Back again at the old Wordpress site and I’m going to stay put.  I thought I was doing something clever switching over to an iWeb site but I was in well over my head.  No need to go into it—I’m just so glad I could retrieve my old site.  Lesson learned—I am no tech wizard.

In fact there were a good number of lessons learned—

Tech issues can stress a girl out even after years of yoga!

Do not throw things out until you have the next thing working.

etc.  Too boring to continue….

BUT I did discover how much I love my wee blog.  It really is an awesome place to explore various endeavors and see everything in one place, and to communicate with others.  Now it almost feels like I’m starting over.  I was hoping that when I transferred the site I’d actually be able to put more things up in a coherent way but I’ll figure out how to attach a new site to the blog rather that transferring the blog.

Anyway, back again and here to stay.  And soooooooooooo grateful.

I am in the process of changing this site over to the new one. It’s all a bit technical and I confess I don’t understand any of the transfer details. I’m just crossing my fingers that in a couple of days this will look very different. So, my loyal readers, if the site disappears for a bit it will be back, I promise. One way or another!! But most everything here will disappear or be reconfigured. It was fun. That was then. Now, on we go!

Yesterday we held Allan’s book launch party at the Arsenal Center for the Arts in the midst of the oddest weather ever where it went from balmy and warm to freezing blizzard of wee snow balls in a matter of minutes.  This was for his new book, Stories We Need To Know and with dire weather predictions we got a few emails from folks who said they didn’t think they could come with such bad driving conditions.  But we set up the food and drink table as if there’d be a crowd and, happily, there was!  There were at least sixty people and we ran out of chairs so some had to stand while Allan gave his talk.

When we arrived we had difficulty getting the fancy projector that hooks up to the computer to work so there were a few anxious moments of a technical nature.  By great good luck a lovely woman I know stepped in from the theater down the hall and she had the number of Martin, the young man who actually knows how to work the projector, so we were able to give him a call.  Then it looked like we’d forgotten the plastic glasses so I dashed to our local store to buy more only to realize I’d left my wallet at home.  It was one of those moments when the deep yogic three-part breath was put to good use.  No point in rushing, just breath deeply, proceed to house, pick up wallet, breathe deeply, return to store where plastic glasses were exactly where I’d stashed them by the cash, breathe even more deeply  while cashier, an elderly Russian with Sergei on his name tag, took all day to count out the change because he was clearly breathing very deeply or not at all.  Then, after finally getting the said bag of plastic glasses, stepping out from the store into a blast of arctic air and slicing wind that actually took the breath away.

So, I arrived with the glasses to discover that the technical difficulties had been solved by the heroic appearance of Martin and that the glasses we’d thought were lost were actually at the front of the room beside the projector rather than at the back by the drinks table.  But never mind, deep breathing is a very salutary practice and the difficulties we faced—a projector that wouldn’t work, missing cups, Sergei counting pennies as if they were gold, and blizzard conditions—none got in the way of a great time!  So nice to see friends, to meet new people and even to raise some money for the Arts Center.  And to launch Allan’s wonderful book.

This is a long way of saying, that with so much going on, I forgot to take pictures.  Next time.

One final note—I go again today to my tech man at Apple to work on switching this blog to my main website.  It’s possible the whole thing will disappear for a few days this week or next but it will be back.  Same address.  It’s more than possible, indeed a fact, that all the old posts here will disappear.  But we move on—as we must.  A good opportunity, among many, to practice letting go.  C’est la vie.

Just back from my meeting with the Apple man—two steps forward, one back. I’ve made my site too wide so that it can’t be seen properly by people with smaller monitors, so back to the drawing board to change everything. I had so many questions and this lovely young man could hardly keep up. He was awfully good and tried really hard not to knit his brows together but I couldn’t help but see his eyes glaze over a couple of times. He actually had to get his supervisor at one point. The thing is that when you move to something that really is simple like iWeb you do lose a few functions that are not available to Mac. Then, on the other hand, you gain all of the ease of use etc. It’s a bit of a toss-up because you get used to one thing then have to get used to another. But I will forge on.

I could just leave my blog thing here as is and do my art site separately as I have already but it would be cool to have the whole thing in one place because I want the art site to change as I do new things and to keep it vital. And I really would like to be able to bung things up on the blog in a second or two without fuss which is how it will be on iWeb though I can’t file things in Categories like I can here.

At any rate, in the grand scheme, these are just little crumbs of concern…not to be chewed on, just swallowed. It’s a learning curve and I’m still putting one foot in front of another. Monday, I have another meeting and, with luck, the new site will get up next week. But now, back to the digital drawing board!

Isn’t it crazy? Just when I decide to redesign my site and take the blog to iWeb this Wordpress site goes wonky. The whole type face has changed and I haven’t even touched it! Think the message is clear—I’m doing the right thing. This is too complicated for a girl like me.

Moving right along. The new site looks good. I’m keeping it very simple but it’s great to see all my work in one place and to ponder the trajectory. Thursday I go to meet my Apple man who will advise on lingering technicalities and, with luck, we can switch the new site on then and there. I really look forward to having this be easier so the focus can be more on the work and the trajectory.

Anyway, thanks for your patience and please forgive the wonky type…not worth fixing at this point. New site will still be Artwala Road.

Earlier this week I got a new computer. Turns out the cheapest iMac is absolutely fantastic and just what I need right now. I loved my Mac Mini and it’s still going strong after two years so have passed it on to Allan. One of the reasons we got this new one is to do web design now that we both need new sites. Allan has another excellent site but the new book, Stories We Need To Know, makes a new site necessary and it will be great to have the ability to update as we go along. The iMac comes with a program called iWeb and I spent the whole of yesterday working on Allan’s new site and teaching myself the program, which is not hard. Again, thanks to Apple, it’s all so brilliantly designed and easy to use.

Two years ago when I started Artwala Road I found everything techy scarifying. I had NO idea how to do anything and without the help of my dear friend,Kelly I simply wouldn’t have done it. I wasn’t convinced I needed a blog. I’m not selling anything on the site, not yet anyway, don’t have the time to read a lot of blogs and have no ambition to be a super-blogger. But I liked the idea of recording my explorations and sharing them with anyone who happens upon the site and finds them interesting or useful.

What has happened since then is this. First, I became conversant in very basic techie things and now feel empowered to do more. I see the website as a great means of communication, of free sharing, and I think that’s cool—so open and generous. It’s been a nice way of putting some words out into the world and trusting they will reach whoever might like them. I do so much writing and not much in the way yet of putting it out into the world so the blog’s been great that way. I’ve found a few blog friends, very nice, and enjoy visiting other artist/writer blogs from time to time. It’s given me ideas about what other people are exploring. And, maybe best of all, it’s brought friends, old and new, in for visits. Most of my friends, ahem, don’t comment but it’s nice they tell me they stop in to see how the art class is progressing. A big thanks to those who do comment!! I love to hear from you.

There are times I wonder, with readership small and no time to boost it up, whether the blog is worth the while. It looks like 16,504 people have visited so far but most don’t stay. I think we always meet who we need to meet so that’s just fine. So even though I’m writing for just myself and a few wondrous regulars I know too that some soul might stop in one day and another good connection will be made. That’s what happens. I also know that I’m recording the journey of our amazing art class which is the journey to our creative selves and worth recording. BUT, now to the point, I now see that I can do this blog in an easier, more efficient way on this amazing new computer using iWeb.

Not to get techy, because I really don’t know enough to, but yesterday, doing Allan’s site, I learned so much. I see that doing a blog in iWeb will be so much easier because I can just drag and drop pictures into the site and also change typefaces and fiddle around with updating the site on a regular basis as I launch various projects. This is exciting. To me, at least! I think a live website, where new work gets shown on a regular basis, makes it fun for visitors to return and helps build that community of people who share interests. So, Artwala Road will be a whole new site. Same address though, not to worry. And Deep Dish Art will be folded into Artwala. Everything in one place, for now anyway.

The other thing about doing a website myself is that I can play with the design and get it just right—for the moment! Stay tuned. Allan’s new site should be up next week, followed by mine.

And one final marginally-related note—I watched the Democratic debate last night between Hillary and Barack. Wow—to both of them and thanks to the Heavens that we have TWO great possibilities. I was knocked out by Hillary, I have to say. She’s just a tad older than I am and I know where we all came from. That she’s kept on her path without wavering and overcome formidable obstacles makes me believe that she has the strength of character to be a brilliant President. And I have to say I feel a real tingling in the gut to think that a woman just might succeed. It’s hard to put words to the feelings—awe and gratitude and relief! The connection to the rest of this blog? Onwards!

Yesterday we held Le Salon des Refusés at the Arsenal Center for the Arts in Watertown, a stone’s throw from Boston and Cambridge. And, hooray, it was a great success! When we first set up it felt a bit lonely and we wondered if anyone would come. It was so informal—we had no idea even how many artists would show. But show they did! And so did the crowd—much to our amazement.

About thirteen artists hung their work in the space of an hour before we opened the doors to the public. The next two hours—a steady stream of people, friends, people popping in from the theater next door at intermission, fellow artists. I think we had well over one hundred people. It gave us the idea to do an informal show like this every once in a while. It took minimal effort—we cleared the space out the day before, bought some wine and cheese and hung the art. Of course, the space is great!

Someone else said to me—This is theater! It was a fabulous collision of people and energies, chance meetings, inspiration, a look at art and art talk. Just seeing what other people are doing gives us ideas. One friend was showing work for the first time—a real thrill. It’s always great to see friends who’ve taken time out of their Sunday to show up. And thanks to those who were there in spirit! No one sold work but that was not the point. We stirred the energy and that’s a good thing.

As for the art? Splendid, splendid! We’re so beyond judgment—an art in itself! So there! Edouard Manet would be proud, I’m quite sure. And we made sure of this by putting up a poster of Le Dejeuner sur L’herbes. Le Salon is, after all, a tribute to him as well as to ourselves. Let’s just say he’s our inspiration and though our efforts were not so radical as his or so serious—we are marching forward with heads high!

Allan got a chance to hand out flyers for his book,Stories We Need To Know, and to announce his book launch party which will take place in the same space. It also gave us a chance to show the center to friends who came over from Cambridge and other towns around.

Every once in a while I get an odd rush of blood to the head and glance into my spam folder. I know where to go for fun—

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We sent out the announcement for Le Salon des Refusés II last week to both the artists and the public. It will be held at the Arsenal Center for the Arts in Watertown, MA this Sunday, the 20th, to show the work of artists rejected from the Members Show last November. We artists are always vulnerable to criticism and it seemed like all who entered a show like this ought to be honored in some way—hence this alternate show. The good news is that the Center made a decision that a members show ought to include one piece from every artist who enters. I’m truly happy with that decision. Now we can celebrate the journey of making art. It’s all good.

The first Salon des Refusés was in 1863 in Paris. When the great French painter Edouard Manet was rejected from the annual Paris Salon exhibition of ‘official’ painting he took his entry, ‘Le Déjeuner sur L’herbes,’ and created another venue. His painting sparked both an artistic and a cultural revolution. It was radical then to show a picnic in the woods with the women unclothed. It was also radical to make a painting that appeared unfinished, one of the nudes just sketched as if the painter were imagining a possibility rather than painting a reality—which is just as it was. French society at that time was rigid with conformity and propriety, denying all sensual and erotic expression. It would still be odd to happen upon such a picnic.

It’s curious that even now Manet is radical. His painting ‘Olympia’ is actually of a naked woman, a prostitute, in fact, in the setting of an affluent Parisian home of the time complete with servant. It was painted like an official portrait of a wealthy woman but without the clothes. Cheeky. But it’s more cheeky still that Olympia is entirely self-satisfied and looks out at us with an air of utter confidence in who she is. I don’t think Manet was painting the reality of the prostitute’s life or even trying to suggest that. But I think he was trying to honor who she truly was as a person, her sensuality and seductiveness even her cheek, and accept her without judgment. That remains a truly radical perspective.

I made a pilgrimage to the Musée D’Orsay in Paris some years ago with my son who was fourteen to see that painting. We wandered around and around and couldn’t find it. I was going to give up but Nick insisted we find it. So glad he did. It’s radiates good energy.

Which brings me back to our Salon. There will be no Olympias, I’m sure, but who knows what lurks! I’m approaching our Salon and my own work in it with the same radical acceptance Manet brought to Olympia. We’ll toast Manet—and each other.

Should be a fun party even though at this point we have no idea how many people will come!

On Saturday the Saturday morning drawing class begins again….

My friend Maureen and I went to an exhibit at the Pierre Ménard Gallery in Cambridge the other day based on the book The Writer’s Brush. The gallery, in an ancient house on Arrow Street not far from Harvard Yard, had just two smallish rooms and a basement space and the paintings, all by writers, lined the walls ceiling to floor. It was great to see such a mishmash of work and by so many authors—e e cummings, Sylvia Plath (who did the painting you see here), Borges, Gunter Grass, Victor Hugo, Maurice Sendak, Patti Smith. A very eclectic group and the paintings ranged from inept to brilliantly executed. Gunther Grass had a strong, clear hand, for one. I loved e e cummings best—his paintings of both men and women were full of eroticism and humor. They had more than a faint hint of the amateur but it lent the paintings a charm that cannot be designed. All the work felt like artifacts of fine adventurous lives. There is something fantastic about seeing the actual hand of a writer whose work you’ve loved.

What amazed me was just how many writers paint. I’ve always felt powerfully drawn to both writing and art and have practiced both all my life. Writing is where my true energy is now but there is still the need to make art. They are different muses—I can hardly say how though one is linear and narrative obviously, the other tactile. They are different ways of playing, like we experience in different friendships. But one is as necessary as the other.  This show really made me aware of how wondrous the whole range of personal expression is—not just writing and art, but mastery and ineptitude too.  There’s no need to judge or place things in a hierarchy of good and bad it seems to me.  Everything that spills from the human hand holds some kind of magic in it.  Sometimes it’s the small inept work that touches us more than we know.  A tiny line drawing of a tiger from Victor Hugo, for instance.
This whole crowded mishmash of an exhibit, with the prices typed on peel-off labels stuck onto the wall, half askew, and a few missing, made me think this is how we ought to see art—in a casual way, like it’s part of everyday life and not a precious, ghastly serious thing. By the way—some of the prices for this everyday art were in the stratosphere—$25,000 and more. May we who feel compelled to draw and paint live long!