Stirring the Compost

underGROUND: Artifacts of the Moment by Beverly Naidus

2009-09-02T13:54:00.000-07:00

Here are some images from my recent exhibition.
"Between Deliciousness and Impending Doom," 2009, mixed media

"A Prayer for Islands Underwater," 2009, mixed media

"Heavy Metal Filtration System," 2009, mixed media

Ending the Hiatus

2009-09-02T09:21:00.000-07:00

So, it's time to write again. After my book, Arts for Change, was completed www.artsforchange.org last January, I clearly needed to give the writing part of my brain a rest. Of course, I still wrote dozens of emails almost everyday, but publishing something for the public to read was not on my agenda. Now that my blog has been linked to Tikkun's blog, I feel a responsibility to be present. So here I am.

It's been a good ride during these past 8 months. The book came out in late Feb and I did readings and signings at various places (LA, Tacoma, NYC, western MA, Olympia, Port Townsend, Oakland and Berkeley). I took the months of July and August "off" partly so I could produce a new body of work, "underGROUND: Artifacts of the Moment"and it opened at my collective's gallery, VALISE on August 7th. http://www.valisegallery.org/Valise/Aug09show.html I "danced" through the creation of those pieces in the space of 28 days. It was quite the whirlwind. I will post some images of the mixed media work and an artist's statement sometime today.

Otherwise, it's time to start new adventures, and wrap my head around some difficult issues (like the mercenary, right-wing armies I heard Jeremy Scahill discuss yesterday on the radio http://odeo.com/episodes/25061031-Blackwater-The-World-s-Most-Deadly-Mercenary-Army-An-Interview-w-Jeremy-Scahill. I'm striving to keep a balance between daily deliciousness and impending doom, as my recent body of work will expose. More soon.

Too hot to handle

2009-01-28T14:53:00.000-08:00

Here's a new piece. Originally solicited by a magazine devoted to contemporary Jewish thought and culture to create a work on Feminism and Jewish Identity, I went through my old digital pieces on Jewish cultural identity, and decided to rework an old piece. The old one was about being mistaken for a Palestinian spy at the Algiers airport. I eliminated the text, reworked the image to include an old ad and then added some new imagery in Painter and Photoshop. And the text is new as well. When I sent it in to the magazine editor, I never heard back. I wrote to her three times, and zilch was my response.

So, I am sharing it with you. It is inspired by the crisis in Gaza.

Birthing of a Book

2009-01-18T08:47:00.001-08:00

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Contact: Karen Stewart
510 420-1361
karen@newvillage.net

Title: Arts for Change
Subtitle: Teaching Outside the Frame
Author: Beverly Naidus
ISBN: 978-0-9815593-0-8
Publisher: New Village Press
Distributor: Consortium
Pages: 256
Binding: Trade Paperback
Trim: 6.0 x 9.0 x 0.56
Illustration: 48 B/W Photographs
Release: February 20, 2009
Pub Date: April 2009
Price: $14.95

The book will be available for direct sales in advance of bookstores (late February) from New Village Press. http://www.newvillagepress.net/books/arts-change-beverly-naidus.php

For signed copies available directly from the author, please contact bnaidus@u.washington.edu

New Village Press to publish Arts for Change: Teaching Outside the Frame by Beverly Naidus

Arts for Change overturns conventional arts pedagogy with an activist's passion for creating art that matters

Oakland, CA (January 18, 2009) – New Village Press announces its forthcoming title, Arts for Change, by Beverly Naidus, a provocative, personal look at the motivations and challenges of teaching socially engaged arts. The author offers candid examination of her own university teaching career, weaves in broader social and historical perspectives, and opens readers' minds to other points of view, including those collected from contemporaries in her field.

Arts for Change intersperses scholarly concerns with intimate, image-rich metaphor in a free-spirited, non-academic prose. The author answers vital questions that students and educators have long been asking: How can polarized groups work together to solve social and environmental problems? How can art be used to raise consciousness?

Using her personal experiences in the classroom as a template, Naidus guides the reader through a progression of steps to help students observe the world around them and craft artistic responses to what they see. Arts for Change also features interviews with over 30 artist/educators with diverse opinions and strategies for successfully engaging students in what, to them, is most meaningful.

Illustrated with 48 visuals and photographs of student, faculty and community works, Arts for Change is both inspirational and instructional. It is sure to stimulate new thinking among arts faculty, arts students, and activists of all kinds, as well as anyone who has an inkling of the role the arts can play in responding to critical issues of the day.

Bevery Naidus’ warm and serious pedagogic memoir should ring bells with educators everywhere. I have long admired her commitment to an alternative path in teaching art and social justice without contradictions. Her personal and political odyssey, and the thumbnail portraits of her artist colleagues/mentors, offer an illuminating glimpse beyond the academic curtain.
– Lucy R. Lippard, art critic, activist, curator, author The Lure of the Local: Senses of Place in a Multicentered Society

###

Intended Audience
College-level educators and graduate students in arts education, arts and social change theory, best practices in community-based arts, and history of community arts courses. Faculty and students of critical arts theory and feminist art. Social activists.

About Beverly Naidus
Beverly Naidus, artist, activist, educator, and writer, has had her work exhibited internationally in venues including the Institute of Contemporary Art in London, the New Museum of Contemporary Art in New York City, the Brooklyn Museum, and the Armand Hammer Museum at UCLA. She is the author of two artist’s books: One Size Does Not Fit All and What Kinda Name is That, and has authored several essays on activist art pedagogy. She is currently co-creating a program at University of Washington, Tacoma on Arts in Community, with a focus on arts for social change within the Interdisciplinary Arts and Sciences Program. She lives on Vashon Island, WA with her husband and son.

About New Village Press
New Village Press is a nonprofit publisher specializing in works about grassroots community building, urban ecology, and community cultural development. Since 2005, the press has been publishing progressive non-fiction that offers useful solutions to social, environmental and economic challenges.

a new year, a fresh start, a moment of peaceful reflection

2009-01-01T09:14:00.000-08:00

I am sitting in my studio on a thursday morning, this new year's day 2009, watching the rain dribble down on the remains of the big blizzard of 2008. I've been hesitating to write for weeks, wanting to give my muse a break, and feeling a bit shy of this public broadcast of my used-to-be journaled, private thoughts. But I want to start making things: objects and images, and I feel this need to pour out the words that might be clogging up the pipes.

I had this sense that I am waking up from a long sleep. It's true that it's not the first time this has happened, but right now it is profound. My dreams refer to this, as does the way that impressions of the world are hitting me, cracking habitual patterns of response, and making me pause.

I think this might happen when people finish books, or when changes push one's expectations into new realms. Or maybe it's the pull of the planets. I honestly don't know.

Ah, but I sense I am being too abstract here. I am looking out the window at lush, thick moss coating an old snag and I feel some sort of identification with it - like there are seeds hiding in this old bark just waiting for the right climate to sprout.

There's more to say...but my fingers are growing restless for something other than keypads...to be continued.

Global Orgasm Day - Happy Solstice

2008-12-21T13:32:00.000-08:00

Almost forgot to announce that today and tonight are Global Orgasm Day (according to some folks in Finland who came up with this and announced it on FB). I hope you will do your part for world peace. We've done ours.

snow crusted into stillness

2008-12-21T10:37:00.000-08:00

So, unofficially it's been said that this is the worst "blizzard" since 1948. I put blizzard in quotes, because without wind and whiteouts, this is really just a freakish snow storm, with occasional icy rain, and intense cold, and lots of snow (over a foot now). I feel like we live in the Alps or somewhere equally remote, but without shovels or plows or anything resembling the capability to deal with all of this. I plan to spend the rest of the day making latkes for neighbors who will be sliding down the hill or up, and curried coconut squash soup. The meringues are already made. As is the raw cranberry, apple and nut relish. After everyone leaves, I will organize my office and start writing a short paper for a conference. I want to write about this moment we are living in, one of great uncertainty and fear, as well as one of enormous potential. I've been doing an inordinate amount of web surfing and gleaning things from various sites that I hope to share soon. Tomorrow looks like another day without mobility, so I am hopeful that the muse will arrive to guide me.

After a Blissful Hike, Some Time in the Studio

2008-11-16T13:42:00.000-08:00

It's a day of gratitude. Having come through so many health and emotional crises this year, we have found ourselves on a gentle plateau looking out at the vista. Bob and I took an impromptu hike down our hill with the intention of finding salmon leaping in our local creek (one of two creeks in the south Puget Sound that is unobstructed and allows salmon to jump up it). The water was too low, but we did find a new trail, a gift from the Land Trust. It took us across the creek and then up through meadows unlike any I've seen locally. We both felt transported to upstate NY or Vermont. It was truly a delight, with all the late autumn colors and birds of all sorts were stirred up by our arrival. I am now determined to add this hike to my normal one - up the hill, following the trails of the equestrian park.

Now I am in the studio contemplating my next projects for the first time in a long while. The marathon of writing the book is over, and the next steps for its production are mostly out of my hands, so my brain is beginning to ease into another chapter. It is a chapter influenced by tightening already tight budgets, and figuring out priorities.

The first steps must be organized towards writing grants to support my sabbatical projects - an eco-art piece on Vashon, and researching community-based, socially engaged art in South America. I want to build networks abroad with all sorts of people involved in this work. Whether the funding will arrive for both pieces is unclear, but I am putting the energy out to make it possible.

The eco-art piece may deal with the former use of the equestrian park - Paradise Ridge once housed missile silos armed with nukes - it was a NIKE base 1956-74, and there is evidence that during those later years the missiles were from the Hercules series and armed with nuclear weapons. For someone who has done lots of work on nuclear nightmares, and who had her thyroid gland removed due to cancer caused by radiation, this is something significant to contemplate and make art about. Nuked Notes could resurrect itself as a site-specific project easily accessible on the local trails as well as an artist's book. We will see.

Another project is a gardening piece - a remediation art project for the Beall greenhouses in the center of the island. The garden will be filled with altars and signage, and have interactive parts. I am excited about all of this.

I feel privileged to have the time and resources to even meditate about these possibilities. I hope my health continues to stay in an even keel so that I can pursue all of them.

It's OOOOOOO-Day

2008-11-05T13:55:00.000-08:00

dear friends -
I can barely focus today because I've been reading voraciously - emails from all over the world, appraisals of this moment written by various great minds and spirits, some well known and some as yet unsung.

Last night was one of rapture, surrounded by hundreds of islanders, many of whom have worked for social change for so many decades, very rarely getting to see a victory so splendid as this one. I was so grateful to be there, hugging crying people, yelping for joy with each new result visible on the large projection screens. Many people remarked that it was like vanquishing the Nazis, as D-Day might have felt. We called it OOOOO-Day, and raised our fists in solidarity and danced and spread our "congratulations" around the room. My son was there, and at age 13, after all the troubles he's witnessed in his short life, I was so elated to see his face light up with the pleasure of seeing something truly good happen. He hugged people freely and bounced on his feet - wow, a chance to see the world as something beyond disappointing - it was the youth who were a large part of what made it happen. The crowd danced and carried on til late in the night, occasionally pausing to weep with the people they saw in Grant Park.

I came home to feast on blogs from friends, current students and former ones, Facebook and images of this new day, and a sense of possibility pouring in from around the world. Check out the slide show here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/

We still have many nightmares to unravel, and that will take years, probably decades, to sort through - we need to relish this moment of joy and it will hopefully sustain us.

Check out this beautiful editorial from the NY Times and the blogged responses that follow - very refreshing and grounded people (mostly).

http://planetwaves.net/pagetwo/2008/11/05/the-next-president/

and then read Michael Moore's view of the moment:
http://www.michaelmoore.com/words/message/index.php?id=240

One photo (taken in Paris) says it all

2008-11-04T23:50:00.001-08:00

Too little time for reflection

2008-11-01T08:00:00.000-07:00

It's another one of those cycles where I run from event to work to chores and the most I get to post is a phrase a Facebook. What kind of writer's life is that? It's a sign of the times, no? But there are times, like this one, where my nose is running, my brain is fogged, and my necks aches, and I've only a half hour before yoga when I have to express some gratitude for this life, and pause. So here I am.

Studs Terkel died yesterday. I never knew him, but felt I did from his open-hearted writing. A mensch. A listener - something I endeavor to become. I wish I was able to do this better in my classes this quarter. I spend too much time talking, trying to fill the empty spaces. I am exhausted by it, especially in my morning class. How can I be present for them, and give them tools for telling their stories? This is my koan, consistently now, for years. Maybe I should reread some of Studs oral histories and see what emerges. Maybe I should give excerpts of one of his books to my Labor class. That might be a plan.

I went out as a "Blue State" last night for the Halloween festivities on the island - with blue hair, blue lipstick, blue eye highlights, blue gown. I had a good time despite a rocky beginning with Sam's costume anxiety, and the way he attempts to "spread the wealth." Thankfully he seemed to have a good time when he met up with his friend, Seth, and then later with his dad. I gave him lots of space and hung out with my friends, then went to a party at a new performing space. It was good to see the community after such a long period of solitary work. Ester did an aerial performance in Black Light to the music of Jefferson Airplane (Just ask Alice) - definitely spectacular entertainment. I met a few interesting people (don't ask me about the strange man - called himself a "lama" who practices "tantra" - I think he thought I was one of Krishna's goatherders). He told me about the glories we will be witnessing in the coming years, and the transmissions he is carrying. I haven't met up with someone like him since my NY years. He handed me his card, told me how much he expected to learn from me, and I wanted to go run for the hills - never wear electrifying blue hair in public again, I thought.

I did reconnect, more deeply than expected, with various acquaintances...perhaps we all need to connect in these moments before the election...moments when we feel a mixture of hope and dread, and realize that we need to find new ways to connect and help each other in this time that has so many challenges awaiting us.

ohmigoddess what a culturally rich moment we are living in

2008-10-19T20:34:00.000-07:00

And by saying that, I don't mean to dismiss how scary it is as well.

Write me and tell me what you think of this constellation of information.

http://www.stealbackyourvote.org

http://aeconomics.blogspot.com/2008/10/our-documentary-is-done-watch-it-here.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycu0soy5RW8

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=9050474362583451279

http://palinaspresident.com

http://feministe.us/blog/archives/2008/10/19/you-betcha-doggone-it/#comment-207283

why I can't blog right now

2008-10-19T09:07:00.000-07:00

The marathon started a month ago - the school year. It is difficult enough to focus on my work during this time, but it has also been hard to see much beyond the political, economic, emotional moment that we as a nation, and we as the world are swimming in (and some are sinking in). I have been reading voraciously, blog after blog, news item after news item, youtube parodies, interviews, excerpts and exposes - it has been a whirlwind.....and what has emerged? Not much that I want to write here. I am overwhelmed, at least periodically, and other times I am thrilled to be on my surfboard, tied to it, as I get buffeted by one wave of powerful events after another.

I'll write more when I can feel the space for it ...today I have to work on a sabbatical proposal, two course proposals, and a piece about peace. I think the latter will be called "how to talk to a lynch mob." Ay-yay-yay.

I also have to give up four hours of my day to be in the confusion of a friend's fashion show - she asked me to be a model, and I said yes (foolishly). I guess we all need frivolous moments in this time...

First day of classes

2008-09-25T22:19:00.000-07:00

I'm pooped, but happy. Students in both classes (Art in a Time of War and Eco-art) seem very open and engaged. I'm grateful for that. Found out that the reason for my exhaustion is more straightforward or mechanical than I imagined. Finishing the book, my abscessed tooth, the antibiotics have all been contributing factors, and I just found out today that my body has not be assimilating the thyroxine I've been taking, so that's the major contributing factor in the low energy department. I wonder what the long term effects of being this hypo-thyroid might be. Hopefully switching to another form of the supplement will make the difference. I am hopeful.

Despite my fatigue, I attended a great seminar with our local herbalist tonight and learned oodles about inflammatory foods and how to balance out Omega 6 with Omega 3 fatty acids. She also did a chapter on GM foods - something I know quite a bit about, but I can never cease to be concerned about the way they've crept into the American diet and the ramifications of that fact. What's also concerning is that most of my friends and family eat in such a way that they are making themselves sick with each bite. Truly disturbing. I'll write more about this when I am less tired.

when you realize how little time you have

2008-09-18T22:45:00.000-07:00

I've been working so bloody hard on this book out of some sense that I have very little time (let's hope I have more than I imagine). Perhaps it's because there have been so many deaths of close friends and neighbors this past year that I finally have fully inhaled my mortality (despite some near misses many, many times). In any case, I am watching my body rally repeatedly, even in its current state of exhaustion, so that I can do what remains to do on the book. I am loving every minute of the process, when my infected tooth doesn't make me feel like I want to sleep for several days.

The most difficult thing about imagining one's death is realizing that you might miss the most important moments in your child's life...that's really, really hard to think about...but I am not going to go there, since I have more tangible issues to contend with at the moment like writing my syllabi and paying bills.

A Debut

2008-09-13T19:05:00.001-07:00

Sometimes you don't realize when you have a gift. My son is one of those people. He has the passion, and he unleashed it the other night. I was so grateful that I was there, since I almost didn't make it.

Off-line bliss

2008-09-08T10:30:00.000-07:00

What does it mean to decide to take one's self off-line in this time of constant connection? It means revisiting the "world behind the world" that Michael Meade speaks so vividly to. The world without ticking clocks - although at Breitenbush there are bells for eating 3 times a day, but that's all that dictates one's daily movements other than the sun, the weather, and whether the soaking tubs are being cleaned. I am so grateful that we get to go there this evening, bit I am aware that it will be under some duress with Bob having missed many hours of sleep last night, and we will be driving in the dark.

Hey, compared to my friends in Cuba who are under the thumb of the hurricane as I type, our life is a bowl of home-grown apples (just made two pots of sauce). Hey, maybe it's good thing I'm going off line - my metaphors are getting a little thick around the neck.

The Contrast is too Much for my Brain

2008-08-26T18:35:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to bed with a wish for the seams of the book to break open, and reveal the crystalline form that needed to emerge. I wanted my dreams to guide me to the story that would enliven the discourse, a tale broken into juicy fragments that would make the reader eager to read the more academic pieces, thirsty to continue.

And it happened, the dreams worked their magic, like they have many nights, with paragraphs popping in and out of my waking state all night, but usually those same paragraphs get lost in the psychic jet stream before I awaken. This morning a new paragraph spilled out of my eyes, fingers and forehead, and it guided me, so fully that I was almost breathless in that first hour of writing.

I spent the day splitting open the dried up carcass of the old draft, and ripping off pieces, planting some of them shortened in other parts of the text, and into it all came the sweet ball of a girl, swirling with energy, and her folded-in shadow self who becomes more squished as time passes.

I don't know if this story will stay yet, even though the countdown to birthline is only a couple of days away. This is what pressure does to me.

As I returned to my desk after a lunch break, I saw a headline about the DNC and could not resist clicking on the button. There I learned that the police had trapped over 2000 peaceful demonstrators and that the batons, tear gas, and pepper spray were being used indiscriminately. I was horrified, and the chemicals that surged through my body seem to mimic their pain. I put on some Michael Hedges in an attempt to sooth myself and return to the sweet ball of a girl, but it was one of the hardest things I've done during this writing process. One of the hardest things.

"My American Prayer"

2008-08-22T14:41:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6BLKV7L8OU

This video was forwarded to me a few hours ago, and I imagine now it is making its way across the screens and speakers of computers all over the world. It is a powerful, moving piece - corny, too - but it will likely affect people by giving them an injection of hope. My 90 year-old mom said to me yesterday that she wishes I'd gotten a job in Canada...she is feeling depressed about the state of the world, as almost all critically thinking people are these days. I recognize that we are in for a helluva ride in the coming year. All plans are off for what will transpire with the coming election. If the Republicans steal this one, again, will the people rise up? If the Dems win, will the crazies in the hinterlands start a violent civil war? How are the various factions adding up the score these days? T, our neighbor, who comes twice a month to help us control the dust in our house, is paranoid. She tells me stories about the M13 and, I, in my ignorance, thought she was talking about a new automatic weapon. No, she said, it's a violent gang that is trying to take over the world. They are currently in deep conflict with the gangs in LA. M13 apparently originated with the Contras. I imagine it is being fed by all sorts of groups, the leaders of our coup d'etat (or rogue goverment, if you prefer, a gentler name for it) included. T said she won't leave the island anymore due to the proliferation of guns and violence. I wonder how much fear you need to swallow before you become emotionally and physically paralyzed in that way. I wonder how many of us privileged folks are walking around in a delirium, taking our meds (well, I take my vitamins, thank you), and blissfully unaware of the brutality under our noses.

I guess this wondering will have to wait a bit. I have the last bits of my book to wrap up...assuming anyone will be reading such things come the winter. Time seems to be shortening rapidly.

Watch the video. It will cheer you up, as long as you don't think a leader will save us...it's us who's got save us, by making the leader work for us.

A Query about Privacy and Blogging

2008-08-17T21:11:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've written here because my second draft of my book is my main focus. Blogging just has to wait.

But tonight I am inspired to write here by reading other blogs. What's that about? It's not a competitive thing; it's just freeing, in a strange way. I've been meditating on the issue of privacy quite a bit in recent months. It's really hilarious that so many of us offer up the details of inner chatter, what all of our information being sucked into some great data vacuum cleaner, and then being spewed out and analyzed by secret service or what's that new organization called: the Fusion? Where they can decide you're an enemy of the state and then put you on all these lists, as if you've committed some heinous crime. And all you've done is show up at a protest. I dunno. I may have oversimplified this fascist innovation, but I doubt it.

So here we are with no privacy from the State, offering up more of the same to an even wider audience. Facebook, MySpace, Uber, Rethos, Open Salon...and on and on. What's that about? Is it about isolation, lack of community, a desire for connection? Or is it some strange form of narcissism? A desire for celebrity? Or an honest to goodness, accessible form of communication? Maybe for each individual it's a mixture. If anyone is actually reading this, please give me your thoughts. I am real curious.

Wolf Tracking in Idaho

2008-08-03T23:11:00.000-07:00

According to the itinerary, Sam is sleeping somewhere under the stars 10 miles west of Bruce Meadows, Idaho with his wilderness awareness camp this evening.
http://www.wildernessawarenessschool.org/youth/teen_idaho_wolf_tracking.html

I really enjoyed meeting his counselors and fellow campers yesterday at the drop off point east of Seattle, despite the early hour (we had to take a 6:30 am ferry to get there in time). I like the diversity of demeanors in the group, and was excited for Sam. Hopefully he will enjoy aspects of the adventure, despite the discomforts. I will be eager to hear his stories when he returns.

One of his counselors recommended going to Google Earth to find the location of the base camp, so I downloaded the program and had a blast looking at photos of the area that are embedded in the maps. I've never been to that part of Idaho (only drove through Coeur D'Alene briefly 5 years ago, when we moved out here. So seeing the remote landscape that Sam will be hiking through was really a kick. If you haven't got Google Earth yet, I definitely recommend downloading. It's free and can give you many moments of pleasure. You can mark and visit every place you've ever lived with this tool, and see how the neighborhood has changed (somewhat). I did notice that the resolution for different parts of the world varies enormously. I'm not sure what the factors are that contribute to this discrepancy.

I visited a few of the cities we traveled to in June-July, and looked at other people's photos of touristic sites. I did not find them compelling, but I was intrigued by the ability to post photos and visit places that I've never been to: places that are frightening (war zones in particular) and places that I'm attracted to.

Other software I highly recommend is www.pandora.com. With the latter, you can create your own radio stations with your favorite music. It is also free, and once you type in the music you like, it creates the playlist and runs continuously. I have had a blast with this, and now have stations devoted to Stanley Clarke, Allan Holdsworth, The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, Pancho Sanchez, Tito Puente, John Coltrane, Jaco Pastorius, Diane Reeves, Chumbawumba, David Byrne, Manu Chao, Dar Williams, Joni Mitchell, Lila Downs, Suzanne Vega, Ellen McIlwaine, Bonnie Raitt, Koko Taylor, Hot Tuna, Laura Nyro, Marvin Gaye, Pat Metheny, Stewart Copeland, Mississippi John Hurt, Muddy Waters, Miles Davis, Michael Franti, Steve Winwood and Michael Hedges. It won't be long before I have a list of 50 artists.

Listening to acoustic guitar and fusion, helped me make some headway with my book's introduction today. Bob says I'm beginning to polish up the writing. I am grateful for that feedback because otherwise I would probably never move past page 5. And I have to get through 334 pages by the end of the month. Back to work.

Fessing Up

2008-07-29T23:07:00.001-07:00

It's really quite funny, but every time someone asks me about how the trip was, I tell a slightly different story, or sometimes a very different story. Sometimes I emphasize the good things, and other times the bad stuff, and I wonder why my mood shifts so dramatically, or why the framing has to shift with each new audience. I imagine that this is fairly typical, although I haven't taken a formal poll. As I become more cognizant of this behavior and it has me smirking at myself.

Moving into present moment

2008-07-28T09:35:00.000-07:00

Sam's at tennis camp this morning, and I am trying to crack the nut of my first draft, and delicately dice and splice it into the second draft. Maybe this blog will be the repository of all miserable and tired metaphors, and I will be able to spare the readers of my book some of the same. Onward....

Contrasts: Bucharest to Budapest

2008-07-26T23:01:00.000-07:00

A medieval fortress on the banks of the Danube in Serbia

sits in direct contrast with this photo of a modern mall in Vukovar, Croatia, a town whose recent destruction is documented in some photos posted a few days ago.

The world we traveled through remains a puzzle. When I finish my second draft of my book at the end of August, I hope to crack open the book, Fool's Crusade: Yugoslavia, NATO and Western Delusions by Diana Johnstone. We shared a wonderful meal with the author in Paris, and I was quite taken with the history and theories she put forth. It might be useful to share the book with my students in my Art in a Time of War class.

Remnants of Folk Life

2008-07-26T21:14:00.001-07:00

According to our guides and stories I have heard from others, the Soviet policy of systemization wiped out traditional village life all over the Balkans (by encouraging the inhabitants to move to the cities) and with this process many centuries of folk traditions disappeared except in the forms that the current cultural tourism allows. These were some of the tastes of folk culture that we had in Hungary: folk dancing and music, cowboys, traditional wall painting, and the wonderful world of the Mangalica pig (supposedly low in cholesterol, but especially if you don't eat her).

This is an example of the traditional folk wall painting in Hungary - found in a folk museum in Kalosc.

The Last Photos of the Danube Trip

2008-07-26T19:12:00.000-07:00

I have gone through all the photos of the trip that I can find (some seem to have gotten inadvertently deleted, alas) and am going to post them in several big flurries. After uploading, it will be time to move on to the next chapter of the summer which involves digging deep into my manuscript and retrieving what's of value, and reshaping the whole. This task will devour the month, but I plan to spice it up with some dancing, music and hiking when domestic chores allow for all that activity. When I can, I'll take my laptop into the garden and pray for focus.

So below you find my cabin bed on the river boat and the tourists walking the plank onto the ship in Solt, Hungary.

Here's Sam enjoying music as the ship is reaching port in Budapest.

Parisian Viewpoints

2008-07-25T22:58:00.001-07:00

When I saw this view from our hotel window, I was pleased in an odd way. It was not the romantic view of the city I was hoping for, but there was something deeply resonant about it and honest. Just how many windows have I seen in various cities with similar piles of disorder on view? The person(s) who created that pile of papers was inadvertently saying "bonjour, ca va? I am a very busy person, with other priorities." I wondered if this was a storage space in a private apartment, or a back office of a business. Creating stories with just a few props seems to be one of my specialties, or perhaps I've just been out in the woods for so long that I am easily entertained.

Below was the view from the top of the Notre Dame (no one will get me to climb that spiral staircase ever again).

Budapest's beauty and Thermal Baths

2008-07-25T22:34:00.000-07:00

Our last night on the boat...before arriving in Budapest at dawn.

The morning we arrived in Budapest I was so excited that I got up a dawn to see us glide into the city. This image is iconic for the changes going on in Central Europe - lots of building, renovation and development - all in service to the global corporate economy. This photo was taken at dawn, just outside of Budapest.

I have so many photos of Budapest's beauty that I could fill a book with them. Here's just a taste.

This is the largest synagogue in Europe, right in Budapest. It's called the Doheni.

We bought a three-day transportation pass for Budapest and became quite skilled at cruising from street car to subway to bus. It was fun and much easier than I thought it would be.

This is a shot from the funicula just a block from our hotel that took us up to the Hungarian Museum on the hill.

Our first evening in Budapest we decided to walk back to the tour's hotel, and made this wonderful detour back and forth across this magical bridge, the Chain Bridge, one of many bridges that connects Buda to Pest.

Taken from St. Stephen's Basilica, this view of Budapest really conveys how FLAT the terrain is east of the river.

I fell in love with the roof tops.

Sometimes I felt like the quintessential postcard photographer.

Many of the rooftops are made out of ceramic tiles, and the patterns are just amazing. I don't remember the reason why they were designed this way - if a reader knows, please post it.

No trip to Budapest is complete without a visit to thermal baths, and we tried three of them. Below you can see the famous Gellert Hotel and Spa, in the early morning light (and undergoing massive renovations). We biked there one afternoon, and had a very cultural experience - the workers, as Rick Steves warned in his guide book, were curt and not too helpful, and the massage was totally a waste of time. Bob never realized that there was a co-ed section to the spa - and I had no way to get in touch with him (and a cell phone wouldn't have helped in this case).

It took me forever to learn how to pronounce Szechenyi Baths. We went there our last afternoon. Although we didn't hang out there very long, I would definitely return there for a more leisurely visit.

Storks are sacred

2008-07-25T22:28:00.000-07:00

Whether in the Bulgarian countryside or in Vukovar, Croatia the locals never tamper with a stork nest. In fact, if a stork builds a nest over your chimney, it might be necessary for you to move (so that you can heat your house and cook). What would our local ecology be like if our values were more protective of the species who live among us?

On the road from Vukovar to Osijek, Croatia

2008-07-24T16:48:00.000-07:00

Another date with a sunset in Croatia

2008-07-24T16:40:00.000-07:00

What can I say? I'm a cornball.

Odds and Ends

2008-07-24T16:19:00.000-07:00

More lingering remnants of the Soviet Era of Architecture: this is a "grand" hotel lobby in Veliko Tarnovo - a pretty town in Bulgaria, a short bus ride from the Danube.

And here is a particularly striking icon painting from a beautiful Eastern Orthodox Church in Arbanassi, Bulgaria.

Romanian contrasts

2008-07-23T00:00:00.000-07:00

Advertising banners are ubiquitous on almost every building in Bucharest, including the Stalinist Baroque Apartment Blocks.

Roma gathering hay on the side of the highway - our Bulgarian guide had little compassion for these people.

Sunset Deprived

2008-07-21T23:36:00.000-07:00

Sunset deprivation is clearly a big issue for me (hence I took dozens of photos of often trembling and romantic sunsets on the Danube). Here on the island we live in a hollow that faces southeast, and the sunset doesn't have a chance to be seen.

And just below you can see my mom enjoying the sunset on her 90th birthday.

A Sad Passing - Way Too Soon

2008-07-21T19:42:00.001-07:00

Lina Newhouser (1951–2008)

http://www.commondreams.org/archive/2008/07/21/10498/

Non-linearity

2008-07-20T20:08:00.000-07:00

I've realized that it is impossible for me to post photos of the Danube trip with chronological accuracy. It will take tooooo much time, and truthfully it's not that important to me. The above photo is from our first night in Bucharest - you can see that Bob, Ben (my nephew), and Sam are holding up well despite the lack of sleep and long plane rides. This was our first family dinner in the ballroom of the Palace Athene Hilton.

Below you can see my nephew Elliot, his mom, Jean, and my brother, Peter (Elliot's uncle) all sitting at the table on the boat (in the light of the sunset) celebrating my mom's 90th birthday.

The below photos of the grandsons were taken on the second to last night of the cruise in the Academy of Science in Budapest. Perhaps you can tell that the cousins had bonded.

Too much Life for Blogging

2008-07-20T08:38:00.000-07:00

I've had intentions to finish the travel blog, and to post lots of significant photos, mixed with some ruminations about authentic culture vs. tourist culture, etc. but this active life has got in the way of reflections. I'm not complaining, but intentions have gone by the wayside. Between diving back into my dream journal, touring the island's organic farms with lovely house guests, rereading my manuscript to begin the editing process, picking berries, endless laundry, dancing in the sunset across the valley from our house at a farewell party and painful, powerful films (The Secret Life of Words and Prime Suspect 6) about the long lingering effects of the Balkan Wars, there's not been time. When I am feeling gratitude for the return of my functional arms and the glory of these sunny days, I do not want to sit and muse at the computer for long - either on my own neurotic muck or the mess of the world.

Eventually I do want to write about privacy (and the lack of it - both chosen and otherwise), and diminishing freedoms (although the illusion remains that we have them). As the increasing decomposition of our social and economic order starts sliding more quickly past our collective noses, I want to be here to grasp it all, somehow. A record of it, from yet another lone voice, seems useful.

Sam responds to the Arts (both old and new) found in the streets of Paris

2008-07-17T22:09:00.001-07:00

And becomes his own sort of temporary sculpture.....

More on Romania

2008-07-17T11:59:00.000-07:00

This topiary outside the Bucharest Opera House made me laugh when I saw it, and when I saw the photo later, I realized that I had caught a typical Romanian woman, appearing to stand on the keyboard.

We had our best guides in Romania - Vlad (the explainer) was the memorable name of our favorite and Rado was a close second. They were the least jaded, had great senses of humor, and truly gave us a flavor of the contradictions in the rapidly changing economy. Foreign developers are buying the gorgeous decaying buildings at a fever pace, leaving the locals with few housing options that they can afford - this is happening all over central Europe - the great gift of globalization at its worst.

Back in the Saddle

2008-07-17T11:31:00.000-07:00

There's been more than the usual dose of chaos here, between my left arm/shoulder/neck deal (now almost fully functional thanks to the magic of alternative healers: Karen, Eli, Marina and Paula and partner Bob's kind attentions) unexpected guests and expected ones. I am finally unpacked and attacking unanswered emails, unpaid bills, and deadlines rushing towards me. But before I get too pulled into the rapids, I wanted to upload some of the choice photos of our trip before I can't remember where they were taken.

First here is the obscene monument to megalomania, "The Palace of the People." built by Ceaucescu (the last dictator of Romania). To read more about it go to: http://www.pilotguides.com/destination_guide/europe/hungary_and_romania/ceaucescu_bucharest.php

This photo does not give you a proper sense of the enormous scale of the palace. What is deeply disturbing about it is the vast area of Bucharest city proper that was leveled to make this icon to greed and corruption. Vast sums of public funds were squandered building it, and it was never used.

Shoulder Notes - A hopefully excusable digression

2008-07-12T07:39:00.000-07:00

Since our arrival stateside, my cell phone with all of its paradoxes, has reemerged as an objet in my life. With its presence, I have caught up with several friends and family members after being without phone contact with them for 3 weeks. I have learned about mysterious and frightening illnesses, so I am taking the current reappearance of the occasionally excruciating pain of an almost frozen left shoulder and upper arm tendonitis with some stoicism.

As I have learned with past illnesses there are lessons being offered in this pain. So when I awaken unable to change position in bed, I try and dive deep into whatever the pain is trying to teach me. The shoulder began to hurt a few days before we left Paris. It was not excruciating then, just majorly uncomfortable, so I moved my shoulder bag (a new and very light one, to the opposite shoulder and crossed it across my chest for our city walks). I was grateful for having another shoulder that worked.

By the time our 23+ hours of travel were done on Thurs, I could no longer raise my arm without the assistance of the other, and the muscles had twisted parts of my neck and back: the occipitals, traps and scalenes into various knots and pretzels. I went to see my faithful Eli yesterday - my acupuncturist who can almost always make time for me even when his schedule is full, and he massaged and needled me into a somewhat less alarming place. If I were a better patient and less carried away by the joy of being home (some right-handed weeding and picking in the garden, some double handed typing of emails, and holding the phone to my ear) and the haze of jet lag, and could more studiously massage, ice, rest, and take my anti-inflammatory herbs and homeopathics, I might recover sooner. (Thank you, dear reader, for putting up with my occasional run-on sentence).

Last night, I woke up several times and took better care of myself by taking the arnica, etc. that I had forgotten during the day (was that daytime?), massaged in some Traumeel and iced a bit in bed. I feel slightly better though my arm still cannot function much. Although it is the island's annual Strawberry festival today and I would normally enjoy seeing the throng of neighbors in the streets, I am feeling committed to stay home, and Sat morn yoga in town center is sadly impossible. I can't bike with this condition and driving into town is impossible with the traffic and the road closure. My right foot continues to give me tsuris (Yiddish word - google it please) so the 7 mile round-trip hike into town doesn't make sense. Also a friend who I haven't seen in many years is staying over at our place tonight with her husband, and I want to be less miserable for their brief visit. Last nights' dreams were complex and broken, but I learned that I am very overstimulated by all the places I've absorbed in the past three weeks (duh) and really need quiet reflection in the beauty of our sanctuary-like home. I felt my musculo-skeletal energy contracting around my lungs and heart in some concerted effort to get me to listen. I am giving that intent voice attention now and feeling immense gratitude for the space to do that.

This photo of Bob holding up the Earth in the Strawberry Festival Parade (as part of the Procession of the Future) indicates that somehow I managed to convince myself to go to the parade despite what my body was telling me. Hey, at least I am not the one holding up the Earth!

Foot notes (bad pun)

2008-07-11T17:19:00.000-07:00

We are home and naturally quite jet lagged, after an almost 24 hour trip from door to door, but everyone is essentially fine.

I will be posting more photos within the next few days, but wanted to answer a question I've received from several friends reading the blog. The public art piece in Budapest of the shoes along the Danube is a memorial piece. Here is some information I found on the web: The Shoes on the Danube Promenade was created by Gyula Pauer and Can Togay. It is a memorial to the people who fell victim to the Arrow Cross Militiamen (collaborators with the Nazis) in Budapest and depicts the shoes that the victims left behind after being shot and thrown into the icy winter waters.

Interestingly, the shoes were cast in iron, not in bronze (as I had assumed). The artists wanted the shoes to be cast in the less valuable metal to prevent theft. Ironically (another very bad pun) some people still felt compelled to tamper with the art work, and during a recent drought some of the iron shoes were discovered to have been thrown into the river.

Few Americans in Paris

2008-07-09T14:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we walked a bit on the Left Bank visiting the statue of Voltaire, the hotel of Oscar Wilde and other highlights culled from Rick Steves' walking tours of Paris. Sam grew impatient with this process of walking and learning, and was probably overstimulated on Saint Germain so we rested in a park near the Cluny Museum, stopped in Gibert Joseph bookstore to get him a copy of Fast Food Nation in English (his required reading this summer), and then made our way to the Luxembourg Gardens for a cafe stop, duck watching, and an unexpected but fascinating show of photos of Europe (since 1855). After that we did a complicated metro trip to Sacre Coeur; this included getting disoriented in the surrounding neighborhoods (I had to ask for directions 3 times). We took the Funicula up the hill, spent a long time in the church, and then wandered through Karen's old neighborhood in Montmartre, stopping at another cafe in Abbesses before meeting Karen at the Gar du Nord. Karen did a special tour of the Gar (she has written a great deal - including a book - on Paris's railroad stations). Here you can see her explaining the new part of the station with great animation. One can just imagine what her lectures are like at the Versailles School of Architecture!

And here is the sign that was left on the balcony of Karen's old apartment in Montmartre by her friend, Rhoda, to welcome us to the neighborhood. After traipsing around the Sacre Coeur with insane quantities of tourists on every side, it was very calming to read her message on rue Gabrielle. It says, " Hi to Sam, Beverly and Bob. Welcome to my street!"

and then we made our way back to her apartment on rue Simon Bolivar (that I had not seen before). Below is the charming view from Karen's kitchen. We now understand why she loves her place so much.

Jim, another Carleton chum (whom I had not seen in 33 years) joined us for dinner. He lives in Holland, in The Hague where he works for the World Court as a translator, and he introduced us to the most decadently wonderful chocolates we've ever had. We spent the evening enjoying couscous and each other's company, and then, courtesy of Jim, took a relaxing cab ride back to our hotel.

We have pissed away Euros this week, as I expected we would. What an amazing ritual of cutting holes in one's pockets and watching the money flow every which way...yes, we received some pleasure, but a cup of tea for the equivalent of $6 is just too much. I have noticed the absence of English being spoken among the throngs of tourists surrounding us at many venues. It is quite clear that most Americans cannot afford Paris this year. Without our credit card we wouldn't either.

Today, our last day of this journey, we had lots of stimulation with a self-directed tour of the sewers near the Place de la Resistance, a visit to the anthropology museum at Quai Branly that's filled with the visual culture of many indigenous peoples (I could write lots of about the controversial architecture and the problems with seeing sacred objects behind glass, but I'm going to restrain myself).

and then the long awaited, long line experience of waiting to go up the Eiffel Tower. I only made it to the 2nd level, vertigo kicked in during the elevator ride up.

No trip to Paris is complete without some images of the Eiffel Tower. The one below was taken when I was in the throes of a serious bout of vertigo. I decided not to take the elevator to the summit, and instead returned to terra firma while Bob and Sam ascended. Sam's trip to Paris was truly complete.

We had a lovely final dinner with Karen and Rhoda. And now we are busy packing at midnight. We are off to the airport in the morning.

Cafe Musings

2008-07-07T09:56:00.001-07:00

Finally, after 18 days of absolutely no privacy (except in the bathroom), I am sitting in a café near our hotel, “completely alone” in the way that cafés allow a lovely sort of privacy in the midst of the crowd. It is a breezy day so the place where I am sitting, normally outdoors, is protected by a flexible, zippered canopy. While this partition keeps me from experiencing the totality of being in the street, it actually offers me a much-desired veil. I can see people well enough: many mothers wheeling their kids home from wherever, and nannies in their native dress, others who are assimilated looking worn out after a long day of being separated from their own families to care for the children of others much more wealthy. The strollers seem to be causing traffic jams on this very, busy pedestrian street.

Sitting in a café, surrounded by the music of people speaking French and sipping a cup of Vervaine tea, I am easily moved to write screenplays, or at least abstracts about the lives of each character I observe: the young American student whose outward style almost passes for that of a Parisian except she’s eating dinner way too early and she sadly doesn’t speak French; the two forty-something women who are longtime Parisians who are sharing many confidences and whose laughter flows past my ears like sparkling rivers; the aging but still very debonair writer or philosophy professor with his considerably younger companion who looks like a 70’s era French movie star). So much in Paris is about the pose, but it is different than the homogenous, nihilistic poses found in NYC underground nightclubs of my youth, or the flaunting of testosterone or flashy surfaces that one might find in a suburban mall. Here pose is about establishing identity, a distinct and authentic one in a diverse city where there is little personal space, but delicious public space. One’s ability to claim that space with the gesture of a hand, the sonority of one’s speech, one’s posture at the café table, is what allows you to be fully present, to breathe, to create some momentary meaning.

Ohmigoddess, I feel I am falling prey to the self-indulgent musings that have claimed thousands who have sat in similar café seats. My apologies to each and every indulgent reader, I hope that what I am sharing here is not too banal.

What continually startles me is that I am of the age of so many who seem quite old to me. I know that I am not the age of the young ones, but I feel frozen in time, as if my younger selves, the ones who have been to Paris before (1970, 1987, & 1990) are sitting on my shoulders, contemplating the scenes and evaluating their meanings.

Paris makes me want to write short stories and take photos, and have the legs and feet of a younger self. I can no longer walk all day and run from museum to museum. This is the most discouraging thing about aging.

We went to two museums today – and did not view things thoroughly in either one. The first visit was for Sam – the Military Museum at Les Invalides: swords, sabers, armor, pistols, cannons, galore and Napoleon’s tomb. Bob and I were patient with his enthusiasm, but he was deeply annoyed when he learned that Bob was bored, and I had had enough after the first half hour. In truth, during those thirty minutes, I spent quite a bit of time thinking about the forces that have shaped our violent culture, the skills routed into creating such consummate craftsmanship and what it means to have people so enthusiastic about weaponry – the museum was as busy as any art museum in town.

Our second museum trip was to the Grand Palais Nationale, and there we saw a show about Figurative Narrative art from 1966-1976. I was grateful because the show was not crowded and there was content that interested me. The exhibition focused on a group of male artists (what else is new?) who were influenced by cartooning, pop art, politics, etc. and much of that made it into their work. Fahlstrom and Peter Saul were among the artists featured, and I was so excited to see work with serious content, that I bought the catalog, despite the fact that every woman in every photo (including Simone de Beauvoir) was unnamed.

Paris, ooooh la la et plus

2008-07-06T08:59:00.000-07:00

It's hard not to write about the sensual pleasures of Paris, especially after a day of walking and talking, eating leisurely, people watching, viewing luscious art and reconnecting more deeply with an old friend. But (you knew there was a "but" there, didn't you?) the more disturbing aspects of everyday life seem to creep into the midst of a splendid Sunday. We were taking Sam for his first walk on the Champ d'Elyssee and witnessed a car accident in the center of a traffic circle. That in itself was not alarming, but what was, was seeing a screaming woman being wrestled down by the gendarmes (the police) onto the hood of her car, and watching many of the spectators in the crowds out on this sunny day, laughing at the "spectacle" of it all. We didn't really understand what had happened, but I overheard someone say in French that the woman had slapped someone (either the man who was involved in the accident or the policeman) and there were at least 5 men wrestling her into submission. We were all shook up by this incident for quite a long time, and spent a while explaining different ways to interpret the strange reaction of the crowd, and the possible reasons for the woman's rage, to Sam.

Later as we continued walking on a narrow stretch of sidewalk (there are barriers up everywhere for the coming Bastille Day celebrations) near the Obalisque, a disheveled man passed me and lightly kicked me, saying something derogatory and abusive. I did not hear what he said, but Sam did and did not want to repeat it. Bob did not know what had happened until we were long past the spot, and so what ensued was a discussion about violence, retaliation, protective behavior, etc.

In the midst of all this, we saw amorous couples kissing on every other park bench, and fashioned screen plays for heady French films about some of the glamorous couples we saw sitting in cafes. It must be in the water.

Soon after we met Karen in the Tuilleries Gardens near the Louvre and learned more about French architectural history (from Karen). Bob and Sam went on the ferris wheel and Karen and I sat in the Gardens and shared stories from the past year or so.

Yesterday evening we met Karen in her neighborhood near the Belleville metro stop and enjoyed the incredible diversity of people's from all over the world who filled the metro. I noticed how much intermarriage has occurred between ethnicities and the extraordinary rainbow of beauty here that is not visible in other cities I've been to or lived in. Diana Johnstone joined us for dinner (she's an insightful political writer) and she said that sociologists have said that the intermarriage rates in Paris are higher here than anywhere else in the world.

Political Truths (Budapest Taxi Driver Style)

2008-07-04T14:04:00.000-07:00

Above is the splendid view of the Parliament and the Danube River from our hotel in Buda.

Our final morning in Budapest would have been uneventful if it had not been for the precious insights offered to us during our last taxi ride in town. Our driver was a 55-year old man – when he said his age, I did a double take – I will be 55 this Sept and thought, “do I look that old?” Ageism is becoming a constant challenge in my life, and as I have looked at the extraordinary and diverse beauty of the youth wandering the streets of Budapest, I have been filled with a complex set of feelings. More on the latter in a bit, for I am digressing.

We asked our taxi driver about the traffic in Budapest and he was quite poetic in his description of the decades-long factors that have led to the various delays. This discussion led to a dialog about the end of communism and how those who were in power before have become the mafia (only now the uniforms have been replaced with everyday clothing, so it makes it more difficult to tell who is watching and who is ripping you off). Corruption is pervasive in every aspect of life. So this was the sad story of how the more things change, the more they get worse. Things continue to be very unstable in Hungary, and there is a sense that those who have managed to migrate to Austria and Germany have a much more stable life. I'm sure that our driver would have happily expounded further on whatever topic, but it was an unfortunately short ride.

Below gives some evidence about the corporate influence in the Budapest airport.

Now that we have arrived in Paris, the economic poverty in former communist countries we just visited is that much more palpable. I will write more about Paris...but I will say briefly that taking Sam on a walk to rue Cler for his first baguette from a Parisian boulangerie was a pleasure I did not expect. AND it is such a joy to experience July 4th without fireworks & loud explosions. We are in a quiet neighborhood...and it feels so luxurious to sit in a cafe on the street with barely any traffic interrupting the calm.

Last Night in Budapest

2008-07-03T13:58:00.000-07:00

Although we have not had enough time to really know anything about this city, we did get a buzz for the place in the 5 days we were here. Once we were finished with my mom's tour group, we made the brilliant move of getting metro passes that allowed us to travel by public transportation all over town. We couldn't pronounce the names of the places we were going to, but we could read the maps and get there.

I am ashamed to admit that after 5 days in this city, I can barely pronounce one word of Hungarian. In my youth, it would have given me so much pleasure to learn such a complicated, but musical language. Now my brain just freezes up.

Most of our time was spent either soaking in one of the many thermal baths or looking at art and cultural artifacts in several museums. We did take a bike ride along the Danube, and got into a few hairy situations dodging traffic: the bike lanes not being as obvious as we would have liked. Still the bikes did allow us to visit one of the most powerful public art pieces I've ever seen.

We were stymied in our attempts to meet local artists, or local anyone, although I immensely enjoyed talking with the young Brazilian woman I met in the thermal bath yesterday, and we were treated with respect and generosity by more than one local, either when asking for directions or when we inadvertently left things behind.

The Conveyor Belt of Tourism

2008-06-30T02:39:00.000-07:00

There's something so seductive about the comfy beds, the plentiful food, the air-conditioned buses, the carefully tailored patter of the guides.. but we are feeling so restless after days of this "canned" experience. Yes, it is precious to spend time with our family, and yes, it is exquisite to have a trip to all these fascinating countries gifted to us, but we feel tantalized by the trimmings without the meal. Perhaps we are travels snobs, wanting to truly MEET people from other cultures and learn about their lives. High-end tourism (as it was described by the people sitting with us at dinner last night)seems to be ultimate of consumerism...consuming the most stunning landscape, the most "authentic" forms of local entertainment, endless quantities of upscale food, continual photo ops, etc. But after twelve days, we are dizzy from the superficiality of it all, and cranky from conversations with people so privileged that their ultimate goal is to visit as many countries as possible, eat and drink ridiculous amounts until they go home and starve themselves, and ignore much of what they observe (or choose not to observe) about the inequities far from home. Maybe it all serves making them feel smug about the lives they've chosen. I dunno. Perhaps I need to read more anthropological studies about the culture of tourism - it seems to be a cultural plane that requires a stronger stomach than mine.

I went into this whole adventure trying to have as open a mind as possible, and I did meet one woman traveling alone who was politically astute and critically thinking. But she was the exception among the two dozen or so people I met outside my family during the trip. Even last night, at our farewell dinner, I continued to dangerously dive into political conversations with "entitled" folks who expressed xenophobia, racism, classism and more, without a blush. I've always liked testing the edges of my own assumptions, but I am a bit worn out from this exercise after 12 days.

Hopefully our last few days in Budapest will give us more of the depth we crave.
Tomorrow we will spend alone with my mom, who has one last day in Budapest before flying back. Then we will cross the river into Buda, where will stay at a cheaper hotel, after 2 nights in this superficially & ridiculously priced 5 star hotel (featuring the sounds and vibrations of jackhammers outside the window from 7 am until almost 6 pm).

Gotta get dressed now for the last family dinner.

Dessert on the Danube

2008-06-29T13:31:00.000-07:00

This is just one tiny example of the eating of the week. I will post more later. The EuroCup is captivating everyone tonight - the lobby of the hotel is packed with people drinking beers and smoking cigars...it is quite amusing to watch the game in Hungarian.

Budapest is Best

2008-06-29T13:00:00.000-07:00

I was so excited when we sailed into Budapest this morning, that I was up at dawn to witness the entry into the city. It was splendid, more beautiful than I imagined. I was sad to leave the gentle feeling of floating on the Danube, but grateful to arrive in a city that is pulsing with energy, a complex history and tons of cultural activity. We left our boat this morning, and are now in the heart of beautiful Budapest.

Slowly I will start posting photos. Here is one from our first morning on the Danube Delta (6/22).

Tonight we are in a 5 star hotel, courtesy of the tour my mom arranged. It is very spacious after our tiny boat cabin, with high ceilings and an oversized bath tub. She is looking forward to getting back to her apartment, doing the laundry and reading her mail, AND, as she put it, NOT eating so much.

Gluttony seems to be the overriding impulse of these tours...I'll post some photos of the food soon...

High winds in Hungary

2008-06-28T00:22:00.000-07:00

I probably will not post again until we are in Budapest, but it is a beautiful day and I did walking laps around the deck despite the gusts that almost blew my glasses off. The landscape is richly dotted with picturesque villages now. I will miss the sensation of gliding on water. It has made my dream life particularly rich.

Vukovar seen by full bellied people

2008-06-28T00:20:00.000-07:00

Tonight we are sailing to Hungary with rain pouring down, and lightening flashing far off in the distance. This morning we were awakened by lightening, but we were fortunate to have no rain during the daytime, just cooler weather. I am grateful that we had no weather challenges while visiting the towns of Vukovar and Osiejk, Croatia. I will post the stark photos of Vukovar's battle scars in a couple of days. Over 90% of the town was obliterated during the war in the 1990's. They've rebuilt a lot in recent years, but the holes from shelling, bullets, and explosions remain in all parts of the town. The amount of bombs that were dropped there boggles the mind. Fields are still filled with mines in many outlying areas. Our guide mentioned that there is a strong anti-war movement that has emerged since the last war, and that it has taken many years for people to become friendly with their former enemies, but they are drinking together again.

After several days of tour guides (Romanian, Bulgarian, Serbian and now Croatian) Bob and I noticed that we are getting slightly saturated with details...most of which have little depth...this is one of the main perils of tourism. It is just the sort of information that you can carry home without any threat to your world view. We both are looking for a narrative that is probably not available with this sort of tourism.

Still the guides who have been with us since the start of the trip are very kind, open-hearted people who do their best to make sure that everyone has a good time. They all have different strengths, and I have been admiring their tenacity to deal with the demands of this work. I could NEVER do it.

Here are the sunflowers that have greeted us in every country. These are Croatian ones:

Most of the time, people in our group are either complaining about how much they are eating or how tight their clothes are becoming, or they are commenting on how good the food is and how difficult it is to resist it. The contrast between this particular reality and the landscape of war was impressive.

We hope that we will not be awakened by the Hungarian customs at two in the morning. We have been warned that this has happened in the past. We will see.

Feeling HOT, HOT, HOT

2008-06-26T09:21:00.001-07:00

I wish I could upload some photos, but they will have to wait until Budapest, when I have a connection that is faster than this misery (it's worse than any dial up). We were in Belgrade today. Fascinating history. I actually can give a decent sketch of the mess that once was Yugoslavia now. It's a really sad situation now, with a huge brain drain going on here (similar to Bulgaria). I will post a more nuanced discussion when I can write more.

The heat makes it difficult to stroll and observe with the patience it requires, but our brief visit in Belgrade, walking on a pedestrian mall, a park, and side streets, showed the wear and tear of its recent struggles.

Navigating through the Iron Bridges (a series of dams) - June 25

We are halfway through the cruise, making our way through the Kazan Narrows between the Balkans (Serbia) and the Carpathians (Romania). We have seen medieval castles, country hideaways along the river, and a rock where an adulterous queen was tied up until she repented her sins. We spent the whole day on the boat, but most everyone seemed relieved after several days of busing all over the place. The choreography of this form of tourism is about controlling the environment (in terms of safety), keeping bellies full and spirits entertained. There is more to it, and I hope to write more about it.

Once we made it through the locks, we sailed through a narrow passage where we encountered this public art piece on the Romanian coast. It is a contemporary piece, though it looks older.

Rhoda's 90th Birthday

2008-06-24T13:08:00.000-07:00

It was a great day for my mom, despite the weather being extremely hot. The boat is air conditioned inside and there is always a breeze when the boat is moving, so no one seemed too miserable. The crew fixed a special cake and decorations for her and many of the guests came up and shared birthday greetings with her. She seemed delighted, and after dinner, we made it to the deck to watch a spectacular sunset. The breezes and the classical music capped off the evening.

During the afternoon six of us rode bicycles onshore (not my mom, who has never ridden a bike)and enjoyed a really low key day in the Bulgarian town of Vidin. It was not a guided day which was a nice change of pace. We were told to visit an old fort from the 10th century and Sam was captivated by imagining himself defending the fort from the Ottoman Turks. We also biked to an old synagogue that was clearly splendid at one time, but now only weeds grow in its interior.

Tomorrow I am hopeful that I will be able to upload more photos, and write
with more coherence and complexity. The heat has only given me cliches today.

End of Day 2 on the boat

2008-06-24T12:57:00.001-07:00

It’s been difficult to access the internet the past two days, and it’s been quite frustrating since I had it as my goal to post something every day. Ah well.

After several hectic days, we finally slowed down today. We were mostly on the boat. My belly is full from yet another splendid meal - everything is fresh and really yummy. I will post some photos at some point.

Yesterday morning I awoke at 5:30 with this extraordinary view of the river flowing right by, as I lay in my bed. I couldn't get back to sleep, I was so captivated by the landscape of the lower Danube delta. Endless banks of trees, no development, the rich smell of fresh water mixed with the perfume of blooming linden trees...I took many photos, including this one of the sunrise...

Sleeping on the Danube

2008-06-22T12:49:00.001-07:00

First I have posted a photo for Janie - she created a pill "popping" system to help me accept the challenges of being on a heavy metal detox protocol while on vacation. Her sense of whimsy has caused at least one nephew to be highly amused and given me daily pleasure. Here's Sam enjoying our bed in Bucharest.

Today, after a long bus ride through Romanian agricultural lands passing wheat,corn, sunflowers, rye and vineyards, we took a much anticipated dip in the Black Sea in the resort town of Mamaia. My mom was stunned by how much it has changed since 1965. It used to be a worker's holiday town - now it is competing to look like any globalized vacation spot. Vodaphone and coke ads screaming from billboards, garish neon signage and an elaborate water park were just part of the scenery. We had a tasty lunch at one of the hotels (although few of us had appetites after our huge buffet breakfast only 4 hours earlier and sitting on a bus for so long). We waded into the cool waters, noticing a large refinery on the shoreline not too far north.

After our swim we went through the town of Constanza visiting Roman ruins from 40 AD and learned more about the origins of the Romanian culture/language. This short visit was followed by a very long bus ride (mostly caused by several traffic accidents on Romanian two lane highway) and finally arrived late to our river boat. It was hot, really hot on the river(especially after our NW spring of Junuary) but we were all happy to get here. Our room is small but luxurious - having a ceiling to floor window that opens to the smell of the river. I will post some photos of the room tomorrow. Our dinner featured very elegant food and service, but Sam had no appetite and seemed a bit disturbed by the excessive amount of rich food. Perhaps drinking a glass of champagne before dinner was not the best strategy for him.

Labeling what I post

2008-06-21T20:54:00.001-07:00

Yikes, what kind of blog is this anyway? The last photos were of Peles Palace, built by the Royal family in the late 1800's. And the Sinaia Monastery Church, Eastern Orthodox (the majority of Romanians are of the latter persuasion).

About Looking (after the dear John Berger)

2008-06-21T20:40:00.001-07:00

These are some of the buildings we looked at yesterday. Sam was in awe of the craftsmanship in the palace. We weren't allowed to take photos inside unless we paid extra to do so, and none of us knew how spectacular it would be inside so there was little incentive to pay for this privilege. We assumed that postcards would offer us the same views. Sadly the postcards did not display anything that I would have photographed. So I have learned from this. Sam was annoyed that the adults did not display adequate enthusiasm. I tried to explain that the adults have probably seen many castles, museums, etc. with equally spectacular work, but he was unmoved.

So what does looking provide people with? Is that mostly what tourists crave? To look unabashedly? And how does that serve us?

Is Tourism Ever O.K.? Act I

2008-06-21T12:38:00.000-07:00

Here we see a small group of tourists gazing up - are they looking for stray bomber jets leaving one of the thousands of military bases set up around Europe? Did someone scream UFOs? In truth, these are members of the small Naidus clan. My sister-in-law, Pat, who lives in England and is retired. My nephew, Elliot, who lives in San Francisco working as a barrista, and is applying to med school. My brother, Rick, who works as an emergency room doc in San FRan.

This gesture of looking seems to be the most common feature of tourists. Sometimes the look is curious, sometimes bewildering, sometimes truly bored. What does it mean to tour? We will investigate this when I've had a bit more sleep. Tomorrow we get on the boat, and I don't yet know whether I will have interent access. If you don't hear from me soon, you will know why.

en route today

2008-06-21T11:55:00.000-07:00

Typical Romanians waiting for the bus on a Saturday morning (MUCH less traffic - there are 1.7 million cars in Bucharest - the weekends are the only time that it is possible to drive through the city.

More later. I've gotta pack for the boat before I fall over from fatigue.

The Carpathian Foothills

2008-06-21T07:14:00.000-07:00

I should be napping, but I am going to go for a tour of the Bucharest Art Museum now. I will write more after dinner. Until then, I wanted to post one image from today's "adventures."

About 6.5 hours of blissful hours of sleep

2008-06-20T20:33:00.000-07:00

It's gonna take a couple of days for my body clock to reset. I was up at 3 am, and only managed to catch another 45 minutes more of sleep - but it was good sleep, with a satisfying snippet of a dream. So I am not complaining. It's 6:30 am here (8:30 pm on Vashon), and we have to be ready to get on the road this morning at 8 am for a day of driving into the Transylvania Alps.

At the reception dinner last night it hit home that we are on a tour. Not that I was delusional before arriving here. I see it as an opportunity for sociological study (not of the countries we are visiting so much, except for the tourism industry, but rather of the tourists themselves - I being one of them - and I've been making lists of what draws people to tours and what the pitfalls might be. Both may be obvious to the readers of this blog but I will list them nevertheless. But before I do that I just want to share some other fragments of yesterday's blur.

Waiting for our flight for Bucharest in the Charles de Gaulle airport gave me such a kick. Each gate represented such adventure (yes, I am a romantic): Beirut, Riyahd, Lagos, Bogota, Tunis, Algiers - I looked over the faces of people sitting in each gate - mostly serious men - and wondered what pain or corruption they were returning to. Yes, I can be the queen of projection.

Last night at dinner, with all ten of us sitting in a circle, was quite something to see. My sister-in-law Pat noted the plethora of men. Only one female offspring in this Naidus clan (me) and sadly no nieces. But I was feeling quite happy to be with everyone, and I could see that my mom was as well. I sat next to the queen to soak in her beaming energy. Sam was eager to have a legal glass of wine, but after a short time at the table he realized he had no appetite and was ready to fall over from fatigue. My mom seemed distressed by his lack of appetite, but I was glad that he knew his limits and went upstairs. He is sharing a room with my mom, and not complaining too much yet. Everyone is glad of that.

The tour folks all made speeches and announced who had been on this companies tours multiple times. There are 99 of us on this trip. Many more than I had imagined. Mostly older folks. There are many 5 people in their teens or early twenties, traveling with their families. I will have more to say about them at some point.

Here's a photo of the star of this trip, our soon-to-be 90 year old mom and grandma, Rhoda Naidus.

Arriving in Bucharest (with maybe one hour of sleep)

2008-06-20T07:33:00.000-07:00

This photo of a neighbor's laundry taken from our hotel room conveys the feeling of traveling for 19 hours, and not sleeping more than an hour. I am miffed to say that I mistook, at the last moment, the thyroid meds for sleeping pills, so we made the trip with only homeopathics for jet lag. The sleeping pills traveled in a checked bag. Yet, despite my fatigue, I am sitting here writing rather than sleeping, so I guess I am not doing too badly.

We have no time for anything but showers before we have to go down for the dinner reception, so I am writing this while Bob is trying to rev himself up in a cold shower.

Our trip was uneventful, and was as comfortable as a 9 hour non-stop flight to Paris with cramped leg room, and short layover in the complex, endless security-check-ridden maze of Charles de Gaulle airport, can be. Multi-media was alluring, and we watched bits and pieces of bad movies, but the highlight was this new feature (to me, new) where you can see what the pilots see, and see below (especially fascinating when flying over northern Canada, Baffin Island and Greenland.

We learned soon after we arrived that my mom's trip, organized to be without any discomfort (biz class, non-stop) turned out to be hellacious. The limo driver ran into traffic on the way to JFK (an overturned semi), then got lost and my mom ended up missing her flight. She ended up on a flight that went through Brussels, in coach. Not what a woman celebrating her 90th birthday wanted to be doing. But to her credit, she is a whippersnapper at almost 90, rolling with the punches. She arrived in Bucharest only 4 hours later than planned.

So all I can say about Bucharest is 1)the traffic sucks royally - something I had heard from others before getting here to witness it personally, 2) there are some gorgeous buildings in serious states of decay (and developers from other richer nations are swooping in like vultures, and 3)people seems to be a gorgeous mix of Slavic, Mediterranean, Turkish and Asian blood lines.

Tomorrow we are off to the Carpathian mountains. More soon.

Meeting One's Match 2

2008-06-18T23:40:00.001-07:00

Leopard, our intrepid rodent hunter, has finally met his match. This peacock wandered into our garden yesterday. Seems like a good way to begin our journey to the "motherland" with this particularly hilarious omen.

Meeting one's match

2008-06-18T07:17:00.000-07:00

Wonders never cease.

Friends are beginning to die off

2008-06-12T21:59:00.000-07:00

Michael Rossman, an extraordinary social activist, archivist, progressive educator, naturalist, and friend, died last month, and I had no time to note it anywhere, except for the emails send to him (two weeks before his death) and to his widow. I won't be able to attend his memorial because I'll be in Romania celebrating my mom's 90th birthday. I am sorry to miss all of the wonderful people who will be there to celebrate him.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/19/education/19rossman.html?partner=rssnyt&emc=rss

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/11/sports/baseball/11asinof.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

Elliot Asinof was a kind man, with a wicked sense of humor. I met him when I was an artist resident at Blue Mountain Center back in the fall of 1983. He was one of the only people there who would talk to me (everyone else was holed up in their rooms duking it out with their muses). We played some hearty games of scrabble and chess by the fire while I listened to pieces of his remarkable life story.

Ready to Roll

2008-06-11T22:52:00.000-07:00

So the manuscript is cooking with the various chefs, and I expect that it will need lots of stirring - just like compost needs it. I am still living inside the book, and rewriting bits and pieces of its 340+ pages (107,598 words), but need to take a break and organize the physical pieces of this life. Much has gotten out of whack, and it has been a relief to just straighten out chaotic closets. Hey, when the modern world is collapsing from the heinous crimes of the corrupt, what better thing is there to do than clean out a closet? In any case (why oh why do I always use that expression - it must be cultural), inanycase (better as one word, no?), we are getting ready to leave on a big journey. Off we will go to the land of my grandparents, and various ancestors - I really don't know how far back...perhaps to the inquisition days??? We are going to Romania next week to celebrate my mom's birthday - her 90th and will celebrate it floating down the Danube....I am so happy that she chose to do this rather than some dreary party. Mom is such a good adventurer, even at this ripe old age. It's remarkable. Truly.

I hope to be able to blog the whole trip - 20 days in Romania, Bulgaria, Serbia, Croatia, Hungary and Paris - right here, and post photos. We'll see how ambitious I am once I am sleep deprived and on the road. There's no telling.

Close to done with the first draft

2008-05-31T23:24:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am about two days before tying up the last bits and pieces of almost 100,000 words. If anyone had told me that I would be plowing through so much verbiage in the space of 8 months, I would have laughed heartily and then looked at myself in the mirror and said "are you nuts?" What artist in her right mind would want to write so much? Who would attempt this while teaching full-time, going through a heavy metal detox, parenting a 13 year old son, etc.? Someone who is really driven, I guess. But here I am sitting and writing a blog entry after dancing to Motown for a couple of hours, and writing at least 2000 words tonight. Hey, it's a full life, if nothing else.

There may be missiles poised to shoot up the whole damn planet a thousand times over, and there's many other crises that would make any sane person want to take meds, but, hey, somehow we have learned to compartmentalize the muck, and not look in too many painful directions at once. Wonder if that was always part of our DNA or evolution provided for this once we developed the technologies to wipe ourselves out in multiple ways.

Guess that's part of why we've created diaries online...we can share our growing insanity, or perhaps the remnants of our sanity as things get more chaotic.

BTW the new title of the book is Arts for Change: Teaching Outside the Frame. Seems kinda boring, but Recipes for Coping with the Increasingly Insane World doesn't really work either. Maybe this will be a good place to brainstorm. Ideas are welcome.

Writing My Book

2007-10-20T13:13:00.001-07:00

I heard a little piece of a radio interview today with some smug author (didn't catch his name). He said that one can write a book if one sits down and writes 2000 words a day (and then parties the rest of the day - his notion of partying was not mine, so I won't repeat it here). Then after six weeks, you have a book. Sounds like a recipe, not a creative process, but with me dispersing my energies in every direction, it might be a good idea to establish some sort of minimum output per day. I've been using the metaphor of squeezing a tube of toothpaste that is full of holes, in response to questions about "how's the book going?"

So here's my recipe. Turn off the web browser and email program. Sit somewhere quiet with soothing music with no lyrics (Miles Davis, Coltrane, Holdsworth, all work well for me). Get the right posture so you don't strain your neck or arms. Start writing and let the muse speak through you. Pretend you are talking to an audience and that they are in the room with you. Or just write like you are writing in your journal. Don't get caught in large abstractions without telling the stories behind them. Let it flow until it your body tells you it needs to stretch. Take breaks on your yoga mat, go for a walk, put on salsa music and dance, or do something non-verbal, like playing with clay or paint. Drink lots of water. And then go back to your chair, and return to the process again and again. Read and answer email at night.

Don't edit until you've written the first draft.

Of course, there is the struggle with family and domestic needs, but do your best to schedule things so that you have solid hours in the writing chair.

My book, Outside the Frame: Teaching Art for Social Change, is working its way to the surface. New Village Press will publish it next year. I may not be writing much for this blog for a couple of months, but I'll be back with lots to say, I'm sure.

Keeping in Balance

2007-10-17T08:37:00.000-07:00

It's for these young ones, that we do the work we do.

2007-10-04T23:23:00.000-07:00

Your Votes Have Been Tallied

2007-10-03T22:22:00.000-07:00

Thanks to all of you who took the time to tell me what you liked and what is not working in my newly renovated website. Although many of you suggested that the mystery of moving through the space to find the links on the finger tips and palms was delightful, a significant amount of folks found the site inaccessible or clumsy to move around in. We are looking at various strategies to make the navigation more transparent, without losing the pleasure of the roll overs. Look for some changes within the week. We appreciate your patience.

Welcome to my renovated website

2007-09-24T20:02:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone - It has taken almost two years of sometimes painstakingly slow, intensive and often interrupted work to finally get together this renovated website. I am so glad to be done with this process, and I am grateful to my html expert and web consultant, Dan Schueler, for helping with every step. While there are some pleasures to be had reviewing and contextualizing old work, this archival process is not my favorite. And I have some concerns that this new format will make my work less accessible. You, the viewer will have to tell me what works for you and what doesn't.

This blog will be the way that I keep this website up to date. So this is where you should return if you are interested in keeping track of what I am up to, whom I'm collaborating with, where I am giving talks or workshops, what's inspiring me, and how "me" is expanding into "we." If you want to share your work, blog or event just send it this way.

I'm somewhat ambivalent about the blog as place to process ideas, and the numbers of potential readers who will be able to access this space is fairly startling. But it can be an educational forum with the possibility for exciting dialog, so I am trying to keep an open mind. I will be exploring how boundaried I will need this form to be. Hanging out "dirty laundry" doesn't feel like the right strategy for catalyzing social transformation, but I might be wrong about that.

I look forward to a rich dialog with readers and browsers of all kinds.

Beverly

From my new series about Global Warming

2007-06-22T19:47:00.000-07:00

Yes, they thought Fiber Glass pillows were a good idea back in 1946

2007-06-22T19:44:00.000-07:00

Artemis Breathes Through Global Warming

2006-05-21T22:06:00.000-07:00

Disturb the Comfortable, and Comfort the Disturbed

2006-05-21T15:28:00.000-07:00

Recently I saw this slogan on a bumper sticker posted in a professor's office. In the back of my mind, I remember hearing this year's ago, but at this very moment, my work with students and in my studio embodies this expression. It is good to have such a clear mission, but it isn't easy work. A quick search on google confirms that this mission is speaking to hundreds of thousands of others. How many molecules in the fabric have to do this work until we turn the whole quilt into a new image?

Welcome to Artists Stirring the Compost

2006-05-21T13:15:00.000-07:00

Well, whaddya know, here we are in blog land finally...hopefully we will get to add our little piece to the compost before this marvelous pore in the public skin closes for the non-corporatized many....

get ready for the ride.....

you are coming with us........

or we are all going down in this ship together!