Archive | July, 2012

Tomorrow I begin to make my way back to Paros.  I will fly from New York to Vienna, have a short stopover and continue on to Athens where I will stay Wednesday night.  I’ll take the early morning ferry to Paros on Thursday and be back on the island in time for lunch.  I am looking forward to getting back.  As much as I have enjoyed being here in America I feel relieved to say farewell again.  I have many friends and family connections, roots and so forth but the challenges I face merely frustrate me.  There seems to be little reward.  The best I can do here is nothing.  That, in itself, is a relief since it means that I am able to let those around me do their respective tasks and keep my nose out of the mix.  Growth is apparent, even to me.

Unfortunately I am finding little artistic growth for me here.  The arts community is too catty and cloistered for my tastes and too involved with what is supposedly new, shocking or cutting edge or any its post-modernisitc derivatives.  The weather is also damn cold right now, and breezy.  I want the heat and sun in August, not this rainy, cool pattern.   Yes, things are green and we are lucky to not be living in the Midwest, but I yearn to be back in the heat and dry air of the Aegean, the sea sparking and the cloudless sky boring me with its nondescript toned sunsets. I want the light to bounce off of 3rd century BC marble columns and change my perception of the color ‘white’.   The fall will arrive and clouds will appear, the rains will begin and the island will once again turn green, spattered with the colors of fall flowers against the blue skies and rocky hills outside of town.

Today I take care of my usual pre-travel tasks.  Packing, of course, but also a run to the bank, last minute laundry, checking email addresses, charging mobile phones and double checking that have my passports.  My mother is aware that I am leaving and is sad but also understands that this is the path I must go and that my life, as of now, does not include Ancramdale as it used to.  She is happy that her children are happy, eats well, sleeps well and enjoys her days.  What else is there, really?

JDCM

Blueberry Shortcake, 2012

I had a very relevant post about living on islands, picking blueberries and the tragedy and beauty that surround us in this modern life.  For some reason WordPress didn’t save the text when I uploaded the photo of some blueberry shortcake I made.  In any case, the post is gone with the wind.  At least the picture is still there.

JDCM

It has been almost a week since I arrived back in New York.  I must admit the weather is more of a shock than any of the culture.  I am familiar with American culture, its pros and cons, etc…but my body has become acclimated to the weather on Paros and to me it seems mighty cold.  In reality it is a lovely summer morning with low humidity and promises to reach into the mid-80sF by the afternoon.  In Athens yesterday it was touching 100.  I imagine Paros was just as hot.

My mother’s age-related condition has progressed along a predictable path.  She is still bright and cheery but now has more blank moments, wondering if she has gone on a trip and has just arrived home or needing reassurance that she is at home.  These are easily alleviated worries and she forgets her fretting when reminded that she is indeed home and safe.  She is aware that something is going on with her mind and that, too, comes and goes.  She is very happy that I am here, that all of her children are happy, safe, having fun and doing well.  These parental emotions seem to be the foundation of her world-view.  I feel we are all very fortunate that at this point this is how life is for her: no anger, no paralyzing fear, no childlike tantrums.  I have heard nightmare stories of these events from others in regards to their elderly relatives.  We are lucky to not be experiencing that.  I hope we never do.

PAGE Journal, the literary magazine with which I have been involved, is coming to fruition.  After two years of building the publication from the ground up we are poised to go to press.  As Arts Editor I have had an easier task than some, but in this past week we have had to make some sweeping editorial decisions, both literary and visually, to bring the journal into focus and along a strong and steady beam.   There have been some personnel changes that will still require patience, tact and perhaps even a cold edge.  I feel that the Universe will tackle many of our dilemmas for us and we will be left to sweep up whatever crumbs, if any, remain on the floor.  As it stands, the journal is an excellent example of contemporary literary and visual art from this Northeast Oblong region: The Taconic, Berkshire and Litchfield Hills.  We have photographs, paintings, sketches, poetry, essay and fiction.   There is a short excerpt from R. W. Emerson, which stands as our manifesto, examining the role of the artist in society.  Our journal is inspired by Emerson’s own work with ‘The Dial’ and the transcendental movement in the 1830s.  In our own way we examine the role of the artist  and use the theme of ‘Place’ to guide us for this issue.  What, indeed, is my place as an artist (and a man) in today’s world?  I can become easily disheartened by what I witness and therefore find it easy to turn away from the world at large.  I can enjoy this reaction but in the end it serves me only in small ways.  The role of the artist, as I see it, is to remain a student, learn as much as possible and then bring that to the larger world, or audience.  This is the way the world changes, not by cataclysmic thunder, but through whispered gesture.

Here are a few short bits from Robert Henri:

“The student must look things squarely in the face, know them for what they are worth to him”

“Join no creed, but respect all for the truth that is in them.”

“The battle of human evolution is going on.”

“There must be investigations in all directions.”

“Do not be afraid of new prophets or prophets that may be false.”

“Go in and find out. The future is in your hands.”

JDCM

The flight from Athens to Vienna was painless and two hours.  I am here just overnight so I am staying at the NH Vienna Airport Hotel which is probably identical to hundreds of hotels around the world sitting next to airports.  It is new, polished and posh, outfitted in the latest high-end IKEA furniture and shiny appliances.  I doubt I’ll stay here again.  It’s not my style but it is convenient for my morning flight to JFK.  I’ll probably hang here tonight and read, watch a movie or two, hit the sack and then hit the road.

I have been reading Robert Henri’s ‘The Art Spirit’ and I must say it has cheered me up after a dour Paros exit.  He has many wise words for all those who work in, pursue or endeavor to contemplate the arts.  He speaks of the loneliness of the artist and how it is a necessary thing;  our work can never be fully understood by anyone but ourselves;  the artist’s garret is romantic and perfect on some days and then on others it is dusty, dark and the tiles are falling off the wall;  there will always be great movements in the ‘art world’ and we should not be distracted by all the pomp and show of the charlatans and quacks but rather dig until we find the core of meaning underlying the revolution.  For some reason all this stuff makes me happy.  So be it.  Happiness is where we find it, even here in a cookie-cutter hotel room out by the airport, even here in Weinerville.

JDCM