SMALL MOMENTS

Our Christmas letter didn't develop this year. Instead, we sent a postcard with a selfie taken at San Francisco's City Hall where we went to pay our property taxes. On the other side of the card was our new address. That's all, no note about events, accomplishments, dead animals, or new cars that populate so many annual letters, including ours. Our life this year has been so full of moves (5), the resulting decisions needed, and many explorations of new places we are surprised that we are still speaking to each other. A busy time indeed. When we asked ourselves what we did last Christmas, we couldn't remember. We must have had dinner with Theo and Rose, our son and his long-time girlfriend. We must have met friends for a holiday get-together. We must have gone to holiday events, but they are all gone from our memories like snowflakes that pile into mounds of snow ready for someone to lie down and with sweeping arms and legs make a snow angel of them.

Our trip to City Hall was memorable, not just because of our tax payment. Under the rotunda at City Hall with its broad staircase leading to the second floor, we watched as a line of brides and grooms waited their turn to walk up the steps to the next floor. They would stop midway to take photos and continue up the stairs to the chamber where their marriage became official. What a treat for us to watch the couples, dressed in beautiful gowns and good suits accompanied by friends and family, a day full of promise for them. To celebrate the joy we felt as we watched the parade and remembered our own wedding, we placed our camera on the ground and snapped a selfie with the ornate ceiling as our backdrop. A day in a busy year to remember.

MAGIC MOMENTS

Puzzle box by Martha Slavin

Sometimes life comes with a bit of magic, or at least with a sense of humor. This past month with national news and being busy unpacking, rearranging, and waiting for deliveries to our new place, I needed to find some magic around me.

Each morning I take a photo of the view from our window. I capture the creek and the skyscrapers across the way. Looking down to the park below, I can watch a group perform Tai Chi. I hear the tinkling Chinese music as the group slowly moves through the prescribed motions. Usually, their movement is slow and constrained. Today I glanced down and to my surprise, disorder reined. With his back to the group as usual, the leader waved a wand with a red pompom on the end of a string instead of his sword. The pompom swayed faster through the movements than usual. Three others followed his lead. Behind them, a young woman bounced around with her own rhythm, following the movements but with a touch of rock and roll. Another woman with a stroller danced with her side facing the group at her own speed. I wondered what happened this morning that created such change? Were they looking for a little magic too?

An artist friend and I exchange postcards occasionally. Christine sent me her latest card, composed of 30 drawings of the fantastical art at Burning Man, the annual event held every year at Black Rock Desert. I've never been to the event because of the heat and the blowing sand. She drew 30 3-dimensional constructions she found there including an old VW bus painted in wild psychedelic colors and a dragon slinking through the sand. She showed me some of the magic of the place.

Burning Man postcard by Christine Brooks

Just before Thanksgiving, Bill and I went to Berkeley Bowl, a grocery store founded by the Yasuda family in 1977 as a place to find organic and natural products. Bill and I are on the opposite ends of the extrovert/introvert scale. He loves being in crowds and I like quiet. If he spends too much time in our apartment, he gets antsy and needs to go out for some sunshine and crowds. When I go to a grocery store during the holidays, I become an extrovert. I love being among the bustling shoppers. Almost always, I found the people more friendly and full of good cheer. I know that they, like me, are thinking of the good times ahead as they pick fresh produce, stand in line at the butcher counter, or select a special cheese for an appetizer. We are often more courteous with each other as we navigate around the aisles.

Bill has the opposite reaction in grocery stores and can hardly wait to leave, which reminded me of our shopping together in Paris markets. The customers were not always as courteous as those holiday shoppers and often bumped their carts against Bill as we stood in line at the checkout counter. The holidays changed their attitude and brought out smiles and well-wishes all around. A little magic we all need at the end of the year.

Window View for November by Martha Slavin

INTERTWINING FRIENDSHIPS

House in Noe Valley by Christy Myers

The Painted Ladies that grace Steiner Street in San Francisco tell part of the story of the City. They are beautifully maintained and are famous around the world. Since living in San Francisco, we continue to find neighborhoods filled with many more Victorians. They are common in areas frequented by tourists and locals. They are found on Webster Street near Japan Town, on Fell and Oak near Golden Gate Park, and flourish on Bush and Sutter Streets heading away from downtown.

Like so many other larger cities, San Francisco is divided into districts, such as China Basin, Richmond, North Beach, and the Presidio. In some of these districts, the Victorians have disappeared, replaced by modern skyscrapers or transformed with plain concrete edifices. We are exploring other districts that are not on familiar tourist lists. We had dinner at L'Ardoise on Noe Street in the Dubose area and at Pacific Catch on the edge of the Sunset District. I met a friend for lunch at a cafe in Bernal Heights. Last weekend, we ventured with Christy and Ken, long-time friends, to Noe Valley to the south of the Mission District. With Ken as our driver, we went through the neighborhood, and discovered that none of us, including Christy, a native San Franciscan, had ever been in Noe Valley.

We met the Myers a long time ago before our son was born. Their son was our son's first baby sitter. We have shared many adventures. Christy has a touch of magic with children, setting a bowl of whipped cream in front of my son at the end of a meal, singing old camp songs in the car, or building sandcastles together at the beach. Christy is also an artist and interior designer. When the two of us visit museums in the City with another good friend, she can point to houses in Sea Cliff and in the Panhandle that she decorated. Her family's history in San Francisco goes back to her great-grandparents who came to the City as immigrants. Her grandfather built houses in various districts after the 1906 earthquake and fire. For a couple of years, our son may have lived in one of his houses on Lyon Street. These are Christy's stories to tell and make our trips more fun in the process.

by Martha Slavin

We were delighted by the streets in Noe Valley and Ken stopped to let us out of the car to quickly photograph Victorian after Victorian. We marveled how painters had emphasized the ornate decorations on the exteriors and the stained glass windows that brightened the interiors. At the end of our day, Christy suggested a Victorian Challenge for us to either draw or paint what we had seen on our adventure through Noe Valley. Within a few short days, we came up with differing views of a quiet part of San Francisco.

 

Two Friends by Bill Slavin (his answer to the Victorian Challenge)

FULL MOON KING TIDES

 

    This week the moon rose above the East Bay hills, large as a balloon, shining brightly against the sky. The Earth reacted with King Tides; tides that run extremely low to extremely high. Good surfing time, surfers flock to the Mavericks near Half Moon Bay to dare the power of the water.

Someone once said it's important to take risks throughout your life and continue learning. I haven't tried surfing, but we are taking a risk by downsizing, moving from the suburbs to a city, changing the patterns of our lives, and meeting new people.

We drove through Danville last weekend. Our trip was a reminder of the area's vibrant autumn leaves that we hadn't seen in San Francisco. Instead, we see the moon rising at the horizon, the tides along Mission Creek, and the seabirds that react to the flow of water.

We thought of all the places we have stayed in the last year and a half from extended-stay hotels, a beach house, VRBOs, and two apartments in the same complex. Now we are gradually moving to our condo a few blocks away. We look forward to our permanent move but we don't expect to be living there till after the holidays.

We took the first delivery of our stored goods, which included the furniture that would fit in a smaller space and the essentials for everyday living. Boxes spread across the floor full of clothing, kitchen equipment, house management files not on the computer, and bedding, all that had been packed away for a year and a half waiting for our next move. Finally, I had my cutting boards (both for the kitchen and my art space, which is no longer an art room, but good enough), good knives, egg slicer, and pencil sharpener. I unwrapped the bowls I used to hold rice and vegetables. I looked at the baking sheets and pans and wondered if I would ever make cookies or cupcakes again. We unearthed the espresso machine and looked around for a place to put it. I had hoped to use a cabinet with shelves for cups but it is too narrow and we could see the whole thing being flipped over onto the floor with one accidental bump.

We still have more boxes to come: my art supplies other than the basics I have had with me, Bill's office accouterments, and our books. Still, as we started the unpacking process, unwrapping each precious object from three sheets of blank newsprint paper, I was reminded of a year in my childhood, when I stole into my parents' bedroom at Christmas, peeked under the bed, and discovered all the contents of my presents. When we unwrapped our gifts on Christmas Eve, I was disappointed to find nothing else for me under the tree. I never looked for gifts ahead of time again. I felt that same sense of disappointment as I unwrapped each item from the boxes. Each time we took a bundle, we would peel off the sheet only to discover a familiar object - one glass of a large set, one plate, one cup with many more to come. All that paper grew into high stacks in our living room. 

Unwrapping each bundle, I started a stack of items to give away. I asked myself questions. Do we need eight of these or will four do fine? Or do we need them at all? Would we have parties in our new place? Probably not. Our life has changed again. We enjoy small get-togethers with one or two couples instead, usually at a restaurant nearby.

If you have ever packed up to move, you know that before you move you go through your old place and discard and donate anything you know you will no longer need. When you arrive at your new destination, especially after a long time, and open the first boxes, you have the same feeling as when you pull out the drawer everyone seems to have filled with the detritus of life. In the same way, I looked into our boxes with astonishment/bewilderment as to why these things came with us. Even though we had eliminated a lot from our previous home, we still had too much stuff for a life that we had simplified, no longer needing all those old possessions.

From our new place, we won't see the creek and the seabirds that live by it. Instead, we will have sunsets and a broad view of the cityscape. We look down at the Japanese maples at the front of the building, which still haven't turned from green to their autumn glory. Huge sycamore leaves drop onto the sidewalk until the wind picks them up and throws them into the air. As we walked out of our building, we watched as a young boy stood in amazement at the antics of the leaves and couldn't help but smile at his wonderment.

WINTER'S BOOKS

Since I can feel the chill in the air that leads to late fall and the beginnings of winter, I think of hearty soups, a cozy blanket, and historical fiction that allows me to imagine experiences that transcend time and place. A novel may show me a different culture, a different lifestyle, or patterns of behavior. Some of them show our slow progress to be better human beings and others remind me that we still have a lot of work to do to leave this world a better place than we found it.

Lady Tan's Circle of Women by Lisa See

See has written several books about women in China at different periods of history. In her latest book, she writes about Lady Tan, who lived during the 16th century and practiced medicine, an unusual occupation for an upper-class woman. The book opens up the sheltered world of upper-class women in China, who remained in patriarchal bondage and whose fortunes were determined by their husbands and family. The women were not able to leave the grounds of their family home, were subjected to foot binding to attract a suitable husband, and were never allowed to have a career other than as a mother.

See describes the painful process of foot binding in great detail, which begins when a girl is a toddler. The foot becomes shaped like an arrow with toes pulled under, bones broken, and infection a constant problem. As a reader, you question why this practice of foot binding lasted for over a thousand years. But then, we can look at our own choices of wearing 6-inch high heels with pointed toes, undergoing plastic surgery, and using weight-loss pills to acquire the elusive beauty we imagine we want.

Amy Chui's first novel, The Golden Gate, is set during WWII at the Claremont Hotel in Berkeley. A suspenseful detective story patterned after noir classics, the narrative revolves around the assassination of a presidential candidate staying at the hotel and the three beautiful sisters who may be involved. As I read the book, I could visualize the fedoras on men's heads, the pearls dripping off the shoulders of the women, and secrets hidden behind heavy hotel doors.

The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store by James McBride is my favorite this year. The story revolves around families in a small Black and Jewish community and the grocery store that sustains them. The story is full of great characters such as Moshe and his wife Chona, who own the store, and Nate who works for them. The community comes together to defend itself against the stronger White group trying to displace the community to take over their land for development. The book touches on an important part of our history about White flight, the displacement of low-income communities for urban renewal, and our lack of reparations to those communities. In San Francisco in the 1960s and 1970s, the lively Fillmore District became an example of that saga. (Read On the Rooftop by Marian Wilkerson Sexton, set in the district in that era.)

Two other good books, Alibi by Joseph Kanon and All the Broken Places by John Boyne, are set in the aftermath of WWII. I have often wondered how a defeated nation recovers from war and how the people involved retrieve a place in a healthy society. These two books provide a window into that experience.

Don't miss So Many Ways to Be a Bird

A friend of mine, Constance Anderson, who is a writer and illustrator, has just published a children's book just in time for holiday gifting. It's a delight, filled with painted and collaged illustrations of birds.

 

TODAY AND TOMORROW

 The sun did come up on Wednesday the day I wrote this post. 

 Today.

Today I was going to publish a post about good reads for Winter.

That will have to wait for another day.

Today I continue to feel stunned by the election results.

Today I looked back to what I wrote in November 2016 when I felt shocked by that election news:

"I watched as my watercolor teacher painted a derelict shack. She said, "This is hard." Something she always says when she paints. I said back to her, "Especially today. I couldn't sleep last night." My friend next to me nodded in agreement, and then the rest of the members of the class chimed in with the same news. Some were full of hope, most of us felt shocked. I thought in our tiredness how we all let our vulnerability show. We came together whichever side we put ourselves on, and offered tentative healing words. One man in his 80s, said, "I've seen worse."

Today I realize that as an artist and a writer, I can continue to write and make art of the small things in life. I can write about sailing a boat as a beginner, about animals that have wandered across my path, about being a vagabond for a year, and how moving to a city has changed my life. I can continue to write about people I consider dear friends, family, and colleagues.

Tomorrow I am going to continue to support libraries and reproductive freedom and preserving the natural world.

Today I can make some good soup and pick up a book and a blanket and immerse myself in a story in the shelter of our apartment.

Today I can read the newsletters that give me hope.

Rebecca Solnit: https://x.com/RebeccaSolnit/status/1854179269003637000

KE Garland:  https://kwoted.wordpress.com/2024/11/06/the-day-trump-was-re-elected/

Pics and Posts:  https://iamchandralynn.com/2024/11/06/grieve-survive-resist-love/

Literally Letty:  https://golfoklahoma.org/literally-letty-the-golf-gypsy-will-rogers-and-clint-eastwood/

Americans of Conscience:  https://americansofconscience.com/11-08-2024/#goodnews

Reasons To Be Cheerful:  https://mailchi.mp/reasonstobecheerful.world/the-indian-state-that-went-100-organic-5372315?e=d492e63da7

And I will ask myself the question that Reasons To Be Cheerful asked of its readers:

What will you continue to do to make this a better world?

COMING HOME

Photo by Bill Slavin

San Francisco's fog hung back from the City as we crossed the Bay Bridge at the other end of town. I smiled at the fog bank, looked ahead to the City's skyline, and realized I felt happy to be coming home. We spent the last three days in Livermore in the East Bay sorting through storage containers at the moving company where we stored most of our worldly goods. After each exhausting day, we spent the evenings at a bed and breakfast inn in the heart of the Livermore wine country. We looked over vast acres of grapevines and olive trees, ranch houses, harvesting equipment, and barns, leading to the rolling hills in the distance. We saw a bucolic, peaceful scene in front of us, so much different from our new life in the City.

In the early morning, we sat outside the lodge in rocking chairs and listened to the birds singing in the nearby trees. A mockingbird captured our attention with its variations of other songbirds' songs. The grapevines hung thick with clusters of ripened, purple grapes. We didn't hear the sound of a fire engine, streetcar, or plane overhead. The dampness from the night was slowly drying as the sun rose higher in the sky, leaving behind the dry heat that we were used to in our former home.

We drove to downtown Livermore, a surprisingly large town in the middle of farm country. The town is bustling with small restaurants and local businesses along the main street. We stopped once for coffee at Press at one end of town and for coffee at Coffee On First at the other end. We ate dinner at Uncle Yu's, a well-known East Bay restaurant with Chinese cuisine. Wondering around Livermore felt so much like our previous life, with people looking familiar to us because they wore similar clothes and were doing the same things we used to do, meeting friends for coffee, getting ready to play golf or ride a bike, or celebrating a friend's birthday.

Since we bought a condominium in the City, we continue to bounce back and forth between thinking our purchase was a big mistake and enjoying all the activities we can now do because we are so close to parks, museums, ballparks, and theaters. We like the mix of age groups, languages, and cultures that are part of our new neighborhood. We are glad we have had the time to think our decision through even though our 3-day trip was filled with fluctuating doubts. As we drove across the Bay Bridge, I had a spark of recognition that the City has become our new home, the place we want to be right now.  We can always make a short trip to enjoy country life. Nothing is forever. 

Photo by Bill Slavin

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I hope you have all voted or plan to vote next Tuesday, November 5.

I read this opinion somewhere this week but failed to note its author. The person still made an important, thoughtful point:

" This election is about character. It is not about the character of the candidates, but about our own."

CONNECTED BY MUSIC

Sculpture outside of the San Francisco Transit Center

 Did you listen to music when you were growing up? 

My mom preferred musicals so she could sing along. My grandparents had a stack of old-timey sheet music inside the bench in front of their small organ. I still hum "You Are My Sunshine." Their organ was fun to play because of its stops and pedals that varied the sound of the notes. My dad listened to a violinist named Fritz Kreisler. We also listened to Country music. The song, "Ghost Riders in the Sky," a haunting piece, crept into my music memories and influenced the tunes I listened to as a teenager. I loved "The House of the Rising Sun," and songs by Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, and Judy Henske, who all sang soulful songs that told poignant stories. When the Beatles arrived, their music dominated the airwaves, pushing aside some older styles.

A couple of weeks ago, the Buena Vista Social Club performed in a small theater in San Francisco. They were a sensation in 1996 when their music first came to the U.S. from Cuba. The group formed around solo musicians from the 1940s and 1950s coaxed out of retirement to play together. They recorded an album with their name as the title, which became a worldwide hit. A film about the group followed shortly.

In 1996, their music made people jump up and dance, learn salsa, and discover a Cuba they knew little about since Castro took over the country. Bill and I listened to the album over and over. Eventually, the Buena Vista Social Club slipped from our memories until I saw a notice advertising their San Francisco show. I wondered what they had been doing in the intervening years. We bought tickets and assumed the audience would be fellow followers from back in the 90s, and yes, the audience was full of people our age. Surprisingly, a large number of young people attended too. They were not a crowd curious about the Buena Vista Social Club. Instead, as the musicians, one by one, entered the stage, the crowd rose up cheering and clapping vigorously. I asked myself how we had missed seeing the connection between the young people and the continuing popularity of this group of vibrant Cuban musicians.

This event got me thinking of the music we hear at the nearby food truck park. The playlists include music from our early adult years, including the Beatles, the Doobie Brothers, and Credence Clearwater Revival, mixed in with a few rap songs. Some of the songs are over 50 years old and I am surprised they would appeal to the mostly young crowds who gather at the park. When we listened to that music so long ago, we rarely heard music from our grandparents' era, 50 years before. Old-timey music and ragtime were rarities. Why has the music from our early adulthood sustained people's interest for so long? I wonder too what music we are missing now that will still be popular in 50 years.

The 8th-floor view of people walking on Channel Street by Martha Slavin

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FOLLOW THE TRAILS

Collage of Sidewalk Brass Markers

The admonition to look around you implies that you need to be more aware of your surroundings. That would have been good advice for me to follow one afternoon in Chicago as I walked with a group of friends, with my head focused in their direction, totally involved in our conversation until I turned my head just as I walked into a light pole. Luckily, I guess, I have a hard head and no damage came from the surprise collision. I wondered why a light pole was placed in the middle of a broad sidewalk, but there it was.

If I am more careful as I walk, l can make many interesting discoveries on city streets. Much of what I see is just trash, but the patina created by all kinds of fluids on sidewalks and light poles makes interesting textural patterns and could inspire an abstract painting.

San Francisco city street patterns

In San Francisco, I've also found brass plates embedded in the walkways. Near the UCSF sports center are several discs with phrases such as "Subsequently Allowed to Dissipate" that make me stop and wonder what they mean. Outside Town's End Cafe, I spotted a large historical stone marker next to the sidewalk that describes the history of Rincon Hill and why most of the hill disappeared. On the pavement next to the stone sign, I found a marker that read: "Cholera Expected Here," the words taken from a paper poster from 1850,  made me think of the threat of numerous lethal diseases that were routinely present at that time in San Francisco (and still are in areas around the world without good sanitation).

Brass plates with poetry are scattered on the Embarcadero walkway to the Ferry Building from Oracle Park and line the ramps leading to the streetcar stations. The poems speak of whales, picnics, and driving cars in ways that made me visualize the scene described by the poets. On Fourth Street, I found markers with the remaining known words from the language of indigenous people who inhabited the area before Whites arrived from Spain. I drew a collage of some of the poetry markers I've seen. I haven't completely written each line of poetry in the collage to give you the chance to discover these complete poems on your own when you come to San Francisco.

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View from a window on Tuesday, Oct. 15, in Livermore, CA

A quick travel tip:  If you like to taste wines or enjoy staying at bed and breakfast inns, try the Purple Orchid Wine Country Resort and Spa in Livermore. The photo above came from one of the windows at the inn. They serve a delicious breakfast and offer wine and cheese in the evening. It is quiet and peaceful so you can listen to the birds in the trees around the inn.

We had dinner at Uncle Yu's in downtown Livermore as well as a light lunch at Mornings on First.

Check them out here:

https://www.purpleorchid.com

https://morningsonfirst.com

 

ROOM TO IMPROVE

 In last week's post, I included a sketch page about traditions from Japan that included drawings of a Kabuki actor, sake barrels, and a young woman in a kimono. I placed them around the page and quickly filled the space with other traditional Japanese images including a torii gate, a sculpted tree, and Mt. Fuji. I didn't give myself time to think carefully about the placement of these images, but the sketch was good enough. But during the day after posting my blog, I kept thinking back about the sketch and knew I wasn't satisfied with the result. I decided to start over to see if I could be more mindful of design elements drilled into me in art school to create a better composition, using relationships between elements such as color, size, and shape.

 I have always enjoyed looking at an artist's sketches at museum exhibits more than their finished work. The sketches reveal a lot about how the artist's mind works. Showing the steps I took with this sketch could be helpful to help understand what goes into making a piece of art. 

First version with green

My first sketch needed something so I put a ribbon of green and embedded the words, Japan and Nihon, into the green space. The green helped to tie the various images together, but it still felt jumbled to me. I also didn't like the top part of the kimono. It looked muddy instead of the beautiful fabric that a kimono would often show.

Version posted to my blog last week with green ribbon added

To start over, I went back to tracing paper and traced over the shapes from the original. I made the torii the dominant feature in the center of the page. I knew that its reddish color would bring the eye there first. I moved the shapes around so they weren't as randomly placed as the original. I also made sure that each image touched something else on the page.

Rough draft on tracing paper

 

I used black markers to outline the images as well as the space around them. I painted most of the images with watercolor. I made sure that I limited the number of colors and had each color placed somewhere more than once on the page. Once I had finished that, I looked again and still felt that something was missing. I used a black marker to connect the images together within the rectangle. I think it looks better, don't you?

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This week in San Francisco is Fleet Week, a pageant celebrating our sea and air military. While I am writing this, I am also listening to the roar of jet planes as they practice close maneuvers in the sky. They are amazing to watch. The birds are silent. Usually, the birds scream after loud noises such as fireworks, but maybe Fleet Week, which has occurred for more than 20 years, is already on their calendar and they have found respite elsewhere.

FINDING YOUR WAY

I participated in Sheila Delgado's September challenge.
Here are some of the pieces I did for the daily challenges.

"Each of us comes from somewhere with blossoms."  Victoria Chang

Victoria Chang's thoughtful idea graced the back cover of Poetry Magazine recently. Reading the sentence reminded me of our move to Toyko. We joined with numerous expats from all over the world in a city crammed with over 21 million people. Bill's company gave us lots of move-in information, but the best was a booklet titled "Bloom Where You Are Planted." Most of the expats, like us, stayed only for three or four years and moved on to another expat assignment, while a few put down roots that went deep into the Japanese soil. In either case, a move out of our own country changed and challenged us.

In the first few weeks after moving to Tokyo, we spent almost every day walking our neighborhood, trying out the subways, and looking for something familiar. We lived in Minami Azabu, a district near the center of Tokyo where many expats lived. National Azabu, the local grocery store carried some Western products such as muesli, but many Americans shopped through the Foreign Buyers Club, an early delivery service, to acquire flour, American cereals, and Pop-Tarts. On nearby Hiroo Shopping Street, we found La Jolla, a Mexican restaurant that gave our son something familiar. The staff embraced him with joy. We slowly found other places that became our go-to places, a creperie on a back street off of Omotesando, an elegant tree-lined shopping street near Meiji Shrine, an Italian restaurant around the corner from our apartment, a cafe with dense hot chocolate, much better than the kind we made at home, and Itoya, with its bookstore and floors filled with an array of art materials and office supplies. Those simple connections to our previous life allowed us to step into a world we grew to love, and which challenged our beliefs and values.

Traditional Japan

Learning the language became the biggest hurdle in Tokyo. We came from a country with a language based on the Roman alphabet with 26 letters. We faced a language with 2136 characters in daily use and drawn with a brush, read mainly vertically instead of horizontally, and based on Chinese kanji symbols. We lost our literacy when we arrived as we tried to decipher signage and documents written in kanji and the two other Japanese alphabets (hiragana and katakana). Nothing was familiar. We began to understand how difficult it is for someone to move permanently to another country while trying to learn a different language and culture. An expat has choices: to hide from the overwhelming, to grow bitter, or to embrace the challenge of learning and adapting to a new life and new standards. During our learning curve, we went through all of those phases.

When we returned permanently to the United States after almost six years in two different countries, our son, who was entering high school, said, "I wouldn't be the same person that I am if I had stayed in Danville."

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September Window View

While diving down a Rabbit Hole on the Internet, I found this intriguing challenge, which offers activities close to water in the winter. Bodies of water are appealing to me and I find it calming to be near the ocean. Does water have the same effect on you?

Blue Mind Challenge:

https://www.bluetonic.org.uk/winterchallenge

SURPRISE CONNECTION

Heart sculpture at Salesforce Park, 
one of many scattered around San Francisco

One of art's purposes is to question your understanding of what you see around you. SF MOMA recently installed a thought-provoking exhibit of the work of sculptor Kara Walker called "Fortuna and the Immortality Garden." The garden includes 8 metal automatons embedded in obsidian rocks. It takes a moment to realize that each figure moves. One lifts its arms up and shakes the bells attached. Another strums strings along its belly. Each moves slowly and is mesmerizing to watch. The surfaces of the statues and the rocks are dark and foreboding. The information plaque about the grouping explains that the exhibit "considers the memorialization of trauma, the objectives of technology, and the possibilities of transforming the negative energies that plague contemporary society."

Part of Kara Walker's "Immortality Garden" at SF MOMA

We stood in front of a 20-foot female figure, who very slowly spit out a piece of paper. The slips of paper covered the ground around her and looked like the paper from a fortune cookie. Each one had a different proclamation. Ours said:

A hopeful proclamation

We sat down on the wooden staircase leading up to the main part of the museum and watched as the automatons moved. The exhibit is planted on the ground floor at the back entrance to the museum, which is a foot or so below street level. We both looked out the window behind the exhibit as a 6-foot tall rabbit, a Star Wars character, and a tiger-like being strolled by. Were they part of the exhibit?

No, they weren't, but the people had costumes so well created that we gathered ourselves up, walked out the door, and followed the strange costumes down the street. We found at the corner the entrance to the How Weird Street Faire at Howard and Second, which unbeknownst to us has roots from the Be-Ins in Golden Gate Park in the 1960s. We discovered that to enter we would have to hand over $40 each. We turned away wondering what the whole thing was about. We weren't dressed in costume and we felt bombarded by the too-loud music coming from the fair. We watched as more and more young, costumed people entered the fair. Later, after Googling the event, we discovered that its purpose is to encourage the union of art, music, and technology and to promote peace. I thought back about the two events, Kara Walker's Immortality Garden and the How Weird Faire. Their themes connected them together after all.

The fair is something to put on our list for next year. And don't miss the Kara Walker's exhibit either.

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Find Kara Walker here:

https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/fortuna-and-the-immortality-garden-machine/

The How Weird Faire here:

https://howweird.org/about-how-weird/ 

FINDING GOOD NEWS

This drawing of a Japanese maple in autumn
is a reminder that trees are a symbol of hope.

I have heard from people who say they take time in their day for a cup of coffee and a few quiet moments to read my Friday blog post. That is a thrill to me, especially with the repetitive news that is getting more intense the closer we are to elections. I've been cutting down on cable news, and not reading opinion pieces that say the same thing over and over again. I know whom I am voting for and I want to put my mark on my ballot as soon as I can. 

When people ask me what my blog is about I pause to think. Originally, my main goal was to combine my writing and art together. I wanted to show how my artwork has influenced my life in many ways. The practice of art has taught me a lot about failure, persistence, and "getting up, dusting myself off, and starting all over again." Making art and focusing on something in the moment has been a good way for me to let go of tense emotions to find some measure of peace. I am glad that other people have found my blog to be a place to find some serenity as well.

So often I hear people say that they can't draw. My answer to that is to practice. Would you expect an engineer to design a building without the study necessary? Neither should you expect to be an artist in a quick minute. Doodling is an easy and meditative way to begin. Start by learning contour drawing. With just a pencil and paper pad, you can study an object and draw its contours. As you slowly follow the contours of the object with your eyes, draw a line on your paper. Only look down at your drawing when you change direction. You will find you have created a drawing that is not an exact likeness, but rather one that has given you an understanding of the shape of the object as well as allowed you to let go of perfection. Neurographic art and Zentangle designs are two other doodling techniques that help you focus.

Drawing the inside & outside of a face
without looking except when you change direction

Use contour drawing while looking at the page

Zentangle design

Neurographic art

I have turned off the news that runs through my head (have we really learned anything new about the candidates in the last couple of weeks?) and I look for something to read that is positive. The newsletter, Reasons to be Cheerful, was created for that purpose. The articles are filled with hope and the positive actions of people who are trying to improve our lives. Scientific American has an article called "Being Empathetic is Easier When Everyone's Doing It." Wouldn't it be good to remember that idea in our daily lives? If you, like me, are tired of the race-baiting, bullying, demeaning of others, and lying that is the hallmark of Trump and the MAGA movement, I hope you will join me in voting NO to their cruel behavior. Vote on November 5 like your country depends on you!

Autumn Bounty -  watercolor
The first day of autumn is this Sunday!

Reasons to be Cheerful here:

https://reasonstobecheerful.world/what-were-reading-london-first-baby-beavers-400-years/

If you are intrigued by the importance of beavers, read Beaverland, How One Weird Rodent Made America by Leila Philip

Have you noticed how much empathy has disappeared from our public places?

Read this Scientific American article about empathy:

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/being-empathetic-is-easier-when-everyones-doing-it/

QUIET PLACES

The best part of living in a city is the convenience of walking instead of driving, going to events such as baseball games and parades that occur nearby, eating in numerous restaurants, attending plays and listening to newsworthy speakers, and living within a diverse community. I learned long ago that I also needed to discover quiet, green places in a city to stay connected to nature.

Right out of college, I moved to NYC. Luckily my roommates and I found an apartment on East 88th Street, a half block away from Carl Shurz Park with its Gracie Mansion, where the mayor lives. We couldn't have found a safer place to live in a big city. I could walk through the park, look towards the 59th Street Bridge, and watch the ships and boats ply the East River.

When we moved to Tokyo in 1998, we were lucky to find an apartment close to our son's school, Nichimachi. To reach the school we walked through Arisugawa Park, along a pond full of turtles, green meadows, walking trails, and a 700-year-old ginkgo tree. Early in the morning when we came to the sports fields at the end of the park, we could watch groups of young teenagers, dressed in baseball uniforms, performing drill after drill before they left for school. Once Theo and I left the park, we would pass a woman outside her front door. I would greet her with a slight bow and the formal morning greeting, "ohayo gozaimasu."

When we moved to Paris, we were close to the Bois de Boulogne where we could watch groups of men playing petanque, the French version of bocce ball. We spent more time in Passy at the Jardin Ranelagh with its puppet shows, at the pond in the Tuileries near the Louvre, and at Parc Monceau, on the Boulevard de Courcelles, with its elegant mansions surrounding the park's meadow. Besides the public places in Paris, we had the traditional window boxes filled with geraniums that are seen everywhere. Those geraniums helped to brighten my day.

Here in San Francisco, we've again been lucky to find an apartment next to Mission Creek with three small parks on each side of the building. The two of us walk over to the park that lines the creek to sit and watch seabirds and people going by.

We will be moving soon to a new place in South Beach at the bottom of Rincon Hill, just blocks from the Financial District with all its traffic, concrete, and glass high rises shading the streets below.

I've discovered my new quiet place, South Park, (named long before the TV Show), a block-long park sandwiched between 2-to-4-story red brick and Art Deco buildings. It's a hidden gem, not only because the height of the buildings reaches my maximum for human-scale buildings, but because it has a long history. South Park, the oldest park in San Francisco, was designed as an English strolling park in the 1800s and the street has housed everyone from well-dressed strollers to longshoremen to families and pensioners. Recently, small tech companies have opened up shop in the buildings that line the park. The employees, mostly young, collect together at lunchtime on the metal tables spread throughout the park. Families gather around the unusual climbing structure at one end of the park, and solitary people rest on the benches in the shade. The park is already a good place to go after picking up a coffee from the cafe around the corner. A quiet place in the city. 

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Reimaging South Park:

https://www.fletcher.studio/southpark 

FOGGY ADVENTURE

Sooty Shearwaters hunting anchovies

The anchovies are running up the coast again. Last year in Aptos, we watched as an extraordinary long line of Sooty Shearwaters skimmed across the top of the ocean above the swimming anchovies. This year, first the seals and sea lions gathered in great numbers on San Carlos Beach in Monterey. Then came the whales. Anchovies are food for all these sea animals.

Cormorants  Photo by Bill Slavin

I've never seen a whale out in the ocean. On my birthday this week, we went on an adventure down the coast to Pacifica, a small town just south of San Francisco. Dressed for a sunny day, I looked out the window at the blue-sky morning and turned west towards the ocean. I saw fog. I wondered if I was dressed warmly enough and grabbed another layer. We set out down Highway 280 to Mussel Rock Park. As we turned into the parking lot, a small sand-colored coyote scampered across the road and up an incline. He stopped, turned his head, looked at us, and watched us go by.

The fog hadn't lifted as we parked and walked towards the cliff's edge overlooking the beach. Mussel Rock was barely visible at the bottom of the cliff and the ocean had disappeared behind the fog. We disturbed a young man who sat on a picnic bench near us. No whales to view here, but a spot for someone to enjoy a few moments of quiet.

We decided to look for coffee and headed further south to Pacifica, which is a small beach town broken into three coves by the hills that run down to the sea. We drove around the homes on the first cove, then stopped at the middle section near the municipal pier. The fog lingered around the fishermen who lined the pier. They talked with each other in various Asian languages as they fiddled with rods, lines, and bait. They too were there for the anchovies. We watched as one caught an anchovy, unhooked it, and placed it in a bucket filled with seawater. We looked for the horizon but the fog still covered the ocean. No whales to see there.

Pacifica Municipal Pier    Photo by Bill Slavin

We continued our trek along Highway 1 and came to the southern section of Pacifica. The fog had lifted  and before us, we saw another cove whose shape created a surfer's beach. Surfers lined the waves, their legs dangling off the edges of their boards while they waited for the perfect wave to bring them back to shore. The sun brought warmth, and we parked and walked toward the sand. We looked to the horizon and couldn't tell at first if what we saw was an illusion. Finally, though, we spotted a spout of water erupting from the sea, and then a black object moved up out of the water and back down. Far away, but a glimmer of a whale indeed. We watched a flock of white gulls flying around the same spot and saw spout after spout break the water's surface. To our delight, one whale breached so that its head and white throat shot out of the water.

Pacifica State Beach   Photo by Bill Slavin

When we lived in Danville, a host of wild animals lived in our neighborhood. We heard the cries and yips of coyotes late at night, we scrambled to the window to watch deer leap over our low fence, looked for the one rabbit that visited our hill each year, watched out for rattlesnakes along our path, and marveled at the flight of swallowtails who would return to the garden year after year. A dense city like San Francisco also has wildlife, but they are mostly nocturnal and have learned to be wary of humans. We hear the calls of gulls, crows, and other scavenger birds early in the morning, but we don't see the proliferation of wildlife that we used to. Sighting those whales, even from a distance, reminded me what an effect nature can have. The desire to see wildlife in their own habitat makes me more aware of our connections with other life on Earth.

Whale-watching was a good birthday present.

Check out the Pacifica Whalespotting group on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/352947586172817/

IN THE MOMENT

 

watercolor illustrations for my postcards

This morning, I woke up remembering sitting around a table recently with long-time friends on a warm summer evening and the joy of being part of the relaxed conversation and camaraderie. I went to the window and watched a heron skim over the surface of Mission Creek. I sat to read an essay by a cousin, Carrie Clauson, about the importance of cousins.

Elizabeth Fishel, the leader of the writers group I belong to, once commented that the small moments we all have are not only personal but universal and can resonate with anyone, and are good writing material. Just before a summer hiatus of our group fifteen years ago, she suggested that we each send postcards to each other over the next couple of months. Her idea was my inspiration to write Postcards in the Air. I started with postcards I bought at a store, then found a printer who reproduced my designs as postcards, I sent out those postcards, and then I began to write a weekly post that I published as my blog.

This morning as I turned on the tap to wash my morning face, I listened for the cold water to turn to hot, a subtle difference in sound. I smiled and wondered again why the temperature would affect the sound of the water spilling from the tap. As I was doing my daily puzzles sitting on our tiny balcony overlooking the creek and Oracle Park, I heard what I thought was a very loud car radio blasting music. I wondered how anyone could sit in the car. Bill came out on the balcony and said it wasn't a car radio, but a soundcheck at Oracle four blocks away for the concert that night for Journey, Def Leppard, and the Steve Miller Band. I couldn't help myself and swayed with the familiar music. It was unbelievably loud, but we both wanted to go sit at the new McCovey Park across from Oracle to listen. When the soundcheck stopped temporarily, the Chinese string instrument music of the tai chi class exercising at the pavilion across the street from us gently floated in the air.

While listening to the sound check and then the Chinese music, I also watched a Zoom presentation by Carl Rohrs, a well-known calligrapher and teacher in the Bay Area, about the influence of early 20th-century poster art on the psychedelic poster artists from the 1960s who continue to produce work for rock bands. Rohrs showed posters that the group of artists created in the 1970s for bands such as Journey, Def Leppard, and the Steve Miller Band. As I was listening to his talk and to the different styles of music, I watched two small origami balls that a friend gave me that hang next to an open window. The balls danced quietly with the gentle breeze coming into the room.

The small happenings of life, including various levels of sounds, feelings, thoughts, music, and images, often seem to intertwine. These moments become a good way for me to beginmy morning.

paper balls made by J.G.

Check out Carrie Clauson's column about cousins here:

https://preview.mailerlite.io/emails/webview/341793/129465238831498616

Watch Carl Rohrs' presentation on YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tH70W3ZOhUI