Two totally different visions. One with a clean white canvas, the other black. Bright orange animal with a mug, haunting tones of blue shroud a skull-like form. Quiet, reserved and covered in paint daubs … outgoing, perpetually moving and ever the promoter. Henry and Xavier are two sides of a coin, but the same artist coin nonetheless. Spun and I were happy to see the underpaintings turn into more at Faire Gallery & Café. Hopefully we’ll see some photos of the final products on their sites. Looking forward to the next artistic encounter.

7.30.2001

Airplanes & dawn. Deep black sky is laced by a foundation of sapphire & followed by a thin band of fire. Cruising @ 37,000 feet above the Atlantic on our way to England marks my first time overseas. If this is what the seas have to offer, make me a sailor. Voyaging through the dark of night, exploring the unknown.

A young boy stares captivated out the fire escape window. Captivated by the dazzling sky & clouds that have recently come into view he props himself on his elbows and gazes. Is he returning home to India? Is he merely here to make me appreciate my own childhood & child within? What a beautiful moment.

While I’ve learned to avoid using a lot of the same language two or three times within run on sentences since then, I think I knew something before I even got to India … that I was returning home to it. India was always in me, it still is. The colors, the smells, the excitement, the plains, the mountains, the ornate riches, the doors, the alleys, the people. My disdain for western culture has perpetually ebbed and flowed within me for the past decade. I’ve embraced technology while at the same point found solace in the simple beauty of a snail or a meadow. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to fully meet the demands of the me in the next entry, but I’m glad to know I can reflect back on these moments and feel that fire burning.

8.26.2011

I thought going to India would help me appreciate what I have here in the US. It didn’t. Just going to India can lead you to the Radisson with five star restaurants & private bowling alleys or tropical beach resorts with drinks in beach chairs overlooking the sunset of a life time. Or it can take you to a life altering mountaintop that makes you, not helps you, realize that what we truly need to seek is not more material gain but more personal understanding

As a 21 year old American male I have bought into the sales pitches of cars, TVs, stereos, you name it. I own 3 times more DVDs than every year I’ve been alive, my computer cost nearly as much as my car, I have enough clothes to last me for nearly one month without ever having to do laundry and what happens when I go to the store? “Oh, I need that. I’ll be a better person if that’s in my home.”

WRONG

Newsflash. There is an innumerable amount of people in Delhi because so many of the people do not have homes. Unless you consider a rickshaw a mobile home, tens of thousands of people sleep in the street homeless every night. Are they worried about their latest pair of Nike shoes that made sound effects when you run? I think not.

Let’s travel to the north for a minute shall we? Ladakh. A region in the Indian Himalayas that has been open to tourists since 1974. Home of some of the greatest Buddhist monasteries the world has ever laid eyes on. Within this area is a village named Alchi, site of a 1001 year old temple. The people’s hearts here are open flowers willing to show you the area or offer you a cup of tea over conversation. Drought has hit this valley to the point where 40% of the farms cannot produce crops this year. As a member of the Global Eco Spiritual Tours 2001 Ladakh tour group, I had the honor of giving a solar panel & electric lantern to a family who up until August 6th had no power. Now they are extremely grateful to have a fluorescent lamp in their home. The woman I gave this gift to broke down into tears as she repeatedly touched her hand to her head as a symbol of utmost respect & thanks. To me it was just a lamp, to her it was the greatest gift she had ever been given. She walked home that night with a new passion for life and a light to guide her along the way. I too received a light guiding my passion, but it shines within.

I refuse to fall prey to the ads demanding that I lose weight or gain more material wealth, get more from my car or give more to my job. We can learn a lot from the Buddhist communities in Northern India. They have happiness even when they don’t have water enough to grow crops. Their faith runs deeper than the deepest valleys & can withstand even the longest droughts. It pangs me to say that that greatly overshadows probably all of us Americans who sit comfortably @ home in our ergonomic chairs and posturepedic mattresses, and it doesn’t exclude me.

I am going to try. Try to stop spending frivolously on things that I really can live without, quite easily too mind you. Try to focus on what life has to offer me rather than the next salesman I see when I change the channel. Try to find out who I am and who I want to be rather than who everyone else thinks I am & who they want me to be. Try to remember the fluorescent light as it disappeared into the ebony night, beginning a new journey into a village unknown.

So what do you say? Will you try something new and reject the commercialism that America keeps putting in our feed bags or will you jump back on the conformation super highway? Look around you. Look inside you. Do you have a light or do you need one? If you have one share it with someone who may be dim or blown out. If you need one, then stop buying into the lies force fed to you & follow your heart. Soon you’ll glow brighter than the stars on a clear Himalayan night. In either case, step out and make a choice, and dont forget to lend your light to other travelers along the way.

I love the young-manifesto that I threw down on paper on my flight from India. A decade ago, I returned home, smelly, sweaty, sick with food poisoning, but changed. A Truth in me was confirmed, yet somehow, more questions filled my mind than answers. I intend on returning to India, seeing how this magical country has evolved since I was there ten years ago. My heart is still with you India, and yours with mine.

From there we rolled up to Naked City Brewery in Greenwood where our friend Tim Frommer’s brown ale was on tap for winning a Seattle Beer Pro Am. Tasty tasty beer Tim (so good we got a growler of it Saturday night … but I’m getting ahead of myself). Great time kicking it with some friends, got to meet a few other people and then we hit the street to check out some art … yup, because of course, there’d be a great showing of local art in the street right as we’re done enjoying a tasty beer. Turns out John Osgood opened up a gallery across the street, Urban Contemporary Art Gallery and had three of his artist friends helping him with a two sided graffiti improv show.

So I got to talking with Zachary Bohnenkamp as he was finishing up his half of one tag teamed piece about shooting a photo a day on the way in to work and was curious how he got going on doing spray work. Good stories on back in the day. Then we were introduced to Xavier Lopez who amongst other things writes an article for the Seattle PI about the underground art scene in Seattle. Great stuff. The interview with Weirdo about the 619 being torn down is excellent. We’ll dearly miss this mecca of mindpower, art, creativity and … well … questionable architecture. So then he recommended we check out John’s place for some other amazing artwork. Oh man, I’m so glad he did. Mat Savage, Weirdo, Jeese Link, Justin Kane Elder, Ninjagrl, Narboo and a whole host of other amazing local artists. Truly amazing. We’ll post up the photos of our pieces at some point soon. No idea how we didn’t get them captured. Kim got a gorgeous orange bird by John Osgood and I walked away with a chickadee “perched” on the intersection of I-90 and I-5. The mixed media nature of overlaying a beautiful painting … depicted in a bottle as well … over top of a map of my favorite city just sang to me. I’ve been looking for the right chickadee for a tattoo … maybe this will be it.

So we are giddy with life, good art, etc. I thank Xavier and he says, amazingly, “Go back and snag one of my prints.” No lie. So I head back under, have a lovely conversation with his two associates who were staffing his section of the gallery and made my way home with a deer-unicorn-woman that spoke to Spun earlier in the evening (unbeknownst to me) as well. Amazing. Thank you.

So how does this all end? Yup, with more art. A friend texts us with “I’ve got two extra tix to SAM Remix tonight, wanna join?” Given that it was the weekend of “Yes” we had to, right? So we dance in the park where we were wed, under the massive moon, amongst friends, strangers, people who cared about this city as much as we do. Stunning way to end the evening. Thank you Michelle.

Saturday

How do you top that? With a sister, her fiancée and puppy in town! We head for Skillet Diner for some breakfast. So full. Never had that huge of a portion of biscuits and gravy before in my life. Coupled with a portion of a cinnamon roll, bloody mary, granola and who knows what else, I was stuffed. As she and Charlie headed over the mountains for her 10 year high school reunion, we went to go see the Sounders. Oh, right, you’re asking, why are Spun and I going to a Sounders game? We’re not sports fans, right? Troof. But, weekend of “Yes” dictated that we accept tix from a friend who couldn’t go. Yet again, running theme here, it was rad. Seats were near the southeast corner … get this … third row. Though they tied, 0-0 against Chivas USA, it was a true experience. Remind me never to sit in the crazy fan section. That’s nutty.

Where to next you may ask? Oh, a surprise park birthday party picnic. Ladder ball, wine, beer, more laughter, super tasty veggie food, some sun, some shade … some sunset, some … let’s go inside. Which led to the greatest match of pop a shot ever, more shenanigans, birthday cheer, and a whole bunch of etcetera. Another absolutely phenomenal day.

Sunday

Here we go. Final push for a killer weekend. How to start, how to start… Pop open the tent we picked up from REI the day before in the living room to make sure it’s all good to go. Nothing short of made of win. Tents, my friends, have come a long way. I’m actually intrigued to go camping now. From there we BBQ’d great burgers with bleu cheese, avocado, over more amazing time with Becky and Charlie before they flew back to LA. So happy to kick it with you guys Congrats on the upcoming nuptials as well! Some errands to be ran were a must for the weekend and then we hit up Schmitz Preserve Park to break in the hiking boots, see some ferns, big trees and explore a forest.

Little did I know, that Spun had something up her sleeve as well. Under the Schmitz bridge, there is a ton of great graffiti. Much of it has been painted over fairly recently … as goes the vast majority of these sorts of pieces of art in Seattle … but there were a few still remaining.

One of which looked almost like it was done in pastels or perhaps with a brush. This “magic mushroom” stood out as the clear winner.

Other shelf mushrooms kept it company in the forest as we roamed about, splashing in puddles and streams, going off the beaten path here and there, and pausing constantly for tiny shafts of sun alighting delicately on moss or mushies.

Ok, so we’re nearly there, an epic weekend with one more choice. Curl up on the couch and watch a movie (Spoiler alert, we did that too later … Battle Los Angeles … bad) or roam Alki beach. Yes. Splashing in the water is much colder than I expected in August.

There was a huge Hindi/Indian festival going on too with fun music, good food, etc. Man I love this city. New plans for the rest of the summer include: biking on Alki and boarding on Alki. Both will likely include chowder and perhaps ice cream. Hopefully, that weekend will also be another one of “Yes” much like we had for the past two days and some change.

To all of you who we had the honor of spending time with: THANK YOU. This was a perfect weekend. One for the recordbooks. One for you to hopefully enjoy just a little bit as much as we did. Maybe I should extend “Yes” to the work week sometime. Perhaps it’d culminate in more amazing than I could have originally expected.

Yesterday we had a surprise birthday party for our dear friend Katrina who’s breaking into her 30s very soon. A bunch of us relaxed in the park, had some bubbly as well as some delicious brown ale compliments of the brewing mastermind, Tim Frommer (on tap now at Naked City), played some ladderball, and then kicked it indoors shortly after the sun went down. Brrr. Gorgeous day. Happy birthday Katrina!

In a bizarre way, I felt as if I was peering into the world of this tiny basement Belltown apartment which was completely drenched in shadows. Bars on the mesh reinforced windows kept the darkness pent up. Yet emerging from the shadows was a pale glimmer of a rose. Hastily I shot one photo because I didn’t want to invade the privacy of the rose, or the people living in this cave. Call it voyeuristic or just inquisitive, but I wonder what exists behind the layer of dust and darkness and why only a single rose exists to break down the barrier of blackness.

Inspired by the rose, I set out on a quest for poetry … more specifically a Sonnet. Quickly I found one from Shakespeare (go figure) that seems to be very apropos. Sonnet 54:

O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give.
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly
When summer’s breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo’d and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.

Likewise No Rose That In A Garden Ever Grew by Edna St. Vincent Millay seemed to hit the darkness and beauty of the rose quite well.

No rose that in a garden ever grew,
In Homer’s or in Omar’s or in mine,
Though buried under centuries of fine
Dead dust of roses, shut from sun and dew
Forever, and forever lost from view,
But must again in fragrance rich as wine
The grey aisles of the air incarnadine
When the old summers surge into a new.
Thus when I swear, “I love with all my heart,”
‘Tis with the heart of Lilith that I swear,
‘Tis with the love of Lesbia and Lucrece;
And thus as well my love must lose some part
Of what it is, had Helen been less fair,
Or perished young, or stayed at home in Greece.

Photo courtesy of Yay Everyday

Fireflies darting in and out over a hidden forest trail. Simply stunning. Reminds me of living in Ohio for a few years growing up, running through fields with a jar, trying to spot them just as they turned their lights out. My sister and I found more mosquitos than fireflies, if I recall correctly, but this photo definitely makes me want to grab a mason jar and blast through the screen door into the dusk.

The Stranger, Archie Bell & The Drells, and a patch of sunshine. I can almost hear summer coming.