I am thankful that, even though I won’t be seeing anyone or going anywhere, I don’t need to feel guilty about ignoring my everyday to-do list because it’s an official holiday.
Thanksgiving disaster averted! Jim informed me this am that our 25 yr old garage door opener had decided to only open the door a couple feet. Both cars in the garage, restaurant reservations hung in the balance. I went to the garage to investigate and to get the make/model to "do my own research" on Ye Ol' Internet. I noticed a handle on a string hanging down from the center thingy and wondered if that was the manual way to get the door up gave it a tug down; seemed to move the center slide thing a bit, but no luck. Just in case, I crossed my fingers and used the remote door opener in my car. I did not say Open Sesame, but for some reason the door was hauled up and across the ceiling. Then I did something fairly unusual for me. I came to the conclusion that it might be a good idea to back my car out to the driveway! Sure enough, I closed the door with the car remote. Several attempts to open it again basically had the door giving me the equivalent of the "LiftMaster" middle finger and now only opens up enough to welcome in various critters, snakes being the most likely to try to venture in. I guess I can proudly state that I saved Turkey Day 2024. FWIW, the restaurant has a turkey special today, but I'm probably going to have scallops because that's the way I roll.
About Thanksgiving being complete without turkey: YES IT IS. I hate turkey even though I cook it for other people. My favorite Thanksgiving was when I was living somewhere else, far away from relatives, and my vegan friend came over. We made three different kinds of vegan pizzas and a big salad. It was fabulous.
The line from the play where the widow won't part with the beachball reminds me of my desire to keep a voicemail message from a friend who died a while back, which today is probably common. I have photos of him and I that I cherish, but his voice keeps me connected to him in a more real way.
May your higher power bless you all, and Happy Thanksgiving!
As we prepare to gird ourselves to gather with loved ones and perhaps contemplate what we can, under the circumstances, still be thankful for, a suggestion from Jerry Herman's musical, "Mack and Mabel" to "Tap Your Troubles Away" may lift the mood a bit. Here performed by the lustrous Anna-Jane Casey, a talented dance company and the superb John Wilson and orchestra, from a 2012 BBC Proms concert.
If I’m a distillate, I will self-identify as a crude one. Reminds me of chemicals we processed in a business. A well-intention move was made to put rain runoff into a pollution control pond. Not specifically authorized, so the state EPA had a chit, and made us contain a weak sulfuric runoff we would neutralize and put into the Delaware. We considered strengthening it with more sulfuric and shipping it, it was a source of baking powder for Oreos. Nope, the sulfuric was too valuable to the gasoline industry. We separately processed it.
The discussion of farm welding, taped bananas, etc. as art reminded me of this:
“Skill without imagination is craftsmanship and gives us many useful objects such as wickerwork picnic baskets. Imagination without skill gives us modern art.”
Richard Tuttle's Tan Octagon looks to me like he stole a swatch from a collection and trimmed it haphazardly . I think I've found the swatch collection Tuttle stole it from:
Certainly the inverse of the famous Louis Sullivan design principle of "form follows function" can be applied to clocks-as-art, but perhaps even more interesting is the use of time and its clock symbol in art. Dali's melting clocks ("The Persistence of Memory") symbolizing a meaningless sense of time comes immediately to mind. But one of the more poignant examples of the many wistful and melancholy expressions of time as clocks in art is minimalist Félix González-Torres' "Untitled (Perfect Lovers)," 1987-1990. Two battery-operated wall clocks, visually identical and touching, are initially synchronized, but gradually fall out of sync. In the artist's own words: “Don’t be afraid of the clocks, they are our time, the time has been so generous to us…. We conquered fate by meeting at a certain time in a certain space. We are a product of time, therefore we give back credit where it is due: time. We are synchronized, now, forever. I love you.” Torres' lover died of complications from AIDS...as would Torres five years later.
One of my earliest memories of The Invitational is an entry from someone (whose name is escaping me right now) which was addressed to "Dear Chuck Smith's mother" - who must have been judging the entries, due to how much ink Chuck had received
Strikes me that whether something is considered art and likewise, cheating on a significant other, both depend on the opinion of at least one other than the artist and the purported cheater. There is also the common thread of self-indulgence, but where it is perfectly acceptable (and in fact encouraged, to all intents and purposes) in any artist worth their salt, the same cannot be said for the "infidel." And certainly the endorphin-like high of getting away with something in both situations should not be discounted as a motivation.
I am thankful that, even though I won’t be seeing anyone or going anywhere, I don’t need to feel guilty about ignoring my everyday to-do list because it’s an official holiday.
Thanksgiving disaster averted! Jim informed me this am that our 25 yr old garage door opener had decided to only open the door a couple feet. Both cars in the garage, restaurant reservations hung in the balance. I went to the garage to investigate and to get the make/model to "do my own research" on Ye Ol' Internet. I noticed a handle on a string hanging down from the center thingy and wondered if that was the manual way to get the door up gave it a tug down; seemed to move the center slide thing a bit, but no luck. Just in case, I crossed my fingers and used the remote door opener in my car. I did not say Open Sesame, but for some reason the door was hauled up and across the ceiling. Then I did something fairly unusual for me. I came to the conclusion that it might be a good idea to back my car out to the driveway! Sure enough, I closed the door with the car remote. Several attempts to open it again basically had the door giving me the equivalent of the "LiftMaster" middle finger and now only opens up enough to welcome in various critters, snakes being the most likely to try to venture in. I guess I can proudly state that I saved Turkey Day 2024. FWIW, the restaurant has a turkey special today, but I'm probably going to have scallops because that's the way I roll.
Good on you.
About Thanksgiving being complete without turkey: YES IT IS. I hate turkey even though I cook it for other people. My favorite Thanksgiving was when I was living somewhere else, far away from relatives, and my vegan friend came over. We made three different kinds of vegan pizzas and a big salad. It was fabulous.
The line from the play where the widow won't part with the beachball reminds me of my desire to keep a voicemail message from a friend who died a while back, which today is probably common. I have photos of him and I that I cherish, but his voice keeps me connected to him in a more real way.
May your higher power bless you all, and Happy Thanksgiving!
Dare I say it (I dare): let us all plunge on to all day of Gratitude.
Dear David von Drehle, do you know what is worse than eating a Thanksgiving turkey (https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2021/11/19/roast-turkey-bequeathed-by-satan/)?
Reading your paean to George Will (https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2024/11/22/george-will-fifty-years-columnist/). After I read it, I felt like I needed a mega dose of insulin. Thankfully, the comments on your tribute served as the insulin.
As we prepare to gird ourselves to gather with loved ones and perhaps contemplate what we can, under the circumstances, still be thankful for, a suggestion from Jerry Herman's musical, "Mack and Mabel" to "Tap Your Troubles Away" may lift the mood a bit. Here performed by the lustrous Anna-Jane Casey, a talented dance company and the superb John Wilson and orchestra, from a 2012 BBC Proms concert.
https://youtu.be/GgPZU3YsMuw
If I’m a distillate, I will self-identify as a crude one. Reminds me of chemicals we processed in a business. A well-intention move was made to put rain runoff into a pollution control pond. Not specifically authorized, so the state EPA had a chit, and made us contain a weak sulfuric runoff we would neutralize and put into the Delaware. We considered strengthening it with more sulfuric and shipping it, it was a source of baking powder for Oreos. Nope, the sulfuric was too valuable to the gasoline industry. We separately processed it.
The discussion of farm welding, taped bananas, etc. as art reminded me of this:
“Skill without imagination is craftsmanship and gives us many useful objects such as wickerwork picnic baskets. Imagination without skill gives us modern art.”
Tom Stoppard, Artist Descending a Staircase
Richard Tuttle's Tan Octagon looks to me like he stole a swatch from a collection and trimmed it haphazardly . I think I've found the swatch collection Tuttle stole it from:
https://www.savannahcollections.com/fabric-swatches.html
So, Gene, I guess you were thankful that your stool-drivin' plumber left your toilet in good working ordure.
Certainly the inverse of the famous Louis Sullivan design principle of "form follows function" can be applied to clocks-as-art, but perhaps even more interesting is the use of time and its clock symbol in art. Dali's melting clocks ("The Persistence of Memory") symbolizing a meaningless sense of time comes immediately to mind. But one of the more poignant examples of the many wistful and melancholy expressions of time as clocks in art is minimalist Félix González-Torres' "Untitled (Perfect Lovers)," 1987-1990. Two battery-operated wall clocks, visually identical and touching, are initially synchronized, but gradually fall out of sync. In the artist's own words: “Don’t be afraid of the clocks, they are our time, the time has been so generous to us…. We conquered fate by meeting at a certain time in a certain space. We are a product of time, therefore we give back credit where it is due: time. We are synchronized, now, forever. I love you.” Torres' lover died of complications from AIDS...as would Torres five years later.
So glad to see you Chuck!
One of my earliest memories of The Invitational is an entry from someone (whose name is escaping me right now) which was addressed to "Dear Chuck Smith's mother" - who must have been judging the entries, due to how much ink Chuck had received
Strikes me that whether something is considered art and likewise, cheating on a significant other, both depend on the opinion of at least one other than the artist and the purported cheater. There is also the common thread of self-indulgence, but where it is perfectly acceptable (and in fact encouraged, to all intents and purposes) in any artist worth their salt, the same cannot be said for the "infidel." And certainly the endorphin-like high of getting away with something in both situations should not be discounted as a motivation.