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!

Teaching Loaded

Tomorrow I start a hellish month of teaching almost 30 hours per week (a normal teaching load is between 18 and 24 hours). I’m adding another school, and this includes two sections of a course I haven’t taught before. I know I’ll be OK, but right now with the prepping and grading I’m already behind on, I’m STRESSED! Plus my next show opens in five days. Send chocolate thoughts.

Fest

So the thing to do here in SoCal is art festivals. Booths, open studios, art walks, bus tours, gallery hopping, music, kids crafts, food and wine, etc.—seems there’s a neighborhood festival every weekend. Some happen every month, some once a year. I don’t know how much art actually gets sold, and the quality is pretty ragged, but it’s fun and mostly free.
Aren’t we artists (and gallerists) just crazy? We spend time and money to make our work, then put it out there for you to enjoy/criticize/hate/ignore, and spend more on pr and wine, basically because we’re compelled to do it. We know we won’t sell much if anything.
This guy hangs his work in and on a really cool old trailer. The formica inside is to die for.

Five Reasons to Volunteer in your Kid’s (Grandkid’s/Nephew’s/Little Brother’s, etc.) Classroom

1. You can see what is really happening in the trenches everyday, whether you’re stapling worksheets, grading a math test, or helping students paint, write or read.
2. The teacher will see that you’re invested in your kid, and will treat him better.
3. The principal, staff, and other teachers will notice that you are there. You will become a valuable commodity.
4. You can see who your kid’s friends are.
5. And most importantly, your kid will be prouder than proud. It’s so worth it.

Don’t Forget Me

I’m starting to get lovely little notes from Turks who are finally back from their summer holidays and starting school again. Don’t worry, my friends, I haven’t forgotten you! I miss you and think of you often. Even though I’m fully engulfed again by my life here, a part of me has remained in Anatolia, and I will search for a way to return to you.
With love,
K
Photo is of an Ottoman house in Bursa. Although this one looks like it will have to demolished, many of these houses get restored.

Car

I bought the car. Went to the DMV, that great equalizer, to stand in line. Getting an appointment online wasn’t that practical, so I prepared myself with a book to wait for hours. But it wasn’t that bad. Working at the DMV must be a pretty interesting job, dealing with everyone from 16-year-olds getting their first license to 90-year-olds who shouldn’t be driving anymore. All employees speak Spanish, of course.
I really love my new, old car. It’s an adult car, faster than what I’ve had before. I was washing it yesterday and two people walked by to tell me it was already clean…Thanks, G.

Retail Field Tripping

My kids are now attending the neighborhood public school. Their first field trip of the year was to a Barnes and Nobel Bookstore. Yes, six classrooms at a time, invading a retail store and café, teachers wild-eyed with envelops of money, different amounts for each child. (Many kids didn’t have money to purchase any books.) This was a fundraiser for the school, but I can’t quite get over the fact that the children should have been going to the public library instead. I saw 9-year-old girls marching down the aisle drinking chilled coffee drinks that cost $4 each. The kid in front of mine at the checkout didn’t have enough money, so I helped her out, and got out of there fast. But I guess my own so enthusiastic about their “violent books” (kid.02) and their Captain Underpants and Dave Barry pirate novels (Kid.01) is worth it… I think.

New Projects

I’m painting, of course I’m painting, an intimate series that’s about half done now.
But I’m also thinking about a new art project, possibly video or performance based, created with my longtime art-making partner. She’s obsessed with food and sugar. I’m obsessed with the body. So we might make a work addressing how the body changes during our adult life. We gain weight, we lose it, we get pregnant, and then our bodies deflate. We puff our muscles up at the gym, we tan ourselves, we let ourselves go and get skin cancer. We begin to sag and stoop with age, our joints fail and we limp. We can’t get it up, we experience sexual renewal, we visit the plastic surgeon and pharmacist for a tune-up.
It’s constant physical change. And we thought once we grew up, that was it, we were Big, and then we’d get Old, and as Kid.01 put it, “phuft, it’s over.”

My Fridge is Organized, Dammit!

I am such a highly organized person that sometimes I add chaos to my life on purpose. I suppose most people who blog regularly are this way, it takes a certain anality to do this. I strive to put each thing and person in its place, everything clean and all the messiness hidden away. And then, I get bored. And then, sometimes, in trouble.
Worse is when I go in a space that belongs to a friend, and let’s say that person is a bit on the sloppy side with his or her environment. I want to help them fix it, not a good thing for a friendship… breeds dependence or resentment. I need to let dirt lie.

Here

I grew up in a medium-sized working-class town in SoCal that didn’t, and still doesn’t, have the best reputation. It’s not all Beveryly Hills Pacific Palisades La Jolla here. I remember thinking when I was a kid that “we” were not allowed in the fancy places. But it was not a bad place to grow up.
Our house was on a dead end. To the west, a few miles away, was the Pacific. To the east, canyon, chapparel, mountains, and the desert. Up there was the endless Central Valley, down there was Baja. In between was the narrow strip of land that millions upon millions of people want to live on. In general the further east, and sometimes south, you went, the poorer the communities.
So imagine my shock the other day when I drove, in my little town, three freeways to the east, on a six-lane road where before was a dirt track. This road is tastefully landscaped, with light fixtures and intersections waiting for subdivisions to be built. Where do all these people come from who can afford $700,000 houses, big boxy things with no yards?
My destination was a new shopping center, in itself a weirdness. It’s not a mall, enclosed or open air. Rather, it’s a group of upscale chain retail outlets and eateries built on small roads, trying to imitate a main street, surrounded by oceans of parking.
As you can see from the photo, a rain storm was also coming, and that’s surprising for September in SoCal. The song is right, it hardly ever rains. Makes you want to live here too, right?

Bitch, Bitch, Bitch

If you can believe this, my urban college doesn’t have internet access for adjuncts. Nor does it have wireless in the library. I guess older profs and deans aren’t web-dependent yet, and don't push for web access at budget time, a crime because most classrooms are not wired either. Poor students, who don’t have computers at home, lose out.
The librarian directed me across the street to this little non-Starbie café, where the internet is free, the coffee great, and the music just what I like. But there is trouble in paradise: a worker told me the city is harassing them (umbrellas outside without a permit, etc.) so some chain can come in here to go along with the ritzy lofts and condos that have sprung up all around (condos no student could afford…). I swear, SoCal belongs only to the rich.

Starting Off the Second Year on a Happy Note

My cousin married a lovely woman who had a young son. This boy was interested in art and we encouraged him. His mom even brought him to one of my figure drawing classes at the tender age of 15, and if that’s not dedicated, I don’t know what is, for both mom and kid. So now he’s in his first semester of art school and sent the following letter to my gram. I’m sharing it with you to give you hope for the next generation.

Hello Grandma!
How is everything?
I am having an amazing time at college. My classes are really
stressful, but I enjoy every minute of them. In my drawing class we are
working with charcoal and learning the basics of sighting, mapping, and
contour. My 2D class is focusing on visual narratives and different
ways of representing a story… Art history is interesting, the class isn't.
My 3D class is my favorite. I made a 3 foot tall metal sculpture as a abstract caricature of myself. I am quite proud of it.
In other news I am an assistant to my friend, who is a comics
major here. I draw his panel borders and ink them when he needs
it. Soon I will be filling blacks for him. I basically do everything he
doesn't necessarily have time for. I feel really excited and honored
that he trusts me enough to help him with his work. I finally feel like
I am beginning to grasp my career as a comic artist even if I am doing
very minimal, mundane things.
Even though sometimes I am overwhelmed with balancing work and free
time I am indescribably happy. I am working toward my future and I feel
like I am achieving it one step at a time. I don't feel stuck in a rut
like I did all throughout high school. I am surrounded by friends and
like-minded people and I am being given a plethora of new
opportunities. Doors are opening to me and I am starting my life.
I love you Grandma and I hope to hear from you soon.

One Year Old

Happy Birthday to me, Kloe Among the Turks; this blog has survived one year.

I have the best job in the world.

I was so happy today with my 2D Design class. We had a critique of an organic line project, and my students were articulate and enthusiastic, which makes teaching a pleasure. The mix of mature people (“I lived through the 70s”), scientific types, international students, and unique personalities really gelled tonight.
I also have wonderful friends who are caring about me, even from far away, when certain things really suck in my life (and who is exempt from this?). Thanks for being there. And to you for reading and commenting!
XOXO,
Kloe

Bad Summer Letter

Here’s an email (name deleted) I received from a second year Turkish student. It makes me sad she feels so powerless, but maybe I also felt like that at 20. I’m impressed, though, that she took the initiative to stay in touch with me:

Hi Kloe,
After all I could write a mail :) I hope you are well. Now I'm in the city for some things to do at school. I hope you will be at University this year. May be you are here :) I have a bad summer holiday because I spending time idly :( I want to do lots of things but always I can't. I use a present time for why it's always like this. May be the problem is me… I think absolutely me, but I can't do anything. I don't know what am I going to do :( this annoying me very very lot :( I have lots of dreams but I can't reach them. Can be problem my horoscope :) I 'm pisces :D You know that they always dream and dream :D now that all…

Photo: an old friend and I share gooey profiterols on Istiklal Caddesi.

Yes, A Sunset Pic

Bad, bad artist Kloe. I never let my students use a sunset, it’s just so cliché.

This is where I live.

So you can see how I feel quite unreal. If I didn’t have all the baggage of being a native, I would be in constant awe of the place.
Am going in-line skating. Can you get more SoCal than that?

Happy Holidays, Oh You Jews and Muslims

Yesterday was the start of Roshashana, and today Ramadan starts. Wishing you joy.

Food Progress

I didn’t get food poisoning once this past year; the first time I lived in Anatolia it was my regular way to diet. I think refrigeration has improved in the past decade.
Other things you can find in Turkey that were hard to find 11 years ago:
Skim and lowfat milk
Diet cola
Lots of wine
Different kinds of raki
Organic produce
French cheese
Cappuccino
Starbucks and Illy coffee
Asian foods
Salted butter
Here in SoCal I’m missing good feta and yogurt, fresh and cheap bread, flavorful cucumbers, and my favorite tahini rolls. Am about to break out a bottle of raki I brought back with me…

Anniversary

On Sept. 11, 2001 I was at home with a two-month-old baby. Woke up late and was nursing when my sister called to ask me if I’d listened to the radio yet. And she said, turn it on.
One of my first thoughts was to be very afraid for one of my best friends who works in Manhattan (she was OK, and saw the whole thing). Other thoughts were where to run. Visions of going south across the border, hiding within our poorer neighbor who normally we shun.
At that time we had a Turkish family living with us. My friends look Turkish, meaning Mediterranean, and the woman doesn’t wear a headscarf. So no one would know they were Muslim by sight. And it turned out they didn’t suffer any discrimination during their stay in SoCal. But they were just as afraid as we were. Their family in Turkey went crazy with worry.
My beautiful Istanbul, at dawn.

Cowboy Art

This painting is by Olaf Wieghorst. It’s one of those “if the house catches fire, grab it” artworks. In fact, friends of my parents lost their home in a forest fire a few years ago, and several paintings burned up--those people are still crying. I’ve never loved this work, though, too cool and emotionally distant.
What I do love is Deadwood. I’m watching the third season on DVD now. Smart, violent, sexy, and the language, oh my God, the language is amazing. And Ian McShane really pushes my buttons, but I bet you guessed that…

Trust in Foreigners

The other day I stopped by Whole Foods for some good quality stuff for my gram. Midway through my shopping spree I realized I’d forgotten my wallet at home (a bad thing to do at W.F.). I had no I.D., so the store wouldn’t even take a check.
If I had been in Turkey, I could have walked over to my bank and solved the problem. Because after the initial set-up of my accounts, no teller ever asked to see my I.D. again. They just gave me money. Incredible, huh?
(I drove home to get my wallet.)

Shooting Noises

Conversation overheard in the back seat of my car (and yes, I got the car):
01: I’m going to kill you with my mega-death.
02: I’m not dead yet… I’m going to shoot you with my ear-guns.
01, 02: (shooting noises)
02: I still didn’t die!
Painting by William Forsythe. It’s a gouache study in one-point perspective for a larger oil. Quite fresh, especially the sky.

Relive your Youth at a Peace Party

Based on my class assignment to make a movie about world peace, two friends held an international peace party at their Turkish apartment last May. It’s sort of long and drunken, but full of beautiful young university students from Turkey and all over Europe, Efes beer and sigara içmek…

I Want to Drive You Crazy, Too

I try to read all Anthony Lane’s New Yorker movie reviews because they are so smart and funny. Recently he wrote an article, an adoration really, of Barbara Stanwyck, who was born 100 years ago. She was a versatile actress, and the public never really knew her personal life. It struck a chord with me in relationship to the multiple identities I and other visual artists take on.
“When I think of the glory days of American film,” writes Lane, “at its speediest and most velvety, I think of Barbara Stanwyck.”
He quotes from the Howard Hawks film, “Ball of Fire” (1941) to Stanwyck by Gary Cooper: “Make no mistake, I shall regret the absence of your keen mind. Unfortunately, it is inseparable from an extremely disturbing body.”
And a Stanwyck character speaks in a Frank Capra film “Clash by Night”: “What kind of animal am I? Do I have fangs, do I purr? What kind of jungle am I from? You don’t know anything about me.”
To which Lane answers: “No, and it drives us mad. Crazy about you, baby.”
Now is that a love letter, or what?

Drawing from the Nude

I came home from work last night buoyant from teaching my figure drawing class. We had a model for the first time. It’s a very large class with many young students in their first semester of college. Everyone was totally cool, model was professional and beautiful, and one guy even told me, “I just did the best drawing of my life,” to which I replied “Great, I hope you say that often in this class!” Cute, very cute.
One of the religious ladies was in the kitchen, and as I related my day, her eyes grew big. She finally got her question in: why do you have to work with nude models? And you know, no one has ever asked me that before. I told her that sometimes the model is clothed, that we need to see the structure of the body, that we study anatomy. But it really comes down to two things: centuries of tradition of working from the nude, and that people like to look at naked bodies and pictures of naked bodies. Why not be truthful? And believe me, drawing a nude is pretty challenging for most students.
Extra credit for knowing where I took this photo…

False Life

So I keep getting reminded, this is not your real life. And yes, when you’ve lived abroad for a year, and you know it’s a temporary situation, you know it’s not your real life. But I came back to another situation that was not my real life either, a stressful situation. Now I’m going to yet another place, which I have six months in, and you guessed it, it’s not real. You get to a point when you just want to live, whether it’s a realistic situation or not.

Young Passion Can Solve World Problems

There was a young American student with me the second semester in Turkey. She was such an archetypal Californian: blond, sexy, always laughing, so friendly, even with very limited Turkish. I’ll call her Sunny. So Sunny was immediately surrounded by many young Turkish guys anxious to take her out, and she smiled on one, and he turned out to be a real sweety. An entrepreneur, working his way through university (not normal), from a liberal family who immediately adopted Sunny. It became serious. Now she’s back in SoCal and he just got a visa to visit her here. And she wants to return to Turkey somehow before she applies to grad school. Imagine if this kind of relationship can promote understanding between cultures, two beautiful talented people from opposite sides of the world who desire each other…

Thoughts on Excess Stuff

Have been reading some other blogs about expats returning to the USA, and how we are mostly shocked and dismayed at the amount of material stuff we live with here. You can get used to living with so much less, which somehow frees you up for other things, like seeing friends, playing with your kids, making art, or blogging.
I’m having the curious experience of “shopping” in my own house. Let’s say I need something, maybe a tool or some workout pants. In Turkey I would have either done without the thing, or would have had to plan an elaborate shopping trip to purchase it. Here I go into my garage or storage, do a targeted search, and voila, needed item is found.
This artwork fits somehow… a handwoven rug by Renee Petropoulos at Rosamund Felsen.