Another Woman's Life, Gujurat

This was one of the rare times that we had a few minutes to spend outside in the Gujurat state, in a small village that although removed, was no stranger to selling the most amazing embroidered textiles. It was hard to know where to look first, for the people were as beautiful as their crafts.

Lasting Impressions

Lots of people are still asking me about my Indian trip gone wrong. As I reach to remember, I cannot help but think back on the searing sunlight and the way that it played against the rich complexions of those that we glimpsed along the way. The whites of a shirt or the glimmer from a sari sparkled, still sit in my memory. Before I left, I tried to anticipate what it would feel like and grounded a few pages of my sketchbook. These singular people are iconic of the India that I experienced.

Curry in a Hurry

It's been some time since I have posted...and I do not mean to be flip with the title of my new post, but you'll see, it explains where I have been.
The day after Christmas last year, I left, with great anticipation, for a month long trip to India. It was billed as a textile driven trip, with days spent in villages of the north, woodblock classes and up close and personal experiences with textile mills and museums, organized by a self-proclaimed expert researcher, Roshan Houshmand, who was more interested in shopping than the history and art of India. = She could not have been more off-base about her abilities. We spent hours and hours, and hours, and hours, driving from one place to another, brilliantly leaving the day before a kite festival started in one area, only to leave the day before a music festival in another. We would drive all day and arrive in time for dinner, only to have to leave early the next am for another day of fly-by India. What you will see here and in future posts are drive-by glimpses of a country that many say after visiting, changed their life. Well, it did indeed change mine. I arrived home desperately ill and very dismayed to have had my time abused by this organizer. Nonetheless, because I have been trained brilliantly by some of the drawing greats, I was able to cobble together a barely respectable record of my travels. As more time passes, I am remembering the wonderful sights that I will choose to remember. More to come in bits and pieces.

Catchin' The Fever

I was on my way to a meeting downtown by my preferred mode of NY transport- the bus. Yes, dreadfully slow, but always lots to see. Yesterday, passed by the Wall Street rally and literally got stuck on lower Broadway for about 10 minutes, right where it was all happening.

Now feel as if I were there, if only for a moment....

Sweet Italian Memory

There's a lot of talk in US news these days about Perugia and the appeal of American Amanda Knox. I am not writing about the trial, I am not passing judgement one way or the other. It's just that I could not help be reminded of a Sunday that I spent in Perugia a little while back. It was a blustery day, but as intrepid tourists, we forged our way through the city, into the cathedral, in and out of side streets, trying to avoid the downpours and slipping along the cobblestone. As with all of our collective memories with good times, I can remember it all as if it were yesterday. You know that Perugia is famous for its chocolate but foolishly, we did not pause to think that on a Sunday in Italy, the shops would be closed. And then, it happened. We found the only chocolate shop opened in all of Perugia. That's when my drawing stopped....

...and the sampling began.

What's Lisbon Without Fado?

Long before I arrived to this city, I was warned not to miss Fado- and to be sure, as soon as put my first steps to the cobbled roads, the haunting strings of Fado echoed up and down the hills of Lisbon. Even without understanding the new tongue that I was surrounded by, through the animated conversation, I could hear so many speaking about.. Fado. And so, it was to my great surprise and pleasure that on the Friday eve of the symposium, I set off with four new-found friends, in a crazy taxi drive to the beautiful streets of Alfama and to an evening of magical, mystical, Fado.
It lived up to its reputation and more. Stuffed into a small room, we were surrounded and embraced by the deep emotion, the smells of the kitchen, the allure of the wine and of course, the music. So close, so tangible. And then, there was the matriarch of it all- the Gypsy mama, who greeted her boys with a slap up side the head and they kissed her back in return. I was all at once intimated and fascinated by her, and when she danced with that bottle on her head, she had me. And so did this night..Thank you Deb, Sally, Frank, Norberto for making one of the very special memories, amongst many, in Lisboa.

LISBOA

I've just returned from teaching a drawing workshop at the Urban Sketchers Symposium-an exciting, invigorating assemblage of 200 people from 23 countries who descended on Lisbon, Portugal for the singular purpose of drawing on location. Music to my ears, the stuff dreams are made of, pennies from heaven, whatever other expression one could assign to a dream of yours- this was what it was like for me. Lisbon is a beautiful city. In betwixt and between the Naples Yellow buildings are tiled roofs for miles and squares, or largos, at the end of most of the cobbled streets, winding up and down hills galore. Most of these drawings are from in and around Largo Rossio, where my session took place and Largo Chiado, where I sat in with the wonderful Frank Ching and Pedro Cabral, who led us up a couple of hills, the reward of which was one of the best lunches that I had in Lisbon.