Art as Vehicle

“We can see the performing arts as a chain with numerous links, where at one extremity one finds art as presentation (theatre in the strict sense), and at the other extremity, art as vehicle. It s something very ancient, rather forgotten. For the persons doing, the doers, the performative opus is a kind of vehicle for the work on oneself, in the sense that, as in certain old traditions, the attention for art goes together with the approach of the interiority of the human being.”
Programa Fondazione Pontedera Teatro : the Workcenter of Jerzy Grotowski and Thomas Richards

Difficult Times

I am saddened to hear of the difficulties of Guy Ritchie and Madonna.  They are divorcing, and having to settle on their assets ($35 and $525 mil respectively).  What will the poor guy do if Madonna leaves him high and dry with only his puny $35 million?  NOT.

I am truly troubled by all the recent layoffs of my friends.  Now these are the real struggles – how to keep your only house (not divvying up your multiple abodes).  Or the friend who invested in Lehman bonds – one who is going to have to keep working instead of retiring.  I guess I am like a lot of folks, not confident at all that the financial powerhouses in the markets who have the capability to ruin my life in bad times, (yet do NOT share with me in the profit of good times), have settled down.  Personally, I don’t care what “bottom” in the market is – I just want to get it.  Soon. 

Perhaps all of my work learning street busking tricks WAS a long term investment strategy after all – I will be able to work any street corner for spare change with more pizazz than the young lady squatting reading a book on 42nd street with her sign  “Stranded – Need $12.00 to get Home”.  ~~ I was tempted to give her $12 bucks to see if she would be there when I got back.

Manhattan Musings

Was in my Vietnamese squat outside Swatch at west broadway and prince in SoHo. It was a dizzyingly beautiful October Saturday – bluest of blue skies, sunny and perfect blend of cool to warm and back again. My feet were tired after a fruitless search for a birthday gift for the 18th birthday of the daughter of one of my husbands lifelong friends. He is traveling to Great Britain just for this event. I had picked hlout a nice little something from the flea market stalls on Houston. Once my husband learned I had bought a gift, somehow that became THE gift, leaving me once again giftless. Of course he had rejected all of my previous suggestions, and had come shopping without even ascertaining her correct size. In a way that was fortunate – no temptation to buy haute couture – what lunacy it would be to spend $120 on a T-shirt or wAy more on something more substantial if one is clueless on the appropriate size. Not like she is going to pop downtown for an exchange from Kettering UK.

On the subject of couture: it is official. I am off the size charts in European couture. The largest size, 44, does not circumnavigate my big booty. It misses by about 3-4 cm. The salesgirl was so sweet- she laughed when I asked if there were sizes for big fatassed people like me It is sad. I now look stumpy; once the clothes get big enough to fit I start looking short instead of chic. The real comeuppance was my middle aged upper arm was also almost too fat to fit in the sleeve. Big sigh. However it saved me $250.00.

Found some of what I’m looking for at Mood Fabrics. However I am surprised that there has yet to be a major meltdown shopping on Project Runway. It to me 2 hours to pick out three fabrics. I do NOT know how they do it on the show in 30 minutes.

I’m having a spate of heartache watching the nighttime Manhattan skyline drift by on my way out of town. Although footsore this afternoon in SoHo, I was content. I fit. Now it’s back to my bithplace and current abode where I have never fit. It is so nice not to be weird, even if it is only for an afternoon.

Manhattan Musings

Was in my Vietnamese squat outside Swatch at west broadway and prince in SoHo. It was a dizzyingly beautiful October Saturday – bluest of blue skies, sunny and perfect blend of cool to warm and back again. My feet were tired after a fruitless search for a birthday gift for the 18th birthday of the daughter of one of my husbands lifelong friends. He is traveling to Great Britain just for this event. I had picked out a nice little something from the flea market stalls on Houston. Once my husband learned I had bought a gift, somehow that became THE gift, leaving me once again giftless. Of course he had rejected all of my previous suggestions, and had come shopping without even ascertaining her correct size. In a way that was fortunate – no temptation to buy haute couture – what lunacy it would be to spend $120 on a T-shirt or wAy more on something more substantial if one is clueless on the appropriate size. Not like she is going to pop downtown for an exchange from Kettering UK.

On the subject of couture: it is official. I am off the size charts in European couture. The largest size, 44, does not circumnavigate my big booty. It misses by about 3-4 cm. The salesgirl was so sweet- she laughed when I asked if there were sizes for big fatassed people like me It is sad. I now look stumpy; once the clothes get big enough to fit I start looking short instead of chic. The real comeuppance was my middle aged upper arm was also almost too fat to fit in the sleeve. Big sigh. However it saved me $250.00.

Found some of what I’m looking for at Mood Fabrics. However I am surprised that there has yet to be a major meltdown shopping on Project Runway. It to me 2 hours to pick out three fabrics. I do NOT know how they do it on the show in 30 minutes.

I’m having a spate of heartache watching the nighttime Manhattan skyline drift by on my way out of town. Although footsore this afternoon in SoHo, I was content. I fit. Now it’s back to my bithplace and current abode where I have never fit. It is so nice not to be weird, even if it is only for an afternoon.

Blogging Goes Mobile

Most of my best thoughts come me while on the move. My blog of late has ben sparse as I have had more access to Facebook with the iPhone until the new apps came out. Until the WordPress app came out, I couldn’t post from the Safari iPhone interface. Text entry just plain wouldn’t work at all.

Today truly is a happy day. I’ve spent less and less time on the laptop as I don’t have to seek it out anymore to do email. I often think ” I want to blog this idea” but days might elapse until I’m at the laptop or desktop. And by then my mind has perambulated off in other fields. Or, I’m at work and these days there, I’m getting to be dreadfully ” on task” wanting to get outta there. Or I’m in class which isn’t an environment conducive to candid blogging. Who knows who will be peering over the shoulder?

Not that any of my blog posts are private. They could browse it online and read all (or nearly all) But it is creepy writing with people right at ones back.

In a search I encountered a blogger who quit, simply because his stats indicated that nearly no one besides himself was reading his blog. Hunh? Obviously he was seeking a forum,, not a space for journaling on the fly. Still I think it is sad. I’ve had some of my posts turn up in web searches, and all three ( yes, a whopping three) comments on my blog came this way. But this is my journal, and the thought of valuing it or the process, by it’s percieved value to others seems … Wrong.