I recently attended a movie premiere for the film, Ethiopia, Staring Into the Sun put out by Seattle’s Sublime Frequencies. The film by Olivia Wyatt documents her visits with 13 different tribes in Ethiopia. Olivia also documented her trip in Polaroids, on view here. The film captures the music and dance of each tribe, and provides no background information, translations, or themes. It simply gives the viewer a glimpse into the lives of these highly diverse people through dance, music and dress. This leaves you to draw your conclusions about the culture based off the visuals. You can tell which cultures are more egalitarian, more religious, more prosperous, and more modern. It was amazing how different these cultures are despite their shared geography. While the tribes’s hardships are sometimes obvious, their passion for music, elaborate dress, decoration, and fervor of dance is truly inspirational.

I think we could all use a little head-shaking, body-painting, drum-beating fun every once in a while.

Ethiopia- Staring into the Sun from olivia wyatt on Vimeo.

Ryan, “Is that Zorro waiting for the bus?”
Mel, “Well if he is Zorro why doesn’t he just…”
Ryan, “Zorro doesn’t have any superpowers.”
Mel, “Oh no? Than what exactly is it that he does?”
Ryan, “He runs around and duels people then marks a ‘Z’ on their chest.”
Mel, “And he escapes his victims via bus?”
Ryan, “Apparently”

CA Highlights

Los Angeles

Stumbled across the Hollywood walk of stars, the Capitol Records building and Iguana Vintage Store. Traffic. More yogurt shops than I could possibly have imagined. Lost. Traffic. Lost. Traffic. Fryman Canyon hike. Coffee at Urth Cafe. Dinner with friends in Thai Town. Everywhere we go I notice hats are very prominent in all varieties- including French berets, and tiny black sequin caps strapped awkwardly via elastic to side of head. Traffic. Fabulous people everywhere we looked – stilettos, mini skirts. Traffic. Hollywood Blvd. Hookers. Canters on North Fairfax - a Jewish deli thatputs Kenny & Zukes to shame. Griffith Park Observatory visit. Take in the views, breathe in the smog.

Huntington Beach

Brunch at Mothers Market. Decide Portland smoothie shops have nothing on this CA juice bar with a 5-page menu. I chose a Ginger Snap, steamed to kill off my emerging sore throat. Beach nap with stolen shells.

Long Beach

Miller High Life on the bluffs. Teenage hooligans throw rocks at cars on the beach below. Lost. Traffic.

San Diego

Midnight arrival, no food served on busy Mission Beach party row. Ran across 4 different puddles of vomit. Beach house bed is full of sand.
Temecula wine tasting. Witness a near cat fight between two female bartenders over which Cabernet we were tasting. Picnic with old friends.
Wedding! Photobooth antics and my first and last Long Island Ice Tea.

Home

Drive Temecula to Portland in one trip. 5 gas stations. 4 chili-mango snacks. 2 energy shots. 3 rest stops. 1 Veggie In-N-Out burger. Home. Sleep.

The Best

1. TriMet
OK TriMet, you made the list this year mostly because I used you more than ever before, but also because I hope it will put me in good standing with you since I am entering the year car-less. While I admit there were days I cursed your name (stranded freezing for 45 minutes at a Beaverton station, or stuck in traffic a nearly motionless street car). Overall, you have provided a year of great service, and more importantly, interesting stories. There was the drunk bum who kept dropping his boom box, the woman who simultaneously ranted about cars in the bus lane while devouring an entire chocolate bar, and finally, the driver who yelled at a mentally handicap man repeatedly to stop talking. I look forward to more fond transportation memories in the coming year.

2. In Defense of Food and Food Inc.
The one-two punch of these two heavy-hitters completely changed the way I ate and bought food this year. In Defense of Food is Michael Pollan’s gentle exposé on the practices and politics of the American food industry as it relates to health and well-being. Food, Inc. which also features Pollan, is a  shocking documentary film on the same topic as it relates to health, but also economic, social and environmental factors. Some of the most shocking facts are those that relate to meat production. For instance, the average hamburger comes from meat from over 100 cattle, and since those cattle are raised nearly on top of each other, are covered in their own feces, AND because they are fed an unnatural diet of corn and grains, they are teaming with E.coli and lack the antibodies to fight it. SO to solve this problem, meat processing plants have turned to washing the meat with ammonia. Delicious! Unfortunately that is really just the tip of the iceberg. The industrialization of food in America spans many issues such as: health, government regulation, immigration, genetic modifications, environmental damage, and consumer protections. Educating myself about the consequences of my food purchases has made me a bonafide label reader, food co-op owner, local product endorser, and near-vegetarian.

3. Last Thursday Alberta Street
I was thrilled when I discovered that one of my favorite Portland events, Last Thursday, grew to be bigger and better in 2009 with the closure of the street for the event. To me, Last Thursday is less about the art (which is often more mediocre than its First Thursday counterpart), but the spirit. The summer sun illuminated a circus-like scene of handmade welded bikes, costumed stilt-walkers, roadside DJs and washboard bands, bongo circles, and monochromatically dressed dancing mimes. It seemed as if the whole town was in costume, observing this sporadic parade and thus becoming part of it.

4. GOOD
I could spend hours singing the praises of GOOD which describes itself as an “integrated media platform for people who want to live well and do good.” They produce a magazine, website, social media content, videos, and events all centered around the collective goal of striving to promote forces of good in the world through content informing about education, politics, environment, health, business, culture, and yes, design. It is obvious to any GOOD reader that design certainly plays a huge role in why GOOD is successful. It features engaging, unique and beautiful infographics, celebrates profound photography and most importantly is supported by high quality content that is gathered from contributors from all over the world.

Here are some links to my favorite GOOD features:

http://www.good.is/post/the-year-in-picture-shows/
http://www.good.is/post/Transparency-How-Clean-Is-Your-Tap-Water/
http://www.good.is/post/creative-acts-that-mattered-at-cop15/

The Worst

1. The local business closures
First went Nutshell, the high-end vegetarian restaurant that wowed me with their salt and olive oil menu. Then, came Urban Wineworks with their painted barrel collection and wine classes. Next, we lost Office on Alberta with their swanky designer supplies and artist exhibitions. Finally, the most painful of all, went Quality Pictures, the Northwest gallery that was my former number one First Thursday destination. In 2009 all went the way of the dodo.

2. Greenwashing
Now call me a crazy hippie, but Comcast’s “paperless” billing campaign rings a little less true to me when they are sending me a different elaborate direct mail piece every other day. And excuse me for pointing out that selling bottled tap water (as most bottled water is) with 15% or so less plastic is a tiny step considering it is largely a product that is the antithesis of “green.” Just because a product is less bad does not make it good. The hard truth is that many products are just, in their nature, not green. Sorry Clorox, no matter how many illustrated leaves are on your natural toilet bowl cleaner, I do not consider your product anywhere near green especially considering your “on-the-other-hand” line up of chemically questionable atrocities.

Going green when it comes to products means eliminating unnecessary products that companies have convinced us we needed. When we do buy, it should be from companies whose green standards are built into the foundation of the organization at every level, and are not just a passing phase. Most importantly, it means buying products in bulk with re-used packaging (package designers everywhere will gasp).

3. Parking tickets
That dreaded yellow envelope on my car. The smug ticketer having long since slipped out of sight. I curse under my breath since nobody is around to listen to my pathetic explanations and excuses. And to add to the pain, new in 2009 came the extended fee hours – until 7pm  – and now no free Sundays. A true injustice and setback to proponents of free parking everywhere.

____________

Thanks to all who made 2009 memorable and successful. Cheers to 2010!

I read about this traditional game when researching the subject at the library (yes, the granite building with the books). There, on my hunt for Winter Solstice traditions of yore, I was aided by three very eager elderly women, who were handing me books left and right, faster than you can say “Dewey Decimal System.”

I finally arrived at Robert Chambers, Book of Days, published in 1869. The Book of Days is an amazing and beautiful old book that describes in detail key historical events, people, and forgotten customs of cultures from every corner of the world. It is organized by the days in the year in which the events, people or customs are relevant. The book is chock-ful of ancient yore, illustrations, and wisdom. In searching through all the pages belonging to Winter Solstice traditions, I finally arrived at the game of Snapdragon. Below is the description from the Book of Days:

“One favorite Christmas sport, very generally played on Christmas Eve, has been handed down to us from time immemorial under the name of ‘Snapdragon.’ To our English readers this amusement is perfectly familiar, but it is almost unknown in Scotland, and it seems therefore desirable here to give a description of the pastime.

A quantity of raisins are deposited in a large dish or bowl (the broader and shallower this is, the better), and brandy or some other spirit is poured over the fruit and ignited. The bystanders now endeavour, by turns, to grasp a raisin, by plunging their hands through the flames; and as this is somewhat of an arduous feat, requiring both courage and rapidity of action, a considerable amount of laughter and merriment is evoked at the expense of the unsuccessful competitors.”

Drafting off this concept, I created a Christmas postcard to mail to friends and clients, and a Snapdragon Game Kit complete with vodka, raisins, and instructions. Maybe, with my help, this ancient tradition will take hold again, and from every house you will hear cries of pain (as knuckle-hair singes) and carolers will sing the old Snapdragon theme song:

‘Here he comes with flaming bowl,
Don’t he mean to take his toll,
Snip! Snap! Dragon!

Take care you don’t take too much,
Be not greedy in your clutch,
Snip! Snap! Dragon!

With his blue and lapping tongue
Many of you will be stung,
Snip! Snap! Dragon!

For he snaps at all that comes
Snatching at his feast of plums,
Snip! Snap! Dragon!

But Old Christmas makes him come,
Though he looks so fee! fa! fum!
Snip! Snap! Dragon!

Don’t ‘ee fear him, be but bold–
Out he goes, his flames are cold,
Snip! Snap! Dragon!’
—
Cheers to new beginnings in 2010 and a joyful holiday!

This September, Portland Art Museum hosted a unique event they called Shine a Light: A Night at the Museum, with the stated goal of blurring the boundary between art and life. A typical trip to any institution of art, PAM included, is typically a very structured experience. Visitors pay the admission cost, then quietly maneuver from room to room like zombies, their attention mechanically shifting from one piece of art to the next. Any communication is hushed and whispered so as not to disturb the aged artifacts of history that hang dominantly above.

Shine a Light changed all of that, at least for one night.

For this one night, the museum was ALIVE. The doors were thrown open, the courtyard was swarming. There was music, food, children running, and beer flowing. The air was electric as adults and children alike experienced the joy of breaking the rules of social engagement for one night. Even the guards seemed to have a hop in their step as the patrolled.

On the second floor, amidst the American collection, an animated group of strangers loudly debated the latest play in the customized card game, Apples to Apples: Art and Labor. Break-dancers invaded Schnitzer Court, filling the halls with Hip Hop rhythms. The Goodman Gallery showcased Varinthorn Christopher, who encouraged you to save an endangered language and learn to count in Mon, a language from lower Burma. Throughout the museum we noticed strange way-finding indicators and signs marking various stationery objects such as decorative vegetation. This was evidence of the mark of SCORE O, a project of the Columbia River Orienteering Club, that created a unique way to “navigate” the museum and explore. The Sculpture Garden was the center point with the most activity since it was a beautifully warm September night, and it housed the free beer. Brewers from Old Lompoc, Laurelwood and Lucky Lab had previously explored the museum  and each had chosen one art piece as their source of inspiration for the recipe of their specialty brew, served up at Shine a Light to an eager public.

But my personal favorite part of the evening, was a series called Serenades: Musical Conversations Between Humans and Artwork. Serenades featured several Portland-based musicians who each composed an original piece of music centered around a  piece of artwork of their choosing. The 15 minute Serenades were performed live in front of the artwork in various galleries throughout the night. I sat cross-legged on the floor of the art museum with 100 or so other curious strangers. I listened to the hollow, metallic, overlapping  hymns of Honey Owens as she, also hunched on the floor, created a haunting melody beneath the Neoclassical painting that inspired it. Later, on the 4th floor, Joe Preston wove intricate electronic musical patterns in and around a large spherical sculpture. The sculpture consisted of many spheres of all sizes whose surface was made of circular metal structures. The spheres were all connecting and interlocking, cantilevered in every direction, yet balanced. As the 15 minute tonal maze meandered, I found myself becoming absorbed by the structure. I imagined it lifting up off the ground, hovering in mid-air. I imagined the spheres unhooking and dropping from their larger parent. Would they bounce?

For the first time, a trip to the art museum was a complete immersive, interactive and truly engaging experience.

I encountered “Gambini” out on my normal First Thursday route. It was the last real art gallery extravaganza of summer, and we were busy hopping from gallery to gallery taking in this month’s offerings, casually sipping on our glass of 3-buck-chuck. Gambini was hard to miss with his coke bottle glasses, giant red feathered coat, and white wig. Although, I admit, he possibly would have gone unnoticed amidst the Everett Street Gallery’s often-costumed crowd – had it not been for his entourage. Unlike the majority of First Thursday hipsters, pedaling their fixed gears, Gambini arrived in a shiny black stretch limo, which he emerged from with the flare and grandeur of royalty. There were bodyguards, photographers, videographers and assistant-type woman in pin-striped skirts and heels, flanking all sides of this red-feathered, blustery, Big Bird-esque creature.

Who is Gambini, you may ask? Well that is exactly the question. It wasn’t long before we were informed by a passing acquaintance that this spectacle of a man was the great, Olaf Gambini, a sixties artist and Warhol factory friend who had recently arrived from Italy. Needless to say, we were skeptical. So was Willamette Week. Here was their take: “Olaf Gambini has been tooling around Portland in a limo, with bodyguards, not to fool anyone but rather to create the mere aura of extreme fame: he is saintly halo without names or recognition, followed everywhere in turn by cameras determined to document the whole experiment.”

According to Gambini’s own website, he is pioneer of the Nothingist movement, popular in Italy. He is known for such renowned works as his classic diptych, “White Cat Sleeping in a Snowbank.” and its antithesis, “Black Cat Napping on a Coal Pile.” Of course, a little digging reveals that in reality, “Gambini” is the creation of a local marketing agency that was hired strictly to create and promote this character. There is no Warhol connection, no Nothingist movement, and even the bad Italian accent is indeed fake.

While some may feel scammed, and rightly so, for the blatant exploitation of a revered art figure, one must give the Gambini credit. By creating this character who is master of Nothingness, he has in fact created something. He stands proudly in his own aura faux celebrity, in one sense, snubbing fame, in another sense relishing in it.

Of course, the faux Gambini’s ideas are nothing new. After all, movements revolving around the central idea of nothingness have been prevalent across time in all sectors of our cultural landscape, from existential philosophy, to the Dada art movement, to Seinfeld. It is how Gambini has launched a persona around these ideas that is interesting. It makes me wonder, is Gambini in effect mocking these ideas? Is he mocking fame & the celebrity state? Or his he simply just mocking himself? Regardless, I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of Gambini, just follow the trail of red feathers.

After eagerly consuming the novel Sometimes a Great Notion (by Eugene resident and bus-painting pioneer, Ken Kesey) and watching the movie, my boyfriend and I were among the first in the door to the Portland Center Stage production of the novel. The play was fantastic and we chose to attend a symposium on the play’s creation the Saturday following the first week of shows. Among the speakers was playwright, Aaron Posner, film director Gus Van Sant, and prankster extraordinaire, Ken Babbs. Babbs was one of the self proclaimed Merry Pranksters who, along with Kesey, journeyed across America in a converted school bus spreading the peace, love, drugs, and rock and roll message of the 60s. Babbs stole the stage more than once because his crazy non-linear stories could not be told from a sitting position. Nonetheless he was an interesting character an interesting message. Plus he has his own Wikipedia article, so he must be cool.

Fanatic Easter displays aside, this was a weekend of many discoveries.

1. Rose City Rollers

From the rhythmic drumline intro, to the body-slamming crashes on skates, Portland’s roller derby scene is pulsing with energy and dripping with sweat and a dash of mascara. I witnessed the action for the first time on Saturday from the crash zone. These hardcore girls get down and dirty, whipping around and around the track, fighting for position, while keeping their lipstick intact. Quite the spectacle for the uninitiated, and highly recommended.

2. The Albina Green

My boy and I skipped the madness of Easter brunch, instead opting for a cup of Stumptown coffee and a morning of wandering. Our afternoon adventures led us to the Mississippi district with our copy of the newly released Willamette Week Cheap Eats in hand. We found our way to Albina Green, a wonderful restaurant tucked off the road. Advertised as “the working man’s rock restaurant” this funky, musician-centered hideaway served up a slew of organic greens and tasty meats. We chowed on our respective feasts, watching the neighborhood church release a batch of brightly dressed and spirited North Portland residents into the rain.

3. Yael Naim
While I admit that it is rather lame to discover a musical artist via commercial, but thus is the nature of this technologically advanced society in which we live. Yael Naim is the Israeli artist making waves with her whimsical and metallic song, New Soul. I picked up her album on that wandering, aimless, Easter Sunday, and am mesmerized. The songs are in English, Hebrew and French and all have their distinct moods and tone. There is even a cover of Britney Spear’s song, Toxic which takes on a seductive and otherworldly rhythm.

Happy Spring!

Im sure Hellen Keller is rolling in her grave. For years we have bought into the stereotype of the blind, being kind, mild-mannered and overcoming obstacles that those of us who are sight-enabled couldn’t imagine. Well no more! Apparently a rebel gang of the blind is leaving their mark on our fair city. Here is a close up of the graffiti carefully planted at eye level on an abandoned building where I encountered it on a First Thursday walk. Blind Graffiti indeed. They are defacing public property and spreading their secret messaging. But what is that message? I run my fingers over the raised dots of the rebel’s code but gain no comprehension. It could be, “1 potato 2 potato, 3 potato, 4…” it could be, “ink a bink a bottle of ink…” or it could be much more. Sorry Helen.