It occurs to me that I've never fully explained what I'm doing or why I'm doing it.

Not that it matters really. Sometimes life boils down to either 'getting it' or 'not getting it'. Besides some of my favorite heroes never seemed to feel the need for explanation at all. They just Live. As we all perhaps should. Sometimes an explanation is like an excuse to try to make up for something. I get to hear a lot of those actually. I probably give a lot of them too. In such a busy time, things are bound to be forgotten.

I think, however, that I have been fully honest vocally with anyone who's ever asked me about the cultural center. I'll say it's my mid-life crisis. And perhaps people should have them sooner. To me, this is my little red sport car or the younger romantic interest or the fad diet or fake tan. In the end everyone who has what is called a mid-life crisis is just trying to be accepted or decipher who they really are. We spend so much time trying to be who we should be, or what others want us to be. In time we’ve forgotten ourselves. We get out of alignment with ourselves, so to speak. Or perhaps, I should say, that's what happened to me.

So I conceived and opened up this little place that I hoped many could enjoy. I thought that if I felt this way about this absence of identity, maybe other did too.

The thing is... the identity is Beautiful, and Fun, and Dynamic... it's difficult to explain. It's complex ... a paradox... like a mandala: reflective, an ever changing maze, a stream of consciousness.

My simple thought for the future. The dream is not fully realized. Wouldn’t it be nice to see a permanent multi-cultural hands on art exhibit be present. It could consist of things for younger children like dress-up clothes, or plastic foods, or art activities. For those who want to show their children the world without getting on an airplane.

And for older kids (like me), renditions of paintings or sculpture with descriptions could be displayed on the walls or pedestals. They could be touched, walked around, and read about. The Anasazi cliff paintings, for example, or Anagama Zen pottery, or cool sleek trends of popular culture throughout history, or images from world celebrations and what they symbolize.

Where are you from? What about your parents? Grandparents? How far back do you have to go back in time before you find your family in another country? What was it like then? What is it like now? What an amazing world we do live in.

This could be complemented with traveling exhibitions to keep the center current. And the exhibitions could be paired with film, or discussions, or books.

I have a few in mind. But I’d love to hear from others as well!

I remember when I worked at the Peace Museum in Chicago. I would ride the train and subway to get to Erie Street and walk all the way to the teeny weeny little place all the way at the desolate end of the road. It was adjacent to what were Cabrini Green housing projects at the time. I remember the little boys from there used to come in to ask to sweep for a dime or a quarter. A pretty sketchy neighborhood.

I remember when someone told me that Yoko Ono gave them $20,000 that they were really doing well - because That was a Lot of Money! Well, yes that may be a lot of money. But when rent is $10,000 a month and you have to pay staff, and get new walls made for changing exhibits, and all that...$20,000 became a Symbol of Support... for an idea that was loved and cherished... This idea was living art...not a single sculpture, or a single painting, but a collection that indicated a movement, a shift in the paradigm.

Later the museum grew. It attracted more famous supporters. It moved around. It inspired me. It taught me. It helped me grow as a person.

Inspire. Teach. Grow. A simple thought for the future.

Posted by grumble at 09:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Being Real, not Ideal

May 5, 2007 journal entry

I have often been accused of being an idealist,

but I always felt that what was trying to be said in a polite manner was that I am a dreamer, a stargazer, and a romantic. In fact, I admire those who are able to dream, stargaze, and romanticize. I am not one of those. I am the one always trying to figure out how to make the nobler dreams come true. What are the nuts and bolts of it? When I take it apart, what does it look like – how does it work? Efficiency and streamlining are my favorite ideals to bask in. No, I am not an idealist: one who pursues high or noble principles. I am more a mechanic, a pragmatist, and an advocate for the ones with the higher ideals and nobler purpose. I appreciate rough edges and flaws as symbols of humanity, rather than seeking perfection, idealism. Free expression, even if it is painful or ugly or even on occasion offensive to some viewers, is reflective of ourselves.

Let me share some inspiration that makes a lot of sense. Robert Rabbin, a prolific spiritual consultant to the business world, says,
“I don’t know why we have traded away our human beingness for transcendent ideals… We love the idea that we are emptiness, or silence, or pure consciousness. We are these things, but not exclusively… That’s the hard part: to integrate enormous endlessness with our daily life… If we are going to ascend, then let us remember to descend. If we are going to travel to otherworldly realms, let’s not forget to come back to the kitchen where we eat.”

I pair this with the lecture I heard by Rev. Dr. Marty Martins recently on the National Day of Prayer. He talked about strangers. He made several literary references, mostly of religious context. It being our moral duty not to turn the stranger away and such. The stranger being of a multitude of races, or faces, ethnicity, sizes, shapes. Of course, he reminds us the reality of this is to err with caution, not naiveté. My mind, however, went to Camus’ Stranger. Have you read it? Unaware. The one without emotion. The one who kills the Arab on the Beach.

****

So where is this kitchen where we eat? Maybe it is in the embrace and forgiveness of a long lost family member, or in memory, or in a poem. Maybe it is in hidden in the simple things. Many artists, in their journey, take vows of solitude to meditate on their art. Maybe it is in moments of solitude. Maybe in our kitchen we serve the joy of the unveiling, the revelation of the art and the converging of friends.

Where are we in Maslow’s ‘hierarchy of need’ individually, as a community, as a state, as a country? And does this pyramid infer that we need creativity, we need achievement, we need love as we need safety, and food. Is the food we make in our kitchen just to keep us physiologically functioning, or do we serve food for the soul, for the intellect, and for the spirit?

Food for the soul. The intrinsic value of the arts radiates immeasurable silent worth for physical health, mental health, spiritual health. The arts are aesthetic, for the senses, as well as expressive, of the senses. The aesthetic or the purgative content exorcizes the spirit and soul of the artist as well the viewer. This fulfills our distinctly human need for self-actualization and self-transcendence (spiritual peace). The Arts documents our collective culture leaving behind noteworthy bits of what will be later studied as a part of history, a part of our legacy.

Greg Mortensen says we must live in hope. And I do believe, without it, we have nothing in which to even consider building.

Cleaning our kitchen, making it work.

Like a car without an engine sometimes.

We innately look for the aesthetic value: beauty, power, utility, validation.

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