THE ROAD GOES EVER ON AND ON

The Road goes ever on and on ...

                  -- J.R.R. Tolkien

My daughter, who seems to have sprung out of childhood overnight,
in front of the Barnes Foundation, Philadelphia

As 2016 rolls around, I can't help but see Bilbo Baggins' eager feet on that Road stretching as far ahead as it does behind.

Wishing you all an extraordinary trek through 2016!

LIQUID MEMORY

Are your happy thoughts awash in water as mine seem to be?

Family, work, and the Arts seem to ebb and flow in my life, each surging in turn.  But once in a while, they come together in a joyful splash.

Just this weekend, visiting nieces from Denver drew us to the coast, underscoring natural differences between the Rockies and the Bay Area.  I love the mountains -- but what about the afternoon sun on the waves?  Sparkling water makes children of us all!

Happiness on the beach
Natural Bridges, Santa Cruz
From this weekend

Last weekend, we caught the last day of the exhibit, "Impressionists on the Water," at the Legion of Honor.  Just as my memories are flecked with dappled sunlight on water, so were the Impressionists' scenes from the banks of the Seine.  Sails pierced the nautical blues of San Francisco Bay  -- right outside the Museum -- and Monterey Bay, as if in accidental salute.  (The gods of Serendipity must be enjoying this since I am also immersed in an art history project stressing the Impressionists.)

Sailboats out on Monterey Bay this weekend
in synch with the Impressionist sailing scenes

The seafaring displays swept me back to my summer holidays, when my sister, cousins and I navigated coral reefs and turquoise seas.

Our rustic outrigger heading out

for snorkeling adventures

Languid mornings over mangoes and coffee frequently gave way to the excitement of planning the day's excursions.

Breakfast seascape

Snorkeling or scuba diving?  1, 2 or 3 coral reefs?  I want to see spectacular marine life!  I want to be Jacques Cousteau!

We hopped on to smaller, yellow canoes -- mid-sea! -- from our larger outrigger
in order to navigate shallow coral reefs

In fact, we spent so much time submerged, swaying in the hammock appeared way too airborne.

The unused hammock on the shore

So many activities, so many islands, so much water.  But wait a moment.  Nostalgia and water now swirl in an eddy of memories ...

Puddles of childhood in tropical rain ... afternoon torrents paired with naps ... typhoons teamed with a book in a nook ...

Afternoon rain in my childhood home,
from the dining room window

Even music and movement are claimed by the vortex.   Flickering lights in raindrop tempo ... rooftop staccato plip-plop-plop... fluid ballet steps swell to the deluge ...  tap-tap dancing to thunder claps ...

Oh my.  J.K. Rowling was on to something when she conceived her Pensieve.  Wizards and we can be gripped by an uncontrollable flow of thoughts and memories.

Some might prefer drifting with Proust's remembrances rather than Potter's.  Either way, when the current takes us, we are lost in time, shipwrecked in recollections.

Late afternoon mooring
after a day spent in the water

Eventually, the whorls and ripples diminish.  We moor our memories and seek stable shores.  And once more, we are left to reflect, safely, on dancing drops of sunlight.

What are your radiant reflections attached to?

100 CANDLES

Greetings for the New Year, dear eFriends!

Thank you so much for all your notes and thoughts.  My online absence hasn't been due to some cosmic chasm.  Blame my cephalopod way of life (and sorry for referencing myself -- smacks of geriatric reminiscing) with multiple projects reaching in all directions. There must be some sensible name for this chronic condition?

Happy New Year!
Also celebrating my Grandmère's 100th birthday from afar.
I missed the grand family reunion in Asia
so we sent a video greeting instead.

The holidays were an opportunity to reconnect with family and old friends from around the world.  Too much to tell you.  Recent life has resembled a merry innkeeper's.  We've been welcoming a stream of out-of-town guests at home with just enough time for fresh linens in between.  Our evenings have been marked by live music, good spirits (libation and disposition, both), and interesting discourse!  It's been a marvelous month-and-a-half.

Which brings me to an homage I wanted to make.  My dearest grandmother, Grandmère to us, just turned 100 this week.  Her legendary wit is undimmed though her own memory might be.  Call her the upbeat version of Downton Abbey's Dowager Countess -- barbs not meant to cut but rather to induce laughter!  Her biggest accessory is a broad smile (and perhaps, huge dark glasses).

I find the sweater's asymmetric hemline -
short in front, long in the back -
an interesting counterpoint
to the horizontal stripes

Our Grandmère was the pillar behind our Granddaddy, now gone but a towering public figure for us, whose life was driven by principles of integrity and civic duty.  (Meritocracy and anti-Nepotism were indelibly imprinted in us through them ...  Pardon me but big words tend to surface whenever we think of our grandparents.)  We are so proud that my grandmother and her sisters earned their Bachelors of Science back in the '30s, at a time and place when few women were encouraged to do so.  Their role model?  Florence Nightingale (whom many may not know was a gifted mathematician)!  Emulating the Lady with the Lamp, they believed intellectual gifts were meant to be bundled with public service - all tied up with ribbons of gaiety and song for the loveliest of packages.  

My grandparents also believed in a simple life beyond reproach.  I still recall their insistence on receiving gifts only from family and close friends lest anything be considered a bribe, or worse, turn out to be a bomb!  (Trojan horses come in all shapes and sizes.)  Coming from a country cleft by poverty and antiquated rules of Class, they wanted no part in a lavish lifestyle which could be misinterpreted.

So here I am, beginning 2013 in my comfortable, "everyday" clothes of sweater dresses and jeans, accessorized only with large sunglasses and a smile - just like my dear Grandmère.

Wishing you all a wonderful start to the year!

MIDNIGHT IN PARIS ... OR CALIFORNIA

Last week at the ballet studio, several people announced they were November-born, including two of the dancers below.  Lovers of life that we all are, we immediately declared a party at our house.

My friends in the rehearsal studio, two years ago.
They created stiff circles of tulle on the floor here.

Picasso or Cole Porter may not have been present, but it dawned on me that our impromptu soirée wasn't too different from a Paris-in-the-'20s scene.  We had dancers, artists, an actor, a musician, arm-chair philosophers (sometimes, even the real thing), and a scientist!  Just missing were the writers and poets.

Our Artistic Director (seated),
formerly from American Ballet Theater,
during our rehearsals

First off, our ballet Artistic Director was celebrating his birthday.  He had danced with world-renowned American Ballet Theater in New York prior to moving out West.  His pregnant wife was surprised his photos were in some of my old, ABT performance books.  (I used to attend ABT's season at the Metropolitan Opera House and pick up the books at the performances.  This was before I knew him personally - and before his wife ever met him.)  We reminisced about his old ABT friends - dancers I admired, even worshipped, and on my very lucky days, shared barres with in NYC. 

My dear friend, Virginia, whom I wrote about in Life is Beautiful, provided all the good bubbly as we celebrated her 86th birthday too.  Months ago, she had been generous enough to offer what gallery paintings we liked for our walls, and to rotate them until we'd found one we couldn't say good-bye to.  (Her art gallery overflows as much as her champagne collection.)  I was ecstatic to serve as her extended exhibit space.  So, we spent a fair amount of time clinking flutes in birthday toasts while engaging in art appreciation.  Now that's a civilized way to spend an evening.

Loaned to us from Virginia's art gallery.
I like discovering textures in it daily.
But is the marred surface
the result of her housekeeper's
vigorous cleaning?!

Another friend, a ceramic artist, was also a celebrant. Her works happen to be around our house too - from wabi sabi vases to our daily serving dishes.  Wabi sabi is a wonderful, Japanese aesthetic - defined by imperfection, transience, and natural beauty.  Does that concept speak to you?  It does to me, especially contrasted against geometric perfection.  We celebrated this theme by putting my friend's irregularly-shaped bowls and plates out for our little party.  (You can check out her whimsical creations here in Yukari Art)

An example of my friend's
wabi sabi vase
on the floor of our foyer

Let's see. We mentioned dancers and artists.  Now, the actress.  She had recently played a small part in a film scene with Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson - yes, the protagonist at the core of "Midnight in Paris"!  She was still giddy from the experience.  Of course we pressed her, and she confirmed that Wilson is as cute and charming in life as he is on film.

Finally, the culmination of this evening out of Time was sitting by the piano while our musician friend played Gershwin and ragtime.  The live music punctuated our discussion on the origins of rag (which I never knew was a technical term - "ragging out time") and Jazz.  The genre couldn't have been more fitting that night. 

After all the champagne, music and art
Midnight in California

Sometimes, the best experiences are unplanned, fleeting, joyous celebrations of life.  Wabi sabi style.  I didn't even appreciate the evening until everyone had gone and I thought of writing this post.

Now, if I could only round up a poet or two for the next gathering ... 

MY FAVORITE THINGS ...

There it was.  A forlorn, brown, paper package sitting in the rain.  The postman had kindly sealed it in clear plastic before leaving it on the steps.  It couldn't be helped, but my mind's film reel was rolling off Fräulein Maria, clad in white on a stormy night, singing,

"Brown, paper packages tied up with strings,
These are a few of my favorite things."
                                     -- The Sound of Music

My older sister mailed me this Mask
after spending 2 weeks in Venice, Florence and Rome.
I was so thankful for the Postman's thoughtfulness
in protecting the package.

How can we possibly resist unexpected packages?  It's Magic in every mysterious box.  Can't blame Pandora for peeking into hers.

With this surprise, Halloween is now taking a Venetian slant as my costume ideas percolate ...  What do you plan to be for Halloween?

******

Late addition, to this post:

A delightful, little stop animation short for Halloween from film maker, Spike Jonze, and bag designer, Olympia Le Tan.  Enjoy!

AUTUMN BOUQUET

Forget my laments to bring back summer.  My attitude has turned along with the leaves.  I love Autumn!

Perhaps our nephew's wedding in Colorado had something to do with it.  Denver's picturesque foothills were painted over in russets, greens, and golds.  The bridal party's yellow ochres blended right in.  I wish I could post my shots from the wedding but I can't.  I will, however, share the radiant bride's brooch bouquet below.  Have you ever seen anything like it?

The Bride's Brooch Bouquet
I've never seen anything like it!

The estate where the wedding was held kept its historic charm.  Here's a glimpse of the mansion, The Manor House.  It was built in 1914 for a self-made millionaire, John Shaffer, whose modest beginnings were as a boot black.  His 28,000 acre cattle ranch used to surround this Manor House. Shaffer was also the editor-publisher of the Chicago Tribune and brought the arts to both Chicago and Denver.  This Manor House proudly entertained the likes of Presidents Theodore Roosevelt and William Howard Taft -- and now us!

The Manor House, Colorado
snapped from the car as we drove up the hill

But back to the wedding.  Our nephew, the jazz trumpeter, serenaded his Bride up the aisle with his originally-composed fanfare.  (I have a wonderful photo of him and his trumpet in the sunset.)  His band friends, mostly brass, encircled the guests on the hilltop.  So all those golden notes filled the brisk air, coating it in autumn sunshine.  To top it all, the vows were poems written or sung by the couple.  I just love weddings which truly reflect the couple's nature.

Our nephew and niece are decidedly outdoorsy, opting to give up the urban diversions of New York City, where they both attended graduate school, to move back to Colorado.  Fittingly, the pre-wedding Rehearsal Dinner was held at another scenic location, the Denver Botanic Gardens.  My camera lens fogged up on that cold, rainy evening.  But I did catch some amusing sights, like this fork in the road ...

Metaphor for life's choices?

... or this benign looking "Corn Maze" entrance -- which unexpectedly sprawls into an eight-acre corn field.  I lost my husband in it after he took some little kids in to the "maze".  They didn't surface for hours!  Luckily, there was cherry pie to reward the muddy, little troupers afterwards.  But perhaps, the kids thought it was one big adventure, and it was really just my husband who was concerned amidst the endless corn stalks.

Corn Maze needs to include "Bermuda Triangle" warning!

I took over 400 photos of family during this lovely excursion into Autumn.  I regret I can only share a handful, and not the most beautiful ones either.  This was my last look from the car as we drove to the airport, back to lush, green California.

Leaving my brother in-law's neighborhood
right by a horse ranch

Or so I thought.  Just today, I was out on a morning run in the hills. Amber leaves lined the dirt trail at my feet.  Autumn must have followed us home.

What is it like where you are?

MASTER OF NONE

I wore this to a meeting
and the pants sure got some attention!

Aprés-summer is rolling in with the daily fog.  But the other day, the sun was glorious, and I was able to pull the ouch-give-me-my-sunglasses pants out.  The trousers certainly arrived at the meeting way before the rest of me did.  (Note: Silicon Valley style is rather relaxed.)

This is a quick and penitent hello.  I have truly been missing all your blogs and creative inspiration.  You know what it is to have your hands in way too many pots?  Were I an octopus, I'd still be needing extra tentacles.  (My husband wonders whether my cephalopod approach to life is a character asset or flaw!)  A good friend and I were discussing how one life is just not enough for everything we want to do.  Reincarnation actually sounds appealing.

Which do you think is better: 1) Jack-of-all-trades, master of none, or 2) expert on a most esoteric subject?

FEELIN' GROOVY

Desperately clinging to summer

Still dreaming of summer break!

if only by way of wild trousers.

This is my nth pair of loud pants for this week.  Someone asked, "Feelin' groovy?"  Mmmm, yeah!

How are you feeling?


For the ultimate feel-good song, check out Simon & Garfunkel's "Feelin' Groovy" below.  They were already retro when I got to know their exquisite harmonies, passed down from friends' older siblings.

DANCERS IN THE WINGS

Show's over, and I managed to pull myself together enough to have a great time by the grande finale.  My husband knows I am a basket case for weeks until it's all over!  I think I've shared before how much I prefer the discipline of classes, rehearsals, and the backstage camaraderie more than the nervous tension of going onstage.  Edgar Degas must have had a sense of this since he opted to depict these scenes rather than the polished production.

Solo Variations
The girl in the red tutu was getting ready for
her Kitri variation, from "Don Quixote"
as the Technical Crew adjusted the lighting

During our Technical Rehearsal, which is when the technical crew works on lights, backdrops and other staging issues, I managed to sneak my camera in.  I could only shoot the younger dancers since I was too busy dancing, snacking, or changing costumes later on. (Too much snacking too as it took 3 dancers to hook me into my corset-tutu!)  But I hope this gives you a sense for what it's like behind the curtains.  It really is not much different from Degas' days.

Swan Lake Cygnets
These young swans kept referring to me
as Mama Swan!

Ballerina hopefuls.
The youngest dancers were mesmerized
watching the older girls from the wings.
We were sad to shoo them away but we were
tripping over them on our quick entrances & exits!

Solo Variation
The girl in the blue tutu was
dancing the Bluebird Variation from "Sleeping Beauty"
while a young dancer watched from the wings

I was really proud of the girls, particularly the older teenagers in their solo variations.  Not too long ago, I was teaching them how to prepare their first pointe shoes and giving them their first pointe classes!  (I only teach occasionally, for example, these special pointe classes.)  Now, here they are, earning their tutus and dancing classical repertoire.

I was in several pieces requiring quick costume changes, but my white swan tutu was for Michel Fokine's "Dying Swan," a poignant adagio he choreographed for Anna Pavlova in 1905. I didn't know it was based on Alfred, Lord Tennyson's poem of the same name.  It is set to Camille Saint-Saëns' soulful cello piece. (The solemnity was slightly ruined by a few of my feathers fluttering off the tutu -- I felt like a goose!)  I did not dance Odile, the Black Swan, as some of you were asking.  That is about 32 fouetté turns too many for me!


Svetlana Zakharova in "Dying Swan."  Cello solo played by Yo-Yo Ma.


In case you are not familiar with "Dying Swan," there are very many versions on YouTube.  This is a recent clip I had not seen before, featuring Svetlana Zakharova, who has impossibly long limbs.  It is an artistically demanding role rather than a technical, bravura one.  For me, it is ballet at it's most sublime.  I am always honored to be cast by our Director in this solo, and am touched when, once in a while, an audience member comes up afterwards to tell me they were moved to tears.

JEAN PAUL GAULTIER'S CORSETED WORLD

I've been looking forward to a scheduled tour of Jean Paul Gaultier's retrospective at the De Young Museum, The Fashion World of Jean Paul Gaultier: From the Sidewalk to the Catwalk.  That day has finally rolled around, and I'll be visiting it tomorrow with a group of women involved in the Arts.  I'm even considering wearing a corset-style dress to it -- if I wake up audacious enough in the morning.

Inspired by Jean Paul Gaultier's corset fashion
To wear or not to wear to the exhibit?
Dress: miha studio

Naturally, any discussion of Jean Paul Gaultier is accompanied by images of bustiers and corsetry, bound onto iconic faces in pop music and film.  In his own way, Gaultier emancipated women from corsetry's connotations of helplessness and, instead, infused them with power.  We are definitely not the weaker sex in Gaultier's bustiers ...

Madonna's Blond Ambition Tour, 1990
"Cone bra" by Jean Paul Gaultier
Photo source: Google Images

... not when ladies like Madonna show us how to don them.

Actually, now that I examine the design below, another strong female is brought to mind: the Valkyrie, Brünnhilde.  I am mentally finishing off this outfit with a horned Viking helmet, accompanied by charging Wagnerian strains.

Madonna's "Cone Bra"
by Jean Paul Gaultier
at the Exhibit
Photo: Emil Larsson

I read somewhere that Gaultier's "cone bra" was inspired by antique breast plates worn by Italian soldiers.  It is no surprise then that his corsets announce Offense rather than Defense, with such armed origins.  

Gaultier's fascination with the corset began early on in his life, upon discovering his grandmother's.  He then created a paper version, summarily pinning it onto his teddy bear.  This prophetic teddy bear is apparently on display too.

ON THE SEVENTH DAY

... and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made.

                                             -- Genesis 2:2, King James Bible

Seven days -- what a record in efficiency.  My productivity pales by comparison.  Of course, I am nowhere near Almighty nor Omnipotent.  (Handel's Messiah is playing in my head with all those resounding adjectives and synonyms for God.  Ah, it must be Lent.  Scroll down to the end if you celebrate Easter.)

There are still boxes to sift through and rooms to put in order.  But I am resting, just for the moment, and taking in the view.  This project has taken a whole year.  Technically, more work still needs to be done, a bit inside and outside, but at least we can now live in our (mostly) renovated home.

Late afternoon vista from our Living Room
The views extend all the way to
San Francisco and Berkeley on a clear day.
At night, we see the twinkling lights of Silicon Valley.

For several weeks, I could only savor the exterior landscape.  Boxes dominated the interior landscape -- their own cardboard city, raining dust along with styrofoam and packing tissues.  We finally managed to tackle the initial towers over the weekend, dismantling the columns like Lego sets after play.  Best of all, we cleared up enough space to hang favorite paintings we hadn't seen properly in years.  In the nick of time too.  We expect guests to stay, one right after the other, from this weekend on.

Frequent visitors, dining on our front garden,
seen from our kitchen nook

It has been an all-consuming but rewarding undertaking.  Thank you for your patience over the past months!

Have you renovated or done construction before? 

  

This foyer area was
laden with boxes until this evening!
We designed wall niches
to display our special pieces
throughout the house

*****

For those of you who celebrate the Lenten Season and Easter, here's a favorite, humorous rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus, from Handel's "Messiah".

STILL-NESS

"A great free joy surges through me when I work ... with tense slashes and a few thrusts, the beautiful white fields receive their color and the work is finished in a few minutes." 

                                                            -- Clyfford Still, Abstract Expressionist artist

Clyfford Still Museum
Colors, including this visitor's electric blue,
startled me out of my winter doldrums!

Clyfford Still Museum
You can sense the monumental scale of the art.
I love the sliver of red-orange, like sunset on the horizon,
struggling not to sink into the twilight

I'm finally back from the snow-laden slopes of Colorado.  A few hours before our flight home, we decided to swing by the new Clyfford Still Museum in Denver, housing roughly 95% of this reclusive artist's works.  Still was a force in the Abstract Expressionist Movement though he broke away from the art world at the height of his creativity.

Clyfford Still Museum
Color and texture via palette knife and trowel

Clyfford Still Museum
Colors and forms on white canvas

The Still Estate bequeathed nearly his entire oeuvre to Denver.  The lucky city had agreed to carry out the artist's stipulation to only show his works in its (near) entirety.  No competition from fellow abstract expressionists -- Mark Rothko, Jackson Pollock, etc. -- to distract from his work!  Now I understand why the San Francisco MoMA had an entire gallery of Clyfford Still paintings.  He refused to share walls with his former friends!  

Clyfford Still Museum
The architecture was specifically designed to house Still's works

Clyfford Still Museum
Natural light through holes in the ceiling

We discovered more interesting objects in the basement, like his personal effects.  Still may have lived on a farm but his tastes in literature and music were quite sophisticated.

Clyfford Still Museum
Still's personal effects -- including LPs of opera and classical music,
his book collection and typewriter -- were in the basement

Clyfford Still Museum
I love the hint of cyan marching off the frame

It was marvelous to be enveloped by some of the most original art of the 20th century.  As Still himself said,  "It's intolerable to be stopped by a frame's edge."  Fortunately, we were engulfed by his colors!  

Interestingly, these eye-opening hues were the harbinger of springtime back in California.  Apple, plum and cherry blossoms greeted us upon our return.  Much like his splashes of color against a snowy canvas.

I hope you have all been well and I will catch up with you soon!

THE BOAT OF HEAVEN: HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I was glad to have had my camera with me at twilight down town yesterday.  Twilight -- not the kind that has ladies gasping for a love bite, but that fleeting moment when violet meets blue, when only silhouettes are permitted in the waning light.  Twilight, when we glimpse the boat of heaven sailing through the deep indigo sky.  It was this precise moment when I parked the car and took pictures overhead.  The timing seemed apt, somehow, reflecting the year drawing to a close.

The Boat of Heaven at twilight

amidst a winter latticework of leaves and branches

The ancient civilization of Sumer, prior to the rise of Mesopotamia, referred to the moon as the "Boat of Heaven".  (Click here for some of the translation of these oldest of cuneiform poetry.)  Without this celestial vessel, the Goddess Inanna would not have been able to transport the gifts of culture and civilization to the world.  Where would art, music, poetry, works of masons and metal workers, justice and compassion, wisdom, truth ... and so on ... be without the crescent moon?

So, as we say good-bye to 2011 and greet 2012, I thought to celebrate the Boat of Heaven and her gifts to Civilization as we know it.

Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" (1st Movement here) through the fingers of Wilhelm Kempff, an auditory gift.



Georges Méliès' innovatively surreal film from 1902: "Le Voyage dans la Lune", inspired by Jules Verne and H.G. Wells.  Many of you might be familiar with the image of the man in the moon with a spaceship lodged in his eye!

I find the pioneers of photography and the birth of cinema fascinating.  It was with wondrous surprise that I discovered Martin Scorcese's latest film, "Hugo," to be a visual love poem -- dedicated to the magic of cinema, literature and invention.  Georges Méliès features greatly in it.  "Hugo" is shot masterfully, as one would expect from an ode to cinema.  I also assume Scorcese's use of 3D was a salute to the spirit of innovation in film which began with the Lumière Brothers and carried to greater heights by Méliès.




Wishing you all a wonderful 2012!  I am still officially on vacation for another week, but hope to visit your blogs soon.  Enjoy New Year's Eve festivities, and follow the words of Edward Lear:

They danced by the light of the moon
       The moon
       The moon
They danced by the light of the moon.
                     -- from Edward Lear's "The Owl and the Pussycat"

WALTZ OF THE SNOWFLAKES

Christmas season ... otherwise known as "Nutcracker" season for ballet lovers.  It's a rite of passage for many young ballerinas in ballet schools.  I've heard some say it's the only ballet they've ever seen -- part of their family Christmas tradition, much like watching "It's A Wonderful Life" while sipping hot cocoa.

I have done a few Nutcrackers. This year though, I've been otherwise occupied and had to drop my participation.  Nutcracker season entails rehearsals beginning in September, not including the requisite ballet classes during the week.  We dancers used to joke -- though it was no joke -- that we saw each other in rehearsals more than we did our husbands.  Let's put it this way.  Mine hated Nutcracker season.

Me, in Swan costume, for our studio photo 3 years ago
It was as close as I could get to the Snowflake costume!

Original Photo: Jun Yang Photography

Edited Photo: The Foolish Aesthete

But back to the magic of E.T. A. Hoffman and Tchaikovsky.  One of my favorite scenes is the "Waltz of the Snowflakes".  Tchaikovsky's tinkling celestas (I think), harps, triangles and angelic chorus simply transport Clara and the audience to a world of fairies and snow.  For dancers, this is perhaps the most exhausting dance -- about eight minutes of fluttering runs and leaps.  I find ballet jumps far more intense than aerobic class jumping!

An old Baryhshnikov version of "The Nutcracker" Snowflake scene, with Gelsey Kirkland as Clara

I used to attend class at Steps on Broadway in NYC.  Baryshnikov, even in his 50s, would sometimes be in the same class (he was friends with the Russian ballet teacher).  He would have us all enthralled, eyes wide with disbelief that we were dancing on the same floor as this Legend.  I practically tripped over his ballet gear on the floor when he took the spot next to me at the barre! He he, Clutzy Ballerina here.


We are seeing another Holiday ballet show tomorrow.  Not The Nutcracker, but one full of snowflakes and magic as well, put on by a friend and her ballet school.  I'm sure I'll have more Nutcracker-related posts over the next few weeks.  Some may include collaborative photography with another Blogger friend.  Stay tuned, and really, enjoy the Magic of the Season!

What are your Christmas traditions?

TEA WITH MARMALADE

This past half year of blogging, I have had the greatest privilege of meeting talented, creative people from all over the world.  Many have been daily inspirations.  More than that, they are virtual friends.

As promised in my last post, I am sharing one of these friend/inspirations.  You may all have met her already from her own edgily creative blog, MARMALADE.  If you haven't, I would love for you all to meet Victoria.  We meet up here for virtual tea where she has kindly let me interview her for all our benefit.

(all photos taken by Victoria, previously posted on her blog, and selected to display her artistic range)

TFA:  What is your artistic background?
Victoria: 


The problem with me is that I have always been a Jack-of-all-trades. I don't think this is a good thing but it is true. I have memories of me making clothes for my dolls, going to painting classes etc. at the age of 9 years old. I started studying Industrial design in Mexico but left to study Art in London.  Then, I did a few courses in fashion too. I've worked as a florist, fashion sales assistant, visual merchandiser, opened my own shop and my last job was in an I.T. company. I have always known I wanted to do something creative, mainly, because deep in my heart, I know I'm rubbish at anything else. I have tried other trades but I believe you can't ever be the best at something that you are not passionate enough about.

TFA:  What is your favorite medium?  Why?

Victoria: 

This is my old, same battle.  So many times, I've wanted to focus on one thing, but I found it almost impossible. I truly love everything that involves creativity.  Some days, I feel like taking photos.  Other days, I feel like painting or designing something. I get bored of just doing one thing. I like to have different mediums of expression.

TFA:  Who or what are your favorite sources of inspiration?

Victoria: 

Frida Kahlo, Ellen Rogers, Deborah Turbeville, Francesca Woodman, Allison Scarpulla, Basquiat, Francis Bacon, David Bowie, Coco Chanel, Simone de Beauvoir, Edgar Allan Poe, Paul Auster, Albert Camus, Tim Burton, Katharine Hepburn, Iamamiwhoami, Just to mention a few.

TFA:  Why did you begin your blog?

Victoria: 

Out of desperation because I was not doing anything creative and I was depressed. I thought it could be a start to build myself again.

TFA:  Do you have hobbies, even non-artistic ones?

Victoria: 

Cooking.  For me cooking is another way of been creative.  I love trying new food, new spices, herbs. I also love listening music.  I do it all day. It helps my ideas to flow. I also love reading.

TFA:  Thank you, Victoria, for sharing yourself and your creativity with us.  I am so glad you began Marmalade!

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Perhaps you'll understand now why I admire Victoria's edgy aesthetic. It seems to reach for every point on the artistic sphere -- like a robust wheel's spokes radiating in diverse creative directions.  It would be no surprise to see additional spokes in the future either.   (Prior to this interview, I didn't even know she made sculptures!)  What a terrific list of inspirations as well -- all fascinating, talented people.

I hope to share more wonderful Bloggers here on this space next year.  Whom do you admire on the Blog-o-sphere?