curiously lost

a journal entry at 2 am

2008-03-18T00:01:00.000-07:00

tonight, i've been making lists.

i take after my mom. when i was little she would stay up very very late at night. for all i know that could have only been 10 o'clock but i have a feeling it was more like midnight. i would always want to stay up late with her but instead she would tuck me into bed. my mom and dad each taking turns reading to me until i couldn't keep my eye lids open any more. and then. to my great demise, i would fall asleep.

i think i was comforted by my mom's night owl-ness. i always knew if monsters woke me up, or my tummy rumbled me into alertness the hallway light would be on. i could crawl out of bed, out into the brightness, and follow the lights. they would always lead me to my mom. sometimes, she was cleaning out the living room closet. other times studying with big big books on the kitchen table. when i told her i wanted to stay up all night with her, she would always look at me and smile and say: tiffany, you would get so so tired if you stayed up all night long. and, this time is my time for myself. when you sleep, then i get all the things done that i need to do just for me.

i should be in bed.

it's nearly 2 am.

but instead, i'm making lists. and the lists are overwhelming. with a smile i think: probably overwhelming because i am so tired.

things to do on tuesday:

-run. (added in after the list was made but put to the top).

-sit. (entered in with some dismay. i repeat to myself: if only i had a routine. sitting is so hard without a routine. i was so good when i had repetition in my life. that was nearly 2 years ago now)

-call ACE muffler and make an appointment to get my muffler changed.

-call tandem and ask about getting my coolant flushed.

-call marine to make plans for wednesday.

-call each of the following people about wednesday drinks downtown....(no wait, that will take hours. how about....)

*send out an email about drinks downtown on monday and send text messages to follow up. (phone calls are so much better. and i have been so out of touch....such is life i suppose.)

-make arrangement to see bike in bucktown in late afternoon.

-call john in seattle about apartment.

-search craigslist again for bike and apartment and art studio.

-look up requirements for goat island again. (i need to compile my portfolio. why is it so hard to focus on that here.)

-get TAXES DONE (before timo arrives!!!! this would be a lame thing to do with him here)

-pack up all the things in the family room. (think small and less!! damn all those art supplies)

things to pick up from dads:

-previous portfolios (slides, videos, hard drives, fire proof box...((that damn box is going to take up sooo much room in my car!)

-book making/drawing papers

-water proof birks

-wall hangings.

-mortar and pestle

-pottery mugs

other items to consider packing:

-lamps? (i could just buy a bunch when i know what kind of apartment i'll have. i wish i knew what kind of apartment i'll have.)

-plants? (will they die in the car in colorado? maybe i could just bring starters)

-bedding

-books.

-PACK UP BOOKS AND ART DVDs.

after all this list making, i got overwhelmed and went into my studio and packed up all my jewelry making supplies.

all i feel like i EVER do is: PACK AND MOVE!!!

but really, when i take a step back, i know that my relationship with packing and moving is bittersweet. i have liked my two years of packing and moving. i have really loved my year of packing and moving around! i have really loved my year of packing and moving. i have met so many people i love. i have experienced places! i curse now. and laugh, hard. i feel like i LIVE!

now, i'm really excited to live in one place, in one neighborhood, in one city, maybe even for one whole year, with one fellow!

i am moving to seattle.

and, going to bed.

good night.

2nd Graders Question the Antarctic

2008-01-08T07:31:00.000-08:00

I got an email from Mary, a 2nd grade classroom teacher from my hometown in Iowa last week. She had been in contact with my mom, curious to know if I would take my brother's previous role of answering her classes questions about Antarctica.

When I got the list of questions, I felt so giddy to answer them. These students curiousity is really exciting! So exciting in fact that I decided to share their questions and my answers with you!

Enjoy.

....................

I feel honored to answer all these great questions:

First let me begin by sharing a photo of myself and telling you where I am in Antartica.

As Mary may have told you, my brother, Tim, has also
been to Antarctica many times, but we both live on stations very far
apart. Tim lived in Palmer Station, a US Research base off the coast
of Chili. Palmer Station is the smallest of the United State's three
stations in Antarctica. Only 35 to 40 people live at Palmer in the
Austral Summer. In order to get to Palmer, Tim would sail on a ship
across very very rough seas for 4 days. Palmer is located on a
peninsula of land which is surround by liquid water year round.

However, I live in McMurdo Station. McMurdo is the US's largest
research station with a population of over 1,000 people in the height
of our Austral Summer.

McMurdo is nearly 2,500 miles from Palmer and
is located off the coast of New Zealand. At the majority of the year
all of the ocean surrounding Antarctica is frozen. In order to get
here, I fly on a huge C-17 Air force Jet that lands out on the frozen
ocean just off station. Our flight is only 5 hours long.

Makiaya: Why are you in Antarctica?

Initially, I came to Antarctica because I wanted an adventure. Very
few people get to come to Antarctica and the photos my brother showed
me were amazing! I am an artist. I studied at the School of the Art
Institute in Chicago. I thought this place would be an artistic
inspiration for me.

But this is my second season here. Last year I came for the
adventure. This year I came for the people here. My community
consists of hundreds of very smart multi-talented adventurers. I can
sit at the dinner table in our galley with a Nobel Peace Prize winner,
a fellow artist who drives fork lifts, a writer who stocks the kitchen shelves and a Harvard scientist studying global warming. All of us have so much fun together.

Another reason that I returned to Antarctica is because my job here pays me very well, and there aren't many places to spent that money. This allows me to save money so that I can travel the world and when I return home to the states I can live and work as an artist for a few months and not have to have a 2nd job. It's a very good situation for me.

Kylie: What do you live in?

I live in a dorm building that looks just like many buildings back in
the states. It is two stories high with white siding and a brown
roof.

In this photo, the row of buildings closest are all dorms.

Inside there a long hallway with blue carpet and many blue
doors. Each blue door is the entry to a bedroom or a bathroom. All
the rooms are very very small with one window, two beds, two
wardrobes, a refrigerator, and a desk. My roommate, Genevieve, and I
also brought lots of decorations for our room. We have a red rug.
Colorful bed covers, photos for our walls, framed pictures of our
families, Christmas lights, and lots of fake plants. Where we live,
no botanical plants can grow. The ground is lava rock and snow. So,
the fake plants remind us of living green things at home! Like Trees!

Her is a (not so great) photo of my room before Genevieve and I hung up poster and put our flowers on our bed stand.

Karissa: What do you eat there?

We eat LOTS of different food here. Most of our food is dried,
frozen, or canned food, like frozen beef, rice and pasta and red
sauce! But the cooks are pretty skilled and can make it tasty.
Sometimes they make Indian food, or Thai curries, or even Mexican.

We also eat some fresh fruits and fresh vegetables which we call
"freshies". Freshies are a cherished food here on the ice and are
shipped to McMurdo from New Zealand. Do you know what kinds of foods
grow in New Zealand. Have you looked at the apple in your
refrigerator. It may have been grown in New Zealand! Lots of fresh
fruits and vegetables that we eat in the states come from New Zealand
and we eat some of those same foods. Personally, I am really excited
when we have fresh papaya. And on Christmas we had MANGOS AND
STRAWBERRIES, those are very very rare down here.

Angelo: How warm does it get there in the summer?

McMurdo is actually very warm here during the summer. When I arrived
in August (that is the end of the winter) it was (with wind chill
included) as cold as -45 below zero! But now, in January, it's often
warmer than it is in IOWA!! Last week it got as warm as 38 degrees!
I love to go for runs outside when the weather is that beautiful.
*grin* And if there is no wind, some folks will go lay outside in
shorts and tee shirts. I think they are crazy, I still need a coat
and hat.

Connor: How thick is the ice?

The frozen ocean ice around McMurdo is very think in certain places.
The thickest part is called the Ross Ice Shelf. It's located 5 miles
off station and remains permanently frozen year round. The Ross Ice
Shelf consists of packed snow and ice that is up to 40 METERS thick!
That is nearly 40 football fields deep and that snow and ice floats on
80 meters of liquid ocean below!

The thinner ice is the ice just off station. During the early months
of our summer (October and November) this ice is only 6 meters thick
but is very strong. Strong enough that a HUGE C17 can land on it.
Amazing huh?

But then in early December this ice quickly starts to
melt and when it does we start to see seals and penguins from the
land.

Then a big Russian Ice Breaker, which will should be arriving
at McMurdo any day now, will break away all the ice and it will be
liquid water with whales. This is a very exciting time of year here.

The ship has not yet arrived on station but here are some photos from last season with the ships in the pier. Last season, the United States Coast Guard also took us out on a ride down the channel. It was amazing. Here are some photos from that too!

Hannah: How cold does it get there?

Well, in the winter it can get very very cold. I just called our
McMurdo Weather observer and they told me that the coldest temperature
in the winter (NOT including wind chill) is -47 degrees F. That cold.
And it's completely dark for a few months too. My room mate is
staying for the winter. I don't know if that appeals to me!

Jessie: Do people ever die on the ships from South America to Antarctica?

You know Jessie, I have to be honest, I don't know. From what my
brother tells me the ships are very very safe and everyone has to take
great per-caution. However, I am sure that accidents do happen and
people get hurt.

Jaycie: What did you have to pack to take with you to go to Antarctica?

When I come to Antarctic I pack many many things. I usually take a
lot of very warm sweaters and long sleeve shirts, long underwear,
jeans, carharts (carharts are part of the wardrobe down here) and a
couple warm hats and scarfs. Oh, and LOTS of socks. I have many many
pairs of warm wool socks. Some with stripes and other with poka dots.
I like socks. And then a couple of nice outfits to wear for holiday
dinners.

I also bring lots of things that you would never expect that I bring
down here. For example, as an artist I make videos and sound pieces
and LOTS of jewelry which I sell at our holiday art sale. So I bring
rolls of sterling wire, pliers, good scissors, nice water colors and
drawing pencils, fancy paper, my computer, a video camera, and a
digital camera. Then I make sure to have good books to read during my
free time. AND, I also like to pack my favorite foods. We only have
one store here and it has very very limited things to buy. They don't
have much dark chocolate which is my favorite, and crystallized
ginger. I like that too!

Then in addition to all of those things, when I reach Christchurch, NZ
the company I work for issues us "Emergency Cold Weather Gear" which I
wear all the time when the weather is really cold.

Here is a photo of me when it's -35 degrees outside. I am geared UP!

Our Emergency Cold Weather gear includes a HUGE big red down jacket, snow pants, big bear claw mittens that go all the way up to my elbows, really heavy big blue boots (they
look like boots you wear on the moon!) and more long underwear and
socks. We come very well prepared and our luggage is HEAVY.

In this photo my friend Susan is sporting our big fury BIG RED hood. It's so cold that her breath is building up as frost on her eye lashes!

Kyra: What do you do for fun in Antarctica?

Well Kyra, we do sooooo many things for fun that I don't even know
where to start. In fact, at McMurdo we have a whole team of 6 people
whose only job is to plan recreational activities.

There are many outdoor hiking trails all around station. All of them
are on very established marked roots and due to safety concerns you
always have to go with a friend. The longest one, Castle Rock Loop, takes 7 hours to
complete.

These are my two friends Jean and Betsy who went with me on one of my recent trips to castle rock.

I like to run some of the shorter trails. The scenery is beautiful! These photos are from two of my favorite trails: Hut Ridge Loop and the Ob Hill Loop.

We also sometimes get very very lucky and get chosen to take snow machines far off flagged routes. On this trip we followed GPS coordinates to get out to a seal research camp. It was sooo much fun.

There are also lots of sports leagues like bowling, volleyball, dodge ball,
basketball, ultimate frisbee and a dart tournament.

We also have classes: ballroom dancing class, swing dancing class,
belly dancing, yoga classes, karate, tai chi, and jewelry making
class.

Then there are annual races: we host a off road bike race, and four
big running events including a 26 mile marathon out on the frozen
ocean.

As an artist my favorite events are the artsy ones: we have an annual
art fair, a contemporary art gathering called the MAAG (McMurdo
Alternative Art Gallery) which I'll be organizing for next weekend.
This season I'm also helping put on the first ever McMurdo Sound Art
Event called Sonic Antarctica: A concert celebrating the diverse
sounds of this lovely place called "the Ice".

And, if that weren't enough activities to choose from we also have
LOTS of music events and parties. We seem to celebrate every event
possible with a costume party with live music. The bands cover a wide
array of genres: bluegrass, rock, folk, blues, Reggie, and even funk.
They are soo much fun.

On New Years eve we have our biggest music event an OUTDOOR music
festival with a chili cook off and 8-10 live bands. This year the
event happen during a big snow storm but that didn't stop people from
dancing. I included some photos for you.

Galley food, an orange moon, and celestial talking

2007-09-24T02:43:00.000-07:00

All in all life down here, on the Ice, has been really sweet. Although, I will admit, those first few hours on the ice were surreal. When I got off the plane, I was giddy with Antarctia. Erebus looming and pluming, the Terra Bus awaiting us. But after 30 seconds in the galley I felt (very very oddly) as if I never left. Everything was known. So many of the same people greeted me with big smiles and familiar embraces, the food tasted the same (it was definitely not better than I remembered), and even the table conversations familiar. It was odd, like being home again, yet in some desolate far off land. Very very odd.

Yet then, at night, it got dark! *grin* The one continual day that I knew Antarctia to embrace broke open to reveal saturated black. I love the darkness down here! I love it.

The darkness feels special, and Winfly weather is wild. We've had some of the most beautiful sunsets and sunrises, some full on crazy Condition 2 (should be 1) storms! Last month, I also watched the lunar eclipse and as a group of us gathered up by the start of the Castle Rock Loop Trail. Dressed in what felt like a dozen layers, with our heads gazing toward the sky, we were all visited by a celestial god!

Photo by unknown artist

Aurora are AMAZING! I've seen them before, only once or twice as a child in Iowa, but this time was absolutely phenomenal. We laid on the ground and watched the white on the horizon grow to fill the whole sky with dancing green. Then the green swirled into pink and bright turquoise. The clouds opened and the stars sparkled above. Blue and green wisps dancing among bright twinkles everywhere. To the north, the moon shown orange. It was awe striking!

Photos by Erik Kawasaki

I am one of the luckiest women in the world!

Intermediary

2007-09-22T21:35:00.000-07:00

In between June 23rd and September 22nd....I continued to write to all of you.

The problem is I have many ambitions. *grin* (I definitely haven't failed to post out of lazyness!) My postings are handwritten in my journal, and the photos in my library. At present I'm working to transcribe these onto my computer, match them up with photographs...and proof read them in attempt to catch my miserable spelling before you do (which rarely happens!).

But, in the mean time, I want to get on with telling you about my here and now.

So here is a wee overview to catch you all up to the present. (Don't forget details will come! LOTS OF THEM!)

End of June: After I left Japan, I continued my travels through China. I was based in Beijing, and took a few excursions from here including a stunning trip to the Great Wall in Huang Huay.

July: I traveled (mainly solo) through Thailand and Laos. I hiked through the jungle, lived in tree forts and at a temple, and spent glorious time swimming in Thailand's turquoise waters with J. It was absolutely amazing.

During the end of July I cherished a week with my WHOLE family in Iowa. I love that miraculous week each year!

Photo taken by my Pops, editing done by me.

August: I visited Teeo in Seattle; fell in love with the city and the fellow. Then I spent more cherished time in Iowa AND...

August 18th, I redeployed for Antarctica.

I have a position working in Mac Ops: McMurdo Radio and Communications Operations. I operate High Frequency (HF) and Very High Frequency (VHF) radios and utilize Iridium Satellite telephones to communicate with the South Pole, Scientists and support staff working in remote deep field locations. I also monitor and track flights, making comms with pilots flying helicopters, twin otters, and C130 military planes around the continent.

I love my job and my co-workers.

Down here on the ice August through October is considered Winfly, or Winter Flyover. Three flights are sent down the last week of August to officially end the Antarctic winter and prepare for the Austral summer; I was on the third flight. After these flights we are locked in, no more flights touch the continent until mainbody begins in October. Over the course of 6 weeks the sun very slowly rises, transforming 4 hours of light per day (as it was the first day I arrived) to 24 hours of daylight (as it will be in two short weeks).

Photo by Wade, Pegasus Electrician

The sunsets are phenomenal, the storms fierce, the temperatures frigid and the community cozy.

I am happy here.

Evans Again

2007-09-21T13:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I had one of those days, one of those days that remind me why I love this continent.

I went on a working boondoggle, a flagging trip out to Cape Evans.

Photo by Rob, a Line Soo Chief

Webster Dictionary describes a boondoggle as:
“Work or an activity that is pointless but gives the appearance of having value.”
This cracks me up. I especially find humorous the descriptor: pointless, which transforms the phrase 'working boondoggle' into an absolute oxymoron.

Photo by Erik Kawasaki, Network Engineer

My boondoggle: placing flags every 150 yards on a newly mapped sea ice road. I got out of town, back to Barnes Glacier (where I went on my birthday last year), into the Cape Evans Hut again!

Photo by Erik Kawasaki, Network Engineer

AND I got an amazing workout! Holding a running motorized drill and hopping on and off a snow mobile about 100 times while wearing 10lb boots and 4 layers of heavy clothing can keep the heart rate up! *laughter*

Photo by Erik Kawasaki, Network Engineer

We had contests to see which teams can make straight lines, laughing and poking fun at each other the whole way. Plus the –10 below temps really gave me (and the others) a reason to dance around out in the snow…

I had so much fun.

Why Antarctica?

2007-09-21T13:35:00.000-07:00

There are many, many moments when I wonder why the hell I live in Antarctica. Usually this question follows a meal at the galley (our dinning hall), especially during winfly when the freshies (fresh vegetables and fruit) are at an all time low and my diet restricts me from seven eigths of the meal. Mush only tastes so good for so long.

Why Antarctica? That’s what I ask on a slow day at work, in our over heated building from the late 70’s; i feel like i could be anywhere in industrial america. Or on my walk home when the ambient temperature outside is 28 below and my hair wet from the gym freezes in the short 100 feet. Of all places, why did I pick the most isolated continent on earth? Sometimes, after I phone conversations Teeo, J, or my family I feel like I am 15,000 miles away…and know that I actually am.

But then, there are other days when nearly every second I am grinning ear to ear, giddy as a gallant hero or a 4-year-old full of laughter. All the details of habituated life are cared for, the creatively constructed parties turn me into a dancing machine...and the people make me laugh (hard!). Plus, the adversity of this lifestyle, the challenges that emerge from the climate, the isolation, and the intense social sphere push me to look inside and ask really big questions. Down here, I feel alive, more playful than I have been since I was a roll-y little tike living in Dyersville, Iowa. And strong. I am reminded of why I love traveling, what I love of life, and that…

I love Antarctica.

Languid

2007-06-23T02:04:00.000-07:00

When J described me in Beijing she used the term, languid. This word, just simply the way it feels in my mouth, rolling off my tongue, articulates how relaxed I feel here.

Languid.

In China, I feel flexible. I like the grim. The city's always under construction, always in change. I like the people, breaking all the rules, ironically somehow free in their expressions, very open to us, the foreigners trying desperately to say anything in Mandarin. I like not fretting so much about every penny I spend.

China and Japan are very different from one another. The contrast feels almost intrusive. Japan is an isolated island, developed, rich with tradition, boiling in tradition. China, on the other had, is a massive land. From Beijing, it's boundaries seem so distant, travel time immense, and the change vast.

In Japan, I loved the sereneness, the quietness, the generosity of the people, the saturated etiquette, the gardens, and the onsens. I loved the onsens. (And I love my friends there, which definitely can not be left out!)

But China, china feels so light and pliable. Permeable in comparison. As the dust from the Gobi Desert, and the dirt from construction whirl into the smog, change is literally visible and breathable. Japan in impeccably clean. China doesn't hid its turbulence. It feels absolutely real to me. Like it's flaws are on the outside. I don't feel I can make as many mistakes here. I like that.

In my pocket

2007-06-22T23:00:00.000-07:00

There are two distinct ways I recognize a good book.

#1: I try to save it.

I read a couple pages, or maybe two, or sometimes only half a page and then I shut the book and place it somewhere Safe. I tuck it away in my shoulder bag, or place it on lap just next to my stomach. When I was in Antarctica, a safe spot was usually on my lap. Sitting in the drivers seat of Van 219 or Delta 498 or Ivan, I would snuggle my precious book as close as I could to my stomach, right on top my lined Carhartt overalls, my capilene 4 long johns, and my silk long under ware. (I liked wearing heaps of layers, even when my colleagues insisted that the vans were sooo warm, I persisted. Toasty, I prefer toasty.) Then, I would then gaze out onto the ice shelf deeply enjoying my most recent thought or the feeling that arose in my chest during that last passage. Either that, or I would immediately pick up my journal or a letter writing pad and start what almost always became a long somewhat purposeful rambling of thoughts.

The more I liked a book the longer it took to read and the more letters I wrote.

Right now I am reading, "Eat, Pray, Love". It's one of those books that's so honest it picked a cheesy title. A title that, after having been in Japan, I feel I should probably cover up with a book cover so that I can capture the absolutely enjoyable book away from criticism. I mean, do I really want to reveal my joy when all the Tokyo train passengers are hiding their books from me? Why be that generous, right? But really, I don't care a hoot about what they think...or what the other passengers on this flight to Beijing feel about my book title. I just take a good savory bite and then slide it right underneath my sternum, in between my stomach and the strap of my shoulder bag, and I write.

Which brings me to the second way I know I love a book:

#2: When reading, I get the urge to write with such an intense insatiable force that I absolutely can not finish reading the sentence.

Often, with the best books, the inspiration is so strong that I struggle to ever finish the book. I spend so much time processing, piecing, accumulating, and arranging words (in my mind, on paper, on a napkin, on a slew of very tiny sheets of paper) that months later, when I realize I am only on page 35, I have to laugh. It's my only option.

The first time I became aware of this predicament was months after I began reading Annie Dillard's book Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Some of my friends have complained that her books are overwhelmed with description. I soaked every detail into my bones. In fact, I liked Chapter 2, "On Seeing" so much that I wanted everyone to read it. Or, more importantly, I wanted everyone to see the world with the attention she gave it. So, I photocopied the chapter minimizing the text to 8 pt. font. Then, I cut her words apart. Using scotch tape, I starting attaching the words to overlooked details all throughout my neighborhood. There were thousands. I kept them in a little plastic zip lock and always carried them with me. For two months I put up at least 5 a day. I did it on the sly, when no one was looking, and hardly told anyone about the mission. Not because I was trying to keep it a secret but rather because I didn't realize it was a sort of odd, or sometimes even compulsive thing to do.

My brother always gave me a hard time about Annie Dillard's book, but in a sort of endearing way. He would joke about it in conversation, usually after I proclaimed: "well, I started that book," or "was that book good, I began it but never finished." He was the one who revealed to me that I save books. I never did finish "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek" but I love it.

Which brings me to the other book I am reading now--in between onsens and bike rides, in between sleep and awake, in between planes, and on buses--

39 Microlectures: In Proximity of Performance by Matthew Goulish.

I am sure you may have noticed. I have been quoting that fellow. In fact, I find it so inspiring that in three weeks, reading it for nearly an hour or two a day, I am only on page 33. I keep writing. He keeps reading my thoughts. I wonder how he got to them before I did.

Open to an offering

2007-06-22T11:30:00.000-07:00

"Japan Airlines flight 781 to Beijing is now departing from gate 85. The flight will be delayed 30 minutes. It's new departure time is 11:30am."

I am in Narita International Airport waiting. Waiting and considering generosity.

Japan has been very generous to us. Almost always in unexpected, unpredictable ways. Take the danishes and juice that has been provided for all Japan Airlines passengers who are experiencing a mere 30 minute plane delay. This is surely unexpected. Jules facial expression mimics mine: confused surprise. Such thoughtfulness. Yes, it is dairy laden thoughtfulness, preservative rich and sugar filled thoughtfulness. But never-the-less we would not be considered this way if we were flying with American.

Even more generous (far more generous in fact) were our hosts. Akiko, her family, and Shoko continually went out of their way to share such love! They treated us to, without question, the best meals we ate in all of Japan. Shoko and Akiko, toured us around a day in Tokyo, they came to Kyoto to spend time with us there, and we all met up last night to eat magnificent suchi in this cozy, friendly, contemporary rotating suchi bar. They were some of my favorite memories and made some of my favorite times. I want to go back just to meet more of their families, and see more of the places they love. And I feel I understand Akiko and Shoko in ways that were inexplicable before.

This morning, Akiko, her mom and her dad all awoke at 5:30am to sort out the logistics of our voyage to the airport. J and I assumed, when we went to bed the night before, that we had all the details sorted. Of course, they were ahead of us. Nariko left the house at six, picked up a cab and brought it back to their house. Then Akiko's dad loaded our bags and Akiko hopped in the cab with us. She left for work 2 hours early just to deliver us to the correct gate of the expansive Shubuya train station. Of course, she bought out tickets for us and then entered the platform just to wish us off.

I feel like a truly lucky woman.

"We are now boarding flight 781 to Beijing. All passengers please proceed to gate 85."

Fushimi

2007-06-19T10:50:00.000-07:00

in japanese shinto tradition it is said that by walking under a tori bad spirits within us are dispelled.

tori

tori
tori
tori
tori
tori
tori
tori
tori

tori
tori
tori

tori
tori
tori
tori
tori
tori

"the light is so beautiful"

tori
tori

tori
tori
tori
tori

fushimi is a network of thousands and thousands of toris that climb and weave up a mountain, through woods, past shires, and over looks, continuing on for hours and hours.

tori
tori

tori
tori
tori
tori
tori

"the light is so beautiful"

tori
tori

tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, tori, saffron tori.

Page 33

2007-06-18T01:26:00.000-07:00

J turned 33 today. I feel glorious to celebrate her, especially here on this beautiful day in Nara.

The day proceeding this one was filled with delema. I wanted to go to practice in a temple in Okayama but the timing seemed strained. I deliberated. Given a complicated slew of factors (weariness, rootlessness, and other emotional and negotiated needs) I determined that this moment was not the right one for me to visit Sogenji temple. But, I new I could only make this sacrific if I could have some time to be alone and creative.

Thus, J and I reached a mutual decision to each spend the beginning of the day alone. I started this blog, and wandered about the city a bit. Exploring this, exploring that, writing.

I visited one of the largest wooden structures in Japan,

which housed a huge bronze Buddha.

I walked past herds (and I mean herds) of wild deer that meandered through the streets chasing uniformed school children who were attempting to feed them.

I also ate an absolute amazing Italian Panini at a little cafe (I think too much thrifty street food gave me the incling for a bit of the west)...then indulged in a raspberry fruit smoothy. It was decadent! By chance, J walked in the door just as I was about to order the smoothy; she ordered lunch. We were on the same wavelength that afternoon... Really, it felt like my birthday too!

...............

On J's 33rd birthday, I read page 33 of Matthew Goulishes book, "39 Microlectures", which he published in his 39th year. Goulish wrote:

"To state the problem: What some see as a single moment repeating, others see as a non-repeating series of similar moments."

Again, he sums up my thoughts. On my art practice. On Buddhist practice. He identifies the place I feel root in continual transition. Repetition. Sometimes repetition that is difficult to see as repeating, like the repetition of getting on a bus. Or the repetition of finding a new place to stay each night.

Goulish continues:

"We re-invent the very notion of familiarity."

art is dialog

2007-06-18T00:01:00.000-07:00

"Some words speak of events.
Other words, events make us speak."

-Matthew Goulish

A few weeks ago, Harry, a rockin 17 year old (if i can say so myself), asked to interview me for a research paper he was writing on the lack of art requirements in high school curriculum. I was thrilled. Of course, I answered yes.

The interview was conducted over the phone. I rushed out of the paper studio with two hands full to gills with paper making equipment. I wanted to catch his phone call when my mind was clear. To load my supplies I had parked in a two zone with my flashers on. Feet sopping wet, and hands pruny from my evening submerged in pulp, I caught his call just when I got to the car and left the flashers on the whole hour we talked.

In the proceeding days, I found myself thinking about our conversation quite a lot. I sent him this email three days later. It parallels what I am thinking about now so I decided to share.

A slightly edited version below:

.....

art is dialog
may 9th 2006

hey harry!

as i was considering our conversation, i realized that it maybe
helpful for you to ask your interviewee's to answer these questions:
1.) do you think art is an important part of high school curriculum?
why? 2.) what role do you feel art has in society? 3.) do you think
that high school students should be required to take more art classes.

these questions arose into my mind as i became aware that the thesis
of your paper most likely is that you feel students should be required
to take more art classes in high school. a similar thesis could be
phrased: art is an important and critical skill in contemporary u.s.
culture, and could be utilized to address global, political, economic,
and health issues; requiring more art in high school could be a key
to our nations sustainability and success.

ok, ok, i know, those sound pretty academic but this is where i am coming from:

personally, i believe that art is a powerful skill used to create
cultural change. the sheer act of being creative is a political act.
when people learn to approach life, their work, art or non-art fields
(aka: biology, math, history, economics) from a creative perspective
their results are often more diverse, challenging, and most
importantly, more powerful. i believe that creativity is power. i
use the word power here as a synonym to penetrating/impacting and
specifically note that i do not mean controlling.

last sunday my mom and i when to see the dalai lama speak. when
asked the question: "how do you feel that we should address
terrorism?", he began by identifying the complexity of the situation
that we call "terrorism". he said that as a pacifist he believes that
each aspect of terrorism needs to be very carefully considered. thus
his response to the issue can not easily be generalized. despite this
complexity, however, he felt strongly that dialog was the key to
successful non-violence. to indirectly quote him the dalai lama said,
"we need to teach our children about dialog in schools. we need them
to learn how to talk to one another. when a school shooting, or a
terrorist act occurs and our leaders take violent retribution we need
our children to speak up and say, 'this is not the way to solve
problems, we need to have more dialog'. right now, we have 'school
for the brain', we need have 'school for the heart'."

i feel the dalai lama said it best: we need to have a school for the
heart. i believe art, and teaching art, if really approached
unconventionally (creatively), has the ability to be a school for the
heart with multi-dimensional ramifications. art teaches people how to
creatively problem solve, it teaches forms of expression that can say
more than words, it requires patience in a practice that has no right
answers, it calls for people to ask questions about things they don't
understand, and creates dialog about issues that often come from the
heart. (the student who did all the shootings at virgina tech
college expressed his feelings in his writing classes before he acted
these imaginings out in real life. creativity has power).

i feel that art is especially important to high schoolers because teen
age years are the times when young people are testing out/trying to
decide how to live as an adult. teenagers are experimenting with who
they are. i think you said it best when you described your prom:
awkward and fun. that is exactly what art can be. awkward, fun,
spontaneous, sad,...powerful. to hone creative skills at your age, as
a high school student, teaches students a practice that will be used
for the rest of their lives: creativity, alternative problem
solving, embracing the unfamilar and seeing that as fun.

harry, i could write much much more on this topic but my sheets of
paper are waiting for me in the other room.

you should look for books and articles by a woman named carol becker.
carol is the dean of faculty at the school of the art institute of
chicago and a renowned arts author, and advocate. i read many of her
articles when i was in undergrad and see her thoughts as a great starting point. she
writes about the political ramifications of art (giving examples of
undergraduate student work at SAIC that caused a ruckus in chicago
politics), and often calls upon artist to be cultural enactors. i
believe the article that i had my students read was in a book called:
zones of contention. i'll see if i can find it for you.

best of luck (for both of us).

.....

Ryoan-ji &an iridescent blue bath

2007-06-17T04:59:00.000-07:00

Today, the sun shone so bright. J and I, after our biking high from yesterday decided to bike from our hostel (near Kyoto Station) to Ryoan-Ji Temple. In the blistering sun, slightly uphill for the entire time...it took a 40 minutes.

We had planned to get on the road early. You know, be at the temple by 0830. yeah, right. So we wake up at 7. Well, my alarm went off at 7. I turned it off on the first ring even though I never do that. I just couldn`t bear to wake up our bunk mates again. Last night, I was restless. After our adventuresome onsening, I couldn't fall asleep. J couldn't either, although I didn't know that at the time. We think our awakeness must have been the effects of the erie blue bath from last nights onsen.

Onsen`s are a typical Japanese public bath house. They are amazing!　A tradition here, people stop by after work. Usually they stay open until 11pm. J and I love them. I mean really love them. It`s like spending hours playing the the bath. I haven`t done that since I was 6!

So, last night, we ventured to an onsen near our hostel for a late night dip. The blue bath was very new to us.

When seated in it, my skin looked a wild glowing blue. You know the blue of sea glass before it becomes sea glass, or those beautiful old bottles you can find dusty on the shelves of old antique stores. This bath matched that color exactly. Now, I am adventure-some where onsens are concerned. I want to try everything. Like a kid in a candy store. Only naked with no desire to put anything in my mouth. So, after warming in the natural outdoor hot spring, and testing out the super hot bath with special jets for your ankles, i just walk over to this big blue bath and plopped (as elegantly as an inexperienced westerner can be) into it.

From my seat, I've got jets on my lower back easing the memories of my bad posture and the accumulation of walking all day with a shoulder bag...and jets on my feet. What could be better, right? J however has this sceptical look on her face. She thinks there could be something sketchy about this bath, and although she is a wild card, in this instance she slides in across from me with evident reserve. An old woman sits to my left. After a few moments Jules gets out. Later, she says that her body felt cool but a bit too hot, an odd sensation for sure. *laughter*. I, of course, stayed in for a while.

After bath hopping--from boiling brown tea water, to the seat where water streams onto your head in a single circular stream, to the sauna, to the cooler jet tub, then back to the outdoor mineral spring-- we decide that we have gotten our 370 yen worth (~3$). Last stop the cold bath. Now for all of you experienced onsen-ers out there, you know that a cold bath is not a cool bath but rather like sticking your ass in a mountain stream. So, J, loving anything cold, is already in the cold bath as I slowly enter. Together we chit chat with the woman next to us and then, suddenly, I feel as though I am inhaling menthol. Not just a little, like chewing peppermint Eclipse gum, but more like sniffing an entire bowl of straight wintergreen oil.

I look at J, she looks at me...and I say,

"Do you feel like you are breathing Menthol".

She starts giggling like she has just unexpectedly taken some wild exotic drug. Then, I start giggling. The room is spinning. I swear I am starting a hallucinogenic trip. She looks to me,

"Ti, is the room spinning?"

I look to her, "Wobbling".

We both start giggling again, this time with this look in our eyes reading: this could be bad. With wild excitement in our eyes, and partnered encouragement we pull ourselves out of the bath, onto the edge. We are so hunched over, we are nearly siting on the floor. J looks to me and says laughing:

"This will pass. I can tell it is starting to pass."

Optimistic, I think to myself. Her eyes are still fluttery. But then sure enough it starts to pass. I ease my way over to my plastic stool and tube and shower warm water onto my face. Jules starts asking a woman next to her questions with her hands. She is the sweet woman who earlier reminded J, kindly, not to let her hair touch the water. I hear J say "blue bath", "blue water". The woman gestures wildly. J indicates dizziness with her hands(I love her courage). The woman then says "don't cool too fast."

We still don't know exactly what happened. All I know is that it was a wild ending to such a great adventuresome day. Oh. A great day.

So, to get back on track here...when I laid down in bed, my body was so relaxed. I was tired from the hours and hours on my low rider bicycle with the basket on the front, and all the fresh air in my hair. The smells of gardenias permeated my memories. Luscious green. Japanese bonsais trimmed to a mint. The softness of slipper trodden and well weathered wood temple floors on my feet palms. A clean calm mind. Green tea soft serve ice cream for lunch. A little girl wearing an a frame dress with a ruffle on the bottom, patten leather shoes, and a hop in her wee bitty step. I was her. So giddy and free. All day playing under clouds and cared for places. Places with incredibly long street names!

Waking up at 7 was early. It was really 7:15 before i pulled myself out of bed. and J was up by 7:30. But my, we like slow mornings; we are on vacation right? We ate a quaint little English breakfast of toast with Japanese eggs and sausage. It was 9 before we got our bikes.

The uphill ride in the sun brought sweat to our faces. We still smiled with giddy pleasure, but my face had to breath coolness. The sweat awoke my allergy to sunblock. Itchy. Itchy.

But, oh how gorgeous Royan-ji is. A pond, with meandering rock gardens that change faces, and a temple with a little stream just out of reach. The stream pooled calling us in with our minds. Depth was tactile. The leaves fluttered, the trees on the mountainside breathe. We reveled!

I love Japan.

Juxtaposing answers.

2007-06-15T10:15:00.000-07:00

This is an activity I do regularly.
Ask __# of questions. Then, on a separate paper write __# of answers.
Match them as deemed fit.

June 15, 2007
Sitting on the tall steps in Kyoto Japan.

Q1. Can the home be a temple?
Answer: A bird flutters to chase a moth; a moth flutters directionless for it's life.

Q2: Can new love remain open, growing, and free for 10,000 miles?
Answer: Walk down stairs.

Q3: Can Art remain vital, connected, and critical within a healthy family structure?
Answer: Set up a tripod. See yourself as the picture.

Q4: How can the body remain a sacred vessel and an experimental entity?
Answer: She wears white shoes and sexy jeans.

Q5: What does it mean to be still?
Answer: Turn around and observe.

Q6: What is my enchantment with stillness?
Answer: Re-enact moving through a Japanese Zen Temple as an ant.

Q7: How am I curiously lost?
Answer: Make new legs (that are interchangeable) for your table.

Playful quietness

2007-06-15T02:32:00.000-07:00

I have space to think here.

Without question today was holistically fun. Fun-ness radaiated from every moment. Nanzen-ji Temple by bicycle.

The ride was liberating. Wind in my hair, the freedom to travel where my hands and feet can lead me. And without helmet, I felt like a kid again. I love bicycle friendly places. I loved Nanzen-ji.

There is something about the layout of a Zen temple, the absolute spacial consideration for every object, leaf, and grass that quiets my body-artificially so, some may argue-but today, I found it utterly satisfying.

Balance.

The consideration in these temples is holistic. It seems that every possible angle, for a person of any height, in any state of physical movement-standing, sitting, walking-is carefully regarded. It's profound. The mindfulness involved in preparing this space is palpable. I felt like a special guest, quietly greeted. And yet, totally at home.

As I walked along the the soft wooden floors, barefoot, I was visual satiated. Each minimally equipped room aked me to enter with a clean slate; emptiness made evident my internal activity. I love the room for reflection. I espeically love when rooms are empty at chest level; for me, it quite literally feels (after repeatedly enter empty rooms) that my chest just pours out onto the floor.

There is also a relationship, for me, between these open thoroughly considered meditating rooms and a well curated gallery...or even better, an absolutely empty gallery just before installation.

Transitions (a raised floor, asks us to lift our foot, acknowledging our step).
Quiet (to bow one's head toward the room, it's guests, the floor, and our chest)
Space.

For me this quiet brings about playfulness, the reverence makes me laugh, and the activity of the silent space breaths.

Good morning

2007-06-06T20:49:00.000-07:00

Ohayo gozaimasu.

I started this blog to give myself space. A little personal freedom. Liberation to write to you, my audience as if you are all one, participating in my life as a dear companion, an intimate partner, a lover of sorts. A friend.

The title of this blog originated in teeo's mind. He was looking for a blog name a few years ago. Curiously Lost was one of the titles he liked, but didn`t choose.

When I first heard the phrase, teeo and I were driving from Iowa to Chicago, teeo in the drivers seat. He kept encouraging me to share with you, to make an art practice of my writing. To open myself to the world even during this very transitory time. We were brainstorming on blog titles.

Curiously lost. The combination had tension. I liked the tension. But from the words arose an intense feeling of vulnerability. I felt uncomfortable. We kept brainstorming. I did`t come back to curiously lost until this warm morning, thousands of miles from Iowa and Chicago, home.

Under the influence of our dear friend popo I started using the word curious nearly as often as I say: I, you, or we. I like it. It`s inquisitive, questioning, engaged. Perfect for a traveler or an artist, always exploring. But lost, lost I save for very intimate moments. Vulnerable times when I wonder what the hell I am doing with my life. When I feel directionless, uncertain. In the past year, as grounded as I have felt about my decisions, as sure as I am that my path is holistically where I am, the word lost has unexpectedly emerged from my lips many times. May more times than I would like to admit.

Lost: its poignancy runs very very deep.

Today I am in Japan. Sitting in a serene little park, manicured to build layers of sounds, overgrown with long grasses and trimmed Japanese Maples. I am in the mountains just outside a little town called Nikko. Nikko is Nippon. J sits by my side.

It rained last night. A complete and total torrential down pour, for hours. We laid in our beds early; by 1730 we were curled up watching the mist accumulate in the mountains, building a textured view from our windows. We were perched just above the city, so was the mist. Our futons rested on grass tatami mats. The windows were opened a crack so when the thunder came it shrieked into our cozy little quarters. I hid, under my covers. Processing the absence of clear purpose.

This morning, I feel giddy. I skipped down the street, alone in the sun; my chest felt open. Rain water hung from the tall roadside grasses. I ran my hand along them creating a chilly rainstorm for my fingertips. The skies were clear. Wild daisies drooped up toward the morning light. I felt a hop in my step and a growing grin on my face.

At crossroads we celebrate both the death of one future that we did not choose and the joy of the path we are beginning.

Curiously lost is my starting point and my end goal.
From here I begin.