Vik Muniz: Waste Land

Following my exchange with the artist Cynda Valle about the movie "Waiting for Hockney," I came upon another movie about an artist that I think is well worth watching. It's called Waste Land, and it follows the Brazilian artist Vik Muniz as he goes to work in what is supposedly the biggest trash dump in the world, the Jardim Granacho in Rio de Janeiro, documenting the labors of a small army of pickers who eke out a bare living there, sorting through mountains of garbage to glean what they can recycle for cash.

I have known about Vik Muniz and his work for quite some time. He is known world-wide for the images he creates using everything from chocolate syrup and peanut butter to odds and end of string and, yes, even garbage. We have in our possession one of his "Medusa Plates"...

... the Medusa's head created of spaghetti and marinara sauce left-overs. It's one of "Christmas Gift" art projects that Peter Norton (of Norton Utilities fame) and his wife, Gwen, send out to a lucky list of recipients each year. Born and raised in poverty in Sao Paulo, Muniz has succeeded in reaching the pinnacle of contemporary art celebrity with work that capitalizes on poverty itself--the poverty of materials that can serve the artists' goals. His work is smart, unafraid of whimsy, and hopefully a reminder to the socially privileged who admire and buy it that there are vast numbers of people in the world who do not share their privilege or wealth.

"Waste Land" documents Muniz's effort to give back to that community in his home land by creating portraits of the men and women whose lives are spent, literally, in society's trash. That they maintain such an admirable sense of human dignity and mutual compassion in such abject circumstances is at once astonishing and humbling. That they are perhaps even more capable of joy and laughter than many who fare much better in life than they is a tribute to their generous spirit of humanity. We come to know and love these people who live so far below the horizon of social acceptability.

There are moments in the film when we worry that Muniz may be coming uncomfortably close to exploiting his subjects, as when he sets them up for photographs in poses that recall art historical icons like "The Death of Marat" by Jacques-Louis David...

... and transforming these icons into reminders of a world where "fine art" is very far removed from the realities of life:

Once the photography is done, however, the workers are invited to become collaborators in the creation of the images, made in huge scale on a warehouse floor to be photographed from high above and transformed into the final images.

How do they benefit the community of pickers? Certainly, at one level, they give face to the faceless. The footage makes clear how much it means to his subjects simply to be seen, and recognized, and heard. They come to life when the camera's eye is trained on them. And then there's money--the life-blood of the art market. Muniz sends the largest of his images--the one above--for sale at a London auction house, the proceeds to benefit the community. After serious debate about the ethical issues involved in so radically uprooting a man from his cultural environment, he invites Tiao, the president of the pickers union and the subject of the Marat picture, to go with him to the sale, and to watch his portrait being auctioned off for some $50,000.

The total proceeds from the project, turned back into the community, reportedly reached $250,000--in a thought-provoking, neatly ironic redistribution of wealth. With the money, a community center was built, an education center, a library. Lives were transformed, as Muniz's subjects found new inspiration in their lives, and new motivation to move on to better circumstances. The scenes in which, at the end, he brought the gift of his pictures of them into their modest homes were particularly touching; attached to the to the walls, the portraits seemed to radiate with a special, transformative significance as families gathered round them with a kind of awe.

This kind of intervention can, of course, easily become patronizing, raising hopes for a single precious moment, then allowing them to crash. This was a worry, for me, in "Waste Land." But the project was saved from this fate, for me, by the possibilities that seem to have opened up for the participants at the end, as the updates scrolled, informing us of new opportunities seized and families reunited. It was rewarding to know that it's possible for an artist with an activist social conscience to produce work that, in turn, produces actual, consequential changes in the world.

Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/31/2011

"What we think, we become. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world." ~The Buddha Technorati Tags: Buddha Buddhist Buddhism Meditation Dharma

Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/31/2011

"What we think, we become. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world." ~The Buddha Technorati Tags: Buddha Buddhist Buddhism Meditation Dharma

Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/30/2011

" I teach one thing and one only: that is, suffering and the end of suffering." ~The Buddha

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Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/30/2011

" I teach one thing and one only: that is, suffering and the end of suffering." ~The Buddha

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Big Brother?

My friend Gary sent me this. I could hardly believe my eyes. If this has not yet reached your attention, it's worth a look. Happy weekend!

Don't ever think you can hide in a crowd.

FASCINATING BUT SCARY!!! If you were there, they would know?

You used to be able to get lost in the crowd, but not anymore. Double click on any area in the picture to bring the person closer. Or, just click the mouse and use the mouse wheel to bring them closer, or click the + for enlargement.

This is a photograph of 2009 Obama Inauguration. You can see IN FOCUS the face of EACH individual in the crowd !!!

You can scan and zoom to any section of the crowd... Wait a few seconds. Double click anywhere, and the focus adjusts to give you a very identifiable close up.

The picture was taken with a robotic 1474 megapixel camera (295 times the standard 5 megapixel camera). Every one attending could be scanned after the event, should something have gone wrong during it.

http://gigapan.org/viewGigapanFullscreen.php?auth=033ef14483ee899496648c2b4b06233c <http://gigapan.org/viewGigapanFullscreen.php?auth=033ef14483ee899496648c2b4b06233c

Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/29/2011

" Your worst enemy cannot harm you as much as your own unguarded thoughts." ~The Buddha

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Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/29/2011

" Your worst enemy cannot harm you as much as your own unguarded thoughts." ~The Buddha

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A Follow-Up...

This morning I posted a follow-up to Saturday's discussion about what it means to be an artist on Persist: The Blog. I hope you might find it interesting.

Rawhide

A piece on yesterday's CBS Sunday Morning show on the Reagan assassination attempt led me to revisit my conviction that history will eventually see him as a weak President, far from the image of fortitude and strength promoted by his devotees on the American right. He was, in my own estimation, a man who allowed himself to be easily manipulated by wealth and power, and who pandered to the selfishness, narcissism and greed of people who would readily accept simple-minded panaceas at a time when the world was beginning to confront us with ever more complex problems.

Reagan, as I see it, was responsible for ushering this country into a Fantasyland delusion about its exceptionalism with his "shining city on a hill." What bullshit! He used Hollywood-style charm and smoke-and-mirrors to sell this vision with incredible success to gullible American baby boomers, who wanted nothing better than to believe that they were special. If I have the numbers right, as quoted recently by the conservative NYT columnist David Brooks, when asked if they were "very important people," only 12 percent responded "yes" in the early 1950s. By the 1990s, that number had leaped to 8o-something percent.

It was this naive, Hollywood cowboy vision of America that reached its delusional climax, and for all practical purposes died with the George W. Bush debacle in the Middle East. There are those, of course, who persist in attempting to capitalize on it for political gain, but their voices sound absurdly hollow in a world where fear and respect for America have been replaced by the anger of some, the scorn of others. Here at home, Obama's graver and more modest vision of our responsibilities in the world is used as political bait for right-wing voters, but I believe it will prove to be at once wiser and more realistic than the boastful strutting of his predecessor.

It was also Reagan's vision--and supposed modeling--of rugged individualism that led us into the magical thinking at the root the economic plight in which we find ourselves today. On the one hand, his mass firing of air traffic controllers provided the model needed by his corporate sponsors to start out on the anti-labor, union busting orgy we have seen in recent days. On the other, catering to the merely human greed of the American middle class, Reagan's voice was used to persuade them that they could continue to enjoy the excellent government services that supported their unprecedented standard of living--education being the most important amongst them--without paying for them with their taxes.

Reagan, Reaganism and Reagan idolatry have been used by exploitative powers as the fairy dust that clouds the vision of the American electorate. In the long view of history, I predict, they will be seen as the toxins that allowed us to destroy what became, in the 20th century, the most powerful political entity in the history of the world; and perhaps, in its wake--and without exaggeration, if we don't soon wake up to reality--the planet itself. Not an enviable legacy.

Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/28/2011

" Meditation brings wisdom; lack of meditation leaves ignorance. Know well what leads you forward and what hold you back, and choose the path that leads to wisdom." ~The Buddha

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Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/28/2011

" Meditation brings wisdom; lack of meditation leaves ignorance. Know well what leads you forward and what hold you back, and choose the path that leads to wisdom." ~The Buddha

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Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/27/2011

" The thought manifests as the word. The word manifests as the deed. The deed develops into habit. And the habit hardens into character. So watch the thought and its ways with care. And let it spring from love, born out of concern for all beings." ~The Buddha

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Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/27/2011

" The thought manifests as the word. The word manifests as the deed. The deed develops into habit. And the habit hardens into character. So watch the thought and its ways with care. And let it spring from love, born out of concern for all beings." ~The Buddha

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Waiting for Hockney

I hope you'll take a look at my entry on Persist: The Blog today. It's about the movie, Waiting for Hockney, which difficult and important issues for creative people of all kinds, I think. You may find that you disagree with me...

Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/26/2011

"If a man who enjoys a lesser happiness beholds a greater one, let him leave aside the lesser to gain the greater."

~The Buddha




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Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/26/2011

"If a man who enjoys a lesser happiness beholds a greater one, let him leave aside the lesser to gain the greater."

~The Buddha




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The Death of Street Art?

I was interested to see the Banksy film Exit Through the Gift Shop because I had heard it was about street art. It wasn't. And it was. I'll explain in a moment.

Meantime, though, let me say that I do happen to love art that just appears for no apparent reason to trigger the imagination or outrage of unsuspecting passers-by, and disappears almost as quickly as it arrived. It's a great way to bypass the relentless--and to my mind poisonous---commercialism that defines much of the current art scene. It started to happen long before it became fashionable: I think of my old friend Maura Sheehan who, back in the 1970s already, was putting together teams who would go out furtively over the weekend and, say, paint an entire parking lot pink--from the chain link fence to the pavement and every little piece of detritus abandoned there. Imagine driving up to your favorite parking spot on a Monday morning and finding it all pink... And then there were the earlier graffiti artists, Jean-Michel Basquiat prominent amongst them. And Robbie Conal, whose biting, guerilla warfare political posters have been skewering the corrupt and and the incompetent for years. (Actually, if you want to go back to the origins, you need to go back to ancient Greece and Rome. And don't forget Kilroy, of World War II fame. There's a fascinating history of graffiti available on Wikipedia. But I digress.)

Anyway, as I'm sure you know, Banksy is perhaps the most famous of the latest crop of "street artists," as they have come to be known in the past decade or so--along with the likes of Shepard Fairey, whose Obama poster surely made a big contribution in shifting the political winds in favor of the President. I was expecting "Exit Through the Gift Shop" to be a celebration of the wonderfully imaginative work of many of these artists who have been busy thumbing their noses at our society at large and the art world and its values in particular. As it turned out, the film spent relatively little time documenting their work, concentrating instead the meteoric rise of the obsessive French-born Thierry Guetta (aka Mister Brainwash) from Los Angeles trendy shop keeper to video freak and accidental documentarian to, finally, a self-annointed, self-proclaimed street artist.

In a real sense, Banksy's film is a requiem for the recent phenomenon of street art, because it documents its path from marginally criminal--and socially disrespectful--behavior to a boom of collector frenzy and highly profitable commercialism. Guetta himself, initially no more than an rather irritating nerd with a video camera, caught on to the street art phenomenon and started covering the work of some of the artists with countless hours of tape. He was soon in hot pursuit of the ultimate prize, the notoriously elusive Banksy himself, and finally managed to engage his friendship. Following the triumphal exhibition with which Banksy managed to conquer the Los Angeles social and cultural scene, Guetta set about the challenge of becoming a street artist himself. And, though his work could honestly be described as neither "street" nor "art," he brought off a commercial coup which may have delivered a death blow to the spirit behind the movement. With even this mode of expression now debased into mainstream-commerical and with gullible buyers lining up to lay their hands on the stuff, it's hard to imagine how it can continue to be anything but tame.

Even though it was not what I had imagined, though, the film is well worth seeing. Narrated by a hooded, anonymous character in an electronically-altered voice--presumably Banksy--I see it as a cautionary tale about the perils of the human ego when it knows no bounds.

Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/25/2011

" For in craving pleasure or in nursing pain
There is only sorrow."

~The Buddha




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Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/25/2011

" For in craving pleasure or in nursing pain
There is only sorrow."

~The Buddha




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A Surprise Performance

See, I couldn't stay away for long! Despite the disclaimer yesterday, I could not resist a new entry today. The reason is rather a special one. Last night, Ellie and I went out--unusually late in the evening for us--to see our trusty part-time assistant Emily play with her band at a local club. She invited us weeks ago, but we have been away too frequently on Wednesdays, her weekly gig night, to take her up on the invitation. We should have gone sooner... it was great!

The club, 1642, was what she herself describes as a "hole-in-the-wall" in an unlikely spot on Temple Boulevard just west of downtown Los Angeles. It was already crowded by the time we arrived, at nine, just before the band, The Hi-Fi Honeydrops, started its first of three sets. We bought a glass of wine (for me--a sparkling water for Ellie) and settled in at the prime table Emily had kindly reserved for us.

We had no idea, of course, what to expect. I have known Emily only as the wonderful young person who shows up a couple of times a week and does her best to keep me organized. She also comes and stays in the house with George when we go out of town; she has grown to like it here, and finds Ellie's study a good place to practice on her tenor saxophone; for this reason, George is the only one in the family to have heard her play, and he has not let on how good she is.

I knew that Emily was a musician, of course, when she came to work with us a while ago. I just did not know how accomplished a musician she actually is. I had a hard time picturing this very petite young woman with a tenor saxophone, which had to be almost as tall as she is. I'm very glad, now, to have seen and heard her play. Not only, I discovered, does she play the sax with enormous dexterity and skill, she sings with a full-throttle voice I would never have imagined emerging from her throat! I'm certainly no music expert, but to my inexpert ear the band, led by her friend David Elsenbroich, were at once highly disciplined as an ensemble and individually talented musicians. They tackled everything from warmly familiar numbers like "Blue Skies", "Stars Fell on Alabama," and "Stormy Weather" (bravo, Emily!) to Latin and country music. I'm particularly partial to the latter, and loved their lively rendition of Bob Wills's "Rose of San Antone."

Ellie and I both loved the evening, loved the energy, loved the sound. Still somewhat weary from our recent travels, we had forewarned Emily that we'd stay only for the first set. As it turned out, we were so thoroughly engaged, we stayed on for nearly the whole length of the second. As I told Emily before we left, I'll have to treat her now with much greater respect!

Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/24/2011

" On a long journey of human life, faith is the best of companions; it is the best refreshment on the journey; and it is the greatest property."

~The Buddha




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Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/24/2011

" On a long journey of human life, faith is the best of companions; it is the best refreshment on the journey; and it is the greatest property."

~The Buddha




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Strange Times

These are strange times, here at "The Buddha Diaries." My entries, as you will have noticed, have been unusually irregular these past couple of weeks: there was that unanticipated deadline for a catalogue text, followed shortly by the trip up north to Portland and Seattle. But those are poor excuses. There was a time when neither rain nor shine nor travel to foreign parts would keep me from my daily entries, unless I found myself in some part of the world where I could simply not get online. No, there's something deeper and more puzzling going on--an absence of that motivation that normally keeps me going, no matter where I am or what else is going on.

I think a part of it is that my writing mojo has shifted to other projects. I have another catalogue text due next week and, more challenging, I now have a new book in mind. I woke on the last day of my speaking tour up north with the realization that, while each of my talks is geared to a different audience, there are common threads that run through all of them. Given the enthusiastic response from audiences of all kinds, I know that I have something to say that many people hunger for--and also that it's something more than what I covered in my essays in "Persist." I was up at 3:30 that morning--sleepless in Seattle!--so excited by the ideas that came flooding in that I had to note a few of them down and, indeed, to begin to find the words.

It's finding those beginning words that always leads me to the understanding of what it is I need to say, and for this reason it's important to me to scribble them down when they come into my head. They flow in sequences that I'm unable to reproduce by memory alone, and they give me the edge I need, the first thread. I begin to pull at it and the whole text starts to unravel. It's the unraveling process that engages me, sometimes to the point of obsession, where I can think of nothing else.

So here I am, embarked, in my writing head at least, on something other than "The Buddha Diaries." And yet I do feel a commitment to these pages. Not only a commitment, a sense of gratitude that brings with it a kind of obligation. I'm grateful for the practice the blog has helped me shape, and particularly grateful for the readership. It astounds me that my page views total over a hundred and fifty thousand, and that my hits come in at more than double that rate. This is something I have come to value more than I can say, because I don't write, as some claim, "for myself." I write to be read. Indeed, for me, the very act of writing implies a reader. It makes no sense otherwise.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I'm allowing myself to be more erratic in my entries than I have been in the past. It feels like a risk--and risks, in my experience, no matter how daunting they feel, have a way of paying off. The bigger the risk, the greater the payoff. This may seem like small potatoes to some. To me it feels like a big one. And, who knows, my addiction might still get the better of me. See you around!

Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/23/2011

" The fragrance of sandalwood and rosebay
Does not travel far.
But the fragrance of virtue
Rises to the heavens."

~The Buddha




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Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/23/2011

" The fragrance of sandalwood and rosebay
Does not travel far.
But the fragrance of virtue
Rises to the heavens."

~The Buddha




Technorati Tags: Buddha Buddhist Buddhism Meditation Dharma

Buddhism: Opium for the Masses?

Buddhism has long been ignored in America but now that it is gaining in popularity, it is often being labeled as being practiced mostly by "New Age" types looking for the next spiritual fad. That seems to be the general thesis of Mark Vernon's recent article, "Buddhism is the New Opium of the People" for The Guardian news outlet. His example upfront is that of David and Victoria Beckham's four foot golden Buddha in their living room and how it smacks of consumerism.

And, perhaps he would be right if we were all like David and Victoria Beckham but most of the "western Buddhists" I know (and ones I am in contact with) are just as concerned about the commercialization of Buddhism as anyone else. Read any Buddhist blog for a time and eventually they'll write about Buddhist iconography and concepts being manipulated to sell everything from booze to yogurt. But, what can any of us do in the long run to get such companies to not manipulate our religion for their commercial gain? No much. Unfortunately, religion has long been usurped by those would seek to make a buck off it. However, that crass commercialism does not automatically delegitimize a belief system in and of itself. Sincere adherents can't be expected to answer for opportunists who don't even know what Dharma means, let alone practice it.

Unfortunately, that's not the only gripe that the author has with Buddhism in America. Vernon's article goes onto make the claim that Buddhism in America is a form of "zoning out" and avoidance of the problems of modern life. In doing so, he relied heavily upon a quote philosopher, Slavoj Zizek that paints all of western Buddhism as nothing more than a drug:

Western Buddhism presents itself as a remedy against the stresses of modern life though, as Slavoj Žižek has noted, it actually functions as a perfect supplement to modern life. It allows adherents to decouple from the stress, whilst leaving the causes of the stress intact: consumptive forces continue unhindered along their creatively destructive path. In short, Buddhism is the new opium of the people.

James: Firstly, this quote does nothing to define what Zizek (or Vernon for that matter) mean by, "Western Buddhism" which is an amorphous label of a brand of Buddhism that doesn't even exist in any concrete terms. It's just a catch-all phrase that sweeps up all American Buddhists into a convenient box that is then labeled with nearly every possible misconception of Buddhism imaginable.

It's easy to attack all American Buddhists as starry-eyed, "New Age," wannabe Buddhists when you lump them into a conveniently undefined category. Especially since there are no "Western Buddhist" monasteries to visit, no "Western Buddhist" lineage to consult and no "Western Buddhist" doctrine to define it. In other words, "Western Buddhism" is a blank canvas that anyone can color to define American Buddhists/Buddhism in any way they like-good or bad.

But, getting to the meat of the above quote, Buddhism is not interpreted by most American Buddhists as just another self-help fad that allows you to zone-out of life, disconnect from everyone and feel groovy. You can't compare David and Victoria Beckham's flirtation with Buddhism to all American Buddhists who are trying sincerely to practice what Buddha taught to improve their lives, and the world. And, simply because Buddhism is new to Americans doesn't mean that we see it as a commodity to flash around like a jewel encrusted necklace or watch--even if some high-profile celebrities do so.

The majority of Buddhists I know in America live very humble lives, have small Buddha statues (if at all) and a sparse altar space from, which to meditate. We do seek to "decouple" (to use his word) from the mental poisons of greed, hatred and delusion but that is not the same thing as numbed-out nihilism and disconnecting from the world. Other than that, we buy books from teachers to guide our practice who are highly respected people in their storied lineages and throughout Buddhism world-wide. And to label "Buddhism" as practiced in Asia as "medieval" is demeaning and purely ignorant of 2,500 years of tradition. If Buddhism, at its roots, is "medieval" then why are scientists today finding much to agree with in Buddhist philosophy? Such as seeing comparisons between concepts of rebirth and the first law of thermodynamics?

Vernon digs his hole of confusion deeper by saying, "For if Buddhism is to live in the modern world, it must be treated as a living tradition, not a preformed import." Is he honestly saying that the only valid form of Buddhism that can be treated as a living tradition in America has to be American made? If so, that's just plain absurd. There is no reason why Zen in America can't be a living, valid tradition for American culture despite it's Japanese roots. That's just silly. We'd have to say the same for Christianity; that's it's just a preformed import from Israel and not a valid living tradition. It seems, for someone who has a lot of strong criticism of American Buddhists, Vernon doesn't seem to understand the adaptability built within Buddhism very well.

As for meditation, it's not seen as the defining Buddhist practice except to a few traditions; namely Zen and Tibetan Buddhism. It preposterous to claim that meditation was never apart of early Buddhism because that was how Buddha realized enlightenment. Now, the modern, English word, "meditation" surely wasn't used but the concepts are still the same. But don't believe my supposedly ignorant, "New Age" American Buddhist, mind. Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh wrote a lengthy book on the Buddha's life, and if meditation wasn't a fundamental aspect to Buddhist practice then the 82 year old Zen monk Nhat Hanh must be a liar?

Vernon then makes the implicit claim that most American Buddhists don't even know what meditation is about; that we see it as just some "feel good" vibe in an isolated moment and not something that helps us deal with the real world in a more balanced and responsible way:

What is also missed in the focus on meditation is the ethical challenge implicit in his call. Any practice must concern your whole stance towards the world, and it's a stance that is intensely, relentlessly critical. The aim is to enquire into all aspects of your form of life.

James: Anyone who is practicing Buddhism as a way to escape life hasn't fully studied the Dharma from long-time practitioners and teachers. And, to lump those people in with all American Buddhists is irresponsible and makes the authors come across as simply looking for away to demean and discredit the growing number of sincere Buddhists across America.

~Peace to all beings~

Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/22/2011

" It is better to do nothing
Than to do what is wrong.
For whatever you do, you do to yourself."

~The Buddha




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Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/22/2011

" It is better to do nothing
Than to do what is wrong.
For whatever you do, you do to yourself."

~The Buddha




Technorati Tags: Buddha Buddhist Buddhism Meditation Dharma

BACK IN L.A.

So, yes, we're back in Los Angeles--returning from the cold and soggy Northwest... to an even colder and soggier Southern California. Really. Our Alaska Airlines flight brought us in through driving rain and unstable air from the west, unusually, down over the Pacific into a bumpy landing at LAX. So bumpy that the passengers all applauded when we finally touched down. The trusty Emily was at the airport, thankfully, to meet us, and drove us home through still pouring rain. George seemed happy enough to see us back, but made his reluctance known when I insisted on taking him our into the downpour for his pee walk.

It was a great trip. We loved Portland, despite the inclement weather, and felt warmly welcomed by a good number of Southern California art world exiles, now very much enjoying their lives in a smaller, more intimate city which is bustling with cultural activity of all kinds. It was great, too, to have the opportunity to get together with my publisher, Paul Gerhards at Parami Press, for the first time. Here we are, at the Portland Art museum lecture.

Paul's blog is When This Is, That Is. One surprise was an email from, and a subsequent telephone conversation with another blogger and a Buddha Diaries faithful, Mark, from whom we used to hear pretty regularly in the "Comments" section. His blog, Dancing Through Life, offers too infrequent insights into the life of a young dancer trying to make ends meet. We had a good talk, but did not manage to find the right time for both of us to sit down together.

I made an entry, as I recall, from the train station in Portland, as we were about to leave for Seattle. One thing I omitted, I believe, was mention of our stop at the famous Powell's "City of Books"--which provided me with a good intro to my lecture at the Portland Art Museum that evening. It is, in fact, a city block with nothing but that good old-fashioned printed material bound by sturdy covers, a treasure house of literature and information ranging throughout history and across the globe. For a writer, as I pointed out in my talk, it's also a nightmare: who would be crazy enough to add to this mountainous pile and, if one were in any case so foolish, how could one expect one's tiny needle to be discovered in this haystack? It's what I write about, the difficult relationship between creativity and commerce.

On from Union Station, then. Riding the train proved infinitely more pleasurable than the alternative--another all too familiar nightmare: air travel. The train offers much more leg room, and much better views...

We could have, should have taken more pictures. There was, notably, a great deal of water everywhere--streams and rivers, tarns, ponds and lakes, and finally, the Puget Sound. Very beautiful landscapes everywhere, and often reminiscent of the English countryside. I suppose it must be the rain... We probably did the trip faster, too, by the time we would have had to allow for the trips to and from the airports, the security lines and the wait for boarding, in addition to the actual flight time. It's nice to be leaving from, and arriving in, a city center.

Our Sheraton Hotel in downtown Seattle was right next to the vast Convention Center, where the National Art Education Association's conference was held--a gathering of some four thousand art teachers from all across the country...

... who see to the creative education of our youngsters from elementary school through 12th grade. You know, the people we have to blame for all our economic problems...! I would have loved to have put a copy of "Persist"...

... into all four thousand hands--well, I guess eight thousand--but had to be content with those with whom I came in contact. One of the major themes of the conference, to judge from the lecture and workshop offerings, was the need of these creative people to stay in touch with their creative selves despite the challenges of enormously demanding jobs and of course, in many cases, families.

Because our time was short and we wanted to see something of Seattle, we attended only a couple of the conference sessions in addition to a quick tour of the exhibition hall. I was impressed, particularly, with the participants' sense of dedication and enthusiasm for their work. Despite what seems to be a popular misimpression in this country, they are rewarded with far too little respect and money for their service. In addressing the needs of the right side of the brain, art teachers make a largely unrecognized contribution to the spirit of innovation and inventiveness that is sorely needed if we are get out of our current national snit and work towards a better future for this ailing planet.

My two speaking venues in Seattle proved as gratifying as the Portland Art Museum, mentioned in an earlier entry. There was some doubt about what kind of audience we could attract at 11AM on a Saturday morning at the Greg Kucera Gallery in the Pioneer Square district. Need not have worried. The gallery had set out just a few chairs to begin with, not knowing what to expect--they had never done this kind of thing before; but more and more people drifted in, and more and more chairs were added, until the gallery space was actually filled. A great crowd, very informed about the art world and very receptive to my ideas; I gave a half-hour's talk and the question and answer period must have lasted for another half hour after that. I really enjoyed the back-and-forth and was gratified, as always, by the comments as I sat, at the end, and signed a good number of books. (I'm happy to report that, of the box of fifty copies Paul gave me to bring up to Seattle, I had not a single one left to lug back to Los Angeles with me!)

The workshop that brought me to the conference was scheduled for Saturday afternoon at 1PM, leaving me little time between the two. It was, in fact, the brain child of Prof. Amanda Allison, who had invited me to speak at Texas Christian University in Forth Worth last year, and who thought we could collaborate on a useful workshop for teachers. She titled it "Get Back... to the Studio," intending it as a rallying cry for teachers who had lost track of that important artist part of their lives and needed to get back in touch. Amanda provided the framework, allowing me a half hour for my own thoughts about what gets in the way of one's creative life, and what is needed to reclaim it. Again, a gratifying response and challenging questions. I am truly grateful to have discovered this new medium with words, which allows me to connect with people in a very special way.

That's the narrative, then. It was, as I say, a very good trip. I woke early Sunday morning at the Sheraton with a head buzzing with ideas about how to bring this all together in a book...

Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 3/21/2011

" You are the source
Of all purity and impurity.
No one purifies another."

~The Buddha




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