thinking that I would need something to do in my downtime away. I never had the time to watch it.
On Sunday, I woke up at 7 AM, way before anyone else dared to stir and with the night before still very evident in my head. Richard had welcomed us the night before to the "Julia hospitality" as he proudly handed me a glass of wine. I laughed. On this particular morning however, as my head swam, I couldn't sleep. I decided to watch Julia and Julie. I felt instantly like I was in some sort of parallel universe. I actually wondered what it would be like to cook my way through a cookbook, and what is even funnier, was that I almost felt intrigued enough to try it. Except, I am not sure it would be one of Julia's books. While watching this movie, I thought about my childhood and how much I loved to cook while my mother really did not. I often turned to the book my mother was given by my grandmother, The Encyclopedia of Cooking (Given, 1959). At that time, my world consisted of the neighborhood boys thinking I was the best cook on the planet, especially when there was a homemade snack at the end of a game of flashlight tag or some other adventurous after-dark feat.
When I got a bit older, as my own cookbook collection grew. My mother eventually gave me the Given's volumes. At that time however, I was a vegetarian, and pretty much cooking my way through Nikki and David Goldbeck's American Wholefoods Cuisuine (1983). This is still the "HOLY" cookbook. Anna will most likely inherit it, despite the fact that its falling apart. As much as I enjoy a steak, I really miss being a vegetarian and wish I could take on that lifestyle once again.
On Sunday, after a breakfast out, we shopped the farmers market, and I marveled at how even here I have become the discriminating shopper. While I sit here listening to the movie FOOD INC I thank my lucky stars that the e-coli infection I suffered after the Am Cup 2 meet in December was not of the hemorrhagic variety. The pain I suffered in that week was far beyond any baby I birthed so I cannot even imagine. Last summer I decided that shopping local was important, after this experience, I have committed to it. I question every piece of lettuce I eat, cook things to oblivion and pray that eat bite will not be my last. The movie ends with this
I have been a bit road weary lately. I have traveled almost every weekend since the coaching clinic I facilitated in Morrisville in November. I wanted to go to DC this weekend. It was a diversion from the speedskating schedule. I know, I went to London which had nothing to do with ice, yet it played so heavy on my soul afterwards that my studio work has occupied every stitch of free time outside of school and Chris's training schedule. In any case I am counting the days until it is a date with my bike instead of a drive to ice. I am praying that I get through the next few weeks.
I have been in the gym every other day for a few weeks now. My body never seems to recover between sessions, I guess that is what Bud meant a few years ago when he talked about being perpetually sore? I guess the magic number of 45 has made an entrance just as he said it would, eventually. Yesterday, when all was said and done, I had had a pretty tough workout, tomorrow I go back for more. I have these goals in mind, but they just don't seem to have the same passion, even though everyone is telling me how great I look. I haven't stopped long enough to step on the scale, so quite frankly, I DON'T know, I honestly think I am too tired to care.
So what I really meant to say was that I have learned some very important lessons this season, and friends and family are at the top of the list. So is health and HAPPINESS. Passion is important, as is new life. Three of my friends are having babies soon, and while I don't wish it was me, there is still a bit of envy and wonder. One friend is getting married (or maybe I should say two), and there again the appreciation for new beginnings. Then there is the Olympics...GO Trev , go USA, and Ryan you make a really great mentor!
What I really meant to say is sentimental is EVERYTHING!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
In the pursuit of Warriors
We drove to DC this weekend with two things in mind, home cooked Indian food with Richard and the hope of seeing some of the Emperors Warriors. As it turned out, we were the ones who were the warriors, getting there at least. Snow started to fall about 10 miles outside of Baltimore, and within 10 minutes the city of Baltimore disappeared. It took almost as long to get from Baltimore to DC as it did for us to get to Baltimore. It was crazy. People drive way TOO fast in the snow, as if they are invincible. In the span of a mile on 295 we saw 5 accidents on the southbound side and an equal number on the northbound side, which made me wonder who was off the road first and who was off the road do to rubbernecking.
We arrived at Richard's and decide to head downtown to the National Gallery via the Metro. We stopped on our walk to the train to eat some noodles at DC Noodles. As we made our way downtown I stuck my fare card in my pocket next to my phone. I figured that would be the safest place for it (maybe if I wanted to demagnetize it, rendering it useless- I had flashbacks of the London tube when KD couldn't get out) We spent about 3 hours in the National Gallery, viewing the special French Drawing exhibition, the Medieval metalwork, the Rodin and Degas sculptures, and the European paintings. We then walked the length of the Mall, which was a bit surreal in the snow, most of the landmarks disappeared until you were right on top of them. We were followed by this couple from the South and their two little kids who had never seen snow. We were tickled to here them declare that this was like a desert only it was snow. Back to Richard's for some Indian food, company, wine, ginger martinis, more wine...and a very interesting morning today.
We had originally gone to DC in hopes of viewing the Terra Cotta Warriors, but stupid me, went to buy tickets too late, they were sold out. we couldn't get in. So, after the breakfast of champions (a spanish omelet with Jalapenos, tomato juice, coffee, toast, vegimite and crackers...and tea) we set out to find something to do. We hit up the Farmers Market at Dupont Circle. After posing in front of Ghandi, and sipping more tea, Kenny and I bid Richard farewell and headed to Phili where we indulged by making a pit stop at Pat's Steaks before seeing Anna. Essentially, hangover aside, it was a glorious weekend. The pics include a seemingly random shot or two (KD and Trish these are for you, you'll appreciate the fact that the fare card was not the only technical difficulty) Some are indicative of how I felt at various times this weekend.
Next weekend- Placid again followed by a jaunt to SLC, then Milwaukee, then SLC, then Phili...I am so looking forward to Spring!
Friday, January 15, 2010
A question of faith...
I am in one of those modes where my heart pines to be in my studio 24/7 dredging up my soul. The work, when completed will speak for itself, that is if my head survives the struggle.
I went out to dinner with one of my oldest friends tonight. Its always been one of those relationships that there is never anything held back, cell phones off and guts on the table. I rarely speak about my work as I am creating it as I fear that the energy will somehow escape with the words. Tonight, I couldn't hold back, it poured out of me like a fountain. The conversation only validated what I was doing, as if he was breathing more life into it. An addition to my studio playlist was made:
Today, in the studio, two intricately carved chalices of the twelve sat on a bakers rack ready for the kiln. Two chalices that held the soul of my trip across the pond and 10 years of wrestling with my faith. Two of twelve that had a very specific question inscribed on the bottom that raised an eyebrow or two. My question is why chalices, and why 12, and why is my head spinning?
Monday, January 11, 2010
about the game of Chess
So... there is this thing about Kings, Queens, Knights (maybe in shining armor or better yet, glazed over? ), Bishops (casting off all that may or may not be evil), Rooks (reminding us of home) and then there are the PAWNS (those with the royal regalia, pomp and circumstance stuck in their heads as if it were some sort of sick joke...)
I feel like my life is a chess game lately as I try to juggle studio and sport, heartstrings and conscience (more like Catholic GUILT) and TIME.
I spent today teaching and yearning to get back into the studio to finish the goblets I started yesterday. I was blown away by the fact that my hands choreographed that form on their own yesterday. Its as if a former love had been speaking to them and leaving me out of the equation. My plan to carve the forms with details that were inspired by the insides of the cathedrals made even more sense. Today, however a new turn of events as the stems went on, they started to resemble chess pieces. How fitting. NOW WHAT?
For some reason, I can't seem to get Henry the VII out of my head. I felt like I had walked on hallowed ground at the Tower of London where he beheaded his wives. I walked on his grave in Windsor, where he was interned with one of his infant daughters (was she killed by him? how did she get there?) and then there is Catholicism thing ...
Yep, this is typical of my life as ARTIST, a virtual WAR going on between my head and my heart. I am always the bystander and always clueless as to what needs to be said until it is finished. Its a long drawn out game, not tiring, but always confusing. When I reach Check Mate...I will shed some light on babbling, until then your guess is as good as mine!
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Adventures Across the Pond
My Christmas break started with a flurry of activity. I needed to get packed, get the house ready for the holidays, and to get myself mentally prepared for the task of helping chaperoning a trip overseas. The nervous energy was enough to play with my stomach. The excitement was similar to the adrenaline rush of riding a REALLY fast paced century. (Yes Kathy, I was racking up 1 visit for every K- how many K's between here and London?)
I had every intention of bringing along the work I needed to do for my Advanced Studio assignment. I brought all the drawing supplies...but...I neglected to bring the resources I needed. No worries, I used my time wisely, and drew every chance I got. The students we were in the presence of were such and inspiration to me. They sang beautifully, and were generally interested in every aspect of the trip. I seem to have left a piece of my heart in London because of it.
The trip played with my heartstrings in many ways. My grandmother, MeMe, a concert pianist, brought us up in the classical tradition. I spent the better of my 13 years of schooling learning the piano, flute, oboe, opera, choral music, and orchestral works. In an act of dramatic rebellion I dropped it all when I got to college and have not looked back too much. I am married to a wonderful man, but sitting through concerts of this nature are not his cup of tea. This trip made me long for taking in some of those glorious outings again, heck, I found myself wishing I had a piano at home too (not that I have the time for that).
I found myself being tugged in other ways too. My faith, which I have always seen as a big part of my life, has had some new thoughts added to the mix. I have spent the past 6-8 years searching out my thoughts about religion in general. I know what I believe, but the politics of the church and my study of ancient art history (specifically Canaanite, Hellenistic Greek and Egyptian work) have made me think too much. Lets just say that the question asked in the Tower f London (would you die for your faith?), the exposure of the Roman Road at Southwark, the 1000 year old tradition old tradition of Evensong at Westminster Abbey and my extensive visits with my sketchpad in Westminster Cathedral have left my head spinning. My recent study of Baroque Art has not helped, yet, many of these paintings were done as propaganda to counter act the Reformation.
I went across the pond with the intention of working on my latest series about my faith (a series of reliquaries that contained the bits and pieces of my heart in terms of FAITH) only to find out that I am not yet ready to explore that content. I am shifting my energies to a series of cups that will contain evidence of my visit to London instead, mostly in the form of sculpted surfaces that mimic my cathedral drawings.
So, as I sit and write in a quiet house of sleeping teenagers, listening to opera, enjoying my coffee, and pondering the studio work I intend to get accomplished in a few minutes I am feeling a bit melodramatic (wait maybe that is my nature?) both excited and contemplative, and very determined to tread slowly on my own heart.
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