How Do I Choose?

Going to get a little high minded for a Friday. I was presented with another blog post suggestion and this one poses quite a challenge. The assignment? A blog post sharing my top ten favorite works of art.

This is not an easy task. It is hard to come up with ten. It is hard to keep it to just ten. How does one choose from among all the works that touch my soul? Do I go with popular stuff? Do I go with less mainstream stuff?

And then, how does one find photos on the web that even come close to showing the magic of the work?

With much fussing and hand wringing, I've arrived at my list of ten. I'm sure the moment I hit "publish" I'll change my mind.

All but one of these items I have seen in person, and they stand out to me as show-stoppers. Items of art that made me step back, sit down, or stare transfixed (or all three).

Here we go, in no particular order:

Starry Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh

Van Gogh is, hands down, my favorite artist. I blame this on a high school English teacher who introduced me to his work.

The stabbing, slashing paint strokes appeal to me, and his pain on display, even in a pretty painting of flowers resonates with me. When I saw this painting in person at the MoMA in New York, I cried. Not just wept a little, I bawled. I'd been seeing The Good Man only six months at that point and yet he didn't think I was weird. That *is* a good man.

Tree of Life by Gustav Klimt

This was a new friend I made at New York's MoMA. After crying my eyes out over Van Gogh, I didn't imagine I'd be able to learn to love any other art works that day. I was wrong. I'm not generally a fan of Klimt, but this painting was so engaging, it couldn't be ignored. I go back and look at it pretty frequently while online. There is incredible detail in every square inch of this work.

Masked Ball at the Opera by Eduard Manet

I saw this at the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC back in the late 1990's. I've found no photograph since that does the painting any justice. When you see this work in person, it's painted in such a way that you feel like you are at the party. You can see the folds and wrinkles in the clothing of the other guests. You smile, you frown. They smile and frown back. You are there, in the room, at the party. It's fascinating.

I stared at this painting for about an hour and still had a hard time tearing my eyes away.

Mourner Costume by Henri Matisse

I'm actually not much of a fan of Matisse's work. His torn paper work for which he's so famous rates only a "meh" from me. When I saw the permanent Matisse exhibit at National Gallery of Art it was mostly his paper works, so I walked through pretty quickly. I was about to leave when my eyes fell on this garment.

It's torn paper style done with fabric. In this photo, it looks sort of dull and unimaginative. In person, it's enchanting. The memories of this work of art have stayed with me for years. One day I'd love to try my hand at a cloth work inspired by this:

Dizziness by Iman Maleki

This is the only one I haven't seen in person. I found it via the Art Gallery app on the iPhone and I'm utterly fascinated by this painting. It's my wallpaper on the phone and I can stare at it and see something new every time. I feel some sort of kinship with the man in the work and I'm not sure why.

Los Dos Fridas by Frida Kahlo

It was hard to choose from among the Frida paintings as I love them all. In order to choose, I thought back to the exhibit of her work I'd attended at the De Young in San Francisco. I thought about the one work I spent the most time with. It was this one.

La Pistola y El Corazon by George Yepes

There are actually two versions of this painting, one completed in 1989 and one in 2000. It is the 1989 version that is featured on the Los Lobos album of the same name. Sadly, that painting, owned by Sean Penn, burned in a house fire.

George Yepes created a new version of the painting, however, the 1989 version is my favorite. It's darker and more intense. The second seems, to me, like only a riff on the original.

Room on the Verge by Patssi Valdez

I saw this work at the Chicano Visions exhibit at the De Young in San Francisco. The whimsy, the darkness, the movement of this work just drew me in. I sat down on the floor (no chairs or benches) and stared at it.

My fellow gallery goers looked at me like I'd lost my mind. I didn't care. I wished I had five more eyes so I could to take in more of this painting all at once.

It's gorgeous.

Jean D'aire, Burgher of Calais by August Rodin

I have an intense love for Rodin's work and it all speaks to me of hard work and sadness and endurance. I discovered this particular work at the Cantor Center for Visual Arts on the Stanford Campus and it's the one that sticks with me.

It was as part of a photography class that I was introduced to the Rodin Sculpture Garden, and I tried and tried to photograph the very serious faced Burgher. I have one photo that is pretty good, but it is only of his face. This photo shows the entire statue. He is the very definition of pathos.

Rose and Driftwood by Ansel Adams

I saw this at an Ansel Adams exhibit at the Bellagio casino in Las Vegas. The Good Man was there on business for a trade show, so I entertained myself during the days while he worked. I'd seen a lot of Adams before I took in this show, but somehow this little work had escaped my notice. I walked by it the first time and did a cartoon head whip like "whaaaaa?"

I stood in front of it and stared and stared and got lost in the depth of the woodgrain. It's spectacular. It's a gorgeous simplicity that is so hard to accomplish.

Whew...walking through all of this has left me exhausted. In a good way.

Now I need a nap and a vodka drink, not necessarily in that order.

Karenfucius say:

The later you are for an appointment, the closer the needle on your gas gauge is to "E".

The more important the meeting, the darker the clothing you will wear.

The later you are for the meeting, the higher likelihood that you forgot to buy sticky roller.

The bigger the emergency, the fewer bars of coverage you will have.

The bigger the emergency, the fewer bars of battery charge you will have.

When waiting for a vital call, the phone will ring the moment you go to the toilet.

When sleeping, ten inch tall, eleven-pound cat become queen size.

The more valuable the item, the more likely the cat will knock it off the shelf.

After rainy winter, the more sun you have, the more "waaaachooo!" you have.

The more "waaaachooo!" you have, the less Claritin you have.

The more you want to diet, the more your coworkers bring in donuts.

The more rabid you are about your Southwest boarding pass, the more likely it is you'll receive "C".

The more you want to carry on, the less likely it is that any of your toiletries are less than three ounces.

When flying, long legged girl going to Bend.

Tapping Into My Personal Genius

Boy, that's a title, eh?

I'll provide a guarantee right now, this post won't live up to that title.

Maybe it's aspirational. We'll see.

There is a blog I read regularly that takes the form of an online journal. The author is really open and straight forward. It really is like reading her personal diary.

She suffers from quite a bit of writer's block, and so when that happens, she'll do a free association blog post where she asks herself questions and has her mind answer any which way it wants.

I find those posts fascinating as they always contain some nugget of something good that makes the whole exercise worthwhile.

I'm not saying my version of this is going to provide anything other than a nugget of "what the sam hell?" but I'm willing to try.

So. Here we go.

Chatting with myself...

Heeere we go!

Yup, let's go!

We're doin' it!

Crimeny, I'm so blocked I can't even write interviewer questions.

Ugh.

Ok, for real this time.

Hello, welcome to our self-chat. How are you feeling today?

Wait, that's how a therapist likes to start a conversation. "How are you feeeeling?" How am I feeling? Bite me, that's how I'm feeling!

I sense a little hostility.

Congratulations, your sensors are working fine. Can I go?

Yes, you can. But would you stay a minute more?

Why?

Because I asked you nicely.

Fair enough.

Why are you so cranky?

I get cranked up when I have writer's block. It usually comes so easy to me, the words. In fact, I can write too many words. I was constantly admonished by a former boss, a numbers guy, that I wrote too many words.

He was a toad, though, so no need to let his opinions matter.

Isn't writing a process? A flow? Sometimes a raging river, sometimes a trickle?

Thanks. Now I have to go pee.

Some of the greatest writers in the world had and have writer's block.

Sure, sure. I know it's all a part of the creative process but damn, I hate it!

Don't you think railing against it only makes it worse?

Don't you think being a smarty-pants is going to net you the backspace key, repeatedly?

Hey, this is your mental exercise, hot-shot, I'm just asking the questions here.

Oooh, touchy touchy! Fine, yes, I know that railing against writer's block only makes it worse. But railing against [insert item here] is sort of how I make my way through life.

You know, "Hulk mad! Hulk smash!" or something like that.

Yeah. How's that working out for you?

Today, not so well.

What do you think would help clear the block?

I don’t know. It usually passes in its own time.

So, if you can just wait it out, it will resolve itself.

Usually.

So, being patient with yourself and letting it pass by might actually be the quickest route?

Yeah, probably.

So why don't you do that...be patient with yourself?

Damned if I know.

Well, maybe that's something to work on today.

Yeah, you're right. I'll grudgingly admit you are right. Maybe even helpful, too.

Any closing thoughts?

I like pie.

Thank you, and good night....

It's daytime, stupid brain. You good fer nothing piece of......


Thus concludes today's conversation. I hope we've all learned something here. Though I've no idea what that would be.

Every once in a while...

You know, my move to California, lo these many years ago, was really a life changing event for me.

Both a mind blower and a mind stretcher, to be sure.

I never really realized how small my world was until I expanded the reach.

In the first several years I lived here, I explored a lot, and I learned to perfect the face that was outwardly calm, while inside my mind was shouting "HOLY EVER LOVING CRAP, DID YOU **SEE** THAT!?!?!?"

I didn't want people think I was a rube, so I learned to keep my shock and awe to myself, as much as possible. Though many times, my natural exuberance took over and it all burbled out.

I mean, in my time here in the big ol' Bay Area, I've seen some pretty wild things.

Ok, by way of example in the first six months living here, I saw my first true campy transvestite. At well over 6'5", she was dressed as Diana Ross. And spectacularly beautiful. And very sweet too, she was lovely to me.

I just didn't really get to see stuff like that where I grew up.

Over the years, a fantastically beautiful transvestite has become but one of an ever growing list things that has blown my mind.

So, this weekend, I had another occasion to have my mind stretched a bit, again.

On Sunday, I went to an event at a local spiritual bookshop. It was a presentation to be given by a Tibetan Monk.

(Yes, yes, I know transvestite to Tibetan Monk is a wild, weird shift in just the course of the first 280 words of this post. Stick with me.)

Ok, yes, so ok. You went to see a Tibetan Monk, blah, blah, blah, how very new age of you. So what, right?

Well, here's the thing. It was a very small event. And by a series of fortunate circumstances, I was given a seat in the front row.

For three hours I sat there less than five feet away from a genuine Tibetan Monk wearing red robes and speaking the Tibetan language.

I heard him speak of his personal experience of being imprisoned by the Chinese and brutally tortured for teaching Buddhism.

You can hear and read stories of torture. You can have a generalized knowledge that these things happen in the world.

But then when a real human being sits there before you and generously tells their story and shares their pain...well, ok, *pop* goes my brain pan.

I am not a practitioner of Buddhism, nor am I here to advocate any sort of political or religious agenda.

I'm actually more just talking from the mind of a little girl who grew up in New Mexico.

I was very touched and very moved by the talk given by this man. I also envied his inner peace and vowed to try to find but a molecule of that within myself.

I've faced some bumpy roads over the past year of my life. Been holding some anger for some people who have been less than kind to me.

When Phagyab Rinpoche said that compassion is the antidote to anger, I listened.

I don't have answers, but I do believe that your life is changed by all the people you meet on the road we call life.

That red robed Tibetan monk got me thinking. And thinking is good. Thinking can lead to healing.

I could use some healing.

Sometimes I forget

That there is the Pacific Ocean. Photo taken yesterday afternoon during a bout of playing hooky from my responsibilities.

Sometimes, I forget the ocean is right nearby. I mean, I live within about twenty minutes of those rough rolling waves.

How can I forget that?

Sure, I know the fog that creeps over the hill is there because of the ocean. But daily ensconced in my suburban life, doing what I do, I forget that I live so damn close to the gorgeous and perplexing Pacific Ocean.

Needing to clear my mind, I took a drive on a sunny day to listen to the waves and do some real hard thinking.

Due to all the storms we've had this week and last, the water was very high and the waves were crashing. There wasn't even room to walk on the beach, the water level was so high.

So I had to content myself with this little discovery. Someone, I'm guessing a child, put together a lovely little collection of shells.

I inspected every shell in the collection, some nice finds, but left the group where it was. The collector would want it that way.

So, disappointed with my inability to walk and think on the sandy beach, I turned my attention elsewhere.

Half Moon Bay, where I took my jaunt, is a prime grower of pumpkins. So this is high season in HMB.

Man, when I pulled off the road to the pumpkin patch, the light was just perfect. A photographer's dream. I didn't get to shoot any of the pretty little starfish that grow down by the sea, but I was content to shoot bright orange punkins grown large by that healthy sea air.

They had big punkins, medium, punkins, some round, some flat, some tall, some squat.

They had a box of little bitty punkins too. And the sun was so beautiful.

Man, that orange is the color of Autumn.

Well, looking at all that fleshy punkin glory, you know I had to buy one!

This guy will become our jack-o-lantern about three days before Halloween.

I don't often admit it, but I kind of love Autumn. At least while it's still warm and we're still on daylight savings.

My tune may change in November.

Today I've got that "been to the coast" mellow meditative vibe going.

Much needed.

All photos by Karen Fayeth

Life lessons from my craft table

I spent much of Sunday afternoon working on various art and crafting projects. (Check out my Etsy store if you haven't already!)

So while I applied Mod Podge to glass ornaments and shook out glitter and painted and spilled and generally had a heck of a time, I got to pondering.

I'm a ponderer, donchaknow?

"Iiiii'm the kind of gal who likes to think around, oh I'm the ponderer, oh I'm the pondereeeer!"

Sorry. Ahem, random bit of silliness.

Anyhow, while waiting for glue to dry, I thought about the lessons for a better life that I have learned during the art of crafting.

Here's a few I quickly jotted down:

• Angry crafting is not good crafting


Oh yeah. I've sat down at the table, madder than hell about something, and stabbed paint on things, smashed glue into corners and hastily applied decorations.

End result? Unpretty.

To me, creating requires a certain letting go in the mind. Almost a meditation. Not to get all Buddhist or anything, but you have to be in the moment with the paint or glue or papier-mâché or whatever medium you are elbows deep into.


• Sad crafting can sometimes rock.


So very stereotypical to say that you have to be sad and depressed to really create. In fact, I pretty much hate that this concept has become so ubiquitous.

But, I do have to admit, sometimes, when I'm really down, and tired of feeling down, exhausted from the sad, I turn off my brain and let the paintbrush take over (or the keyboard if I'm writing) and I find that in that non-thinking space, I make some of the best stuff.

Then again, I can be crazy-ass happy like a chimpanzee and make cool stuff too.

It all comes back to where your mind is at. Not to put too fine a point on it.


• Tipsy crafting is a no.


Yeah. Worse than angry crafting. You *think* you are doing a great job, but then you wake up the next day and see big gaps you missed, stuff is crooked, left the glue pot open, etc.

Not that drunk crafting isn't fun, it just isn't advisable.

There's letting go the mind and there is letting go of your faculties. Know when to put the glue gun down!

This was a hard lesson learned after sharing a small pitcher of margaritas with The Good Man over homemade enchiladas. Yum!

Should have chosen singing out loud or playing the guitar instead. Will still come out crappy, but no lasting effects to remind!


• A rhinestone or other well placed embellishment can cover a multitude of sins.


When I was learning to drive, my mom always said, "If you miss your turn, just turn around and try again." And you know what? She's always been right. Flat right. Don't panic. Don't freak out. Don't give up on the whole thing.

Just, be calm, and fix it.

Look, they say what makes a book great isn't the initial writing, it is the editing. I think what makes art great isn't that you make something perfectly the first time, but it's about all those "happy accidents." Those goofs you didn't expect but show you something more profound or deeper or more meaningful than you first imagined.

Then sometimes there are just those "oops, my freaking thumb got in the way and now I have a huge ass smudge." That's when you slap a big rhinestone or a button, a milagro or SOMETHING fun over it and smile, because then only YOU know there is a mistake under there.

Everyone else thinks you meant it that way.

Crafting has made me give up on trying to be pefect and learn to welcome those "hey what the!?!? Oh, heeeeeey....." moments.


• And finally, as much as you may love your pets, and believe me, I LOVE my pet a lot, don't craft with your pets nearby.


Let's just say this...I was covering a wooden item in glitter. Glue went on, glitter covered the item in a big pile.

I got up to wash off my glue brush. As I stood, the Feline was fast asleep nearby (on the table actually).

I walked from the room, turned to check, yep, still asleep.

Returned in about two minutes. I find my Feline with glitter ALL over her face and the glitter spread *everywhere*.

Seems she'd taken a sniff, inhaled a bit o' the Crafty Chica Nova Blue, and sneezed.

*sigh*

Also, I got weary of constantly picking cat hair out of my paint and glue and did I mention she likes to sleep on my paint rag?

Feline doesn't get to sleep on the craft table anymore.

So, just exile your pets from your art space. Believe me, this will save many headaches.

Unless pet hair is your medium, then knock yourself out!

All right, enough pondering. Time to get back into my Zen space, pick up my purple acrylic paint, and get back to crafting.

(not my craft table, but might as well be!)