Last Rose Standing
She seems so fragile and delicate, the last rose standing in my front yard. Burdened with the valley's first snowfall she bends and sways under the weight, soaking up the bright moonlight.
First Snowfall
Last night on my way to the gym I was unexpectedly caught in a snow storm. By the time I got home it was very dark, very cold, and very beautiful. The trees in my front yard were sparkling under the street lamp and while there's no real way to capture a moment like that, I tried.
Thanksgiving Day | 8:00am
Ahhhh...the day after Thanksgiving. No alarm clock, apple pie for breakfast, pajamas all day. Love it. My family has never been keen on the whole slave-away-in-the-kitchen tradition. We go out to eat and then see a movie. This year, however, we decided to skip the meal and volunteer to serve Thanksgiving dinner to others. It was the perfect way to kick off the holiday season.
Eagle Ranch Ministries has been serving a hot meal under the downtown freeway viaduct every single Sunday + Thanksgiving and Christmas for 22 years now. I've volunteered to prepare and serve Sunday breakfast a number of times, but had not participated in the Thanksgiving meal until yesterday. It's quite an operation. The Eagle Ranch Chuckwagon is parked under the freeway at 7:30am and as volunteers trickled in we were put to work unloading tables, grills and camping stoves, huge tupperware containers, a cd player and PA system for Jesus rock and logistical announcements, and more. After 22 years Jennie Dudley knows exactly what she's doing and the whole morning rolls by like a well-oiled machine.
I would estimate about 150 volunteers cooked meat (raised locally on the Eagle Ranch), sliced cheese, chopped up fruit salad, prepared potatoes (fresh and mashed by hand), sorted donated rolls and pastries, and other such preparations for a feast. It is awesome to me how much care and time is put into this effort. My task, and the task of my new friend Jamie, was to sort through bagged romaine lettuce and remove any leaves that weren't fresh and crisp. Rifling through piles and piles of lettuce to pick out the smallest imperfection really puts it in perspective. They love the people they serve and every Sunday for 22 years they present a beautiful meal to their friends.
This experience, particularly in light of my recent musing on pure religion, reminded me how much I enjoy serving meals with Eagle Ranch. I want to try and volunteer one Sunday a month, even when my travel schedule picks up again, and walk the walk, so to speak.
Eagle Ranch Ministries has been serving a hot meal under the downtown freeway viaduct every single Sunday + Thanksgiving and Christmas for 22 years now. I've volunteered to prepare and serve Sunday breakfast a number of times, but had not participated in the Thanksgiving meal until yesterday. It's quite an operation. The Eagle Ranch Chuckwagon is parked under the freeway at 7:30am and as volunteers trickled in we were put to work unloading tables, grills and camping stoves, huge tupperware containers, a cd player and PA system for Jesus rock and logistical announcements, and more. After 22 years Jennie Dudley knows exactly what she's doing and the whole morning rolls by like a well-oiled machine.
I would estimate about 150 volunteers cooked meat (raised locally on the Eagle Ranch), sliced cheese, chopped up fruit salad, prepared potatoes (fresh and mashed by hand), sorted donated rolls and pastries, and other such preparations for a feast. It is awesome to me how much care and time is put into this effort. My task, and the task of my new friend Jamie, was to sort through bagged romaine lettuce and remove any leaves that weren't fresh and crisp. Rifling through piles and piles of lettuce to pick out the smallest imperfection really puts it in perspective. They love the people they serve and every Sunday for 22 years they present a beautiful meal to their friends.This experience, particularly in light of my recent musing on pure religion, reminded me how much I enjoy serving meals with Eagle Ranch. I want to try and volunteer one Sunday a month, even when my travel schedule picks up again, and walk the walk, so to speak.
Grandma's Hands
women through generationspowerful brave
waves of immigrants
voices in her hands
calloused hold the love
of stories rich lines tough skin
the american dream pulses within
her veins
An Afternoon with Grandma
She's 5 feet 3 inches tall, 89 years-old, and sharp as a tack. In the words of Grandma's eternal wisdom: "One time a group of Missourians came down to Iowa to work on the farm and help bale hay. One of the women found out she was pregnant, very pregnant, and she didn't even realize it. She must be a sound sleeper."A few minutes later when my sister-in-law commented on how beautiful Grandma's wedding ring is, Grandma asked to see her ring. When they held their hands together, Grandma's face scrunched up and she looked around confused. "Hey," she persisted indignantly, "yours is bigger than mine."
At my request she told us my favorite story, the story of her courtship with my Grandpa. She was teaching grades K-8 in a one-room school house for $60 a month when Grandpa started coming around. At that time school teachers had to be single and so when he proposed marriage... "I told him that I wanted to teach. I liked to teach. [...] He had two choices. Take it or leave it." He waited five years for her and only when she decided she was done teaching did they get married.
ISBN ### My Legs Are Praying
ISBN 978-0-8070-7726-9Eboo Patel has a long history of volunteering with the Catholic Worker movement. He writes that his experiences with the Catholic Worker communes scattered across the country significantly shaped his world view and desire to start the Interfaith Youth Council. On the other hand, he also offers this criticism in Acts of Faith: "Why was so much done in remedying social evils instead of avoiding them in the first place? Where were the saints to try to change the social order, not just to minister to the slaves but to do away with slavery?" I constantly teach this model of social change to the students I work with: "It's great that you're serving sandwiches at the soup kitchen. We need that, but you should also be asking why we have shelters in the first place. What will you do about the answer to that question?"
As I read Eboo's thoughts I was reminded of one of my favorite allegories, a popular yarn spun throughout the activist community. To paraphrase: A community living near the river notices a body floating down the stream. They are concerned and jump in the river to save this man. They get him out of the stream and rush him to the hospital. A couple days pass and another body floats by the community. Again, they are concerned and retrieve the body from the water and rush her to the hospital. The very next day, two bodies float past and they also take them to the hospital. Everyone then gathers for a community meeting. It is decided that they need to build a hospital closer to the river to meet the need of the growing number of bodies floating down the stream. In the following days the number of bodies floating past their community grows and grows and the hospital is very busy trying to take care of these people. A few weeks pass and a village elder returns to the community from a long journey. She asks about the new hospital and the mysterious bodies. After the community relays the story of the past few weeks, the village elder pauses before calmly replying, "Why has no one gone up the stream to see where the bodies are coming from?"
That specific philosophy of systemic social justice, in combination with my faith, motivates me to action. My political/social actions are ironically many times marginalized by my faith community. I'll admit that one reason I enjoyed reading Acts of Faith was because it validates my actions and reinvigorates my commitment. Patel writes, "The tradition you were born into is your home, but as Gandhi once wrote, it should be a home with the window open so that the winds of other traditions can blow through and bring their unique oxygen." Through my open windows blows Dorothy Day, well-known for her role in the Catholic Worker movement. She wrote in her diary: "I pray that God will give me a chance to pray to Him the way I like to pray to him. If I pray by making soup and serving soup, I feel I'm praying by doing." And Abraham Joshua Herschel, a Rabbi who worked closely with Martin Luther King, Jr. on the cause of equality and civil rights, said while marching with King in Selma, "I felt like my legs were praying."
I pray by doing. My legs are praying. This is, to me, the heart of religion. It is by no means exclusive to religion or religious people (far from it actually), but in speaking of my own personal faith, this concept of belief-put-into-action is key. The key. Jesus As Radical Hippie Restoring Justice To The Social Order is neither a new concept nor an unfamiliar archetype. (Godspell, anyone? We have the Baby Boomers to thank for that musical interpretation of the life and times).Jesus' brother James writes, "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this: To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction..." (James 1:27, KJV). He continues, "What doth it profit though a man say he have faith and have not works? Can faith save him? If a brother or sister be naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, 'Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled...' notwithstanding ye gave them not those things which are needful to the body: What doth it profit? Even so faith, if it have not works, is dead, being alone..." (James 2:14-17, KJV). In other words, you can talk a powerful talk but if you don't back it up with a powerful walk...what does it profit? What does it matter? Nothing.
Patel writes, "What is a community but a group of people who have some claim over you, and what is a tradition but a set of stories and principles and rules handed down over hundreds or thousands of years that each new generation has to wrestle with." A tradition that I have to wrestle with? The fact that modern LDS culture (culture = individual members) seemingly ignores our doctrinal call to a political brand of social justice. There is little doubt that humanitarian service plays a huge role in the organization of the LDS church, but I often wonder if members assume "All is well in Zion" and simply retrieve bodies from the river as they float by.
ISBN ### Doctrine vs. Culture
ISBN 978-0-8070-7726-9Eboo Patel's first love, a high school relationship described early in the book, was with an LDS girl named Lisa. He writes, "I still don't know how Mormon theology regards true believers of other faiths. That moment with Lisa taught me a lasting lesson about the sociology of religion: the heart of even the most ardent religious believer will provide more accurate clues to his or her behavior than the theology of his or her faith." Doctrine versus culture. Or in his words, theology versus behavior. I could write for days and days on this topic and my friends are probably sick of me harping on it; but it took years of angst and screaming into the wind for me to boil down the disconnect I observe to: doctrine versus culture.
For only a few examples of this dichotomy: LDS doctrine teaches, "All things which come of the earth are to be used with judgment..." (Doctrine & Covenants 58) and yet how many tree-hugging environmentalists do you find in the mainstream church? LDS doctrine teaches that members of the faith are to "Sue for peace, not only to the people that have smitten you, but to all people. Lift up an ensign of peace, and make a proclamation of peace unto the ends of the earth..." (Doctrine & Covenants 105) and yet the approval rating for President Bush and the Iraq war are astronomically high in Utah, the DOJ torture memos were written by LDS men, Romney (God help us) wants to double the capacity of Guantanamo, etc.On one hand is found the theology of the faith and on the other hand is found is the heart of each believer. It is the heart which dictates action more so than the theology. Gordon B. Hinckley can stand at the pulpit and preach love and equality among all people of the earth, telling LDS people to be "kinder and better" until he's blue in the face, but unless each individual heart of each individual member of the faith turns that council into action...it makes no difference.
I am not about to claim that I live in perfect harmony with all doctrine of the LDS faith. I don't. I am claiming that many people exist in a cultural universe unrecognizable to the doctrine. Many times I wonder if we read from the same copy of the Book of Mormon. I can be cheeky or even snarky about this hypocritical disconnect but the truth is that at the end of the day it makes me really sad.
ISBN ### Inner Coherence
ISBN 978-0-8070-7726-9My last ISBN ### post was eons ago in late August. I have been reading in the meantime but with all my travel and stress at work it's been primarily magazines on the run, friend's blogs in hotel rooms at night, and Sky Mall on the planes. Not exactly the Cannon, but between a National Geographic cover story on Pakistan, a self-guided meditation exercise in Spirituality & Health, "Women in Charge" from The Wilson Quarterly, and Cosmopolitan's 101 ways to skillfully [fill in the blank], I've been adequately entertained.
I will say however that I attended Eboo Patel's lecture and purchased Acts of Faith just in time. I read it over my weekend in Iowa and it saved me from yet another scan through Sky Mall and the temptation to order high-performance running sandals, Scandyna Micropod curvaceous speakers on sputnik spikes, or the full-height telescoping worktable that fits in my laptop case.
Acts of Faith is exactly what I needed to read right now. There is a lot going on in my non-work life lately that has yet to take shape, but is beginning to percolate. I know that talking back to this book will help me formulate the amorphous energy that's is as yet just hovering around me.
Patel's major thesis is a call to religious pluralism. He defines it in this way: "Pluralism is not a default position, an autopilot mode. Pluralism is an intentional commitment that is imprinted through action. It requires deliberate engagement with difference, outspoken loyalty to others, and proactive protection in the breach." I completely agree with his emphasis on action and have much to say about his qualifying statement: "There is a strong connection between finding a sense of inner coherence and developing a commitment to pluralism."
My observation is that people feel threatened by the idea of pluralism. More generally, people feel threatened by what is not circumscribed by their interpretation of their faith. This observation is true of people in many faiths, but I'll speak only about my most direct experience, people of the LDS faith. Somehow people feel that exposure to other perspectives, different versions of truth, new experiences, will detract from their faith and weaken their commitment. This fear is particularly prevalent in Utah's cloistered LDS community, but can apply, in some degree, to many organized religions the world over. Patel's phrase, "sense of inner coherence," resonated deeply with me and stands in sharp contrast to the fear of pluralism that I observe all around me. I can notice this pattern and understand it from an intellectual perspective - even from an historical perspective with the Mormon pioneers fleeing persecution and hunkering down in the mountains of Mexico in relative isolation - but yet I cannot relate in the least.I struggle with the argument, for instance, that children should be entirely sheltered from "the world" (that *anyone* should be entirely sheltered from the world). In my opinion that does not at all respect one's faith. Rather, to me, that is the ultimate insult to one's faith. If you are a person of faith raising your child with certain values (not that religious people have an exclusive claim to raising children with values!) and you fear that at first exposure to *the other* your child is going to toss those values out the window...what are you saying about your faith and the values you taught your child? (Furthermore...the inherent right of each person to choose their own path trumps this entire discussion.)
If you are comfortable with yourself and confident in your faith, exposure to [whatever] is not something to be feared. Pluralism, seeing the value and truth in many faiths and in many ways of life (even actively seeking to know of that value), is not to be feared. Dr. Patel gave to me the exact words I've been searching for: "a sense of inner coherence" is essential for "developing a commitment to pluralism." Knowing who you are, loving who you are, and respecting who you are is absolutely required before you can comprehend, honor, and defend your beliefs. However, once on solid ground, you must be prepared to comprehend, honor, and defend the right of each and every person to believe or not believe as they will. This commitment has always been at the very core my faith, my identity as an American, my political agenda, and my interaction with the world...and all I can say to Eboo is "Amen."
Big Butts. Big Brains.
So between feminists making better lovers and a recent BBC report that curvy women are more intelligent than waifs...this is turning out to be my week.
From the report: "Women with curvy figures are likely to be brighter than waif-like counterparts and may well produce more intelligent offspring, a US study suggests. Researchers studied 16,000 women and girls and found the more voluptuous performed better on cognitive tests - as did their children. The bigger the difference between a woman's waist and hips the better."
...and then something about fatty acids on the hips and high concentrations of Omega-3 being found in healthily bootylicious women? Huh? I'm not a scientist and so this chatter about fatty deposits chemically impacting intelligence doesn't exactly rock my socks. What does rock my socks? The quite simple and probably dramatically anti-scientific but potentially sociological notion that curvy women have been out of mainstream cultural vogue for decades now and with all that spare time they've managed to develop, like, ya know, personalities, or something.
How many inane romantic comedies must Hollywood spew forth to adequately drive home their shallow point that the fat funny brunette wingwoman is always a bridesmaid slash best friend but never a bride. Why do you suppose the fat brunette is always so damn funny, or such a good listener, or everything the skinny blonde girlfriend is not? This voluptuous vixen has not cruised through life on her runway looks and along the bumpy ride she developed, see above, a personality. But what do I know? I'll leave the fatty acid theory to the researchers.
From the report: "Women with curvy figures are likely to be brighter than waif-like counterparts and may well produce more intelligent offspring, a US study suggests. Researchers studied 16,000 women and girls and found the more voluptuous performed better on cognitive tests - as did their children. The bigger the difference between a woman's waist and hips the better."
...and then something about fatty acids on the hips and high concentrations of Omega-3 being found in healthily bootylicious women? Huh? I'm not a scientist and so this chatter about fatty deposits chemically impacting intelligence doesn't exactly rock my socks. What does rock my socks? The quite simple and probably dramatically anti-scientific but potentially sociological notion that curvy women have been out of mainstream cultural vogue for decades now and with all that spare time they've managed to develop, like, ya know, personalities, or something.
How many inane romantic comedies must Hollywood spew forth to adequately drive home their shallow point that the fat funny brunette wingwoman is always a bridesmaid slash best friend but never a bride. Why do you suppose the fat brunette is always so damn funny, or such a good listener, or everything the skinny blonde girlfriend is not? This voluptuous vixen has not cruised through life on her runway looks and along the bumpy ride she developed, see above, a personality. But what do I know? I'll leave the fatty acid theory to the researchers.
Particularly Colorful Lunch
[Tacoma was my last out-of-state trip for while and so I'm beginning to catch up on all the work and life I've missed in the past couple months...but apparently my stressed out brain has devolved to snapping photographs of my salad. I really need a vacation.]
Thoughts bubbling to the top
A few miscellaneous things rattling around in my brain...
Support our troops!
According to NPR (and I forget what study they were citing) there are approximately 1,500 homeless veterans from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan now living homeless on the streets of America. Last year, on any given night, there were 96,000 total veterans sleeping on our streets. The wealthiest country in the world and we allow our leaders to spend our money on bombs and death and racial hatred? How about we support our troops by bringing them home safely and diverting the immoral war chest to programs that truly respect and honor our veterans?
Moral high ground?
Water boarding. Water boarding. Water boarding. You'd think it was his bloody glove or her little blue dress the way the media is harping on the term. I'm not bothered by the fact that this practice is in the news; in fact, I wish more of America's shameful policies would grace the front page as a catalyst to force our leaders to clean up their act. What bothers me is the debate that has ensued. Is it torture? Is it only "simulated drowning" and so it's almost but not quite torture. The history of water boarding, the definition, the specific techniques, and the roster of world leaders and governments that have used it over the centuries is well documented. I'm not going to redundantly make those points, I will, however, make the point that this false notion of "American moral high ground" has to stop. Are you kidding me?
I love this country. America is a beautiful idea and a revolutionary experiment in free will and democratic populism, but she is not standing piously alone atop this mythical high ground. She never did. Forget water boarding and the abhorrent way we treat our brothers and sisters in the name of the symantic "war on terror," do I even need to remind everyone of the massacre of Native tribes, African slaves, white flight and urban gentrification, rendition, Katrina, Guantanamo, the stalled civil rights and gender equality movements...? It is because I love this country and because I know we can be so much better than we are that I am so indignant at the false claim that we are just now, with water boarding finally breaking through to mainstream news media, loosing our moral high ground. We are human and struggling to figure it out and making it up as we go just like everyone else. The moral high ground is not ours to loose...it is ours to gain if we can view the world through the eyes of dialogue and respect.
Feminists have more fun...
From a published research Rutgers research study: "Psychologists Laurie Rudman and Julie Phelan carried out a laboratory survey of 242 Rutgers undergraduates and conducted an online survey of 289 older adults who had an average age of 26 and typically had been in their current relationship about four years." As it turns out: "...women who perceived their male partners as feminists reported greater relationship health and sexual satisfaction. [And...] men with feminist partners said they had more stable relationships and greater sexual satisfaction. Overall, feminism and romance do go hand in hand, the scientists say."
Duh. In the words of a powerful feminist archetype, "I love my country, by which I mean I am indebted joyfully to all the people throughout its history who have fought the government to make right. Where so many cunning sons and daughters, our foremothers and forefathers came singing through slaughter, came through hell and high water so that we could stand here, and behold breathlessly the sight; how a raging river of tears cut a grand canyon of light. Why can't all decent men and women call themselves feminists, out of respect for those that fought for this?" (Ani DiFranco)
If you are secure in who you are and confident that you deserve the world and then some...and then your parter shares that confidence and security...and then the two of you respect that power and energy in each other...of course your relationship and sex life will rock. Doesn't seem like rocket science to me, but thanks anyway to Rutgers for the data (and to my brother, a budding feminist, for emailing the article to me).
Support our troops!
According to NPR (and I forget what study they were citing) there are approximately 1,500 homeless veterans from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan now living homeless on the streets of America. Last year, on any given night, there were 96,000 total veterans sleeping on our streets. The wealthiest country in the world and we allow our leaders to spend our money on bombs and death and racial hatred? How about we support our troops by bringing them home safely and diverting the immoral war chest to programs that truly respect and honor our veterans?
Moral high ground?
Water boarding. Water boarding. Water boarding. You'd think it was his bloody glove or her little blue dress the way the media is harping on the term. I'm not bothered by the fact that this practice is in the news; in fact, I wish more of America's shameful policies would grace the front page as a catalyst to force our leaders to clean up their act. What bothers me is the debate that has ensued. Is it torture? Is it only "simulated drowning" and so it's almost but not quite torture. The history of water boarding, the definition, the specific techniques, and the roster of world leaders and governments that have used it over the centuries is well documented. I'm not going to redundantly make those points, I will, however, make the point that this false notion of "American moral high ground" has to stop. Are you kidding me?I love this country. America is a beautiful idea and a revolutionary experiment in free will and democratic populism, but she is not standing piously alone atop this mythical high ground. She never did. Forget water boarding and the abhorrent way we treat our brothers and sisters in the name of the symantic "war on terror," do I even need to remind everyone of the massacre of Native tribes, African slaves, white flight and urban gentrification, rendition, Katrina, Guantanamo, the stalled civil rights and gender equality movements...? It is because I love this country and because I know we can be so much better than we are that I am so indignant at the false claim that we are just now, with water boarding finally breaking through to mainstream news media, loosing our moral high ground. We are human and struggling to figure it out and making it up as we go just like everyone else. The moral high ground is not ours to loose...it is ours to gain if we can view the world through the eyes of dialogue and respect.
Feminists have more fun...
From a published research Rutgers research study: "Psychologists Laurie Rudman and Julie Phelan carried out a laboratory survey of 242 Rutgers undergraduates and conducted an online survey of 289 older adults who had an average age of 26 and typically had been in their current relationship about four years." As it turns out: "...women who perceived their male partners as feminists reported greater relationship health and sexual satisfaction. [And...] men with feminist partners said they had more stable relationships and greater sexual satisfaction. Overall, feminism and romance do go hand in hand, the scientists say."
Duh. In the words of a powerful feminist archetype, "I love my country, by which I mean I am indebted joyfully to all the people throughout its history who have fought the government to make right. Where so many cunning sons and daughters, our foremothers and forefathers came singing through slaughter, came through hell and high water so that we could stand here, and behold breathlessly the sight; how a raging river of tears cut a grand canyon of light. Why can't all decent men and women call themselves feminists, out of respect for those that fought for this?" (Ani DiFranco)If you are secure in who you are and confident that you deserve the world and then some...and then your parter shares that confidence and security...and then the two of you respect that power and energy in each other...of course your relationship and sex life will rock. Doesn't seem like rocket science to me, but thanks anyway to Rutgers for the data (and to my brother, a budding feminist, for emailing the article to me).
Random Tacoma Surprise | Hot Men & Hot Lesbians Blowing in the Hot Shop
Inside the steel cone-shaped tower at the Museum of Glass is the museum's hot shop (aka artist's glass blowing studio). Pulling stats from their website: The hot shop cone is 90-feet tall, 100-feet in diameter at its base, and narrows to a 15-foot opening. It's difficult to describe (and even more difficult to photograph), so check out the hyperlink for photos...but there is a 200-seat ampitheatre, a live play-by-play announcer prowling the studio floor with a microphone in hand, and gigantic projection screen providing both close-up and wide-angle video shots of the artists at work. It's out of this world. I love it.The museum was hosting visiting artists from Australia who I'm told are quite famous in the art glass world...and who's names I can't remember without researching the website. The primary reason I can't remember the Aussies is not because they weren't talented or interesting, but rather it's because resident artist Gabe Feenan and I were busy making eyes at each other for the 45 minutes I spent in the hot shop spectator box. Other than the few brief moments I spent admiring the oddly sexy lesbian glassblowers (not a single straight woman on the studio floor...hmmm?) I was batting my eyelashes at Gabe...and I dare say he was batting right back. What a lovely Tacoma surprise.
Nice Glass | Tacoma, WA
The Museum of Glass and the Chihuly bridge, in the revitalized waterfront district of downtown Tacoma, were both completed after my last visit to the city...so you can guess where I spent my free time before heading to the airport this time around. I'd heard amazing tales of the museum from friends who've visited Tacoma more recently and I had to check it out for myself. I can now boast my own amazing tales because this excursion did not disappoint.
The exhibit Contrasts: a glass primer, by visiting curator Vicki Halper, runs through November 2009. I've never paused so long to ponder glass and I found the entire experience fascinating. The exhibit challenges the viewer to not simply say "I like it" or "I don't like it..." but rather it provides a vocabulary to describe the artwork before making a judgment. This description-first attitude is how I approach any exhibit (or film, etc.), but it was surreal to see these instructions emblazoned on the wall. I also learned a great deal about glass as art. For instance, a number of pieces focus on "appearance and formation" with words such as "natural/fabricated, hot/warm/cold, transparent/translucent/opaque, factory/studio" - while other pieces focus on the "aesthetic and iconographic" with words like "forms/surface, vessel/sculpture, useful/fanciful, art/craft." Vessels function, sculptures describe...and so on.
The northwest is generally considered the womb of the studio glass movement and Dale Chihuly is the famous Tacoma-ite artist at the center of it all. Almost better than the museum itself is the Chihuly Bridge of Glass. There are three parts to this outdoor, 500-foot, 24/7/365 art exhibit: the crystal towers (which you can see in my photos above), the Venetian Bridge, and the Seaform Pavilion (photos of both below). I've traveled to Venice and visited both Murano and Burano in search of beautiful glass...and who knew I would find a breathtaking rival in my own backyard.
The bridge passes over the 705 freeway, the high-traffic entrance to Tacoma. One side of the bridge is full of cubbyholes housing individual pieces of Chihuly's blown glass. This section is known as the Venetian Wall. The sun shining is a rare moment in Tacoma, but even without the sun blazing through the back of the cases, the bridge takes your breath away. I tried to take a comprehensive photo that would do it justice, but I couldn't capture it how it deserves to be captured. I recommend you check out the professional photos. The second half of the bridge is known as the Seaform Pavilion. As awesome as the Venetian wall is, I think this is the more magical half. It's magical because it sneaks up on you and attacks you with the brightest colors you've ever seen. You walk under thick panels of glass housing Chihuly's colorful glass interpretations of sea creatures and flowing water. I could spend all day under there I loved it so much.
Before the museum and the bridge came to be, Chihuly installed a number of pieces in the courthouse (previously the railroad's Union Station). My favorite is the massive half-circle window facing the waterfront.
I went into the museum gift shop intending to purchase a $1.50 postcard, or perhaps splurge $30 for a book of Maya Lin's landscape work (Maya Lin is most famous for designing the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial at age 21 and had a really moving piece in the current Mining Glass exhibit). I exited the museum gift shop 30 minutes later and hundreds of dollars poorer with a magnificent Kosta Boda vase tucked under my arm. Oops. It was a very KJBella moment...she knows exactly what I'm talking about. I don't regret it for a moment. It was love at first sight when, from across the room, my eyes locked on the graceful Olle Brozen vase. It's an Artist Choice piece from the floating flowers collection and it's just what my living room has been missing...
The exhibit Contrasts: a glass primer, by visiting curator Vicki Halper, runs through November 2009. I've never paused so long to ponder glass and I found the entire experience fascinating. The exhibit challenges the viewer to not simply say "I like it" or "I don't like it..." but rather it provides a vocabulary to describe the artwork before making a judgment. This description-first attitude is how I approach any exhibit (or film, etc.), but it was surreal to see these instructions emblazoned on the wall. I also learned a great deal about glass as art. For instance, a number of pieces focus on "appearance and formation" with words such as "natural/fabricated, hot/warm/cold, transparent/translucent/opaque, factory/studio" - while other pieces focus on the "aesthetic and iconographic" with words like "forms/surface, vessel/sculpture, useful/fanciful, art/craft." Vessels function, sculptures describe...and so on.
The northwest is generally considered the womb of the studio glass movement and Dale Chihuly is the famous Tacoma-ite artist at the center of it all. Almost better than the museum itself is the Chihuly Bridge of Glass. There are three parts to this outdoor, 500-foot, 24/7/365 art exhibit: the crystal towers (which you can see in my photos above), the Venetian Bridge, and the Seaform Pavilion (photos of both below). I've traveled to Venice and visited both Murano and Burano in search of beautiful glass...and who knew I would find a breathtaking rival in my own backyard.
The bridge passes over the 705 freeway, the high-traffic entrance to Tacoma. One side of the bridge is full of cubbyholes housing individual pieces of Chihuly's blown glass. This section is known as the Venetian Wall. The sun shining is a rare moment in Tacoma, but even without the sun blazing through the back of the cases, the bridge takes your breath away. I tried to take a comprehensive photo that would do it justice, but I couldn't capture it how it deserves to be captured. I recommend you check out the professional photos. The second half of the bridge is known as the Seaform Pavilion. As awesome as the Venetian wall is, I think this is the more magical half. It's magical because it sneaks up on you and attacks you with the brightest colors you've ever seen. You walk under thick panels of glass housing Chihuly's colorful glass interpretations of sea creatures and flowing water. I could spend all day under there I loved it so much.
Before the museum and the bridge came to be, Chihuly installed a number of pieces in the courthouse (previously the railroad's Union Station). My favorite is the massive half-circle window facing the waterfront.
I went into the museum gift shop intending to purchase a $1.50 postcard, or perhaps splurge $30 for a book of Maya Lin's landscape work (Maya Lin is most famous for designing the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial at age 21 and had a really moving piece in the current Mining Glass exhibit). I exited the museum gift shop 30 minutes later and hundreds of dollars poorer with a magnificent Kosta Boda vase tucked under my arm. Oops. It was a very KJBella moment...she knows exactly what I'm talking about. I don't regret it for a moment. It was love at first sight when, from across the room, my eyes locked on the graceful Olle Brozen vase. It's an Artist Choice piece from the floating flowers collection and it's just what my living room has been missing...
Point Defiance | Tacoma, WA
I've posted a number of times about versions of home, different spaces that bring me back to the core of Myself. The Pacific Northwest is one of those spaces. To cast the net widely, from San Francisco up through Vancouver. My recent visit to Tacoma, from the very moment I turned south on I-5, washed me in an overwhelming flood of memories...as going home always will.
I've been to Tacoma many times and found solace there during an immensely pivotal, difficult time in my life. Specifically, I found solace in Point Defiance. The details of these memories and of the difficult time long since past are not worth drudging up, but I will say that Point Defiance still, after all these years, holds a very special energy for me.
This sacred space gave to me yesterday, as it gave to me years ago, a profound sense of perspective. This old growth forest, with ferns half the size of my rental car and redwoods so tall I only imagine seeing their top canopy, gently reminds me that the stresses of life are not only fleeting, they are dramatically unimportant to the grand scheme. Point Defiance has become a trusted friend, willing to call me on my bullshit and quiet enough for me to hear the advice I most need to hear.
I've been to Tacoma many times and found solace there during an immensely pivotal, difficult time in my life. Specifically, I found solace in Point Defiance. The details of these memories and of the difficult time long since past are not worth drudging up, but I will say that Point Defiance still, after all these years, holds a very special energy for me.
This sacred space gave to me yesterday, as it gave to me years ago, a profound sense of perspective. This old growth forest, with ferns half the size of my rental car and redwoods so tall I only imagine seeing their top canopy, gently reminds me that the stresses of life are not only fleeting, they are dramatically unimportant to the grand scheme. Point Defiance has become a trusted friend, willing to call me on my bullshit and quiet enough for me to hear the advice I most need to hear.
(Photos by me & music by Indigo Girls: "Get Out the Map" and "World Falls")
Random Tacoma Surprise | Tide pools in the moonlight
Last night I met with my colleagues from Tacoma Community College at Pour at Four, a cozy wine bar on the north side of town. We shared tapas, cheese plates, black bean arepas, and the best spinach salad I've ever had. While there, one of the professors (Biology) invited me to take a field trip with her night class. I took her up on her offer and I spent a couple hours tonight wandering through dense forest paths leading to moonlit tide pools.
This agenda would have made a great night by any standard, but to be led on this excursion by a Biology prof who absolutely lives for the information she was sharing made it extra super great. I tend to go out of my way to indulge in nerdy experiences and tonight was right up there. I suppose any normal person, after pulling a ten hour day of consulting, conducting workshops, and meeting after back-to-back meeting would veg in the hotel room and fall asleep to HBO; but I wouldn't trade poking colorful anemones and watching little crabs running over my shoes for anything.
This agenda would have made a great night by any standard, but to be led on this excursion by a Biology prof who absolutely lives for the information she was sharing made it extra super great. I tend to go out of my way to indulge in nerdy experiences and tonight was right up there. I suppose any normal person, after pulling a ten hour day of consulting, conducting workshops, and meeting after back-to-back meeting would veg in the hotel room and fall asleep to HBO; but I wouldn't trade poking colorful anemones and watching little crabs running over my shoes for anything.
On the Road Again | Tacoma, WA
So I had two days to be in Salt Lake between Iowa and my trip to Washington and I'm increasingly convinced that my most meaningful relationship is now with my favorite cab driver who I see more often than some of my closest friends.
I'm in Tacoma for business and to make my arrangements I asked for a local recommendation on a non-national-chain hotel. I could not be happier with my digs for the next few days. I'm in the Silver Cloud Inn and from the moment I checked in, I've been drooling over the view. I'm sure, just as the Wasatch mountains have unfortunately become to me, this view is pase to people who live here, but I can't get over how stunning it is. The hotel is perched on a pier in Commencement Bay and all rooms have a water view. I tried, but I could never take a photo that would do this place justice, so definitely check out their website.
I'm in Tacoma for business and to make my arrangements I asked for a local recommendation on a non-national-chain hotel. I could not be happier with my digs for the next few days. I'm in the Silver Cloud Inn and from the moment I checked in, I've been drooling over the view. I'm sure, just as the Wasatch mountains have unfortunately become to me, this view is pase to people who live here, but I can't get over how stunning it is. The hotel is perched on a pier in Commencement Bay and all rooms have a water view. I tried, but I could never take a photo that would do this place justice, so definitely check out their website.
My room...
The view from my room...
Bon Voyage! Appreciez Paris!
Kristine & StevenMarried 03 November 2007
Congratulations! Travel safely!
Congratulations! Travel safely!
The wedding ceremony was in the Danforth Chapel, gingerbread adorable and perfect. The reception was at the Iowa River Power Company. The power company was a great, really unique venue for the reception. From their website, "At the turn of the century, a flour mill operated on the site that is now occupied by the Iowa River Power Restaurant. Construction on the present structure was completed in 1902 to house a power generating station that operated until 1964. It was sold to the City of Coralville for $1.00 and they in turn sold it to others who used it for storage until 1976. Conversion of the structure into a restaurant began in February of 1977. The Iowa River Power Restaurant officially opened Monday, October 24, 1977." Their website is worth checking out, interesting story and great photos.
On the Road Again | Iowa City, Iowa
2007 seems to be the year for weddings. First my brother in March, Dawn and Michael in September, and now Kristine and Steve in Iowa City. I've posted before about Iowa and my grandfather, and I thought that when I traveled to Iowa in 2006 it would be the last time I'd see my 89-year old grandmother. I was fully prepared for that reality and spent time after the trip coming to terms with that assumption. It's a double-edged sword that I'm back here now and get to spend more time with her.
I've been here since Wednesday, about four days now. One night we went to the Amana Colonies for dinner and gorged on plate after plate after communal plate of home-cooked German food. Though it wasn't light outside as we drove around the colony, you could still get the basic flavor of this 1850s religious commune. Technically, they voted in 1932 to no longer live an exclusively communal lifestyle, but approximately 1,700 people still live in seven different Amana villages. For more about the Amma Colony, read the FAQ.Other than that adventure, my time has been divided between the gym, gramma, the pool, lots of driving to and fro, and procrastinating completion of the pile of work projects I carted along. The wedding dinner and "Pamper the Bride" shower were last night and the ceremony/reception is tonight. The ceremony is in the Danforth Chapel on the campus of the University of Iowa. I'm sure I'll have plenty of pictures to post later, but in the mean time, check out how adorable it is.
First Friday Films | Take Three
First Friday Films | Take Three
And the award goes to...
The thin air turns cool, colorful leaves fall from trees in crunchy piles, and mainstream movies are finally worth seeing again. Ahhhhh yes...fall Oscar season is upon us.
Elizabeth: The Golden Age
I've posted before about my obsession with the slice of heaven that is Cate Blanchett. Well, pair her with the mmmm-hmmm deliciousness that is Clive Owen and then put them side by side in a sensual, lush, sexy, intelligent period piece about powerhouse Elizabeth kicking Armada cajones...and enough said. "I have a hurricane inside of me..." Ohmigosh, love it. If Cate doesn't walk away with an Oscar I will be very surprised. This is a must-see and if you're me...see it again.Across the Universe
Did everyone love Julie Taymor's Frida as much as I did? There are moments in Frida when you get glimpses of the eccentricity that is Taymor's film making, but it's on full feature-length display in Across the Universe. I actually went into this film expecting it to be a lot more avant garde than it is. I love musicals and I loved this film, but I wanted even more weirdness. The plot line is completely predictable, but the way Taymor plays with the Beatles songs and stages each scene like its own individual work of art is awesome. Oh yeah, and Jim Sturgess. Welcome to Hollywood, you lovely, lovely man, welcome.Michael Clayton
"The truth can be adjusted," reads the tagline. The reason I love George Clooney's political films is because they are drastically understated, but you still leave the theatre reeling. This film is tense, jam packed with convoluted dialogue, nothing is straight forward and you have to wind your way through delicate character twists and subtle plot turns (think Syriana times ten). The script doesn't give you an inch and Clooney is flawless as the manipulating, and manipulated, "fixer." I loved it.
Eastern Promises
Pretentious chatter: Something about Viggo Mortenson giving the performance of his life (which he truly did) and Naomi Watts holding her own in this testosterone drenched drama and my reminder that I really enjoy Vincent Cassel and the script being really smart and tight blahblah. All of which is completely true. However, the discussion I actually had after leaving the theatre: That movie was so ridiculously senselessly gratuitously violent that I couldn't keep both eyes open long enough to enjoy it. The violence was raw and perfectly executed in that sense. It's just that raw violence is difficult to watch. Thumbs down for nude sauna fights where someone gets a knife jammed and twisted in their eyeball. Okay fine, Viggo is totally svelte and I'm not opposed to his nude bum, so thumbs down for fights where someone gets a knife jammed and twisted in their eyeball.
We Own the Night
Beyond being a tense thriller laced in nearly as much testosterone as Eastern Promises, this film is a well-writen story of family and the lengths you'll go to for those you love. I enjoy watching stories of relationships between men (not exclusively Brokeback style stories, though I love that movie). Our society enculturates men in such unfortunate ways. The idea that men can be emotional and vulnerable is not an idea widely promoted in our media landscape and that's unfortunate. It was Joaquin Phoenix and Mark Wallberg's vulnerability that made this movie. While on the subject, can I have a moment of silent gratitude for the casting agent. Joaquin Phoenix and Mark Walberg. Oy and Oy. Not to be overlooked, Eva Mendez is out of this world beautiful and she pulls off one of the hottest sex scenes (or one of the hottest nearly-almost-sort-of-sex scenes) I've seen in a long time. Joaquin's involvement in said scene did not hurt.Rendition
As I start my thought process for this blurb about Rendition I'm noticing a pattern in my own writing...I can't seem to resist commenting on the actors sex appeal. It's not that I'm shallow, I'm not. It's just a Libra thing. I'm eternally attracted to The Beautiful and have a heightened sensitivity for pleasing aesthetics, in fellow humans or otherwise. Granted, my definition of beauty may not be universally appreciated (see The Dog Problem below) but I'm moved by it nonetheless. That observation out of the way, let me interject two points. Number one: Omar Metwally. One to watch. Number two: On the eighth day, when God woke up in a particularly good mood, he decided to bless planet earth with the unparalleled vision we call Jake Gyllenhaal. Give us this day our daily bread and thank you, dear Lord, for every. single. square. inch. of. Jake.
So anyway, about Rendition, I get the sense that it will seem very politically charged to Middle America enamored of commercial news broadcasts and miniature flags flying from Chevrolet windows, but I think the film stopped short of it's moral obligation. If you're going to tackle something as serious as America's hypocritical and immoral foreign policy, tackle it. Tackle it, take it down, and don't tap out. Even still, I respect the film for what it did do: explode the issue onto screens in a suburban megaplex near you. It's a great movie and I liked it, don't get me wrong, and even though the script ultimately goes soft, it still pushed the issue further than anything else Hollywood is serving up. (This statement will hold true, I suspect, until I see Lions for Lambs. I wager Rendition's political bite will be trumped by Redford's rage).The Dog Problem
Scott Caan, who most people would recognize from the Ocean's 11, 12, 13 series, wrote and directed this film. Scott also acts in the film alongside Giovani Ribisi (they also worked together on two other movies I like: Gone in 60 Seconds (dreadlocked Angelina, anyone?) and Boiler Room). The Dog Problem is a total sleeper hit, but worth tracking down. It made the festival circuit and has that particularly charming indy feel to it. I love how quirky and odd it is. I laughed out loud throughout the entire movie and yet it's more than just a comedy. It's sexy and playful and a great way to spend 88 minutes of your day. I Reboxed it on a whim because, what can I say, Giovani Ribisi does it for me. He's gorgeous and his voice is like butter...raspy, mildly autistic butter. He's brilliant and witty, beside being impossibly hip. He has a chic edge that can't really be explained, but it's unmistakable. I adore him and I adore this movie.Hairspray
I said it. You can't stop the beat. I won't tell you that I saw this five times or that I went to the sing-a-long showing and sat in the front row and rocked out like a giddy school girl. I won't tell you those things because it's rather embarrassing.
And one more...because...come on now...
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