BirchLane.org

February

Thursday 28

A Fragment of Your Imagination.

Wednesday 27

The Fertile Fields of The Pioneer Valley.

Tuesday 26

A Road Not Too Far Away.

Monday25

In the Woods Behind Birch Lane.

Sunday 24

Black and White in Color in A Presence with Secrets.

Saturday 23

Gallery8.  Thinking of some of the photography I saw last week at the art fair in New York City  that I did like (Mona Kuhn, Linda Connor, Mark Steinmetz, Jack Spencer, Reagan Louie, Dieter Appelt, Karen Halverson, Pavel Banka, Frank Madler), today I started to outline the sales and marketing/business plan for Gallery8: Overview, Market/Demand, Competition, Positioning, Artists, Artist Participation Ongoing in Process (thank you, helena), Printing, Terms/Conditions, Pricing Strategies, Goals/Objectives, Marketing/Advertising Strategies (and how this online gallery relates to printed publication. (more to follow)

Self-Portait with Portrait by Cara Perlman

we don't see things as they are we see things as we are anais nin

Friday 22

Quiet Room and the Annunication.

In her favorite painting
An angel appears not
Before Mary but before
Joseph who kneels in prayer
Her golden wings light and glowing
With beauty, translucent
Fluttering behind her
The angel presses forward
In movement with Joseph
Her left hand holding
A lilly rests on his hands
Her right hand raised
Tenderly resting a moment
Before her snow-white skin
Will come to rest upon
His lips; she points
Heavenward with sensual clarity
It makes one weep, for
Generations, a black ocean
Under a blacker sky
Extends into the depths
Of the painting, through the window
Its surface stirred by tiny ripples
Which reflect the light
Of the rising sun and on the bank
A fisherman casts his net
And on the water where
It is darkest floats
A swann, in Springtime
In a stucco room
Where wisps of smoke
Float, the candles
Vanilla
Honeysuckle
Coconut
We know from our art
History class this is
A primitive religion
A lost art of healing
Sacraments
Performed in illumination
Giving meaning to ancient
Rites and rituals
How do you do it
He seems to say
Did you write it down, the world
Now a lamp beneath their feet
Naked, her wings still
Fluterring, was it a leap
Of faith when she
Appears in this story
In this painting, drenched
In sunlight, a youth
Of indescribeable beauty
Saying "Do not be afraid;"
In February; when the sun
Enters their mystery
Upon the stucco walls
Three framed images
An ancient face
Plastered with beauty,
Mary sits and looks out in another
And ghosts turn
Talk, kiss
In an image so black
And white in flickering light
Where even breath forms
Speaks, you enhale the lifeforce
Into your mouth, drink
Feel it within crawling in
Your skin, another view
Of you within a frame the room
Pierced with light flowing
Through an open window
Light that illuminates a day
Not followed by night but
"Reacheth from one end
"Of the world to the other;"
The angel comes within
A dream, an image of what
Once was secret, behold
God gives, always giving
Moment to moment
Vibrating with
With what, love
Light, love
She seems to be
Always in all ways
Everywhere
Diffused in all
Visible objects
And what is
Invisible
See

Thursday 21

Hope and No Safety.

Wednesday 20

Faith and the Gradient of Wednesday.

(It starts with) One thing/I don't know why "In The End" Linkin Park (an excerpt)

Tuesday 19

This is a Test.

Monday 18

One.

I have abused my power forgive me you mean we actually are all one one one one one one one one --Alanis Morissette

Sunday 17

My Aim Is True.

If my memory serves me well, three concerts that I remember today as incredible experiences were The Clash at Bonds in New York City, Patti Smith at UMASS Amherst, and Elvis Costello at UMASS Amherst. From today's paper, I read:

The second wave of Rhino's wondrous series of Elvis Costello's reissues is highlighted by this 1978 masterpiece, a furious, full-throttle slam of an album that sounds every bit as brilliant and every bit as intense today as it did 24 years ago. The follow-up to the more pop-oriented "My Aim Is True," this was Costello's first full album with The Attractions. The band, powered by keyboardist Steve Nieve on a Vox Continental organ, added punk power to Costello's sound, as heard here on songs such as "Pump It Up," "Radio, Radio," and "No Action." But in contrast to a lot of punk outfits from this era, The Attractions were incredible musicians, and one need go no further than the rhythmically complex "Lipstick Vogue," to hear just how far beyond the fringes they were able to take Costello's meticulously well crafted composition. Like all the albums in the series, "This Year's Model," has been expanded into a double disc, boasting numerous rarities, including a very diferent BBC Radion version of "Stranger in the House," alternate takes of "This Year's Girl" and "(I Don't Want to Go to) Chelsea," and a rough-around-the-edges, live rendition of Ian Dury's "Roadette Song."

Saturday 16

Constantly. Tonight I went to the Massachusetts State High School Wrestling Championship meet.

Friday 15

BirchLane Gallery. After spending a few hours at the Gerald Richter retrospective at MOMA, which I thought was fabulous, I went to a photography exhibition, at which well over 100 galleries displayed work. What I found interesting and disappointing here was the overwhemling number of vintage photographs (Adams, Weston, etc), and few ground-breaking contemporary photographers. Thus, I was inspired and I am working on a new idea.

Thursday 14

Delias. My first customer at my new job is Delias, and I had a perfect appointment today with the company's vice president of production.

Wednesday 13

Lent. When will we talk again? Yes; when? When will I find inspiration? On the train? Looking out the window? Who was it who said this is a place spiritually tainted by words, greed, money? Is it art, craft, or God that gets the squirrel's nest built high in the tree? A gaggle of geese gathers at third base on an otherwise deserted baseball diamond. A path leads through a swamp somewhere. Where? If only I could follow it. Forty days. Forty nights. I will pray. I will give away one thing. I will relive the crucifixion and get nailed to a cross. I will practice self-flagellation. I will have burial rites performed and then have myself sealed alive in a wall at church for the rest of my life. I will confess I stoned a turtle to death in a park when I was a little boy. I have lied. I have cheated. I have stealed. Forgive me. I walk though the valley of the shadow of death. I will fear no evil. You are with me. You comfort me. The train toots toots its way to New York City. I see little graffiti. On this surface write. Forever and ever. I love you. Or she never seems to listen anymore. In certain forbidden places garbage spills out from backyards down toward the train tracks. Maybe it is a prehistoric character trait. A monkey drops a banana peel from the tree top to the forest floor. Here we are already in New Rochelle. I think I know not a solitary person in this town. Wait. I did know someone. A gardener. This is what I need; to dig deep. Deeper. Our temple open for prayer and meditation. What do you need to do? And when will you call again? Yes; when?

Tuesday 12

A Better Day. I could not have had a better day. It was her idea to meet at The Regency Hotel. "There is a small lounge off to the side," she said. I had not seen her for two or three years. She was my best customer--both in terms of volume of printing purchased and depth of trust and mutual respect. Two weeks ago, when I returned home, late, from New York City, there was an e-mail from her.

Hi Bruce- I hope everything is going well with you.  I'm not sure what you are up to these days, but I'd love to hear.  You probably know that I left (the magazine) back in May.  I'm working on a new start up project that is in the very early stages right now, but I'm excited about it, and enjoying working on it.   We are in the process of putting together a prototype issue, and want to have it printed.  It's going to be 128 pages plus covers, perfect bound, and we only want to print about 500-1000 copies.   Most of the magazine printers that I've worked with in the past don't handle quantities that small, so I was wondering if you have any suggestions.  I'm leaving to go away tomorrow for a week.  But I'd love to catch up when I get back.

A kiss--on the cheek--and a hug in the lobby; we find a table in a warm red room that with a few less tables (and a few less older women in young women's clothes) would serve as a fine library/billard room in any mansion. My friend had just returned home to New York City from a ski trip out west and the flush of the fresh mountain air still lingered on her face, which was, I had always thought--eternally youthful, athletic; if I was a painter, she would be.......wait, as George Elliot writes in Middlemarch, a book I am now reading and probably one of the very best books I have ever read:

She is grace itself; she is perfectly lovely and accomplished. That is what a woman ought to be: she ought to produce the effect of exquisite music. (chapter 11)

"Champagne for the lady?" a waiter inquires. "A Manhattan? Cosmopolitan, perhaps?" She answered, "Coffee, please." She told me all about the music magazine start-up for which is writing the business plan and I told her all about my new job and my vision for BirchLane Press. She offered her superb finance and circulation skills to me and said: "Bruce, an important thing to keep in mind is developing a concise editorial statement." I had, in fact, started to jot down a few ideas a week or two ago while outlining a rough business plan; I wrote: An international journal devoted to poularizing young artists--writers, photographers, painters. We soon said out goodbyes and I caught the train back home.

Monday 11

A Gray Day.

Sunday 10

Sonic Boom and Scripture. My soup was a huge hit at the church luncheon today. I made enough to feed 50-60 people and it was all gone within 10-15 minutes. My scripture reading also went well; I love standing up in front of a group of people and reading aloud. I read Exodus 24:12-18, which if chock-full of some wonderful imagery:

The LORD said to Moses, "Come up to me on the mountain, and wait there; and I will give you the tablets of stone, with the law and the commandment, which I have written for their instruction."  So Moses set out with his assistant Joshua, and Moses went up into the mountain of God. To the elders he had said, "Wait here for us, until we come to you again; for Aaron and Hur are with you; whoever has a dispute may go to them." Then Moses went up on the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. The glory of the LORD settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days; on the seventh day he called to Moses out of the cloud. Now the appearance of the glory of the LORD was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel. Moses entered the cloud, and went up on the mountain. Moses was on the mountain for forty days and forty nights.

Reports pour in of shakes, booms, fireballs. Sightings of a fireball in the sky, sonic booms and the ground shaking were reported yesterday afternoon by countless people across New England, from upstate New York to Western Massachusetts to Connecticut, according to police. Massachusetts State Police said they were not able to locate the reported object from their helicopter, which was launched from Westover Air Reserve Base in Chicopee after numerous reports. And state police didn't find anything when they searched the ground after a Montgomery resident saw a fireball land in the woods near his home. But while the object's identity and origin remained a mystery to authorities yesterday, a local astronomy expert said what people saw and heard was likely a meteoroid. Union-News astronomy columnist Patrick Rowan said what people saw and heard was likely a meteor. "The highest likelihood is that it was a rock meteoroid, so that it was bright enough that it could be seen during the day and big enough that a sonic boom is often associated with it," said Rowan, who studied astronomy at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. Because the majority of the Earth's surface is covered with water, most meteors   —   called meteorites once they reach the Earth without being completely vaporized   —   plunge into an ocean and thus are undetected by humans, Rowan said.

As reported in today's Springfield newspaper.

Saturday 09

Cook of the Week. Tonight I made this delicious soup for a church luncheon tomorrow that Diaconate is sponsoring of which I am a member. Years ago, I was featured as The Cook of the Week in the Jersey Journal newspaper for cooking Indian food. (link coming)

Friday 08

Ecyla's Journey. Between running around for a second day in New York City (Sothby's, Christie's, Cooper-Hewitt), I continued a photography project started yesterday.

Thursday 07

Art and Friends. Today I ran around New York City delivering presentation kits for work to the Guggenheim, Whitney, MOMA, and then I had lunch with an old and dear friend.

Wednesday 06

More Relationship Marketing. My appraoch to sales is to be persistent without being a pest. This letter sums up this approach rather well I believe; in fact, a prospect from Christie's called me and said she liked the letter quite a bit, having never received one quite like it.

Tuesday 05

The Way You Look Tonight. I heard this song tonight on the radio and remembered the first time I heard it, years ago in a friend's apartment; he died a few years later of kidney disease.

Someday, When I'm awfully low And the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you And the way you look tonight. Yes, you're lovely With your smile so warm And your cheek so soft. There is nothing for me but to love you Just the way you look tonight. With each word your tenderness grows, Tearing my fear apart. And that smile that wrinkles your nose, Touches my foolish heart. Lovely, Never, never change. Keep that breathless charm. Won't you please arrange it, 'cause I love you Just the way you look tonight-- Just the way you look tonight.

Fred Astaire recorded it in 1936, winning an Oscar for his performance of the song in the film Swing Time. Dorothy Fields wrote the words and Jerome Kern the music. You can  download it here.

Monday 04

Live Connection.

You who are always There

Sunday 03

The Spirit World. Last night my brother had a dinner party for Jonathan Galassi, Publisher and Editor in Chief, of Farrar, Straus & Giroux, who was on campus to give a poetry reading of both his work and his translations of Montale's poems.  I had a wonderful conversation with him about my dreams for BirchLane Press, Alaina's photography, and my desire to publish a quarterly photography/art/culture/poetry magazine along the lines of Aperture or Cabinet, taking the present BirchLane and expanding its vision/distribution.

Saturday 02

We are a single thing. These are the last three words of Eugenio Montale's poem, "Xenia I."  Jonathan Galassi, Chairman of the Academy of American Poets, who I met at my brother's house this evening, sent me his translation of the poem and it can be found here.

Friday 01

Yesterday and Today. I woke up this morning to a misty rain and knew I had to take a photograph of this on my way to work. It is a tobacco field which is across the street from the printing company where I work.

This is taken from another angle:

Where I live shade tobacco is grown and harvested for some of the finest cigars (wrappers). Years ago, I worked on a tobacco farm and wrote a poem about the experience.

Last night I had the good fortune to attend the Laura Letinsky opening at Houk Gallery in New York City.  Although the photographs were different from her last series (objects vs people), they were themeatically similar. I spoke to her about this and she said something like this:

Morning, and Melancholy. The series, she says, "grew fairly organically" out of another series, Venus Inferred. A book of photographs from that series-images she describes as "large and visually lush color photographs of heterosexual couples," including herself and her husband-will be published this fall by the University of Chicago Press. Her work also appears in three group shows this summer, one in New York and two in Chicago, with a solo show from the Morning, and Melancholy project in Chicago this fall. Her Venus Inferred series "is about romance and love," Letinsky says, "trying to deal with the desire for a kind of idealized love story, while recognizing the fact that that's an impossibility." Her new series moves "from the couples to the world that the couples created: the way you try to stage 'home' and what home means to you. And, again, it portrays the wanting of your world to be beautiful but also the kinds of compromises one must make. "I've been wanting to make pictures about the aftermath," Letinsky continues, "the loss of this idealized moment, not in a way that was filled with desperation or disappointment but in a way that also shows, still, a kind of aspiration."