ESPERAR for December

What better way to start the final month of the year, as we look ahead to 2012, than with this inspiring tattoo story from K. The organization that she now works for is one I've long-admired, too, and it took remarkable courage and optimism to make the leap.

In January 2010, at age 36, I decided that within the year, I would leave the very good and very well-paid job I’d held for six years to do something that felt more personally satisfying. That spring, I received an offer for a position with a non-profit I’d long admired. I had to first figure out if I could actually live on the salary they offered (two-thirds less than my current salary) and if making this move would compromise the career I’d worked hard to build over ten years. I was also in a nine-month-old relationship with a man I loved, hoping that we would move in together and then move our lives forward together. (I was, of course, very aware of my age and wanting to be able to have a child, while trying to give the relationship room to develop at a natural pace.) My boyfriend was not yet ready to move in together and while I knew that he loved me and I had faith in our relationship, it was hard not to worry, given the new professional and financial pressure this job change would bring.

I spent a lot of time worrying -- Was I making the right move professionally? Would I be able to survive on two-thirds of my income? What if my relationship didn’t work out? Was I making myself too dependent on a man who hadn’t yet made a full commitment to me and us? I knew that worrying was not going to help and that I needed to follow my desire to find more personally fulfilling and gratifying work and have faith in my relationship and in my ability to make everything work, regardless of what happened. In trying to calm myself, I often thought of the Spanish word “esperar” which has an amazing (and seemingly contradictory) set of meanings: to wait; to hope; and to expect. I found peace in the idea that, rather than worry, I could instead wait, hope and expect that the things I wanted would happen. I had to be patient, yes, but I could be patient while also hoping and, on some deeper level, knowing that the things that I wanted (a fulfilling job and relationship) would, in time, be mine.

I finally made the leap and accepted the job offer. I had seen and loved Mara’s work and reached out to her. She was able to turn around my request in very short order and on the first Monday of my two week break between jobs, I got the tattoo done by the very talented Bart Bingham at New York Adorned.

It is almost a year from my initial vow that I would leave my old job and I am seven months into a job working for an organization that does amazing things for some of the most desperate among us, and three months in to living with the most loving, generous and kind partner I could have imagined. It was all worth waiting and hoping for and I am glad that I knew enough to expect that all this could be mine.


Let's re-read that last line, shall we, and make it a motto for December, this very "esperar-y" month.

TAKES

TAKES - 5 minute trailer from Nichole Canuso on Vimeo.

Last year I had the real privilege of seeing Takes, a dance performance created by the gifted Nichole Canuso. Throughout, the audience is able to walk around the box, and see the dancers' movements from every angle. And each side, to my wonder, can feel like a totally different experience. There are some hauntingly poetic moments. Nichole and Dito are coming to New York in early January. Go, go!

 

FESTINA LENTE

The other night I was reading Italo Calvino's Six Memos for the Next Millennium (thank you, Alvin) and came across mention of emblems created to illustrate the Latin axiom "Festina lente" or, "hurry slowly" which sums up what I endeavor to do with my days. Calvino mentions the illustrations of Paolo Giovio, who represented the idea with a butterfly and a crab. A bit of searching came up with some other juxtapositions: dolphin + anchor, sail + turtle, rabbit + snail. 

LE WEEK(END)

What a week! Did you have a fantastic Thanksgiving holiday? I spent mine making an east coast circuit, from brisk walks and bouillabaisse in Boston; to a cozy night in Middletown with three absurdly cute dogs (Georgie picture above), Julia Child's brioche pecan sticky buns, and holiday decor with feathers and shells as only Wendy can do; to western Connecticut for Wii DanceDanceRevolution2 by the lake, Karen's Ridiculous Feast of Abundance (where guests beg for mercy around the cheese course), and then back to LA. These illustrations by my mother-in-law were one of my favorite finds of the trip. As a senior in high school in 1966, she illustrated drawings of each of her classmates for the yearbook, which appeared on their senior page (along with photos, favorite memories and most embarrassing moments). I love how their messages run across the image, and remind me of Alyson Fox and Olivia Jeffries. That brown ink!

LE WEEKEND

...was a fun mishmash: a hike along Hastain trail in Franklin Canyon Park and the Russian version of The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (Tot samyy Myunkhgauzen), which is strange and delightful (thank you to M + S for hosting a bang up Russian themed party). In the above scene, the baron describes shooting a deer in the head with a cherry pit, and then returning years later to find a cherry tree growing out of its head. And also, I will admit it, Breaking Dawn. Can we talk about how overly-fussy the wedding in the woods was? The uncomfortable shoes, the cocktail dresses, all the satin, sequins and weird wristlet on the train of the dress? By the way: the New York Review of Books recently re-released Charles Simic's  Dime-Store Alchemy: The Art of Joseph Cornell,  which would make a great gift for any poetry/Cornell lover.

FELTRON

Last night I heard artist and designer Nicholas Feltron speak (thank you to Kate Bingaman Burt for turning me on to his work). Feltron is best known for a series of annual reports that illustrate details of his daily life: books read, miles run, photos taken, vegetables eaten, etc (see here). He also started the site Daytum. You will not be surprised to learn that he now works at Facebook.

(That's the question I would have asked had I asked one: "If you didn't work at Facebook, what other company, organization or sector could benefit from your talent?" A student in the back started her question with "Umm...I'm in the sciences, and I think we, and other disciplines, could really use this type of data visualization." And then I wanted to cry thinking about how far the academy has to go to make their work more accessible, meaningful and visually appealing. A friend reports that professors like Shigehisa Kuriyama at Harvard are trying their best to teach creative ways of distilling and presenting information. Hats off for tackling this sisyphean task, which could really use more Feltrons.)

I imagine at every one of his talks, someone asks the obvious question, "Why do you do this and to what end?," as was the case last night. His answer is that he enjoys the process, and quantifying daily life helps him to live more deliberately. But I found this story to be a far more compelling reason:

In 2010, he devoted his annual report to the life of his father, who died that year. Feltron found a rich trove ephemera and records to work with: passports, diaries, receipts, postcards, photos and slides among them (Felt + Wire did a write up here). As you'll see above, he made an atlas of all of the countries and places he could identify that his father visited and lived. He also pieced together his cultural experiences: the movies he went to, books he read, and exhibits he saw. Feltron handed out the report at the memorial service, to his father's dear friends who were in their 70s and 80s. The response was pretty incredible-- to see how a life could be pieced together, visually and statistically interpreted, and presented in a slender volume. The friends' memories were jogged by this clear and beautifully digested information, and the stories started pouring in: "Ah, he traveled to Canada that year for our wedding!," for example. Instead of just being a point on a map, it now had a narrative of someone who was there attached to it. And they were remembering at a memorial, shared with others in time and space.

This, it seems, is a different angle to the "to what end" question: we make choices about solipsistically examining and recording ourselves, or knowing and connecting with someone else. And those choices are how we will be remembered.

LE WEEKEND

We just returned from a glorious holiday weekend to Winthrop, Washington (pop. 349) where we visited my sister-in-law, her husband and my adored nieces at their homestead. There are many things I look forward to about our annual visit: the slow pace of small town life; not opening my computer or having need for money; staying at their beautiful cabin in the woods (you can too!); gathering around the wood stove in the evening; Sarah's delicious homemade meals; hearing about adventures from the smokejumper base; art projects and snuggling and story time and puzzles and monkey bars with the girls, who are growing up in an environment best captured by Laura Ingalls Wilder; walks by the river; the veritable Noah's ark of animals (chickens, ducks, dogs, cats, deer, cows, fish and herons have all made appearances at one time or another); rainbow sunsets; the standard daily outfit that includes both muck boots and a tutu; jumping on the trampoline; the hand painted mural of local mountains on the side of the general store.

One of my favorite parts about our trips out there is learning a heap of new skills and information. This time: thinning out (is that the most delicate way of putting it?) their flock of chickens and ducks for the winter; felling a tree and using a chainsaw for the first time; employing the hydraulic splitter; lessons in stacking firewood; new recipes for apple sauce and oatmeal.

When we were cutting down trees, Daren told me about the disappearing practice of using horses to drag logs out of the forest, instead of diesel trucks that destroy the environment (see the above video). "We've gotten too efficient," says Daren. It many ways, I agree.

KICKSTARTER WEDNESDAY

Often I forget about Kickstarter until one project leads me down the rabbit hole to other worthy projects, as was the case today. I'm grateful that the work I create with Neither Snow for my terrific, visionary clients allows me to support projects like these three, which I backed today. You can too!

THEADORA VAN RUNKLE

I was saddened to read about Theadora van Runkle's death. She designed costumes for Bonnie and Clyde, The Godfather II and Bullitt. The first time I saw Bonnie and Clyde I paused the movie at certain scenes so I could take in Faye's outfits (how amazing is that camisole + necklace + cigarette + hat?). But van Runkle was also responsible for less heralded but equally memorable ensembles that appeared in some films of my youth: Troop Beverly Hills and The Butcher's Wife. Do you remember Shelley Long's cape? And those yellow and white backpacks? And when Demi Moore appears in that adorable white dress...and weren't there weird little shoes too?

Speaking of weird: have you ever found an image and then clicked "Search similar images" in Google? I did so with that photo of the troop in the grasses and those are the images that came up. I love how, for this search at least,  the algorithm seems to be all about color and composition, and not content.

Listening to Serge + Brigitte and thinking of Theadora today.

{Images via Dolceaficionada and Pretty Terrible/Terrible Pretty}

STARLINGS

Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.

This video has been making the rounds, and deservedly so. I was once in a wooden canoe with a camera waiting for a miracle. It's nice to be reminded that, when it comes, it is when you least expect it, and shared with a friend.