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Banish The Holiday BLUES

 

The year is wrapping itself up into a tight wad.  You call to confess to me, that you are you “TOTALLY FREAKING OUT???”  Are you running around, trying to cater a party for 30 when you have enough chairs for 3?  Is your budget stretched to the limit?  Are you contemplating bankruptcy or, at least, a reduction in the size of your Barney’s Binge Shopping Budget in 2015?

NOW, before I begin to dish, my special brand of savory information, a delicate stew of warm MUSE NEWS, to which you have become increasingly accustomed, being that it provides a nourishing substance… you require. I readily advise you on how to shake those often ugly, hardened, stormy feelings that threaten spring upon you, to choke you, violently clouding out every ray of positivity, which might blossom, IF carefully tended and coaxed into fruition, during the HOLIDAYS, but instead FESTERS, like an open sore… oozing.  I find myself instantly getting depressed when there is so much pressure to be HAPPY!  Enforced Christmas Cheer pushes my buttons.

Not everyone LIKES Holiday music...Yet, it is impossible to avoid!
Not everyone LIKES Holiday music… Not even every ELF is a Sinatra Classics FAN! Yet, it is impossible to avoid, between October and January!

Perhaps… like many people… you HATE CHRISTMAS MUSIC and come around October, they start to BLAIR THAT CRAP… in every space that has the mojo to command a cash register.  Don’t they understand that by giving US so very much of Christmas, many of us GET SICK of IT?  Holiday music is like rap, country, or heavy metal music… not everybody’s cup o’ Joe… and maybe if it was just for ONE month, say December, then it would be almost bearable, but the shopping centers are relentless in their stream of sonic sales stimulating musical brain invasion!

The Annoyed Consumer, is forced to SUCK UP the “steamy,” sound of “Santa Baby…” for months, imagining tarty girls flirting with their fat Santa, Banker or Hedge-Fund SUGAR DADDIES… Worse, the sensitive soul is ground down by the schmaltzy mix of materialism muddled with a diluted, polluted, Christian message which is pumped into our veins in the toxic form of mainstream HOLIDAY Culture.  YUCK!

Sometimes, just lighting a candle and taking a moment out to be silent is ALL the Holiday Celebration you need.
Sometimes, just lighting a candle and taking a moment out to be silent is ALL the Holiday Celebration you need.

The pure elixir of belief is being mixed into the cheap sweet carbonation of hyped up SALES and shopping frenzies; what might be an authentic spiritual opportunity is turned into a SALES Event! The materialism revolts you…You wanna scream like the Edward Munch painting.  YOU CAN’T TAKE IT! Yet… the holiday MUSIC follows you into Starbucks, another place I want to avoid. “Jiggle BELLS!”  “Jiggle Bells!” Cry monstrous children, that chase you in your thin and flimsy dreams.  YOU WAKE UP!

Stressed… the bills are mounting, the kids (you don’t even have any but IF YOU did it might be dangerous, this year!) are griping, screaming, and shouting! Their horrific excitement about ALL THE TRASH they are about to spew out into the universe.  Wrappers.  Packing. TAPE!  The HORROR of Holiday Cocktails with people whom you do not trust and you must keep your guard and be very polite, ever so NICE!

(Chill OUT!  It is clear that YOU have a BAD CASE of The HOLIDAY HORRORS!  YOU have come down with a highly infectious disease.  Yes.  IT IS TRUE! You must contain yourself.  You must find a means of protecting others from the  bad vibe you are emanating.  Yes, you.)

Thank goodness, you have come to the right place for instant on-line healing.  

Please, allow me, Frau Kolb ARTIST comic relief and aspiring adolescent, laughing here, HEAD and IN CHARGE of ALL THIS FABULOUS CONTENT, on www.talkinggrid.com, to diagnose poor depressed and spiritually depleted,YOU, with the following flowing one-size-fit-all blanket of “ISSUE,” which you may or may not cling to in a desperate attempt to DISCOVER some greater truth, than the basics we ALL KNOW.  The Holidays, are best invested in self reflection, go easy on the booze and pass on the sticky buns.  You don’t need those easy escapes and quick fixes now.  Concentrate on loving yourself, better than that.

Sure, like everyone else on the planet, YOU have problems.  Now, forget about it… The truth is: It isn’t easy being human.  We all struggle.  Just getting in and out of pajamas… buying pajamas and washing pajamas is an epic undertaking.  Add traffic.  Sex.  Finances.  Children.  War.  Race conflict.  Loud Americans (or whoever you feel is invading your space simply by being audible…) and… well… We are ALL ready to SCREAM!  SCREAM!  SCREAM!

Yet, here’s the rub: we all have to find the strength to move gracefully from one day to the next.  It is our responsibility to seek out happiness, good spirit, Cheer.  Not just during the holidays but year round for our health and for the health of others.  We might benefit for some of the prescribed Merriment.  Yet, How?  Come on, my friend… step over here.  Sit down.  Here, on this silken pillow.  I know you are tired.  Exhausted.  You feel used and abused.  No one loves you (except Talkinggrid, of course).  Well… I will tell you a secret…

Sit down.  Take a seat.  Breath. So… Here it is:

“YOU want to shake this terrible Holiday Helplessness that hits you with the force of a Caribbean storm. Yet, what to do?”

Here are SEVEN SECRET, Foolproof, steps to maintaining a modicum of MENTAL HEALTH & Happiness during the sometimes nauseating attacks of Holiday Panic, Holiday Horror! Okay, I LOOK at you and I tell you what ALWAYS works for me.  I have SEVEN SECRET ways out of any little steaming HOLIDAY HELL which you may have wandered into this muddy pit, by accident but… NOW YOU are stuck in the muddy molten lava nightmare, yet HAVE NO FEAR!  Frau KOLB is HERE to SAVE YOU!

1. NOW! Move IT! Nothing will make you feel better about yourself or your situation than doing some sit ups, jumping jacks, yoga, whatever primitive mode of self tuning you practice… get to it.  At least half an hour per day.  NOW! Go UP THE STAIRS!  Walk to work.  Avoid the elevator. Try skipping, as children do.

2. Start your New Year’s RESOLUTIONS EARLY!  Hit it.  NOW! Consider quitting drinking NOW!  Do a juice fast.  Wheatgrass.  Everyday.  You will feel better and you will thank yourself when instead of gaining weight this year you enter the NEW YEAR looking fit and fabulous.

3. Write everybody Holiday LOVE LETTERS!  Screw the materialism.  You don’t have to buy anything for anybody.  Write them letters of praise, LOVE. What we all really want for Christmas is good old fashioned praise and love.  Write your loved ones a few pages of script, extolling their virtues and enumerating their strong points.  Better, mail it to them, even IF you live in the same house.  Send actual cards, with handwritten words and perhaps a printed photograph, to, at least, ONE person.  Yes.  One is more than enough.  (You can even send your letter to yourself in order to ensure you get HOLIDAY MAIL from someone special.)

4. Sleep.  Turn off the phone.  Say, “Goodbye Computer.” Turn INWARD.  Contemplate.  Peace.

Nothing hurts you more than forgetting to nourish your body with rest.

5. Ritual Bathing.  Listen, don’t knock it, till you’ve tried it.  I put a marvelous mixture of sea salts and oils, oatmeal (skin soothing) and green tea powders in warm water and soak away much of what ails me.  Hey… costs very little and most of us can access a little hot water and epson salt. No?

6. Create.  You know, seeing ALL THOSE flashing lights and shows… it leaves you feeling a little EMPTY.  Try painting it out.  Paper.  Canvas.  Board.  You decide.  Or… use words, music… write a SAD SAD Christmas BLUES SONG and blow everybody away at the company Christmas Par-Tay with an impromptu performance!

7.  Apply the SEVEN BOOK RULE!  Here is the KEY to the verdant private garden of Frau Kolb’s imaginary and real experience of total life success: READ, READ, READ!  The deeper your interests, your knowledge, your connection to the fabric of humanity, through its thought which may be directly accessed in BOOKS, will sustain the fragile sensitive you in times of duress.  Yes, books, are my best and most stable friends.  I retreat into them and in them  find constant comfort and guidance.  You can read, whatever you like, whatever uplifts YOU! But give yourself permission to avoid topics that prove toxic or debilitating to you.  In other words, censor yourself, if it means avoid the turgid sea of Ugly Holiday Horror.

Try reading about the Early Christians, Alternate forms of Jewish Faith, The Fluctuations of Stock Market Wave patterns… whatever floats your boat. IF it elevates your mood and is not a gun manual, read it.

Personally, I enjoy books on history.  What kind of history varies.  Lately, I find myself reading more and more books set in or about China.  It seems that Chinese and Asian Studies are emerging as a major focus.  This makes for yet another hobby which while absorbing much of my time, delivers timeless knowledge and thus inspires me to take my personal issues in stride, aware that I am but a drop in the bucket.  Reading is constantly shaping my perspective on LIFE.  I am after many years of interest into Chinese Art and painting but a novice at investigating the language, the characters, the gorgeous pictographic/calligraphic writing system.  This multi layered interest, has brought new SPARK (PASSION!) into my, already full and delightful, life.  By investing my time in learning what I find remarkable, I enrich my life and protect myself from succumbing to the HOLIDAY MELTDOWN which so plagues the Armies of Shoppers, mobbing Walmart for “last minute,” gifts.

What do you want to learn?  What do you want to master?  Tell me.  Tell yourself and treat yourself to time dreaming, thinking, writing, and planning a better now by being more at ease and grateful simply for the gift of being, which in no way means, that we aren’t aware that not everyone is as lucky as we are to be breathing, NOW… and that is my point.  Don’t allow the creepy mood of militant outward displays of canned Christian sentiment crush you!  YOU are more ZEN than that!

Now finally, perhaps this year, I will write you again, a word or two… nothing major… but it is time I hear from you.  Please comment.  Mark LOVE at the top corner.  Share this or another, your favorite of my stories, and PLEASE IF YOU are a regular reader and wish to contribute to the YEAR END Frau KOLB Christmas Par-TAY FUND, CLICK donate DONATE donate at the bottom of the Talkinggrid’s front page. By DONATING to Talkinggrid you ensure that I will continue making time to writing and thereby AMUSE and UPLIFT you with Frau Kolb’s Muse News and Talkinggrid FUN!

EXPRESS YOUR LOVE and APPROVAL for independent Artist/Blogger Absurdist World Traveling Imaginary Friend and Intricate Fuzz Ball, Frau Kolb, via the DONATE button, on the bottom of the cover page.

Thank YOU!

 

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Born from The Womb Room and Ready to Go!

Drained from racing to the top of a collective dream, we retreated into the refuge offered by the elegantly understated, Hotel Pullman. Our room is done in inoffensive shades of plumy gray. A wide desk, a leather lounge chair, and a generous floor lamp allow for serious securing of ideas and floating impressions, gathered all around The Eiffel Tower, and retrieved from memories of last night’s adventures. Our room is a perfect haven for two tired tourists to recover, before transforming themselves into rare, industrial strength, Urban Butterflies.

Ever competent, Hartmuth, is on his lap-top searching for “The Perfect Restaurant.” Reading reviews in FRENCH, with no difficulty, my husband never ceases to impress me.  (He found this, La Fourchette, a website, much like the trusty Opentable.com, website in the United States, where he made our reservation for the evening.)

We coin our affection for the gray on gray, plum room, our temporary HOME by giving it a fitting nickname. “The Womb Room,” embraces us.  Soon, we will be born from it, and ready to go out and enjoy what Paris has to offer.  At the moment we are content to each melt into our very own perfectly comfortable twin bed, separated by a trim twilight gray on dusty plum nightstand, stacked with Guidebooks and anthologies of short stories set in the contemporary French Capital, which I happily hauled across the Atlantic, in my indestructible, stand out peace-sign print, carry-on bag.

I doze with “First French Reader; a Beginner’s Dual-Language Book,” open on my belly, while my husband continues his intensive on-line hunt for “The Perfect Paris Restaurant.”

WE are hosting The Muse for dinner out tonight! She’d offered to come to our area, in the 7th arrondissement. The Muse! Coming to see us! Hurray! What excitement! Anticipation!

I can not tell you how much fun we had the night before. I really can’t. I won’t. I refuse to reveal just how splendid it was.  (I’m hoarding the story, savoring the lingering taste of the mind boggling pleasure of roaming deep into Paris, into the sweet Summer Night, in the quiet and refined company of pure Beauty and Handsome Strength.) In the same league of excellence as my husband, Ms. Crane is an amazing human. She positively thrills me with her keen intelligence and juicy observation skills, an avid people-watcher Ms. Crane makes KILLER cracks about The Audience.

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The Audience? Yes, “All the world is a stage,” after all… wherever we go, Ms. Crane and I experience… a surge in public attention, a blanket of external focus, which wraps around us, creating an interesting bulge.  Lumpy is the attention hurled at us, everywhere.  We only catch that which is useful, wholesome, deftly allowing all the rest to fly past us.  Undeniably, The Muse is so beautiful people crave to facilitate, to pave the way around her, and I benefit for this power she wields, without seeming to notice. Yet, from experience I know that THE MUSE notices everything. She is sharp, keen, calm, and alert.IMG_9093

Our friendship sprang from a mutual connection. Yet the force with which it grew, took us all by surprise, like the famous beanstalk, which Jack accidentally planted, our friendship immediately lifted us UP and apart from others. We found in each other a source of the most precious fuel. An immediate rush of mutual support and genuine understanding, which yields a bounty of frame shaking laughter, and truckloads of unmitigated earth moving, JOY!  Few times in life have I felt such a strong bond for another.IMG_9092

It happens to be that the first time I met Ms. Crane I was in the company of my very best friend. Having flown in from Manhattan, she is a secretive Muse, a blue-eyed lady ninja, who has always had my back.  She approved of Ms. Crane, immediately promoting her to “Someone Special,” status.  This New York Muse, being an apt judge of character, is always watching out to ensure that I’m aware, paying attention to who plants roots in the garden of my heart, she acts like a beneficent pesticide, killing weeds that seek to spring up and take over the ordered peace I cultivate.IMG_9097

Many are startled or envious of The Muse’s intense physical beauty.  The first response is understandable, the second unforgivable.  The Muse has green eyes to make emeralds jealous. She is a tiny mountain of dangerous Alpine Curves. What breasts! What body of knowledge!  The grooves in her brain must be very symmetrical, electric.  Her hair smells of apricot blossoms in ripe summer meadows. She is a living ideal of human perfection, in Frau Kolb’s humble estimation. The desire to climb to new heights in her arms must be universal!IMG_9087

I experience unparalleled pleasure each time she hugs me. Her hugs scoop me up and carry me away from all mundane, ugly, and sinister nonsense which threatens to invade the pristine landscape of my picturesque imagination. That Frau Kolb would gladly travel to the end of the cosmos, to have lunch with The Muse is no question. (The timing of my first trip to Paris is but a token of my commitment.) No friendship can compete with The One that gives you reason to forget all the HORROR and arrive at the simple hilarity of reality. Together, Ms. Crane and Frau Kolb laugh and laugh at all the minor league and rather pathetic, mean people, the two-faced hordes of Los Angeles Liars, the lame Game Players, Aspiring Professional Actors, and cheapskate Name Droppers. We laugh at the pretentious “Grand Dames,” and the cheesy, “The Mean Girls.” In short, we laugh at all those that try and fail to harm us, to damage our enduring sense that living is a worthwhile choice.IMG_3598

We laugh. Laughter heals. Over lunch, or our soon to be dinner, we invite the world to laugh with us and thereby heal itself, because we can not help but roll with mirth when we contemplate our good fortune in having found each other.

This feeling of LOVE is one I know intimately.  Yet it is not ROMANTIC in the way that I am thinking of now… I will never forget our first date, he made me laugh right away.  His humor cutting through my New Yorker attitude and introducing me to a new vulnerability I hadn’t been able to afford before his muscle and brains came into my life.  Thereby, my WHITE KNIGHT books the room for love and laughter, healing, and feeling good.  He secures the possibility of my joy.  He protects me and provides for me, the way that I always dreamed ONE would. He performs this service and many others promised and did not deliver, without prompting.  He is dynamic, active in his LOVE.  Because, LOVE is NOT A THEORY!  Love is laughter, support, understanding, and flowing fuel into the tank of one’s soul.  Love is reciprocal, life sustaining, and energizing on the cellular level.  It makes the world spin

NOW,  my German Genius has found, “The Perfect Restaurant.”  We are dressed.  I’ve changed into a long sleeved silk blouse with a coral collar, thick black tuxedo slacks, with a traditional side seam, and I’ve carefully stuffed my swollen foot into platform Prada heals.  I’ve applied a dash of make-up and we are ready to GLOW!IMG_3597 IMG_9072

Thus, we set off to Je thé… me where we met and established the greatest admiration and affection for the most charming restauranteur and entertainer: Jacky Larsonneur  He treated us like old friends on our first visit.  We arrived early and stayed well beyond closing, indulging in fabulous French wines and the after glow of a perfect traditional yet innovative dinner to exceed our expectations and etched permanent smiles on our newly adopted French faces.

 

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The First Steps: Walking in Paris

IMG_8843After our first Parisian Cafe Lunch, we walked. All over the world, walking is NATURAL! Walking is FUN! I love walking, on sidewalks, in Paris, in New York, and London.  Frau Kolb walks everywhere.  We hit the streets, for a few hours, of neighborhood window shopping and mental preparation for THE MAIN EVENT!!!

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Yes, I admit it. Frau Kolb has an agenda. Frau Kolb is on a special mission in Paris. Frau Kolb has flown across the United States of America and The Atlantic Ocean to see HER, The MUSE. Well, there are three embodiments of femininity that are now associated forever to Paris in Frau Kolb’s mind. The first is La Tour, the Eiffel Tower. She is beautiful, beyond belief. A perfect structure, calling out to visitors from every corner of the round planet, she beckons and they come in droves and have for well over a hundred years!  She is entirely delightful, worth every effort and amazing, as a source of pride and a point from which one can see all Paris from her busy heights.  She offers the best perspective over Paris.  Presenting the entire city for eager eyes to take in.  But one can never forget the fleeting, shifting, ever-changing glamour and thrill which is being high up, over Paris.  What a perfect structure!  Absolutely, my favorite tourist attraction, in the world.

The Mona Lisa, queen of the Italian Wing in the Louvre Museum, Paris.  She is, after all, the attributed work of all-time-genius Leonard de Vinci, the time-traveling Master of Scientific Creativity in Art. She, too, like the tower, pulls in visitors, cameras clicking, maniac desperation for a glimpse of her famously enigmatic smile, grips the public. (I pay homage to Mona’s marvelous appeal in coming posts… and pending pages. You must only return to Talkinggrid to witness the coverage of La Giaconda’s madding appeal.)

Paris's Italian Draw, at the Louvre, behind glass...Tourist hordes & Frau Kolb pay paparazzi homage.
Paris’s Italian Draw, at the Louvre, behind glass…Tourist hordes & Frau Kolb pay paparazzi homage. However, in the words of the one and only chief, living MUSE of Talkinggrid, Ms. Crane “Fuck the Mona Lisa!” What a refreshing position!  This option had not occurred to me! Talkinggrid’s Instant Expert on all things Paris, Ms. Crane was brimming insight into the necessity of avoiding the hordes, the “selfie girls,” among the ravaging armies of tourists coming from ALL OVER THE WORLD to snap a picture of her little tight lipped, butter won’t melt, is-it–smirk (?), FAMOUS smile. According to Ms. Crane, “She’s not worth it.”  She is rather, “small.”  Mona is closely guarded and behind glass.  This painting is the ultimate untouchable object.  (Who can resist?)

Ms. Crane in Paris.  What could be better?  Now, Frau Kolb had a real reason to rush, to arrive, to be in Paris.  Her glowing presence, more important to me than the mystery of the Mona Lisa’s smile or the breathtaking sparkle of the Eiffel Tower.  Muse Crane’s unique radiance, fuels Frau Kolb urgency to visit Paris in July 2014, for the first time, and not sooner or later.  One simply must see the most beautiful living MUSE ever known, in the city most famous for its beauty.  It had to happen. There was no choice. Ms. Crane’s pull is so strong.  Her soul, her AMERICAN sense of FREEDOM, is so beautiful, one would gladly fly across the ocean to witness her bloom in the ancient center that is Paris, France and listen to her thoughts on life, love, and business in this magnificent city.  Wise beyond her years, Ms. Crane, inspires thought, action, and admiration wherever she goes.  Thus, Frau Kolb follows the Muse, wherever she may frolic.

As we walked around, performing a quick inspection on the pretty surface of marvelous, manicured, Paris, taking our first steps and photographs to share, Frau Kolb was anticipating the pleasure of communing with THE MUSE in her new perch, Paris, a worthy pedestal for Ms. Crane’s  world class appeal.

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Le Grand Art Adventure: Frau Kolb in Paris

Paris! Strange to be on a plane, going to a place so familiar from film and literature, that it feels more like a homecoming, instead of an arrival at a new destination.  Paris, weirdly, is tremendously familiar,  it is almost another home.

Does everyone feel this way, arriving in Paris?  

So many have visited Paris before me, before us…  Paris is a city that dwarfs the biggest ego.  Considering who I am, and what interests me most (Art and History!) it is strange that I’ve before never visited famed Paris before, today.  It is a momentous occasion in the history of Frau Kolb!

Have you been to Paris?

Indeed it is odd to think, that I, Frau Kolb, experienced globe trotter, am a bone-fide virgin to Paris. Paris, old and self regenerating center, holds unique appeal. Yet, Paris is a virgin to Frau Kolb. A ripe and fertile beckoning. The dynamic, conquest driven, Frau Kolb, cannot resist the call of legend. One more big goal checked off the bucket list.  Ah!

The murmuring of the Seine, snaking around the watery core of an ancient multi-layered city.

So… here I am loaded with guide books and ready to add my experience of it to the wealth of history which defines this rich old dame. She dazzles, I hear. “The City of Lights,” They call her! I listen to her name, whispered, shouted, co-opted. A wistful nostalgia for other times grips me. I feel one with Josephine Baker, mistral performer and emblem of beauty. Her banana peel dress forever revealing, appealing.  This trip has, is a dream come true and I am delighted to be able to share my observations and discoveries with you.  Thank you for reading.

I am applying my sacred SEVEN BOOK RULE. Yes, this is the key stone of Frau’s success in many aspects of life, not being perfect, yet being certain… confident.  Paris, is wondrous to read and apparently to write about.  So many books are available about this city.  Paris is a city that has inspired artists, architects, writers, and others without professional claim to aesthetic understanding. Paris is a Grand Muse, so much is written about her, she is famous, beyond measure.

 

I’ve arrived!  Behold the legions of tourists!  I am among them.  Camera clicking, what has been photographed countless times, but never before by me.  I’m so happy to be here, realizing a life goal.

On the plane, I dealt a serious blow to TIME by reading, a tidy little hard-back full of simple colorful images, stark in its naive and charming comparisons between the two cities,Paris Versus New York,” by Vahram Muratyan. I am a New Yorker. Born and Raised in Manhattan, I know the grid and its ease, the speed with which one can traverse worlds, any day in Manhattan. I know about bagels, yet baguettes were always an option. The beginning of his book works much like the beginning of this post. He introduces us to Paris as a woman, an individual of unique strengths and mysterious, enduring, character. Seductive, Paris, is even to those that call her home. She is like New York, only older. I storm through that picture driven book, soaking up a few of his impressions, and moving on, but not before asking myself about that book I was reading yesterday and last night, “Paris, Paris.” by David Downie, until I passed out, exhausted from PACKING FRENZY and FRENCH STUDY, went… I pick up a thick paper back, I’ve hauled a number of books with me onto the “Business First,” seat my Dearest booked for the trip. The book I chose is… not high brow, not an elegant seemly tome but a door-stopper, heavy in page weight and light in content; Edward Rutherford’s, “Paris,” pops into hand. Now, I don’t know if you know about Rutherford’s work. You might. It is likely that you know it like I do, as a secret passage into the annals of history light. He weaves a pleasant tales into the fabric of known history often placing his characters as witnesses to the great events of a historical epoch. I started reading Rutherford when I was a girl. “Sarum,” was the first book of his I read.  I enjoyed it very much and followed up by reading others of his books.  Eventually, the formulaic style of the author wore out my interest and I’ve not read one of his books in almost a decade.  This, too, is a type of return to the known, the familiar author, with his soothing uncontroversial, light writing style fits the mood of this maiden voyage to picturesque Paris! IMG_8782

 

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Wilkomen to the New and Improved Talkinggrid!

Toy Airplane in Blue LightIt isn’t everyday that a dream comes true.  Today, you are witnessing a little arrival, a taste of fulfillment uplifting Talkinggrid and creating a site where we can exchange ideas and laugh together at the madness.  The position which Talkinggrid holds dear is that each perspective matters.  Yet, the artist’s understanding of the world is one of particular interest.  Thus, we interview artists, engaging in intimate art chat.  Yet, we don’t stop there.  We continue.

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Art Chat with Artist Terri Amig

Yesterday, I had the most exciting art chat with artist, Terry Amig.  She abides Somewhere Pretty and Rural, in New Jersey, on the east coast of the United States.  Amig is known as an independent working woman, making art which she defines in terms of excellence; which may or may not be readily accessible to the jaded, the inexperienced, and/or cursory observer.  Thus, her work is a HOT SECRET, between us. Or is it a torch leading the benighted toward the opening of the cave, toward the radiant sunlight?

Stick around… you might learn something…

Amig’s work captures the sacred spark, the glowing ember, the elemental in, at-first-glance innocuous animal portraiture.  Yes, animal portraits… I know, this is NOT the kind of thing… that urban hipsters dream of hanging above their beds, on the cracked walls of their hemmed in love shacks.  No.  This is fine art for thinkers; humans ready to arise and awake, from stupor of mind, dancing away from the prevalence of contemporary art cheap tricks, overnight, “sensations,” and other fleeting fancies, which in our distinctly intoxicating times, heady days of lush entertainments and dazzling circuses galore, all on-line and ready to be downloaded with a click… to the deep brown eyes of a (perfectly rendered, highly yet not hyper realistic) cow, wet and sparkling like the self regenerating and spiritually renewing water on the original well’s glittering surface; painted faithfully to fool the eye and seduce the viewer into a conversation with the infinite… a reminder of the depth of love which animates us.  Each living being represents the outcome of a miracle, an explosion, a sparkling spray of cosmic water.  Kaboom! The birth of beauty; as represented in ancient mythology and in later literature is frequently that which happens at the site where the ocean kisses the earth and there from the sea foam; perfection springs.  Somehow, Amig addresses the spirituality and vulnerability of the viewer with a mirror image an equally valuable soul in encased in the body of “beast of burden.”  Inviting questions about one’s own “Farmed Animal,” status.

Amig is pure energy; a bright white flame in the cold icy night of nothingness, which may be precisely why she is so firm and secure in her artistic vision.  She charts her own course and conducts meticulous multi-level spiritually charged excavations into meaning; discovering, renewing, and recovering the underlying truth which makes her work to par with the great Ad Reinhardt’s, an abstractionist focused on pure form and color; entirely non-objective art…whose work is virtually faultless and offers a bench mark for excellence in another visual language; almost diametrically opposed to Amig’s representational work; yet as rich and deep; like the ocean and the fruits of her ongoing investigations; Amig pours  into her work, thus imbuing it with the eerie life that classical painters of lore, mastered.   She is refreshingly youthful, brimming with vitality, with ice blond curls and sapphire eyes, she has a “Roman nose,” according to all accounts.  Her passion for life and for painting fiercely, from a place of deep full-time mindful conscious art practice, is evident in every nearly invisible wondrous strokes of smoothly applied paint.  

Amig’s laser focus, and unwavering determination to create, make it a snap to distinguish her work from that of others. 

Amig, whose name issues an invitation of friendship with the earth, a woman/artist with a message; conducting extensive personal research into the sources of life; reproduced into polished art works of enduring charm.  Amig courts the life-giving forces; she is out in the field, in the larger world, asking questions and being of service to the ones fortunate to have her nearby… thank goodness for the telephone… thank goodness for methods of communication, painting included, from which all quantity and quality of life experience and ancient understanding, may suddenly, spring and be shared in cups of casual intimate informal art-chat here on Talkinggrid and elsewhere; where it matters and encourages LIFE.

In its unending diversity and emotional interest; I’d readily label Amig’s work as “Contemporary Treasure,” booty for those LOOKING for art with SOUL, salvation, maybe for those looking for a well dressed emperor… “There is no Emperor,” Amig informed me.  This fact, which the unenlightened might pass by, is the key to understanding the “secret ingredient,” the magical quality of Amig’s work,  which is informed with an interest in the stories of epic magnitude, handed down from one generation to the next, to be are embedded in Amig’s artist ouvre.   Amig packs more meaning into painting designed to be decoded only by the eyes, hearts, minds, which remain WIDE OPEN to the new within traditional painting; which pushed aside for the cheap thrills of sloppy chops, paint spray (which don’t get me wrong, I love…) or chewing gum installations… are not silenced but rather, distinguished and rendered even more worthy of respectful attention by ernest reflection.

The basis of her production is cemented in the reality of excellent technique, finish; Amig is a classically trained painter that did her stint at Cal Arts; so is versed in postmodernism and conceptual practices… up-to-date; showing regularly and with a solid career of art production behind her; Amig staunchly refuses to abide by existing dogma which prescribes or apparently delineates what is and what is not vogue art.  She is burns bright and steady; fueling a simmering following, which may boil over into fame, if not carefully managed and avoided, Amig might find herself stranded on the high peaks of chilly STARDOM; splashed by praise, and surround by oceans of admirers…  of those ready to see contemporary painting worthy of study, immersion created by a brilliant woman.

Brava, Amig!  I salute YOU! 

Love,

Frau Kolb

***Remember to faithfully call the geniuses that populate your world, from time to time connecting with their tender spirits; beings far away, these cherished friends,  are sources of experience and inspiration… Yes, indeed Frau Kolb recommends you devote time to the telephoning of Muses.

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Get Fresh Baked Muse NEWS with artist Nancy Baker on Kara Walker’s New Art

ATTENTION TALKINGGRID Heads: artist Nancy Baker, Brooklyn resident, and Frau Kolb in California; have met, on-line, and had an intimate and revealing, private ART CHAT of monumental significance… Baker is an excellent source of HOT MUSE NEWS and ART DISCOURSE.  YEAH!  We discussed the work of famous artist, Kara Walker!  

What an informative, prize-worthy, art chat!  I’m pleased to have spoken with artist, Nancy Baker  this morning.  She is an outstanding art thinker and educator, the kind of person who speaks with candor and confidence based on a lifetime commitment to art practice.  This morning she transformed my understanding of an artist whose work I’ve repeatedly dismissed.  Baker speaks eloquently on the necessity for political art and on how that singular urgency manifests in her own art practice.  She is, moreover, an effective advocate for Kara Walker’s work.  Prior to our conversation I had serious reservations around the Walker’s work (scroll down, see below for more on my initial reaction to Walker’s magnificent achievement was repulsion).  I thought of it as toxic waste in lacy silhouette cut-outs, to which which I was exposed in 1998 at the Drawing Center exhibition in New York.  The work is famous for its ability to defy critique by being unassailable “art smart.”  Baker is defending Walker from other artists who, quickly label Walker’s new work as being related to Jeff Koon’s puppy pieces in their high polished bling-bling luster, gigantic jewelry, catering to the tastes of the rich and fashionable institutional collectors.  In other words, work which in my book is industrial scaled commerce and therefore, “NOT ART!”

In my experience, Baker is a seriously sound addition to any team, I’ve studied her work and visited with her in person during her participation in a group show in Chinatown, Los Angles, several years ago.  It was striking, today, during our art chat to listen to Baker, an artist I admire; speak with sincere admiration for Walker’s achievements.   To hear an artist’s whose work resonates with me, speak with such intense appreciation of the more famous artist’s oeuvre quickened my heart and invited reflection, pause, and… I had to rethink my position and wrap my brain around Baker’s more informed and expansive take.  I’m glad I did.  Because, now I feel so at ease; like a convert to a “better,” religion. 

Walker, may need no defense, she is her own excellent advocate being experienced in verbal self-defense; possessing master-class public speaking skills, terrific good looks, the prowess, and–––indispensable––– early training in mental acrobatics which are required of any artist whose work is not merely pretty but rather unsettling, disturbing, and like quicksand… such as Baker, who produces haunting collages of finely cut filigree paper emblems and logos; seductively glittering like a winking whore on speed…have impressed me so on-line that I went out-of-my-way to see them… to see the little knife slit paper pieces; cut and precise in a unforgettable rather than,  deadly embrace; one finds the hurt of generations long ago; or the minor nuisance of a broken nail… or of coagulated pain of others, to whom we are nonetheless kin. Dealing with the legacy of institutional pain to which we all belong; is no individual experience, rather a binding one.

 The sound of screaming: “The Horror!  The Horror!” goes both ways, down a hall of mirrors, into the far corners of eternity, the screams of tortured souls; beaten, starved, hurt, and humiliated… creating work which gives voice to some of the repressed grumblings… ah, now this resonates on deeper levels and begins to erode my decade-long, entrenched, aversion to Walker’s, MONUMENTALLY SCALED dirty work.

In other words, Frau’s views were reshaped, chiseled into a new understanding, of Walker’s world class mastering of the symbolic material of language.  Her use of the ancient, Sphinx of Giza harking back to arguments that prove that Grecco-Roman civilization was in large part inherited from Egyptian predecessors; attributing to the African Continent; the source of all advanced Western thought… being the spot; that some like to say, which was chosen by Napoleon’s troops for target practice… others blame the Muslims… for the Sphinx’s missing nose… who knows?   In the context of contemporary art; the “Mammy” revived from pancake boxes and early cinema glory; is BACK; which makes perfect sense, when Andy Warhol’s work is taken into account!  The Sugar Babies flanking her are no longer quite as offensive to me; until earlier today I was fuming over the… sticky melting monstrous vulgar rat attracting mess… now the Sugar Babies and the White Sphinx blaze in Frau’s freshly washed brain; unmasked and transformed from cocktail banter to… significant art; no mere catering to the master’s taste for sweet guilt and bitter pills; Walker’s work may be considered national housecleaning.  Ah!  Eureka!

Finally, terms which Frau Kolb can comprehend the necessity for art to cleanse the past… If SUGAR BABIES are the way… so be it.

After speaking with Ms. Baker, I see clearly… sparkly, even…my view of Walker’s work was previously tainted by my own prejudice, of course, I know that… Thanks to Baker’s surgical understanding of the methods and motives maybe fueling Walker’s meteoric rise to Art World Alpine pinnacles of recognition and empowerment, Frau Kolb is feeling more enlightened.  Laughingly, Baker report’s of an anonymous friends comment upon seeing Kara Walker and her white sphinx at the Domino Sugar factory in Brooklyn…  as mirroring the fetid shiny surfaced giant puppies of Koon’s factory output.  For Baker it was the sugar babies; “melting back into where they came from which,” the sugar factory floor… touched her… moved her, despite the fact that most of the mainstream conversation has focused on the central “White Sphinx,” piece, dominating the exhibit.

Photo published with permission; ©Nancy Baker, 2014

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Discovering ART & Improvisational Comedy with San Diego ART Institute NEW Director

Discovering ART & Improvisational Comedy with San Diego ART Institute NEW power-house Director, Ginger Schulick-Porcella

On Friday, May 23rd, Frau Kolb caught up with Ginger Shulick-Porcella at Finest City Improv in North Park, for “The World According to…

A self possessed woman with piercing eyes and a powerful presence, Schulick-Porcella is now the Director of The San Diego Art Institute 

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Her glittering eyes… caught the stage light, not only did Schulick-Porcella look entirely charming in her black jeans and fringe black cowboy boots, topped by a primitive rough cloth, blazer…  She shared of herself with fearless aplomb.  Unperturbed by the comics running amok in their shredded version of her condensed, “Life Story.”  Erect in posture, alert of mind, Schulick-Porcella held her own against a way-ward troupe of merry-makers, who play-perform by skimming data from the surface of a public-person’s identity and then creating an on-stage hash-up of rehearsed and well-timed gags; spinning the material into tinsel hilarity.  Drawing laughs out of an audience looking to see this week’s local personality, “roasted.

Notably, Schulick-Porcella, talked of her gorgeous Puerto Rican “DEAD DOG BEACH,” rescue dog, “Maya Papaya,” a little girl of tremendous beauty, Schulick calls her, “PUP-l’britty.”  Get it?

Maya Payaya is a stunner:

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Hah!

Who doesn’t love a powerful young woman with a hand-made sweater-wearing dog? “Maya Papaya,” has side job, aside being a pampered pet, she models.  Get that!  Schulick-Porcella’s dog, M O D E L S in magazines.  If that isn’t wild… well, I don’t know WHAT is… Anyway…

The little stage, bar, adjacent to a hotel, which also has a bar, in North Park, San Diego, a slightly seedy but always sweet neighborhood known for its Gay Bars, and its unending party atmosphere. The Finest City Improv has a cosy, inviting, vibe.  It is an unassuming and approachable spot.  (I, must admit, being tempted to jump on the stage and join the troupe. They really appear to be having a royal blast, lampooning Schulick’s very dry account of growing up somewhere rural with “lots of motorcycles, cars,” and “no animals, no cows, no sheep…” BAH!  MOO!  HONK!  CACKLE! Snort. She said she was, “a horse riding and book reading girl.” These facts, I’m not sure the troupe knew what to make of her… the somewhat eerie cool, calculated—maybe–strange poise and well, when they asked her first impressions of San Diego, she said it was a “BRO-Town,” with too many FAKE friendly, “passive aggressive,” people whose immediate bid for intimacy, she finds off-putting.  It warmed my heart to hear her put into words my own frustrations and feelings about ever-sunny San Diego’s yet famously flighty folks. We share a strong preference for succinct and straight forward communication styles: conventionally employed in Chicago, perhaps, and the east coast, A FUCK YOU is certainly (!) and undeniably crystal clear. Tah Dah!

Schulick-Porcella has a very determined air… Did I mention, that she was wearing a fitted little blazer emboldened by a primitive, almost savage looking, print?  I really liked it… I’m very curious about young woman’s destiny. Will she triumph?  She has a challenging BIG assignment before her… Will she turn the San Diego Arts Institute into a destination of note on the international art map of destinations?  WE shall see… I vow to follow and document her progress on your behalf.  I will also tell you:

She wears her hair slicked to one side like a naughty 1920’s flapper, she is decorated with numerous inky and intense tattoos, not the type that were designed to be hidden, they seem to drift in and out of view, butterflies of interior anatomical views and scrolling letters… This is no conventional “horse-riding and book reading,” human.  She is a woman with spirit that evokes admiration at first glance because she is clearly at ease in her own skin.  This is a quality that bodes well for the future of San Diego as a destination, a home, and a playground for power-house creatives, like Schulick herself, who has experience in performance and other modes of creative expression.  Artist, Margaret Nobel said to Frau, “Ginger is funnier than the comedians.”  It is true that she holds attention; like a bull’s eye.  Let us SEE… what will she do with the San Diego Arts Institute to bring it into the crossing of Commerce, Art, Popularity, and Trending…* An art collector’s new perch… a public’s new source of inspiration, which is what any art institute should be, right?

WE, at www.talkinggrid.com,  shall follow Schulick-Porcella’s progress and perhaps gain an intimate, cosy, and first hand understanding of how precisely one goes about transforming an arts institute into a “more inclusive,” and “dynamic,” destination.

In the meantime, scroll down for more “intimate ART Chat,” with artists; Don Porcella, Nancy Baker, and Terri Amig.  Thank you for reading and please keep clicking, contributing, commenting, and sharing glimpses of the brilliant spark of truth that is YOU. 

Much Love, 

Frau Kolb

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Today’s Menu: May 14, 2014

Frau KOLB!  Frau KOLB!  FRAU KOLB!  

Last night, I hit the town with my camera and tripod in tow.  I love to get outside shots of a location at sunset.  It paid off.  Clips of good material… collected from the delicate surface of this tightly knit grid, loosely termed, “reality.”  

Ha!  Last night was an exercise in socializing.  For the first time in my life I found myself in the company of women as tough as… well anybody.  Ginger Schulick-PorCELLA has balls.

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She was fearless on stage, a fierce visionary, on fire with a sense of urgency.  Schulick-Porcella radiates readiness to create a new mood around San Diego’s diffused art community.  If anyone can do it, I believe this energetic, brisk… no-nonsense woman, with her past experience as an art consultant and curator, with focused assistance, will bring to San Diego a new and improved public image.  With our support, and her focused brain powering it, San Diego Art Institute has a good shot at becoming  something powerfully NEW, “radical,” to do in San Diego.  We can cluster and collude to create as much energy around the hot New York Curator, founder of “Big Deal Arts,” and veteran of the art scenes in Chicago, and Philadelphia; thereby ensuring our own success and brilliant social calendar.

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The night built up in layers of late afternoon on the heals of a long day filled with calls and… an exciting whiff of opportunity…  

Meanwhile… On the Other Side of the Planet!

Artist, husband, and visionary: 

Don Porcella is in Shanghai on An International ART adventure:

Shanghai is where Porcella’s ten year quest for the source of pipe-cleaner machines, and the signing of international pipe line deals by Putin and Chinese Officials, Swatch Watch Collecting, and George Clooney all come together in a twisted knit; so tight and strange, one does not know… what to make out of it.

Over Skpe, a night or two ago, the artist, Porcela, confessed to being homesick, missing his wife, Ginger.   Despite the fact that he is engrossed in his work and arriving at the apex of a ten-year search for the MOTHER, the source of infinite Pipe-Cleaner variety HEAVEN for an artist bent on creating drool-worthy meaning packed sculptures from fuzzy and brightly colored, typically throw-away objects, pipe cleaners,  he deftly weaves into otherworldly representations of world or found or art historically relevant objects, Shanghai with its endless supply of cheap labor is MECCA. He is far away, participating  in the Global Identity Project, an artist’s residency program.  He is not delighted to be so far away from home.  He is feeling lonely yet the opportunity to experience Shanghai and take in this key moment in history; and  to source his chosen material, Porcella is understanding more about the world by spending a month in Shanghai, China.  Producing new art, learning new rules of traffic and commerce, studying the core of human transaction, first hand.  At the nexus of global change is artist Don Porcella.  Here we see Porcella among his peers.  He stands with three artists and a movie star.  Yes, it is true.  You can believe your eyes.  Artist Don in a dinner jacket with universal heartthrob, George Clooney!

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Porcella had nothing but good to say about The Academy Award winning actor, producer, screenwriter.  Of Clooney’s impeccable  conduct, his sincere interest in the artists participating in the Shanghai residency program.  “He took time to connect with each participant individually,” reports Porcella, impressed from the first with the famous actors human charisma and evident, “generosity,” of spirit.

Now, we can ALL at www.talkinggrid.com LOVE  George Clooney with greater ardor! 

(Oh how we love George!  The love of Clooney, was never so moony… well… excuse me… I’ll write an ode to Clooney’s eyes another time.  We must stay focused on the PIPECLEANERS!)

Question:

When is a PIPE-CLEANER not merely a PIPE-CLEANER… when does a PIPE-CLEANER transcend its status as ready-made trash and become an immortal record of our moment?  Well, I can take you to the world expert on these deep philosophical questions, my NEW ART BRO, Don Porcella.

Question:

What do: pipe-cleaners, Putin, and George Clooney have in common?

Ask yourself: if a hat is made by out of pipe cleaners is it still a hat???

For More ON:

Don Porcella 

www.donporcella.com

Follow artist Don Porcella on his Shanghai ART Odyssey… find yourself on the other side of the world and Talkinggrid is now in ASIA; covering Shanghai from the unique perspective of San Diego based artist: 

DON PORCELLA!

SEE: what you are not getting from the mainstream media; believe it or not, the real deal is here, YOU too can be a part of the NOW. LEARN about how to master the SEA of CHANGE!  

**** this website is not intended to cure, treat, or cleanse any disease other than the malaise. 

Don’t be left behind.  Keep up.  Things are moving FAST!  Hold your HAT!  The winds of change are blowing and here we GO!

Do YOU SEE the SEED of CHANGE as ART becomes the new international currency?

Ah!  Very Enlightening… Can you detect; the NEW PATTERN of INTERNATIONAL TREND??? Can you?  Thanks to an intimate midnight art chat with the dashing young artist, California Native, with a New Yorker heart: Porcella ROCKS!

Last night, I had the pleasure of a serious art chat… with artist Don Porcella: not only did I learn a lot about the history of pipe-cleaners, which I will share with you… when you clamor for more information because it dawns on you that this is news of vital importance; you may not understand what is going on but the man in the dinner Jacket is artist Don Porcella, weaver of pipe cleaner hats and perfect sneakers in ideal boxes; all hand made in Porcella’s secret method… I see a trend, blossoming, among artists trying to reinvent art from the scraps of a dying civilization.  Schools in America might start teaching armies to create, the only thing of actual worth: condensed thought, philosophical understanding, and the capacity to invest the creative impulse in objects of singular significance and, therefore, enduring value. 

Casually, California, Porcella introduces us to his art residency fellows: Mauro Andrizzi and Cecilia Jansson two artists in the residency with him in the photo (above). Also, included are a few photos from the Global Identity Project.  Above see images of three talented fellows posing for Porcella,  “The Mao Hat,” he wove in his unique technique which he developed over years of experimentation based on his mother’s interest in the weaving of fabrics… interesting the way that the meaning always loops back to textiles…  to the “woman’s work,” of weaving or growing silkworms for gowns and cloth, which… end-up defining reality and distinguishing one from the other.   Speaking of “distinguished,” did you catch Porcella’s dinner jacket, he matches the movie star, George Clooney, at the center of the image, next to Ms. Jansson, in panache.  

Of the actor, Porcella reports, “He was genuinely interested in communicating with the artists in the program, giving them individual attention and connecting with every artist in the program.”  He says that the actor was, “generous,” with his time and he could see why he was in demand.

Ageless, good looks aside, Clooney, sounds like a lovely human.  I’d love to meet him, too!

“Hey Man!” Clooney is reported to have said to Porcella as the men locked eyes for a first moment of mutual approval.  The expression, a throwback to black American’s men’s struggle to graduate from being “Cow-Boys,” grown men, called “Boys,” by white men to indicate their junior status… was adopted by the hippy movement, out of San Francisco, when our own “cultural revolution,” perhaps began.. or not… the details of history are always murky.. yet, we know, Clooney and Porcella connected in a hallway in Shanghai, last week.  (How is it that genius knows genius when it sees it?).  Well…. Porcella’s art adventure is not only punctuated by glamor and marked by messages ticking, throbbing, pulsating in the public sphere which are every where:  

(All the photos, here published, are done so with permission of the artist, Don Porcella, © 2014)

Speaking last night, early morning in Shanghai in intimate ART CHAT Stealth mode, in his cool California tones, Porcella told of his early love of Swatch Watch collecting… remember when that was the rage… well, time pieces… time is a tool; a construct, much like currencies are indicators of voltage and might; being exchanged for silk and weapons; power and glory.  Porcella is connected to the pulse of the universe.  He is there at the center where the big political drama which will define reality for billions of humans is unfolding right out side the general public’s attention, as usual.

On Putin’s Visit to Shanghai

Porcella thoughtfully, reminds us that the current Russian policy toward homosexuals, and others not conforming to party’s vision is aggressive, condemning  and repressive.  Those holding opposing views or living as homosexuals in Russia are being violently silenced.  One of the artists, participating in the Global Identity Project, is a Bulgarian and he expresses concern, fear… even… over Putin increasing grip over his native Bulgaria and Putin’s anti-gay campaign.  We have witnessed the incarceration of the female punk band, Pussy Riot, over antics that would hardly raise an eye-brow, in Los Angeles, but which are treated as grand offenses to the state by Putin’s Russia.  We must take note.

Putin’s vision for the world is not that which most artists and creatives would crave to regress into the discrimination and state sanction of violence against minorities and other non-conformists.  

Ignore, the implications of this new Chinese and Russian trade agreement at your own risk.  (Meanwhile, I’m learning Mandarin.  So that at least I will know which restroom to use in the future. Thank you)  

Follow Porcella on Instagram to see more pictures!

A place where people are not afraid to buy, to shop is an ambition, an achievement.  Cheap, willing, and grateful labor… Can America compete with this?  

Think about it.  

We will discuss this topic, with Don Porcella, and other intellectuals working in the arts, later. 

Thank you for reading.

Eternally yours,

Frau Kolb

With daily uploads on ART, life, and everything that binds the bits: including the king of Pipe-cleaner ART forever, Don Porcella

***Porcella’s story is a complex and multilayered mystery which may take years to unravel or ravel, depending on your standpoint.

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MS. CRANE SPOTTED IN EUROPE!

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Talkinggrid = ART Chat, Absurdist Humor, Foreign Language Learning, Life Advice, Obtuse Inspiration, Memoirs of a Rambling Nature,  Sexual Innuendo,  Unexpected Art Discovery  &  provocative gorilla reportage from the slums of… Manhattan, maybe…Oh yes…

Fresh Muse NEWS!!!

Hallelujah!  Praise whoever needs it!  YEAH! We have discovered the whereabouts of Ms. Crane!