Mysterious Mini-Coffeecakes

Mini-Coffee Cakes
And more food photography ... this shot came out pretty good. Although it gives away that I am not the Whiz of the Drizzle. Ah well. Another recipe from The Quick Recipe. These little upside down muffins turned into mini coffee cakes (very clever, Cooks!) are very cute and fun and perfectly sized to serve at bookclub tonight. I tried to think of some appropriate food that would go with a spy novel (Dan Brown's rather hideous but fun Digital Fortress -- don't ask me why we're reading it for bookclub). Mini-coffeecakes are not exactly super mysterious although they do have a hidden stripe of yummy streudel. I suppose I could tell my guests that they have to figure out how I made the "mini coffeecake mold" (bake em in a muffin pan and turn the muffins upside down shhh). That way they will feel like there has been some intrigue to the evening. Ah the bookclub, the new millennium's form of the Bridge Club or the Sewing Circle.

Green Bean Fun!

Green beans with Pickled Red Onion and Tarragon
This is a really good recipe from my new favorite cookbook, The Quick Recipe by the editors of Cooks Illustrated. Have I yet gone into my standard rhapsodies about my love for Cooks? Have they yet checked out my blog and thought, gosh, we should hire this woman to become our new site blogger?

Anyway, this particular cookbook is great because one of the most frequent complaints about CI's recipes is that they are awfully long. Not difficult, mind you, as they are great at explaining things, but they are not meant to be done quickly. But this cookbook is all about quick, but it keeps up the CI quality of the recipes. When I say quality, I mean the best. Because of their obsessive compulsive food testing, pretty much anything I've made from their cookbooks/magazines is the paramount, the creme de la creme, the absolute best version you've ever had of that piece of food. Within reason and of course various caveats, blah blah blah. But definitely worth the price.

Okay, enough product placement (no they aren't paying me). I liked this green bean salad because it was unusual but used items I had around -- red wine vinegar, onions, walnuts, olive oil. You may or may not have the tarragon on hand to top it off. Good stuff.

Fun with the new toy

Hermits no flash, better angle
So here are two pieces of food photography with my fun new toy. I thought this was a pretty neat illustration of a good shot and a bad shot. I'd say I'd rather eat the hermits on the top rather than the ones on the bottom, even though it is the same plate of hermits. We're all a bit spoiled by food photography which makes everything look perfect. But they really aren't -- the only difference between these two shots is that I used a flash in the bad photo (so the shadows and light are harsh) and the angle isn't as much fun as the Martha Stewarty one above. Cool huh? It is so much fun being able to take pictures as I make new recipes. I'm afraid you're going to be subjected to quite a bit of this in the upcoming blog days until I grow tired of playing rockstar food photographer.

Hermits with flash 

Fictional Art

While on my bike ride into work this morning, I was thinking about the difference between painting what is in front of you versus painting something in your imagination. I'm sure that I'm continuing to reveal my ignorance about art, but are there words for this? In literature, we have fiction and non-fiction. In art, there is life painting, or still-life, or landscapes, or representational art, maybe? And then work from the imagination would be abstract art, or maybe expressionist or maybe surrealist?

And I wonder this for personal reasons of course -- the majority of my work would be on the "fictional" side. I don't do much in the way of still-life or life painting or whatever the term is. So when I describe my work to others, I always have a bit of a struggle in describing my subjects. I don't really do much in the way of abstract work, but neither am I looking at something that is sitting in front of me when I choose my subjects.

I'm not really interested in going into the philosophical side of reality vs. the imaginary world and what either of these mean. And of course it would be silly to say that one or the other are more "real" as art, just as non-fiction and fiction writing both demand skill, nuance and imagination.

However, since I am so intersted in the message and meaning of art, I am grappling with the idea of subject matter. I remember a quote that Diego Rivera said in admiration about Frida Kahlo, something to the effect of "I paint what I see, the world outside. Frida paints from her heart." I think this is my ambition.

Bonita update?

A good friend from Pittsburgh (yay for Pittsburgh!) and sortof faithful dillard57 reader (hi TT!) asked for an update on saga of Bonita the Duck, about whom I've written several previous posts. I apologize for the lack of updates. The main problem is not that I've forgotten the little peeper, but I simply haven't seen her in a few weeks. Once or twice I've seen what I thought might be her little gaggle o' geese, but she was not among them. This could mean several things, some good, some not.

1. Neutral: It was the wrong gaggle. They all kinda look alike, and yes, I know they think the same about us, but I can't help it. But this means she may still appear, which is good!
2. Good: Bonita has found her real family and is happily involved with whatever species it is that she is supposed to hang out with. Duck? Goose? Swan? Ostrich? Still a mystery. And I may never know. Goodish but not so much fun for the blog.
3. Bad: Bonita didn't make it. She couldn't keep up with the gaggle, ate too much grass, or decided she just didn't belong. Very sad but real possibility. Bad.

The exciting aspect of #1 is that if I do see her, now I have my handy dandy camera and I can capture nature in all of her weird quirkiness. Hooray for technology!

Pretty flowers

Groovy Bouquet
Okay, last one and I'll stop filling up the blog with nothing but photos. But they are fun, no?

Oooh red currents

Currents from the Farmer's Market. How cool is it that we have currents? If I could figure out what to make with them, I would drop the $4. Suggestions welcome.

Iggy's Booth

Iggy's booth at the Copley Farmer's Market. Rumored to be the home of the best pain au chocolat in Boston. (not the best in the world, but it's a start)

Fancypants Camera has arrived! Yippee!

As promised by Amazon, my very cute little Powershot A300 has arrived. Yippee! I had a great time on my lunch break today at the Copley Farmer's Market taking shots of everything I could before I pressed the wrong button and was unable to take anymore. Oops. Oh well. Anyhow, now we get to try and see if I can actually post any of these new photos. And here it is ... all pretty. Not sure if I can have a blog entry and a photo mixed ... that will be the next challenge.

Doula doula doula

It's a fun word to say even if no one has ever heard of one. In addition to my Kripalu escapade this past weekend, I got my training to be a birth doula, which is someone who assists a mom as she gives birth. I learned all kinds of massage, coping techniques, visualizations and so on that help mothers (and dads) get through the marathon as comfortably and calmly as possible. Pretty cool stuff. So now I'll start my practice ... anyone know anyone who needs a cheap doula?

The workshop was in Shelburne Falls, which was like a Disney Village for Crunchy Adults. Absolutely adorable in all the good and bad senses of the word, full of cute giftie shops with fun magnets and magical magnet crystals, as well as the much cooler McCuskers' grocery store, serving the rather strange but palatable Oat Kreme, a vegan version of soft serve made solely with oats and sugar. And to top it all off, one of the town's best places to eat is a pub serving organic fare. Sheesh.

Yoga Road Trip!

Last week I did a little trip to Kripalu, a hip and groovy yoga center in western Massachusetts. Although I wouldn't call myself a yoga junkie like some (it's worth a visit to that site if you like any of her passions), but I've definitely been getting more into it lately. In previous posts I wrote about the Baron Baptiste classes I visited (aka "sweaty yoga") which were very cool, er, hot, in a blow your mind kind of way. The Kripalu style is much gentler and not all that different from the yoga classes I've taken over the years. The main difference is that you are doing 1.5-2 hour classes two times a day, which is a lot more yoga than I normally do. And I can feel it still, four days later! Youch. But good youch I reckon.

You know you like yoga when you're willing to get up for a 6:30 AM class on a vacation day. But that's how Kripalu kinda works -- it's like boot camp for body nurturers. You wake up ridiculously early for the class, then head off to your incredibly healthy breakfast (brown rice, miso soup and yogurt being the main choices), then off to a workshop that is about some sort of healthy thing (I went to sound healing). Then to Danskinetics at noon, which was even more fun than I expected. Next is excruciatingly healthy lunch -- brown rice again, and a decent veggie pad thai, lots of fresh fruit. Then another workshop, another yoga class, healthy dinner, another workshop and in bed by 9:30. (Yup -- and believe me, you're ready to sleep). Of course, only crazy people like me actually do all of that stuff -- a lot of folks just kick back and stare out the window or go swimming or whatever it is people-who-are-not-me do. But I wanted to see what this place was all about, and I think I did get a good sense of it. And I definitely left with a renewed sense of energy, even if I was pretty much exhausted.

I feel like I have to ruminate for a moment on the food. It was done cafeteria style, and we're all familiar with the smell and vibe of cafeterias, but this cafeteria was different (ie better). They served what would be called "clean food" which means, very basically, that all of it is good for you. No white sugars or flours, very little animal protein or fats, lots of fruits and vegetables and whole grains, mostly organic, locally grown. Anyone who knows me will laugh to hear at my alarm at finding out there was no dessert at any of the meals I attended. But I survived. After eating in that cafeteria for a week and doing all that yoga, I imagine you'd be feeling pretty darn healthy. Which is the point of the place. I'm struggling in trying to figure out what I'm trying to say here ... I guess what happened is I was impressed. This food, prepared "cafeteria style" was tasty and healthy and genuinely felt nourishing. It was a pleasure to go there for a meal and I felt like my body was thanking me for it.

I was wondering if the place would be like a summercamp for grownups, a great big kumbaya with everyone hugging and crying and laughing and howling at the moon. Both happily and sadly, it was not. People were relatively friendly, but I didn't get the sense of being hugely welcomed. Things were low-key, which makes sense for a "retreat" center where some are retreating to get over some big issues. I was also worried about the woo-woo factor, and while I attended workshops that some of my friends would have snorted through, for the most part the instructors and the classes were straightforward and comfortable. And the natural beauty of the area was very impressive.

So, overall, a good visit. I would go back when I'm feeling wealthy again as the place is not cheap. I can't say I would long for it, but I can understand how some people would get a yearning for the place.

New Work Coming Along

I turned the corner on my volcano piece last week, thank goodness. It is all starting to really hang together and fits nicely in the scope of my work. I'm always so surprised when this happens; I'm still not used to how this whole inspiration thing works and I'm working and get stuck and think, well this painting is going to suck but then something happens and zing! It's my new favorite painting. And you know how you read about artists who were "working through" some sort of theme or period or motif that appears over and over again? As I paint, this happens. But I never go into the painting thinking, well gosh, I've been thinking a lot about anatomical hearts lately so I'll do another. If anything, I don't do a heart at all because I figure I had that in the last one. But then after I've gotten into the painting, there it is, an anatomical heart or whatever my thing is. It's really like I have very little conscious choice. Freaky! So I wonder if this is true for other artists. I don't sit around thinking about anatomical hearts, really I don't.

You'd think after nine or ten pieces this process wouldn't come as such a shock anymore but nope, I never see it coming. It is really a very strange experience. I wish I had more artists to talk to about this -- so much of this is so new you can feel a little nutty as you go through the process. I imagine this happens to writers and others as well.

The big exciting news is that I finally joined the digital world -- got myself a cute little Canon Powershot A300. So pretty soon I'll be able to post photos of my work on this blog! Very exciting, at least for me.

But Is It Art?

Every month they put up new work in the galleries on Newbury Street near where I work. I look forward to seeing a glimpse of the Boston art scene, or at least this version of it, and when I can I go to First Fridays I do.

Though oddly untrumpeted, First Fridays are pretty cool. They take place the first Friday and Saturday of each month, when almost all the Newbury Street and South End galleries have receptions from 5-7 PM, and crowds wander from gallery to gallery, sipping wine, checking out the new shows and eyeing each other's reactions and outfits. It's completely free so it's a great way to check out what's happening, at least in the "big" galleries of Boston. Plus free snacks! (Ah, the world is a better place with free snacks. And/or free samples. To tide you over on free snacks 'til then, you can always go here and get a free munchkin and coffee, shhh!)

Now remember, I'm new to this whole art world thing. So the idea of each gallery having its own "personality" is fascinating to me. It makes sense when you think about it -- a gallery owner will have a certain message or style it tends to look for. And each month, I'll see galleries with stuff I am just stunned by, and other galleries with work that I am just plain yawning over. The work in the South End is generally much more intriguing than the work you see on Newbury Street. Not always, but usually. I'm not saying anything radical here -- obviously Newbury Street is going to be more conservative as their base is often tourists or more "mainstream" folks.

Now I certainly have no interest in dogging my fellow artists. Anyone who has managed to get their work in a gallery anywhere, well, I'm proud of 'em. It's hard work to make the stuff in the first place, and then to be willing to hang it on a wall where people are likely to snort and make comments about it, this piece of your soul? Well, it takes guts. So please, this is not a critique.

However, as I am trying to learn more about how art works, when I see a painting of some wooden crates with a large piece of fruit on each of the crates and that is the painting in the window of the gallery facing the street as the prime attraction, well, I'm just kinda baffled. It is beautifully painted, the colors are lovely, it is certainly not Thomas Kincade and that is definitely a compliment. Yet ... but ... apparently there is some category of art that isn't really meant to be anything more than something that looks nice in the living room. Again, this is not a criticism of the artist -- you can paint whatever the heck you want to paint. And a gallery can sell whatever they want, and if people want to buy it, well great! But I guess I'm asking, is it art?

I'm certainly not the first to ask this question. If something is just meant to look nice and compliment the furniture, is that art? Can it only be art if it is Important with a capital I?

I remember coming up with a definition of art a while back: Truth, Beauty and/or a paradigm shift. It's still a pretty good real of thumb. But what is it if it isn't art? I don't think the opposite of art is some sort of insult to the world. But I am perplexed when something is in a gallery window and there isn't any there there ... any thoughts on this appreciated. I'm still learning!

Stuff I've learned so far about Demoiselles

Ok, still working on understanding why Les Demoiselles D'Avignon is such a big deal.  The writer of the catalog does a pretty good job of explaining what's going on.  I'm a little unsure of the ethics of posting a copy of it here on the blog so maybe it's better to just go to the link. 

Here's what I've learned so far:

• The viewer of the painting is brought into the picture as if he or she is actually the subject.  Four of the five women are looking straight at the viewer as if caught in an unguarded moment, while naked in a brothel.  Yikes!  They don't look happy about it. 
• The painting is supposed to represent the encounter of a young med student with the Demoiselles.  Sorta Scrubs-like except more disturbing than funny.   Probably everyone but me already knew this. 
• The painting is part of a period in which both Matisse and Picasso were treating the nude in a new way, one that wasn't about seduction or admiration of the female form.  The women in these paintings are more scary than seductive. 
• The outline of the women on the canvas is like that of a human hand. 

The catalog also goes into detail about Matisse's response to the work, in his painting,  Bathers with a Turtle.  In this work, instead of the subjects confronting the viewer, the viewer joins the the group to look down and respond to the turtle on the ground.  Matisse uses references to classical and mythical works, a continuation in art history as opposed to Picasso's break.

Also found a pretty good Slate article about the show with a slideshow of the paintings, if you want to learn more.  The catalog I've been reading definitely makes Picasso feel like the King with Matisse a kind of a Merlin... but this article has Matisse as the King.  It's a good perspective switch. 

Panofsky's take on my rant

From what I'm reading lately, Meaning in the Visual Arts by Erwin Panofsky (1939), a book recommended by the art professor who wrote the snobby essay:

"The "naive" beholder not only enjoys but also, unconsciously, appraises and interprets the work of art; and no one can blame him [sic etc.] if he does this without caring whether his appraisal and interpretation are right or wrong, and without realizing that his own cultural equipment, such as it is, actually contributes to the object of his experience.

The "naive" beholder differs from the art historian in that the latter is conscious of the situation. [S]He knows that this cultural equipment, such as it is, would not be in harmony with that of people in another land and of a different period. He tries, therefore, to make adjustments by learning as much as he possibly can of the circumstances under which the object of his studies were created. [...] And he will do his best to familiarize himself with the social, religious and philosophical attitudes of other periods and countries, in order to correct his own subjective feeling for content. But when he does all this, his aesthetic perception as such will change accordingly, and will more and more adapt itself to the original "intention" of the works. [...]

As I have said before, no one can be blamed for enjoying works of art "naively" -- for appraising and interpreting them according to his lights and not caring any further. But the humanist will look with suspicion upon what might be called "appreciationism." He who teaches innocent people to understand art without bothering about classical languages, boresome historical methods and dusty old documents, deprives naivete of its charm without correcting its errors."

Hmm.  Okay, I get it.  Although obviously this applies to "foreign" works or to works from long ago (the past is a foreign country, after all), I wonder how responsibility of the "humanist" applies to current work.  I suppose it wouldn't necessarily be different -- in order to get a current piece, there is certainly all kinds of research you can do about it, although you may not have much to work with if the artist isn't well known or available to chat.  And considering the enormous amount of work that is out there, how do you decide which ones to focus upon, to research?  Doesn't that in the end depend on your initial "irrational" subjective response?  

Finally, many folks who have looked on my work have seen something completely different from my "original intention."  When they share this with me and we compare notes, I find myself learning something new about my work and about the person.  I wouldn't say they were "wrong" about my work.  If anything, their interpretation adds to mine.   But I'm one of those goofy subjectivist types probably. 

I'll keep pondering this one.  

Landscape vs. Image

No doubt most of you are much cooler and better informed than I about the Picasso/Matisse show which I never managed to see during visits to NYC. However, I was able to borrow the catalog from my local library (have I yet opined about my love for libraries? Free books for all! What a great, subversive thing).

So here's the biggest idea that has sunk in so far. One of the most fundamental diferences between the two artists is that Picasso was more concerned with the image (to the point that parts of the painting that weren't the subject were often painted quickly and without detail) versus Matisse who was much more meticulous about the whole entire canvas, achieving more of a landscape style, filled with patterns and colors and detail in all areas. Hm. Interesting. I'd have to say my work falls more in the image category.

I'm looking forward to learning why "Les Demoiselles de Avignon" is considered to be the most important painting of the 20th century, whereas Le Bonheur de Vivre by Matisse is considered to be his masterpiece but is not considered to be so revolutionary. More to come.

Sangria Addlement

I've been trying to think clear and interesting thoughts about art, but I fear last night's sangria is interfering with the process.

I went to Tapeo with some co-workers. A very fun restaurant. I love tasting lots of different things, so the whole tapas concept seems to have been designed just for me. Tapeo and Dali, its sister restaurant in Somerville, both make any get-together feel very festive even if you just want a drink. Service is never particularly fast, but both always are friendly, lively places.

Everyone agreed the best item that we tried was the dinner entree, Lomo de Buey a las Frutas, beef tenderloin with dried figs, apricots and prunes in a cream-brandy sauce. Whew. It was like eating beef ice cream and I mean that as a compliment. The sauce was sweet and rich and creamy, a great offset to the intense and fatty beef. Holy cow indeed.

And the food hedonism continues tonight when I go to the Taste of Cambridge Festival as well as some kind of salsa dancing contest. Well, at least I won't be drinking sangria so maybe I'll be able to think tomorrow, just in time for Shakespeare on the Common. Ah Boston. Not such a shabby place to live some weeks.

New template

Nobody panic: I just had to change the template because the other one was being oddly glitchy on me (posts squishing and separating each other). We'll give this one a shot. Stay tuned! Isn't blogging fun?
UPDATE: Back to the old template, and blog is still looking weird (two columns of text, youch). Well, hang in there and hopefully the nice folks at blogger will fix it.
UPDATE: Well, as promised the nice folks at blogspot DID fix it! Thanks! And I went back to the old template. The font is a bit small, so I may fiddle with that at some point. Feedback on how it looks very welcomed!

Breaking News: Dillard Momentarily Stops Navel-Gazing

Believe it or not, in the midst of that outpouring of ridiculous blogging, I had time to watch the movie Surviving Picasso last week.  A pretty good flick.   I was expecting it to be more painful to watch, like the movie Camille Claudel which depressed me for days.  I like movies to have something that makes me glad I watched them, and Francoise Gilot's strength and “survival” of her relationship with Picasso was worth the pain of the horrible relationship.   (Anthony Hopkins does manage to pull this character off, by the way, although it's still hard not to think of him as the stiff British butler in one of my favorite movies.)
 
On the subject of Picasso, what is it about a great artist that pulls us in?  That is probably the easy question.  Charisma, the magical world they inhabit, the presence of genius.  But what is it about a great artist that so often rejects healthy relationships?  Are they only able to maintain a relationship with their own inner world?  Does it threaten that world too much to connect to another’s? 
 
Picasso has never been my favorite artist, although of course his enormous fame and genius require my attention.  However, I never connect to his paintings emotionally the way I do with others – they strike me as impressive intellectually but rather cold. 
 
I plan to continue learning about him.  There’s so much to do!