Catching Up ...

OK, it's been a while. Like ... way. Gah, sorry about that.

I think since I've been actually writing for a living, it's gotten harder to write for my own edification. Funny that, actually ... I had an epiphany in the shower back in August that, hey, I get paid ... to write. I'm a writer! It took me 8 months to come to that realization. Well, if you knew how long I've aspired to be a writer, and never did enough (read: anything) to actually accomplish that goal, it's pretty shockingly gratifying to have somehow backed into the job.

Here's a rapid-fire, stream-of-consciousness, top-10 (and other hyphenated adjectives) recap of what's gone on since, what? May? Since my dad was in the hospital? Gah, I'm lame. OK, here goes:

1. Went down to Sun City, AZ (see also: Hell) to take care of my dad and mom while he was hospitalized and went through surgery. It was rough as hell, but it all came out well in the end, particularly my dad's physical health, my mom's mental health, and the level of mutual respect and admiration between me and my parents. There's a lot of intense detail in there, someday to be written, but in short: it was a win-win with a happy ending (not that kind of happy ending, you pervs).

2. Katie and I got two kittens from the SPCA. Two medium-length black fur brothers. They were this striking charcoal gray when we got them, so they're named Earl Gray and Smudge. Practically impossible to tell them apart, short of small tufts of white fur behind Earl's ears. Earl is known as Earl Gray Pants of the Famous Pants Family. Smudge is ... Smooodge. They're never-ending fun, especially when biting our toes during sex. Awesome.

3. Helped manage the main stage at The Crucible's Fire Arts Festival, which was a hoot as always. One of the jobs that fell to me was climbing 25' towers and lighting the pilots on giant propane accumulators (read: flame throwers) every time they were blown out. (Note to self: add to resume the ability to have large explosions go off around my head without so much as a flinch.)

4. Flew to Michigan over 4th of July weekend to help manage the greening team at the new, model for sustainable music festivals Rothbury Music Festival. And that? Was an awesome week.

5. Went to Burning Man. Please enjoy my stock answer when asked how it was: "It was great." So there you go. The event has become more of a community gathering for me rather than a let it all hang out self-expression thing, and that's all just fine. C'est l'evolution. Spent a few days post-event with friends at Katie's family's place in Tahoe which was the perfect decompression.

6. Curated the art for the Treasure Island Music Festival, which was a ball. Brought in Bryan Tedrick's giant steel wing sculpture "Spread Eagle", hanging art from Ezra Li Eismont to decorate the artists' dressing rooms, an excellent interactive piece from Mary Corey March, and artistic furniture customized by Calliope Gazetas and Heidi Sandoval. Very much looking forward to working with Noise Pop and Another Planet Entertainment again on future events ... they were great folks to work with, and they know how to put on a great show.

7. I curated a small show at Gallery N!NE, featuring the works of Thomas Hammel and Ursula Xanthe Young (who I'd wanted to show for well over a year now, and finally got the chance). It's up October 4-13.

8. Currently curating a gallery of photography, and managing a silent auction and a raffle for the Black Rock Arts Foundation's Artumnal Gathering fundraiser at the Bentley Reserve, coming up November 22. Come, dammit!

9. Katie's private massage practice is going exceptionally well (categorize under: told ya so), and she's now working less and making more than ever as a result. And she's enjoying it immensely. Thank god.

10. It looks as though I'll be doing yet more writing for Burning Man, which is exciting.

I think that about covers the important bits, other than watching blithely as the global economy circles the drain. You know, stuff like that. More to come, now that we're all caught up.

Dad Down ...

My 83-year old dad is in the hospital with 2 malignant tumors, one on his kidney, one on his bladder. He was scheduled for surgery to remove them on May 15, but he has since developed a staph infection, and is in quarantine for 7 days. He seems to be responding to IV-fed antibiotics, so hopefully it's not a MRSA (drug-resistant strain of staph), and he'll be able to get back in the surgical queue, but it's all up in the air right now.

My 80-year old mom is freaking the fuck out. And my mom does not freak out. She's realizing the full force of the potential of losing my dad, who she's been with for 45 years, and is coming unwound. Plus, her friends all left Arizona for Utah yesterday, as is their summer routine, leaving her largely alone. So she's surrounded by empty houses, no friends, no prospect of going to Utah (which she loves), stuck in Sun City (which she hates), and my dad in the hospital. Since my dad's always taken care of all the finances (somewhat secretively ... the classic East Coast farmer mentality), she's struggling with how to pay a bill, or which bank account to use. She's having trouble getting answers out of the doctors, and it's clear from our conversations that she can't even process the answers squarely at this point.

This all came on my radar really abruptly (welcome to my stoic family), and I don't even know what to think about it at this moment, except that I gotta get down there and take care of my mom. I'm working on getting DSL installed in their house so I don't suffer under the dial-up, and I'll be able to continue working apace. I have no idea what my timing is right now for going or coming back ... or what's going to happen.

Yay ... good times.

Alchemy

San Francisco isn't much of an art buying town. Art creating? Yes. Art appreciating? Certainly. Art buying? Not so much. If an artist wants to make a career of it, the sad fact is that they have to leave the Bay Area, and head to one of the big art cities: New York, LA, Chicago, or Miami. San Francisco runs a distant (and depressing) 5th.

As unfortunate as that may be, it shouldn't be too surprising, really ... more than anything, San Francisco has a storied tradition of bleeding edge creativity, rugged entrepreneurship, and flying in the face of the norm ... oftentimes swinging wildly at it. Our strength is thus in underground and emerging artists who aren't aiming at the mainstream unless they're doing so through a set of crosshairs.

When that's combined with the laid-back attitude and studied casualness for which the Bay Area is known, it can be understood why audacious spending on a scale commensurate with serious art collection just doesn't happen here. San Franciscans value one another more for what they create than the price tag of the art they hang on their walls.

What the Bay Area needs is an innovative structure for its art market that takes this reality into account, and works with it -- augmenting its strengths and offsetting its weaknesses -- to enable Bay Area artists to make a semblance of a living creating exactly the art they want to create, without having to compromise their vision. Otherwise, artists whose work deserves to be seen, and whose voices need to be heard, will forever while away their days as your neighborhood barista.

I'd like to see this new market become a reality, and to that end, I've been curating art exhibitions for a variety of events featuring an eclectic mix of emerging artists, styles and media. The most recent was part of False Profit's Alchemy, an interactive art event at San Francisco's CELLspace. It hosted over 600 attendees, all of whom seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves as they took part in the various interactive aspects of the evening. The gallery featured a variety of oil paintings, pen and ink drawings, photography, collage, print-making, sculpture (works in steel, vinyl and cement), video, and an interactive site-specific installation. The represented artists ranged in age from 21 to 50+.

It was great working with the smart, driven folks at False Profit, and to have the opportunity to exhibit a strong showing of emerging artists to an appreciative crowd. Now ... to just get that crowd to put their money where their appreciation is ....

The Crucible's "Firebird" Fire Ballet

I just wrapped up stage management duties for a two-week run of The Crucible's latest fire ballet, this time it was their take on Stravinsky's Firebird.

I say "take" loosely, of course, since I have a feeling the traditional presentation of Firebird didn't include disco, funk, fire, a stunt motorcyclist, a flaming tutu, and an actual (not a prop) Pontiac Firebird being flown onto the stage. Yep, for reals.

It's always a good time working on the Crucible's productions. You missed this one? Sucks for you. Big mistake. Next time, go. Good cause, good show, good time ... you won't be left wanting for "You have got to be kidding me, they did not just do that. Good lord, they did just do that."

Big props to the Cru crew and their raging talents, constant innovation, and big hearts.

Yuri's Night

Billed as the annual celebration of Yuri Gagarin's being the first human shot into space (the first terrestrials sent were fruit flies ... followed by a dog, which died a panicked, painful death within hours of launch ... brutal, but I digress), Yuri's Night World Space Party is a collection of 198 parties taking place in 51 countries on 7 continents around the world on April 12th. The Bay Area, certainly no slouch when it comes to parties, stacks the deck by throwing it at the birthplace, home and retirement community of awesome: NASA's Moffett Field.

If you're lame, like me, and get your tickets late, like I did, you really take it in the pooper. At $50 a pop, that's a tall order for getting your money's worth. At the very least, there had better be singing frogs and free-flowing booze and mile-high porn if I'm shelling out $50. Sadly, none were in attendance. And yet ...

It was way cool. Long story short, Yuri's Night was simply the closest thing to Burning Man off playa. It was like somebody had taken the coolest parts of Black Rock City (the art, the scientific innovation, the music, the interesting smart people), combined it with long beer lines, and paved it.

Instead of artists slaving away on large-scale art installations all year long, Moffett Field's freakishly large, awe-inspiring buildings, mongo planes and gigantic signs warning of various ways you can be killed more than provided the recommended daily allowance of WTF? Plus, looking around and seeing a NASA logo when you've got a head full of whatever (and many seemed to, I might add)? That's pretty cool.

Next year, check it out. Get your tickets early.

Hillary Is Officially Pathetic

Today was the Pennsylvania Democratic Primary. Hanging on to any shred of hope, against the odds and all evidence to the contrary, Hillary Clinton remains determined to stick it out and "fight". Because she's "a fighter".

*sigh*

Hillary has become that girl at the prom who hasn't quite gotten the clue that nobody wants to dance with her. She moves in a personal fantasy world, determinedly oblivious to the fact that nobody's going to make out with her tonight ... she keeps trying to talk to different boys, smiling expectantly. Now she's trying to get in a limo to the after party, while the people inside are making quick excuses that there's no more room in the car, Hill, but she just knows she can fit!

Barack, the nice kid, who had spent all school year being kind to her, now sits in the corner of the limo, uncomfortably half-smiling toward her before looking down at his shoes as the doors of the limo close and it pulls away, leaving her standing at the curb.

She's that girl. Nobody wants to remember that girl, and the suffering she brought upon herself. Because we're reminded of the suffering we wrought upon ourselves through our complicity.

The Pope Goes Shopping

On his first trip to North America, Pope Benedict
took some time out to do some shopping.

Sorry. I couldn't help it. Yes, I offended you.
If it makes you feel any better, I offended a lot of people.