Read Alain de Botton

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Read this book.

And I think the share I have to share first is (from pages 64 & 65):

What, then, are the consequences of holding to a therapeutic vision of art?  Principally, the conviction that the main point of engaging with art is toe help us lead better lives - to access better versions of ourselves.  If art has such a power, it is because it is a tool that can correct or compensate for a range of psychological frailties....

1  A CORRECTIVE OF BAD MEMORY  Art makes memorable and renewable the fruits of experience.  It is a mechanism to keep precious things, and our best insights, in good condition and makes them publicly accessible.  Art banks our collective winnings. 

2  A PURVEYOR OF HOPE  Art keeps pleasant and cheering things in view.  it knows we despair too easily. 

3  A SOURCE OF DIGNIFIED SORROW  Art reminds us of the legitimate place of sorrow in a good life, so that we panic less about our difficulties and recognize them as parts of a noble existence. 

4  A BALANCING AGENT  Art encodes with unusual clarity the essence of our good qualities and holds them up before us, in a variety of media, to help rebalance our natures and direct us towards our best possibilities. 

5  A GUIDE TO SELF-KNOWLEDGE  Art can help us identify what is central to ourselves, but hard to put into words.  Much that is human is not readily available in language  We can hold up art objects and say, confusedly but importantly, 'This is me.' 

6  A GUIDE TO THE EXTENSION OF EXPERIENCE  Art is an immensely sophisticated accumulation of the experiences of others, presented to us in well-shaped and well-organized forms.  It can provide us with some of the most eloquent instances of the voices of other cultures so that an engagement with artworks stretches our notions of ourselves and our world.  At first, much of art seems merely 'other', but we can discover that it can contain ideas and attitudes that we can make our own in ways that enrich us.  Not everything we need to become better versions of ourselves is already [at hand]. 

7  A RE-SENSITIZATION TOOL  Art peels away our shell and saves us from our spoilt, habitual disregard for what is all around us.  We recover our sensitivity; we look at the old in new ways.  We are prevented from assuming that novelty and glamour are the only solutions.

Excerpted from Art As Therapy, Alain de Botton & John Armstrong.  Phaidon. pgs. 64, 65.

November happened.... I swear.

It's hard to believe, but the month of November actually happened.

It's December 1st.  I've been thinking for a few days about writing a post during the month of November (Somehow, keeping the blog current, ie: at least one post per month, seems like the "right" thing to do, but really, whatever.  Is anyone reading?  Doesn't matter.), but then, I just didn't.  I've been feeling worn out and low-down lately for a number of reasons.

Peru and Me, communing in the 1st Chakra
 garden on my last day at Willka T'ika.

I returned from Peru October 31 and hit the ground running.  Peru was fantastic.  I think I belong there.  The people are incredible, the countryside of the Sacred Valley along the Urubamba river is beautiful and rejuvinating, and the centuries old style of artesanias hit the nail on the head (for me).  I may catalog my acquisitions from the trip on this blog's next post....

Anyway, when I returned, I had this great homecoming with Christian, enjoyed the beauty and cleanliness of my home, partied late into the night with some new friends, celebrated my birthday(!!!!) ...and then, Trump was elected president.

...this seems to be the general consensus
in my neighborhood.

Wow.  Not a hoax.  For real.  I know many of my peers are deflated and feeling disoriented and wondering what the hell is going to happen now.  The month of November has been clouded over by this potentially devastating reality.  Or, we have no idea what may come of this change.  Perhaps the USA will not go down in flames.  (That's my little hopeful voice.)

mural beginnings after measuring
& chalking lines for 2 days

On the first day after that reality struck, I spent my day painting a mural on my friends, Russ and Shannon's Salon.  The exterior wall facing the alley was in pretty bad shape, so we decided, before I left for Peru, that I would paint the mural when I returned from my trip.  It was good to be outside and doing physical labor - I called it Art Labor and Heart Therapy - after the election result shock.  So I spent the next 3 days measuring and prepping to paint.  We visited our friend in Portland for a long weekend.  That was awesome because I love him and I love our other friends that we got to see there - so a little pick-me-up.  Then I worked for 3 more long days on the mural, trying to get it done before the temps of mid Nov. start to plummet.  So hard on my body!  So beautiful a result though...

The golden goodness of simple patterns, textile style on Russ Salon, 3221 East Colfax Ave. Denver, CO 80206.  I am super proud of this great, big achievement.  ...I'm also grateful for friends who trust that art and beauty matter!

Anyway, all this to say, I didn't really get to process the trip to Peru.  So much psychological and emotional shifting took place because of traveling by myself to such an awesome place, and I had some really important things to process, and I still feel like I'm hanging out in liminal space with all of it still unsettled (Run! Run-on sentence!).  Feeling unsettled always makes me feel depressed.  The cold weather of November's second half has been rough.  Thank goodness for Thanksgiving!  I needed that fun, fun time with tight friends and totally delicious, incredible, artful food.  All along, I've also been in the midst of work for our friend Caroline's new restaurant.  Christian did the architecture and we worked together on the interior finishes, much of which will be handled by my very own hands.  I'm into that.  That also means I'm missing working on my own artwork.  The cross stitch sits untouched for about 2 months now.  I find it hard to get back on that wagon - it feels like the feeling of starting a new project, like having to take the leap again.

So, if you're out there, reading this, and it occurs to you to think of me, send me some loving encouragement vibes.  I'm working really hard, but I'm not feeling the flow or just feeling good, and the lack of specificity around that issue feeds into some weird, self destructive internal thinking.
I need what the Peruvians call, Munay - "love and will."

Just makes sense to end with an image of this precious sheep, Obobo who lived where I last stayed in Peru.  He was such a comfort and a delight to me when I was alone and wasn't feeling well.  Just thinking of him makes me feel a little better.

this is not a parody

this is not a parody 

Let us all remember that this hilarious and horrifyingly entertaining show we call Donald Trump is in fact, NOT a parody.  Yes, a sociopathic, xenophobic, white supremacist is running for the highest office of our country, the United States of America.  I am, however, supremely impressed with the effects this man has on all corners of our country (to all degrees of power and media coverage, abuse and exploitation).

I am also intrigued to hear about this "trojan horse" that, apparently, a politically conservative pop news creator curated (?) managed to organize for a Brooklyn gallery.  Yes, a far right political group (of artists?) tricked a gallery into believing that their Trump show was a parody (easy to do because this all seems like a joke anyway).  As it turns out, their motives were Trojan.  Here's the original Opinion article by William Powhida in Hyperallergic:

This is not parody.  Fuck Trump.

The article is worth a read, so I hope you'll read it.  This is my favorite paragraph:

So, can parody be used effectively to shame, ridicule, and mock the status quo, the power elite, the crypto-fascists, and the oligarchs who are likely thrilled to watch the art world react in horror to the parasitic infiltration of Winrich? As Hito Steyrel observed in her essay “International Disco Latin,” “But satire as one of the traditional tools of enlightenment is not only defined by making fun. It gains its punch from who is being made fun of.” In this formulation, Winrich is not lampooning conservative collectors or Trump supporters, he’s mocking the shared progressive beliefs of the art community that embraced difference at a cultural level long ago, even if it’s economics and demographics have yet to catch up at the level of representation in galleries and exhibitions. On the other hand, perhaps Winrich has succeeded at parody. I think he has done a fine job of illuminating the mythology of Vice Magazine’s culture of white boy party privilege in a far more accurate way than I ever succeeded with a performance I did at Marlborough Gallery in 2011 titled, “POWHIDA.” Sometimes, the only thing you need for effective satire is to get out of the way and let people be themselves. In this, Wintrich’s performance has been entirely revealing, bravo <insert preferred epithet>!

William Powhida, “Fuck Trump” (2016) (image courtesy the artist)
**I swiped this image off the Hyperallergic site.  Hoping they won't care because I side with Mr. Powhida.**

Neurological

Fountain, Duchamp, 1917
Tate Modern's collection & image

It turns out that our intentions, whether making or viewing art, are what make the art.  Two hundred years ago (!) Immanuel Kant philosophized that in order to appreciate art, we have to detach our emotions from the viewing of the work and think and look critically at the formal elements of the art.  If we know that what we're looking at is art (and this is not always obvious these days), then our approach and our response to viewing the work is different than if we assume it's an everyday object.  Perhaps we thought the Duchamp urinal, titled "Fountain," was just left out temporarily while the plumber installs a new one and plans to haul away that dirty old fixture?  No, we saw it in an art gallery or a museum or in an art history text, so we knew that despite Duchamp's cutting edge use of the ready-made so easily confused with banal real life, it is art.  We thought philosophically (or were asked to) about the difference between art and the everyday object and the impactful idea of synthesizing the two.  Even "Duchamp described his intent with the piece was to shift the focus of art from physical craft to intellectual interpretation." (quoted from Wikipedia)

A new study by Dutch scientists explores this emotional connection to viewing art versus everyday life, and the finding correlates with Kant's theory.  Quoted from the lead researcher Noah van Dongen (Erasmus University, Rotterdam):

“This work suggests that when we expect to be dealing with an artwork, our brain responds differently than when we expect to be dealing with reality.  When we think we are not dealing with reality, our emotional response appears to be subdued on a neural level. This may be because of a tendency to ‘distance’ ourselves from the image, to be able to appreciate or scrutinize its shapes, colours, and composition instead of just its content. We know that our brains may have evolved with ‘hard-wired’ mechanisms that allow us to adjust our response to objects depending on the situation. What this work indicates, is that Kant’s two century old theory of aesthetics*, where he proposed that we need to emotionally distance ourselves from the artwork in order to be able to properly appreciate it, might have a neurological basis and that art could [be] useful in our quest to understand our brain, emotions, and maybe our cognition.”

Yay, art could be useful!
(laughing out loud to myself)

Here's the link to the article I read on Science Daily's site:
https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/09/160918180006.htm

I suspect most people...

I suspect most people feel similarly to Victoria Coren Mitchell, read article here, upon considering the opportunity to visit an art gallery.  She speaks frankly about the drag of standing in a gallery and thinking, "now what do I do?" or "What am I supposed to think about?"  (I'd read the article now....  It's not long, and I had a good laugh, so there's a bonus!)

These are the questions, among other frustrated comments that I've heard spoken with close friends and coworkers upon viewing art or discussing the meaning and purpose of art.  Obviously there's this cultural importance of art for which there must be a venue.  (Must there be a venue?)  I think we can at least agree that art is critical for the creative and expressive nature of the human mind, specifically some human minds that really go there (know what I mean? out there).  Of course, the out there art, just letting it all hang out, makes us feel something - perhaps disgust, surprise, regret or perhaps delight, relief or compassion, etc. etc.  I imagine that for some, it is the sudden confrontation with inexplicable human emotion that makes us dread art viewing.  On top of that, the feeling of being stupid - that most westerners fear - because we have no idea what this artist (creatively out there) or artwork is conveying.

Totally ripped this image off the original article in the Guardian.

Well, here's what I'll say to that:  Go ahead and feel whatever sudden and strong feelings come up.  Never mind judging your self or anyone for having feelings.  Allow yourself to be curious about it like you would as you wake up from a vivid dream.  As for having no idea and fearing being the stupid one that has no intelligent remark upon viewing art - oh, get over it.  Allow yourself to learn something or just not know.  There's something totally human about not knowing and as buddhism points out, not knowing is sometimes the only way to know.  Revel in the freedom of having no pretense and no presupposition.

If you haven't any interest in attending art galleries, I don't blame you.  Unfortunately, there is an off-putting stodgy feeling in many art galleries and other art venues.   However, I do hope you know an artist or two, or spend a lot of time in nature, or are creative in some way yourself because it's the terrible/wonderful aspect of death/life and ugly/beauty that can tune us into the bitter/sweet reality of our unique human experience.

Thinking about thinking

Considering how regular my blog posts were in my 20s and the gradual decline from sometimes 4 posts per month to now 1 or 2 if I even remember that I keep a blog...  it occurs to me that perhaps I have less to say.  This second third of my life marks a shift in how I think and how much I need to express, I am sure of that.  Having pushed through to an era of introversion - making art, learning piano, and generally working from home because I no longer keep a job, I am unlikely to say anything to anyone for most of my day.  I wonder about this as my art-making is also speechless, and as process is so important, it is all about being and doing.  Contemplation feels more comfortable to me and the pressure to have answers and to fill silence with entertaining commentary hardly ever exists in my life anymore.

I may be in a period of my life when I am best as a sponge for knowledge and experience as I realize how much broader the possibilities of life expand.  In fact, I think that my past outspokenness may have been more a result of wanting to sound intelligent and take on importance so as not to somehow fall behind in the big American Way.  Now I see that the American Way is just one of so many ways and I am under no obligation to participate nor exaggerate myself in order to get ahead.  Get ahead of what?  Ah, see there it is.  The competitive edge is gone.

Competition.  Wanting to be better than others in as many ways.  If I fill space with my thoughts and expressions, then I am taking that space away from you.  I have it.  You don't.  Forgive me for being so elementary, but I do think that's how it started.  So in the last three years or so, I've focused acutely on the task of self awareness and self love (starting around chaos time, 2013, with the tragic loss of 2 family members).  I think I lacked self love mostly and my self awareness skills couldn't access why.  Many realizations have taken place in this time, and this one, competition, having a competitive compulsion, had mostly fallen to "me against me."  The "never enough" scenario simply does not recognize that one already possesses the abundance of life.

And so, here I am, the sponge.  I am spending more time than ever before as an observer, as a learner, as a practitioner, and as a creator.  My day begins with a walk or a run with my sweet dog, Siga.  I have breakfast and coffee.  A day may include such introspective and quiet activities such as working on my art, reading, working in my garden, practicing Spanish, practicing piano, baking bread, various small or big cooking projects, and yoga.  Sometimes I go hiking or to the art museum.  Then I usually end the day with my husband and my dog and a comfortable winding down to bed time.  As is evident, the need to push out into the world is no longer the driving force.  Now I soak up the substance of my dreams and become who I've always wanted to be.

satisfying

Except for the mandatory ad at the beginning (skip it!), yes, it does feel good to watch this:

Must resist urge to dig out my calligraphy set from the 4th grade....

Watching ink on paper, watching a steady hand, watching color and line become a harmonious mark and composition... these things are so satisfying for me.  The same is true, for me, in watching someone run a race (I used to be a competitive runner and still run regularly) or just do something with elegant athleticism.  I also love to see the making of woven material and the construction of just about anything is a thrill.

Perhaps, at the very least, I should be making a stop action documentation of my cross stitch work.  I finished work on the left half with Christian's profile over this past week.  In beginning the profile of myself, I could document it each day and attempt to pull all the images together into a movie or slideshow.  Even if the documentation is only for myself, I will probably enjoy watching it more than I realize.
The stop action documentation of Progress Report, an artwork that I made in 2008 over 3 days' time, is still lovely to witness.