New Year's Resolution

I'm keeping it simple this year. I've never actually kept good financial records, exercised regularly, or learned a new language anyhow.

Time to roll up my sleeves.

This is the Daily Herald

It's the newspaper for the Dutch side, where we live. It covers international and local news, but it especially brims with stories about Sint Maarten being slated to attain country statuson 10/10/10 rather than be part of the Netherland Antilles.

It is also full of these:

Clarivoyants.

Mediums.

People with supernatural knacks.


Occult Scientists.

This is less than half of those advertising clairvoyant services to those seeking love, fidelity among couples, impotence, come back of affections, sales, power, and setting and removal of spells. Some study the occult, some are men of god. I thought this was paradise, but I didn't know I could come here and solve all my problems by means of spells. There go my New Year's resolutions--I'm hiring Professor Mamadou instead.

Also fun:

Elementary, my dear Times

Theorem: Idea 1 + Idea 2 = Idea 3


1) The Times reports that YBA artist Michael Landy is creating an Art Bin for himself and the general public to throw artwork into as a "monument to creative failure."

+



2) The Times reports that another YBA, Damien Hirst, is the face of the past decade in art. Sic,

"Hirst’s bespectacled mug has dominated the British art scene over the past decade since he led his gang of Goldsmiths-trained artists out of the garret and into the market. ... Even when banking systems crumbled he remained undaunted. When the fuss had died down, his face popped up again. He had gone back to the garret and taken up painting. The only difference was that now he could afford to pay for the heating."

=

3) We throw Hirst in the Art Bin...?

Holiday Movie Rec: The Maiden Heist

It is still the holidays, right? Well, if you are scrounging around for something to do with all your free time before the New Year begins, may I suggest:

Art + Crime + Christopher Walken doing comedy=
The Maiden Heist.

Obviously, I quite like the elements both separately and together. It's a fairly good film, certainly passable holiday entertainment, but you probably won't hear about it because the financing company had a bit of a hiccup and poof went the money for promotion.

The Maiden Heist stars Morgan Freeman, Christopher Walken, William H. Macy, and Marcia Gay Harden in a comedy centered on three museum security guards who devise a plan to steal back their favorite artworks before they are transferred to another museum. It's a labor of love, and the characters get into all the trouble you might expect and then some. It's really worth it just to see Christopher Walken in a snorkel mask at the end. Just a thought if you don't know what to do with yourselves over the break.

Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the land

Santa was checking the chimneys
For tonight he must land.
Some chimneys are square
But some are thin poles
Yet old fat Santa
Must still go down those,
For all over the globe
Each good girl and boy
must receive his presents
and Christmas joy!

Stop Motion Sunrise

Mosquitoes woke me up just in time for the sunrise yesterday. I can't think when the last time I saw one of those was. I expected the sun to rise up in a burst of glory, but instead it came up rather slowly, in a series of moments. So here I played with stop motion animation-- not that the sun needed help from me in rising, but because it gives a better sense of movement and perception. Now I wish I had taken the photos from a fixed point, like a tripod, and taken more of them, but you get the idea.

It's a beautiful and peaceful way to begin the day. I'd like to rouse myself out of bed one morning to see it again, without any prodding little biters helping me along.

Back to the Expected Problems...

The sheet covered all my extremities save for my head-- specifically my now-lumpy forehead. My prophecy of sunburn, hangover, and mosquitoes came 1/3 true. Mosquitoes here are murderous, greedy little suckers.

On the bright side, they woke me up to this:

**Pics on Pinel Island added to the prior post

Pinel Island

Yesterday we went snorkeling on Pinel, an uninhabited stretch of of rock and dune grass about 1000 meters from Saint Martin. It is on the French side, which is why I spelled it Saint Martin (as opposed to Sint Maarten as they do on the Dutch side where we live). Saint Martin/Sint Maarten itself is quite small, and almost overpopulated with its 60,000 inhabitants plus the holiday crowd down here now. So we took a tub of a boat over to another rock for some good snorkeling.

I have done a little snorkeling since we arrived on Saint Maarten, and I love how you can just float on your stomach and watch everything. The grasses waved as if in a breeze and I had seen a few fish. That was enough for me: apply lots of sunscreen to back, lean in, breathe through tube, paddle about. But snorkeling around Pinel was like being in a whole different ocean. It was beautiful, and we lucked out with great visibility. I could see 15-20 feet around me. I was very excited to see the first fish. Then there were three fish. Then I realized I was surrounded by fish on all sides. There were little striped guys, and thin silver ones by the surface, and some glowing electric blue ones. They were unfazed by the big creatures with gangly limbs in their midst. Soon I was seeing tiny schools of fish as well as bottom feeders.

An eco tourist company took over what had been a overpopulated reef, and we rented special snorkels from them. The Snorkels had radios!! You bite down on the mouthpiece, and the sound travels up your teeth and jaw to your ears. The sound was crystal clear. An antenna runs up the tube to get the radio signal. They can even tune them into normal FM radio stations, but they put us on the tour. To the accompaniment of Caribbean music and descriptions of fish and coral in the area, we were off. I was too distracted to pay attention to the recording telling me the fish names, but all the same it was pretty neat.


Everything moved so slowly and gracefully, except probably for me using flippers for the first time. With the music in your ears and so much to see it was like being in a different world. Then we were lucky enough to see a spotted eagle stingray. Once the internet man arrives, bearing civilization on his truck, I will share photos too. As it is, my connection isn't good enough to upload....**

**Connection fixed and I added photos--underwater ones not of my own taking

Theater Notes for New Yorkers: Looking Forward and Back

My head is in two places right now. One hemisphere is still in New York City living my bustling, art-centric life. The other is slowly getting used to the sound of the waves. But before I left, I picked up the mail one last time, and some residual impulse made me take fliers for two upcoming plays that look amazing.

The first is Present Laughter starring Victor Garber, which follows on the heels of the delightful Noel Coward revival the Roundabout Theater put on earlier, Blithe Spirit. Coward is light and his humor translates to contemporary thought instantly. The second is A View From the Bridge, an Arthur Miller play starring Liev Schreiber and Scarlett Johannson at the Cort Theater. I would be very interested to see how Johannson fares on stage.

As you might have noticed, I love the classics. They're classics for a reason, right? I've seen some great classic plays this past Fall in New York. I reviewed the production of Hamlet with Jude Law, and found it adequate, even good, if stringently traditional. I also saw Jude Law's ex-girlfriend Sienna Miller as Miss Julie in Henrik Ibsen's classic After Miss Julie. That is a great production that reset Ibsen's story of class struggle in post-WWII England. The only weakness was, disappointingly, Miller's acting which seemed to lack range on stage. Her character was high-pitched throughout, without any moments of quiet vulnerability that would make a breakdown more plausible. The set and the rest of the cast was excellent, even if her acting kept the ending from coalescing into a true high point.

I was very lucky to see A Streetcar Named Desire the week before I left. Put on BAM by the Sidney Theater Company, this traditional rendition of Tennesee Williams most famous play rose beyond what you might remember of the Marlon Brando film (though you might remember it to be quite good). I will confess, I admired Cate Blachet, who plays Blanche, unduly before the performance. She lived up to my expectations here, even if her Blanche was more muscular and vivid than I generally give the character credit for. I had wanted to give this excellent production its own review, but by now it's short New York run is over and it is not so fresh in my mind.

But let me just say that Liv Ullman, the director of this production, introduces this stellar production by describing Tennessee William’s state as he wrote his most famous play:

While writing, he thought he was dying, but kept on writing and the song he listened to through those weeks was The Ink Spot’s ‘If I Didn’t Care.’

The show opens with the tune and it wafts back periodically, at once reminding us of romance, New Orleans, and the Blues. Cate Blanchett, known better for her film roles such as Elizabeth, might be expected to show more strength than one is used to, but I was equally delighted to see how she handled the brittle side of her nature. Blanchett’s voice ought to be commended highly here—she maintained a beautiful Southern accent without overplaying it, all the while conveying the hysteria and desperation of her character. She is the star of the play, but Joel Edgerton as Stanley and Robin McLeavy as Stella are the supports that make her performance possible. They do so with a naturalness that is charming. Edergton contends with the overwhelming memory of Marlon Brando very well—by not competing with him. His cry of “Stella” is broken rather than resounding to the roof. Aside from the one moment, I did not compare the two.

On the homefront, the boyfriend sweet talked the woman at the internet company, and a technician came out to the apartment this morning. We should be up and running soon.

Near Disaster

You might think, with this as my view, that my biggest problem is sunburn, or hangovers, or perhaps mosquitos. That has not been the case. Since we arrived on Thursday, we have scoured the internet to find high speed internet. The internet at our apartment is slower than dial up. My boyfriend works online, but we couldn't even send an email from our new place.

On Friday, we thought we might have to fly home, or to Brazil, or anywhere so that he could log in to work on Monday morning. On Saturday, we found an internet cafe where he can work--but even it is not fast enough for him to work out of long term. (Not to mention it is a windowless room near the cruise ships.) But then Monday we found out that we could sign up for a faster internet service at the apartment. It takes two weeks, more or less, for the company to install it. So for the moment, we are making due with the internet cafe. And we are staying!

After contemplating running home with our tails between our legs, it feels like we can finally relax a little. There are still little problems--power outages, for example-- but on the whole I feel like I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. It can be difficult enough to adjust to a new place without worrying if you can stay. I know my way around the island now, mainly because when I get lost I just drive forward for an hour and end up back where I started. It's a beautiful place, mountainous and green, with the prettiest beaches I've ever seen. Hopefully soon I will be sunburned, hung over, and covered in bug bites!

Goodbye New York!

This time tomorrow I will be on a plane to St. Maarten. I have to say, the dismally cold and wet weather makes the parting all the sweeter. When I spoke to the real estate agent about it, she complained about the winter weather down there. You know, 85 degrees. She helped my boyfriend and I find an apartment with a view of the ocean.

At this point, I've been living out of a backpack for over a week, staying with various people, and making some very long commutes. I'm ready to leave! Blogging will resume at a normal schedule once I settle in. I have a backlog of things I want to write about, and just haven't had a chance to focus on (or an Internet connection, depending on where I am staying).

One of the things I've been thinking about is the best way to spend all this newfound free time. I want to finish the novel. I want to do some freelance travel writing. But there are so many other things I hope to do--learn how to speak French and play chess. Build a website (I've wanted to make a new home for this blog for a long time). Read Proust and all of Dickens. Try to revive my dying Italian. Scuba dive. Online classes. So many things. If you can think of a good project, send it my way.

But for now, I'm off.

L

Hello St. Maarten!

I never thought I was a girly girl

until I started having to make hard decisions about my toiletries. Honestly, I don't why I have half of these things.

It's a packing day for me. : )

Voodoo Work Magic

I love my little voodoo office man. He's been my cubicle mate for a few years now. He's one of the things I was a little sad to pack up, along with my collection of Chinese Buddha figures. This was my last full week in the office. Next Wednesday is my last day and then I'm off. Rushed as everything has been, I've still had the time to get nostalgic over New York. For example, I took a cab through a McDonald's drive thru last night. How amazing is that? And this morning I can see a water tower with an orange roof against the blue sky. I love being in the city.

That said, I've been itching to travel for the past year. I traveled a lot before settling in New York, and I didn't realize when I took my first job that I really would have only two weeks vacation. With holidays and and family, two weeks goes quickly. Not to mention, one job leads to another... Next thing you know, years of your life have passed. Quitting may be the best thing I've ever done for myself. Being in an unknown place awakens me to my surroundings. It's easier to notice the different patterns of life. New York isn't going anywhere, but this is a great chance for me to explore and write. It sounds incredibly indulgent, but I'm proud of myself--even if my novel is utter crap.

And of course, I won't miss these stacks of papers!

Facade: Richard Wood at the Lever House

I noticed Richard Wood's new work being put up at the Lever House the other night. The artist is covering parts of the exterior with patterned fiberglass panels. The British artist designed William Morris-inspired natural patterns and mock Tudor styles in saturated colors to liven up the facade of the once-sleek, Modernist structure.

Prior to this installation, the Lever House had commissioned Barbara Kruger to cover the walls with her typically graphic slogans. Here we have another design-oriented, saturated, flat approach to taking over the building by covering it in the respective artist's trademark style. It is as if different artists each have their chance to tag the building. Except of course, this is hardly illicit behavior. It is instead commissioned, no doubt for a pretty sum, authorized, and displayed like the status mark it is.

Installation by day- mostly complete

While Kruger's installation got some flack on this blog, at least it said something. A trite, literal something--but it attempted a statement. Wood's installation has no such purpose. It is a design--patterns I would buy an H+M skirt or IKEA tiles in quite happily. I think it is attractive. I cannot think of something more devoid of content.

h

The interest is supposed to lie in playing historical styles against one another. The title of this project, Port Sunlight, is a reference to the history of the building just as his designs refer to the history of architecture. I don't know--do you think that there is anything more to be said about it? If so, you can check out this press release with more details on it.

k

Dimonds Among Spades

The internet has everything in spades, not least of them t shirts and magazines. But these two enterprises came to my attention lately, and I quite like them.

1) kafkacotton

Put your favorite book on your chest, with these literary inspired t-shirts. My friend Brian just started this operation, so kudos to him. The design at left is from Kafka's Metamorphosis, thus the cockroach on his back saying "Oh Bother." I love it, but I'm tore between this and the Alice and Wonderland t shirt.

(Hint hint, nudge nudge, Christmas is coming.)

2) Escape Into Life

This webzine is like culture megalomania at its best. Want poetry, fine art, and general thoughts on creativity and genius? It's here. Not to mention, the site helps artists sell their work through an auction process (which, granted, I don't fully understand.) The people writing for it are the Web 2.0 version of citizen journalists with an interest in the arts, and, full disclosure, I hope to submit something really spiffy to them in future.

So that makes for two great endeavors, completely despite my status as an interested party. Hopefully I'll be able to give both my more thorough attention when I have a permanent residence again. I moved my stuff into storage yesterday morning, and took my few-too-many bags over to a friend's house for the night. You know you've overpacked when you can't carry everything by yourself. I need to edit my luggage down. But luckily I have some really nice friends who I'll be staying with for the week while I tie up a few loose ends, i.e. my job and finding a place to live on St. Maarten.

8 days until I leave!

New Degas Sculptures: Real or Fakes?

The Little Fourteen-Year-Old Dancer

This sculpture is actually a 1922 cast done from a mixed-media sculpture by Degas modeled around 1879–80. It is bronze, but-unusually for the time-included a real bodice, skirt and hair ribbon. This unorthodox use of materials and the realistic manner of sculpting the dance student led to a divided opinion of Degas's work at the time. He was not then known as a sculptor; indeed, he sculpted much as some artists sketch, in order to work out compositional problems rather than create a final artwork.

Degas died in 1917. This cast was made 1922. More than 150 pieces of sculpture were found in his studio, and used in limited series of 20 pieces produced by the Paris foundry of Adrien Hébrard. Given this timeline (more here), it is remarkable that "a complete set of 74 plaster sculptures of dancers, bathers and horses attributed to Edgar Degas" have recently been discovered amounting to what The Times refers to as "either one of the most extraordinary art finds of the past 100 years or one of the most exquisite frauds to be attempted."

You know I love a good art fraud, but this one slipped under my radar, so how pleased was I when the article's author Zoe Blackler emailed me about it yesterday? You can read her story here. The plaster casts pictured above were made, supposedly, during Degas's life from wax models that were found in his apartment at his death. Of course, bronze statues cast from these plaster ones would be worth a huge amount of money, assuming they are genuine. (A separate argument would ask if something cast to replicate a Degas is quite the same as if Degas were alive and part of the process of creation.)

Which is the crux of the thing. The story goes that these plasters were made for a friend and forgotten about, eventually ending up in the storage at the Valsuani Foundry in 1955. Odd for them to end up there, and be discovered now. I vote fakes. But then having read Loot and all about Vermeer forgeries, of course I am suspicious. What do you think?