Other Ways to Go

This video artist, Jeremy Blake, recently walked into the ocean after his longtime girlfriend, Theresa Duncan, also killed herself. They were a young NYC/LA couple, hip and cultured, successful by most standards artists hold themselves to.
This double suicide has fascinated the Artworld. They were beautiful, they were popular, they were on the way up. She wrote a cryptic and intelligent blog. They were also apparently paranoid and frustrated. I wonder if the constant stress of keeping up the image of “artist” was involved. I wonder about myself, if I could keep up the image, if I should do it. It’s a very selfish lifestyle.

Best Way to Go

My Grandma S. died in her late 60s and we thought my Grandpa S. would soon follow. But he blossomed after the death of his wife of 50 years: lost weight, sold most of his stuff, pared his life down to only essentials. He was like Yoda.
Grandpa was a snowbird for years, coming down from NoCal to the SoCal desert for the winter months. I’d paint out there with him, staying in his tiny camper (once I brought a boyfriend and it wasn’t much appreciated…) He fed me oatmeal and didn’t give me advice.
This widower legend finally got too old to drive, and lived in a mobile home park, gently chuckling at life, until he got sick, went to hospital and died after two weeks. Saw him before he left, and he was still smiling. He greeted my kids as the “Future Presidents of America.”
Tree photo with white gouache by Tacita Dean at MOMA

December

The dreaded holiday season is all of a sudden upon us. You can’t ignore it when you have kids. Last year was easier: no relatives around, Moslem country, my new life not yet started. Now I’m a bit paralyzed. Need to shop and organize and knit and decorate and cook and finish my semester and tend to my family. Yikes.
I’m going skating.

Don’t Give me a Grande

It seems there is a Starbucks on every corner of NYC. Disgusting except for the bathroom opportunities offered.
The other day in SoCal I took the kids there for hot chocolate. Kid.02 spilled his before even taking a sip; he was distraught about the stains on his pants, poor guy. I went into the store to get a clean up rag and order a replacement drink, and they charged me for it. Let’s just say this didn’t give me the warm fuzzies.

Wallowing in It

I am like a blanket with holes cut out of the center. I am missing people, and there is no way to replace them. Slowly I must patch and mend.
I have been kicked off a Turkish mountain into the dry California scrub. After a prestigious Senior Fulbright Scholarship, I am once again a lowly art instructor with no security.
I am trying to submerse myself in painting to help me feel better. Working on two series now, a small group of gouache studies on paper, and a larger cycle of acrylic interiors on canvas. Both are figurative.
I am loving my family and friends.

How can I Describe for You New York City?

It is the center of the world for artists.
It is fashion, where Abercrombie is like a disco, where designer shops line the neighborhoods, where discount stores are wild with shoppers.
Food is everything, from pizza-by-the-slice to wild boar and polenta, from toasted bagel with cream cheese and jelly to warm squid salad with radicchio, from warm beer to martini.
It is the holidays, trees and lights and windows dressed with snowmen and mermaids.
At 3am the streets are still full of partiers, girls in mini skirts and five-inch heels in 30 degree weather.
And New Yorkers are so friendly, they talk to you, they treat tourists kindly.

NYC Kloe

It was great, needed. I am thankful to have been able to go, to have met old friends there. Hope you had a great Thanksgiving, too.
Ladder by Martin Puryear, at the Museum of Modern Art.

Funeral

Got through it. Party was good. Everyone exhausted.
That evening we saw a Black Crowned Night Heron. It stood in the light a few minutes, and then unfolded it’s squatty body into a huge and graceful W as it took off.
Am going to NYC tomorrow to be with friends and see art.
Take care of yourselves,
Kloe

Some Things I Learned from my Gram

• Travel your little heart out
• Be glamorous
• Throw great parties
• Cook a mean pot roast
• Clip newspaper articles for other people
• Deflect the conversation from yourself
• Wear beige, pink, and navy blue
• Take meds if you need it
• Stay fit and slender
• Drink good gin and scotch
• Eat quality chocolate
• As you get older, make younger friends
• Put up a good front
• Hold hands
• Look at the sky

What Makes a Good Teacher?

Kid.01 said that the “boy teachers are funny, lady teachers are nice but strict.” From his limited observation, this is true. But does teaching naturally attract different kinds of people based on sex? In my experience male teachers tend to “perform,” even art professors (and especially art history ones) are well beloved for their use of heavy joking in their lectures. Maybe teaching attracts a broader range of women (and let’s face it, it is traditionally “woman’s work” and lower paid, so the brightest and best women don’t choose it). I try to be a bit funny, but can’t pull it off every class…
But what makes a good teacher? Creativity, flexibility (can’t stress this enough, nothing ever goes as planned, and if it does, you’re doing something wrong), humor, empathy, organization. Keeping yourself fresh. This was why I went to Turkey, and it definitely gave me new perspectives on teaching. Wonder where I’ll go next?
(shot above is a student piece about texture, isn't it fun?)

Dying Just Sucks

People who are dying can be very irritable. They are not easy to be around, and hospice nurses and caregivers must be saints to deal with the moodiness, changeability, and downright surliness if the elderly person still has her wits about her. You would want to just slowly and sweetly fade away, right? But we fight it, we can’t accept it, we don’t feel old in our minds, even if our bodies are wasting away. We don’t want life to end, we want one more month, one more day, one more hour.

Inherit What’s Important

My family is an odd combination of Puritan-frugal and priviledged middle class values. An older generation that did quite well, and succeeding generations who have done less well. I am about to witness something I haven’t before: the extended, blended family dealing with an estate. I’m afraid it won’t be pretty. Thank god I’m not directly involved. But I know my gram promised people things, and didn’t write them down. It’s human nature to make assumptions, and then comes hard, cold probate. Some will be furious. Some may feel betrayed.
I am trying to feel detached. That I won’t, for example, get the piano (I, the only one to play it). That the paintings I made in the house may be given away. There is no way to quantify love, no use in trying.
Suck it up, as she would have said.

Hang the Expense

When you realize someone is in her final weeks of life, you stop penny pinching and counting calories. You buy the best food to try to get her to eat, you open the caviar and champagne that’s been sitting around. You bring expensive flowers. There is no reason to give tangible gifts, in fact the person is giving away her stuff right and left. You spend a lot of time just sitting, being with the person who you can’t believe will soon be gone.

Ashes

My gram wanted to be cremated. That’s not the normal thing in my family, but I was not surprised when I heard it. She felt alien in the body she had in the end, in the past 10 to 20 years. She always told me how hard it was to grow old, even though she did it gracefully: the physical indignities, the lack of privacy, the fatigue, the slow diminishing of the body. My gram was a very glamorous woman when she was younger. She was beautiful in old age also, but she couldn’t see it. I don’t blame her.
Beauty is hard to possess, because it is lost. Her old age body had to go.
Photo above is me in her mink stole, which she gave me before she died. I wore it in a performance piece last weekend. It cause big stir, intended, of course. Somewhere I think my gram was cheering me on.

More Student Letters

Blown Away

I just finished teaching a first semester design class. My final project was to “write a letter to someone who is not in your life anymore” (or to someone you have yet to meet) in images and words, using all the media and elements of design we studied in the course.
I was so moved by these student projects I’ve included them below. They include letters to grandmothers, an unborn child, a sugardaddy, a future mate, an absent father, and a boyfriend in prison.


(text to the steaming pot)
There are times when I go to your house
I close my eyes and wish to
See you again. I open the door. I start walking
Wishing that when I turn into the
Kitchen, I’ll see you there cooking like always… but
You are never there
And my heart shrinks back down again.

Trunk of an Adjunct Art Instructor

This is a good indication of my life. Art boxes for each school, text books, projects-graded and ungraded, portfolios, extra pads of paper. Then gym bag, food and emergency clothes for kids, sun umbrella and chair (soccer mom stuff), change of shoes for when I can’t walk in heels anymore.
Next semester I have to teach ART HISTORY OH MY GOD (caves to cathedrals), art orientation, and linear perspective. Am hoping for a miracle to keep me from this fate…

What’s Been Happening

I’m feeling very disconnected these days, a combination of overwork, undereating and grief. But I’m also surrounded by friends, near and far, who are comforting me.
As you may have guessed, the months since I’ve returned from Turkey, that I’ve been talking about art and cars and blogging, I’ve been unable to write about one of the primary situations in the life of Kloe, that of watching my beloved grandmother slowly fade out. I couldn’t write about it because she was still reading this blog, commenting on it, giving me advice, etc.
She didn’t accept her own terminal state, her scarred lungs, her inability to breathe. How can I understand her, she who was always so sharp and self-aware, until I am at that same point between life and death? I cannot judge. And she is a Christian, believes in Heaven and salvation and God. What will I do in a less comforted state?
If you know me in real life, you are welcome to come to my mom’s house on Nov. 17 at noon for a memorial party. I and my family would appreciate the support.

Last-Ditch

Today Bush met with Turkish Prime Minister Erdogan in Washington to try to convince Turkey not to attack PKK militants in Northern Iraq. NPR said there are 100,000 Turkish troops massed on the border, waiting. Although most are skeptical that this meeting had any affect, I think it’s possible. I certainly hope Bush offered some pretty big incentives to Turkey not to attack.
I worry about my friends who have teenage sons about to go into the army. I worry about my Kurdish friends in Turkey. I worry that Turkey’s economy could take a dive.

In the end life just ebbed away.

One day she told me she had forgotten how to turn on her computer. She couldn’t focus on the conversation, but she did say, “Kloe, what are you doing?” after I told her about an incident in my chaotic life. And she was right, of course.
Two days later when I saw her she was staring at a painting of a young boy sitting in a watermelon cart. And she asked for watermelon. It was one of the last things she ate.
The next day, she only looked out the window at the sky, not at me anymore, so used to being the center of her focus. How can I function without that adoration?
The next day, she was in her bed, and she didn’t open her eyes anymore. Her face was one I’d seen before. I held her hand and just told her I loved her. I know that she was showing me the way to die, at home and quietly, without fuss. I took the photos of her and her sister and my grandfather, all young and carefree, and arrayed them over her thin legs under the quilt. This is the way she wants to be remembered, because she was vain like I am.
And the next day she was gone.

Over

She is gone now. Will write about it soon. Am ok.

Day of the Dead

A different kind of artist and artwork.

Halloween Again

Last year in Turkey I had a hard Halloween.
This year was an improvement, but still difficult. Spent the morning volunteering in Kid.01’s fourth grade class. The teacher was very smart, and harnessed the kids’ almost uncontrolled enthusiasm to gather and graph data. The question: What is your favorite candy? The winners were Twix, followed by KitKats and Skittles. A few favorites made me laugh: Godiva chocolate, Ferrero Rocher, and Raisonets.
I taught all afternoon and evening, so didn’t get to go out with the kids Trick-or-Treating. But my students brought in food (and all important chocolate) and we had a little party.
The hard part was expecting the dreaded phone call, cause she’s almost gone.
Chocolate surfer sculpture, above.

Pop

Have you heard the new Annie Lennox single? “Dark Road”–it’s gorgeous. I just love a pop song that surprises me with development. Another beautiful one is “Show Me” by John Legend.
The inevitable thing I’ve been fearing for months seems to be coming. It will be hard.
Artwork by May-ling Martinez.

Just Be Quiet

Some students have so many excuses for themselves. They are usually young, and haven’t made school a priority, so don’t put in the time. And that’s not really my problem. If you want to get by in my class doing the minimum, and are OK with a C or D, then more power to you. I hope you do well in other areas, whether different courses, working, being a fantastic boyfriend, or the becoming world’s greatest video game player. Just don’t make excuses. I don’t want to hear you didn’t have time to do well on my projects. I don’t want to hear about your potential. I’m sorry you don’t have money to buy the supplies for my class. I really don’t want to hear that you’ve done this stuff before and already know it, so shouldn’t have to do my assignment. Sheesh.

Plays about Islam and Culture

On “The World,” a public radio program, I heard an interview with Dutch playwright Adelheid Roosen, who writes on the Muslim immigrant experience. From interviews with men and women, she’s created “The Veiled Monologues” and “Is.Man” about honor killings from a male viewpoint (which one man described so simply: “women carry it (honor), and men protect it”).
When asked whether a white protestant should be addressing immigrant issues, Roosen replied that she’s acting as a bridge, and does copious research. I also think that perhaps immigrants themselves wouldn’t explore such delicate issues as honor killings, at least not in an Art context. (Turkish artists inside Turkey do take risks and address these issues.)
Image above was taken in a Turkish bridal bazaar in My Anatolian City.
PS Am shocked to hear there was a battle today in central Turkey between the PKK and the Turkish military. I hope I misunderstood.

Off

It was the most beautiful afternoon at the beach: groups of dolphins jumping in the calm sea right beyond the waves, fat pelicans dive-bombing and skimming, the occasional father with five kids in tow, “needed to get out” looks exchanged between us. Found lots of whole sand dollars, which I always consider a lucky sign. Only the military helicopters overhead reminded us that inland things are not so good.

Thoughts on Evacuation

Four years ago, when we had bad fires, people had very little warning before they had to evacuate. Many just grabbed their kids and pets and bolted. Some died trying to flee the fires.
This time it was much better, but huge numbers are now displaced.
I now keep a list taped to my cabinet door of what to get in case of evacuation, cause when you are panicked you can’t think straight (I saw this first hand):
• Papers: insurance, house documents, medical records. Basically grab your filing cabinet.
• Medications and sundries (our Turkish friends told us that in the big earthquake a few years ago, people ran out of feminine hygiene stuff and diapers)
• Pets, in pet carriers (apparently there are more pets than people in some shelters right now)
• Ir-replaceables (artwork, heirlooms, jewelry)
• Ditigal camera, with photos of your house (for insurance)
• Phones, laptops, hard drives and chargers
• Kids’ toys, games
• Pillows and blankets
All my classes have been cancelled til next week, and the kids are off school (shades of Turkey in the snow, how to occupy bored ones when they can’t go outside…)
Photo above shows what’s in the air over a 24 hour period.

Something About Natural Disasters Just Makes Me Want to Sleep

We are all OK, and the fires seem to be under control. Some dicey moments for those close to me, and at one point I though my house could be threatened. The winds just howl down the canyons and valleys of SoCal, spreading fire like you can’t believe.
So now the kids are out of school for the week, and I’m uncertain if I’ll be teaching tomorrow. I actually am a bit grateful for the break, although sorry about all the people who’ve lost their homes and pets.
Will write more tomorrow.
Love, K

Fire News

Dawn this morning, the sun is rising through a huge smoke cloud. I went to work this morning, half my students showed up, and after a few hours of teaching I let them go. My evening class and all classes tomorrow are cancelled. Driving today the freeways were empty, so people are staying home.
TV and radio have been better than internet in this emergency. News and map sites get trafficked too heavily and bog down. The fires can’t be mapped accurately because the smoke is too thick to see what is happening from the air.
Winds are forecast to continue til tomorrow afternoon. There are evacuations in some areas to the ocean now, tonight. This is simply incredible.

SoCal is Burning, Again

The dry hot Santa Ana winds from the east starting blowing last night and by this morning three wild fires had started, probably by downed power lines. One is in LA and two in SD. I also heard of a small one in OC. The Santa Ana is not supposed to die down until Monday evening, and these fires usually can’t be stopped. They move faster that you can run or, in some cases, drive. There is almost zero humidity in the air, and we’ve had almost no rain this year.
By 5pm my car was covered in ash, and the sun was setting blood red because of all the soot in the air. There are mandatory evacuations in many areas, and we don’t know what’s happening in Mexico—it doesn’t get reported here, but I imagine the situation is also pretty bad. It’s possible schools will be closed due to poor air quality tomorrow.

Reconnect

Since my return from Turkey I’ve gotten back in touch with some old friends. Why do we let friendships slip away? When we had a history of shared experiences, when we had such fun together? Sometimes lives just drift apart, making us feel we don’t have time for someone on a different lifepath. But being abroad has taught me the value of friendship, and also how enriching it is to spend time with people who aren’t “suburban with kids.” Glad we’re back in touch, L.

Foolishness

This was a mean post. I am sometimes a bitch. So I wiped it out. Sorry.

What the…?!?!

Trying to teach my boys to be responsible around the house, they must make their beds and fold their pjs. Recently my older son complained “folding is woman’s work.” I was shocked to hear this coming out of his mouth (my girlfriend told me I should have slapped him, and she’s a model mom). If I teach nothing else it is that men and women are equal.
“Where did this come from?” I grilled him.
“ I just thought of it.”
“Well, don’t think of it again!!!”
Good come-back, huh?

No Sales

I pulled my show, “Portraits of Turkish Women,” down. My friends and colleagues ask me “So how’d it go?” And I say fine, how would it go? But then I realize what they are really asking is, did you sell anything? No, I didn’t and didn’t expect to. This was not a commercial gallery, but an artist-run space, albeit a very professional looking one. I’m not at all upset about not selling a painting. The main goal was for me to put myself out there, to get another one-person show on my c.v., and to talk about Turkey.
The paintings did engender conversation—about feminism (one student told me her husband asked her, “why do feminists always have an agenda?”) and about Turkey. My guests at the opening were most curious about the little avatars/princesses collaged onto the portraits, and I talked about the Disnification of just about everywhere, about how in Turkish culture there is a dearth of female personas that might appeal to little girls, and about how the ideas of “princess” and “strong woman” can coexist.
Anyway, next week I have a photo project in a group show. The piece is about the Turkish kitchen, how amazing meals come out of those cramped spaces.

Kloe is Outraged

Do you see what our “Armenia Genocide” resolution is doing??? I just can’t believe the news. Turkish generals are proclaiming it’s the last straw from the USA, and are threatening to invade Northern Iraq in retaliation for us and Baghdad allowing the PKK (the Kurdish terrorist group) to operate in the area. Believe me, the Turkish army is nothing to mess with. This could make the situation in the Middle East much worse. Plus oil prices are sky high with the news. All this because Armenian lobbyists from my own California are pushing through this resolution that so gauls Turkish pride. I feel for Armenians, but this is not the time! More Kurds, Turks and Iraqis will get killed. And Americans too.

Patriotism

I come from a conservative family politically. And predictably, I’m a raving liberal (could you guess that?). But I’ve noticed that since I’m back from Turkey, where patriotism/Ataturk/Turkish heritage are not looked upon frivolously, I’m treating rituals like our Pledge of Allegiance more seriously. I think living abroad makes one quite “thankful for the USA,” quoting from a song my kids sing at school. Experiencing that Turks can hate what our government is doing (witness the Armenian resolution) but still treat American individuals with hospitality and warmth sort of puts things in perspective.

Reunion

Tonight I went to an informal xxth reunion of my high school class. I graduated from a small private high school, but haven’t kept in touch with anyone. These things are always worrisome, because of the comparisons that go on between what you do and what he/she does, how we all look, and money/kids/success blah blah. But it was surprisingly easy. Maybe when we get to a certain age we are more forgiving of each other? Let’s hope so. And I have to say, everyone looked pretty damn good.

Green Flash

This evening I made fried egg sandwiches and Kid.02 and I headed out to the beach for a dinner picnic. As I watched my six-year-old romp in front of that beautiful Pacific horizon I thought about:
• The Turks and Armenians and Kurds, stuck in this cycle of revenge and memory. What happened 100 years ago is lost to us, but many people on all sides were killed. If only we could live in the present, and Turkey could help its poor neighbors, and develop tourism for all the wealthy expats to come and visit, everyone could win… Why do we Americans have to stick our noses in situations that are so delicate, when we have enough problems as it is? (In Turkey, the Armenian and Kurdish issues are taboo, and most Turks see things very black and white, so our actions can only provoke outrage.)
• A great student of mine who withdrew from my class today due to illness. Is it because of his health that he worked so hard and was so honest? I hope he stays in touch.
• My loyal family, sticking by me and my decisions.
Then I saw the green flash for only the second time in my life. In that last moment before the sun is gone over the horizon, the light turns brilliant lime green just for an instant. It seemed like a sign and made me happy for the future.

Walk Forward, NOW!

You know that book that’s popular now, where you live as if what you want in life has already happened, and then what you want will come true? This book (and I think there’s a video, haven't read or seen either) has also been translated into Turkish. So a friend of mine in Turkey read it, hated her job and began to clean her office as if she was leaving, and then she indeed got fired (a loss for her company).
Another friend of mine always lived extravagantly, even when she was poor, but now finds herself quite successful (of course she also worked her fingers to the bone to achieve success).
So what would my life look like as a successful artist? That’s the problem, defining success. Is it sales? Respect? Being happy with my work? Getting the tenure track job? Gallery representation? Painting or making art every day? I think the biggest thing for me is respect from the right people. Those people don’t even know I exist right now, sigh… But I’m going to NYC next month to check up on how my work is doing there, and push my agenda. Will be fun too!

Scattered: Hot, Tasteless, Color Desire

Today and yesterday we’re finally having a Santa Ana in SoCal. It’s been unseasonably chilly here this fall, and now the hot desert winds are blowing, gorgeous. The sky and water are the bluest blue, and you can see the mountains and islands clearly. It makes you want to do crazy things, this weather.
Entering the second week of serious hours working. Only one day off each week. I’ve noticed my typical reaction to work/physical stress: food stops tasting good to me, I eat only for energy.
Opening went well, lots of my lovely students were there. Thanks, guys! Then went to a crit with painters I very much respect, and they were enthusiastic about my new series. (No one makes mean comments, but you listen to what they don't say to figure out what's not working.) Have been wanting to paint, but no time now. Am interested in doing some tiny paintings with my new gouache--the paint is, as my students say, awesome. Talens, Plakkaatverf Gouache, way to turn a girl artist on…

If You Make Me Laugh, I am Yours Forever

Justin Timberlake with rotating chest hairs, by Kraig Cavanaugh.
BTW, Turkey changed my mind about body hair…

Super

Ok, this totally made my day. Video by Larry Caveney.

Best Wishes from Turkey

I sent email announcements for my “Portraits of Turkish Women” exhibition in SoCal to my friends in Turkey. Now I’m getting the most lovely emails back:

from a close friend:
Dear Kloe,
I miss you... and this semester going to be very sad I can say that. All students asking you. We saying that Kloe was go back to SoCal.
Anyway I put my life slowly in order. How about you? I received invitation of your exhibition. Thank you and congratulation.
I wish, I were there. I hope you will get big success in the art world of your country.
When I came to my room after the long summer break I saw alot of great art books in my office. I got shock. You left me a treasure.
Thank you for all. Today S and I we talk about you. She also missing you too much.
This semester I will go to Afyon Kocatepe Universty Fine Arts Faculty to give a painting studio class. It is going to be very hard but I need to be far away from Our Anatolian City just for a while..
Keeping touch with you
Have a nice day, take care your self
:)

from my gallery in Ankara:
Congratulations ! Hope the guests like the portraits. We wonder about their impressions, especially when you compare with the people in Turkey. Looking forward to hear from you soon and best wishes,

from a Turkish artist friend:
sevgili kloe
sergini kutluyorum başarılar diliyorum çok güzel bir sergi olacagına eminim. yolladıgın çalışmayı çok sevdim.
sevgilerle

(art above by Turkish glass artist Cemal Cingi)

Trying to Stay on Board

Oh dear, I am so exhausted. I even went to teach a class at the wrong time today. This week has seemed an eternity and it’s only Wednesday. I’m sure I’ll get used to it, but the comparison is what’s killing me--in Turkey I taught only 13 hours a week. So now 28 hours is incredible to me. I know some of you may be thinking, well it’s not 40 hours. But this is 28 hours “performance” time, not including prepping, arriving early and staying after, grading, or any online student/bureaucratic stuff. OK, this is my last whining post, I promise.
This is a joggling board. I think it’s from the South. You sit on it and rock, and when lots of kids bounce at the same time, some fall off.

Portraits of Turkish Women in SoCal

I opened a show of my portraits today. The actual reception will be Friday. So besides all the teaching I’m planning this party. As usual, worried no one will come. It’s not an exhibition to sell, but to educate, and start a conversation about life in Turkey and especially what it’s like to be a woman there.
Helping me is my friend, a wonderful artist who just had a big success in an exhibition of her own. Thanks J!