And let the procrastination begin...

There are so many things I should be doing right now, which make it a perfect time for a blog post....

I've been tagged:

I was tagged by: Molly
I am: not looking forward to writing 7 more reports.
I think: I should make the grocery list so we don't starve this week.
I know: that my hubby loves me.
I want: my fish to all be healthy.
I have: not much to complain about.
I dislike: eggnog. I am reminded of this every Christmas season.
I miss: throwing pottery and working with clay.
I fear: calling people on the phone, especially people I don't know very well.
I feel: excited for Christmas!
I hear: Karen Carpenter, and my land lord bumping around upstairs.
I smell: two very ripe bananas.
I crave: pad thai.
I cry: at any sappy movie or t.v. show. It's pretty pathetic.
I search: for good lesson plans! And books that deal with issues of community and power that would be appropriate for 10th graders. Any ideas?
I wonder: when we'll be able to save up enough for a down payment on a house.
I regret: the last five cookies I ate.
I wish: dinner were already made.
I love: listening to NPR on my way to school in the morning.
I care: about doing my job well.
I always: text my husband from work. Or tap my wet toothbrush before I brush my teeth (as he points out).
I worry: about not being good enough at my job or at getting things done around the house.
I am not: tall.
I remember: driving to Utah with my boy and his brother almost two years ago. When they dropped me off at my house, the girls in my family thought he was cute. He is.
I believe: in good people.
I sing: a lot by myself. I used to think I was pretty good, but I've either gotten worse or less delusional.
I don't: have enough time and/or energy to make my own artwork these days.
I argue: on rare occasions, and only when I'm really comfortable.
I write: a lot of comments to my students telling them they need a thesis.
I win: when it's not a competition.
I lose: my keys less often than I used to. Now days it is usually my phone.
I listen: more than I talk in social situations.
I don't understand: how Ben can drink 2%. Ugh!
I can usually be found: no where or only by e-mail. Or so my students think if they haven't made arrangements with me.
I need: to exercise more often.
I forget: things when I get flustered.
I am happy: when I am with my husband.

I'd tag Ben, except his blog is dead. R.I.P.

Home for the Holidays

This morning, while Ben was all snug in the bed, I bundled myself up to head out into the darkness. Coat: check. Gloves: check. Extra long socks: check. I swung open the front door bracing myself for the cold blast of air that accompanies me to work. The snow man on our door clinked lightly on the glass as usual, but the shock did not come. It was 50 degrees when I stepped out the door at 6:30. Crazy. Weather-wise, the Christmas season comes in fits and starts here. Decoration-wise it is here in all its glory.

I'll admit it's glory shines a bit brighter at some houses; a few places on my commute are mighty impressive. I don't mind, however, because our humble abode glows with a comforting homey glow. Some things about growing older aren't so fun (rent and loan payments come to mind), but picking out our Christmas tree definitely compensated for some of the discomfort. We put it up the day after Thanksgiving, and now blue, clear, and frosted lights twinkle in our front room.


Sure, it won't grace the pages of a magazine, but the atmosphere is just right for cuddling up with your honey or chatting with friends. One other thing of note, we got our stockings hung by the chimney with care. My parents-in-law gave those to us last year. Thanks! Our home sweet home is ready for the holidays.

Sunshine, Shark fin, and Submarines

I'm fondly remembering the 70 degree weather in Florida as it was 19 degrees on my way to work; it felt like 11, and I was wearing a skirt. We really need to get some laundry done. Between work and Thanksgiving, the beginning of November seems so long ago. At that time, Ben and I sardined ourselves into airplanes to head down to Mobile, Alabama. From there, we trekked on to Pensacola, Florida, for the wedding of my best friend from high school. We arrived late at night, so it was not until the next day that we were introduced properly to Pensacola. Overall, the trip ended up being filled with good friends, good food, and good fun.

The good friends definitely came as a big surprise. I'm pretty shy, so I had been anticipating an personally awkward wedding where I didn't talk to anyone. I was SO grateful that Ben had come with me; he's my social security blanket. Imagine my astonishment when we roll out of the hotel room, me without my hair or make-up done, and suddenly I see four people in the parking lot turn their attention towards us. My eyesight has gotten a little fuzzy lately, so I did not recognize them immediately. The fuzzy figures quickly focused, and two of my best friends from high school and their wives greeted us enthusiastically. This wedding was definitely going to be even better than I thought!

Either way, though, it really would have been an incredible wedding. It was a lovely combination of Jewish, Chinese, and military traditions that was a heck-of-a-lot more fun and romantic than most weddings I've been to. Annie was a sight in both her white and red gowns; she looked very happy. All in all, it was nothing short of a feast for eyes, hearts, and, of course, stomachs. From the shark fin soup and jellyfish salad to the shrimp and duck, all was thoroughly documented by James and enjoyed by everyone at the Mormon table (it all went nicely with the Martinellis...).

Best of all, I got Ben to dance.

Anyway, the next morning, after we caught a second helping of primary program at a local chapel, Ben and I headed out. Now, what we did highlights what big nerds (and how well-suited) we are. There we were, on a beautiful sunny day, just scant miles from a beach, and what do we want to do? We both wanted to head to a WWII battleship that we had spied lurking in the dark on our way there. The USS Alabama was incredible! We could have stayed for hours longer, but we had to head back to the airport (and to reality). However, to preserve the memory, we did manage to get a disposable camera to document the adventure (as the camerawoman forgot her camera...).
It is amazing how much they fit inside this vessel. It truly was a floating city, with everything from a dentist's, to a cobbler shop, and an ice cream parlor. But they were all very small...A couple of the most interesting were the pharmacy and the photographer's shop. Aren't all these old cameras cool?
They also had the WWII submarine the USS Drum there for people to wander through. We took it at more of a run because of time constraints, but that was all we needed to decide Ben should never have to live on a submarine. He wouldn't fit any of the beds.

The Grateful Dead

The lights buzz overhead, and I hear the sound of Charles vacuuming the room next door. I know there are a kids roaming the halls, but they are mostly at the other end of the school near the gymnasium. Thanksgiving break has begun, and, boy, am I glad. This first semester of teaching has been good, but I definitely feel the need to recharge a little bit before I'll be ready to tackle the second. However, that is not the only thing I am grateful for. As much as vacation delights me, I can look around the classroom and find so many reasons to be grateful to be here. Here are four miscellaneous things about Room 306 that make me happy:

1. The white board at the front of the room started out as the "Grateful" board and ended up as "The Grateful Dead" board. Additionally, the students are grateful for among other things Morgan Freeman, Christmas trees, chocolate chips, cars that don't break down, and "Ms. V's outfit advice" (which mostly consists of taking girls aside and informing them that nylons do not constitute pants....).

2. Ms. V's calendar. I share a room, and I really respect and love my roomy. One thing that she has up by her desk is a calendar that has a whole bunch of nature facts on it. I understand that it is simply trying to tell general time frames, but who can resist laughing when it lists "Woodchucks (groundhogs) are asleep in underground nests" on November 4. They don't sleep any other day? And so you know, the milkweed pods open on the 30th.

3. The sticky note on the closet that says "Narnia." In our classroom, there is a door at the back of the room. "Where does that go?" the students ask at the beginning of the year. Well, technically it simply is a closet with some volleyball equipment, Spanish stuff, and the English multimedia equipment. Apparently someone else decided it was Narnia. I like to think of it as being like Superman's phone booth. Non-descript teachers enter, but athletic super-humans emerge! Alright, I exaggerate, but it frequently does get used as a dressing room.

4. The essential question poster with the misspelling. At the beginning of the year, I quickly made a set of posters for our classroom listing the sophomore history and English "essential questions." They are "How and why do communities form?"; "What is power, and how does it manifest itself in a community?"; and "How is manipulation and persuasion an aspect of power?" Well, that is what they are supposed to say. Just two days ago I noticed that I had misspelled "persuasion." So far, I'm the only one that I know has noticed it, which makes me laugh.

Well, vacation has officially started, and I'm done ruminating. It's time to pack up and head home. I'll be especially grateful if I don't run out of gas...

Things Not to Say to Teenagers, Revisited

Is it ironic that after my gaff with the conch the next unit in English is Freud? Now I've had to explain what a phallic symbol is. The Washington Monument will never be the same to them...

3545

I survived Spirit Week. Barely. Let's just say that during the course of the week, I went to school dressed in a prom dress and tennis shoes, dressed as a dwarf, and with the flags of Germany and Belgium adorning my hair. No, it makes no sense, but that is the insanity of it all. This is homecoming week at a school with no football team. There is no one place to focus the energy, so it just explodes into a chaotic mess of school pride, leaving everyone drained by Friday. I lay in bed this morning wishing, longing to be able to stay there for another hour or two. That, however, was not in the cards. Instead, Ben and I got up early and ventured into the cool October morning to run our very first 5K. While more quality time with my pillow would have been nice, in the end I felt good and very lucky.

Ben and I have not been as diligent lately with getting out of the house and running, so we were a little apprehensive about the run. Or I should say I was a little apprehensive about the run. Ben has this indomitable confidence that he can do things that boggles my mind. I was worried that I was not going to make it. School has been a huge energy drain, and running has taken a back seat. With this in mind, we knew that we were not going to be contenders for first place, so we diligently took our positions with the rank-and-file behind the start line.

Someone yelled, "Start!" Ben and I soon eased into a steady pace, our feet rhythmically pounding the asphalt. Before too long, he surged ahead of me. My short legs just can't keep up with him! His lean figure would pop into view between the trees whenever we rounded a corner. While I could not rival his pace, I managed to hold my own. The sound of footsteps and breathing accompanied me throughout the majority of the race as I stayed just ahead of one lady. A few feet in front of me, another girl held the distance steady until I surged ahead toward the end.

My lungs were threatening revolt as I rounded the last bend to see a family from our ward and Ben cheering me on. We had made it! Ben finished in 26 minutes 25 seconds, while the clock read just over 28 minutes when I crossed the line. It didn't matter that we were no where near the top times (about 17 minutes for the men and 21 for the ladies); our times are great for us! We'll see how much our legs complain tomorrow.

Our legs, however, are the only part of us that has any room for complaint. Both our bib numbers (3544 for Ben and 3545 for me) were pulled during the raffle afterwards. Talk about lucky! In the end, I traded a lazy morning in bed for the experience of running a 5K, bread for a year, and a night's stay at a hotel downtown. Yeah, it was worth it.

Oh, the insanity!

I'm breaking my tradition of posting once per month. You are probably all beside yourselves with joy. What prompted such an occasion can be summed up in two words: school lunch. Ah, the glory days of mystery meat covered in slop that jiggled in a disturbing way! I know all of you wish you could go back to those days.

Well, I have....sort of. I do eat school lunch everyday. Admittedly, I often grab a salad at the salad bar because of a) time and b) my picky eating habits. However, the origin of the pickiness isn't what you think. Here is this week's lunch menu (hopefully you can read it):


This is a typical lunch menu. My school is crazy.

Things Not to Say to Teenagers

There are definite reasons why I am not and never will be a politician. For one, I am an abominable liar. The second reason was driven home to me just a couple of days ago. Sometimes, especially when I'm nervous, I'll say things before I realize the full potential meaning. The words just come out, and the egg begins to bake on my suddenly-red face.

As many of you are aware, I am now about two weeks into my first teaching job. You could call my position a "filler" because I help fill in some of the scheduling gaps. I teach the sixth grade art classes, a ninth grade art class, and two tenth grade English classes. I teach in five different classrooms. So, with my newby status and weird schedule combined with my naturally-nervous temperament, it may be understandable that I have been a little flustered at one point or another.

Here is the set-up: I'm in the middle of one 10th grade English class. The students have been discussing various aspects of the book Lord of the Flies for the last two weeks. During the first part of the class's discussion, I mentioned that I had a conch shell that the other sophomore English teacher gave me. The first question that popped out of the students' mouths was, "Have you tried to blow on it?" After all, at the beginning of LOTF, Ralph blows the conch, calling the boys together and cementing his position as a leader.

Here was my thought process: "She had that conch for a while, and someone even had tried coloring on it with green marker. Ew, gross! I wouldn't put my lips to such a thing. Who knows where it's been?" I'm guessing some of you may get where this is leading.

"I wouldn't blow on anything whose full history I didn't know."

Oh, goodness. I could see the boys starting to sway back and forth in their chairs, overcome with the giggles. My brain started screaming, "Back peddle, back peddle!" There was no going back however, and I knew it would be best to just move on. So I tried.

Tried was the operative word. The classroom was muggy from the rain outside, and bodies had filled the room all day long. I was wearing a cardigan, but my face was turning red and I could feel the perspiration rising.

"Oh, goodness, it's hot." And I take off my sweater.

The laughter redoubles.

I told my teaching roommate my story after school, for which I received a resounding, "That's fantastic!" Yes, yes, but let's just say I didn't repeat the mistake when my other class asked if I had blown on the conch.

5.03

Forgive me my weakness. I usually try to avoid gushing on my blog as much as possible, but I just can't resist. My husband is wonderful. We celebrated our one year anniversary this last week, and I couldn't help but marvel at what a blessing this year of marriage has been. While I am seriously tempted to list out all the things I love about him, I'll just stick to one. He supports me in achieving my personal goals, in this case running.

Inside me there is a kinda pudgy asthmatic which is amazed at the fact that this morning I ran 5.03 miles (as per the calculations of mapmyrun.com). And I felt good at the end. This stands in stark contrast to the junior high "fun runs," which for me were not fun nor involved that much running. I don't remember if I ever made it through the 1.5 miles without stopping to walk, and, despite coming in towards the last, I sometimes had to whip out my inhaler. Yeah, I was cool.

Now things are a lot different, and my dear husband helps keep me motivated. I have a photograph of our running shoes framed in our front room because a good part of our courtship was spent running and walking together. Although in the last few weeks he hasn't been able to go with me, he always shows a genuine interest. He lets me know he is proud of my progress, and I have accomplished something: last month I hit the 300-mile mark on my running shoes. And I know he'll be my cheerleader for the next 300 and beyond. Thanks, sweetie!

I'm all grown up...

It's no secret that I abhor clothes shopping, but, as a young beginning teacher, I would like a little more to distinguish myself from the students other than just a few extra curves. For goodness sake, my 6th grade students will be as tall as I am! So this weekend I sifted through my wardrobe to see what still fit and what I couldn't stand to wear again. All my student teaching clothes got the boot because they were about three sizes too big. Unfortunately, this made shopping a most necessary evil.

After dropping off three swollen garbage bags of clothes to Goodwill, Ben and I set out to take advantage of the holiday weekend sales. The first stop was Kohl's. Ben's parents sent my a gift card for my birthday months ago, and I was determined to use it. Imagine my delight to find that the store actually had a petite's section! The variety of colors and fabrics encouraged me, too. Maybe, just maybe, I could actually find something.

Yes, I did find something: very portable single-person tents. I wouldn't have to run away to the circus, I could just carry it with me! Apparently the definition of petite small at Kohl's is "approximately-three-times-the-fabric-needed-to-make-Elizabeth-a-shirt." After two large armfuls of shirts, all I had thought was "This would be really cute if I were five months pregnant." Not good.

I stood dejected beside the now-brimming reject rack outside the dressing room. The frustration mounted as Ben patiently inquired about what I wanted to do next. Sure, what I did next was a little rash, but it makes a certain amount of sense. If I was too small to fit even the smallest clothes in the small adults section, then I'd just have to try the little girls' section.

It turns out I'm a large or an extra-large. Yes, after striking completely out with the adult clothes, some of the first clothing I bought to begin my professional life was purchased from the kids' section. *sigh*

Home is where your library is....

I'm officially home and back in gear. Or should I say, I'm back in gear as much as I can be given it is summer. Either way, I am home. It's a relatively new experience to say that I'm home considering one practically needs scuba gear to go outside with this humidity. Yup, this definitely is Missouri. I still tell people that we're "going home" to Utah, but it doesn't mean quite the same thing any more.

The quality of this visit to family was different. William was not there for the first few days, and a good number of my friends are across the country and the world. And my room is quickly becoming not my room. When we arrived, paperwork and mail was piled on the night stand and bookcase. Artwork from high school and college was scattered on the floor under an empty bed frame and shoved behind every piece of furniture in the room. The bookshelves were full. Everything (minus the purloined mattress) was as I had left it before Ben and I got married (almost a year ago!).

We decided to organize the chaos since we were packing some of it up to take with us. A lot of stuff was crammed: more love letters than I'd like to admit to, brochures, and notebooks with angsty poetry written late at night. If the laughter was any indication, Ben enjoyed going through some of this more than I did. A lot of incriminating evidence was trashed, although the poetry will provide comic relief for years to come. Now the drawers lie empty, and the artwork sits neatly packed into portfolios in one corner. Three-hundred pounds of books were shipped across the country. The bookshelves there are empty.

As the airplane descended into Saint Louis, the realization hit me. I am no longer a student. No longer am I just going to school here, but I live here. Many people assumed that when I graduated Ben and I would flee as soon as possible back to Utah. One lady in the ward of Ben's family told me that we were "breaking the rules" by staying in Missouri. If so, cheating feels good; we've been very blessed. And our bookshelves here are full.

"Oh, well, in that case it's fabulous!"

I found this clip through the blog of a gallery owner in New York. I thought it made a great follow-up to my last post, where I touched briefly on the question of what makes something art. I'm totally involved in the artworld, and even like many artworks that are made of mundane or ridiculous materials. In fact, the highlight of my trip to L.A. at the end of February was going to Ace Gallery and seeing Lauren Bon's work. The show included pieces with live bees and jars of honey, and even a fountain dripping honey on a preserved lamb carcass. Yes, a lamb carcass. But the show was incredibly powerful. On the other hand, I do believe that there is a lot of nonsense that gets covered by a veil of fancy words so viewers can't see how ridiculous they really are. "This is the materialization of the psychotic's dream deciphered by...." *snicker*

Singing Thaddeus Strode

I'm almost done with my MFA, and what has my almost 20 years of education made me qualified for? Well, other than teaching art, I'm not quite sure. Perhaps not much. While I'm open to other options, I have tried to start preparing for teaching again, so I signed up for an art ed. workshop at the university's museum. Little did I know I'd be singing Thaddeus Strode.

The workshop's central idea (of which they scraped the surface) was how to approach teaching contemporary art. I'll be the first to admit that, compared to the traditional great masters, some of contemporary art is...extreme. Canned human excrement, an entire shark carcass floating in formaldehyde, and gnawing on a 600 lb. cube of lard are all art according to today's art world. All have been displayed in museums. Whether these are "good" is debatable, but they nevertheless are "art." A lot of people understandably have a hard time with contemporary art, and there are many reasons why teaching it can be a challenge.

The workshop didn't answer many questions, but it did give the participants some things to think about. I liked some activities, while others I have had to think about for a while. One of these was the aforementioned singing. A museum educator from the L.A. Museum of Contemporary Art had us in the gallery making up noises to match different lines in the drippy, graffiti-like paintings of L.A.-based artist Thaddeus Strode. We were her bizarre symphony. "WEEEE--woooo--bzzzzzz...."

Now, before I go any farther, I'll state my opinion baldly. I don't like Thaddeus's work. The show, Absolutes and Nothings, does absolutely nothing for me. It didn't the first time I saw it, and it didn't when I saw the work in the artist's studio (although it makes more sense amongst the mess). Singing the work didn't necessarily change my mind.

Before any art ed. buddies get their undies in a knot, I'm not going to say that making up a sound to match the painting enlightened me about the painting. It didn't. I don't think this activity helps you learn anything if you stop there. What it has the potential to do is help you see the parts that make up the whole, and more importantly makes the work more approachable. How can a work be intimidating if you've just proclaimed it makes farting noises?

Anyway, to end this rambling post, I'll give you guys a laugh. Here's a picture of the workshop participants using their bodies to make a shape from a painting. I'm smack in the middle, looking like I need to use the bathroom, dancing Thaddeus Strode.

Bag Tag

Molly tagged me, so I'll use it as an excuse to post something. The most exciting thing is the last paragraph. :D

THE RULES:
1. You have to show your bag
2. Show all the contents in the bag--no cleaning out first!
3. Bag Tag five more people


Unfortunately for all y'all, my purse is pretty small, so it's pretty boring on that front. However, I think this one is great! My sweet husband bought it for me right before Christmas because I was so frustrated with my old bag. It wasn't very big, but its one pocket was a bottomless pit. This one has three.
(I'm being lazy and leaving the dang photo rotated. Sorry.)

Outside Pocket #1:

1. Curel Ultra Healing lotion--a necessity for all your favorite dry-skinned ceramists.





2. Sunglasses--cheap, but they do the trick!
3. Receipt for Burger King at LAX--Chicken nuggets and a side salad.
4. Gum
5. An unused Blockbuster gift card and strategically covered student ID card.

Middle Pocket:

Wallet (now if you only had a look in there.....)











Outside Pocket #2:

1. Four bobby pins
2. Orange Staedler pen--Gosh, I love these pens, but my black one will be out soon. *sniff*
3. A pencil with a broken point.
4. Cheap black pen.
5. Four unsent postcards advertising a show I was in back in January. The piece is sitting on the backseat of my car.
6. Comb
7. Lip-gloss that I thought was lost, but had only been swallowed by my scripture case.
8. A check card register--Empty except for one entry: "Brien's B-Day" (which was months ago)

I will admit that I didn't follow the rules exactly....I left out the, um, female stuff. ;) Also, I don't know five other girls with blogs. I suppose the guys could participate, but I kind of hope they don't have purses....


Anyway, I turned in the first rough draft of my thesis this morning, which means that I'm ready to go full tilt in the studio. Hip, hip, hurray!

Nesting Instincts

Ben and I finally took the plunge! It may not seem monumental for everyone else, but for us, it may have been more difficult than deciding to get married. I'm talking about buying a new couch and a couple of chairs to match. As I said, not exactly huge in the scheme of things, but it means a lot to us. Our little place no longer feels like a student apartment, but more like a real, established home. That, and we will not have to a.) snuggle up with visitors on the old blue and gray beast, b.) drag a mattress into the front room when we have guests, or c.) avoid asking anyone to come to our house. For the benefit of our family who is far away, and as a sneak preview for friends in the area, here is a picture, along with a few of the rest of our place. Please keep your arms and legs in the car at all times, and do not stand up until the ride comes to a complete stop:

When we first saw this couch at the store, we wouldn't even consider it. The fabric it came in made it look like it had been made from the hide of some ill-fated muppet. The color was between turquoise and moss green with the texture being the unfortunate hybrid of carpet and fleece. Luckily, there was a sectional in this upholstery, which helped change our attitudes. Also, it was the most comfortable couch of all on which we had sat.

This is our dining room, with Ben's computer in its usual location. I cleared my computer off so that you would all think our house is usually cleaner than in reality. Is it working? Recognize the clock, Molly?












I'd ask you into the kitchen and bathroom, but the kitchen sink has dishes in it and the bathroom is nothing special. (Unless mother nature calls, then it's really special...;) )

This is the master suite... Okay, so it really isn't a suite, and you really can fit a bed in and that's just about it. But it sure feels good after a long day at work and the studio! (And shipping the comforter set from Utah was definitely worth it!)

And lastly, a comparison:

The "office" when we first moved in:












And the office now:


I think the amount of visible floor space is just about the same, although it is a lot better than it was before. Imagine the way the room currently is only with a full-sized mattress in there, too. Now think of puppies and rainbows so that you can sleep tonight. We were able to make enough room for the mattress in the basement as it is turning out to be more difficult to sell than we thought. If y'all know anyone in the St. Louis area that would like to buy the mattress (cheap!) and could come pick it up, we'd really, really appreciate it.

Well, that concludes our virtual tour. Please come and visit us in person soon!

Creation and Destruction

“All things change. Nothing is permanent.” --Buddha

My husband and I were definitely the outliers in the room. The vast majority of our company was old enough to be our parents if not our grandparents. It was a sea of gray hair. We probably should have expected it, considering we were a.) at the viewing of a documentary b.) at the art museum c.) there on a Friday night. Although we already admitted that we are nerds, this definitely cemented it. Every day just confirms how well suited the hubby and I are. Not only did he willingly go to an art documentary on a Friday night, he wanted to go when I mentioned it. And then we both LOVED it.

Of course, this particular documentary would probably be fascinating to anyone who is interested in culture and current events. If you can, find a copy of “The Giant Buddhas” (2005) directed by Christian Frei. You can also find out more about the movie at www.giant-buddhas.com. It basically tells the story of the destruction of two 1,500-year-old Buddhist statues carved into the cliffs of the Bamiyan Valley in Afghanistan. In March 2001, the Taliban blew them up essentially in retaliation for the sanctions the world established against them (from what I understand).

The film was quiet with haunting melodies floating over the images of the Afghani desert or following the footsteps of a seventh-century Chinese monk. A melancholy tone permeated every shot. While it focuses one specific event, that event cannot be isolated from the context of war and poverty. I mention this to emphasize that the loss of human life is the greater tragedy, not the loss of physical things. However, we are very closely tied to the physical world through our bodies, minds, and spirits. People live in space and time where everything shifts, moves, grows, decays, alters. Our bodies become one with the landscape as we take in food and air, incorporating it into our cells, and then returning it all when we die. Natural change, decay, disintegration is not destruction, however. In fact, this is my current artistic subject. What can seem like demolition or ruin can in fact be beautiful, and often is involved in a process of revelation or even a new, different creation.

The now-destroyed Buddhas were incredible. They produced a sublime awe even without the mask and gemstone eyes that shone over the valley many centuries past. The statues were not pristine, but rather told the story of the years that had come and gone. Erosion worked slowly but unceasingly on the rock. Eventually, they would have gone the way of everything else. The Taliban changed this. Watching the video of their (inept) explosions made me nauseous. Stupid, wanton, selfish destruction.

As an artist, I find a certain amount of joy and pleasure in pure creation. I truly think that creation is one of the ultimate goals of life. Physical production is not the only meaning of ‘creation,’ although one of the more obvious ones. As the Taliban took dynamite to the Buddhas, they destroyed not only tangible objects but also relationships, identities. I’m sure these demolishers did not gain any true joy or happiness out of their act.

I’m not sure exactly what is happening now with regards to the site. Some wanted to rebuild the Buddhas, while others have suggested laser projections in the now-empty niches. I think I prefer the later option. Whatever happens, I hope that the people are able to rebuild their lives and their country.

And with that, I should get back to my own creative endeavors.