'tis the season

(photo above is of the famous author mike moran and the fearless kevmo, aka kev reid)

for those who love the holidays, the season passes too quickly.
for those who'd rather it pass quickly, the season becomes a time of difficulty and stress.
for those who are indifferent, well, i guess those people are just indifferent types.

it's in those stressful moments, that we forget about peace, with a capital letter "P." It then becomes those little things that annoy us. Let us not let things annoy us. let us not forget those other little things -- you know, the ones that bring us comfort.

may you all have those other little things, those that we call comfort & joy...

happy holidays!


Tiny Show @ StudioGallerySF

Hi Everyone,

Will be showing two little 2"x 2" paintings
Tiny Show at the StudioGallerySF, 1718A Polk Street
SF, 94109 (Am honored and a little, ahem, nervous to be showing in the presence of some very cool artists.)

particulars: tiny, small pieces under $200,
Wednesday, 11/15/06 - Sunday, 12/24/06

Saturday, November 18th, 4-8 pm
3rd Anniversary Party:
Saturday, December 9th, 4-8 pm

the link:

the brief:
"...tiny is a show of all small work, perfect for gift-giving or treating yourself. All the wall pieces are all under 7" x 7", the tabletop pieces are all small, and everything is under $200. We'll have over 200 pieces on display, and we'll bring out new pieces every day. Work from over 80 local artists will be shown, and many of our favorite artists have made pieces just for the show. A great way to get unique, handmade gifts for the holidays or find that perfect piece for yourself, and support the local arts community at the same time."

hope to see you there!


on closure

is closure like happiness? -- you know it when you feel it?
do we need some event or someone or something to help up know when something's done?

is it the same for:
love relationships?

how do we know when to stop. when it *feels* done?
or when you're tired and can't work any more.

like paintings, we don't want to overwork relationships. especially ones that make us more tired.
but sometimes we fall in love with the experience, the image, the euphoria and (selfishly?) don't want it to end,
even though we know it's best left pristine and untouched for what it is?

there are some paintings that aren't the best, but fine for what they are.
we learn from them and leave them as snapshots to our learning.

yet, there are some, we know are wonderful and fresh and want to keep working, but know we don't quite yet have
skills or ability to finish.

the best thing might be to "walk away from the canvas" until we can see the image more clearly.
the best thing is not to try to make fixes on others' advice, no matter now experienced or skilled that advice may be.

for life is what we make of it.
it is our experiences that help guide our next ventures.
the painting might call us back or stand fine on its own right.
it is for us to decide to and viewer to judge.
for this is the only way we can ever find peace of mind.


To Sell or Not to Sell, that is the question

Is there ever a point where you feel you are "selling out?"

When do you let something go?
When do you allow someone to put a price on your soul?
When do YOU put a price on your worth?

Are there some things that cannot be renumerated?

As artists, we create concepts to share with the world. In many ways, these cannot be assigned monetary value.Yet, we live in a society that likes to price and rank and subdivide and categorize.
In light of this, we struggle with when to give over our "intellectual property."
We must then ask ourselves: Will these purchasing folk nurture our intent?

Can worth be measured by sales?
Do we sell our paintings or our ideas for the opportunity to make more paintings and share more ideas?
I think this can be falsely self-fulfilling.

As someone who likes to share and engage in ideas, I find it tremendously difficult to "sell my work." (Or, is the question really that I find it tremendously difficult to let someone own my work?)
As a producer, who has worked by helping others manage their idea$, I also realize that commerce is the way we negotiate a treacherous territory of barter. Folks, this is what I'd classify as a "double bind."

I guess for me, it all comes down to the fact, that my ideas are for sale, my soul is not.
My time can be bought, but my person cannot be sold.

If money were no object, could we live our lives without such a system?
One hopes this is the case. For now, let us return to a system of worth and value rather than the barter of want and need.
One also hopes that this could save many a lot of grief.


floaters not sinkers

are you a floater or a sinker?
do you consider yourself a floater?
i do -- consider myself a floater --in the water, except then maybe, i'm not as solid as i'd hoped.
we have, here, yet another existential oxymoron.

this transitions, ackwardly so, to the issue of dense expection.
when someone is denser than i'd hoped, i wonder: what is this source of visceral aversion?
both in mass and in thought, dense is not all that appealing to me.
light and airy are things that make me feel, well, more alive.

the topic, then becomes an issue of density.

we live in a dense society -- where the "per capita" far exceeds the reasonable need for personal space.
the morning commute on the N-Judah train is a perfect sample of said "case-in-point."
it's the density (pun intended) that makes me uneasy. it is the lack of consideration which also makes me -- uneasy.
still, i refuse to believe that 3 strong guys are so impolite that they to continue to sit while their pregnant co-riders remain standing: could they possibly BE that dense?!? one hopes they are simply oblivious...would this somehow make their "dense-ness," in our already overcrowded density, more tolerable?!?

from there, from that much too cramped sardine-line sample of humanity, i get off the train -- in a tunnel. as the escalator climbs to the surface, i experience a those few blocks of city air on the way to my office. there, i sit, in a scattering of cubes whose walls are much too close and not quite high enough. it is there that i lived for the better part of my past year -- amongst a density of schedules, tensions, and nervous energy.

by the noon-hour, i'm re-"fresh"-ed (if you can call it that) by the secondary 2 blocks of downtown SF city air. (while the weather is nice out, it is on those days that i am wishing the distance from my work to my pool were just a few more blocks. but, then i remember that i'm relieved because it is i, who has created a dense efficiency in my overcrowded schedule by working-out so close to work. (whew! these words are crowding my brain.)

it is at this point in my day, i climb into a cleverly groomed underground pool whose walls have no windows for natural light nor any views to the outside. once again, on this typical day, i'm confronted by a false dense pool population. i call it " false," because it's not dense at all: three swimmers per lane does not a crowded pool make, however, because of imploding sense of overwhelm, i feel crowded.

we contrast this with a mere 1.5 years ago, when i happily tolerated 15 in my public pool just for the freedom of a swim.

here, ladies and gentleman, we have a case of relativity.
the spoils compared to the other spoils.

but the issue of feeling overcrowding does not go away. i change lanes 3 times and still find that everyone wants to share MY lane. have i become a "crowd me" magnet?
perhaps this is somehow related to the fact that i'm physically a small-er person. could it be that because i take less physical space than others on this planet that i seem to feel that i "suffer" personal overcrowding -- on the bus, in the pool, in my life. we digress...

so after all this density, namely:
the pushing-and-shoving, the mental overcrowding, the self-imposed agenda crowding,
i find a desire to remain a floater.
one tangible theory could be that there's less tangible mass in doing so.
still, i prefer to think of it as a new campaign for "less density" -- in whatever we do.


big little questions

Can someone know so little about you and know you so well?

Do you believe in genetic predisposition?
Or more apropos --- genetic projection??
Or,can we all just chalk it all up to chemistry?

Lots of questions for something that should seem to have obvious answers.

Some call it religion, others call it serendipity...
Sometimes, there are events, happenings, or people that come into our lives for no other reason than to make us question and realize that we can do nothing but know -- deep in our hearts, that they will be significant.

There are times in our lives that are so wrought with pain and then suddenly balanced with inconceivable joy that we then realize this is the reason we persist, subsist, and exist.

It is during these times when we can imagine that Fate has taken some big bucket of water, or even more specifically a cattle prod and has poked us right into the side, over and over, until we feel either the wave wash over us or some big sharp pain that makes us sit up and pay attention.

There are, indeed, times for the individual (and for the masses) that we wonder -- why events or people or things in our lives are so clearly meant to be, (clearly necessary,) and yet so
very unexplainable. These are things that come into our our lives which can be explained only *outside* of reasonable doubt. There are people whom we meet -- that we feel as if we've known sometime in our pasts or that we feel we are destined to know, for some unforeseable reason to hopefully be explained in our futures.

This is where we must once again return to our beliefs, our need to trust, or our simple instincts.
You can't force a poke, or make a wave wash over you; you can sit back and recognize the joy in doing so when it does.

Simply knowing that it's the excitement of the unknown that helps us persist.
No matter how grim, it's the potential of hope that must reside at the core of our beliefs - whatever those might be.


trusts, absolutes and greys

When does a person succumb and start to trust?
Is trust something that's a given?
Innocent until proven guilty?
Or, is trust something earned?

I think one begins to trust others when they truly begin to trust themselves.
Or, when life hands them a situation that is so clear, so bold, so obvious,
that there's nothing else to do than to come to a conclusion.

We might not know the source of the message or its meaning, but we know.

There ARE times in life when we know.
There are times when there's nothing else to do than to believe:
It is at those moments (call them epiphanies, if you will) that
one knows a piece of art is right, that a situation is right (or wrong), that one can no longer doubt.

Don't you think?


Angelou wisdom: Living Well is an Art

(a friend forwarded me the following piece from Angelou.
many who know me, will find this blog addresses many of the same issues...albeit not as eloquently.
so, i thought i'd share the real STUFF below...{this painting, entitled "favorite things," is a couple years old, from one of my first classes. the selection was made for this post because angelou addresses some of my favorite things and because sometimes it's good to return to earlier work.})

"...LIVING WELL IS AN ART which can be developed. Of course, you will
needthe basic talents to build upon: They are a love of life and ability to
take great pleasure from small offerings, an assurance that the world owes
you nothing and that every gift is exactly that, a gift. That people who
may differ from you in political stance, sexual persuasion, and racial
inheritance can be founts of fun, and if you are lucky, they can become
even convivial comrades.

BECAUSE OF THE ROUTINES we follow, we often forget that life is an
ongoing adventure. We leave our homes for work, acting and even believing that
we will reach our destinations with no unusual event startling us out of
our set expectations. The truth is we know nothing, not where our cars will
fail or when our buses will stall, whether our places of employment will be
there when we arrive, or whether, in fact, we ourselves will arrive whole and
alive at the end of our journeys. Life is pure adventure and the sooner
we realize that, the quicker we will be able to treat life as art: to
bring all our energies to each encounter, to remain flexible enough to notice and
admit when what we expected to happen did not happen. We need to
remember that we are created creative and can invent new scenarios as frequently
as they are needed."

Maya Angelou, from "Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now"


sneaky happiness

just when you think you can't have great days anymore,
one that is idyllic kinda sneaks up on you.
there are days, that just seem to go so smoothly and make you quite happy, that you wonder why we'd go through life otherwise.

i've been lucky to have a string of those days.
i think it comes with knowing some really great people and having their company fill the spaces between the muscles in your heart. i'm enriched by wonderful sights, experiences and new friends. it's always a surprise to me, how making time to be with others returns tenfold in the process of discovery.

like a good meal, or a starfilled sky, i think the best kind of happiness is the kind that sneaks up on you, and shakes your senses alive.


happy Independence day!

in celebration of our independence (personal or otherwise), happy July 4!

the photo to the left is a sculpture of my friend john cooper; he's a wonderful artist and great friend.
this piece was being shown at the marin fair 2006.
to the right of the sculpture, is a work created by cornelia nevitt who won "artist of the year!"
could not have happened to a nice person.

we had a great day at the fair with erick, marty, katrina, aaron, jay and eduardo.
this was erick's first juried show ever, and he sold a sculpture! does a friend proud.


qu'est sera sera

my "fortune" message in a dove chocolate said "don't think about it so much."
can we think too much? can we feel too much?
can we put any credence in chance or happenstance?
(what do you think? i say that in jest --truly)

whether or not you believe in "things for a reason," in "serendipity," or...not...
there's no denying that HOW we choose to respond to situations largely affects
our perceptions and equally affects others around us.

it is up for debate --whether or not WE can affect another person, or an outcome.
we'd like to believe that what we do will make a difference. some kind of difference -- in our world, or in the world at large.
i recognize that there's a trend on the rise, (with an increase rapid developing technolog, and in an increase in "interactive" design.) People believe that if we push harder or push faster, we can change our future, alter a situation or affect others. i think we've crossed past the point of no return. it IS out of control. the control is no longer ours.

there are some things that find their beauty in the magic, in the element of surprise. there are some things that must be left to destiny and hope and chance.

in light of all this, i've seen a resurgence and a need for religion, spirituality. a number of my friends my age, who are formerly self-proclaimed agnostics or atheists, have sought increased guidance, divine structure. i'm recognizing a time, in which we are all looking for reasons to explain the painful "why."

i believe this is a reflection of our times. there is a need to define a society. it is as though we are experiencing a wrinkle in our history that feels so ever much "out of control." thus,
we try to explain the painful and unexplainable.

many of us look to our own art, to our personal creativity, to divine intervention to provide us with answers.
i think there might be some beauty in knowing that there is joy to be found in the inexplainable.
in spite of world pain or sadness, there is comfort in sharing the moments with people that make us laugh, in finding colors that brighten our day, in discovering thoughts that consume us, and in knowing we'll all be okay.
the beauty comes in knowing that we don't need to look for those things; they are truly in our hearts and in our spirits.
art comes in that free and daring expression.


the essence of a spirit & stephen's passing

there are some people you know, whom you don't get to spend much time with.
they come into your life and you like them and you have an affect on each other, but
you don't ever really hang out. stephen cleary was such a person.
i spoke with stephen a couple weeks ago while he was in the midst of his treatment. we had a brief phone conversation
and then folks arrived to visit with him at the hospital. i have guilt about not being one of those visitors.
my personal solace is that i remember stephen as a strong healthy vibrant man, who was very kind to others and
often smiling. he was one of those models who really knew how to model: you could tell, that stephen
cared. he wasn't on the stand for money, he was well respected for his classic poses. he worked hard to keep his body in shape. he liked to model.

i often remember stephen would smile as he posed.
he and i met in virginia's class. she reminded me today that he would often like to take photos of the drawings.
he'd often ask permission and it'd really make the budding artists feel good about their work. he seemed like a very generous soul.
i look forward to meeting some of his family and other friends. i don't look forward to seeing his lifeless body, at the funeral, because he seemed so full of life. the irony is that as a model, you don't mind letting folks see your body, because that is not really your essence and your core. this couldn't be more true than now.

i think artists often forget that when we paint or sculpt or draw someone, it is not their bodies that we are painting, it's their essence, their spirit that we are capturing. this is why some models resonate with us more than others.

in this case, it was a pleasure to know stephen and share his spirit. this will live on, in many of us.

(drawings to be posted soon. please feel free to send me any drawings that you might have of stephen cleary, and i'll try to post)


#2 breakups and other kinds of rebounds

do you think it's possible to break up with a favorite painting? what about an acquaintance or a colleague? what about someone you work with? what about a color? what about a job? or a medium?

i'm not sure: what i do know that i definitely have rebound art.
it's just not working between me and the drawing, so i'll switch mediums and the effects of the rebound are obvious. i quickly become infatuated. it's like i've never been mad at art before.

i think one's relationship to art, can be just like one's relationships to people.
sometimes you just have to get over it, and move on.
break it off, give back all the trappings that held the two of you together, throw their clothes on the street or throw away their photos. and then, only then, can we begin to think in new ways, find new colors, new things that excite us.

as much as i try to move on, though, i still find myself loving the number 2 ticonderoga pencil. there's something just so sexy about how it shades and feels and just *is.*
i've tried others, and i still have a crush on my old #2.
and the same goes for naples yellow and indigo blue. perhaps i'll try new variations on the same shades, but there's just something about the first blush of color that's made you fall in love.



when are we THE most vulnerable?

when we know we'll be seeing someone for whom we have the greatest respect?
when people don't know who we are?
when people do know who we are, and who we've been, but not who we might become?
when people think they know whom we are, and think they know what we might not become?

i think a lot of us try to not be vulnerable.
frankly, i think it's okay to do so: i think it's okay to be open to finding new strength that comes from that vulnerability.

i found myself feeling incredibly vulnerable today.
i wasn't sure why.
the previous evening, i'd found myself in a situation that made me extremely happy, and maybe from that came the "next day" vulnerability...the "back to reality" exposure.

is vulnerability linked to confidence?
does this have anything to do with sartre's existentialism?

i'm often labeled as "too sensitive." in the strictest sense of the definition, i suppose this might be accurate.
again, i don't usually think of this as a bad thing. IMHO, i think we all need to have greater sensitivity to others.
in my mind, sensitivity differs from political correctness.

it's often viewed as a weakness in our culture to allow oneself to be vulnerable.
you hear things such as "don't let yourself be exposed," "don't succumb to weakness," "don't leave yourself wide open."
this assumes that we can't handle the outcome. it assumes that we aren't strong enough to handle any pain or discomfort that might arise from the situation.

we're taught that we shouldn't leave ourselves unguarded or unprotected.
this creates a group of people that are SO guarded, overly so?
you can't smile at each other without a level of discomfort or distrust.
we have become a society of discomfort and distrust.

i think vulnerability comes from strength.
if we're strong enough to be vulnerable, then we're strong enough to be strong.

i end this passage, in gest.
i end by posing the rhetorical, "vulnerability is humbling and it 'builds character' ...doesn't it?"

my feeling is that if you can't expose yourself to a bit of criticism, you have no business wearing the suit.


picking on the paint

some days, i just need to take it out on my canvas or pick a fight with my paints.
maybe it's because it's been a bad day, and i really don't want to fight with anyone at work or on the Muni.
and it really has nothing more to do than i have too much bottled up energy, or that i'm sad about the state of the world, or who knows...

i wonder if this stuff is better in a journal than a blog, but i figure, i promised an uncensored look into my struggles with art.

so, i try to break some color rules,paint over a nice passage, or mix colors that aren't my palette.

paint is good for this kind of outlet.

clay is a good outlet too, sometimes.
i've found, though...that this kind of wrestling usually just makes for bad sculpture.

with paint, it becomes a dance with the canvas.
it's about random expression. how do we turn renegade energy into a form of expression?

a rough segue, here:

perhaps this is what the Bay to Breakers is all about --People trying to break the rules & the conventions to discover something new about themselves or others. Like Halloween, it becomes an accepted outlet to break the rules and be acceptance. It's about finding some fun in the outrageous.

notables from my first Bay to Breakers:

•if you're going to participate, make sure they take your number at the end, or you didn't do it.
can this be true? well, i was trying to make the 3:33:33 mark (rather than the 3:33:27) and my friend Finley reached over to avoid some sharp pointy object and then there it went, the moment passed. gone. we were through the gate and no one took my number. you'd think i'd have realized this sooner, but NO, not until we'd walked another mile back to the festivities.
ah well, too late... just because no one hears the tree when it falls, doesn't mean it never fell...uhm...okay, my word against the world... so you see why i fight with paint :)
• but, i can prove i walked it....things overheard "if you could bone anyone, would it be my mom or my dad?"
and people do this year after year -- Why?!
• other things...if there's going to be much skin a-bearing...must we see you scratch that "too much information" itch?
• we spotted at least 3 young women peeing in plain sight, slightly inebriated, shouting "OMG, don't look over here!"
(surely this is a sign i'm getting old, when i don't find this overwhelmingly funny).
• upstream salmon centipedes were some of my favorite -- another clue to my personality?
• dogs continued to be the true highlight of my day?
• when high-beams mean neither ceilings nor cars.
• when "can i help you adjust that?" is not meant to be helpful.
• when the alcohol checkpoint means they're checking to see if you can give them more alcohol.
okay, i'm sure there are more, but the bus ride getting there about did me in.
alright, alright... it WAS fun, but i don't think i can take that much humanity in such large doses.

i think i'll make up with my paint.


gratitude and a nod to good people

there are some folks that come into your life -- folks that you really don't know, nor will ever really know.
you won't necessarily ever know them intimately, and somehow that seems okay, for this makes us no less grateful in calling them our friends.

there are those folks who have somehow changed us, or brought us a moment's happiness. they might have affected us by saying the right thing (or the wrong thing) at one particular moment in our lives. they might have made us smile, or looked at us in a certain way. they might be oblivious to their affect.

then, there are some people we feel as if we've known forever. people who come into our lives as members of our family. in spite of what we say to them, they'll never know their true impact. it is their kindness and goodness that restore our faith in humankind.



i spend a lot of time thinking about people and things and looking and feeling.
i then think about projects that might or might not express those things or feelings or people.
i don't think you can invent projects, i think they invent us.
kind of like the way we think, we can try to think or paint or act a certain way, but
our core beings are just that. we are drawn to certain colors, certain sounds, certain energies, certain faces.


a crabby little tale

it was a wonderful weekend.
with all the rain and the war, etc. i think we forgot what it's like to have spring weather.
a couple days off from work always helps get perspective about one's days, and how our days might best be spent.

my last couple of days were spent organizing: cleaning out the closets (figuratively and literally), doing sculpture, more sculpture, hollowing sculpture, trying to learn how to paint, trying to remember how to paint, seeing some friends' open studios, going on some great hikes. the sunshine and fresh air both make the world seem like a better place. maybe i'm too much of a nature girl, but crowded subways, air conditioned offices and too much clutter makes for boring people, (IMHO).

i think that people should live more days as if each day were their birthday; they should do things they love-- things that make them happy.

while i love to swim and to take classes, i find myself suffering the grind.
today, i changed my pace.
today was meant for a long walk around my neighborhood. before i knew it, i found myself at the beach.

it was a perfect beach day. i was surprised to find so many people out enjoying it. i wondered how these folks have been able to set up their lives so they could spend the middle of the afternoon at the beach.

the best part of this day, was that i found myself smiling.
walking along, i realized those silly dogs, who loved the waves, who loved to run and fetch ball after ball, stick after stick, just brought simple joy to my day.
as i walked further along, i spotted a little green sandcrab. he was inching along, using two of his claws at a time. he countered those with the other little middle claws. it was graceful crabwalk crawl. so i stopped to really look at him.
he was a little shy at first; he simple looked at me and blew bubbles. (perhaps he was really just breathing, but i think he was kinda flirting with me in his own little way -- i'm sure there's some sort of scientific explanation, but i prefer to just see the obvious, at moments such as this.)
so, i stooped down to watch him for a while.

slowly, he started to circle away, a sort of horseshoe pattern. i had a feeling he was trying to keep his eyes on me. (humor, me, will ya?) so, slowly i walked around to the front of his circle and held very still, keeping my eyes on him. then, he came over to check me out. i found this to be terribly endearing.
being the freak i am, i said a few little "hello's" to him. low and behold, he came right over and made a little spot for himself right up next to me, right under the very outside arch of my right shoe. i do believe it was love at first sight.

so, i held out my hand, and he climbed right aboard. now, maybe this means i need more friends in my life, but come-on, you have to admit, it was a nice little moment. he continued to blow more bubbles at me until a group of kids over. It was at this very moment the he chose to scurry up my arm, to the tip top of my shoulder, around my back, to the right shoulder blade, then to the left shoulder blade, and then to the very place, dead center in my middle of my back, where i could not reach. (clearly there's a more practical application to that yoga stretch, than i realized.) thus, i was stuck. what should i do? as much as i would have loved to take him home and have a fun little friend, i realized his place was at the beach. so, i placed him in a shallow wave; and, with a shallow wave, (pun fully intended,) i had to say goodbye.

it is my belief that this is how we should spend our days: with enough space to find the beauty and love in little things, to make new friends and find simple love.


on turning 42

"raspberry phosphate"


late summer, early autumn.
fruit, easily grown unless cut back

phosphates, effervescence.

more self-conscious
more humble
less doubt
more doubt

wrinkles, pain, hope,
mis-truths, self-truths

one's body, one's Self.

knowing strength, feeling weakness
the world

personal histories -- raspberries and phosphates

celebrate friends, celebrate love/s
mourn friends and mourn love


decisions no longer ours to make...

back to a summer of raspberry and phosphates


(tami sloan tsark 1/27/06)*

*this piece was created for the 40x40 show currently at pier 39 theatre Q, on display through 7/11/06


TMI vs. fun to know vs. NTK

When does something fall in the
"Too Much Information" category vs. the "Need to Know" or "Fun to Know?"

for instance,
fun to know: your coworker is a marathon runner
TMI: your coworker is a marathon doper.

sometimes personal information can be fun to know. it gives you new insights into the idiosyncrasies of human nature.
sometimes that information can be too personal, sometimes boring, and sometimes, just too much!

i'm sure i'm guilty of all of the above. but pondering the differences can be fun.

boring information: your friend gets her nails done 3x/wk.
even more boring: the color of the polish or the name of the woman who does them.
fun to know: why your friend needs to get her nails done so often
TMI: the details of either of the above, or worse yet, the sound of nails being clipped in the cubicle next to you.

it's lovely to hear how excited someone is about their kid's development. it's TMI to hear about little Timmy's bodily functions. worse yet, hearing about how his actions mimic his father's. i know that story is based in love, but really folks, i like to like your kids and husband. vivid imagery is best saved for the canvas. yes?

call me squeamish, disinterested, or a snob, but thought this blog needed a little more levity.
you gotta love this dog:

p.s. Happy Bday, Lisa! Happy Mother's day, Mom and to all you moms out there.

faux summer

it's funny how the sunshine just makes people SEEM happier,
everything feels a little fresher and optimistic.

i went on a hike today, after a brief visit to the Chris Gwaltney show at Robert Greene's gallery in Mill Valley.
Great show, great hike. I'm always curious how someone can paint so simply and directly with such beautiful layers and emotion. My friend, Janey, said Gwaltney's paintings seemed to have the same kind of feeling as Mitrowsky. I'd have to agree.

So, on the hike, there were several footrace runners. On my way back to the car, some more hikers were just pulling up.
They asked the race people what was going on, and what was the prize. I didn't hear which race it was, but the upshot was that there was no prize. The man beside me said "all that work, for no purse?" That comment hit a nerve with me.
Must we all have to win something, to get something, to have something in order to make something enjoyable or worth the time invested?!! Sounded to me that this man did not appreciate the journey for just that. I hear a lot of that sentiment on the subway these days. This saddens me.


twilight mystery

excitement over the anticipation of dialog.

someone posted a comment with the username "twilight."
...and so
the mystery begins.

i began to think,
was this from a person i knew? or, better, someone i wanted to know?

now l & g's ,we have on our hands here, a genuine "twilight mystery."

i'm intrigued.

a twilight mystery has been created.
it's both the element of surprise in conjunction with the mystery.
these create the intrigue: the two together.
besides, i like the way the words "twilight" and "mystery" combined,
swirl around in one's mouth & then create a slight furrow in your brow
right before,
they're about to come out from your mouth.
if nothing else, it's got a simple poetic ring.

what can i say?
... the romantic in me dies hard.

associations, comforting irony

context of an association:
the very nature of interaction can often imply a sort of relation,
between people, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, or passerby's....
whether a bond is created, often comes with the passage of time; or does it?
can connections be immediate? if so, are connections based on context, or on something more?

as i watch people relate to one another, i'm fascinated.
my questions becomes:
are interactions rooted in the unconcious, the subconscious, or in motivation?
or, do interactions grow from visceral responses?

the way in which we interact and respond to one another, can bring about many things--
unexpected joy, inherent pain, mild annoyance, or simple pleasure.
often, a key factor is rooted in the element of surprise.
when we discover something new about another person, the " unexpected" can bring upon a transition, a turning point-- when we start to look at things differently.

what draws us to others? is it the spark? the warmth? an ease about them?

it is my speculation that the strength of a friendship has less, than we think, to do with how well we get along with someone than it does with how well we connect with someone.

it's true that "familiarity breeds company," or does "familiarity breeds contempt?"

one can know someone for years and be hurt by some surprising comment or action.
inversely, you can meet a stranger and find yourself smiling for the rest of the day.

many-a friendship has been broken over things falling outside our assumptions of character, or outside an assumed knowledge or trust.

many-a friendship has been sparked when we find ourselves somehow comforted by a stranger.

many-a romance has been ignited when we discover our passions have been flamed.

the element of surprise is often the discounted factor.

it is in these times of fast-moving technology and instant communication that we sometimes discover important relations can't be pre-programmed.

it is in these times of ongoing crisis, while grasping and while reaching for tangible explanations,that we find that things can't be predicted.

in a way, it's those surprising connections in humanity that provide us with comfort.
how ironic.



one would guess that attachments would be the inverse of detachments, right?

i think we form false sense of attachment/s.
my house has become a gathering place for piles of clutter. things to which i've become attached. things i probably could live without.
but things that mark my life. photos, sentimental or inspirational. containers. paints, colors, stuff!

somehow, they fill the space that was once welcomed emptiness.
are we in a stage of "nesting?"
connotation makes me shudder, but i promised candor.

so, some things to which i think we could or should attach...


what a very strange concept -- detachment.
are there people who strive to detach?
perhaps it's just part of personality, but i don't know why folks would WANT to detach, unless it's from something offensive or painful...but still.

clearly, i struggle with the need to detach.
from caring too much about projects, or situations, or people.

there's much talk about striving for "balance"
i think you either care about something or you don't.
degree becomes a factor, no doubt.
but for me, if one feigns detachment it then becomes disingenuine.

on the commute today, there was a homeless person spouting some profanities.
verbalizing his stream of consciousness. you could see those around him detaching.
IMHO, this is a problem. I wanted to know more: Aren't we all in some way responsible for his mental illness or his unhappiness?

Idealistic or not, I think we live in a time where we need to take some responsibities for others in our community. Again, it's a matter of degree...To what end can we help? To what end must we detach to preserve our own fight and survival?



a first thought..and a few

this blog,
...borne out of a fascination for new forms of communication,

borne out of a need for the "new,"
...new types of interactions, new things to see, new people to know.

call it a search.
a recruitment, if you might, for new ways of reaching out, of dialoguing about "philosophies,"
of sharing ideas and of relating, once again, to the human spirit.

my hope?
to sustain a forum for
honest uncensored thought -- albeit self-censorship or otherwise.
(no doubt,this will be the challenge -- knowing this medium is a public one)

the goal, then, is to remove doubt.
my goal, is to toss around notions,
derived from thought or direct observation.

call them ponderings, if you might.

i endeavor to share with you,
... things, and thoughts, and ideas
... things, i hold at forefront of a moment, and more importantly, the present moment.

be they ruminations, ideas, ponderings, images, or happenings,
my goal is to speak honestly, and to write about them directly and candidly.

i hope you'll feel free to share your responses, in kind.