Summer Travels

Installment Twenty

May 25, 2011

It’s not so hard to believe that it’s been nine months since I wrote anything here. August 24, 2010 was right before this past year of classes started. And what a year it’s been.

I’m sitting here at LaGuardia Airport, last stop in New York before a three-month sojourn that will take me through Chicago, Albuquerque, Taos, central Texas, and then back to New York for a brief stop-over, and then I’m off to Copenhagen, Denmark for a seven month furniture design course. Exciting, huh?

But the best part will be the two weeks in Paris at the end of the summer. I have a really cool collection of 50 walking tours of Paris. I have a place to stay in the 19th Arrondisement, and I’ll be totally finished with graduate school.

The downside is that on August 30, unless I hustle this summer, I will be homeless and unemployed!

I’m not worried. I’ve created a brand new set of skills and a spiffy new toolbox in which to carry them. I’ve got a collection of works done here at Pratt that make me very marketable, and I’ve met some wonderful people who are ready and willing to help me get to the next level professionally.

Here’s the short list of accomplishments for the past nine months.

Finished everything required for the degree except the furniture design course in Copenhagen. Wow! It’s still hard to believe. And even harder to believe that I don’t have to get up early or stay up late to get something or other done for class. Odd sensation of weightlessness. Nothing pressing back except a lingering anxiety about finding a job somewhere in the near future…

Created, presented, wrote, and delivered my thesis, in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the completion of the Master of Interior Design, Department of Art and Science, Pratt Institute.

Designed, created, and displayed a really cool evening dress made entirely of paper (way too many links of chain mail to count). First shown at Ralph Pucci International in Manhattan, December 2010. Displayed next at Macy’s Herald Square, Broadway windows, January 2011. Then displayed in Dusseldorf, Germany, for the manufacturing convention EuroSport in February. Now it’s in a box somewhere on Pratt campus.

Designed and drew two large-scale graphite murals for the Ralph Pucci International showroom. Each mural was 11’ tall x10.5’ wide. First shown December 7th, 2010 for Pratt + Paper & Ralph Pucci. The murals and the paper creations designed by Pratt students were photographed by Antoine Bootz. These photos have been compiled and published in a catalog by Ralph Pucci. AND the photos of my murals are being published in a book called “Wall” designed and created by Ken Smart for Pucci to be distributed this October.

AND the April issue of Interior Design magazine has an 8-page spread of all the paper works, including the murals and the dress. Talk about mileage!

Designed, created, and I’m almost ready to present my new portfolio! Lots of new work, all theoretic since it’s all based on schoolwork, and all really exciting! This will be how I get that new job!

Wow. It’s all such a blur right now that I’d better just sit back and relax and let this flow later. I’m headed to Mom’s in Chicago. We have tickets for an architectural tour from the Chicago River on Friday!

Last Friday Madeline K., and Katherine G. and I went to see King Lear at BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music) with Derek Jacobi playing Lear. AMAZING performance. The set was constructed of stark dirty white large planks of wood with large gaps between each plank. A large stark oval stage floor with nothing extraneous, no decorations, no embellishments, no nothing. Two entrances upstage right and left, and two entrances at the footlights stage left and right. Stark, brutal, and beautiful. Very tall planks that touched the proscenium arch in a large arc spanning the width of the stage. The stage itself was such a powerful presence that it encompassed the audience, as if we were on the stage, as if the stage was another character in the play.

So much more. Break time.

May 27, 2011

Friday morning. Mom and I are heading to the Navy Pier today to take an architectural tour by boat, on the Chicago River. I’m excited. It’s a little chilly, in the fifties, but the sun is out and we should have a great time seeing some of the things I’ve been studying lately.

June 1, 2011

I’m sitting at the Kansas City International Airport wondering why it’s called international. The security gate is just 10 feet from the deplaning exit, which is why I walked right through it looking for my connecting flight gate. I asked the only official-looking person in the vicinity where the video board was for the gates and she said I had to go back through Security. I had breached security, with one foot. In my rage I turned to step left, tripping over someone’s rolling suitcase, falling on my left knee and sending Out of Africa flying. I can’t wait to be on the next flight out of Kansas City.

The visit with Mom was great. We got to do some shopping, catch up on family stories and gossip, and we began doing some research into our family heritage. When I was born Mom had put down the names of all my relatives, as far back as she knew, in a baby book. She had given me this book last Christmas when I was there in Oak Park. It’s now packed in a box somewhere in storage in Brooklyn. I joined an online registry to research a little deeper, and a little further back. I’m kind of excited about what, and who, I’ll find. I know my Dad’s Dad was a farmer, and Mom’s adopted Dad was a fertilizer and farm equipment salesman, as well as a one-time sheriff of the town where Mom grew up.

You know, there are hundreds of reasons sitting around me that remind me why I left the Midwest… I’ll probably edit this out later, but right now I feel pretty negative about the whole experience today. Especially the Kansas City part of it. The sad part is that my great grandmother was from Missouri, so I actually have some distant ties to Mo.

And I’ve gained some weight being at Mom’s. Sugar and wheat. Blasphemy! Gotta get back on track with the proper diet.

I know people are people wherever you go, just like the song says, but I can’t help feeling that people are not the same everywhere. There are different varieties of experience and different calibers of people. It feels as if I’ve been in the right place all along, but that I haven’t found where I fit in, yet. Perhaps that’s why I haven’t found a partner yet. Or maybe I’ve met him and wasn’t ready then. Or perhaps I’m one of the ones who is destined to remain single, for reasons that will be disclosed at a later time.

I sure hope my bags make it to Albuquerque at the same time, and on the same plane that I do!

I miss New York.

June 25, 2011
Reykjavik, Iceland

Bleak and stunning. The sky, the light at midnight is overwhelmingly beautiful. As we landed vast stretches of lavender covered fields lay soft and reflective on the undersides of gray clouds. The sunlight is pale peach and I don’t know what direction the light is coming from, a low sliver, a band of golden peach. The airport is equally bleak, architecturally. Warm deep taupe steel panels, grey cement pillars, wide plank wooden flooring that doesn’t look like oak but it might be. It’s similar in its golden tawny amber hues. And large panels of glass exposing the bleak landscape filled with green and lavender covered lava washes. Stunning. The languages of the travelers amaze me, Russian, Icelandic, Japanese, and dirty English.

June 25th, 7AM Copenhagen

There’s a blocks-long yellow wall with lots of trees behind it, several old iron gates puncturing it, across the street from where I’ll be living for the next seven weeks. I’m about 3 hours early for my meeting with Gitte, my new landlady, so I hauled my tired ass and my laptop and my two pieces of luggage and my beat-up backpack into the open gate closest to Meinungsgade and wandered through the tombstones and gardens until I found this park bench where I sit and type, in relative bliss. It’s cool, it’s Sunday, it’s quiet and it’s lush with greenery and gravestones. There’s a boneyard near the bench with broken and displaced headstones, behind a low iron fence and between two white stucco buildings with red clay tile roofs. The tile roofs have glass tiles interspersed between the red clay tiles – skylights! An occasional jogger or bicyclist cruises by and says “hi”, which apparently means “hi” in Danish. Who knew? The sky is a soft dove gray, marbled with white mottling and soft bits of blue. An amazing welcome and final resting place. And my old friend the magpie just showed up.

July 2, 2011

It’s Saturday and I am relaxing a bit. I’ve done some sightseeing and taken some photographs and I’ve made some lovely sketches in the journal that will be handed in later this summer. It’s about 7:30 and the light is gorgeous because it’s raining bucketfuls. It’s an old-fashioned thunderstorm and downpour that reminds me of the summer of 1977. I was living in Rimas Visgirda and Ana Skorstad’s house right across the street from Millikin University campus. Rimas and Ana had gone to Europe for the summer and left my best buddy Jeffrey Jones and me to watch the house, rent free. Joy of Joys. It was my first experience of living in a house without adult supervision. It wasn’t a dorm or Mom’s house, or Dad’s house. It was our house. We had dinner parties. We had movie parties. We had drunken parties as only college students can have. And Jeff had introduced me to Pink Floyd that summer. I’d heard them before but not like this.

Summer in central Illinois can be hot and sometimes the only relief comes in the form of a banger of a thunderstorm, all out smashing, crashing, lightning, booming and torrential rain. Rimas and Ana’s house had one of those wrap around porches with a porch swing and lots of big metal armchairs, the ones with the fan shape imprinted on the back and holes cut through the seats for drainage. A storm would brew and Jeff would scurry around preparing for the main event. He had several old silk parachutes, a pink one and a white one. The white one hung all around his bedroom, making the room appear very Isadora Duncan. The pink one was reserved for thunderstorms. He’d put “Dark Side of the Moon” on the turntable (yes, this is way before digital) and crank the volume. He’d ask me to help move all the furniture either out of the living room or pushed all the way to the walls. The front porch was reserved for snacks later. There were several large picture windows in the living room and in the foyer, and the front door had a large pane in it as well. The storm would kick up several notches and Jeff would disappear. He was an incredible choreographer and he’d slipped undetected under the pink silk parachute. When the sky got really dark and the music got really loud he’d hit the strobe on his photo equipment, making lightning inside the house, under the parachute. The storm outside was mimicked inside in pink, choreographed, amplified and silkified with an oscillating fan positioned just so under one edge of the parachute.

I think of Jeff today as the storm here in Copenhagen rages and abates. I owe Jeff a big amends for some really bad behaviors I did years ago. I haven’t spoken to him for more than twenty years and I miss him. I’ve facebooked. I’ve Googled. I’ve even gotten on Millikin’s alumni list and searched but I can’t find him. Perfect temper for a thunderstorm far, far away.

July 6, 2011

Had a really lovely road trip south yesterday to visit the Trapholt Museum of Modern Art in Kolding, and two sub-manufacturers: one for metal parts and one for form pressed plywood parts. Great day witnessing the guts of the industry; how does it get made?

We leave for the long study tour on Friday at 7AM from Israel Plads (gotta find that one) for a nine-day trip through Sweden, Denmark and Finland, visiting some really wonderful architectural sights.

I am enjoying Denmark quite a bit. It’s a challenge getting to know a new place, especially one as far removed from New York as this one is. They call Copenhagen the Paris of the north, but I don’t see the connection, at least not yet. Learning the currency, where the grocery stores are and which ones are good for what, finding the pharmacy because I have a cold and need vitamin C, all the everyday things we tend to take for granted when we live in a place for a while. It’s a great challenge and I’m grateful that I have a strong desire to be an active participant in my life. While this is a culturally diverse place I haven’t been to any live performances, just museums and galleries. It seems that summer is slow time here: vacations, dark days in the theater and then there’s the prices. It is more expensive here than in New York. I was warned but I wasn’t prepared. I do enjoy the apartment we have here, a lovely two bedroom, first-floor flat in an older building, 1883. I’m rambling, better get to school. Ciao for now.

July 15, 2011

Every once in a while it’s important for me to eat something really wonderfully over-the-top. Tonight was that once in a while, having lived through a week of travelling 24/7 with thirty twenty-somethings through three countries. I rode the bicycle around Copenhagen’s city center, the oldest part of the town, not sure what I wanted or where to go to get it. I stumbled upon one of the walking streets (no cars, no bicycles, just pedestrians and shops). There are two of these that I’m aware of. One is the Stroget, pronounced something like “stror-uh”. And the other one I can’t find on the map. It’s late.

I found a restaurant called Europa on the Stroget and parked the bike. Short menu: tapas and antipastos, but not small. It was a lovely evening, slightly chilly, and I considered sitting outside with the other tourists but I decided I would sit inside and watch the outsiders. Simple glass of water and a dish named “Europa 1989 Platter”. It consisted of two small loaves of bread, one crusty rustic white and the other a crunchy warm caramel brown and chock full of nuts, slightly sweet, with fresh butter; a small ramekin of barely steamed baby shrimp in a spicy remoulade topped with sprigs of fresh dill; delicate slices of carpaccio topped with freshly shaved parmessiano reggiano, olice oil and cracked pepper; a small slab of duck liver mousse; several shavings of prosciutto topped with baby raddiccio, olive oil, toasted pine nuts and fresh sweet strawberries; a terrine of pale fish mousse (whose name has already escaped me) topped with nicoise olives and tiny bits of parsley; a small slab of a strong aged Danish blue cheese; a small slab of a strong aged white cheese, perhaps appenzeller but I’m not sure; a salad of chopped steamed lobster with apple and celery and parsley dressed a light vinaigrette; a small salad of fresh greens, steamed green beans and lots of nuts (pine nuts, sunflower seeds, pepinos, brazil nuts and macadamia nuts) drizzled with a spicy honey mustard dressed; a large slice of lime and a candied apricot. It was truly enough food for two people but I was really hungry so I ate it all myself, except for the leftover bit of the two cheeses that I just couldn’t force myself to eat. They’re in the fridge for tomorrow. Ahh.

August 6, 2011

Another gap in the writing. Alas. I’m heading into the home stretch here in Copenhagen. I finished the chair yesterday. Pictures are on facebook for those interested. It’s for sale, the proceeds helping me to get home and find a job… Joking! Not! But seriously, if the right offer for the chair came along I’d sell. Everything is for sale, right?

We have to clean the studio tomorrow and deliver our chairs and notebooks to the gallery there at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts, School of Architecture. Then we have a final exam on Wednesday and the private opening of the chair show. Photos happen sometime this week, of the chairs and us sitting in them. I return my bike to the rental place on Saturday. Get the deposit back. Meet with the landlady, check the apartment, and get the deposit back. And Sunday I fly to Paris for a two-week vacation.

It’s been a long stay here in Copenhagen. I didn’t think it would feel like that, but it does. Not bad, just long. Not a vacation in the usual sense, more of a short semester of school, in a foreign country. There have been lots of pleasant moments finishing the chair, visiting Elsinor, seeing the Royal Treasury, bicycling everywhere. And some less than upbeat moments, just like life. It rained a lot here this summer. I guess that’s normal but I wasn’t expecting it. I was prepared with a raincoat. I wasn’t prepared to ride the bicycle often in the rain, to and from studio. I’ve also been quite lonesome. I have a great roommate, Michael, whom I knew from Santa Fe, who’s also studying at Pratt. And most of my classmates are twenty-somethings. There are a few in their thirties. And I think I’m the only one in a twelve-step program. I have shared my experience with several of the youngsters. You betcha. And I’m certainly the only middle-aged gay man on the trip.

I’ve taken thousands of photographs (no, I didn’t put all of them on facebook, just a lot!). And I’ve done some really lovely drawings in four sketchbooks that I’ll scan and put on my webpage, or here, or on facebook. Not sure yet. I think some of the drawings will become gifts to friends. Surprises. I’ve read six or seven books since leaving NYC, and I just bought three more at a re-sale shop from down the street. I read a lot.

Nap time just hit. See you later.

August 13, 2011

I am sad to report that I just returned my rental bike to the folks at StudentBikes.dk. Lovely people with a good business at a great price. 450 Dkk for the seven weeks I was here and a 500 Dkk deposit, which I gratefully just got back. That’s $90 US dollars for a summer of independent riding through Copenhagen. And the $100 I just got back is going to Paris with me!

I was online last night exploring some of the places I want to see in Paris. I have never been to Notre Dame and it is high up on the list as I’ve done some cathedral studying over the past two years in school. There is a concert of vocal soloists and the organ happening there Monday August 22nd, to which I’m going. Very exciting.

I’ve also never been to Musee d’Orsay, and it’s on the list. And several places recommended by friends. Gilbert Jeune is a used bookstore to see and shop. Le Cinetiere du Pere Lachaise is where Oscar Wilde and friends are buried. Les Puces is the famous flea market in the Marais. Naturally the Louvre as I haven’t seen it since before I.M. Pei built a pyramid in the courtyard, made movie star famous by “The Da Vinci Code”. The Musee Rodin was a favorite of mine thirty years ago and I shall return. Musee Quai Branly is recommended by my hosts in Paris, Sharon and Adam. Michael, my roommate here in Copenhagen and friend from Santa Fe has suggested I see Vaux-Le-Vicomte, the palace of one of Louis XIV former advisors. When Louis got a look at the place he banished the Vicomte and took over the palace. Ooops.

I have not regretted anything here in Copenhagen. School was lovely except that it wasn’t the vacation I was looking for. Hmm. And the weather hasn’t been as cooperative and sunny as I would have liked. Unfortunately I have no control over the weather, much as I’d like. I’ve met some great people with whom I hope to keep in touch, at least through facebook. And I’ve seen some amazing sights. Seven weeks is a long stay in one place and I’m ready to move on. Bit of vacation, R & R in Paris, and hunting for a job, sending out emails and resumes and portfolios to strangers online, working the network I’ve begun to develop. Wish me luck that exactly the right job will appear at exactly the right time. Thanks.
As Always, Love, KC

Hot Time, Summer in the City

Installment Eighteen

July 1, 2010

“… the lingering scent of invisible lilacs.”
- Proust, In Search of Lost Time: Swann’s Way, Volume One

Okay, call me a romantic. Yeah, again. It’s true, hopelessly. And I just don’t want to stop.

I flew to Taos about six weeks ago to work and stay with my friend Carolyn, and to work and stay with my friend Maureen. It was my first visit “home”. And I realized that “You can’t go home again.” I spent my first full day there wandering around the plaza, just walking, looking around, watching the tourists, and I realized that I was the tourist. I felt like a tourist. I didn’t really live there anymore.

It was a sad and sobering realization, and one that needed to be happen. I just wasn’t aware that it was my turn.

I had a lovely time in Taos. I visited many friends and acquaintances; people I hadn’t seen since I left last August, people who truly missed me, and people who didn’t know I’d left.

I stopped first at Plaza de Retiro, a retirement community, to see A and D. We share a very intimate story. D was very ill more than a year ago and I came in to help. I was working and volunteering for the hospice program in Taos and preparations were being made. I stayed with D on a number of occasions, helping as best I could, giving A some time away. He and I made a wonderful bond. D is a writer and philosopher and he shared his insight into the human condition with me in ways no one has ever done before. I appreciated his patience and his tolerance of my sometimes ignorant questions. He never faltered in sharing love, tolerance, quiet understanding, and a palpable sense of serenity. A man truly at peace with himself and the world. Admiration is not a strong enough word.

I knocked at their door and D answered, as spry and clear-eyed as when I had met him several years ago, long before the illness set in. He had made an amazing recovery, a miracle. We hugged. He said A was working in her studio and that she would be thrilled to see me, so we walked, something D had not been able to do unaided last year, to her studio out back. She was thrilled, and so was I. We sat and visited and I got to share with them my own journey through my father’s death. I got to start grieving my Dad with someone who had been in hospice care. Quite a beginning to the journey.

I think I had at least four cups of tea with at least seven friends in several different settings that day. I called Chris, my retired nun friend and got her to drive into town and visit with me. We talked and talked and talked some more. She’s also a writer who seems to be taking a hiatus from writing. Pity, because she can tell a story. Hint, hint, Chris. Get back to it! We’re all waiting for The Rest of It. Chris was first our friend Aja’s friend. Aja recommended Chris to me quite a while ago when Chris first moved to Taos and purchased a house. Chris called me one afternoon and asked if I would help her hang some artwork. Sure!, I said, and we made a date. Several months later we had totaling transformed her bland little two bedroom house into a stunning and colorful home. No more mauve! We became fast friends. We shared that sad day when Aja suffered the stroke that took her from us. Many tears.

My second day (it gets better, I just can’t think of a way to continue the story creatively except by using “My second day…”) I got picked up like the gigolo that I am by Carolyn who escorted me to a hotel (hers) to walk (wink, wink) the rooms. We have worked together for about ten years now, turning a quaint southwestern hotel into a charming jewel of a boutique hotel that happens to be in downtown Taos.

We have re-designed and re-decorated 34 of the 44 rooms there, building and decorating 8 new rooms four years ago. I started at the hotel as a waiter, graduated to front desk clerk and eventually became a manager-on-duty before I finally retired into interior design full time.

I was pleasantly surprised after nine months of intense graduate school to walk through the physical evidence of design decisions made nine and ten years ago to find that the decisions have held up nicely. Many of you know, and if you don’t here it comes, that I have a degree in fine art not in interior design. I like to believe that I have an eye for design and color and I’m not being very humble when I say that. Somebody’s got to toot the horn. Graduate school has a way, and maybe it’s on purpose, of helping one re-define ones’ sense of knowing, especially during the first semester. I believe some call it separating the men from the boys. It can also be called ego-deflation. It’s a good thing. The armed forces use this technique to stamp out the individuality, to make a fighting machine out of a group of folks who otherwise might, well, I’m taking that analogy way too far…

So, as I started to say, I was really happy to find good design in the rooms we had decorated nine and ten years ago, and the design has held up through my more scrutinizing eyes, the eyes that have had an initial training in what really good design is supposed to be. Is this political enough? Should I just stop right here and now and tell the story. It’s pretty thick, huh?

July 21, 2010

Long time no write. Shoot me. It’s too hot and humid to write anything except how hot and humid it is so I didn’t want to bore you.

I got an email a week or so ago from my friend Katherine, who I met through Madeline last summer. She’s a twinkling sprite of a lady, a writer, and a person who takes yoga very seriously. She is also very fond of the arts, an aficionada if you will. She wrote to invite me to an opera that was performed last evening. I am so glad I went! The opera, entitled La Porta della Legge was staged at the Gerald W. Lynch Theater at John Jay College, a venue of which I was not familiar. I’m still a newbie to New York so I made sure I had plenty of time to get there before the performance, which means I am usually radically early. I like to walk, so I take these early moments to wander and walk and explore. Every trip becomes an adventure. I took the A train to 59th Street/Columbus Circle, a neighborhood I may have mentioned recently having gone to see the exhibition “Dead or Alive” at 2 Columbus Circle in the Museum of Art and Design (if you’re in New York, or coming soon DO NOT MISS this show). John Jay College is on 10th Avenue between 58th and 59th Street so I had some blocks to walk. I wandered, marveling at the skyscrapers and the variety of people walking, strolling, walking their dogs, enjoying an early evening. I walked north on 10th Avenue because I had never walked there before and came upon the back side of Lincoln Center. It’s lovely, coming in the back, seeing the service entrances and whatnot. Lots of people sitting and enjoying the evening. Walked north to the new, as yet unfinished café designed by Diller Scofidio and Renfro, with its sloping green grass roof that doubles as a park space for lounging. But the first highlight of the evening was watching the new fountain in the plaza at Lincoln Center. It is stunning. A company called Wet designed the new fountain. They are known for their large scale water designs in Las Vegas, outside Bellagio and many other casinos, like the Pirates of the Caribbean display. The water becomes alive in beautiful ways, shooting from unseen cannons to more than sixty feet in the air. The smiles and applause of the folks watching and taking pictures was charming. A beautiful shared experience of water in an utterly urban landscape.

The libretto and lyrics for the opera are based on Frank Kafka’s story “Before the Law”, which was written in 1914 and is part of the 1925 novel “The Trial”, which was published posthumously. Salvatore Sciarrino has based “La porta della Legge” on this part of the longer work.

I would tell you the entire story here, as it is not a long tale, but rather I will tell you the short version and some of the emotions I felt during this magical evening of theater. Three singers, a baritone (man 1), a counter-tenor (man 2), and a bass (the gatekeeper), enact the saga of “man versus bureaucracy”, and the futility of that pursuit, at least in Kafka’s eyes. Man 1 attempts, during the course of his lifetime, to gain entrance into the “law”, as is made real by the gatekeeper and the passage through which he seeks entrance. The gatekeeper repeatedly says, “No, not yet”. The slow and steady pace of the action of the opera keeps one hoping against hope that this little man will gain entrance. Alas, it is not to be. In one final vain attempt to ask the right question the little man asks, “Why after all these years, has no one else tried to gain entrance here?” To which the gatekeeper replies, “Because this gate was made especially for you. And now I am closing it.” And the little man dies. The action is made even more painful by the slow and very deliberate physical action, almost stop-action quality of the actors. Each has the ability to strike a pose which exemplifies their status and emotional state. The gatekeeper stands erect momentarily in a fur-collared overcoat, and then slumps his shoulders back, throwing his abdomen radically forward while looking out from under his bushy black eyebrows. It is a posture of total and overbearing dominance. The little man cowers, holding his crumpled fedora in claw-like hands, unable to stand up for his life.

While the actors sing incredibly difficult, microtonal verse against an accompaniment of lush atonal sounds from the Wuppertal Orchestra from Germany, the set pieces move in a slow and methodical way. There are two large panels that almost meet center stage, with a third panel suspended over and behind the two, creating a doorway or gate. The panels are painted a muddy brown with the slightest traces of windows or rectangles made by simple splatters of paint, as if someone laid a piece of cardboard over the panel and splattered a slightly darker paint only at the edges and then removed the cardboard, leaving just a hint that some opening was there that might have been bricked up. Beyond the gate, upstage, is what appears to be a scrim, a vaporous fabric through which is seen a horizontal band of bright white light, as if the horizon had extended to infinity right there on the stage. Incredible light, and a masterful lighting designer named Sebastian Ahrens. The panels very slowly, almost imperceptibly, retract, leaving the horizon to be more and more open and exposed, making the space feel vulnerable and raw, surreal. This movement of the panels is so slow that it encompasses the entirety of the first scene, maybe twenty some minutes. The horizontal field of light that stretched across what appears to be the back of the stage has slowly, imperceptibly shifted. It is now dark although I don’t recall seeing this happen. Like watching the moon crawl across the sky. You can watch and watch and watch and never see the movement, but when you look away for a moment, the moon has moved. Like that, so slowly that you can’t see it but you know it’s happening because the mood is shifting from hope and possibility to despair and angst.

And then MORE magic happens.

The dead little man lies center stage and the gatekeeper is stage left, which is the right side of the stage from the audience perspective. The gatekeeper stands erect and motionless, as if on guard, waiting for some next action. Behind the gatekeeper a small motion is witnessed and a hat appears, presumably on the head of another man behind the gatekeeper. While this small motion is happening the first man lying center stage disappears. INTO THIN AIR. I never saw him go. I could find no trace of a trapdoor through which he might have slipped. I saw no movement of the scrim. I was transported into another dimension by the deus ex machine of the theater. I am still amazed two days later.

Scene One has ended and Scene Two begins without break or interruption as the gatekeeper steps further stage left and there appears another little man (man 2). The action of the play repeats, almost verbatim, except that the opera is sung in Italian and I do not speak the language. It is also difficult to tell what is being sung because the tonality and rhythm of the language and text are made to sound like animals, or birds, or the echoing of groans inside caves. It is amazing and I am mesmerized. As the second little man and the gatekeeper repeat the lines sung in the first scene the light again begins to shift from dark gray and bleak to lighter. The stage is slowly transforming again. The panels left and right slowly move toward center and the panel above begins dropping, but everything happens at a pace that stops time. The actors, the two men, the second little man and the gatekeeper, continue their chant-like staccato intonations of syllables, interspersed with groaning tones, hollow and mournful. The gatekeeper continues in stop-action poses, not caricatures of poses but real movements in space that stop, leaving one to think something might just be about ready to happen that never really does. The second little man frets, groans, moans, gibbers and then looks questioningly at the gatekeeper, hoping that this might now be the time to gain entrance. And the little man grows old, and the gatekeeper persists, “No, Not yet.”

The panels left, right and top have by now closed into the shape of a door, similar to the beginning of the first scene. There is a difference now, and it is just now becoming apparent to me. The action has shifted subtly and unobtrusively. The first scene was acted outside the gate, the actors looking in and upstage. The lighting in the second scene is all upstage, leaving the panels close to the audience downstage dark and foreboding. The director has created a reversal. It is not conclusive because we have no real evidence but it appears that we, the audience, are now inside the law, we are the bureaucracy, we are within and the gatekeeper and the second little man are outside looking in. It is an uneasy feeling. The little man has slumped to the ground, aging and dying. We witness him horizontally, within the frame of the door-like opening created by the moving panels. The panels continue slowly closing. We see the man is a skewed scene. Are we sideways or is he? Are we right side up or is he? Disconcerting imagery. Very effective stagecraft. Incredible lighting design. The gatekeeper appears, horizontally also but from stage right now, bending over the reclining figure of the second little man, pointing his finger in reprimand. “No, Not yet.”

The panels continue closing until just the resting head of the little man is visible, extremely well lit, and dead. And the panels close to black.

Scene three begins with both little men on stage standing behind the scrim, barely lit and barely visible. A projection of each man appears on the scrim in front of each. The men are individually enclosed in red box-like (coffin?) structures. It is not readily apparent that this is a projection until one of the images begins to move upward and a second image, almost a duplicate of the first appears, and then another, a fourth, a fifth, more. The other man’s image also moves, downward this time. Several other images appear on various other parts of the scrim. All are moving vertically in space, each image is making a slightly different action. Each image is in a slightly smaller scale than the one next to it, creating a distortion of space and time that leaves me breathless and confused. The singing, the chirping birds, the groaning in caves, the staccato gibberish continues as one by one the video images disappear and the stage is again black. The orchestra has stopped.

Thunderous applause. Amazement and dismay.

Oh, and sweet Katherine had brought me delicious plums (most of which I ate before the curtain was up) and lovely yellow squashes from the co-op she belongs to. Fresh and organic and delicious! Thank You Katherine!
Sunday night I’m seeing a play written by Amy and David Sedaris called “The Book of Liz”, about Elizabeth Donderstock, whose claim to fame are her amazing cheeseballs. They are so good, in fact, that they provide the livelihood for her entire community, the Amish-esque town of Squeamish. I can’t imagine what fun it’ll be. The Old Stone House is in Park Slope and they do this stuff for free in an outdoor amphitheatre! How neat is that?

Later. That’s enough, isn’t it?

You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it’s all right. ~Maya Angelou

End of the Year Happy!

Installment S

450W14, the thesis site

eventeen

April 2, 2010

Hey Everybody!

I’ve received some really wonderful and constructive criticism this past semester (and some high praise but if I go on about that my head won’t fit through the door), and the outstanding comment in my mind has been, repeatedly, “I like the way you think.”

I like that, and I like the implication that brings up. If I’m thinking well and they understand how I’m thinking, it shows that I’m presenting my thinking in a clear and cogent, and perhaps even intelligent way. I’m very pleased with that because I can think myself blue in the face but if I can’t express my thinking then I’m just another frustrated designer/artist/writer/dilettante who’s working at Starbucks because nobody’s buying my stuff. No offense to Starbucks. At least they offer benefits. And I won’t say no to a job there right about now because the designer jobs, the lowly ones for college students, are few and far between.

It’s almost Spring here in the big city, and not a moment too soon for my taste. March was not a pleasant month for being outside and I walk everywhere. Lots of cold rain, lots of intense wind, and three broken umbrellas. I doubt that buying anything better than the $3 umbrella from the corner bodega would be of much help. The streets are littered with broken umbrellas after every storm in March. And now it’s April and the flowers are growing and the grass is up, and yesterday and today, lo and behold, the sun is shining. I’m a happy bunny on this Good Friday.

I presented two more iterations of two projects from last semester to my professor this afternoon. I had taken an incomplete for Design Studio last semester, partly because of the time I took being away at Dad’s funeral, and partly because I wasn’t getting what she was teaching, and partly because I knew I could do better. I’m grateful that she allowed me to re-do these projects even though re-doing them took away some of the Christmas break and most of the spring break. The time it took to do the work wasn’t the big issue. The difficult thing was doing and re-doing and re-doing the same projects. I was getting bored, and boredom and creativity aren’t necessarily good bedfellows.

Wednesday, April 7th

It’s my old friend Joedy’s birthday today. Happy birthday Joedy.

I think I like Wednesdays almost better than any other day of the week, at least this semester. I have Wednesdays off currently, which really only means that I don’t have class or work, just homework, which happens every other day anyway, should I choose to remember it and do something about it.

I’m heading into the city to meet Barbara, who is a producer of a show here and elsewhere around the world. It’ll be nice to have lunch with someone who isn’t directly related to school or interior design, someone who has a real job, who does things other than homework and classes, and has time and resources to go places other than campus and the grocery store. Don’t get me wrong. I love my life, and there are times when I am less than fantastically grateful for it; times when the homework seems endless and I am sleepy, times when the understanding of a concept just escapes me. Times when I can’t seem to draw one more line. Ah. Whining. The essence of life!

So, this particular Wednesday is a beautiful one, warm, slight breeze, sunny, and promising warmer and sunnier. I’m going to visit a classmate later today after lunch with Barbara. As Tom and I don’t have class together this semester we don’t get to visit as often as last. And we both happened to not be quite so busy today so we’ll sit and chat for a while.

And then I’ll go back downtown to the High Line and take some more pictures. The site I’ve chosen for my thesis work (next year, although the research work has already started) is a building that sits above the High Line. Check it out.

http://www.thehighline.org/

The building is in a bad state of disrepair, or at least it was when the school took photos of it. Now the old warehouse building with the rail lines running through it has another building sprouting out it’s top. I’ll attach some photos here if I remember how (ah how the mind frizzles when left to its own devices). Not to worry, the thesis I’vm developing isn’t for a real building or real developers or real people, only an imaginary project that has slim chances of ever being realized, unless one of the jurors happens to be a developer who happens to really like the thesis and design and happens to want to build a hospice center over the High Line. Like I said, slim.

So, the old part is the bottom, and the new top isn’t what I’m designing. Somebody else is doing that part. And the High Line runs right through the bottom of the building, which is kind of cool, but poses some challenges for the thesis. One of the large issues with the hospice idea is to have a park nearby where clients can be outside, or at least see nice things outside. This building has incredible views of the Hudson River to the west and the south, and nice views of midtown to the east. And there’s that lovely High Line Park just below. Another big issue is access. The actual street is about 30 feet (or so) below the level of the High Line, which means that the physical entrance to the building is rather dark, uneventful, hidden, gloomy, oppressive, well, you get the picture. So the challenge will be to make an entrance sequence that is inviting, comforting, welcoming, warm, loving, and above all, a reflection of the elegance, sensitivity, meaningfulness and care which will be offered by the hospice environment, and in the services rendered from the caregivers and the staff. I’m up for the challenge.

Okay, that old friend Protestant Work Ethic is calling. I’m sitting here writing to you when I should be writing homework, or drawing a plan of the office building design for Studio, or something other than lolly-gagging in my jimmies. Okay, too much information. Here are some photos of the thesis site.

Just ignore that multi-storied structure coming out the top of the old brick part, and remember that there’s another floor below the one I’m standing on while taking this picture…

May 17, 2010

Can you believe it? I finished the final draft and printing of the pre-design research and analysis book for thesis last Monday! I delivered the bound copy that afternoon and celebrated the end of the first year of grad school by taking a nap. Ahhhhhh. Four days ago, Wednesday, I went online and discovered that I had received straight “A’s” for the past semester. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. Yippee! The anxiety and sleepless nights paid off. That’ll show those 25- and 26-year-olds, huh.
Since then I’ve had naps, and good food, and social events that I had postponed until after the semester was over. Ahhhhhhhh.

Thursday I treated myself to an afternoon at the Metropolitan Museum. I went specifically to see the new show “American Woman: Fashioning a National Identity”. I had read a really great review in the New Yorker several days before. Having worked with fashion and costumes for a long time I wanted to see the collection, and how they had displayed it. Along the way I ran into a classmate so we wandered around the museum looking at various exhibits. If you’ve never been I can tell you it’s easy to get lost. It’s HUGE! Got to see the new exhibit of medieval sculptures call “The Mourners”. Incredible! Each statue is about 12 or so inches tall and there must be about 40 of them. The faces on each mourner have such human expressions of sadness and loss that it’s overwhelming. They are carved of alabaster and are lined up in pairs on a long black pedestal, lit beautifully so they have an inner glow. Breathtaking.

He had to leave for an appointment so I went up to the costume exhibit alone. I was impressed with the exhibit, with the progression of spaces from late nineteenth century to today. It was a beautiful exhibit except for the hair. They had some nu-nu hair dresser make wigs out of what looked like rat skins, gel’d and glittered into submission. Not pretty, and very distracting from the pure beauty of the costumes. The settings were glorious. Beautifully painted backdrops executed in a loose painterly style. The final room of display was entirely digital within a circular room. Video displays of choreographed images danced around the space. Images of Bette Davis, Jackie Kennedy Onassis, Ali McGraw, Billie Holiday, photos of hundreds of women shown with Lenny Kravitz singing “American Woman” over the images. Okay, I’m a sentimental sap. But you knew that, right? Truly beautiful.

Friday I met my friends James, Donna, Kevin and Jon from Indianapolis and we took the subway to The Cloisters, built in 1930 to resemble an Italian villa and to house a huge collection of medieval art collected by the likes of John D. Rockefeller and his buddies. It is part of the Metropolitan Museum collection and is stunning. The work ranges from the 11th century to the 15th century. It’s mostly religious in nature, statues, reliquary, chalices of silver and gold, carved and polychromed walnut statues of saints and angels, architectural fragments of cloisters, colonnades of columns carved in every style imaginable. The villa sits on cliffs above the Hudson River, just north of the 190th Street subway station, in a large forested park. There are illuminated manuscripts with gilded pages that are incredibly beautiful. Here are some photos.

That afternoon we walked through midtown, up Fifth Avenue through Rockefeller Center

where Prometheus presides over the skating rink except it’s warm outside so there’s no ice, just dining al fresco. We dropped Kevin (in gray) at Saks Fifth Avenue. He likes shopping. And then we dropped Jon (in black) at a subway stop near the Warwick Hotel. He was on a mission to get a postcard for a friend back home. Donna (guess) and James (in the baseball cap) and I walked over to Grand Central Terminal, had a brief tour, and then enjoyed bowls of clam chowder at the famous “Oyster Bar” downstairs. Mmmmmm! Lovely! A long day of walking, seeing the sites, and enjoying great company. And a long subway and bus ride home.

Saturday I attended a sweat lodge in Harriman State Park (Yes Peter, I thought about you all day long. He was raised very near here.) It’s north of Manhattan somewhere. I have a difficult time understanding where I am when I leave the subway and bus system. Stephen drove us and it was really early and I wasn’t paying much attention. Great lodge. Thanks Stephen. Great day. Here’s the lake, just below where the lodge was.

Nothing like a day by the lake after a really challenging semester. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

And today I took a long walk through my neighborhood with my editor friend Willy. She has been a kind new friend who invited me to her home for a Halloween party last year. We met at the Whitney Museum last summer when I first got here. She’s a friend of Mary Ann who lives in Santa Fe. Thanks for the introduction, Mary Ann! There’s a group here called SONYA. That stands for South Of Navy Yard Artists, and I live just south of the Navy Yard in Clinton Hill. This collection of artists open their studios for a self-guided walking tour each spring. Wow! There are a lot of inspiring, talented, hard-working artists here in the ‘hood, and now I know some of them. There were 34 studios open over the weekend and I bet we got to 10 of them. Really great! New friends in the neighborhood!

So, that’s some news that I can share. There’s a ton more that will have to wait. I’m heading to bed early tonight, because I can, and because I’m going to the Javitz Convention Center tomorrow for the International Contemporary Furniture Fair. Big event, big designers, new furniture from around the world. Can’t wait!

Tuesday I haven’t decided what to do yet, except for getting to bed early because I’m heading to Taos and points west on Wednesday and I’ve got a really early flight, which means it’ll be dark outside when I head to the airport. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. Mountains, here I come, for rest, friends, and work! Yippeeeeee! See you all soon. Ciao.

Okay, it doesn’t look like the photos loaded.  I have no idea, and I’m going to bed.  manana….

Installment Sixteen

Spring?

January 22, 2010

Installment Fifteen

Still wandering.

You may recall several months ago just after I got here I blogged about the PrattStore, and how excited I was to have a real life New York City-style art supply store, and in the neighborhood. Having been here a while, and having been introduced to several other art supply stores throughout the city I’ve come to realize that I was wrong in my first impressions. I was impressed. And now I’m not. And to make things even more interesting personally our Design Studio II for Spring is charged with the re-design of the PrattStore. Ten of us in our section (there are about 55 students in my year) are all working on some research aspect of the store itself (that just the first week’s project). I’ve taken about 40 pictures of the environment in and around the store, on campus, and in the neighborhood and I’m determining whether there are any connections, any comparisons worth noting. It’s not looking promising.

Pratt tends to be rather exclusive (which doesn’t really surprise me given the nature of most art schools). And it doesn’t surprise me that the main entrance to the PrattStore faces a major street through the neighborhood, Myrtle Avenue, and that the entrance is not very inviting. It does surprise me that the store doesn’t do as much business as I was expecting, especially from the neighbors. And the store is at the very limits of campus on the northeast edge, which means it’s far from the art department, the interior design department, the industrial design department, and pretty much everything on campus. Actually, when you walk through campus parking lots to get to the PrattStore you must use our student ID’s to get through the large iron gate that separates campus from the neighborhood.

Campus is completely surrounded by an 8 foot wrought iron fence and the gates are not too near each other, making navigation through tricky at best. Rumor has it that one of the reasons the fence was put up was the inordinate number of mothers with baby carriages using campus for their personal neighborhood park. Other rumors suggest that the neighborhood is less than safe. We do border the Bedford Stuyvesant neighborhood, which isn’t too safe. One doesn’t need to flash ID at each gate to be admitted, but you must present ID at each building before entering. It’s very exclusive here but I’ve digressed.

This afternoon my work consists of creating a graphic inventory of PrattStore products in an effort to determine what stays and what must go, with respect to making the store more inviting, more competitive both in price and selection, and better looking in general. Although the building is only about 5 years old it looks like a trailer park remnant. I’ve heard that the prior PrattStore was much worse, and considering other components of my personal Pratt experience I don’t doubt it. I don’t doubt it for a minute.

Then I’ll be off to the computer lab to work on several other projects on SketchUp, AutoCAD, and Photoshop. And then I’ll print out results, email to fellow students, and come home to watch a movie from my roommates’ large pirated collection with spaghetti for dinner. I also had Studio this morning, from 9:30 till 1:00. Lovely new group of classmates working on new projects with a new professor.

I thought I’d bring you into school a bit, show you around, and then tell you about recent trips to museums and whatnot. And tomorrow is laundry, never ending laundry. If I thought I could make it work financially I’d drop it off and pick it up later but that would be twice as much as me doing it myself. I can’t quite justify it yet. And the time sitting in the Laundromat is good for reading, sort of.

I’ve been to see the Bauhaus exhibit at MoMA twice now, and I’m thrilled to have seen it, and fabulous it is. My friend Bob from Taos and his friend Jerry from Denver, are here now and we met at MoMA yesterday for a wonderful walkthrough of the exhibit. And they graciously treated me to lunch at the café on the fifth floor there. Lovely. Thank you Bob and Jerry. It was lovely to walk and talk with Bob and Jerry because they had met several of the artists and faculty from the Bauhaus who’d left Germany and immigrated to the US. Bob is an architect and Jerry is an artist. They attended school together and are old friends. The show itself is stunning. The work from the Bauhaus influences many of the design decisions we make today, from functionality, form, program, process, and concept. It is a living history lesson for me. And most of the Pratt curriculum is derived from Bauhaus theory. Perhaps not directly, or verbatim, but really close.

A classmate and I went to see the Eero Saarinen exhibit last weekend. I had seen it earlier in January with my friend Marianne, and now I saw it again with Sarah. It just gets better everyday here. Saarinen created many iconic American buildings and images, like the St. Louis Arch, and the TWA Terminal at JFK Airport here in NY. I wrote about this earlier so I won’t repeat myself.

I guess my intent is to express my gratitude once again for all the incredible experiences I’m having here, and to share that gratitude with you through stories of the experiences. I’ll keep you posted.

January 29, 2010

Here it is a week later. My friend Brice has pneumonia again and is in treatment. Thanks for your thoughts. He’s been instrumental in my recovery and I wish I could be there with him. I’m not. I’m here in Brooklyn, taking a few minutes before Studio this morning to share a bit of news.

My friend Julie facebooked that she wanted to see “Cosi fan Tutti” next week, and that tickets were $20 each. I wrote and said I’d love to go but that we’d be in the nosebleed seats. The opera is being produced by the students at NYU, not the Metropolitan Opera. I‘m excited. Culture at student prices!

And classes are wonderful. We are doing research on the Grand Central Terminal for Directed Research, and I’m loving it. I was there on Wednesday at 12:30 for the guided walking tour offered by the Municipal Art Society. They’ve been doing tours there almost since the building was built, just after the turn of the twentieth century. I love learning the history of the place, as it’s fraught with intrigue and politics and graft and collusion. Almost like watching a soap opera on TV except that the characters are the likes of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Philip Johnson, and Stanford White. The design of the terminal itself was a precursor to the way we use airports today. The terminal originally separated departing and incoming train traffic for several reasons. It takes lots more time to load a train than it does to unload one, and because there is an underground loop of multiple train tracks the arriving train can then be shuttled around to the departing tracks within minutes of passengers disembarking, making the transition to the more time-consuming process of loading really quick.

Although the building looks like a massive stone structure it’s actually a steel frame with stone (and fake stone!) veneer. Amazing. And that sculpture on the front weighs 1,500 tons, which translates to 3 million pounds, give or take. The clock face is designed and manufactured by Tiffany and is 13 feet in diameter. There’s tons of trivia available for the asking. The terminal was designed to accommodate 500,000 passengers per day. Impressive for a city that was populated with about 3.5 million back in 1903-1913 when it was built. Today about 200,000 commuters and subway riders use the terminal daily, so we’re nowhere near capacity.

Okay, my Monday afternoon class is History of Interior Design: 1700 to the present. Very exciting to me because I love history, and I love reading, and the teacher is fabulous, from Austria, a gorgeous tall blond woman whose doctorate is in Japanese aesthetics. I think I’m in love.

Monday morning is Presentation Techniques, which hasn’t happened yet due to some scheduling issues. Used to be two classes, combined into one, location change, confusion, and the teacher didn’t show last week, so I can’t report on that one yet. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it as I’ve heard that the teacher is really good and we get to combine hand drawing techniques with computer techniques. Great!

Gotta get back to work. Time to draw a plan and several sections for the concept I’ve created for the PrattStore. And work on the presentation for Monday’s research on Grand Central. Photoshop and AutoCAD here I come. Get ready.

February 3, 2010

Days slip by while I’m not looking, leaving me just slightly behind. Then I put my head down, hunker down and work, really work. Study, research, draw, think, re-think and draw some more, in the computer, on paper, on the proverbial dinner napkin.

I suspect I’m getting more and more like a New Yorker. I’ve lately noticed my displeasure (disgust) at the number of cellbows walking down sidewalks not watching where I’m going with my large parcels and computer, my backpack stuffed, my heavy winter coat. There seems to be an inordinate number of people using cell phones everywhere – on the bus, on the streets, on the elevated parts of the subway (thank god they don’t work underground – yet). What can all these people have to talk about? I really miss the phone booth where I don’t have to hear about your love life and why he didn’t want that massage, and what you did about it, and why didn’t anybody call me and tell me that Alicia had passed, okay? Enough! It’s also much more difficult knowing who’s talking on their Blue Tooth and who’s just a lunatic talking to the voices in their head. Sometimes I wonder if there is any difference.

And then this morning I took the B54, my usual bus to downtown Brooklyn, to H&R Block. Yes friends it’s tax time once again, and in order to qualify and receive financial aid one must file tax returns, regardless of how much one didn’t make last year. Unfortunate for me, my Taos accountant screwed up royally and forgot to do my 2008 return, so I’m having that done as well. It’s a long and painful story that I won’t bore you with here. (Okay, he never returned my calls, his secretary became snarky and never left him messages or returned my calls, and when all else failed I had a friend physically retrieve my paperwork from his office and mail it to me here. He had the paperwork since early May 2009 but didn’t touch it other than to file the extension.) Have I mentioned the number of hoops one jumps through living in New York. Did I mention that all my filing is in a cabinet in storage in Taos. It’s tricky.

Because the H&R office is close to the Trader Joe’s I carried my shopping bags (one from the Strand, black mesh, and one from Bloomingdales, black poplin, gray trim, nice embroidery, thanks to Carolyn for shopping there!) and shopped for staples, butter, milk, eggs, bread, because it’s so much cheaper than the local grocery. So, I’ve got two shopping bags full of $46 worth of groceries (a lot!) and my computer because I needed it for the taxes, and I’m back on the bus, and I recognize someone on the bus. She’s not from class or the neighborhood, but someone I’ve seen on the bus. Is this making any sense or should I just get back to the homework and blow off the blogging.

I did get a really nice email yesterday from Peter in Taos, about how my writing about Pratt and life is bringing up all kinds of personal history for him. It was such a positive, affirming, and encouraging email that I have to keep writing, even if it’s only a way to record my daily blatherings.

And last night after one of those meeting I attend for my serenity and sanity I took the bus (B54 again) and train (the 4) to Grand Central Terminal. It’s actually not a station. It’s a terminal. Officially, Grand Central Station is the Post Office around the corner.
Anyway, after pin-up and crit during Directed Research yesterday we learned about continuation of the research project, folding our individual research into what the other students did, and digging deeper, finding connections, a story line, a thread on which to cast a thought. Our brief is as follows: imagine that a developer has called and said “I have an option to rent 4,000 square feet of space in Grand Central Terminal. Where should the space be and what kind of business should I put there?” Interesting, huh? We do the research: demographics, use, traffic patterns, materials, lighting, furniture, etc. and determine what might work best where, and more importantly (from our due diligence) why. Fascinating stuff.

Okay. Really gotta work now. Love you all.

This one’s shorter because you asked for it to be shorter. Fine. Bueno Bye.

End of the Semester, and Happy Holidays!

Installment Fourteen
December 16, 2009

What a ride this has been, and although I still have a presentation for AutoCAD this afternoon, a delivery of drawings (Architectural Drawing) also this afternoon, and a presentation for Lighting Design tomorrow morning I feel like I can see the pinprick of light at the end of a very long tunnel. (Is that dramatic enough?)

Have I mentioned lately why I’m here? Perhaps not enough. I’m here to be grateful for all the blessings and lessons I’ve been given in this lifetime. And they are legion.

I was expecting grad school to be challenging, and enriching, and sleepless, and hungry, and surprising, and anxious, and fun, and energizing, and maybe just a little bit scary. And I got all my wishes! And then some!

Next semester I’ll know a little bit better what to expect, how to pace myself (maybe), and how much harder to work.

You may be thinking to yourself, “My God, man. It’s interior design. How hard can it be, for God’s sake?”

And I would reply, “You come try it. Come sit in my chair for a day, or a week, or a semester, and see how you fare.”

And therein lies my dilemma. I believe that before I got here I thought like you’re thinking right now, “how hard can it be? A little velvet, some splashes of paint, a new chair…”? And I’m here to testify that I was wrong! There’s no point in me spending precious energy trying to convince you, dear reader, that it’s a challenging program here at Pratt. I don’t need to concern myself with what you think. I do need to concern myself with what I think, and how I think, and how I produce what I think about, and for whom am I producing, and why. That’s Pratt in a nutshell. Justify my existence each and every day, and grow through that production and justification.

And frankly, that’s not all of it. There’s always laundry, and figuring out how to make beans and rice more exciting when the only green chili here comes in “Mild” in a can from the bodega on the corner for way more money that it should. And then there’s dealing with New York City landlords, and leaking windows, and no hot water, and no heat. And the challenges of finding ink cartridges for the printer without walking a mile to the Office Depot, and without paying exorbitant on-campus prices for the same thing. Or buying a mattress and getting it to my apartment on public transportation. (No, I didn’t have to do that. My buddy Stan picked me up and we tied it onto the roof of his car. It does make for an interesting story though, doesn’t it?) The really interesting part is the cost of dry cleaning. It is radically cheaper here than anywhere I can remember. I can get a button down shirt cleaned and pressed for about 65 cents at the cleaner just a block from my house. Amazing.

I’m heading to Chicago tomorrow for some R&R with Mom and sister and nephews and niece, and when I get back (Not carting the computer anywhere, okay?) I’ll write more about the perils of Pratt, and I’ll take pictures of the campus library, said to be the only extant example of stacks designed by Louis Comfort Tiffany. They are bronze and glass and amazingly beautiful. And perhaps I’ll even figure out how to post some photos of portfolio work here on the blog. Don’t get your hopes up though. I’ve got homework over the holidays too. Re-doing several design projects (translates to Better Grade). Downloading two new computer programs and getting somewhat acquainted with them. Continuing to learn about the wonders (and complexities) of Photoshop, Illustrator, InDesign, and AutoCAD. And I get to visit with my dear friend Carolyn from Taos, who’s coming to hang out in the city.

Ciao for now.

Merry Christmas Everyone! It’s Christmas Eve and I hope everyone gets exactly what they want!

The end of the semester was wonderful. I got through it and I’m grateful. I haven’t looked for my grades yet although I bet they’re posted online by now. Not really here for the grades unless the grades keep me from being here. One must maintain a 3.0 to stay…

The presentation of drawings to my professor was uneventful. He works at Diller Scofidio + Renfro (http://www.dsrny.com), a very prestigious design firm in Chelsea, with many wonderful buildings and spaces to their credit. They won the President’s Award from the AIA (American Institute of Architecture) for their design of the Highline, a wonderful park created on what was once a long section of elevated train tracks above the Meat Packing District. I haven’t been there yet but I’ve heard nice things about it, and seen a bit of it on the internet.

Then I walked through Chelsea and stopped in several galleries before heading to the AutoCAD presentation at HOK, another powerhouse design firm. I saw works by Mike Kelley at Gaggosian Gallery (http://www.gagosian.com/exhibitions/2009-11-07_mike-kelley/#/images/1/) and was not impressed. Gratuitous pornographic images don’t impress me anymore. They used to, but not anymore. The work was cliché and boring, and probably very expensive. I didn’t ask.

Next I stopped in the David Zwirner gallery and saw a retrospective of Dan Flavin’s work (http://www.davidzwirner.com/). Flavin made the fluorescent light fixture famous in the sixties by using it exclusively to create art. He stacked and layered multiple fixtures in rows like soldiers, on angles in corners, in row after row of window-like box frames. And then he put various colors of tubes in the fixtures, creating these amazing rooms of light. The entire gallery was filled with his work and it was amazing. There is an extension to the gallery in what looks like a very large garage/warehouse space next door to the main space. It is filled with many vertical fixtures lined up around the three walls (the fourth wall holds two large double garage doors). The fixtures alternate gawdy gold and pink fluorescent tubes and the room glows with an indescribable light. Stunning. I was blown away.

And at 4:30 I was in the offices of HOK (http://www.hok.com/), one of the two largest design firms in the world. I was duly impressed with these folks. We got a tour of the facilities, an introduction by our professor, and then a presentation by the lead design manager. He’s the one who makes sure all the work coming out of the NY office is up to the standards for which HOK is known. I had not considered working for a “corporate” design team until I met these folks. Very impressed. Our class usually meets from 4 til 7, and we didn’t finish there at HOK until after 8, and I was not the least bit perturbed by staying late. Frankly, I enjoyed every minute of being there.

Thursday morning last week was my final presentation for the semester, Lighting Design. It was an unusual class in that I think I was the only one in class who really enjoyed being there, and who got something tangible from the professor. I have begun to experience the phenomenon of light in a brand new way, and I have a whole new appreciation for the application of light when creating a space. Two part class. First half of the semester we were to create a container for light that had no more than three sources of light, each of which had to be controllable. Daylight could be one of the sources. Second half of the semester was designed to make the light container inhabitable. To make the container architectural. Really fascinating study. Our presentation was in PowerPoint format, digital, and was to include what could be called a schematic package of the light/architecture created. I chose to use the works of Larry Bell, Dan Graham, and Donald Judd as my inspiration, my precedents. I created a square box of plexiglass panels, some one-way mirrors, some two-way mirrors, and some translucent and transparent panels, and inserted Christmas twinkle lights behind a panel of one-way mirror and two small halogen lights behind one translucent panel. Then I suspended a panel of two-way mirror at a 45-degree angle in the middle of the box. This created multiple reflections of lights and the illusion that one didn’t really know where the lights were. Fascinating. That was the first part. Then I had to find an architectural setting where I could place this box, and make it big enough to walk through. I found a glass box sitting at the southern edge of Central Park, with a big apple hanging inside it. The Apple Store proved to be a really great place to Photoshop my light onto. Here’s where a photo or two would be really nice, huh? I’ll see what I can do, tomorrow. It’s Christmas Eve!

Due to my own pre-occupied state of mind about a month ago I asked my sister to get me a ticket for Chicago flying out on December 17th. I had thought my last classes would be finished December 16th. Ooops. Screwed up. Final class was actually Thursday December 17th at 5pm. I was able to deliver my drawings to the professor at DS+R (see above) and I missed my 9am flight because I was presenting the final for Lighting Design at exactly the same time. Stan was gracious to drive me to La Guardia (Thank You Stan!) right after class and I got on standby for a 1pm flight. I arrived at O’Hare at about 2:30 CST and was picked up by Mom and niece Taylor. Had a really great visit with Mom and her four cats in Oak Park. We hung out, went shopping, made cd’s of old photos for my cousin to add to a family photo website she’s creating, and we went to the Art Institute and saw some really fabulous art, taking the train into the city on a snowy/rainy/slushy kind of day perfect for a museum. I slept late every day and ate like a pig, two things I rarely get to do while here in grad school. Yippeee! And I read a book and a half just because I wanted to, not because I needed to! Sweet.

I took the Green Line and then the Blue Line to get to O’Hare from Mom’s (Taylor was working and I didn’t want Mom to get lost driving home from the airport). The plane was delayed almost 2 hours. Don’t know why. It was snowing in Chicago but not enough to ground planes. Finally got the NY about 7 or 8 (can’t remember!) and met up with Carolyn, who had arrived several hours prior and was waiting for me. We got into Brooklyn and found her little rental. Got her settled in and I got home late, about 11! We had had a foot of snow in New York while I was in Chicago. It is lovely and f&%$ing cold! The wind chill feels polar. Stings like fire!

We have had a great visit so far and many things planned for the two weeks she’ll be here. For example: last night we went to hear/see Offenbach’s “Tales of Hoffman” at the Metropolitan Opera. God it was delicious. It’s a brand new production (premiered December 3rd) with incredible sets, gorgeous costumes, innovative staging and some of the most glorious singing I’ve heard since the last time I was at the Met. www.metopera.org, if you’re interested. Absolutely delicious. The tenor lead, Hoffman, was sung by Joseph Calleja, from Malta, and his tone reminds me of Jussi Bjorling, crystal clear and captivating. The first lover, Olympia, was to be sung by Kathleen Kim, who was out ill. She was replaced by Rachele Gilmore and made her Met debut last night. AND WHAT A DEBUT! She brought the house to its knees. The role is coloratura and the character is a mechanical doll, a ballerina, and she was incredible! I expect to hear lots more of her. It was an evening to be remembered for a long time.

Today we decided (I suggested) we go into Manhattan and have a bowl of clam chowder at the Oyster Bar beneath Grand Central Station. It’s a great place, noisy and raucous, and the food is wonderful. We had thought about how crazy midtown might be on Christmas Eve and after lunch we decided to walk north up Fifth Avenue and watch the skaters on the rink at Rockefeller Center. My, it was busy. Not quite as many people as the Fourth of July, but I guess I should get used to this, huh, since I live here now, right? I kept looking for the gold statue guy, you know, kind of floating on his side, holding up the world. I couldn’t figure out where he’d gone until I realized that the huge Christmas tree was sitting where he should have been. I guess he was cold so they put him in a warehouse somewhere to warm up…

We walked across Fifth Avenue and did just a tiny bit of window shopping and sightseeing at Saks Fifth Avenue. Why not, right? Such a glorious place. Someday, after grad school, I’ll get to shop there… For now I get to window-shop there, okay?

Tomorrow we’re staying close to Carolyn’s home here and going to BAM to see George Clooney in “Up in the Air”, and then having leftover Greek food for Christmas dinner. Fun. And really great company. More later…

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

I’m not sure which is more exhausting: graduate school at Pratt, or After Christmas Sale shopping at Bloomingdale’s. I know which is more fun!

What a whirlwind of activity Carolyn and I have created this past week, and we’ve got another week to go!

I highly recommend “Up in the Air”. It’s classic Clooney and he’s looking better than ever. What a smile. The story will leave you, well, you know, up in the air. It’s just not your light-hearted Christmas fare. Lovely and depressing. The cinematography is stunning.

The next day we went to see the New York City Ballet perform George Balanchine’s excellent production of “The Nutcracker”. We had excellent seats, surrounded by thousands of children (and their parents) dressed for holiday cheer. There was only one screaming baby, but it didn’t last long. (I swear it was too far away for me to reach and I’m not admitting to anything. I take the Fifth.) It was an incredibly beautiful production of the classic Russian fairy tale. I thought the young lady playing Maria (the central figure) was slightly too young and too small and I was thoroughly impressed with everything. I’d never been to the David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center and I was moved by the sheer beauty of it. I’ve seen “Nutcracker” a dozen times but never as good as this.

Sunday and we had brunch at BB King’s Blues Club on 42nd Street, right in Times Square. The Harlem Gospel Choir sings there every Sunday, and probably more, and they were rocking the house with the Lord. It was almost but not quite a revival meeting. Perhaps more like a Broadway Revival Meeting, just slightly commercial, and in the basement. The food was great, especially since it was “All You Can Eat” (which I did), and southern home cooking; grits, BBQ chicken, biscuits, scrambled eggs, rice with andouille sausage, and I forget what all. I was gorged and so we decided to walk downtown and perhaps catch another movie, since it was only about 3:30 when we left BB King’s.

Strolling down 8th Avenue toward what I believed was going to be Houston St. and a movie theatre, we got as far as Madison Square Garden (that’s 42nd down to 34th, not that far ‘cause it was COLD!) and decided to hit the subway. Carolyn had googled several theaters and I thought I knew where one of them was. I was wrong. New York is such a big place and I’ve been here just four months, and I get lost. I don’t mind getting lost by myself but I get embarrassed when I’m the tour guide and I get both of us lost. Hmmmm.

So we got off the subway near the World Trade Center site. The construction is on-going with the new Freedom Tower but the feelings are still very raw. It’s a difficult place to walk past without having some feelings. Anyway, we got to the theater that Stan had taken me to years ago and they didn’t have “A Single Man” playing, which is what we thought we might want to see. So, asking directions, walking back the way we came, and losing the trail of the subway once again, and re-tracing our steps, and finally finding W. Houston and the Angelika Cinemas, and sitting and enjoying “A Single Man”, the new movie starring Colin Firth and Julianne Moore. It’s beautiful and depressing. Really beautiful because Tom Ford, of Gucci, and more recently of Tom Ford, directed it. The colors on the screen are evocative of the time in which the movie happens, somewhere in the early sixties. The screenplay is adapted from a story by Christopher Isherwood and now I need to read it. Take Kleenex, and go see it.

I’ve also read a quick book that Carolyn had borrowed from our friend Edy in Taos. It’s called “The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society”, by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows, and it’s delightful. I highly recommend it. The story is portrayed through a collection of letters to and from several characters, and describes the aftermath of the German Occupation of Guernsey, an island south of England in the English Channel. I read the book in two days, and although I do read quickly I could not put it down.

Monday was spent on campus in the studio re-working a project for Design Studio. I am re-working two projects from this past semester in hopes of raising my grade therein. I missed studio when Dad passed away, and I did really poorly on the juried presentation three days after I returned from the funeral. My professor graciously allowed me to take an Incomplete for Studio until I re-work this project and another one, which I’ll have done before school starts back up January 18th. Did I mention that graduate school at Pratt is challenging? I am not one to lie down and take it, so I’ll get back in the studio and do more, and better, and then more and better!

I made spaghetti at my place for us on Monday night, and we watched a video that my roommate has. “Julie and Julia” is fabulous.

While in Chicago Mom bought me several books, one of which I started reading last night. It’s called “Architecture Depends” by Jeremy Till. He is the Dean of Architecture and Built Environment at the University of Westminster and a partner at Sarah Wigglesworth Architects, and has received numerous awards for his work. I’m barely 50 pages into this interesting piece and I’m totally enjoying it. He is de-constructing the scholastic and professional vacuum in which architects learn and work and asking a ton of questions that I myself would ask if I could present them as coherently as he does. He questions the academies of architecture, the manner in which we learn design, and the very structure of the architecture profession. It’s fascinating. I’m going to recommend it to my classmates and my faculty! As soon as I finish it and see where he takes this.

I can’t remember yesterday because today was a whirlwind of shopping amongst all the crazy sales!

Bullet Points, so I don’t forget what we’ve done…

Alvin Ailey dance performance
Dinner at Scopello times two
Dinner with Madeline at her place
Walking through the rain/sleet and then back to Pratt for the calliope concert.
Brunch at Cafe Lafayette, again!
Figuring out the March visit and what to see/hear/enjoy
Planning a trip to Boston and Laura Beth’s home
Applying for work at a local independent bookstore
Getting ready for the new semester
Figuring out where the grades are online and seeing that I have a 3.9 GPA!
Avenue Q!
Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

Downloading Google SketchUp and learning it in a week or less (yuppers)
Working in the studio to finish the residence and restaurant re-do
Getting AutoCAD to work on my computer

Making time to write something for myself in a separate journal
Calling friends and making up for being less than communicative for the past four months

Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Happy New Year Everyone!

Okay. Carolyn left yesterday morning, early, and arrived home safely last night. We had a great visit and I have several more items to share now that I have more time to write and to let my thoughts wander.

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, under the artistic direction of Judith Jamison performed at New York City Center Theater last Saturday and we had front row balcony seats. And it was glorious. The dancers performed a collection of excerpts from Ailey’s most notable works: ‘Revelations’, ‘Blues Suite’, The Lark Ascending’, ‘Night Creature’, and ‘Cry’, among others. Incredible, beautiful, and not enough words to describe how they dance.

Sunday we saw “Avenue Q” at The New World Stages near Broadway. I was delighted to see what I’ve been listening to on my iPod for a while. I forget where I downloaded the music from but seeing the cast playing and manipulating the muppets was enchanting. Even though the actors are right there the muppets really do come to life, and watching two muppets have sex on stage is quite something. Go see it if you dare!

I think it was Monday when we took Carolyn’s things to the UPS store to ship. Considering the additional costs of checking baggage these days it’s much smarter to ship your things in a box. It saves time and money at the airport! I shipped almost everything I have here through UPS (or actually, Maureen shipped things for me as I could afford it! Thanks Mo!) And then we walked through downtown Brooklyn and did a bit more window shopping. And then off to see Terry Gilliam’s “Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus”. Very interesting. I had no idea that Heath Ledger had acted in this movie and he did a really fine job, with Colin Farrell, Jude Law, Johnny Depp, Christopher Plummer. I recommend it. The CGI is fantastic.

Scopello is a lovely Italian restaurant on Lafayette Street named for a town in Sicily. My friend Madeline has actually been to the town, took a picture of it and presented the photo to the owners here in Brooklyn. Nice, huh! You might be thinking spaghetti and meatballs and I’m talking homemade lobster ravioli and Osso Bucco to die for. And we liked it so much we went back for more on Monday, having a lovely homemade pasta and meat sauce and a really rich gnocci with gorgonzola and mascarpone sauce. And naturally, something really light for dessert, Tirami Su. I have gained weight over the holidays, what with Mom and Carolyn feeding me delicious things. I now have the energy to go on and start a new semester.

There’s this really tiny restaurant called Café Lafayette just off Fulton Street near BAM where we had a beginning brunch and an ending brunch. They have just 24 seats, and if they filled those seats there’d be no room for the wait staff. I’m not kidding here. It’s in the garden level of an old brownstone and is rather French, not terribly, but just rather. And it’s lovely. And Delicious! First time I had Eggs Benedict made with smoked salmon rather than ham, and Carolyn had Hanger Steak and Eggs. Mmmmmm. And the last time I had a Chicken and Vegetable Crepe and Carolyn had something delicious looking that I can’t remember now. I think it had eggs and home style potatoes but I can’t remember what it was! That’s probably because I was so enthralled with what I was eating that I wasn’t noticing her food.

Monday, yesterday and today I have spent time in the studio on campus re-working one of the two projects I’m re-doing for Design Studio. I mentioned that the GPA is currently at 3.90, and I am re-doing these two projects with the intent of keeping the GPA near to that score. I was grateful to my professor who suggested I take an incomplete in Design and re-do the two projects. I have had a challenging time “getting it” here at Pratt. Interior Design here is much more about architecture than about surface decoration. While I have designed two homes from scratch I have not thought of my designs in architectural, conceptual terms. That may seem incongruous, and perhaps it is. Nevertheless, I have had a steep learning curve here for the first semester. I was quite pleased to get an A in AutoCAD, which I had feared might be much lower. I also got an A in Lighting Design, for which I’m grateful. I know I earned that one, and I learned a lot about light, and the phenomenon of light there. I was initially surprised with the A- in Architectural Drawing. I had thought that class would be my skate class, and perhaps that’s what I did… skate, too much. I believe I could have pushed a little harder and gotten an A. And you know what? I’m not at all ashamed of an A-. So, pray that I’m getting it in Design, and that I keep as close as possible to that 3.90. I appreciate your thoughts there for me.

I’m meeting with my professor next Tuesday to review the re-done Residence project, and my initial sketches for the re-doing of the Restaurant project. Wish me luck!

Saturday I’m heading to Harlem with Marianne to see the Eero Saarinen Retrospective at the Museum of the City of New York. Saarinen designed the TWA terminal at JFK Airport, the Tulip Table, and many other beautiful things. Here’s a link for you:

http://www.mcny.org/exhibitions/current/eero-saarinen.html

I’m excited. And I’ve got a ton of things I want to accomplish before the semester starts, so I’m posting this and getting back to work. Enjoy. Come and visit. Call first for availability… Ciao.

Installment Thirteen

Friday, November 27, 2009

The day after Thanksgiving and I still have lots to be thankful for. Grad School, being alive, being 52, being.

It’s been a challenging first semester at school. I think I might be getting the hang of things, although that feeling could change in a heartbeat. I think we all start things with certain expectations, regardless of what we may tell ourselves and others about being objective and unbiased. I have come here thinking I know some things about interior design, and perhaps I do. And perhaps I am just now beginning to learn what I don’t know, which makes for a challenging place emotionally and psychically. There’s a certain comfort in believing that one knows something and a rather large discomfort in discovering that that knowledge might just be illusory.

I think grad school is like that. It makes me think hard about a lot of stuff, and then I change my mind about what I know and what I might think I know and about that stuff of which I haven’t a clue. There’s a lot of the last bit here.

And then there are all those things that curious minds want to know but because we are in grad school we haven’t the time, energy, or money to investigate and learn and experience. That’s a drag. Being in New York is incredible. Being in New York is surprising. Being in New York can be frustrating (and I’ve gone into that subject in depth in prior blogs so I won’t bore you with more depressing details (like the eternal gray skies)).

Last Monday about 15 of us first year students had the opportunity to visit and tour the cafeteria of the Conde Nast Publications building at 4 Times Square. I have a friend who works there and he invited me to lunch there a while ago, and I asked if my class might get to tour the place. The reason for the tour is that the cafeteria was designed by Frank Gehry, a very famous architect who usually does large buildings (the Guggenheim Bilbao, the Disney Theatre in LA, the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis, to name a few). He makes these sweeping wavy wrinkly constructions that seem to defy the notions of what a building is and how it’s constructed. The cafeteria is on the fourth floor of a large modern skyscraper right in the heart of Times Square. It is an amazing space built of large glass panels, birch veneered wood panels, and blue titanium panels that swirl through space in ways you can’t imagine (and that I can’t photograph to show you as they wouldn’t let me). The panels of glass are torqued and twisted in graceful arabesques (hard to believe, I know) and suspended from a system of stainless steel pins at the ceiling and the bottoms of the walls. The room moves. And for all the hardness of the interior surfaces the acoustics are wonderful. There’s not a lot of bounce and echo because each blue titanium panel has been pierced about a jillion times with pinholes that are barely visible. Acoustical felt-like material is placed behind each panel creating an absorbing quality that makes the room very quiet. And the blue is similar to the color of gunmetal. It’s that dark rich steel blue like a bespoke suit from Saville Row.

The private dining rooms are equally beautiful but without the blue titanium. They are lined with floor to ceiling panels of pale birch and floor to ceiling panels of twisted, frosted glass, suspended from pins. Beautiful, understated elegance. The glass walls are back-lit, making the room glow.

From the Conde Nast Building several of us went to MoMA to see the new Bauhaus exhibit. On the way our professor suggested we stop in a building to see its lobby. 505 Fifth Avenue. When you come you must see it. The lobby was designed by James Turrell, a well-known artist (google his work at PS1 called “The Meeting Room”). The lobby, called “Plain Dress” is extremely simple, a hallway really, that is created entirely with light, and the light changes by means of LED’s that change colors very slowly so that the change is hypnotic and mesmerizing. We stood in awe and wonder for several minutes. Our prof said it’s really best to view after dark. I’ll be back.

Saturday night. Short day, just 8 hours in the studio – 3 in the computer lab working on AutoCAD homework, and 5 in the studio drawing the library project for Design I. Although I have more work on the computer at home tonight, merging photos of my light container with photos of the Apple Store on Central Park South. Lighting Design project, half the semester grade. “A” so far in there. It took me 6 hours to merge four daylight photos. The prof liked them a lot and suggested that I should take night photos and do it again. Such is grad school. Kind of like ceremony. When you do something really well they (whoever they are) want you to do it again. When you do something poorly they (there they are again) want you to do it again. I’m strongly considering applying for a teaching job here at Pratt when I graduate. Revenge could be really fun, don’t you think?

I had a lovely Thanksgiving and I hope each of you did too. Many blessings and much gratitude. I celebrated 19 years in one of my programs earlier this month. Amazing gift and miracle. And I had a delicious meal with a classmate on Thursday. We opted for Italian, delivered. It was his birthday also so we had a double celebration. His partner is in Montreal, where they live, so it was nice to help celebrate a friend’s birthday. And then we worked on a research project for Design I, that we had presented about a week ago. The teacher was impressed and asked if we would adjust a couple of things and present it in bound form, a book as it were. Comes to 88 pages. We, along with a third classmate, created that over the course of about a week all told. Three almost all-nighters in a row. This is a challenging program. Have I mentioned that lately?

Friday all day in the studio and tomorrow as well. It’s why I’m here.

There’s not a lot of news here. Frankly I don’t have a tv and I don’t want one, nor do I have time to sit around and watch the news anyway. Study and produce. And spend more money on art supplies.

I did go see a movie Wednesday night, although it might have been Tuesday. The days run together and I can’t remember where I am or what time it is, especially since it’s dark at 4:30 pm here now. I saw “Coco, before Chanel” and I strongly recommend it for you fashion-forward franco-philes, and anybody else who loves Audrey Tatou. She is most remembered for “Amelie” several years ago. I would go see it again as it was BEAUTIFUL. Hopefully you can go see it and we’ll compare notes on which scene was our favorite. I happened to really love the expansive vistas of the French countryside, but I like the chateau interiors as well.

I’ve been feeling rather homesick, especially since Beverly has called when the snow has fallen in the mountains over Santa Fe (I begged her to call every time it snows). And the Taos Ski Valley opened Thursday and I missed the powder and the shwooshing and the falling on my ass. I haven’t looked at the ski valley website because I’d just get depressed…

My dear sweet friend Maureen sent me a care package (hint, hint) a while ago with a posole kit and some other really good goodies from NM. I cooked it up over the course of two days and had my first delicious chicken posole last night, followed by lunch this afternoon and another large portion this evening. I’ll have some tomorrow and Monday as well because you can’t get enough of a good thing. THANK YOU MAUREEN!!!

I went to Trader Joes last weekend for the first time since arriving in Brooklyn. It’s downtown off the B61 buss, which is the slowest bus around. The B61 terminates at the IKEA store, which may add to my repellant feelings for the bus and its route. Anyway, I found a little can of Hatch green chili on the shelf there. I’m having it on eggs for breakfast tomorrow. Yippee!

Several friends have called (and I love you for calling) and have asked when the next installment of this blog is coming out. I reminded them that I wrote last time that I may not post again until Christmas, and they didn’t believe me. Which is why I’m writing here now. And this time I promise that I won’t be writing again until Christmas break, probably from Oak Park, Illinois. I’ll be there for five days visiting Mom and sister and niece and nephews, and maybe do some window shopping and for sure sleep as late as I can every day, and go to bed early because I can.

And my dear friend Carolyn is flying in to La Guardia the same day I return, to stay and visit and hang out in the city, and I’m really excited about seeing her and catching up. We’re going to celebrate Christmas together and watch the skaters at Rockefeller Center, and window shop and go to some museums and cook for each other. I’m happy.

Enough blog for tonight. Photoshop is calling my name. More tomorrow, or maybe I’ll just post this puppy like it is. Ciao

Sunday, November 29, 2009

The canned green chili from Trader Joe’s does not compare with my memories of fresh roasted, diced Green chili. Disappointed, forlorn and heading to the studio. And my dear friend Barbara Masters is coming to NY next week to visit! Yippee!

grad school whining, with violins please

Installment Twelve
October 4, 2009

Dad died Friday evening after Mary Ann and my sister Kim asked the doctors to remove the life support systems. He passed peacefully about 5:30 in the afternoon. I got there to Nashville Saturday afternoon. The visitation is Monday afternoon/evening and the services are Tuesday morning at 11. I’ll be back in Brooklyn by 9 Tuesday evening.

It has been quite an adventure. I spoke with Dad last Friday evening. He had had a swollen leg for a week before Mary Ann had convinced him to get to the doctor. The local clinic insisted he get to the hospital right away. He had developed a clot in his right leg. The local hospital began administering heavy duty, fast-acting blood thinners immediately and sent him home. Sunday morning Mary Ann heard Dad fall out of bed and land between the bed and the bedside table. She called 911 immediately, knowing that Dad had had a stroke. The local hospital recommended Dad be transferred to St. Thomas Hospital in downtown Nashville right away because of the neurosurgical expertise available there. The surgeons removed the hemorrhage and gave Mary Ann the news that Dad should have a good chance of recovery, with speech recovery almost immediately and with physical therapy he would overcome the left-side paralysis soon.

That was last Sunday. The doctors did a CT scan on Monday and discovered that the hemorrhaging had returned as large as before. They changed meds to reduce the swelling on the brain and gave Dad heavy sedation to lessen the stress on his whole system. The prognosis was not good. The doctors suggested that we wait till Wednesday and do another CT scan.

They had to reduce the sedation to perform the CT scan. They determined at that time that Dad was unresponsive in upper nervous system function, which means that his heart and lungs were still working but everything else was gone. The doctors suggested another CT scan for Friday.

That CT scan showed no improvement and no chance of recovery. Mary Ann and Kim asked the doctors to remove the life support system that afternoon.

So, I’m here in Nashville. Dad and Mary Ann had made all the funeral arrangements a number of years ago, which helped Mary Ann and Kim tremendously with all the decisions that needed to be made quickly. I’m still in shock. Kim’s children are flying in this noon. I am working on class-work as I have a major restaurant project due this Friday, about 30% of my grade in Design Studio. The faculty has been very understanding and compassionate. It’s such a tricky thing getting to a certain age where decisions and work can get done in spite of the emotional turmoil. I just got the student loan money Friday, which allowed me to fly out so quickly. I hadn’t been able to buy a mattress until last Saturday.

I’m grateful that, at this age I’ve developed some healthy work habits and time management habits that are supporting my studying and schoolwork. And I was paying attention when every professor suggested that we spend all our time in studio, working, producing, studying. Frankly it’s the opportunity to work with and around my classmates that allows me to be more creative, more instinctual, more expansive. So far, the latest I’ve stayed working in studio is about 11pm. I grant you that I had started the day at about 7am, which does make for a long day. Okay. I didn’t come to grad school to learn how to take it easy, did I? I suspect the end of this week will be a bit long and stressful.

It’s Sunday the 11th of October, almost over, and I have so many things to write here about the last week and all that’s occurred and all my emotions and reactions to everything and I’m exhausted. Thursday I spent the entire evening in the studio, no sleep. And I’m still trying to catch up. Off to bed. Maybe some more tomorrow.
Ciao.

Tuesday morning, October 13, 2009

Several friends have written asking for updates and news, so I’ll work a bit on the blog before Design this morning. We’re presenting the first pin-up of a new project, a top-floor residence with penthouse in the building in which we last created a restaurant on the ground and cellar floors. The pace here is grueling. I did finally take all of Saturday off and worked at NOT thinking about anything school related, although I did think about design. I put my own little room together a bit better. Laundry first, as it had been two weeks and I was past due. Then I met with several friends who were helping another friend move out of her condo. Karin wrote last evening from on board the flight ready to take off to Belfast, and her new adventure. She worked for a publishing firm here for eight of ten years (I think) and was let go last January. After a long struggle she was awarded her severance package and finally able to sublet her place. She is now pursuing her new dream of opening a bookstore in Belfast. Congratulations Karin!

So, I got two nice tables and two wicker chairs and two shelves from Karin, and voila, I have an apartment. I have been trying to get to Lowe’s for several weeks as I have a 10% discount coupon. I have wanted and needed a set of steel wire shelves like restaurant kitchen’s use for storage in my apartment. They’re cheaper than buying a dresser, and I like the NY-kind-of-industrial look. Our apartment has a little-old-lady shopping-cart-on-wheels (blue) that I thought would hold the box of shelving nicely on the subway trip home.

The amazing thing about this city is that everything is here, everything you can think of or imagine or desire is here. The challenge is getting what you want for a reasonable price, and then getting it home, and then up the stairs. Perhaps this only happens for grad students on really conservative budgets. I doubt it. Getting whatever you’ve purchased home is just the first trick. There are numerous transportation opportunities available: subway, bus, taxi, walking, bicycling, car service, limo, each with its own cost and flexibility and schedule. Walking from Lowe’s was not an option as it’s in Red Hook, about a mile and a half from my apartment. The subway goes right there, with about a five block walk on one end and a two block walk on the other. Perfect. Taxies are astronomical and I’m not a Rockefeller or a Mellon. I don’t own a bicycle and it might be difficult to carry the shelves. Buses are tricky because of the carrying-on part of the equation. The shelving is almost as big unassembled as I am tall, so I knew transport would be an issue. Car services and limos are lovely if you have resources.

Walked to the subway wheeling the little-old-lady-shopping-cart behind me, feeling grand because I’m going to get my stuff off the floor where it’s been for about 7 weeks now, and up on shelves where it belongs. Yea! Got the cart through the subway turnstile and onto the train. Three stops later the train stops and the conductor says “last stop”. Excuse me? Last Stop? We’re only at Bergen and I need to go to Smith and 9th where the Lowe’s is. Shit. Track repairs on the Culver Bridge overpass, right above the Lowe’s store where I need to go. The MTA (Metropolitan Transportation Authority) has made numerous provisions for its passengers, like providing shuttle buses that carry folks right along the diverted subway route only at street level. This is going to be tricky now, hauling the large and heavy shelving box from Lowe’s to the bus to the subway and then home, trickier by the minute. While on the bus I call my buddy Stan who has volunteered on many occasions to help me out. He has a car! And he needs a shower curtain from Lowe’s, he’ll meet me there and help me haul the shelving home. Alas, he calls back a moment later leaving a message stating that he feels a bit psycho today and has decided to go for a run instead of shopping at Lowe’s. I text him back that a psycho shopping for a shower curtain should call Anthony Perkins first.

Got to Lowe’s. Found the shelving. Wouldn’t fit in the little-old-lady-shopping-cart. Shit. Plan B has not been thought out, and as I’m a grown up in grad school, I should be able to figure this out. Hire a car, buy a hand truck/dolly, ride the bus, what? More later as I’ve got to go to class…

Tuesday evening.
There’s something really something about Crit. It’s where we, the students, get to present our ideas, drawings, models, plans, sections, diagrams, etc., to the two professors who critique us. It’s called Joint Crit because there are two sections of students presenting. It’s our initial crit for this new project; a residence on the fifth and penthouse floors of the building we created a restaurant for last project. Crit can be grueling and brutal. The professors and jurors can be very direct and cutting, and hopefully, constructive in their criticism. It’s not always pleasant. It’s exhausting, especially when we’ve mostly spent the past several days and nights getting ready for crit, which means really long days and sleepless nights. Actually Thursday last week was my first overnighter in the studio; finishing as much work as I could before Friday morning, having missed four days of critical studio time while I was in Nashville. It apparently wasn’t worth the effort. One juror suggested that I was too personal in my presentation, that I was offering things that I liked (duh?). I was defended by my professor by her saying that we didn’t have an assigned client, that I was the client. Thank you. The last juror offered that my restaurant didn’t have any heart and soul. Ouch! What does that mean? Can you restate that constructively, or is that something one of your professors said of your work when you attended Pratt for grad school (he is an alumn)? Such is design school. Are you jealous yet? Do you wanna come to NY and play in art class?

There are very few opportunities for getting out and having fun in the city. (I’m lying.) (This is the Poor Pitiful Me Blog post, okay. Bear with me and send food.) My journeys to Manhattan have been school-related, almost exclusively. I go to several different stores to buy art supplies more cheaply than I can get here on campus, or that aren’t available on campus. This past week I bought about $100 worth of supplies for a light container project for Lighting Design. That’s just one class, one project. And $100 per project is about par for the course, for each course. Sure glad I like rice and beans and peanut butter.

Tonight I’m waiting for a private session with my design professor to get feedback on where I stand in the coursework. It’s about methodology. How do we “design” a space? By what means and why do we reach the decisions we make? And most importantly, WHY?

The pace is fast, more than fast, it’s break-neck. And since we students all live in the vacuum of school we can do all the things every professor wants for every class and then some. And we can excel at all of them! Whew!

More later.

October 21, 2009
Wednesday evening

Wow! Can you believe that it’s midterms already? I’ve taken my first exam, AutoCAD, this evening and I believe I did very well. I have a presentation tomorrow in Lighting Design that I’m pretty happy with. It’s the light container mentioned above, made of seven pieces of plexiglass, several of which are one way mirrors, with two different light sources. And this evening I’ve got to create the PowerPoint presentation of the process of making the light thingie. We get a take-home exam in Lighting Design that we get to work on for two weeks since the professor is not here next week for class. Probably means the test will be really intense (insane). I have three or four drawings to do for tomorrow’s Architectural Drawing class at 5PM. They do keep us hopping here. And that’s not including Design Studio. We don’t have midterm exams there but we do have to produce a shitload of work, drawings (plans, sections, elevations and perspectives), models, concepts, material choices, and any other pertinent background information. It’s a lot. Which is the biggest reason I haven’t blogged in ages. No time. And if I have time, I’m sleeping. Thank God for moisturizer because the bags under the eyes are not pretty.

The AutoCAD midterm was pretty fun actually because Anthony encouraged us to find a copy of it from last semester and to practice. I did and I DID! I re-drew the cathedral plan eight times from start to finish. The first time it took me 3 hours and 15 minutes. The exam this afternoon took just under an hour. Progress sometimes leads to perfection (at least that’s what I hope I did).

It may be very difficult for many of you to believe that I have sunk to the frozen dinner subset of society. Time and money have forced me to subsist on eggs and toast for breakfast, a protein bar or a peanut butter sandwich for lunch, and a frozen dinner for my evening meal. After working in the studio or in class for about 12 hours per day on average, the last thing I want to think about is what’s for supper. Now it’s easy. Reach in the freezer and randomly pick a box. Nuke it and voila, especialite du jour. All I need now is a Barco-Lounger…in naugahyde. I’m actually eating a Stouffer’s Veal Parmigiana right now and being very careful not to get any tomato sauce on the keyboard. And it’s my second frozen dinner tonight. Have you seen the portions on frozen dinners lately? Mighty small for a long day’s work. I eat two. And then perhaps some ice cream (freezer, right?) only if I’ve gotten it on sale from the bodega.

Remember that light container I mentioned earlier? That, among other things, is another reason why I’m eating frozen dinners. The materials alone for the light were about $140, and that doesn’t include the cost of taking the subway ($2.25 each way) into Manhattan to Canal Plastics and Canal Lighting for parts. For example, the 12”x12” two-way mirror panels, 1/8” thick, are $14.95 each. I needed three for the design. And don’t tell me to design more cheaply. It doesn’t happen in a school like this. The faculty expect deep pockets and fabulous designs. And frankly, things cost more in NY. Having art supplies is more important than eating, right? For those of you thinking about Christmas gifts, send gift cards from the Associated grocery store chain!

I’ve asked both Adrian and Alison to have Adrian cook a duck and freeze it and FedEx it, but I haven’t seen one yet… Maureen sent me a lovely care package with green chile powder and a Santa Fe posole dinner kit, along with some pinon! Yippee! Food is the fastest way to my heart baby!

About once a week I stop at the Thai restaurant and get something. It’s less expensive than two frozen dinners and I get to be in a social setting other than the classroom!

You might remember that I was wheat- and sugar-free for a while there. Not any more. It’s more affordable to eat white bread. (Can you hear the violins playing softly in the background?) (Such a sad, sad song, huh?)

And then there’s Design Studio. We’re designing a residence and I thought I knew what I was doing designing residences, at least I thought I did. Apparently not. My critiques fluctuate between “Hmmmm”, and “Great.” And there’s no real in between. The hard part to understand is that the “bad” critiques are actually more informative and instructive. At least I have some sense of direction. The good critiques leave me wondering what to do next. Very distressing. This past Tuesday was not a good critique. Sometimes I wonder if they just want us to go home. It’s not just me, either. Almost everybody in class (nine of us) get “bad” critiques regularly, about every other session, leaving me to wonder about bi-polar diagnoses. And it’s not just our section of nine students. Seems like it happens across the board among our 56 or so students in the first year program (most of whom were here last year in their qualifying year). It is difficult, but not impossible, to keep one’s spirits up and feeling encouraged, and remembering that I am choosing to be here, and choosing to start over, and choosing to learn anew. And part of that learning anew is forgetting every blasted thing I thought I ever knew before, and frankly, that’s the hardest part of all. Learning AutoCAD, while difficult, is easier than forgetting how to design or to decorate. It’s tricky, and sometimes painful. The faculty tell us over and over that it’s not personal, and that’s hard to remember when a fellow classmate is weeping in the bathroom because of a particularly brutal critique. I’m glad I wait and cry at home in bed while watching YouTube clips or Brokeback Mountain one more time.

Enough blathering. I’ve got work to do and it’s almost 8PM. Back to the drawing board, really, except that I’ll work on the computer to create the photo spread of the Lighting Design process. Sheesh. Ciao Bellas.

Dad

Installment Eleven

September 18, 2009

Perhaps I’ve already started an entry here and I’ll continue anyway. Such is the delirium of grad school, not knowing up from down or right from left unless it’s within the AutoCAD computer system, or on a drawing of a building/room/elevation/section/plan/etc. I am having a tremendous time working my ass off, literally. I suspect the loss of posterior padding is due to two major factors: lack of resources with which to eat (this includes but is not limited to lack of money, lack of time, lack of energy, lack of appropriate timing – eating at ten-fifteen is not a great idea), and no Adrian cooking for me! Alas, laddie, I miss ya, and yer cookin’.

This week has been rather intense. We had our first major juried critique this past Tuesday, a grueling five hour marathon of sometimes not-so-kind-and-gentle criticism of work on our first project. Our mission was to create a quiet place of reflection within a hospital in Pennsylvania, not really a chapel, but close enough. Intense. And Friday, today, we are presenting our concept collages, PowerPoint presentations, models, whatever, for our next project, a restaurant on W 26th in a bland and non-descript neighborhood. Our brief is to create a destination. Cuisine, concept, demographics, the works. That was between Tuesday and Friday. Are you getting the feeling for the intensity here? And that’s just the first class. I also have homework for Lighting Design, Architectural Drafting, and AutoCADD. Some of it is more difficult than the rest. And yes, I asked for this. And the bags under my eyes are proof positive that I’m living it. Gotta get to class to present this oversize board of photos and Xeroxes, hand-colored and cut and ripped and stuck in place. Ciao.

September 25, 2009

Already a week’s gone by and I have no record here to share with you what I’ve been doing. I know I’m working really hard, and I’m accomplishing things. What they are is a mystery.

Classes, studio and sleep are just about the extent of my life lately, at least for the past 4 weeks. Sometimes I think it’s been about a year since I arrived in Brooklyn. And then I feel like I haven’t really done all that much and that I haven’t been working hard enough. Such is my disease: it’s never enough and it can’t possibly be any more grand than what I’ve created.

I thoroughly enjoy being here. I am being pushed and stretched and tweaked and contorted in ways I can’t possibly describe, and can only perhaps show through the work that I’m producing. And then I think “I can’t possibly put my schoolwork on the website, or on the blog, or even on facebook”. One of the fascinating things about grad school is what I’m calling the “Ego Factor”. On the one hand, we, the students, are being groomed to be the next generation of the best, in whatever field we happen to choose to study, whether that’s interior design, or writing, or fine art, or library sciences. This school turns out “the Best”. At least that’s what many “critics” suggest about the alumni. Tricky thing is that most of the critics are alumni of this particular school. Now, having said that, many public entities claim that Pratt is the best. US News and World Report has printed that the interior design school here is the top-rated school in the country, the best, bar none, and perhaps even in the world. So, we are groomed and convinced that we are the best.

Then, on a personal level, we are critiqued in such brutal ways (although we are told that these critiques are not personal) that it feels like a huge crush to the ego. Frankly that’s not a bad thing, it’s just ego crushing. How do I know that I am the best if I can’t experience what it feels like to have a faculty member tell me what I don’t know? I am not complaining here, merely explaining the dichotomy of being in graduate school at this age. The kids here (that’s what I think them to be because in most cases I could be their father) are extremely talented, with many natural gifts that are being harnessed and evolved into grand proportion. I admire them greatly. And perhaps because I have a bit more life experience I can see how ego deflating some of the critiques might be.

I’m saying all this because even though I’m older and should know better I am taking the critiques all too personally. And I’m developing a new skin and thereby a new sense of self as accomplished and critical and qualified to practice what I’ve been practicing for the past ten or so years. It’s an intriguing situation I find myself in, especially because I choose to be here, and the faculty and the administration thought it would be good for me to be here, so on many levels I am grateful. And on many levels I am astounded that I am taking this so personally.

Of course it’s personal, and it’s expansive, and it’s over-whelming, and it’s exhilarating, and it terrifying, and it’s glorious.

Sometimes I just need to give myself a little pep talk. Thanks for listening.

Maybe I’ll put a photo or two of the design projects I’m working on… Maybe.

October 1, 2009

It’s still intense, for several completely new reasons. Dad, Hal Weakley, had a massive stroke this past Sunday. Mary Ann, his wife, knew what was happening and called 911 immediately. He was taken to the local hospital and then rushed into Nashville to St. Thomas Hospital where the neurosurgeon removed the hemorrhage and thought that Dad would have a really good chance at speech recovery soon and a longer time in rehab for the left side paralysis. My sister flew there from Chicago Sunday afternoon.

I had talked with Dad on Thursday, I think, and again on Friday because he had been hospitalized for a swollen leg. The leg had been swollen for a week and Mary Ann finally convinced him to go to the local clinic. He did, and they told him to get into the hospital right away as he had a clot. He went. They prescribed a fast-acting blood thinner that Mary Ann was to administer twice daily by shot, and a slower acting blood thinner to be taken by mouth for three to six months. He was released within twenty-four hours. I talked with him last on Friday evening as I was walking home from studio. He was in great spirits, laughing and jokingly complaining about Mary Ann giving him the shots.

Kim, my sister, called me Sunday morning with the news. I was working in the computer lab on campus and was pretty shaken. Kim is an RN and a midwife so I was glad she could fly down there to advocate for Dad and Mary Ann and perhaps get more accurate and complete information from the doctors.

I talked with Mary Ann also Sunday morning and she was worried but in good spirits. We have a good relationship so we were able to speak freely about what was going on with Dad, what care was being given, and how she was holding up with what was happening.

I’m really grateful that I was able to drive through Nashville on my way to New York in early August, so I got to see Dad and Mary Ann just six weeks ago. Dad was great, insisting that I watch him turn several pens and pencils on the lathe he bought years ago and that I helped to set up. I have the very first pen he turned, and a pen and pencil set that I watched him make in August. He was part of a club of sorts, from the local woodworking shop, where they would get together once a month or so and turn pens to send to the folks in the armed services, gifts from home from people who care. He and Mary Ann had been to one craft fair nearby to sell pens and pencils. It had been rainy so there wasn’t much foot traffic and just a few sales. They had another fair scheduled this past weekend, which they wisely decided not to attend.

On Monday the doctors did another CT scan and found that the hemorrhage had returned as large as the first stroke. They changed Dad’s medicines and induced a deep sedation to help ease the pressure on the brain and thereby reduce the swelling. His blood pressure was also spiking erratically and they added more meds for that. On Wednesday the CT scan showed no improvement. Apparently to do the CT scan they reduce the sedation level. Dad was unresponsive, meaning there wasn’t much brain activity. On Sunday after the surgery he was able to squeeze Mary Ann’s and Kim’s hands. By Monday he wasn’t. Dad is breathing over the ventilator but they keep it on to assist, so as not to make him work too hard to get air. They inserted a feeding tube at some point. I’m not sure when.

There’s another CT scan scheduled for tomorrow. I am not very optimistic. I found my friend Aja after she had had a stroke, and I knew she was gone even though she was still breathing on her own. Kim and I have discussed quality of life issues and agree that it may be best to let Dad go. He signed a DNR a long time ago. And I know this is Mary Ann’s decision to make. I am supportive of whatever she needs and wants to do. And I don’t want her to be responsible for Dad’s care if he is in a vegetative state.

I can’t take time from school right now. I’m grateful I got to see Dad just six weeks ago. I’m grateful that Kim can get down there. She’s there now as I write her from my room in Brooklyn. I’ve told my faculty members what’s happened and they are very supportive. Most of them are my age or so. They know I may need to leave soon.

I can’t help being grateful that Dad knows I’m following my dreams. He may not understand my dreams, but he knows I’m following them. I’m not sure he ever really understood what I was doing and that’s okay. He doesn’t need to understand because I know he loves me just like I am, whether he understands or agrees or not. We had many discussions over the past years, about alcohol, about my interests, about money, about politics. We saw eye to eye on some of them, and the rest, well, they just don’t matter, do they? Dad and Mary Ann got to come into a sweat lodge I poured a long time ago in Taos, over at Glenda and Wally’s house on Morada Lane. I‘m glad that I got to share a little bit of my spiritual path with them.

I really glad that Dad taught me how to work with my hands, how to use tools properly, how to buy the best tools I cold afford and then take care of them so they’d last. I’m glad Dad was there to talk with me about cars and trucks, and how to determine what was working and what wasn’t. He taught me how to change a tire and the oil. I watched him change the brakes on several cars but I only did that once, and never again on a 1972 Buick Opal.

I’m grateful that Dad has shared almost the past thirty years with Mary Ann. I know how much he loves her, even when he has a hard time saying it.

I’m glad Dad played that damned country western music so much when I was a kid. I hated it then but I really enjoy it now, and I’ll keep enjoying it, and remembering Dad with it.

I don’t know how this will end but I wanted to bring you up to date, as best I know right now. I love you all.

Class!

Installment Ten
September 6, 2009

I wish, really I wish, that I could start this entry with Garrison Keillor’s line, “It’s been a quiet week here in Lake Wobegon”, and alas, it would not be true. The first week of classes has been anything but quiet. Tumultuous, bumpy, nerve-wracking, exhausting, raucous, anxious, unnerving, tense, and fast, but not quiet.

I got moved into my room here on Clinton Avenue on Sunday, just a week ago. It’s really a great space, front bedroom, with a little alcove that I sleep in and the main room which will eventually become a sitting and studying area. Right now both rooms are organized with boxes, about ten in all. I have no furniture at present because the student loans have not been actually delivered to me although the school has gotten its money.

Back to the room. The prior tenant must have liked periwinkle and semi-gloss because that’s what the room was when I saw it and when I moved in. I knew immediately that it would be visually difficult for me to tolerate a room that bright, that electric. I had been into Manhattan the prior week and had found some paint chips (I had not yet found my fan deck of colors. I found it when I opened some of the boxes, later.) I knew I wanted a soft green, a foundation color that is relaxing and calming.

Sunday evening Stan was available to help me move the boxes I had shipped to him from his place to my new place so I had most of my stuff in one place by Sunday evening. I didn’t unpack much that first night. I wanted to get some kind of bed put together. I did find the small rugs and my blanket that I used as a pallet for my first night in.

I have to stop here and say that my brain has already kicked into thinking about the week ahead, the homework, the projects, school stuff. So forgive me if this is short and/or disorganized. I know my purpose here is to study, not to write a blog, and I’m really clear about that, which is why I mentioned in the last post that I may not be writing until Christmas, and that still may be true, but I thought I’d write a few things today while they are fresh in my mind. Good luck to all of you reading this ‘cause it might get tricky here.

Monday last I painted my rooms, a color called Forest Hills or something. Can’t find the chip now… I think I’ve told you this before and it’s my mind that I’m losing to school and study, and it’s also a way to provide continuity from one blog to the next. (If you really believe that I have some land in central Florida to sell you.) By mid afternoon I had the room painted and I was looking forward to organizing the boxes, hanging clothes in the closet (small though it is), and having a nice meal before my first day of classes. That was the last quiet evening for a week that I’ve had until last night.

My first class Tuesdays is Design Studio I, where the sixty or so of us met our six professors. We were divided into groups of about ten students to one teacher. My section is led by Myonggi Sul, a charming woman who has been a designer with several large firms and now operates her own firm here in the city. Her name is Korean and is pronounced Mee-yung-gee. I learned later in the day, and from several different students, that Myonggi is tough. I believe that. She expects each of us to work to the highest standards in everything, and that’s challenging when every teacher here expects just as much from each of us. I will mention here in passing that I am the only two-year student in our group. The nine others have been here at Pratt for the past year as qualifying students, learning about the school, the program, getting acquainted, and getting up to snuff on any number of technical programs. I am expected to know these programs as I’ve been working in the field for ten years. Wrong. I do not know AutoCADD, or architectural drafting, or 3DMax Design. I have many challenging studies ahead of me, and the learning curve is steep. For the skiers reading this you’ll appreciate that my learning curve resembles a chute, going up rather than down. And it’s slippery, just like the real chutes.

Another thing Myonggi (and all the other teachers) has said is that we need to get used to living in the studio for the next two years. There is an immense amount of creative production work required here. I wasn’t clear what to expect here before last week, and now I have a slightly better idea of what the picture looks like. I knew that I was divorcing myself from reality for the next two years but I hadn’t experienced what that really means until this past week. I now believe that I have physically removed myself from my old reality, from my friends, from the former life I lived, and from a lot of the pleasures I have taken for granted. I have chosen a monastic life of work in the studio for the next two years. I suspect I might be a bit overly dramatic here, and I’ve been known to think/work in extremes. It’s either black or white and there is no gray. So, I’m in a zone where I know I’m here to work. I chose this. I accept this and I’m psyched about the process and the richness I am experiencing here in studio. And as best I can, I’ll keep you posted from the studio.

I have no furniture yet, so I’m still sleeping on the floor, on the sofa cushions that I carry in each night and out the next morning. My desk, for the time being, is the kitchen table. It’s a card table covered with a Mexican blanket that has donkeys carrying bundles across the face of it, in browns and tans. The kitchen is small and functional; refrigerator, gas stove, microwave, toaster oven and cabinets for stuff. There is a window here facing west, so mornings are the best time to work in the kitchen.

The reason I have no furniture is because the school has lots of surprises that you don’t know until you get here and learn them. Here’s a short list from the past week:

1. Student loans are delivered to the school on August 31 but students don’t get their refunds (to pay rent and buy groceries and books and supplies and such) until about October 15. The school has thought about this and offers bridge loans to cover our current expenses until mid October. I was told when I applied for the bridge loans that they would be processed and that checks would be available last Wednesday. Surprise! That wasn’t actually true. The checks aren’t processed until the end of the first week of school, so in reality the bridge loan money isn’t really available to me until at least Tuesday next week, and more likely Wednesday or Thursday because Monday is a holiday (although not really here because the studio is always open!). The reality here is that the school can make lots of money in interest on all the student loan money from all the students while they are processing refund checks. Smart, huh.

Thank god I like beans and rice and peanut butter. And I have slept on the floor many times for ceremony and when visiting friends, and frankly it’s tolerable because I know that it’s temporary.

2. There is a great athletic building here with cardio equipment and tennis courts and a weight room. I went over Wednesday with gym bag and combination lock in hand, ready to relieve some of the stress of the first day of class. I walked into the locker room and found locks on all the lockers. Back at the front desk I asked about it and I was told I needed to sign up for a locker for the semester and that Suzie (or whomever) would be in between ten and two. It was eight and I wasn’t coming back. It’s also a ten-dollar fee for the locker. Surprise.

3. Each of the interior design students is required to take a Shop Safety Class, instructing us on proper safety procedures in several different wood shops here on campus. The certification is good for our stay here and it’s only nine hours of actual class time, three hours for each of three weeks. And there’s a hundred dollar fee that’s not included in our tuition and fee package. Surprise.

4. Each professor has a list of books and supplies that are suggested/required for their class, and frankly the cost estimates that are printed on the website are quite incorrect, on the low side. They suggest $1,750 for books and supplies for each semester. I have personally spent about $1,200 so far and I’m nowhere near done with current expenses (books, rent, groceries, art supplies). And that doesn’t include software programs. Surprise.

5. And the bursar’s office, where we pick up checks and such, is open less than bankers’ hours. 9:30 to 4. And you have to be inside the office to actually read the sign that lists the hours. Surprise.

6. Copying at the Copy Center here on campus is at least 5 cents per page of 8 ½ x 11 paper, and more for larger formats and color.

7. There are many places in the city to purchase books and supplies, and it’s an adventure finding them, and getting to them, and most especially, hauling stuff back from them on the subway or the bus. The convenience of having everything here does cost more; more time, more energy, more money, more sweat. Have I mentioned the heat and the humidity?

8. Does it sound like I’m complaining? I hope not. I’m just getting adjusted to this new reality THAT I’VE CHOSEN! It’s a large transition.

Okay, I’ve got to shower and get to the studio. I didn’t mention that our first design class assignment was to make five models of a proposed chapel inside a hospital, no windows, no skylights, in an old conference room. These are sketch models, concept models, and I frankly didn’t understand the assignment, but I made my 1/8” scale models anyway. And Friday when they were due, because I knew that I only have to do this first presentation at school once, I chose to present first. I was blasted by both faculty members present. We present to about 20 students and two faculty members, in a critique style called Pin-Up, where we pin up our models and talk about them. It is not like presenting/pitching to a client. It’s more like being put on a spit that turns and getting roasted in front of twenty others that are looking forward to the same treatment. And I asked for this. I’m well aware that I asked for this, and I’m grateful for the opportunities that I’m being given to stretch and grow and get better. The interesting part is that three plus hours later, when Pin-Up was over, each of the students had received just about the same critique: we didn’t get it. We missed the point of the assignment. I didn’t feel quite so depressed. Frankly, there is no time to feel depressed. It’s not about personalities. It’s principles. Where have I heard that before?

Friday afternoon, before I left the studio I went back over the notes from Tuesday and sure enough, the assignment was there and I hadn’t understood it, or I hadn’t taken it literally, or I had glossed over some large part of it. The instructions were all there, in my own hand, and I hadn’t really gotten it. As I sat there sketching my next concept for the Tuesday presentation (It moves very quickly here!) I made notes and sketches and then emailed Myonggi with my new idea. She responded affirmatively and re-iterated her initial question: Why? Why am I presenting this particular concept? How will my representation of this concept be understood by the people walking through it? And what tools, materials, light, forms, etc. will I use to make this concept real, and understandable? I love this work.

Ciao for now.

It’s Wednesday and I’ve had another adventure. I’ve been to the HomeCrest NY State Department of Public Health, way out in Brooklyn, almost to Brighton Beach. You might remember, if I remembered to include, the story about getting immunized against all kinds of nasty diseases. I couldn’t get immunized against Mumps, Measles and Rubella in Taos because the four pharmacies I tried didn’t carry the stuff. I had made email arrangements with the Pratt Health Services folks to get the MMR shot here. I certainly didn’t have the records from when I was five or six years old, and I wasn’t willing to drive to Santa Fe or Albuquerque for the current shot. Tuesday, yesterday, I was pulled aside before my Studio class by the Admin, Aston, and asked to step into the office. He told me that my registration had been put on hold online for some health matter. I told him I knew what it was about and that I’d take care of it after class, that I WAS going to class. Sure enough, Myonggi said that I wasn’t showing up on her roster of students and that I’d have to fix that before I could receive the assignment she was putting up on our LMS. Learning Management System is a fancy word for an online database where teachers can post assignments and students can access various resources from their laptops. It’s very efficient, unless you can’t get onto it because you haven’t been immunized against the Mumps.

I went to the studio last night after a meeting and a phone call with a very dear friend in Fort Worth, hello Brice!, and got online. I haven’t yet gotten wifi at the apartment because of other financial matters that I’ll discuss later (more hoops and bureaucracy). I had an address for the health service and I got on www.hopstop.com to find the most efficient route to and from my place to the clinic. Check out hopstop! It’s the best for transportation issues in cities around the world. Thank you for that resource, Suzanne!

Friday, another Friday.

It seems like the end of the week, but the days really blur on to another while in school. I spend most of my days in the studio working on whatever project is current, and then I’m in the library, or in class, or in the computer lab working on AutoCAD. I’m enjoying myself. And I’m working hard. And grad school is not quite what I expected. Not that I really knew what to expect. I did grad school for the MBA years ago and because I was not in a healthy mindset yet I didn’t really allow myself the time or the energy to enjoy the process. I wasn’t as aware and driven as I am here. School itself is wonderful.

It’s the extraneous world that’s getting in the way. Or is more challenging and time-consuming. When school says the student loans will be disbursed on August 31st, first day of classes, I believed them. They weren’t actually telling the truth. It may be that school received the check from my lending institution but I was made aware soon after the 31st that the school wouldn’t be processing refunds, that is, the money that the government says I can have to live on, above and beyond the actual tuition and fees, until October 15th, or so. Fortunately, school has thought of that and offers bridge or emergency loans to those of us in this particular pickle. It is not without its drawbacks and delays though. It takes school about two weeks to actually process through the piles of checks they’ve received before they can cut checks to us lowly students. And when we physically receive the checks we must, unless we’ve been bankrolled by some other higher power, open a new student checking account at one of the nearby banks. The first bank I approached offered free checking with a maintenance balance of $2500. You can open an account there for as little as $100 but they will take $9 a month in service fees. Sounds like usury to me.

I chose another bank that offered a free checking and savings account package to students. What I didn’t know before I deposited the school check I received this past Tuesday was that this particular bank puts a hold on checks for seven days. It seems to me that these two institutions, large as they both are, school and bank, might have developed a relationship over the say hundred-plus years of their co-existence. And that they might waive this week-long suffering of the little people who owe everybody money. Having said that I will report that the phone was disconnected Wednesday for lack of payment. I had called the phone folks and made arrangements to pay them on Tuesday, when I knew I would have the check. Now, alas, that wasn’t possible because the bank wants to be sure and make at least a week’s worth of interest on my puny deposit before I spend it on spurious things like rent and groceries and phone bills and art supplies. Off to class. More whining later.

Monday, September 14, 2009

I’ve spent hours and hours in the studio over the weekend and I have a good chunk of work ready for Pin-Up tomorrow, and I’m excited. By tomorrow the bank should have cleared the Pratt check, and that’ll be REALLY good news. I got a post office notice over the weekend that I had a parcel waiting at the local post office. I carried my computer and book bag with me to the post office as I was on my way to studio and I received a small but heavy box from Dad and MaryAnn, with a large amount of postage on it. Rather than carry it to studio and around all day I carried everything home. They have sent me a wonderful care package of food! Yippeee! I’ve already eaten two of the powerbars! Yippeeee! Lunch!

Okay, that’s it for now. Back to the studio!