Sharon Art Studio

Class has started again after the break at the Sharon Art Studio. I first began taking classes here 12 years ago. I started with glass, then enameling and jewelery, small metal work, now back downstairs for glass again. I have the same teacher that I did 12 years ago, and nothing has changed. The studio is a beautiful building on the edge of Sharon Meadow in GGP, just above the Haight. It looks like a fairy tale cottage made of stone blocks with a steep roof. The glass studio portion is on the main floor. The room has a very high vaulted ceiling with decorative, open beams. Tall windows line the walls on three sides filling the room with light, and offering views into the park. What a wonderful place to create. I am the youngest person in my small class. Most folks are over 50 and have been working in the studio for many years. I pull my work in progress from my little cubby shelf and gather my tools from the closet. I stake my claim on a large table and plug into my iPod. For just a few hours a week I can tune out and let my hands work. Cutting out the pattern piece by piece. Tracing the pattern piece onto glass with a sharpie, then dipping the cutter in oil and with a careful eye, tounge wedged into the corner of my mouth I trace the line with a cutter. Once you start the cut, you can't stop until you're done. Just enough pressure. I tap the glass for luck, then using a small breaker, snap the shape out. Of course it doesn't fit as perfectly as it should, so I carefully grind an edge or two until it fits against the other pieces, nice and snug. Then I cut the lead, trim the edges and wrap it against the new piece. Slowly, meticulously I plod along. A few more months, and it will be done, catching the light and gleaming colors into my living room for years to come.

First Exposures

This is Robert. He was a kid that I worked with in First Exposures. FX is a mentoring program that pairs "at risk" youth with mentors to learn how to express themselves through photography. I worked with FX in 2004 as a mentor for one school year. FX is sponsored by Camerwork, a photo gallery in San Francisco. Every Saturday we'd get together as a group and shoot pictures, print in the darkroom, walk around the dogpark and get to know each other. I remember the director once saying "just by being here, every Saturday, you're making a difference." That made me feel good. This year, the director created a book project and the kids published a book of their work. Some of the kids that I worked with were featured in the book. On Thursday, they had a big gallery show at Camerawork. Their photographs were professionally matted and framed and hung on the white gallery walls. There were pictures of kids skating, kids throwing up gang signs, kids laughing. There were portraits, self portraits and urban street scenes. There were pictures from the series that our class produced into billboards in 2004 that served as public service announcements geared toward tolerance. Standing there in the gallery, looking at these pictures, I beamed. I beamed so brightly, so proudly I thought my heart would burst. I hugged a few kids, shocked that they remembered me (after all, 2 years is like sooooo long ago!). I chatted with Eric, the current director about what they were working on this year. He told me that they were going to explore the term "at risk" as they had been lableled by the program. How did they see themselves as at risk? When I worked with them, I often wondered what school counselor or social worker had steered them into the program, and why, but I never asked. I didn't want it to affect my relationship to them. I only wanted to see what they wanted to show me of themselves. Obviously some kids had it harder than others. As I was chatting with Eric, a student came up to talk with us. He was 16. Super bright- smart, well spoken, sweet, sincere. He was proud of what they had accomplished this year and he clearly held Eric in high esteem. After he left us, Eric told me that that young man had one of the saddest stories as far as his background was concerned. Whatever his story was, First Exposures had helped him through a hard time and he was clearly grateful to have been involved. It was this young man's words that I read on the wall as I entered the gallery- "My camera is my third eye, First Exposures is my second home and photography is my first love".

Girls night out

Every one needs to get out with their buddies once in a while. For mommies, it's hard to get away. It used to be that my girlfriends and I met once a week. Now my hours away from the family are really limited, and usually one of us is working- it's hard to sinc up. Over the holidays we all worked too much from Thanksgiving to Christmas, then left to visit family and we haven't had time to visit each other. So we finally got together to catch up. Going out with them is like a breath of fresh air- it's rejeuvenating, relaxing, rejoicing. With the girls, we can all be ourselves. We can finally be off guard. What we say, what we see, who we are is acceptable- at least among ourselves. It's difficult to insult each other because we are so raw and forgiving of each others faults. It's even harder for us to shock each other. We call our dinners out 'therapy'. Just the three of us. No significant others, no new friends, no groups, no distractions, just us. We all bring something to the table and hear each other out. Lay it out and listen to each others advice. We waive our faults in the air, pointing our fingers and laughing as a group. We bring out each others skeletons for a little dance and a laugh. In that way, we wash away their sting. Afterwards, I'm tired from laughing and forgiven of my sins.

Tuesday

It's Tuesday the 2nd, I'm up at dawn (thanks to my Zoe alarm) and back to work. A beautiful sunrise makes getting up that early a little nicer. On Tuesdays, Zoe and I drive over the bridge into the City. Zoe spends the day with Michelle, and I go to the office. It takes a while to get everyone out the door, but we all like our routine. Zoe loves going to the City.

New Year's Day

Sometimes it's nice to get a "do-over".
New Years is like one big scheduled do-over. Everone gets to start fresh.
Like hitting the button under your odometer, we all jump back to zero.
On New years day, we're all untainted, unpoluted (ha!), we haven't missed any goals or disappointed anyone.
The world is our oyster and the horizon is as clear as a bell.
New years resolutions? No thanks. I don't need a reason to be bummed out and drink myself into a forgetful stupor next New Years eve.
I like to go out and just enjoy New Years Day for what it has to offer. And this year, thanks to global warming, it was offering beautiful sunny day.
This here blog is sort of a fresh start, a kick in the pants, place to vent, a place to post and a place to encourage and feed myself. It's an excersize. If you'd like to check in from time to time, well you've been invited to do so. I will try to stay up to date and if I lag you're welcome to call me on it.
On New years day, our little family drove down to the Cruz for some fresh sea air and a walk in the woods. We took Zoe to see the critters at Wilder Ranch.

Christmas in LA

Nico is from Canada. He likes to say "where comedy was invented".
Being from Canada, Nico has an idea of how things should be because "Canada is more advanced". While universal healthcare and a free University education are great things, I put the breaks on the idea of moving there for one huge reason: you have to plug in your car during the winter. It's not 'put on those mittens!' cold, it's 'plug in your car at night so it doesn't freeze solid' cold. Nico has been trying to drag me up North for a winter visit, but I try to tell him that it's better in the summer. So we spend July swimming in the lakes of Quebec, and we spend Christmas in LA, where I grew up.
In Canada, you can expect a white christmas. Families celebrate the season by skating on the canals drinking hot cider and eating 'beaver tails' (Canada's answer to the Churro, or fried dough with sugar). There are snow men, snow angels, snowy trees, real icicles and broken water pipes. It's minus 10 (celsius, of course) but that doesn't include the wind chill factor!
But in Los Angeles... Christmas day is (almost) always 72 degrees- and sunny.
How many Christmas afternoons have I spent with my toes in the sand, sliding down a sand burm or even kayaking on the canal? Riding a shiny new bike along leafy sidewalks, the winter sun warming my back.
Driving down through the suburbs of Long Beach, Nico chats with his mom in Ottawa. "It just doesn't feel like Christmas" he laments to her. In the suburbs of Long Beach, most folks decorate their houses with lights strung along the eaves, imitating icicles. There are inflatable snow men, flocked trees and rooftops, mechanical wire reindeer that bend down to eat green lawn and look up to watch cars go by. Cut paper snowflakes taped to the windows with care. Like many things in LA, it just feels "artificial". He says that Christmas is supposed to be snowy, cold and white. But I counter- why? Because North America sees it that way? What about Chrismas in Australia? Do their Christmas cards show Santa at the Bar-B-Que drinking lemonade? Are there beach scenes with red and white bikinis? Do kids unwrap boogie boards and eat popsicles? In Australia, do they put inflatable snow men in the yard to fall in line with what suburban North America expects Christmas to look like? I doubt it. LA- embrace who you really are! Wear your sunshine with pride! Make sand castles, sand angels, decorate your palm trees with lights, hang stockings on your air conditioners and drink lemonade on the beach.

At LACMA

Zoe's third trip to a museum includes a flashing neon installation.
Zoe likes neon.
Even better than bright Mexican paintings from the Marin exhibit at the De Young.
Much better than the small black and white photos at the Modotti show at MOMA.
She was so bored, she shrieked the whole time. her ear popping squeals bouncing off the stark white walls, making my cheeks blush as I tried to quiet her while shooting smiles to other museum goers as if to beg their pardon on her behalf.
Yes, black and white tones just don't have the flair that flashing pink, green and red neon does.