Sunday, September 18, 2005
Deleted Comments
Comments removed were simply promos for other websites and had no bearing on my posts. "Real" comments will always be left....comments that seek to only attack this blog for commercial purposes will always be swiftly removed. Such comments are clearly automated and so the latest frontier of the capitalist hacking juggernaut. They are an attack on Free Speech, if anyone still cares about this. Their perpitrators ought to be identified and prosecuted. Individual speech is fabulous, but having my speech blindly co-opted for the purpose of commerce is not OK. randuwa
What I'm Reading Periodically #1
The Gay & Lesbian Review from Harvard University is a treasure to the progressive world. This issue, no exception. The top articles include a response to the question "Are there elements of your gay identity that you especially value as a writer, elements that might contribute to your ability to have a distinctive voice?" which 10 of the most interesting Gay poets take a stab at answering. Among my favorites in the group or Henri Cole and David Trinidad. I own books by 9 of them: with a cartoon of Oscar Wilde on the cover and another excellent article on the fall of this quintessential gay icon from power to death for the love of ego and love.
There is also an homage/retrospective to the late poet, Thom Gunn (1929-2004). And a wonderful piece that traces the lineage between the works of Whitman -- Ginzberg -- Monette. Yes, it's a Poetry Issue.
And there is SO much more to give one pause to think about.... and desire to respond to. There is an essay on the difficulty of being both gay and Asian and 'wanting to/yet not' feeling at home in either community. And many interesting reviews; Not the least of which is C. Capozzola's take on "Eakins Revealed: The Secret Life of an American Artist" by Henry Adams.
It is one of the most reasonable rags devoted to "fags" in all our permutations and gender-ations on the market from the flag ship institution of Higher Learning in America. I think everyone should read it, but then, I still have an open-mind.
There is also an homage/retrospective to the late poet, Thom Gunn (1929-2004). And a wonderful piece that traces the lineage between the works of Whitman -- Ginzberg -- Monette. Yes, it's a Poetry Issue.
And there is SO much more to give one pause to think about.... and desire to respond to. There is an essay on the difficulty of being both gay and Asian and 'wanting to/yet not' feeling at home in either community. And many interesting reviews; Not the least of which is C. Capozzola's take on "Eakins Revealed: The Secret Life of an American Artist" by Henry Adams.
It is one of the most reasonable rags devoted to "fags" in all our permutations and gender-ations on the market from the flag ship institution of Higher Learning in America. I think everyone should read it, but then, I still have an open-mind.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Random Quote #24
Eskimo: "If I did not know about God and sin, would I go to hell?"
Priest: "No, not if you did not know."
Eskimo: "Then why did you tell me?"
~ Annie Dillard, 1945 -
Priest: "No, not if you did not know."
Eskimo: "Then why did you tell me?"
~ Annie Dillard, 1945 -
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
My Ludite Tendencies
I rarely watch TV. My little set is about the size of a postage stamp! and obscurely tucked away on a shelf where it is dwarfed by volumes from Art Exhibitions at major museums. The only shows that even briefly catch my attention these days are "The Weather Channel," "Judge Judy" (What a pack of idiots....they don't even get 15 minutes of fame; not that they deserve even one!), and "The Simpsons" -- The best window on progressive culture in the history of the medium, and it's funny, too!
Yet, I have not wasted electricity on the medium for 5 days now, and often go without it for weeks on end. My abstinence really took off this past summer. Just too many other things to focus on.
I also don't read a newspaper, and am very selective in my magazine choices. I read "The New Yorker," "Art in America," and "Poetry" with religious zeal. I also subscribe to "The Gay & Lesbian Review" from Harvard University, and "American Patchwork and Quilting" -- what Gay Quilter doesn't!?
So today when my progressive colleague at school shared with me the results of the most recent Washington Post survey which found that 44% of Americans thought Bush-the-Lesser has done a good job regaurding the Katrina relief response, I thought:
"Wow. I had no idea that that many Americans either didn't own a TV or are blatant Racists!" Go figure.....
Yet, I have not wasted electricity on the medium for 5 days now, and often go without it for weeks on end. My abstinence really took off this past summer. Just too many other things to focus on.
I also don't read a newspaper, and am very selective in my magazine choices. I read "The New Yorker," "Art in America," and "Poetry" with religious zeal. I also subscribe to "The Gay & Lesbian Review" from Harvard University, and "American Patchwork and Quilting" -- what Gay Quilter doesn't!?
So today when my progressive colleague at school shared with me the results of the most recent Washington Post survey which found that 44% of Americans thought Bush-the-Lesser has done a good job regaurding the Katrina relief response, I thought:
"Wow. I had no idea that that many Americans either didn't own a TV or are blatant Racists!" Go figure.....
Cosa Rican Memoir #7
Here I sit in the restaurant of the Hotel Miami in Limón, Costa Rica in 1984 on the eve of our Tortuguero adventure. We are about to recieve a simple and lavish feast of "gallo pinto" rice and beans! It sounds plain, but left to the Costa Ricans it's an incredibly delicious dish.
How much simplier life seemed back then. Young and adventerous (as opposed to mature and adventurous!) the trip to get to this place and moment involved a tenuous bus ride and a magnificent train ride from the capital of San José on a holiday wekend when every mode of transportation was both over booked and taxed to it's legal and physical limits! So this photo depicts an event of great respite. The next phase of this strand can be found at (Costa Rican Memoir #2, parts 1-4 in June's archive).
How much simplier life seemed back then. Young and adventerous (as opposed to mature and adventurous!) the trip to get to this place and moment involved a tenuous bus ride and a magnificent train ride from the capital of San José on a holiday wekend when every mode of transportation was both over booked and taxed to it's legal and physical limits! So this photo depicts an event of great respite. The next phase of this strand can be found at (Costa Rican Memoir #2, parts 1-4 in June's archive).
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Zimbabwe Memoire #6
I am reminded of an evening in Harare as my mind considers the pure evil that is racism, and how it permeates peoples who live in far flung places and whose means are far from the lavish wealth of our grace laden nation.
You may recall that I alluded to trouble regarding the lunches offered to me and my traveling companions while touring Lake Kariba (Zimbabwe Memoir #3 ~ August 3, 2005). In fact, my friends became ill with some intestinally based bug that lasted for the majority of our brief stay in Harare, while I remained healthy and free to roam. In Harare we stayed in the home of a friend of one of my traveling companions, Mr. O, a friend who was not in the country at the time; therefore, it was a little like a B & B with a few servants to make the stay effortless. The main man was a black Zimbabwean named Mr. I, who also resided in a little cottage on the grounds of the home. The owner was a successful Dentist of European heritage. It was our last leg of our tour of the country and actually a very nice way to end the visit (for me).
There, I was the ultimate stranger. I was only welcome via my relationship to Mr. O, and I not only didn't know the absentee host...I didn't know anyone! On the first evening of our stay, the brother of a member of my friend's church in Claremont, South Africa rang to invite us all over to his place, but only I was in any condition to accept. So bored with hanging around the place, I accepted to his enthusiastic "Grand!" Within minutes he pulled up in a mostly open jeep and looking every bit the twin of the English character actor, Terry Thomas (right down to the gap between his front teeth and the bushy moustache), he shook my hand as I climbed aboard and off we sped.
He lived in the home of his family. His parents had left for life back in England amid the deteriorating state of things in Zimbabwe, and his sister immigrated to South Africa after marrying. His home was nice, but not nearly as nice at the Dentist's, where I was staying. The main house (a sort of bungalow design) fit the lot snuggly and then in the rear there was a modest courtyard with a few simple single rooms detached from the main edifice lining the back of the property. Most of the "yard" was tiled like a patio.
Immediately upon my arrival he called out to the three Zimbabweans with whom he lived. Each resided in a separate one of the detached units in the back, and all shared the living, cooking, and toilet spaces in the main house. Two were beautiful young men, both students at the University, and the third was an older woman who also maintained the cleaning, cooking, and laundry in the home for room and board and a modest salary. In spite of the fact that it was well after dark, hot tea was offered and accepted, and the woman went to fetch it. I was introduced to all and the young men spoke of their studies and hopes for the future. When the tea arrived, one of the young men was dispatched to bring a telescope into the courtyard where we were gathered and amidst the fellowship and hospitality we took turns looking at the surface of the moon and Mars.
Interior lights and candles created an ambient glow similar to that of being at a campfire, and as the conversation took center stage again, the woman coyly asked me a question. "Do you think I am beautiful?" It quite took me be surprise, as vanity was just not something I had any experience of in Africa to that moment. I remember registering the question with a slight jerk -- the way you respond to anything that you find hard to believe, and I said, "Of course you're beautiful." She smiled like a shy school girl (a grown woman of I would assume at least 50 at the time), and responded, "Oh, No, good sir; I am too dark. I am not like the pretty women of Cape Town." My heart was pierced with sorrow; I will never forget that moment.
Today I live in a very diverse community just outside of Washington, D.C. People with whom I come in daily contact are from every conceivable corner of the world. I am often the only white in the store; and when others are present, we are rarely the majority. I have come to see people as simply beautiful. And that night in the golden glow of the flame, looking into the impossibly deep eyes of those three black Zimbabweans, I was so beguiled and blessed by their open hearts, their generosity of time and presence, their patience with me as I attempted to see what they could see in the lens of the telescope.... it was a magical moment by all accounts. And yet, there reared the evil presence of racism.
I do not remember what I told her. No doubt because whatever it might have been, I ought to have remained silent and simply wept. It was a comment that words could not fix, and so the companionship of tears would have been the only "voice" worth hearing.
I've been crying a lot lately.
You may recall that I alluded to trouble regarding the lunches offered to me and my traveling companions while touring Lake Kariba (Zimbabwe Memoir #3 ~ August 3, 2005). In fact, my friends became ill with some intestinally based bug that lasted for the majority of our brief stay in Harare, while I remained healthy and free to roam. In Harare we stayed in the home of a friend of one of my traveling companions, Mr. O, a friend who was not in the country at the time; therefore, it was a little like a B & B with a few servants to make the stay effortless. The main man was a black Zimbabwean named Mr. I, who also resided in a little cottage on the grounds of the home. The owner was a successful Dentist of European heritage. It was our last leg of our tour of the country and actually a very nice way to end the visit (for me).
There, I was the ultimate stranger. I was only welcome via my relationship to Mr. O, and I not only didn't know the absentee host...I didn't know anyone! On the first evening of our stay, the brother of a member of my friend's church in Claremont, South Africa rang to invite us all over to his place, but only I was in any condition to accept. So bored with hanging around the place, I accepted to his enthusiastic "Grand!" Within minutes he pulled up in a mostly open jeep and looking every bit the twin of the English character actor, Terry Thomas (right down to the gap between his front teeth and the bushy moustache), he shook my hand as I climbed aboard and off we sped.
He lived in the home of his family. His parents had left for life back in England amid the deteriorating state of things in Zimbabwe, and his sister immigrated to South Africa after marrying. His home was nice, but not nearly as nice at the Dentist's, where I was staying. The main house (a sort of bungalow design) fit the lot snuggly and then in the rear there was a modest courtyard with a few simple single rooms detached from the main edifice lining the back of the property. Most of the "yard" was tiled like a patio.
Immediately upon my arrival he called out to the three Zimbabweans with whom he lived. Each resided in a separate one of the detached units in the back, and all shared the living, cooking, and toilet spaces in the main house. Two were beautiful young men, both students at the University, and the third was an older woman who also maintained the cleaning, cooking, and laundry in the home for room and board and a modest salary. In spite of the fact that it was well after dark, hot tea was offered and accepted, and the woman went to fetch it. I was introduced to all and the young men spoke of their studies and hopes for the future. When the tea arrived, one of the young men was dispatched to bring a telescope into the courtyard where we were gathered and amidst the fellowship and hospitality we took turns looking at the surface of the moon and Mars.
Interior lights and candles created an ambient glow similar to that of being at a campfire, and as the conversation took center stage again, the woman coyly asked me a question. "Do you think I am beautiful?" It quite took me be surprise, as vanity was just not something I had any experience of in Africa to that moment. I remember registering the question with a slight jerk -- the way you respond to anything that you find hard to believe, and I said, "Of course you're beautiful." She smiled like a shy school girl (a grown woman of I would assume at least 50 at the time), and responded, "Oh, No, good sir; I am too dark. I am not like the pretty women of Cape Town." My heart was pierced with sorrow; I will never forget that moment.
Today I live in a very diverse community just outside of Washington, D.C. People with whom I come in daily contact are from every conceivable corner of the world. I am often the only white in the store; and when others are present, we are rarely the majority. I have come to see people as simply beautiful. And that night in the golden glow of the flame, looking into the impossibly deep eyes of those three black Zimbabweans, I was so beguiled and blessed by their open hearts, their generosity of time and presence, their patience with me as I attempted to see what they could see in the lens of the telescope.... it was a magical moment by all accounts. And yet, there reared the evil presence of racism.
I do not remember what I told her. No doubt because whatever it might have been, I ought to have remained silent and simply wept. It was a comment that words could not fix, and so the companionship of tears would have been the only "voice" worth hearing.
I've been crying a lot lately.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
America's Endemic Racism
A friend sent these images to me.
"Loot" or "Find". What's the difference?
Can you tell?
Three among many who gathered food which was destine to mold and rot in order to preserve their lives in a situation that every federal official has called unprecedented, and in which NO Federal response was forth coming for days.... So why is one man "looting" while another couple is merely "finding"? Click the image and read the text included with the photos....
SHAME on us! Shame on us for electing racist leaders, and SHAME on us for not rising up and demanding better!
"Loot" or "Find". What's the difference?
Can you tell?
Three among many who gathered food which was destine to mold and rot in order to preserve their lives in a situation that every federal official has called unprecedented, and in which NO Federal response was forth coming for days.... So why is one man "looting" while another couple is merely "finding"? Click the image and read the text included with the photos....
SHAME on us! Shame on us for electing racist leaders, and SHAME on us for not rising up and demanding better!
Saturday, September 03, 2005
What I'm Listening to #4
I ordered this CD before Katrina made her mark. It arrived on the Monday. I have been listening to it every since. I just made the connection!
Rosie represents the new face of Zydeco. Her music is a seemingly effortless fusion between traditional Zydeco and a broader range of contemporary sounds. She, no doubt, makes Zydeco more accessible to the average listener. I hope her work will find that audience, and that in so doing broaden the musical tastes of the uninitiated.
Bonne Écoute!
Rosie represents the new face of Zydeco. Her music is a seemingly effortless fusion between traditional Zydeco and a broader range of contemporary sounds. She, no doubt, makes Zydeco more accessible to the average listener. I hope her work will find that audience, and that in so doing broaden the musical tastes of the uninitiated.
Bonne Écoute!
Random Quote #23
"Love is like infinity: You can’t have more or less infinity, and you can’t compare two things to see if they’re “equally infinite.” Infinity just is, and that’s the way love is, too."
~ Fred “Mr.” Rogers, 1929 - 2003
~ Fred “Mr.” Rogers, 1929 - 2003
Friday, September 02, 2005
$3.49 A Gallon
.....for regular gas in Washington, DC. I live just north and east of the District, and coming home stations were running out of gas and lines were snarling traffic everywhere. (While the Republican governor of Maryland was telling us that there wasn't any shortage....does anyone believe in reality, anymore?) While I waited to reach the pump, one of the attendants began changing the prices by removing the dollar markers first! I know it's worse in other places...I imagine we are all in for a time of uncertainty and anxiety.
And yet, how blessed we are by comparison.
FACTS
A greater percentage of people in New York City own private cars than did in New Orleans.
The poverty rate in New Orleans was one of the highest in the nation at 38%.
Nearly 70% of the population was African American, and well over half of that population subsisted below the poverty level.
New Orleans is only the largest community in the devastated path of Katrina, and the demographics were basically the same for the region.
The region supported a population 6 times greater than the city of New Orleans.
When you tell people who have no means and no ability that they must evacuate, and do not provide them with a way to comply....what are you telling them?
Prepare to die? So much for compassionate conservatism.....
And yet, how blessed we are by comparison.
FACTS
A greater percentage of people in New York City own private cars than did in New Orleans.
The poverty rate in New Orleans was one of the highest in the nation at 38%.
Nearly 70% of the population was African American, and well over half of that population subsisted below the poverty level.
New Orleans is only the largest community in the devastated path of Katrina, and the demographics were basically the same for the region.
The region supported a population 6 times greater than the city of New Orleans.
When you tell people who have no means and no ability that they must evacuate, and do not provide them with a way to comply....what are you telling them?
Prepare to die? So much for compassionate conservatism.....
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Katrina Got Personal
My heart is torn; and as lame as it is to say, my prayers and thoughts are drawn toward the victims of hurricane Katrina. For everyone affected in New Orleans; 3 or 4 or 10 times as many people are also impacted by this tragedy across Louisiana, Mississippi and southern Alabama.
It's all just too much to grasp. So I grasp at what I know. I know friends, Mr. & Mrs. A., who moved to New Orleans from Washington, DC last summer to work at Tulane. Settling into the community, they purchased their first home there this summer. I have this email from Mr. A:
"Dear Friends,
As emails come in, I was trying to answer them all individually, but have been unable to keep up. For those who don't know, [we] moved to New Orleans a year ago and just bought a house before hurricane Katrina recently hit. We left the city, are fine, staying with [Mrs. A's] aunt and uncle near Houston, TX. We are not sure, but are assuming from the footage and where we lived near the Industrial Canal that our house is a total loss. We were able to pack the computer, some clothes, and our two dogs. It will probably be easiest to reach us via email over the coming weeks.
Hope that all is well with all of you, things with us are not so good, but always have to remember that they could be much worse and we are fortunate compared to many in the city."
Not much else to say. But here's a final thought: we are so acclamated to the idea of "control". And we imagine that our control is among other things a guarantee for our comfort. Katrina profoundly demonstrates that the consistent and comfortable status of our lives is far more tenuous than we probably think.
It's all just too much to grasp. So I grasp at what I know. I know friends, Mr. & Mrs. A., who moved to New Orleans from Washington, DC last summer to work at Tulane. Settling into the community, they purchased their first home there this summer. I have this email from Mr. A:
"Dear Friends,
As emails come in, I was trying to answer them all individually, but have been unable to keep up. For those who don't know, [we] moved to New Orleans a year ago and just bought a house before hurricane Katrina recently hit. We left the city, are fine, staying with [Mrs. A's] aunt and uncle near Houston, TX. We are not sure, but are assuming from the footage and where we lived near the Industrial Canal that our house is a total loss. We were able to pack the computer, some clothes, and our two dogs. It will probably be easiest to reach us via email over the coming weeks.
Hope that all is well with all of you, things with us are not so good, but always have to remember that they could be much worse and we are fortunate compared to many in the city."
Not much else to say. But here's a final thought: we are so acclamated to the idea of "control". And we imagine that our control is among other things a guarantee for our comfort. Katrina profoundly demonstrates that the consistent and comfortable status of our lives is far more tenuous than we probably think.
Monday, August 29, 2005
A New School Year Begins
Again, I have just embarked on the 22nd year of my career as a teacher! I have 22 4th graders to start with on this present adventure. Today, we developed our "Ground Rules".
I have to share the first one with you.
#1 - HOW DO I BEHAVE WITH OTHER STUDENTS?
• I keep my hands and feet to myself
• I treat others in the same way that I want to be treated
• I don’t use unkind words when speaking to or about others
The future is still bright, even as clouds and hurricanes shroud our present......
I have to share the first one with you.
#1 - HOW DO I BEHAVE WITH OTHER STUDENTS?
• I keep my hands and feet to myself
• I treat others in the same way that I want to be treated
• I don’t use unkind words when speaking to or about others
The future is still bright, even as clouds and hurricanes shroud our present......
What I'm Listening To: #3
Great Album.
Soraya is an Argentinian singer who performs in Spanish. She is also a cancer survivor, which is part of her persona.
Her voice is amazing. And this album showcases this more than any other. She is a little "Sarah-MacLaughlin-esque"
And well worth the dime/peso.
Soraya is an Argentinian singer who performs in Spanish. She is also a cancer survivor, which is part of her persona.
Her voice is amazing. And this album showcases this more than any other. She is a little "Sarah-MacLaughlin-esque"
And well worth the dime/peso.
Friday, August 26, 2005
School Begins On Monday
Here I am with my dear colleagues, Ms. E and Ms. D. All of us are grade 4 teachers at my school. We have just completed a week of pre-school activities and preparations. The show opens on Monday. My 22nd season (Yes, I started at age 2!).
I work in a great school, with amazing people. Our kids do well on standard assessments, our parents are involved and very caring. You hear so much negative stuff about education in America. And like any crisis, bad news gets attention.
Bless teachers who have the courage to teach the truth and trust their students to think for themselves.
I work in a great school, with amazing people. Our kids do well on standard assessments, our parents are involved and very caring. You hear so much negative stuff about education in America. And like any crisis, bad news gets attention.
Bless teachers who have the courage to teach the truth and trust their students to think for themselves.
Random Quotes #20 thru #22
"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."
"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."
"Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree."
~ The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., 1929 - 1968
"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."
"Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree."
~ The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., 1929 - 1968
Monday, August 22, 2005
Zimbabwe Memoire #5
The first place that I visited in Zimbabwe was the southern city of Bulawayo. At the time the second largest city in the country after the capital of Hirare. Perhaps owing to the timing of the end of the dry season, it presented itself as a rather beige and dusty place.
I had the privilege of staying in the home of a retired British couple, who knew no end to the concept of hospitality. On our first full day there, they took us to Matopas National Park just south of Bulawayo. There we toured in their jeep and eventually hiked around.
The fame of Matopas is based on its natural rock formations. Huge stones found perched upon other bolders. Many have names, like the one in the top photo -- "Horse-rider". It was the place were I saw my first rhinocerous in the wild.
As we penetrated the park, we eventually reached a unique grave and monument. The final resting place of Sir Cecil Rhodes. The namesake of both colonies of Northern (Zambia) and Southern (Zimbabwe) Rhodesia. The basis and namesake of the Rhode's Scholars. Historically, an important person. Yet his grave was hewn into a piece of granet in the middle of nowhere....
What will future generations make of this? What should they? Explorer, Oppressor, Imperialist, Adventurer.... How do we judge a man against the backdrop of his age?
How do we judge ourselves?
I had the privilege of staying in the home of a retired British couple, who knew no end to the concept of hospitality. On our first full day there, they took us to Matopas National Park just south of Bulawayo. There we toured in their jeep and eventually hiked around.
The fame of Matopas is based on its natural rock formations. Huge stones found perched upon other bolders. Many have names, like the one in the top photo -- "Horse-rider". It was the place were I saw my first rhinocerous in the wild.
As we penetrated the park, we eventually reached a unique grave and monument. The final resting place of Sir Cecil Rhodes. The namesake of both colonies of Northern (Zambia) and Southern (Zimbabwe) Rhodesia. The basis and namesake of the Rhode's Scholars. Historically, an important person. Yet his grave was hewn into a piece of granet in the middle of nowhere....
What will future generations make of this? What should they? Explorer, Oppressor, Imperialist, Adventurer.... How do we judge a man against the backdrop of his age?
How do we judge ourselves?
Saturday, August 20, 2005
I Am A Quilter
Not necessarily something a man does. But I have always been creative and have chosen various mediums of expression over the years. At one point I was deeply into watercolor painting, for example. But since around 1990, I have been quilting.
This is one of my latest creations. A piece of what I hope will become something larger as I play with it. I used batiks for the most part and so it's really not unlike watercolor painting in that you get the general color you expected, but the particulars remain on some level random.
Closest thing to a definition of "control" in this life that I can think of.
This is one of my latest creations. A piece of what I hope will become something larger as I play with it. I used batiks for the most part and so it's really not unlike watercolor painting in that you get the general color you expected, but the particulars remain on some level random.
Closest thing to a definition of "control" in this life that I can think of.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Kudus to the AVAM in Balitmore
I had the chance this last week to take in the American Visionary Art Museum's current show on the theme of water. And it was again, an utterly amazing experience. Ending on September 4th, I was happy to catch it on its tail end.
On display were paintings and sculptures; some relatively small like this one by "Mr. Imagination". Themes included Haitian Voudoo chambers, carefully carved mechanized wooden scultures, and images created by an NYC recluse out of hundreds of clipped up postage stamps, to attempt to describe but a few.
And this is the genius of the AVAM: attempts to describe what you've seen always fall short. The visions are to be experienced and shared with those with whom you experience the art, but others will never get it. The vision is just too intimate.
On display were paintings and sculptures; some relatively small like this one by "Mr. Imagination". Themes included Haitian Voudoo chambers, carefully carved mechanized wooden scultures, and images created by an NYC recluse out of hundreds of clipped up postage stamps, to attempt to describe but a few.
And this is the genius of the AVAM: attempts to describe what you've seen always fall short. The visions are to be experienced and shared with those with whom you experience the art, but others will never get it. The vision is just too intimate.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Random Quote #19
"Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board."
~ Zora Neale Hurston, 1891 - 1960
~ Zora Neale Hurston, 1891 - 1960
Monday, August 15, 2005
Haiku #2
SUMMER MOON
It’s not like anything
they compare it to—
the summer moon.
~ Basho
1644 - 1694
It’s not like anything
they compare it to—
the summer moon.
~ Basho
1644 - 1694
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