Archive | Art Matters

The Cat Lady Is Present

beleaguered kittyI’m on Day 3 of Marina Abramović immersion for a piece I’m writing about her new memoir, Walk Through Walls. She is a thorny, intriguing subject, and I feel both stuck and manic as I write and write and delete and delete. To ground out the fever the Artist has conjured in me –the Liser-sized warp in the time-space continuum– I keep scooping up poor Grace, who is cowering in her special rocking chair. While she protests with her newly acquired “Noooooo” meow, I say: “THE PERMAKITTEN IS PRESENT.” There is only one amused member of my household today.

New Moon Justice

Big Moon by Shara HughesIt’s not just because I have moon in Libra that I love moons in Libra, but it doesn’t hurt. The deepest parts of me longs for harmony and justice, and so often these desires live in direct conflict with each other, especially with that orange shadow looming over the American horizon. Today’s new moon in Libra—arriving exactly at 5:11 PM—sits with Jupiter, which manifests on a grand scale the core of everything it touches. Given that Libra is ruled by Venus, we honest to goodness have a terrific chance to manifest peace, love, and understanding during the month to come. So take a few moments at 5 o’clock and meditate on what beautiful change might look like—for you, for the people you love, for the country you inhabit. Venus is the planet of connectivity and beauty; Jupiter is the planet of wise expansion. Let’s be the change we see in the stars. Art credit: Shara Hughes.

The Mystery of Fungi

I fear bodies, I tremble to meet them.

I keep flashing on this quote from Thoreau’s The Maine Woods and then on this painting by Egon Schiele, and marveling over the splendid catastrophe that is human intimacy. I think it is because I bought wild mushrooms today at the greenmarket, and as I sautéed them with sherry and olive oil and shallots and thyme, I was struck by their great mystery. What hyperobjects fungi are, even in containment. And I thought of how everything wonderful and terrible about sex–that loud secret, that subcutaneous clamor–can only be viewed through this lens as well. I considered all this, and I considered the mystery of the bodies that I crave, and then I folded the mushrooms into a pretty risotto and poured myself a glass of wine. Middle age answers few questions but grants us the dignity of detachment. Sometimes.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy