Permanence and Transience: Cooking vs. Art

My mother is an excellent cook. She can make just about anything from Moroccan tagine to traditional pot roast. And she can cook for the masses, catering my entire wedding, my cousin's wedding and both mine and my sis's Bat Mitzvahs. Absolutely none of this talent was passed on to me. Or maybe it was but never fully realized as I hate to cook.

I like the idea of pleasing my friends, exacting their love and admiration through gastronomy; but I loathe the notion of spending time creating these pleasures. Food is temporary. Hours spent, adding a pinch of this, a spoonful of that, seem wasted on transience.

Please do not get me wrong. I love cooks. I love food. I love home cooking. I am fortunate to reap the benefits of those whose creativity is ignited by food, whom are impassioned by the combination of spices, the grouping of flavors.

My art, however, is born out of a yearning for permanence. I screen print my images so they will last for centuries to come rather than using a computer to lifelessly copy my work. I hand-paint my cards so they are kept; records of a time and place serving as personal histories. The notion that what I create may last lifetimes excites me and serves to motivate.

But a good meal is remembered. I will never forget the calamari in Turkey or the steak in Belgium or my mother's homemade grapeleaves. And that recollection I pass on to others, as I do now. Thus cooking is not momentary, rather the memory intangible.

Thus I present Bouillon Kub (my homage, painted in gouache on wood, to the original bouillon cube packaging in France circa 1920 and, from what I understand, still used today) to all the amazing cooks out there. May your food be forever remembered.

So Tired (Daydreaming on a Scarlet Sofa)

So titled is this painting. And so titled am I--last week spent painting many new panels; this marketing said paintings. Becoming so engrossed in my work takes an emotional toll only later realized.

My images haunt me--they appear in my dreams, not as people from ages past (haute couture in an Art Nouveau style) but splashes of color I know are mine. They vex me, sitting in wait adjacent to the bedroom (my studio and drafting table are in the "vanity room"--a small Victorian style dressing room with a built-in armoire and dressing table) not having seen the light of day.

I find it peculiar that art should thus exist virtually; a series of code rather than a tangible image when a tangible image does indeed exist. And even more odd, that the audience also be virtual--a set of avatars and comments suited to inspire progress and provide inspiration.

As one who normally eschews technology, I could not be more grateful for it right now.

I shall post each new painting over the course of the next month and will execute many more. They are all painted in gouache (a water-based paint similar to watercolor but with more pigment producing a bolder, matte tone) on Plywerk (a handcrafted wood panel made in Portland, Oregon and using environmentally sustainable practices), ready to hang and available exclusively through my Etsy shop.

The Written Word

I sit here and write out this blog entry long hand with a fountain pen and a jar of ink. I have no cell phone, I do not drive and feel far more comfortable writing long hand. In college I used to write 40 page history term papers long hand and then transpose. I think better as I the cursive letters form quickly and smoothly, artfully transcribed upon my paper.

As I record my thoughts to be broadcast to the world, there are children staring at me who have only written a letter on a keyboard. My handwritten record could be found three hundred years hence and be a part of a history rather than a random sampling of computer code stored onto an obsolete machine. Tangibility is vital to understanding character, reality and life view. Examining my hand-writing could tell you I'm left-handed, female and a practiced correspondent. A tangible record proves I exist, where I exist and my station in life. Will history understand us as we really were or rather as the virtual reality we now strive to create?

I yearn to provide a living record of my life through my art--how I live, why I live and whom and what I live for. It is that which we physically leave in our wake which proves our existence at all. Those whom we celebrate in our collective social memory are those who left physical tangible remnants for later generations to venerate. With such few examples left to date those that are existant are invaluable regardless of the life lived. In the digital age, a time of infinite information stored onto countless pieces of plastic, what will prove valuable long after our demise?

All of my images are now available as original paintings, ready to be hung. Each is painted in gouache onto Plywerk, a handmade substrate board created by my wonderful friend and colleague, Kjell van Zoen. Pictured is "Farewell Kabarista" painted in gouache on Plywerk and available through my Etsy shop.