Take Care of Yourself

I received an email telling me it was over.

I didn't know how to respond.

It was almost as if it hadn't been meant for me.

It ended with the words, "Take care of yourself."

And so I did.

I asked 107 women (including two made from wood and one with feathers),

chosen for their profession or skills, to interpret this letter.

To analyze it, comment on it, dance it, sing it.

Dissect it. Exhaust it. Understand it for me.

Answer for me.

It was a way of taking the time to break up.

A way of taking care of myself.

In 2007, Sophie Calle did what all of us have always wanted to do but didn't have the talent or social clout to pull-off. She asked all the women she knew--or at least 107 of them--to interpret why he was just not that into her. Sure we run over the details of break-ups with our close friends, but we quickly become conscious of the fact that even our best friends grow sick of hearing about it. But when Sophie Calle was broken-up with, she wanted answers. And not from him, but from them: other women. She displayed the replies--a mixture including installations, poems, an operetta, and a copy-edited version of the email--on the French Pavilion of the 2007 Venice Biennale. We missed her show in NYC this past summer, but maybe if we're really lucky we can catch it in Brazil.

See more information on her show at the Paula Cooper Gallery in NYC here.

Kind of in Love

With Laura Gibson.

Who is with me?

yes, yes please

For one human being to love another: that is the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the work for which all other work is but preparation.

-Rainer Maria Rilke

It's About the Leaf

This morning my parents and I drove out to Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania, enjoyed a late brunch at Hank's Place, and then headed across the street to the Brandywine River Museum, one of my favorite places to go as a kid right up there with nearby Longwood Gardens. The museum is built right on Brandywine River not far from the battlefields of the same name and I swear each time I have gone--including today--the weather has been chilly and drizzly. Perfect museum weather, if you ask me.

We lucked out on the temporary exhibits because they happened to be showing off some beautiful original illustrations from Caldecott Medal winners, including Maurice Sendak illustrations from Where the Wild Things Are, Barbara Cooney illustrations from The Ox-Cart Man (and I have to add that my favorite of hers is Miss Rumphius), and John Schoenherr illustrations from Owl Moon. The main attraction at this gallery, though, is the collection of N.C. Wyeth & Andrew Wyeth artwork. N.C. is probably best known for his illustrations of classics like Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island,

which I think are gorgeous, and I'm pretty sure Andrew's most recognizable piece is "Christina's World."

I'm especially impressed by Andrew Wyeth's tempera paintings, which each took four to six months of layering and layering and layering paint to create incredibly precise, realistic landscapes and still lifes, which I know because we also lucked out on the 2pm tour of the Andrew Wyeth gallery guided by his granddaughter, Victoria Wyeth. Let me tell you, Victoria is intense. She's a bit of a firecracker and full of great stories about her family and Andrew Wyeth's work. For example, she told us that Andrew's wife titled and framed all of his paintings throughout his career, which I thought was really interesting. Also, when Andrew went to Victoria's college graduation, he showed up in black lycra spandex shorts, a black turtleneck sweater, and a light blue, puffy L.L. Bean lady's winter coat. Also, Andrew insisted on painting simple stuff, taking as his subjects his friends and neighbors and his neighborhood's rolling hills and dilapidated barns and expansive fields--he wanted to paint only what he knew and loved most. Another thing I love that Victoria told us: Andrew never used black paint. He always used colors, layers and layers of colors to create the black on his canvases. And another: He loved fall and winter, finding inspiration and fullness in what other people found barren and lifeless: overcast skies, muddy roads, fields of snow.

I think one of my favorites was this piece from the Helga series:

Andrew spent many years studying Helga and produced some really wonderful images of her. Andrew once told Victoria who told us today that this painting isn't so much about Helga as it is about the leaf floating in through the window, which may or may not be true but it's a lovely idea, I think.

I wish I could bring all of you here and show you around places like this museum and Longwood Gardens and Valley Forge. I'm reminded each time I come home of how much history and beauty there is in this area. I just love it.

I Am Not a Robot

Courtesy of a new acquaintance of mine, who shared this song with my friend Adam and I along our eight-hour drive from Athens to Philly this morning. Thanks, Louise!