A Treatise on The Gates

I went to NY and NJ last week to visit family and to see Christo's latest art project, "The Gates." After flying all Tuesday night, I arrived in Newark at 6am Wed., where my mom met me and we went straight into the city to meet Audra for breakfast at the Westway Diner (supposedly the inspiration for the diner in Seinfeld). Then we walked to Central Park and the Frick Museum, where my friends Matt and Miyan met us at different points. After lunch at Patsy's Pizzeria (where they make a mighty fine pepperoni pizza!) we walked through the park a little more until it started to rain, thus signaling a return to New Jersey.

I must say, The Gates were beautiful. At first sight they're almost shocking, and in different sections, with varying light and wind, they're downright breathtaking. I especially liked areas where there were thick groves of trees, but you could see little bits of orange through the branches--almost like a game of hide and seek. I was only supposed to spend 1/2 a day in NY, but I felt like I needed to see more and begged my folks to take me back in before my flight home so I could see the northern section of the park.

The Gates has gotten a lot of press--perhaps more so than any other Christo project. There seem to be two questions that keep getting asked repeatedly about the piece, which I must admit, irk me to no end. The first question I keep hearing is, "Was it really worth spending $20 million on?" To people who declare that $20 million could have been put to better use, I have this to say: Oh, how short our collective memory is! I believe it was less than 2 months ago that $40 million was spent for parties on one day for a bunch of fat cats who brag about trampling over the common people, and the city had to foot the bill for the security ($17 million) and the federal government has to reimburse the city for the parade stands ($3 million). (Get your calculators out, folks, that's $60 million.)

What is flowing through Central Park for 16 days is a monumental--yet egalitarian--transcendentally beautiful gift to Everyman. The City of New York and the People of New York did not pay a dime for this project, and the rewards are theirs to reap. Even the proceeds from the sale of memorabilia is being donated to an organization called Nuture New York's Nature. (I think my parents contributed about $125 to New York's economy the 2 days I was there.) If one million people go to see The Gates, that's basically a $20 gift of art from Christo and Jeanne-Claude to each person.

Which brings me to the 2nd question(s) that bugs me: Is it art?/How can it be art if it has no meaning? First of all, at what point did we turn a corner in which art must have a meaning? Or is "meaning" supposed to be proportional to size? (i.e., the larger a piece is, the more mandatory it must be to represent something tangible) When I look at still lifes--paintings of vases and flowers and such--I don't ask myself, "What does it mean?" Maybe I should, but I don't. I evaluate the painting on color, light, composition, and execution. Why is it imperative that 7,500 swatches of saffron fabric must "mean something" but 500 dabs of pale yellow cadmium on a Monet painting get off scot-free?

When I evaluate "The Gates" as I would a still life, here is what I come up with:
Color: a beautiful, joyous orange hue that adds much-needed vitality to the grey, dull colorings of NYC in winter
Light: ever-changing with the sunlight, at times they are incandescent--they spendidly reflect both shadows and warmth
Composition: meticulously spaced throughout the park, in some areas (especially near Belvedere Castle) the effect is not as strong as it could be, but in others it's stunning
Execution: A+, professional, sturdy, respectful of its environment, easily maintained, top-grade materials

I bristle when I hear people ask if it's art, because I can't see it any other way. How can something so beautiful not be art? If Christo and Jeanne-Claude say it's art, why question them? But then I have to remind myself that people asked that same question of Van Gogh, Chagall, Picasso, Duchamp, Boccioni, Rothko, Warhol, Pollock, etc., so they are in good company.

To me, The Gates represent a dream of epic proportions. It took Christo & Jeanne-Claude 26 years to finally realize their dream--an amazing dedication of time and money--so that people might have something beautiful to look at, together, for a little while in one of the drabbest months of the year, in a city full of disconnected people. I can too-readily imagine how dull Central Park will look for the rest of the winter once they come down on Tuesday.

Thanks to my parents for everything (especially the plane ticket, the pizzas, the Dunkin' Donuts, and the subs). Thanks to my family and friends for making time to see me during my short visit. And thanks to Christo and Jeanne-Claude for creating a little bit of beauty. (I'll post my pictures next week!)

The Boredom Quotient: A Meditation On Time Spent vs. Time Lived

The #1 question people have asked me about my move is, "Aren't you going to be bored out there?" Those who know me know I spend every waking moment working, dancing, or taking various art and sewing classes, so it's an entirely understandable question. But my stock answer is, "No-siree-bob!"
One of the more appealing aspects of Telluride is that for a town of its size, there is a lot to do. For instance, I'm really looking forward to taking advantage of the new ice skating rink by learning how to figure skate. I'm also hoping to get involved with the radio station--KOTO--and learn how to dj. What station in L.A. would let me do that???
To satisfy my dance and art class cravings, there's the Telluride Dance Academy and the Ah Haa School of the Arts. There's also a thriving local theatre scene, including an annual playwriting festival.
And did I mention the unlimited hiking, biking, skiing, and horseback riding? My goals include hiking the Sneffels highline and Lizard Head Pass.
I must admit, too, that at this point I view the limitation of events as a blessing. I'm absolutely craving more free time to paint and write. In a city you can easily find something to do every night of the week, which isn't at all conducive to finding quality "alone time."

But aside from all the activities, one of the most important things Telluride and Norwood has to offer is a chance to participate in a community. The sheer number of items in a city can be overwhelming--the number of people, cars, neighborhoods, restaurants, museums, bars, organizations, apartment buildings, shops, etc., etc., etc. It's neverending. An individual faces the danger of being drowned in this mass volume, which in turn could lead to feelings of uselessness or helplessness. How can one little person of limited resources and contacts possibly make an impact in a city of millions? It's a daunting task.

However, in a small town it is very possible for one person to positively affect a relatively large number of people by doing something as easy as volunteering for a benefit. For instance, if I donate $25 to the Norwood Public Library, I am potentially affecting 450 people. If I donate the same amount to the L.A. Public Library how many will benefit? Maybe 1 or 2. It's wonderful and inspiring to dream grandiose dreams, but sometimes their execution is not possible in a place of limitless options, because that's where everybody goes. Sometimes the solution is to scale down in order to make your dreams more viable.

One of my favorite contemporary writers, William Rivers Pitt, wrote an article this week titled One For All in which he states, "Each of us holds the life and well-being of our neighbors in our hands. We can choose to lift each other up, or we can shrug and decide it isn’t our problem. If we are indeed a community, if we are indeed good, we can make the choice to do that lifting." He was commenting on the proposed Social Security changes, but it applies in every sense. In the city--in this city--there are communities, but there is not community. There are groups organized around common interests or areas, but there is no unification, the connections feel slight. It's very easy to not connect at all.

But in Norwood I will have to be part of the community. It's much too small a town to live in a state of complete disconnection. I will be moving into their territory, and I will be expected to reach out to my neighbors if I want to be welcomed. (And, believe me, it's much too tiny to be unwelcome!) So the choice I'm making is between living a smaller life for a greater overall benefit, or continuing an existence in a place where mass suffocates individuality and (ironically) breeds alienation. I know that I will have to forego some of my extracurricular activities, but I'm hoping to gain much more in their place.

The Bad with The Good

When uprooting your life as you know it and finding the courage to start anew, you want to believe only the best about wherever you're going next. It's not just a desire, it's an absolute necessity to paint the sunniest side of the picture and to share that sunny vision with your friends and family.
So what should you do when something less than desirable about your newly adopted location is made known to you? Your first instinct is to not tell anybody about it. It only gives your friends fodder to add to their "Don't Go" chant. It may plant a nagging seed of worry in your plans. Moving's hard enough--you don't need to add even a pinch of doubt to it.
And so, I thought I was just going to bury the news. Pretend I didn't hear anything. But then I realized that, in fairness to this particular blog, it should be posted here. Because after all, this is supposed to be about "Trials and Tribulations," not "The Supreme Happiness Of Living In a Teeny Tiny Western Town."
Both of these news items appeared in The Norwood Post this week. The first one is minorly disturbing, but with a comic edge which qualifies it as a "quirk" of backwoods life. The second is just undeniably, blatantly, scarily wrong.

1.) "Norwood Resident Released On $60,000 Bond": One of my soon-to-be-new neighbors had a gun that he really, really liked: a 9 mm P89DC Ruger with special grips. “A beautiful gun,” he said. (Red light #1: Probably everybody in Norwood will own at least one gun, except me.) Some co-workers stopped by his house one day, bringing along 2 shady characters with them, and the gun disappeared. Despite admonitions from his buddies at the local bar The Hitchin' Post (Red light #2: This is where I'm bound to meet my future husband), he decided to pursue the thieves himself, and when he found them there was a confrontation. (Go figure.) Here's where it gets good--a play-by-play of what the man was thinking when he saw the thief with a gun in his hand: "Newman said he wasn’t about to get shot with his own gun, which was loaded with Black Talon bullets, bullets so deadly they have recently been banned. Newman knew what those bullets would do to human flesh, so he pulled his .44 caliber Ruger Redhawk revolver." (Red light #3: Logic may not preceed action when guns are involved.) Then there's a whole 'nother incident which is too long to relate, but which ends up getting the "victim" arrested. And so here's the kicker to the whole story, which I just love: "In the eight years he’s lived in the area, James Newman said he has never locked his doors. He felt safe for two main reasons: because he lives in a quiet, law-abiding place; and because he if anybody tried to break into his house, they’d have to face down his Super Blackhawk .44 or his Remington rifle.
But after Sunday, the police searched his home and took all his guns, and the run-in shattered his sense of security. Now he locks his front door, his back door, and even his gate. 'I’m worried, damn right I’m worried,' said Newman. 'I’m left defenseless. If these felonies go through, I won’t be able to hunt anymore.'"
Yeah, I'm worried about him not being able to "hunt" anymore, too.

from a site called Firearms Tactical, here's 2 rules that Newman probably should have followed to keep out of jail:
4. DISPLAY YOUR GUN, GO TO JAIL. Expect to be arrested by police at gunpoint, and be charged with a crime anytime your concealed handgun is seen by another citizen in public, regardless of how unintentional or innocent or justified the situation might seem. Choose a method of carry that reliably keeps your gun hidden from public view at all times. Before you expose your gun in public, ask yourself: "Is this worth going to jail for?" (I don't think James asked himself this question.)

5. DON’T LET YOUR EMOTIONS GET THE BEST OF YOU. If, despite your best efforts to the contrary, you do get into some kind of heated dispute with another person while you’re armed, never mention, imply or exhibit your gun for the purpose of intimidation or one-upmanship. You’ll simply make a bad situation worse -- for yourself (see rule #4). (Again, James, you might want to reread your "concealed weapons" rules.)



2.) "Parents Censor High School Literature and Are Allowed To Burn Books They Find Offensive": A teacher at Norwood High assigned the novel "Bless Me, Ultima" by Rudolfo Anaya. The book is about a young man learning to bridge cultural gaps and questioning his religion. Some parents said it was full of profanity and pagan references. "The parents approached the superintendent and asked that they be able to burn the books instead of the school janitor destroying them. Conder granted them their request, as he has the right to dispose of them."
At first I thought this was a joke. I kept checking my calendar to make sure it wasn't April 1st already. But no, this is horrifyingly true. What fucking century are you living in, people??? Did you ENJOY the Nazi regime??? Are these your fucking morals??? Don't promote MULTI-CULTURALISM or FREEDOM OF RELIGION??? Jesus Fucking Christ!!! (Please excuse my language.)

Kudos to the students of Norwood High for protesting their parents' idiocy. Here's another article about it in the Rocky Mountain News. (Upon closer investigation, it's been revealed that only 3 people are actually responsible for this atrocity--John & Rhonda Oliver, and the superintendent, Bob Conder. It looks like the majority of the town is going to rally against the censorship. Whew! Another funny sidebar--it's one of the 9 novels recommended by Laura Bush. That's a hoot!)

The true irony: The very next story was lauding the local librarian for keeping the library up and running for 25 years.

"Making a Break For Freedom"

I came across this piece in the Telluride Daily Planet the other week. Writer David Feela tells the story of a normally complacent horse suddenly freeing himself from his confines, even though it means going through barbed wire.

Feela writes, "As [the owner] led the horse out, I suddenly knew how such a placid animal could have behaved so rashly, charging a barbed wire fence. The last time it happened to me, I wound up in western Colorado. But I was pulling a trailer packed with a few hundred necessities. I unpacked them all [and] took a deep breath of the clear Western air.... I'd like to think that that horse and me are some kind of kin--patient, yet yearning for the unbridled life. We make our halfhearted breaks for freedom, searching for a slightly different perspective of that same old mountain."

I'll be joining them in their search in just 5 short months.

Meanwhile, here's a picture of my newly adopted "hometown," Norwood, CO.