I am a Walking Billboard for my Beliefs...and for Alix!

One thing Jonathan and I have thought a lot about is where our money is going, and what we are supporting in the world, both consciously and unconsciously. For example, I know that my money in the stock market is going to companies whose goals I do not support. I try, on a lazy, not very informed level, to steer clear of the most egregious abuses by corporations. But I have no idea where my small stocks in emerging economies fund at USAA is putting my money, or what I am really supporting. I sometimes find this unnerving.

Add to that that my sons are constantly being given or receiving clothing that asks them to advertise. I try not to let them wear it, but it takes determination on my part to keep company logos off their person.

Still, I try. I try to support things I believe in, and promote them, and to steer clear of bad things that make the world worse. Hard.

I have a dear friend named Alix, who I have written about before. A silversmith who trained in Israel, she runs a jewelry company and transforms found objects into whimsical and beautiful jewelry.

I have given her work to many people. And I always think that she should come out here and sell her stuff. Her intelligence, whimsy, style and eco-consciousness would appeal to the L.A. demographic.

So yesterday I received a box from Alix filled with jewelry. There is a swizzle stick bracelet made of swizzle sticks from all over California (and Doug's auto body shop!), there are necklaces and a charm bracelet and earrings made from used counter tops (counter culture). I am overwhelmed by her generosity. But also believe deeply in her products, in what she is trying to do, in her approach to art and life. I love them!

And so, I have committed, for one month, to wear a piece of Alix jewelry every day. Of course I will go into stores I think would love to sell her stuff. But I am going to be a walking billboard for my friend, and I am going to carry her cards in my wallet. I am going to wear clothes that show it off to advantage, and wear my hair back so you can see the earrings.

I am going to talk about it, and sell it.

Click around her web site. And if you have any questions, ask me. I am a spokesperson, too!

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Smells

They say poems, great music, art, literature, take you back to some universal place. They push you beyond the ordinary to a magical place we all share--simple, one.

I believe this.

But do you think this can happen with smells?

In the last week Jonathan has cooked a few fantastic meals. They are meals the boys have never eaten before in their lives. And yet, both times, Theo, who has a pretty impressive palate, and can pick out lemon, basil, nutmeg or olive oil in a dish, said, "I feel like I have tasted this before..."

Is it possible that some smells and tastes are so fundamental, so satisfying, so much a part of our human craving, that we believe we have tasted them before, even if that taste has never crossed our lips?

Do they make us feel that everything is OK, do they feel deeply familiar because there is something divine and universal in them?

What do you think?

Food for Thought

Yesterday a mama I love came over to talk and caffeinate with me. We spoke about creativity, finding time to pursue our dreams as mothers, and how much of your precious time should go to the "art" itself, and how much to the business, the promotion, the endless drumming up of business.

She told me about a documentary about an old Indian jeweler she knew, who used to work up in Malibu. He was ripped, talented, and successful. He looked like a man following his dream, his art, his bliss. But he revealed, in this documentary, that he spends more time on the computer and on the phone doing the business end of things, so that he can do his art.

It made me think.

Someone always has to do the business end of things. You cannot just do art, unless you find a patron, or have a brother with a sales background who will peddle your work with passion and leave you to the paints (Theo Van Gogh, for instance).

Creative people shy away from the business side, but it must be done. And today, it seems, in the creative arts you are expected to do more and more of the business side and promotion yourself. You must be an entrepreneur, too, to be an artist, a writer, a film maker, a poet. Otherwise, you will just be a hobbyist. Which is OK.

And I thought about that. Not that journalism is art--but I was so blessed to write in a place where once I was hired the only person I had to sell my idea to was my editor, whose door was pretty much always open. They might be good, they might be bad, but it didn't take long to get an answer.

Freelancing is a different story. You have to write the story, yes. But that ends up being such a small part of the whole process. You have to find the place to pitch (appropriate voice, etc), see if you have a contact, harass daily or weekly, write up a proposal, wait for them to decide, then, IF they say yes, file the story, wait to be edited, and finally, many months later, get paid. The writing part is probably only 30% of the total.

To me, it feels like not enough. But if your starting point is: you could do something for someone else all the time, OR you could spend three quarters of your time promoting yourself and trying to find the space and means to do this thing you love, well, then it doesn't seem so bad. Indeed, that privilege of doing your passion feels like a gift. Even if it is only for 30% of the time.

What do you think, you artists, writers, film makers, and creative people out there? What is the proper ratio between art and commerce in the life of one who wants to pursue what they love?

Reflections on Art

Long, long ago, when I was a globetrotting twenty-something struggling to find my place and role in the world, we stopped our travels in Indonesia. We had been traveling for four months, my friend and I, and when we hit Jogyakarta, we just stopped. We needed to put down roots, if only for a week. Jogya, as the natives called it, is famous for its fabulous fabrics and batiks. They make most of the sarongs in the world, or at least the beautiful ones. My friend and I signed up for a batik class. We studied with a guy who was pretty famous. He did amazing sculptures and showed his work all over the world. And yet, he invited us into his run-down colonial courtyard to teach us art. Like everyone in the world, he was curious about America. And we were agonizing about what to do with our lives. He said I was talented. I had to make sure I kept doing art. I said my parents would never let me become an artist. He looked confused. He said, everyone needs to do art. I said people in America are artists as a profession--otherwise you didn't really have time. He said Indonesians believed that it was essential for the human soul that every person have some art they practiced, whether it was dance, music, drumming, painting, just something beautiful. When I said people in America were artists full-time, that was your job, he said that must drive them crazy. It must distort the art. Art is simply something everyone must do, to feel alive. You are not supposed to do it ALL the time, that is just as crazy as no art at all. It made me think. It was such a balanced way to look at the world. And he was so talented. So it was extra powerful from him.
Last night I started a new art class at the Barnsdall Art Center. It is a class in collage. For some reason the people in this class are so much more serious than those in the figure drawing class. We looked at artists, people took notes, we practiced new techniques. It is conceptual. And so fun!!!! I felt so overjoyed after the class.
I was reminded so vividly of the Indonesian artist and what he said: Everyone does need art in their lives. It is part of being human.