The last few days in this place that I love so much has been ablaze. Like a scene right out of a superhero summer blockbuster the flames are making their way down the hills consuming everything in their path. And in Tinseltown too, the irony is not lost on any of us. As end looms over us we go about shopping for our groceries, going out to dinner with friends, celebrating birthdays and spending a day at the beach. We are no longer impressed or afraid. We, the inhabitants of this town live everyday above the earth’s rumblings waiting for ‘the big one.’ So nothing will scare us. It may seem like we are crazy or numb, but we understand that there is only so much that is within our control. It is not the first time we have been devastated and it won’t be the last. Life is meant to be savored.
Taste is a very personal thing. We can have endless debates on what is good or bad taste. There are so many variables involved. The age of the person, the venue, the fit of garment as well as cultural and religious beliefs. These rules are created by those who have the platform and the influence. To be fair they are just opinions, yet they compel the masses to spend ridiculous amounts on fads. I think fashion should express your personality, mood and interests. It is unfortunate that often we are afraid to do so because others may frown on our choices. Individual style should be what we aspire to. It is personal, expressive and genuine.
We are only seven days into the season and I have already had my first sugar overload. To be fair I am a sugarholic. Yes, addicted to sugar. I have a sweet tooth and a mouthful of metal to mark the casualties in the ongoing fight against it. I once asked my dentist while he was busy poking around to remove my sweet tooth. He didn’t think that was funny. A lecture on the ills of sugar and the importance of flossing daily immediately followed. Once again as I walk through the valley lined with candy canes, peppermint bark and milk chocolate snowmen, I resolve to do better this year. But just in case I will set up my next appointment.
I run among a feisty bunch. The passionate, strong minded, take no nonsense women that surround me. Some family and some friends. Coming from a place that both culturally and religiously exalts the virtues of remaining silent and meek when under duress. Allowing atrocities to go unmentioned. Abuses to go unchallenged. Perpetrators to go unpunished. We are known as the wild ones. The ones that challenge the status quo. The ones who are able to distinguish between traditions and bondage. We are enlightened. They call us feisty as if to insult us. But it only inspires to keep pushing forward. Every defeat fuels us and every victory emboldens us.
Every year I spend the holidays with family in the Midwest. It is always a shock to the body when you go from 80 degrees to 30 degrees in a span of five hours. As much as I appreciate the sun all year round in my new home, cold weather and Christmas really resonate with me. When it snows it is so quiet outside you can hear a pin drop. Outside everything is covered in white and lights sparkle from trees and rooftops while we all huddle inside reminiscing about the year that is coming to an end. It is a time filled with gratitude and excitement of a new beginning. It is one of my favorite times of the year.
I wasn’t even looking when I got my first real full time job. My cousin’s wife asked me to come in because she would get $100 for each applicant she referred. I did not have classes that day and frankly I was tired of getting spat up on at the day care center where I worked part time. The free lunch she threw in sealed the deal. Our office was located in area surrounded by thirty or more eating places where my co-workers and I spent every lunch hour. I had a work uniform that consisted of these very fashionable black knit pants (96% spandex). They fantastic. So much so that they expanded with me, doing such a wonderful job that I did not even notice. Then one day, six months later they reached their limit, all 96% of it. I quickly rushed over to the mall to find a replacement and apparently even at the store I had reached the limit in the size they carried. Horror! I was then kindly referred to the store next door where I was told I might find more options. That instantly put an end to my lunch time indulgences.
As an artist I am very well versed in the importance of perspective. The rule is that the things that are further away are smaller than the things that are closer to you. I remember when I first started painting I really wanted to get it perfectly right. So much so that I would keep sketching and erasing until I was satisfied with it but by then the excitement of getting my subject on the paper had long dissipated. This a process I would repeat again and again. It truly became a hindrance in my production. It took a very long time before I was comfortable with not getting it perfectly right. Also I found that sometimes my work became a lot more interesting when I ignored this rule.
“Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist.” Pablo Picasso
I would say that during my upbringing I was exposed to new and what some would consider foreign experiences. My father was very well traveled and my mother worked in an organization whose workers were mostly expatriates. Also living in the an area of the city where embassies favored meant I spent a lot of time with children from almost every corner of the world. We had our very own United Nations compound. Sometimes we would eat in each others kitchens much to the chagrin of my mother who did not appreciate her kids eating in other homes uninvited. This is where I had my very first encounter with mushrooms. The spongy texture and taste was very strange to me. I did not like them much and really only started eating them as an adult. Like many things they are an acquired taste.
About a month ago a friend and great supporter of my creative endeavors sent me a image of body paint art asking if I had considered it. I thought about it for a second than immediately dismissed it. Approximately a month after that I was at a party where I overhead a friend sharing with another friend who is a photographer, about how she was dreamed of doing a body paint photo shoot and was looking for an artist. My ears perked up and I went over to offer my services. She explained how wanted her body covered with west African symbols known as Adinkra for they held deep spiritual meaning for her. This last Sunday with as little effort as possible everything fell together seamlessly as three women gathered in our makeshift hotel studio to fulfill this dream. It was truly a spiritual experience. I believe that had it not been for my friend I would have missed this opportunity. So yesterday I sent a quick note to thank him for attracting this wonderful thing into my life.
“Литературное кафе” — блог Алексея Марковича, где автор выкладывает фото и видео со своих творческих встреч, а также спектакли, поставленные по его произведениям. MarkovichUniverse СОБАКА gmail ТОЧКА com