Milieu: Tilting at the Windmills in My Mind

My worries travel about my head on their well-worn path. Yes I understand, I thought when I came across this line in a book I’m reading. Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel. Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel…I sing to myself. The light goes out, my husband softly snores, and I lie there. Not worrying exactly. Thoughts pop into my mind and start leaping about, winding around, jutting here and spiraling there. I try unsuccessfully to contain them, erase them and chant over them. Sometimes I feel as if my mind is crackling with electricity. In the past few weeks, insomnia has returned and things can start to look bleak when you’re short on sleep.

Today though felt soothing like drinking a chocolate milkshake. It was a glorious November day, unusually warm and sunny. A cloudless sky as you can see from the photos I took on our trek across the city to Lake Michigan. The last of the leaves, sunlit and clinging to nearly bare branches, got their chance to dazzle. Watery, abstract reflections of tall buildings made me want to grab a brush and paint. And, the harbor full of abandoned boat slips looked a bit forlorn on such a warm day.

I’m contemplating our good fortune with the arrival of our granddaughter, Mia, born last Wednesday. She joins two older (barely—the oldest isn’t even three yet) brothers who have discovered that she arrived with some different equipment then they have.  If I lived near my daughter I would put my insomnia to good use and rock and sing to my sweet Mia in the middle of the night while everyone else sleeps. Like a circle in a spiral…

BOO from Beau and Spooky Memories

Boo! From Beau. My friend Florence carved this likeness of her dog.

Watching the TV series, Mad Men, can send me sauntering down memory lane. Sometimes, it’s downright spooky.  Last Sunday’s final scene of the Draper family trick-or-treating brought to mind my days of power trick-or-treating. I remember the excitement building as we waited for my Dad to get home from work so he could take us out. Pumpkins glowed on all the porches, little witches, Supermen, hobos, princesses and gypsies flooded the streets and neighbors solicited for the March of Dimes. All of us little boomers were oblivious to the outside world as we traipsed around brand new suburban blocks of brick ranch houses filling our pillowcases with goodies. The news of homes that were giving out homemade popcorn balls,  cookies or caramel apples spread like wildfire.

My Mom stayed home and handed out candy while  Dad took us on the trek that often lasted several hours as we ran from house to house, block after block after block. When we returned home, we spread newspapers on the living room floor and emptied our half-full pillowcases, eating and sorting and trading our goodies. The loot went into individual bowls that we were able to nibble from over the following days— a snack for lunch bags, after school and after dinner–until the only candy remaining in the bottom of our bowls was lollipops sans the tootsie roll centers.

Because we lived in a small town, my children experienced a similar Halloween experience to the one I had. My Dad and Mom came by to enjoy the fun. Dad got a kick out of taking the kids out, and my Mom and I oohed and ahhed over the costumes and dropped candy into outstretched bags. I didn’t fret about glass in the kids’ candy or razor blades in apples like parents in the city did.

Today in most places I think trick or treating is a very controlled event. Parents are worried and rightfully so unfortunately. At work today, there was a Halloween party for the children of employees. The office was creatively decorated, and little ones paraded by desks collecting candy as their proud parents enjoyed showing them off. One little boy, maybe about 2 years old, wore a little business suit and tie and his hair was slicked back, he was dressed as Mad Men’s Don Draper!

Without little ones around, Handsome Hunk and I have gotten sloppy about some of our holidays and Halloween is one of them. We bought a turban squash that is standing in for a pumpkin this year. Lame, I know.

But, my daughter’s due date is mid-November, maybe the little one will surprise us all by making a Halloween appearance!

What’s your favorite Halloween memory? What are you doing to celebrate this year?

She Said, He Said: Burning with Creativity

My friend, Philamonjaro, is one of the most networked, likable people I know. We worked together when I first came to Chicago, and he is responsible for introducing Handsome Hunk and me to the Burning Man experience. He’s an entrepreneur, an artist and a great friend!

Philamonjaro, how many times have you been to Burning Man?

Eleven times, 1999 was the first year. I heard about Burning Man in the fall 1996 issue of Wired magazine and wanted to go from that point on. Up until then I had been going to Bumbershoot Arts & Music Festival in downtown Seattle. In 1998 my friends, Pat & Debbie, had just come back from Burning Man (it was their honeymoon) and said they were returning the next year. I asked to go along and the rest, as they say, is history. This was the beginning of many great friendships and more fun memories than I ever could have predicted.

Other than the increasing attendance, how has BM changed over the years?

Now there’s a huge emphasis on the regional network (formed around 2003) and more year-around activities off the playa. There were barely any art cars in 1999. Much more national media coverage now, more independent DVD releases and books, more pop-culture references in TV comedy and a much broader base of attendees than just the San Francisco bay area/west coast. Burning Man is now in the pop-culture conscience. Back in 1999 it seemed like a creative incubation from the San Francisco bay area being held in the permissive wild west of Nevada.

What is it that attracts you to the event?

It’s the large-scale, collaborative outsider art that reminds me that I too can be creative even if I do not have a career as an artist. And of course the huge group of diverse friends from all over the globe, mad-science, steam-punks and fire art. It’s a festival that treats itself as a city. And the humor! Oh, and all that dust.

Has your experience evolved?

Yes, in a big way. It was very overwhelming at my first Burn. I wanted to see everything and party through the whole week. It rekindled my creative bone with a sledgehammer. The event helped me see more possibilities. Over time my participation really helped me not care about being an outsider—knowing that I have found my peeps, the crazy fringe that really isn’t as fringe as the mainstream would like us to believe. More recently it has been about community, using art as a way to share the best of what we have to offer to each other, and a certain reckless excitement about actively creating and sharing arts.

Can you remember one jaw-dropping moment that has stayed with you?

Well there are many so I’ll stick to just a few. In 2007 watching from a 1/4 mile away the Crude Awaking installation unleash god-knows how many pounds of liquid propane in a mushroom cloud of fire I conservatively estimate to have been 350-400 feet high. David Best’s Temple in 2004 was an estimated 1/4 mile long art installation. And the Temple of Gravity in 2003, plus the  story about how Burners Without Borders got started. On a subtler note, participants of all ages and walks of life come together to create a temporary community with everyone  getting along for the most part.

Any advice to someone who hasn’t gone yet but is interested?

Do it! I hear so many people say, ‘”someday I want to go,” but they don’t. There is a certain temporary quality about all the things that line up to make Burning Man happen. Just maybe it will all end—over, no more! And like a sand mandala, all the years of work will be blown away in the wind. Life is temporary, experiences are even more temporary. You may miss out one of the greatest experiments in art and community we will ever have a chance to participate in shaping. Before going, plug into your local/regional burning man community, meet people, ask questions, get involved, take a risk, start a project. It’s a year-round community and a great way to get your feet wet, er…dusty beforehand.

Anything else you want to share with us?

Burning Man is what you make it. The more you work on your projects(small or large)/gifts/preparations/costumes/camp, the more you will get out of it. Plug in to other burners in your local area, it’s generally great fun with like-minded creative people. Read the survival guide. Learn about the festival’s 10 principles. And remember, dust is a condiment.

 

Thanks Philamonjaro, regional co-contact for Chicago!  At the very least, I recommend that you checkout the Burning Man site for wonderful photos and information about the 2010 event.

Note: The Burning Man photos in this article are the property of Lia and are not the installations/projects referenced in this article. You may be able to find those photos on the Burning Man site.

Inspired by: Sparkly Rain

“Were you taking pictures in the middle of the night?” Handsome Hunk asked me this morning. “Yes,” I confessed.  I started a good book a few days ago, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Among other things, it’s about the German occupation of  Guernsey Island during WWII and is much more substantive than the title suggests. I highly recommend it. I also just finished Pat Conroy’s new book, South of Broad, and found it enjoyable too. Though, in my opinion,  it could have been better. He crammed so much into the book so rapidly, that situations that could have been more emotionally charged were just stepping-stones to the next event. But what fun to read his turn of phrase.

Anyway, back to the photos in the night. When I finished reading around 1am, I looked up and the windows in our bedroom were stunning. We have a city view and the backlit raindrops clustered on the screens looked like sparkly diamonds and made me smile. So, I took the picture above.

Rainy days have been the norm here, and it looks like they will continue through the weekend. I think I will put on some sparkly earrings, scrounge up the sparkly part of my personality that makes an appearance from time to time and try to spread some sparkle around this weekend. Bring on the bling!

Milieu: DON’T call me “Hon”

Don’t Call Me “Hon”! Does this strike a chord with anyone? People don’t know you. They may take your order at a restaurant, blow dry your hair or do your nails, weigh you in at the doctor’s or cash you out at the grocery store. Yet they call you “hon” or “sweetie.”

I imagine my hand rising to smack some sense into these people. Yet I say nothing. Maybe they mean well. Maybe they are being condescending. Maybe they are trying to feel superior. I thought it might be an age thing, someone thinks you are over 50 so  that gives them the right to use such familiar diminutives (now there’s a word I haven’t used in a while), but I just saw a Facebook post by a friend who is in her mid thirties surprised that a waiter half her age had the audacity to call her “hon.”

I work with a lot of people the ages of my children. And I sometimes am tempted to call someone I’ve developed affection for “hon.” I resist the impulse. They deserve my respect as professional co-workers. I am NOT their mother. They aren’t my little sweeties.

So what goes with this? Does it bother anyone else? Should we rise up and say something? Where are the etiquette police?

Inspired by: Hobblets

This afternoon Chicago was a city of hobblets. People who had just finished running the Chicago Marathon (32,000+ registered) were hobbling around town holding their foil blankets close against the wind.  It was a gorgeous day for running with the temperature in the mid 40s, sunshine and maybe a bit too much wind, but still better than the rain or horrid heat of previous marathons.

Handsome Hunk and I were taking books back to the library and decided to swing by the finish line where people were still pouring in at a 7-hour finish time. I watched them and welled up with tears. It’s just plain inspiring. I’ve run a 10-mile race and my husband has run two half-marathons, so we have an inkling of how gratifying it must feel to finish 26.2 miles after so many months of dedication and hard work. It’s also uplifting to see that the participants were all shapes, sizes and ages—people just like us.

I hope all the marathon runners are celebrating with their feet up, getting some well-deserved TLC and feeling very, very good about themselves.  At our house the homemade chili is simmering on our stove and my glass of wine is within arms reach. It’s a pretty terrific Sunday in the city. How did you spend your day?

Inspired by: The Berlin Reunion

Amazing. Amazing. Amazing. I would have loved to have been there to be part of this event!  Earlier this week, 1.5 million people filled the streets of Berlin, Germany to watch a  performance by France’s Royal de Luxe street theatre company titled “The Berlin Reunion” that took place over several days. Part of the celebrations of the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, the Reunion show featured two massive marionettes, the Big Giant, a deep-sea diver, and his niece, the Little Giantess.

MORE SPECTACULAR PHOTOS: The Berlin Reunion – The Big Picture – Boston.com

Artsy: I’m a Junkie

This week two of the blogs I follow feature junk. At Art Propelled, South African artist Robyn Gordon features the art of Leonardo Drew (shown in the two photos above) from Brooklyn, New York. It’s definitely worth a visit to his site to look at his work. He’s probably the king of the junk collectors, and it makes for fascinating creations.  And at artist Leslie Avon Miller’s blog, Textures, Shapes and Colors, she reminisces about her mom’s junk drawer. What’s in your junk drawer and what does it say about you?

Handsome Hunk and I are longtime junkies, picking up rusted metal shapes and other detritus that we find pleasing in some way as we walk the city or along the railroad tracks. I once flagged down the street cleaner and asked where I could get one of his big round street cleaning brushes made of thin metal strips. He said, “Just tell me where you want them and how many and I’ll bring them by.” So I did and he did. I don’t have enough room to be greedy, so I only asked for 2 of the 4 quarters that make up a big round brush. They’re lurking under other junk in a closet somewhere, I’m sure.

Several years ago, my husband erected little found object sculptures along the railroad track. One I especially liked was a triangular piece of wood he stuck in the ground topped with a pink high heel. I always wondered how a pink high heel ended up along the railroad track where we found it. A few weeks ago a neighbor remembered these little sculptures and it was fun to tell him it was my husband who created them.

Off and on I’ve used found objects in my encaustic art (a few examples below). I find it intriguing to see who’s attracted to “junk” art.  Are you a junkie?

Strip Search: Road Trip

Looking through photo albums and memorabilia of my bygone days is not a favorite pastime for me. A feeling of melancholy descends along with “what if” and “coulda shoulda” type thinking. I prefer to focus on today and anticipate future events. Still, last weekend we took a trip into my past to a small town in northern Michigan where I raised my children. Not that there weren’t  good friends and good times during those many years, but I am more of a big city gal who also craves lots of sun and warm weather, and I always was eager to move. I just feel more alive where I live now.

Why did we head north? My husband and I have wonderful friends who still live in northern Michigan and we wanted to spend some time with them. True to form, the weather did not cooperate. It rained on the way up and most of the time we were there. My expectations in this regard were few. But it was a great weekend! Lots of laughs, a few games of super scrabble, champagne, long discussions and a visit to a farm market where we ran into my ex-husband (remember I said small town)  and bought veggies to make soup— a perfect antidote to the cool, damp weather.

I also like the intimacy a road trip brings between my husband and me. It’s a time to talk without distractions. It’s another adventure together. On the way home the sun peeked through clouds to illuminate the fall color. As we neared the city I could feel the blood start to flow through my veins again. There’s no place like home. We look forward to seeing our friends again soon—in Chicago this time!

I decided to share this photo because it made me happy this morning to see how the remnants of a blue bar of soap had melded into the larger cream-colored soap. It looked mellow and delicious!

Strip Search: Out of Shape

24"x30" Encaustic, work-in-progress.

I’m out of shape in every way you can imagine and I really feel it. I haven’t been in my studio working except for a dib here and a dab there. Nor have I made it to boot camp in the last five weeks. I’ve been out of town on vacation or business, or just plain working fulltime at my consulting gig. And maybe you’ve noticed I haven’t even blogged regularly in the past month.

As much as I appreciate the mental challenge of work, I miss the real me I was uncovering, as hokey as that sounds. It seems (at least to me) that most successful artists are compelled from childhood to create, create, create. I’ve never had that driven feeling until just a while back when my days were free to paint for almost two months. Then another consulting gig came along and I was back to work fulltime. My entire adult life, I’ve chastised myself for not making time to paint—thinking I just must be lazy. So when that compelled-to-create feeling enveloped me I was feeling pretty empowered.

My “aha” moment came a few weeks ago. Here it is: when I work fulltime and get involved with a client and a project, it seems to gradually encroach and occupy all my brainpower and leave little room for much else. It ISN’T laziness, I just can’t operate successfully at high levels using both sides of my brain at the same time. Art takes time and devotion, at least for me. Over the years, raising kids and/or working fulltime left me with little time for surrendering to my creative inclinations. My photographer, user-experience friend, Albert, has the same conundrum and has come to a similar conclusion. We commiserate and search for solutions.

The challenge now is carving out blocks of time to get back to the studio, because I am craving it. My consulting gig recently has been extended through the end of October—good for our budget— but I’m pleased to tell you that I did stipulate Mondays off. Back to boot camp and the studio, at least on Mondays!

Was anyone but me stunned this week to realize that summer 2009 is history?