BirchLane.org

January

Thursday 31

Relationship Marketing.

Wednesday 30

Yesterday.

"Somewhere in Western Massachusetts," 1/29/02

UNEDITED DRIVING   All day I searched For a photograph Of nothing, in New York State I saw snow melting On the side of the road I pulled the car over and put The camera down To the ground; white Crystals and dirt or sand And later in the west Of Massachusetts I saw A cotton-colored sky A stone in  a stone Wall, a shimmering Golden skin naked A deer dead Along the side of the road And later Another deer Dead A patch of grey A veiled kiss On an ancient evening In an Egyptian tomb Pharoah's daughter reaches Out to a patch of light On a stone wall All she is and touches Turns bright, see Where I stop to look At the moist bark The track of a railway The still green Grass The golden skin naked In this image I imagine All is once and again Black white blue green I find a song by the side Of the road, a paint chip Of one image, it is Nothing, it is Everything.

Tuesday 29

Practice.

BirchLane Vol II No I

Monday 28

Synergy. A photograph of/by a gifted artist makes me think of neorealism.

In 1948 Roberto Rossellini received a letter from a Swedish actress: "Dear Mr. Rossellini, I saw your films Open City and Paisan, and enjoyed them very much. If you need a Swedish actress who speaks English very well, who has not forgotten her German, who is not very understandable in French, and who, in Italian knows only "ti amo" I am ready to come and make a film with you" (Films 17). This is how he met Ingrid Bergman. The next year they made Stromboli terra di dio together. Shot on location on the small Sicilian island, Bergman had to go without the amenities that the actress was used to in America. Since Rossellini enjoyed capturing natural emotions of his actresses by having them improvise, there was no shooting script. Indoor plumbing was non-existent and Bergman was expected to do all of her stunts without a stunt double. Their relationship continued to grow personally and professionally. Next, they made Europa '51 a film which Rossellini shot in 46 days, using less than 16,000 meters of film in order to capture the freshness of his actors. (Aprà 108) In 1953 Rossellini shot Viaggio in Italia, a film which was abhorred in Italy but greatly esteemed in France, especially among the avant-garde crowd. The Italian leftist critics felt shunned since Rossellini's latest films didn't deal with social issues or advocate social reform while the critics on the right were enraged by Rossellini's private life. By this point Bergman had already bore Rossellini a son, an event which alienated his more conservative followers. Rossellini's Solitude Trilogy: A New Realism

Sunday 27

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Saturday 26

"Drive Past," Northampton State Hospital, 2001

''I was surprised by photography, which we all use so massively every day. Suddenly, I saw it in a new way, as a picture that offered me a new view, free of all the conventional criteria I had always associated with art. It had no style, no composition, no judgment. It freed me from personal experience. For the first time, there was nothing to it: it was pure picture. That's why I wanted to have it, to show it -- not use it as a means to painting, but use painting as a means to photography.'' ''My gray monochromes have the same illusionistic implications as my landscapes,'' he insists. ''I want them to be seen as narratives -- even if they are narratives of nothingness. Nothing is something. You might say they are like photographs of nothing.'' --Gerhard Richter

Friday 25

From The Other Side. I must get to see this photography exhibition in New York City, the first ever exhibition of Vietnam War photographs by North Vietnamese photographs, now at ICP. Vo Anh Khanh, who took the dreamlike photograph below of a makeshift operating room in the middle of a mangrove marsh, would lug a bulky Kodak press camera through the thick jungles of the Mekong Delta; and like many of his peers, he mixed photo-chemicals in teacups and developed film in mountain streams, with only the night sky as his darkroom. He would bury his negatives in rice-packed U.S. ammunition cases for protection.

Thursday 24

Inspired. I saw so much today at The Metropolitan Museum of Art; this, this, this, this, and this.

Earthly Bodies. There are some wonderful photos in this exhibition, from his early nudes of lithe and lean, almost boyish,  young women to his later nudes of curvaceous, sumptuous and massive women; all quite beautiful; some seemed to move, to be in motion, due, I think, to the way he had the model rotate/twist her spine--quite a wonderful series. He would shoot these on the floor with the model, 2 or 3 feet away from her.                                                                  

Harry Burton. The MET writes:

Burton's photo of an uncut seal perfectly conveys the conflicting feelings of archeological discovery. On the one hand, excitement, even impatience to see what is behind the sealed doors. On the other hand, hesitation and regret at having to cut the rope that someone so carefully tied and sealed more the thirty-three centuries ago.

Burton writes:

I remember when we were clearing a series of 17th Century Dynasty tombs, which had been infested with white ants. There was one very attractive small wooden statuette...of a girl in one of the tombs, which appeared to be quite sound. I intended to expose a plate for 2 minutes, but after it had been exposed for 1 1/2 minutes the figure suddenly collapsed and nothing reamined but a small heap of dust. I immediately switched off the beam of light, put a cap on the camera, and went off to develop the plate. (The MET concludes by writing: A more dramatic illustration of photography's role in archeaology--or more braodly, in recording the ephemeral reality of the material world we often think permanent--is hard to imagine.)

I see a beautiful screen in the "Graceful Gestures: A Decade of Collecting Japanese Art" exhibition. The screen/painting is an imagined depiction of the Chinese Tang-dynasty poet Li Bo (701–762) and his visit to Mount Omei, in Sichuan Province, South China. His famous poem reads:

The autumn moon is half-round above Omei Mountain; Its pale light falls in and flows with the water of the Pingqiang River. Tonight I leave Qingxi stream for the Three Gorges, And glide down past Yuzhou, thinking of you whom I cannot see.

At the Benjamin Brecknell Turner exhibition quotes on the wall I find of great interest:

Great thoughts stir within me at the sight of ruins. Everything gradually crumbles and vanishes. Only the world remains. Only time endures...I am walking between two eternities. -Diderot

A painter's eye will often be arrested where ordinary people see nothing remarkable. A casual gleam of sunshine, or a shadow thrown across his path, a time-weathered oak, or a moss-covered stone may awaken a train of thoughts and feelings, and picturesque imaginings. -William Henry Fox Talbot

 

Wednesday 23

Concrete Blonde. I read in Spin magazine last night that all three original members of Concrete Blonde have recorded their first album in eight years, "Group Therapy;" so my drive to New York City today was spent listening to their debut album, "Heal It Up."  Listen to samples from "Recollection: The Best of Concrete Blonde" here. I also listened to Thin White Rope, called a "truly great American band" by Trouser Press; Three Mustaphas Three, and Pere Ubu. What a drive.

Tuesday 22

The Red Wheelbarrow. I have been thinking of the poem below by William Carlos Williams all day; don't really know why. Maybe it is because I have been enjoying this person's writing.

so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens.

Monday 21

Pleasant Dreams. "C'mon, Dad," says Daryl. "Put me to bed." (Treasure this moment.) I sit next to him on his bed and he plays music on his CD player for me. "Listen to this," he says. "Guess who it is." I guess correctly; it is System of a Down, a metal/punk group I actually happen to really enjoy--they are different. Then he points the remote control over his head and behind him and leaps from song to song to song saying "What is this, Dad? What is this, Dad? What is this, Dad?" And I say "Cream, The Rolling Stones, Grateful Dead." And he says "Do you know the name of this song?" I don't. "It's China   Cat Sunflower," he says. "I love this song." Pleasant Dreams.

Sunday 20

Last Night and This Morning.

Saturday 19

Follow Your Creative Muse. Interesting article in the February 2002 issue of HOW Magazine about Stefan Sagmeister. It is called "A Year Without Clients......You've dreamed about ditching your customers to follow your creative muse. Stefan Sagmeister actually did it. See how he made it happen and what he did with his time off." (edited excerpt)

Realizing that his work was becoming repetitive, and feeling inspired by experimental design he saw from students, New York City-based designer Stefan Sagmesiter cleared his schedule to undertake a self-described "year without clients." Starting in October 2000, Sagmeister filled his days with free thinking, quick projects and the freedom to pursue concepts detached from the day-to-day strings of running studio. Untetethered from specific projects, Sagmesiter quickly discovered that his days threatened to drift away from him. "In the beginning, I left it completely open. I consciously didn't make any plans, looking forward to this massive amount of free time in front of me," he says. "Then, very quickly--I think a couple of weeks into it--I noticed that all I was doing was chores." Ironically, Sagmeister ended up creating a schedule that was more rigid than his normal studio routine in order to enjoy his free time. "I looked at a list of things I wanted to accomplish, and I made an hourly plan out of them, very much like a school plan or course schedule," Sagmeister says. "I divided them up depending on how important I thought they were and assigned a time slot to them." This led to a schedule that included appointments like "Monday, 10 a.m. to 11 a.m, Free Thinking," or entries like "The Big Idea." "The truth was that without (the schedule), I just did absolutely nothing--or worse, I felt really busy but got nothing done," Sagmesiter says. "With the schedule in place, all the stuff that came from the outside, all the little demands, they just had to wait." Sagmeister was surprised to find that sticking to a strict limit for his creative exercises proved more effective than working over large blocks of time. "I think there are some advantages to time pressure, as much as I hate when I'm in it. Some things you just won't do without pressure," he says.

There is also a nice promotion for Heather's friend Derek and his new book "Design for Community" in the issue (page 24):

As online communities continue to sprout up and grow, so does the importance of Web design and site structure. Does your site's design foster a connective envirnoment for its visitors? Design for Community discusses the pros and cons of adding community features to Web sites, as well as the best ways to implement them. It also offers tips, hints and advice on designing and maintaining successful online communities. In addition, the website for the book serves as an interactive example of the print titles suggestion.

Friday 18

Alaina and Penn. Alaina is working on an original and amazing photography project here.

	BREED Alaina Burri-Stone
Bulfinch Press	BirchLane Press

An article in today's New York Times talks about the new show of Penn's nudes at the MET. And from The New Yorker.

Thursday 17

Art Show. An e-mail from Angi directs me to an exhibiton in New York City. But I am thinking all day about the Neil Welliver show and the power and originality of Alaina's photography.

No-Nonsense Portraits Of Wild, Naked Women by Mario Naves Arrogance isn’t a trait we usually single out for commendation, but in art it has its uses. In the art of Neil Welliver, whose early figurative paintings are the subject of an exhibition at the Alexandre Gallery, arrogance is, if not the work’s defining characteristic, then the engine that powers it. His paintings of beautiful young women immersing themselves in mountain streams are no-nonsense, tersely put into shape. Covering the canvas with an edge-to-edge emphasis, Mr. Welliver’s brush endows every inch of his surfaces with an unyielding pressure. Concomitantly, the pictures have a stubborn physicality. This in-your-face quality accounts for the work’s arrogance, as well as its "abstractness." Yet Mr. Welliver isn’t an abstract painter. His pictures are representational–and sexy, too. Ken Johnson of The New York Times accurately described the women posing in the pictures as having "bodies a Playmate of the Month could envy"–just don’t call them "bunnies." What gives the paintings their erotic charge has something to do with nudity, but just as much–and probably more–with the cool self-possession Mr. Welliver’s subjects exude. These women know their own minds, are confident in their sensuality, and aren’t about to put up with any guff. I doubt Mr. Welliver has much patience for theories that postulate the oppressiveness of "the male gaze." But I like how his pictures play into that nostrum, confirming it from the outside in, and subverting it from the inside out. Not that these are feminist paintings. They’re just very great ones. And if the little voice in the back of my head tells me I overrate them, I’m not going to listen to it. Neither should you. Neil Welliver: Early Figurative Paintings is at Alexandre Gallery, 41 East 57th Street, until Jan. 26.

Wednesday 16

A Discovery in Fort Lee. At my dad's apartment I discover a wonderful book, "The Education of Little Tree," by Forrest Carter.

Grandama said when you come on something good, first thing to do is sharre it with whoever you can find; that way, the good spreads out where no telling it will go. Which is right.

Reviews at Amazon here.

Tuesday 15

The Three-Pointer. I am not sure if there is anything more exciting that watching your daughter score a three-pointer in a decisive basketball game; and then another, and another, and another, and another. Five three-pointers. Team top scorer. Interviewed by radio and TV personalities. Oh, sure, it was exciting to watch and listen to her play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata on a Sunday morning in church and see people brought to tears; and, yes, it was exciting to see her dance in the Nutcracker, but only at a basketball game can you jump up and hoot and holler. And other people jump up and hoot and holler, too. Woohoo. (Newspaper story here,)

Monday 14

Red Sky in Morning.

"Betty," 1988, oil on canvas, 40 1/2 x 28 1/2 inches

From an interview in Art in America (January 2002) with Gerhard Richter:

Q: What was it like to be a young artist in Germany in 1962 or 1963? GR: We swam in a pool of hope. We thought, "We'll just do it." It was not a problem that the others, first the French and then Americans, were selling so well and at such high prices. It was not a topic. We were young, and the older German artists like Nay and Georg Meistermann were not very famous and not much liked. Their works were less expensive, and we felt that was only right because they were stupid. Q: Particularly in th elate '60s and early '70s, the pressure not to paint was even greater in Germany than in the U.S. How did you manage at that time, when so many people were saying that painting was dead? GR: I didn't believe this. But in a sense it was familiar to me, because I knew that culture was at an end, that painting couldn't do very much anymore. And as a German, I was familiar with the idea of not being worth anything. I wasn't worth anything. So painting wasn't worth anything. I wasn't worth anything, and then there were sveral other things that weren't worth anything. But nevertheless I didn't believe that. I believed in painting. Q: Do you see yourself in opposition to modern art in some ways--or modernism, I should say, not modern art. Do you feel yourself in some ways challenged? GR: That's difficult, because the good modern artists, like Carl Andre, Bob Ryman, I like very much. But modern art has always only shown itself to me in trends and blowhards, so I couldn't be a modern artist. (Laughter) There were always powerful movements or groups that today we don't even know anymore. Q: What is the hardest thing about making  a picture? GR: The tough part is always at the end. The beginning is always easier.... Q: But where does the difficulty lie? Does the difficulty lie primarily in what the hand does or in the conception? GR: In the conception. To see what's wrong, this is so difficult. To make it right is easy, but to see what to make and what not to make it harder. Q: How do you know when something is good or bad...? GR: The most important thing, in life and for humanity, is to decide what is good and what is bad. And it's the most difficult. I remember a time when it was out of fashion to judge a painting good. But all my real constructive experiences with people were about good or not good, with Polke, Palermo, Fischer or the sculptor Isa Gensken, who is very strict. "That's ugly, terrible," she'd say. It's very important. Q: And what is the difference between good and beatiful, bad and ugly? GR: It always mean good and bad. I don't know if it is the same in English, but in German, if you say it's a good painting, you already mean it's beautiful; if you say it's a bad painting, you imply also that it's ugly. If we say something is beautiful, then we mean it's good. Q: And do you believe this? GR: Yes. GR: Painting is the only positive thing I have. Even if I see eveything else negatively, at least in the pictures I can communicate some kind of hope. I can at least carry on.

"The Reader," 1994, oil on canvas, 20 x 28 inches

 

Sunday 13

Angel.

From where I am calling you We are singing How the wonders are displayed Where-e'er I turn my eye This is paradise, here When I woke, I saw Snow falling, a gift A Cardinal in the sleeping Flower garden, an orange Cloud, an angel Her hands in prayer Calling Bruce Bruce Are you there In prayer above the perfectly Still blue ocean, mirroring A stormy black sky Our sleepless moments Bringing dreams to life Look the sheets let out a sigh Listen a hymn this morning Is our time to meditate Quiet quiet Listen please listen Do you hear Me calling

Saturday 12

After Billy Collins.

The year is 1977 I am running for my life I don't know, maybe The year is 1974 Peace-keeping forces in Vietnam Kill 33 suspected enemy forces There is a close encounter Say what you will, oh, I Just don't know where to begin Accidents will happen My hair is long , my stomach Flat and here today at Smith College Saturday, January 12, 2002 I am trying to prolong my life The song says something About death and I am writing this in my head Hoping to remember by the time I get home, we've only just begun Oh and at home I know Daryl is listening right now to Can't you Hear Me Knockin' I Feel Free Light My Fire And he will say Mom Do you want to help us and Dad you're making French Fries My Dad makes the best French Fries It is still the age of Aquarious Saturn and its moons are Being built at Birch Lane In the name of science The is only what I think While running on the eliptical machine And many pretty Smith students Are running and my pretty wife runs Too, but I am listening to this Song from 1980 now it is A mirror of the time Maybe it is 1999 I am not sure anymore

Friday 11

Watercolour Essence. In an article in the Christmas Special Issue of The Economist, we meet Bernhard Vogel, one of only two Austrian watercolourists (Gottfried Salzmann is the other) who have found a ready market in London and New York as well as a big following at home in Germany. The Economist reports:

He acknowledges his debt to Salzmann, Kokoschka and Moldovan. He paints highly expressionistic land- and cityscapes, usually on the spot, even if that means sitting on a traffic island in the rain. And he is prolific--some critics say too prolific, with too vivid a use of colour to achieve the transparency that is to valued in watercolour. But all acknowledge that the pictures are arresting.

"I am like a cat, which walks up and down apparently without motive then turns around and around until it sits......trivial details can suddenly become the major theme, the foreground cna disappear in favour of the hinterland, or vice versa."

His most recent work were paintings of the BASF chemical works at Schwarzheide, in eastern Germany, commissioned by the company.

Thursday 10

After Mary Oliver.

On a night in January when it is cold and dark and the air wet and snow has not yet fallen I return home from the city and hear in the pile of decaying leaves behind the woodpile a sound like one I have never heard before two sounds two sounds talking hear squeaking whispering in the leaves I can not see them in the dark light but I walk toward them toward the whispering sounds in the leaves my heart racing my hands warm and wet I walk carefully and I walk slowly toward the sounds in the woods and soon I see two small gray mice twirling around in the leaves and I stand and I watch and the mice stop talking and stop twirling around in the leaves and run toward me and first I feel fear and I don't know why they are god's tiny creations coming toward my feet and I wonder where I should move or should I stay standing watching and wondering why I have never seen them before out here on Birch Lane why I have not heard them talking in the woods at night and I remember what a teacher told me he said to be still in the spirit of the here and now to breathe and to wait to take time to be holy energy and strength from quietness and I marvel at the beauty the small form perfectly doing what it is perfectly designed to do here tonight when it is still cold and dark and wet and still the sound lingers in my heart my soul I go to get Daryl for him to see

Wednesday 09

Responsibility. A teacher said it is not about commitment; it is about responsibility; responsibility to your self. What greater responsibility is there than this? Learn to be comfortable being uncomfortable.

Tuesday 08

The Man from A Peaceable Kingdom. I stepped into the cab and exclaimed "It smells great in here. Are you burning incense?" The cabbie said, "No. I clean the car every day. People want peace when they are in a cab. I keep in clean. If they want to talk, I talk. If they want quiet, I give them quiet. I give them peace." It was a peaceable kingdom here in the cab and he talked and I talked. I told him of the story of about I read in The Economist (Special Christmas Issue, December 22, 2001 -- January 4, 2002); that it interested me because I was when I started college as a curious freshman an  archeology major (I would graduate with a degree in Art History and English):

The oldest surviving recipe in the world is for beer. It can be found on a 3,800-year-old clay tablet, as part of a hymn to Ninkasi, the Sumerian goddess of brewing. Sumerian documents, including the legal code drawn up during the reign of King Hammurabi around 1720BC, show that beer played an important role in Mesopotamian rituals, myths and medical practices. It was drunk by all members of society, from top to bottom, and tavern keepers were expected to abide by strict rules: the penalty for over-charging for example, was drowning. In addition to being at the heart of Mesopotamina culture, beer may even have been the foundation for the whole of western civilization. In the 1950s Jonathan Saurer, and American botanist, suggested that original motivation for domesticating cereal crops (and thus switching from a nomadic to a settled lifestule) might have been to make beer, rather than bread. The question of whether beer or bread came first has been debated ever since. If beer really does underpin western civilization, that would explain its high status in Sumerian culture. The seal of Lady Pu-Abi, queen of the city of Ur around 2600BC, shows hers drinking beer from a cup through a straw; just such a straw, made of gold and lapis lazuli, was found in her tomb, and can be seen today in the British Museum. ......(an) analysis of drinking vessels, found in a tomb in central Turkey thought to be that of King Midas, suggests that beer, wine and mead may have been mixed together in equal quantities to make an early form of cocktail. A similar drink sems to have been adopted by the Minoan civilization of Crete after about 1500BC......six different blends of wine, spices, mead and beer are brewing at this very moment.....(these) findings have also been used by...the Dogfish Head Craft Brewery in Lewes, Delaware, to create a beer called "Midas Touch." ......in addition to recreating a tiny aspect of the past, there is now strong scientific evidence that alcohol, taken in moderation, can help you travel forward in time too, by reducing the risk of heart disease by as much as 40%. Cheers!

Monday 07

Yesterday and Today.

It is 11:30 at night. I have just returned home from walking Daisy. Snow flurries still fall. There is a hush all over BirchLane. A train whistles in the distance. A quiet place tonight. Hush.

Sunday 06

Greeting Card. A woman in church to whom I sent my Christmas card photo of Paradise Pond comes up to me today and says she once was a greeting card buyer for a local store and thinks I ought to try to sell some greeting cards and she will teach what I need to know to get started. (more coming)

Paradise Pond, Smith College, Northampton, Massachusetts

Saturday 05

Expansion. Angela writes and gets me thinking. (much more coming)

Friday 04

Innocence and Despair.  I heard a song ("In My Room") from this album driving home from New York City last year and today I hear it again.

"This is beauty. This is truth. This is music that touches the heart in a way no other music ever has, or ever could." -John Zorn

Thursday 03

A Poem. From this week's The New Yorker, by Linda Gregg:

Elegance   All that is uncared for. Left alone in the stillness in that pure silence married to the stillness of nature. A door off its hinges, shade and shadows in an empty room. Leaks for light. Raw where the tin roof rusted through. The rustle of weeds in their different kinds of air in the mornings, year after year. A pecan tree, and the house made out of mud bricks. Accurate and unexpected beauty, rattling and singing. If not to the sun, then to nothing and to no one.

I agree with Czeslaw Milosz when he says: "I consider Linda Gregg one of the best American poets, and I value the neatness of design in her poems, as well as the energy of each line.

All day I have this song in my mind.

Wednesday 02

Death and Music. A phone call brings sad news; a friend from church died yesterday--a young woman who served on the diaconate with me. Fascinating story in today's New York Times about classical music.

Tuesday 1

Happy New Year. Thank You. May Peace and Love and Prosperity be with you.