ARMENIAN REPORTER
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October 6, 2007 — From the Arts & Culture section
To see the printed version of the newspaper, complete with photographs
and additional content, visit and download the pdf
files. It’s free.
1. Opera: The strength, spirit, and voice of soprano Isabel
Bayrakdarian (by Sarah Dzida)
2. The Chookasians: Celebrating traditional Armenian music together
(by Lory Tatoulian)
3. Hip hop: The unlikely apothecary (by Adrineh Gregorian)
* R-Mean means hip-hop and hard work
4. Stories of Armenian cinema unveiled: Lyrical March: A Caucasian
Landscape (by Betty Panossian-Ter Sargssian)
5. Visuality: Oceanic sensations (by Raphy Sarkissian)
* Rachel Hovnanian and Robert Ohnigian among exhibitors
6. The Armenian collection of the world’s largest library (by Emil Sanamyan)
* A conversation with Levon Avdoyan of the Library of Congress
7. Theater: A Weekly Check-In (reviewed by Aram Kouyoumdjian)
8. Essay: Extreme makeover (by Armen D. Bacon)
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1. Opera: The strength, spirit, and voice of soprano Isabel Bayrakdarian
by Sarah Dzida
LOS ANGELES – "I listen to my instincts and I am always on the lookout
for opportunities," says Isabel Bayrakdarian, a soprano singer and
four-time Juno award winner. Known for her roles in Mozart operas and
for her singing part in the Grammy Award-winning soundtrack of The
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Bayrakdarian says that she is
guided by her gut, an instinctive feeling that has led to her
participation in, as she says, "almost everything": opera
performances, chamber music, singing with ensembles, recordings, and
special events.
"I have very strong instincts, spiritual faith, and a supportive
family," Bayrakdarian says, "However, I do whatever I can that’s
possible and that leaves a lot of room for spontaneity and interesting
projects."
* Stepping stones
Today, the serene Bayrakdarian makes her home in Toronto with her
husband and oftentimes accompanist Serouj Kradjian. It made a huge
difference to her success that when she was a young girl, her parents
and siblings were supportive of her musical ambitions. As the only
aspiring musician of her Armenian parents, the third-generation
Lebanese and first-generation Canadian singer says, "It’s different
when I say it in words, but when [I attended] a competition and I knew
there was one friendly person in the audience, it gave me a huge boost
of confidence."
Crediting her earliest singing experiences at church along with her
family, Bayrakdarian achieved notable public success in 1997 when she
won the Metropolitan Opera’s annual competition. The win became a huge
milestone in her career because, as she says, she finally was offered
main stage rather than understudy roles; her first role was the
goddess Diana in Gluck’s opera Iphigenie en Tauride. Three years later
brought international acclaim when Bayrakdarian won first prize at the
2000 Operalia competition, founded by the famous tenor Placido
Domingo.
With the many facets that dictate the abilities and voice of a
soprano, Bayrakdarian believes she is fortunate to have a voice that
suits her temperament and allows her to play with a huge palette of
colors whether portraying Susanna in Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro or
Blanche in Poulenc’s Dialogues of the Carmelites. However,
Bayrakdarian’s assessment and passion for the versatility of opera is
deep. "Opera is the most third-dimensional of all arts because it
includes singing, staging, sets, dance, orchestra and lighting," she
says, "Yet there is a ‘survival of the fittest’ attitude because
[opera] is not as widespread as other arts." Bayrakdarian also says
that opera gives its performers an advantage as they are able to
easily learn and speak other languages. By needing to learn songs in
diverse languages like German or Italian, Bayrakdarian believes that
she has gained a better understanding of those tongues.
As to the opinions of critics such as at The New York Times or
Chicago Sun, they have hailed Bayrakdarian for her captivating vocals
and performances not only as a singer but as an actress on the opera
stage. For a singer like Bayrakdarian, this criticism may mirror the
evolution opera audiences have undergone due to the fact that they are
now more accustomed to a certain advanced standard of entertainment.
"It’s very difficult now [to be an opera singer]," Bayrakdarian says,
"because you not only have to sound good, but you need to look the
part. [It is necessary] to be a good actor or actress to be credible
on the stage today."
* Culture and identity
At this point in her schedule, Bayrakdarian says that she prefers
variety. In the earlier stages of her 10-year singing career, she
believes that she was more ambitious because she was trying to make
her mark on the world. "The evolution of me depends on the different
priorities I had at the different stages of my life. The fire is still
there, but it doesn’t have the same restless ambition as in my
twenties," she says. Bayrakdarian works to balance her personal life
with her artistic passion, which means, in the case of the latter,
working on her techniques and making them even better. But that
doesn’t mean that she is only focused on one goal or object. As she
said before, "I try not to personally orchestrate or plan a specific
change; instead, I just go along wherever the curve of my life takes
me." This belief can be applied to her schedule, which she says can
and has taken her anywhere and everywhere from concerts at the
Hollywood Bowl that can seat 15,000 people in the open-air to an
intimate church concert of 200 people.
This openness to change and pace also may explain why Bayrakdarian
was glad to take part in and be the subject of the CBC-TV film
entitled A Long Journey Home that documents her first trip to Armenia
in 2004. After hearing her voice in Joyous Light, a CD of Armenian
sacred music and Bayrakdarian’s first solo recording, the
documentary’s producers approached her with the idea of returning to
her ancestral land. For the producers, who are not Armenian, the
project came about due to intriguing pictures they had seen of
Armenia’s landscape and architecture. For Bayrakdarian, she says it
was a pleasure to be part of a project that focused on her cultural
roots because, her Armenian heritage "is always going to be a part of
my identity and I’m fortunate to have a distinct cultural background
that allows me to explore other dimensions."
Interestingly enough, Bayrakdarian’s recording of Joyous Light also
caught the attention of Howard Shore, the composer for The Lord of the
Rings: the Two Towers, and the rest, as Bayrakdarian says, is history.
* What is to come will come
While she does take life as it comes, Bayrakdarian’s schedule remains
busy with concerts, performances, and new projects on the horizon in
locations as diverse as New York, Italy, and Japan. Of special note,
Bayrakdarian is pleased to sing her first Melisande in Debussy’s opera
Pelleas et Melisande at the Canadian Opera Company and to sing the
title role of Cunning Little Vixen in the Czech language under the
famous conductor Seiji Ozawa. Bayrakdarian also is anticipating the
release of a new CD at the end of 2007 called Tango Notturno wherein
she records a collection of tango songs from a spectrum of cultures
that include France, Armenia, Italy, Germany, and even Egypt.
Bayrakdarian also recently completed a recorded disc of songs by the
Armenian national composer Gomidas Vartabed, in conjunction with her
husband, pianist Serouj Kradjian, and the Armenian Philharmonic
Orchestra. It is their hope that the CD may bring Armenian music to a
wider audience.
v
And yet, Bayrakdarian believes that all the opportunities that have
come and will come are due to the mentality that she has always had,
which includes not only family but faith. "Whatever I can do myself, I
do," she says, "but God is almighty; He has brought me here [to my
current success] and He will continue to cradle me for the rest of my
life."
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2. The Chookasians: Celebrating traditional Armenian music together
by Lory Tatoulian
LOS ANGELES – John Chookasian has been playing traditional Armenian
music for the past 35 years, conjuring up the lore and beauty of
Armenia and the Middle East with instruments such as the kanon, zurna,
kamancha, and clarinet.
Chookasian’s music not only preserves the melodious remains of the
past, but he also brings to life the folk ballads that have been the
cornerstone of Armenian culture.
His music has the ability to transport one to the provincial
villages of Cilicia; it is the familiar score that underlines Armenian
rituals; it is the ancient echoing cry and laughter of the Armenian
people.
John’s affinity for Armenian music began at a very early age, while
he was growing up in New York City. He remembers that when he was a
child, his home serving as an Armenian social "Central Station," where
family and friends would gather to share stories and music.
"Sundays after church, we would all get together at our house. Many
of the people who would come to our house had been survivors of the
Genocide. But when we would come together, we would have such a good
time, telling jokes and playing music for hours. We also had
professional musicians in the mix. This really influenced my love for
music," John says
As John got older he began to take music seriously and approached
his craft with reverence. In his teens he formed two bands.One was
called the Hyelights of New York and the other was dubbed the
Havlajees. His bands made their rounds playing at Armenian weddings
and picnics.
During that time, John felt that he not only wanted to play music
professionally, but he wanted to study the complexities of Armenian
music to thoroughly understand the notes and measures that created
this ethereal music.
While he was still gracing the New York music scene with his bands,
he received a graduate degree from New York University. He was then
discovered by a music producer who invited him to go to Las Vegas and
play music at the Tropicana Hotel. John seized the opportunity and
started another group in Las Vegas called The King Tut Review, where
he serenaded audiences with Armenian and Middle Eastern music at the
famed hotel on the strip.
While in Las Vegas, he pursued another graduate degree at the
University of Las Vegas and eventually taught music and ethnic studies
at the very same university.
During the Vegas rebirth of the 70s, John rode the wave of industry
success and appeared in over 42 film productions that featured
well-known actors and entertainers such Frank Sinatra, Tony Curtis,
George Burns, among numerous other artists.
John then moved to Fresno where he established himself in a
community whose musical roots emanated from the lost homeland of
Chookasian’s own family: Sepastia.
Fresno was among the first places refugees from the 1895 massacres
and 1915 Genocide settled in the United States. Most refugees came to
Fresno from Western Armenia to rebuild their lost paradise in the
belly of California. With them they brought their music, a conduit to
an increasingly distant cultural reality.
In Fresno, not only did John find musical success, but also the
woman who would become his wife and musical partner. On a Valentine’s
Day, John spotted Barbara at a wedding while she was dancing and
singing with an elderly man named Mr. Mushegian, who was famous in the
tri-county area for his mesmerizing "Lepleboo Dance."
When John and Barbara exchanged glances, they both gravitated toward
each other and John immediately asked Barbara to dance the "Haleh."
Barbara said, "We fell in love dancing the Haleh. It was like the
dance brought us together. It was our first dance, but it was like we
had been dancing for 20 years."
This initial interaction of song and dance was the impetus that
launched both of them into a 35-year career of professionally playing
Western and Eastern Armenian music across the world.
John and Barbara formed the Chookasian Ensemble, a 10-piece
orchestra made up of musicians who are all conservatory graduates from
Armenia and the United States. John is the director and premier
clarinet player in the ensemble and Barbara is the principal singer of
the group.
The Chookasian Ensemble has performed in many venerated music halls
such as the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and the J.
Paul Getty Museum, and in various venues in Armenia and Karabakh.
At his last, standing-room-only, concert at the Grand Philharmonic
Hall in Yerevan, John was presented with Armenia’s National Gold Medal
Award by Armenia’s Minister of Culture.
Their concert at Armenia’s Philharmonic left deep impressions on the
orchestra, Barbara says, "There was this amazing connection between
audience and performer, when we were in Yerevan, I felt the energy
coming all the way from the fourth balcony. It was as though those
people were right up on stage with us."
The Chookasian Ensemble were also the first-place winners for "Best
Traditional World Music" at the Independent Music Award Festival in
San Francisco. John feels that this was a landmark achievement to be
internationally recognized by non-Armenian panelists such as the
editor for Billboard magazine and the president of Putamayo Records.
The international music festival has thousands of submissions from
around the world each year, and the Chookasian Ensemble brought
Armenian music onto the forefront of world music.
"Odars are so fascinated by our music. Every time we play they want
to hear more. They are amazed that we are using the same type of
instruments that go back thousands of years."
John likes to record all of his CDs at his live concerts. He feels
that live audience recordings are "more organic and not sterile like
most over-produced music these days." He likes how the raw energy of
the audience and the spontaneity of the music captures a kinetic sound
that is often absent from CD’s that are recorded in studios, "When
you’re put in a cubicle, separated for the other musicians, it sends a
whole different energy level which does not lend to much creativity,"
John says.
He uses his CDs as yet another tool to educate people about Armenian
culture and makes it a point to craft his CD covers with attention to
detail. "We want our CDs to be like history books, where you open it
up and you can learn a fascinating or unknown fact about our people."
John goes on to explain that he transposed the filigree artwork of
Toros Roslin’s manuscripts on his CD. He has also included pictures
of Armenian rugs in his CD that have a little synopsis at the bottom
of the image, explaining the history of the rug and its symbols.
Both John and Barbara are passionate about Armenian music and are
enthusiastic when explaining the source and history of Armenia’s
popular folk songs and dances.
John and Barbara illustrate the movements and origins of the
Haleh/Kochari dance, "Before Christianity, when the Armenians would go
into battle, the men would make a huge fence or circle and join hands
tightly. Their formation was like a human fortress. The holding of
the hands and their dance was intended to build up their collective
courage and spirits. They would dance for hours without stopping and
enter a trance-like state."
Barabra continued to say that "with its rigid dancing and its
graceful and impetuous foot movement, this prewar ritual spawned the
Haleh."
The Chookasians also explained the candle dance that is performed at
weddings.
"Everyone at the wedding party holds a candle and forms a large
human circle. This is a dance that is centuries old. It shows the
bride’s rite of passage from being a girl to a woman. The slow, almost
haunting music is like a sad farewell to her maidenhood," Barbara
said.
John not only educates his audiences by telling stories and having
concerts, he also teaches young students the ancient art form of the
playing the oud.
"I want young people to be reacquainted with their cultural roots.
Our intention is to give back to the Armenians what they have given
us," John says.
The Chookasian Ensemble is doing an East Coast tour starting from
late September to early October. In February they will have a concert
at Cal State Fullerton in Orange County.
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3. Hip hop: The unlikely apothecary
* R-Mean means hip-hop and hard work
by Adrineh Gregorian
Hip-hop and Armenian are two things you normally wouldn’t pair
together, but in recent years a group of Armenian artists is paving
its way onto this musical terrain. One of these trailblazers is
R-Mean, whose current ventures are as diverse as his upbringing.
R-Mean was born Armin Hariri in Los Angeles, and raised in the
Netherlands until the age of 18. During his preteen years, he was an
aspiring athlete, out-competing his peers in basketball. His
competitive spirit almost led him to participate in the
Pre-Professional Dutch National Team at the age of 15. However, for
medical reasons, his hoop dreams were put to rest and his musical
passion was born.
R-Mean’s spirit found a new direction of growth. This highly
motivated young man couldn’t just settle with being a good student. As
a fan of hip-hop, he began writing rhymes as a vehicle to express his
inner frustrations. Like most unforeseen things in life, music quickly
became his passion. He never intended to pursue music, but grew to
excel at it. "It just happened," says R-Mean. "And I loved it so much
I couldn’t picture myself doing anything else."
R-Mean began freestyling using famous instrumentals as a hobby. When
people heard him, they were left amazed. He realized that this hobby
was something that people were taking seriously. After auditioning for
one of Holland’s top producer’s at the age of 17, shows were lined up
for him and his future in music took flight. However, he was forced to
leave his second unrealized dream in Holland, when after he graduated
from high school, his family moved back to the United States.
Being in Los Angeles was a change of pace for R-Mean. Growing up in
Holland, the Armenian community was sparse, but very united. "Being
Armenian was very special to us; we held on to it," says R-Mean. "In
L.A., the Armenian community is so big and it has been a great
support."
R-Mean’s musical dreams did not halt in the U.S. He soon got a
stereo with a microphone and started recording his own tapes. "I
remember one day I told myself that I’m going to stop rapping because
I really didn’t know anyone to even share it with," said R-Mean. "I
felt hopeless. That’s until out of nowhere Blind called me one day."
Blind was a struggling producer who had gotten ahold of one of
R-Mean’s tapes and knew there was an opportunity for collaboration.
Together they started the crew Pentagon, which symbolizes the four
corners of the world: east, west, north, south, and the 5th angle, the
Lord. Later artist Ras Teo joined the crew and helped push R-Mean and
Pentagon to the next level. Though Pentagon is a family, R-Mean’s
independence allowed him to remain at heart a solo artist.
As a talented songwriter, he manages to put all his life experiences
in his music, as he speaks from the bottom of his heart at the top of
his lungs. "I was always into music," said R-Mean, "but hip-hop got to
me because it is straight from the heart."
Struggle and real-life situations are constant motivations and
themes in his songs. "Everything around me and my friends inspire to
write," says R-Mean. "Rap isn’t just about cars and jewelry; that’s
not really me. There is a lot of good in my music."
R-Mean’s favorite songs exhibit his soulful nature and positive
spirit brought on by things that have happened to him. Take, for
example, "Exit" off his first album. "Everyone is looking for an exit,
a way out," he said. "Through rap, I express myself, I put myself out
there, it’s my way out." "Open wounds," is his song about the
Genocide. And "Rain" is about losing close ones to death.
Myspace.com has been a useful tool to expose his music to an
international audience. R-Mean’s myspace page is his main marketing
tool and acts as an electronic demo reel for record labels, fellow
artists, and fans from all over the world to access.
Proof of his success is in the albums he’s sold – a staggering
10,000-plus units of his debut album Broken Water since April 2005 –
without the help of any labels, investors, or distributors. R-Mean
also contributed to the recently released mixtape called Jackin’ for
Beats ’07, which was hosted by Tha Goodfellas from 93.5 KDAY in March
2007 and sold over 1,000 copies in its first week.
Working with established artists has opened doors for R-Mean. Since
2005, R-Mean has gotten airplay on Los Angeles-based hip-hop stations
93.5 KDAY FM and POWER 106 FM.
He has collaborated with multi-platinum recording artist The Game on
the upcoming The Game mixtape by DJ Skee. R-Mean was the only hip-hop
artist to make the top three from 40,000 entries in Interscope
Records’ Scarface Video Game Talent Search on myspace.com.
R-Mean has also been an opening act for multi-platinum hip-hop
legend NAS, the multi-platinum, Grammy Award-winning group Bone Thugs
N Harmony, Tyrese, and Bow Wow to name a few. This includes completely
sold out performances at world-famous venues like House of Blues and
Vault 350.
If this much accomplishment isn’t enough, this UCLA grad is also in
his third year in pharmacy school. "That’s my plan B and I’m cool with
school," R-Mean modestly said. "I’m always busy."
Managing one of these careers would be enough on a person’s plate.
Managing two loads is a sign of R-Mean’s unstoppable ambition and
dedication to his pursuits. It’s clear that he does not take one
moment for granted.
"Performing is the greatest thing. It’s a crazy rush," says R-Mean.
"It’s a great feeling knowing that all the work was not for nothing
when you see the love and it’s much different than putting out a CD;
it allows me to have direct contact with the fans."
On October 6, R-Mean will perform solo in his first big concert, at
Beyond the Stars Palace in Glendale, complete with break dancers and
videos. The performance will be hosted by Tha Goodfellas. Also, there
will be guest appearances by Ras Teo, Capital Z, and Soseh. Opening
acts are Profit, Josephina, and Duce One.
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4. Stories of Armenian cinema unveiled: Lyrical March: A Caucasian Landscape
by Betty Panossian-Ter Sargssian
Armenia TV is airing another restored treasure of Armenian cinema,
Lirikakan Yert: Kovkasyan Bnapatker (Lyrical march: a Caucasian
landscape), which was made in 1981 and runs 90 minutes. As usual, an
episode of "The Making of a Film" tells the story behind the film.
The filmmaker is Aghasi Ayvazyan, who was an acclaimed playwright
and screenwriter, but was not known as a film director. His scripts
had been made into the most celebrated films of Armenian film history.
Lirikakan Yert is unlike any other Armenian film. As Anna Terjanian,
host of "The Making of a Film," tells it, the film contains special
ingredients that make it look more like an American road movie. "It
lacks the long scenes in studios typical of Armenian movies," she said
during the program.
The script was shocking, and a commotion was expected in response.
It wasn’t often that the visions of Armenian filmmakers came to be in
the Soviet system.
Set in 1917, when the Caucasus was in chaos, Lirikakan Yert is based
upon actual events. Two sisters are the central characters of the
film. Aghasi Ayvazyan actually knew them. The sisters lived on
Abovian Street in central Yerevan. According to Terjanian, one of the
sisters had an affair with the notorious chief of the Soviet secret
police, Lavrenty Beria, and had thus gained the freedom of the man she
loved.
Ayvazyan and co-director L. Isahakyan did the casting, but they had
to make compromises. Ayvazyan had proposed the roles of the two
leading characters, Anahit and Mariamik, to Violetta Gevorkyan and
Tatevik Hovhannisyan. The former was an experienced theater actress,
and the latter a world-famous jazz vocalist. But both declined the
leading roles.
Only then did Ayvazyan give the role of Anahit to the Georgian
actress Lia Eliava, who already was a familiar name in Armenian cinema
after her role in the film Brothers Saroyan. The second leading role,
that of Mariamik, was given to a young aspiring actress, Satenik
Sahakiants, a first-year student at the Theater Institute in Moscow.
Sahakiants was a beautiful young woman, whereas her character was
supposed to be plain and unattractive.
Throughout the film, heavy make-up concealed Sahakiants’ otherwise
charming features. While the leading roles were given to a
non-Armenian and an unknown actress, the queen of the Armenian stage
at the time, actress Anahit Topchyan, had to be satisfied with a
walk-on role. This was a serious compromise in her not-so-striking
cinema career. "The Making of a Film" speaks about the bitterness
still felt by the actress. With her strikingly beautiful features
still preserved, Topchyan still wonders about the "real reasons" she
was deprived of a role that she believed she deserved.
In Lirikakan Yert, Topchyan performs the role of a mysterious
Armenian aristocratic woman. During the program, Ayvazyan comments
that Topchyan’s role in the film is one of the most successful roles
she ever performed, because it totally matched her real-life
character.
Set against a dark, earth-colored background of the late fall in the
Caucasus, the film has the two heroines setting out on a dangerous
journey amidst gunfire, burning trains, smoking villages, and decayed
corpses of soldiers and their horses. Anahit and Mariamik are
following the tracks of Arsen, Mariamik’s husband, who, she believes,
has been arrested together with the Bolsheviks. They cross vast areas,
where the land burns with tragedy, and where bandits are the rulers.
Their small caravan is soon completed by an Armenian villager, a
revolutionary, who tries to save his wounded Russian Bolshevik friend,
and a weird and wealthy couple, with a large black leather handbag
containing the remainder of their wealth.
In "The Making of a Film," Satenik Sahakiants spoke at length about
many interesting things that happened on the set and also off the set
during the filming of this movie. Unfortunately, Ms. Sahakiants spoke
in Russian, and for those of us who don’t speak Russian, the program
offered no interpretation. This is one of the weak points of the
program.
Much of Ayvazyan’s vision for the film was thrown to the wind. For
example, for the final scene he had envisioned two prison ships in the
Caspian Sea, two machine-guns, and forty camels.
"We have seen a lot of camels, ships, and machine-guns in Russian
movies, and although in principle all the film studios of the Soviet
Union should have had the same budget, Armenian films had always been
deprived and poor. At the end, Ayvazyan had to be satisfied with an
empty sea, a few Turks, who didn’t know why they were there, a couple
of guns, and an aged camel," said Terjanyan.
The soundtrack of the movie was by acclaimed Armenian composer
Tigran Mansurian, a well-known name in Armenian cinema. Listening to
his music throughout the film helps accentuate the contrast between
the romantic heroines and the harsh reality. One of the most
noteworthy scores is that of the closing scene. The melody,
interspersed with a metrical rhythm, embodies a truly acoustic lyrical
march, where Mariamik, together with Anahit, carries into the vastness
of freedom the Bolshevik soldier saved from the prison, instead of her
unworthy husband.
The white raven of the Armenian cinema, which characterizes
Lirikakan Yert is its boldness, and the ease with which it is
portrayed.
The restored film is shown in bright colors and clear sounds and
images. Every single murmur, every single echo is comprehensible to
the viewer even unfamiliar with the Eastern dialect of Armenian. And
the harshness and the true nature of the adventurous trip this film
portrays is not only cleaned but rescued from obscurity.
"The Making of a Film" is aired on Armenia TV Mondays and
Saturdays. The program is followed by the screening of the restored
version of a movie.
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5. Visuality: Oceanic sensations
* Rachel Hovnanian and Robert Ohnigian among exhibitors
by Raphy Sarkissian
NEW YORK — A group exhibition at Jason McCoy Gallery titled "Options
within Realism" comprised a broad range of media and themes linked
through the common denominator of "realism." The plurality of styles
ranged from pure illusion to pure abstraction, along with various
beguiling in-betweens. This tactic corroborated the tenet encapsulated
in the exhibition’s title: that "realism" is a pliable phenomenon that
can be redefined endlessly through thematic options, media, and forms.
Three works arranged in close proximity ushered in the curatorial
tour de force of probing "realism."
In Freya Payne’s "Mother, Daughter" (2006), a hyper-real female bust
placed on a steel trolley gazes with full scrutiny at a closely framed
portrait of her daughter on the wall. And the daughter reciprocates
the gaze. Here sculpture and painting are in an absorbing discourse.
While the former replicates the three-dimensional, corporeal body, the
latter maps itself to the image within the viewer’s eye and mind. In a
sense, therefore, one is tempted to reflect on the supposition that
painting "mirrors" the image within the eye, and that sculpture
"mirrors" the body itself.
A crucial question here revolves around the correspondence of
sculpture to physicality and of painting to vision, visual imagery,
perception, and visuality. Options within media come across as
oppositional yet equally compelling options within "realism." Through
"Mother, Daughter," Payne invites the viewer to tackle Leonardo da
Vinci’s note that sculpture shows with little labor what in painting
appears miraculously. Latent within this quandary concerning the
medium, however, is the psychoanalytic parameter of the imago — that
image of the parent that structures the subject’s unconscious.
Karen Gunderson’s superb "Churning Sea-Fluke Print" (2007) was
placed above Payne’s painting. This abstract, black oil-on-panel
monochrome performed a self-referential function through tactile
brushstrokes that nonetheless generate an altering, glowing
reflectivity.
On the left was Dodo Jin Ming’s breathtaking seascape photograph
titled "Free Element XIV" (2001). Mother, daughter, the "terribilita"
of nature and abstraction: this thematic ensemble effectively
challenged the myth of "realism."
Perhaps it was the cardinal sin of hanging pictures so close to each
other that allowed the viewer to contemplate the meaning and
phenomenology of realism. As the degree of representation of these
three works ranged from the purely figurative (the bust and the
portrait) to what seemed as the least referential (the monochrome),
"realism" became stated as relational rather than absolute. As the
ocean, the sea, the horizon, the sky, air and light render their own
realism so slippery, they seem to place the body as the primary
qualifier of realism. Yet the logic of such an assumption is hardly
adequate, since the "realism" of the body remains inseparable from
that of vast nature.
* Nature and the body
On an adjacent wall was a 1951 screenprint of Jackson Pollock, based
on the enamel-on-canvas painting titled "Number 7, 1951" of the
National Gallery of Art. This image brilliantly abstracts and
underscores the two-way relation between nature and the body. By
reverting from "pure abstraction" into "partial figuration" in 1951,
Pollock turned the reasoning of abstraction on its head. Through a
compositional diptych, the image renders lines "in space" as a
reference to nature on the left, while lines "in space" allude to the
metamorphosed anthropomorphic figure on the right.
Insofar as the body is concerned, the negative spaces of the paper
render themselves readily as symbolic of the inseparability of nature
from the body. It is the formalistic proximity of these entities —
the invisibility of air, the infinitude of nature, and the complexity
of the material body — that seems to annul the diametrical opposition
of "realism" and "abstraction."
In as much as the abstract image and the photograph may distance
themselves from each other on the level of illusion, the proximity of
Pollock’s drawing to a vintage silver print of Brancusi came across as
a superb instance of the historical trajectory of painting’s
abstraction in relation to the "realism" of photography. Indeed,
"L’Atelier," a circa 1927 photograph of Brancusi depicting his supreme
abstract sculptures in the studio, covertly invites us to
photography’s discursive spaces and its implicit relation to
abstraction.
* The horizontal plane
If this earliest work in the exhibition tackled "realism" through the
dichotomy of photography and abstraction, the 2007 "Satori II" of
Rachel Hovnanian came across as one complex pictorial paradigm of our
digital era. This large-scale giclée print on canvas, a digital
photograph, while thoroughly detached from the medium and modality of
Pollock’s 1947 to 1950 drip paintings, came across as contrapuntal to
Pollock’s chaotic and rhythmic abstractions.
Pollock’s profound rethinking of the upright position of easel
painting and its relation to the field of sight jettisoned the
gestalt, form and beauty. As such, in 1947 he resisted the "prägnanz,"
the good gestalt, by flinging paint to the horizontal field.
Contrarily, the very title and scrupulous accuracy of Hovnanian’s
"Satori II" signify the epitome of beauty, jubilating the very
gestalt, form and beauty that Pollock demolished. Yet the aerial view
of Hovnanian’s Narcissus flowers evoke Pollock’s horizontal placement
of the canvas during his process of slinging liquid paint onto it. As
illusory as it might be, Hovnanian’s photograph connotes a level
surface within the studio where the composition was constructed. The
flattened, recessive background here, albeit now upright, translates
itself as metaphorical of a horizontal ground of the Narcissus
flowers.
The "realism" of "Satori II" is manifold. It is highly figural to
the extent that it preserves the Narcissus through the camera’s eye,
freezing it pictorially, aestheticizing it, transforming it to
strangeness and sterility. Its baroque ground, however, contrarily
opposite to the figure, renounces illusion through flatness. Yet
paradoxically the ground signifies infinite depth as well. As such,
Hovnanian’s photograph attaches itself to the discursive kernel of
photography. Thematically, formalistically, historically, conceptually
and poetically, "Satori II" enfolds a visual matrix. It is a sum of
oppositions and parallelisms, of realism and abstraction. It conveys
pure stillness, but it also kindles the concept "of something
limitless, unbounded, something ‘oceanic,’" as Sigmund Freud
characterized the "oneness with the universe."
* Abandoning the awesome
The seashore and ocean appear dusty, hazy and abstracted in Robert
Ohnigian’s small, five-by-eight-inch collage titled "Collage
Landscape." Ohnigian uses the least substantial elements to signify a
seascape. The resulting image evokes the "minor mode" of the hermit of
Bologna Giorgio Morandi. Having abolished linearity and high contrasts
in order to invite the contemplation of the beholder, Ohnigian’s
seascape whispers like a remembrance. It is hard not to read the
"oceanic" theme and manner of "Collage Landscape" as a simultaneous
reinvention of and homage to pittura metafisica: "metaphysical
painting."
The "realism" of Ohnigian is one of reticence. If it entices
sublimity or transcendental reality, it does so through its miniature
scale, modesty, and suspension of the seen and unseen, the material
and immaterial, the tangible and intangible. The aesthetic vocabulary
of "Collage Landscape" abandons the awesome and the overwhelming as
means of an ontological quest. For a moment, it comes forth as a pure,
egoless abstraction freed of much of Postmodernist decorum.
"Disappearing," an oil-on-canvas painting by Joan Semmel, can hardly
sum up the broad formalistic and thematic logic of "Options within
Realism." Nevertheless, this work ingeniously unfolds an inescapable
painterly logic of modernity.
Semmel’s painting shows us a nearly three-quarter length female
figure (the artist looking at herself in the mirror), standing
upright, facing the viewer, fully out of focus, with an allusion to an
object (a camera) in her left hand. Suspended between the theme of
Artemisia Gentilleschi’s "Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting"
of 1638-39 and the syntax of Analytic Cubism, "Disappearing" overlaps
realism, photography, and abstraction. One contention it seems to
account for is the disappearance of painting’s "realism" due to
photography’s triumph.
Yet perhaps an equally compelling contention Semmel’s painting
posits is that neither the conventional "realism" of painting nor the
illusionism of photography are the sole options of "recording" the
visible world. Nor is abstraction. Rather, within the triangulated
content of this image, the viewer confronts the transitoriness of
vision, now simultaneously inflected through the aftermaths of
"realism," "photography" and "abstraction." The painting’s unification
of the three conjures up Freud’s concept of the "oneness of the
universe," the concept of "the oceanic feeling." The "oceanic"
sensation of Semmel’s picture rolls, whispering and calling: "Realism
is relative rather than absolute."
***
Raphy Sarkissian teaches at the School of Visual Arts in New York City.
******************************************* ********************************
6. The Armenian collection of the world’s largest library
* A conversation with Levon Avdoyan of the Library of Congress
On August 28, the Reporter’s Washington editor Emil Sanamyan visited
with the Dr. Levon Avdoyan, Armenian specialist at the Library of
Congress. They spoke about the Library’s Armenian programs and
collections. This is the second part of the interview; Part One,
published in the September 8 edition of the Armenian Reporter, focused
on the September 28 round table on U.S.-Armenian relations that was
organized by Dr. Avdoyan and for the first time brought together five
former U.S. ambassadors to Armenia.
Reporter: What significance does this Library’s Armenian collection
have when it comes to concentration of Armenian knowledge worldwide?
Avdoyan: It is and has always been unique for one important reason.
We are the largest library in the world. According to the last count
there are between 132 and 133 million items. The second largest is the
Russian National Library in Saint Petersburg, which I think has 40 or
41 million items.
So, when you have Armenian language materials and combine them with
materials that are in twenty other reading rooms, you have a resource,
which you do not have anywhere else.
In manuscripts, you have [Ambassador] Henry Morgenthau’s papers. And
now you have [filmmaker] Rouben Mamoulian’s papers.
In geography and maps, we have one of the largest, if not the
largest geographical collection in the world. You have some, at the
time confidential, Caucasus border maps that were used at the Council
of Versailles to end World War I. And you actually have maps with
lines drawn [by hand to indicate borders] of the mandates.
In prints and photographs, you have the Sultan Abdul Hamid II
photographic albums. They were prepared to be given to the United
States with beautiful photographs of Ottoman Turkey [in the late 19th
century]. The photographs were taken by a company run by three
Armenian brothers.
We have those photographs along with posters of the Near East Relief
[calling for funds to help victims of anti-Armenian massacres in
Turkey].
Reporter: Do previously classified or confidential U.S. government
documents that are made public typically come here?
Avdoyan: No, we are in essence the repository of published
government documents. The [U.S.] National Archives is the repository
for unpublished documents. Having said that, we do have presidential
papers though [the early 20th century], including those of President
Woodrow Wilson. We have Morgenthau’s [papers] because he deposited
them with us. We have other papers that have been given to the
library. But this is not the place where unpublished government
documents would automatically go.
We do have missionary papers, for example those of William Goodell
who [in mid-19th century] was for decades a missionary in the Kharpert
region [of western Armenia]. His granddaughter Mary Barnum wrote
several letters to him in the Hamidian period [of the late 19th
century].
Reporter: What would you highlight from the main Armenian collection
at the library?
Avdoyan: What pleases me about this job is that I don’t even know
everything we have. What we have done thanks to Dr. James Billington
[the Librarian of Congress] is to make this a truly global library –
and more than 60 percent of our holdings are not in English.
In the last three to four years alone I was able to purchase through
a dealer some unique and rare [Armenian-language] publications from
the 18th and 19th centuries, including a lot of Armeno-Turkish books,
which we are restoring, and one very interesting book published in
Paris in 1856 on cotton production in New Orleans.
Some would ask me, Why are you getting these? But no one has
investigated for instance the role of Armenians in the cotton trade
between France and New Orleans and, by extension, [how that affected]
the role of France in the American Civil War.
Or an 1836 Armenian pamphlet from Venice with a wonderful
photogravure of what a firefighter should wear to escape injury while
fighting fires. I don’t know of anything else we have like that and
that is in Armenian.
And then there are the more traditional works like the Chronicle of
the Eusebius of Caesarea, published in 1797, which is still more
complete than any Greek remnant of the original that had survived.
So we have been very rich in expanding the collections.
Reporter: Does the Armenian collection include publications in
languages other than Armenian?
Avdoyan: Those publications, be they in English, French, or Russian
would be part of the Main Reading Room and general collections – as
opposed to the Armenian-language ones, which are part of the Middle
Eastern Reading Room.
Our Russian-language collections on Armenia are very extensive and
are extremely important, starting with the [Russian] takeover [of
eastern Armenia] in the 1820s, of course.
Reporter: And what if a book is written in the Armenian alphabet but
in Turkish? Where would it go?
Avdoyan: It would be part of the Turkish collection. But we do have
a special designation for Armeno-Turkish items. As a matter of fact
that I must have bought close to 200 of these the past three years. I
think there are about 3,000 [Armeno-Turkish books] in total and we are
doing a great job in [acquiring and preserving them].
People don’t know this but Armeno-Turkish was published into the
1930s and 40s in some areas. And the rationale for this was of course
that Armenians living in the Ottoman Empire knew Turkish, but did not
know the Ottoman script and so they wrote in Turkish with Armenian
letters. (Just as Greco-Turkish was Ottoman Turkish written in Greek
letters.) And in addition to Istanbul, Smyrna [Izmir], and Jerusalem,
books in Armeno-Turkish were published in Europe as well.
When I first came here the Armeno-Turkish publications were pretty
much restricted to religious subjects – bibles and commentaries. Since
then we found quite a few secular books, some of them on topics I did
not think were covered at the time.
There are histories of Napoleon in Armeno-Turkish. There is an 1856
Armeno-Turkish translation of an Edgar Allan Poe book published in
Venice – which was the first foreign-language translation of that book
from English.
Reporter: Who is directly benefiting from these collections?
Avdoyan: We are open to everyone above college age. We have college
and graduate students who do research in our collections. We have
congressional staff members. We have interns from the Armenian lobby
groups calling or coming in. We get the general interest public. We
get international scholars who get in touch via Internet.
Frankly, I wish we had more use, but the Library of Congress is in a
location [right next to the U.S. Capitol] that is not easy to get to.
I would love to be able to offer fellowships to students and scholars
to come to the Library to study our collections. We have brought two
Armenian scholars, including one from Israel, on the John W. Kluge
fellowship.
And we get scholars from European countries that have renowned
collections, but that have smaller budgets and as a result are not
able to acquire as much as we do.
My pride in this job comes from the knowledge that I have connected
a researcher with something that is extremely important for his or her
research. That makes everything worthwhile. Because, after all, this
is what we are here for, to serve as a reference, and not just collect
materials which will gather dust. We want people to use them.
Secondly, I have modeled my life after a saying by the Roman
playwright Terence: "Nothing human is foreign to me." Except I have
rephrased that into "Nothing Armenian is foreign to me." What I have
tried to do with the help of my colleagues is to gather all aspects of
Armenian culture in this place.
Reporter: Can anyone just come in to look at original documents like
the manuscripts or maps?
Avdoyan: He or she would have to speak to the individual area
specialist and chances of [access] being denied are minimal. This is
everyone’s library and all you need for access is a reader’s card and
that takes just ten to twenty minutes to get.
That person would come to me and I would make a determination of
whether that person needs that actual original or if a microfilm of it
would do. If the actual document has to be brought, we have a special
table and instructions on how these would have to be handled.
And most people who need the actual documents know how to handle them.
We have a very skilled conservator, Tamara Ohanyan, in our
conservation department, who has restored several old Armenian
manuscripts and books. During her first volunteer year here she was
able to restore a 17th-century gospel which was like a ball from fire
and water damage and was unusable. She spent six months restoring it
and it is totally usable now. She also restored two 1725 printed
Hamalirs (prayer scrolls) – again exquisitely.
Nowadays the chances of us procuring those sorts of documents are
less than they used to be. I have been very close to buying an
extremely important work only to learn that the provenance was not
clear and we would simply not bid on or buy something that is illegal
to get.
For instance, I cannot buy manuscripts from Turkey, because there is
a law, just like in other countries, Armenia included, against taking
manuscripts out of Turkey. On the other hand, they do not yet have a
patrimony law on published materials, so I could buy any published
materials in Turkey. That could change – in Armenia now there is a
patrimony law on [older] published materials as well.
Reporter: And how is the acquisition process conducted for Armenian
publications?
Avdoyan: The way we collect materials is that we have a contract
with a book dealer for materials published in Armenia for the past
five years.
We have a series of exchanges with Armenia, where we have a number
of partners that would send us books of interest to us, and we would
send them books that interest them.
We then have a series of overseas offices, for instance in Rio de
Janeiro, Nairobi, etc. One that is really important for us is Cairo –
we have a staff member there who works with me to collect Armenian
materials from around the Middle East (not including Armenia).
Finally, we have a budget for retrospective purchases – these are
books older than five years. And indeed this how we acquired the
Voskan bible published in 1666 in Amsterdam, the first complete bible
published in Armenian.
And we have gifts. The Library of Congress is always going to be
here. And I am strong in my belief that the Armenian presence here is
important for the future. So, we certainly welcome more gifts.
Reporter: Is there also an effort to expand into multimedia, audio,
and video Armenian-language resources?
Avdoyan: Yes. Dr. Billington is very interested in procuring
restored versions of films published in the Soviet era – especially
those of Sergei Parajanov. We do have some of the older versions,
obviously. And I work very closely with the motion pictures and
geography and maps [departments at the Library].
I would like to note that digitalization of our materials is done by
outside funds. To digitize our collections, I would need a private
grant to have it done. And I would like to see several such projects
done, such as the Armenian maps, for example.
I have noticed that a growing number of people expect to find
materials on line. So, what I would like to underscore is that
Armenian studies is not the same as Western studies. Important
materials are not digitized. There are still the issue of standards
and reliable OCR [optical character recognition] that allows you to
scan texts.
At this point the best materials are still physical copies. And
people could view them either by coming here or by going to their
public libraries and requesting duplicates of the original via
inter-library loan.
Some materials are already on line, however. If you were to go into
prints and photographs online catalogue you would see well over 200
Armenian [items] already available in digital form. If you went into
what is called the "California Gold" [series] you would find about 100
Armenian songs recorded in the 1930s among the immigrant population of
California. They went around just to record the songs of ethnic groups
just as they would sing them in a village – not polished or highly
instrumented.
Reporter: And how about the video record since Armenia’s independence?
Avdoyan: I don’t have much of that at all. We have these series on
minorities, such as on Assyrians and Jews of Armenia. [There may be]
some of the tapes from some of the news [media] groups produced here.
But I have not [specifically] collected them. There would certainly be
a home for them here if let’s say someone had a video archive and
wanted to donate it.
Connect:
ai/caihome.html
* Levon Avdoyan
Since 1992, Dr. Avdoyan has worked as Armenian and Georgian Area
Specialist in the Library of Congress in Washington. From 1982 to 1992
he was reference specialist for the Library’s Humanities and Social
Sciences Division. Over his 25-year career at the Library, Dr. Avdoyan
has received numerous achievement and meritorious service awards.
The Library’s Armenian collection began with 200 items – books,
periodicals, documents, manuscripts, and maps – in 1949. When Dr.
Avdoyan took over as Armenian specialist in 1992, the collection
numbered over 7,000 items and through his 15-year tenure it has grown
to nearly 30,000.
Prior to joining the Library, Dr. Avdoyan worked at the U.S.
Copyright Office as Library Examiner between 1978 and 1982, and as
research assistant to Columbia University history professor Morton
Smith.
Born in Providence, Dr. Avdoyan grew up in Florida and did his
undergraduate studies at the University of the South in Tennessee; he
subsequently earned his M.A. and Ph.D. at Columbia University.
In the early 1970s, Dr. Avdoyan conducted research in archives of
the Soviet Union (including in Leningrad, Moscow, Tbilisi, and
Yerevan), Greece, France and Italy (the Mkhitarist Monastery in
Venice). His doctoral thesis was on the "History of Taron," a
historical romance set in 7th-century Armenia.
Mr. Avdoyan’s working languages include Armenian (Classical, Modern
Western and Eastern), French, Classical Georgian, German, Classical
and Modern Greek, Italian, Latin and Russian.
**************************************** ***********************************
7. Theater: A Weekly Check-In
* reviewed by Aram Kouyoumdjian
There is little "Armenian" about The Weekly Armenian, a single-actor,
multicharacter piece written and performed by Bryan Coffee. No matter.
There is a lot to appreciate about this wildly funny show. That it
features an Armenian character is sheer bonus.
Although it clocks in at a mere 60 minutes, The Weekly Armenian,
which recently ended a month-long engagement at the NoHo Arts Center,
is densely packed with fierce humor and boasts a remarkable
performance by Coffee. Not only does he perform on a bare stage devoid
of props, but he also reveals an astonishing talent for vocalizing
wondrous sound effects to accompany his words.
This talent is on full display in the show’s opening sequence, in
which Coffee recreates a scene from a sci-fi movie – replete with
overlapping action that features a whole slew of characters. Its
outlandish plot has to do with a search for water resources amidst an
impending attack by enemy forces, but its triumph lies in Coffee’s
flawless jumps from montage to montage – replicating the sound effects
appropriate for each instance – and even re-enacting an entire battle
scene all by himself.
As it turns out, the sci-fi movie is one of Coffee’s distractions at
work, along with the visits of his weekly Armenian, who pops in to
offer running commentary about, well, everything. Global warming, for
instance. "Do you know," he blithely asks in accented and broken
English, "what it’s going to be like when the global warmings take
over?"
Soon he’s off, however, and Coffee is left to drift into a werewolf
movie or a documentary about predatory birds. This latter sketch
offers uproarious physical comedy, as Coffee imitates an eagle
swooping down in pursuit of its prey – who happens to be a hapless man
running for his life.
Not all the sketches work as well. Attempts at poignancy in a pair
of monologues – including one about a Harley-driving widower visiting
the gravesite of his late wife – come across as somewhat awkward,
while a bit about monster shrimp falls rather flat.
Those flaws aside, Coffee manages to craft an honest brand of comedy
that is observant and genuine. The humor in his writing builds
naturally, and even though he seems to appreciate the absurdities of
life, Coffee has not been made cynical by them.
As good as Coffee’s writing can be, it’s his unfaltering performance
that makes The Weekly Armenian such a winning piece. Coffee morphs
from one character to another with striking ease, exhibiting innate
comic talent with every transformation. He receives trusty help from
director John Breen, who injects a healthy amount of movement in the
piece to keep it visually vibrant.
Indeed, at its best, The Weekly Armenian delivers such hearty laughs
that it makes one wish he could visit more frequently.
***
Aram Kouyoumdjian is the winner of Elly Awards for both playwriting
(The Farewells) and directing (Three Hotels). His latest work is
Velvet Revolution.
************************************* **************************************
8. Essay: Extreme makeover
by Armen D. Bacon
As many of us attempt to navigate the ups and downs of midlife – a
fascinating and sometimes breathtaking passage marked by many changes
– it seems to be a perfect and opportune time to take personal
inventory of how we have lived, what we have achieved and even
acquired along the way. Character, age spots, land, and wisdom are all
up for grabs.
No matter what assets one may have gathered, there is a tendency to
wake up one morning with the strange feeling or suspicion that the
next chapter might well be the last, or in theatrical terms, the final
act. So the Alfie question along with a whole host of other profound
and sometimes intimate reflections, arrive at our spiritual doorstep,
all encased in the realization that time is suddenly of the essence.
There is a pulsing sense of urgency to live well, chase a dream, and
once and for all, find your place in the world.
In our instance, that field of dreams had always been Fresno.
Although the family compound, located in the northeast section of the
city, now bore more resemblance to an empty nest, its two stories
contained a multitude of joyous memories ranging from baptisms and
birthdays to school days and sleepovers. I delighted most in the
mundane souvenirs of everyday life – those day-to-day memories of our
Armenian-American family, the morning wake-up rituals, the smell of
pilaf cooking at dinnertime, running into friends at the grocery
store, family get-togethers on the weekends, and then starting it all
over again on Mondays.
Somewhere however, along the way, the rhyme, reason and rhythm of
life changed. The innocent childhood years were gone. Life had become
more complex. The pace had accelerated. And, to be perfectly blunt,
everything felt out of control.
As a result, I woke up one morning hell-bent on simplifying life.
The desire to downsize everything symbolized wiggle room, breathing
space, and a chance to grow in new directions. I longed to inhale
serenity and rediscover the pleasures of inner peace and calm. I had
seen signs of new life and the prospect of new adventures making their
appearance out on the horizon. Grandchildren. New trips and travels. A
second career.
Suddenly our living space posed a bit of a challenge. The house felt
too big. Life was feeling too short. Should we sell or stay put?
Remodel or rebuild? My husband and I considered moving, downsizing,
and relocating. At one point in our deliberations we had even
entertained the idea of liquidating our assets and purchasing one-way
tickets to the French Riviera. After a couple glasses of wine, it all
sounded seductive and within the realm of possibility. But I was a
Valley girl at heart; we were established and settled here with family
and community. The prospect of leaving Fresno felt unnatural and
unrealistic – more like the ultimate betrayal to our families,
friends, and mostly to ourselves. We woke up one morning and knew we
were here to stay.
So after 31 years of marriage and 17 years in this house, we are
choosing to stay put and remodel. To that end, the walls have come
tumbling down. There is a facelift in progress – and I assure you,
it’s not mine. Change is in the air. It’s exhilarating, scary, and
mostly very dusty. There are decisions to make and plans to approve.
We’re going through closets, sorting through the past, throwing away
clutter, handing things down, and giving things up. I have surrendered
to the perpetual state of chaos and am growing accustomed to the fine
layer of dust, which permeates my "everything." Sometimes I think it
is clogging my thinking process. I should probably be in escrow on a
small condo with low maintenance and no yardwork. But instead, I lay
awake at night wondering who in the world is going to clean this mess
once we are finished. There is so much to do. Our friends keep
reminding us that it will cost twice as much as we think and take at
least double the time we have scheduled. I feel as though I am on a
runaway train. And yet, I find myself feeling giddy at times –
throwing away useless utensils and putting in new appliances is in
some strange way cleansing to the soul. And so, for now, I remain
hopeful and optimistic. As if to mirror life, the decision to remodel
has become a daily test of personal stamina and resilience. And just
as in real life, things can get messy. But I am learning that if you
embrace the journey and stop long enough to catch your breath, you can
still smell the pilaf cooking in the kitchen. And what could be better
than that?
******************************************* ********************************
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