feasting

i love food. love it. always have, always will. it's not just the eating - though that's pretty spectacular - it's everything associated with a meal. i love the preparation: mulling over recipes, shopping for all the right ingredients, visiting the vegetable market with tote in hand, checking the leafy freshness of spinach, squeezing tomatoes, picking through bulbs of red onions... i LOVE the cooking process. i love rolling up my sleeves and getting my hands caked in everything from flour to oil to spices and the occasional meat juices. i love the sounds of cooking: the quick sizzle of oil on a hot pan, the gentle murmur that crescendoes into aggressive bubbling of boiling water, the comforting grind of the pepper mill. and the smells - oh, the SMELLS! i love knowing a dish so well that you know, intuitively by the smell, whether it's ready or not. i love setting the table and selecting the right serving dishes, the clink of silverware and pristine white of my matching plates.

most of all, i love the company and conversations that surround meals. i was raised in a family where we always had dinner together, no matter how busy everyone was. it was always around the dinner table, never in front of the television. it was an unwritten rule in our home that dinner was always enjoyed with loved ones and served with conversation.

i love that my parents instilled that value in me, and i suppose that's where my inclination for hospitality arose. it's hard to think of a good meal without the company of good friends. strangers may sit down at the table, but rarely do you leave a table without having built some rapport. it's no wonder that in traditional cultures, deals are made and promises sworn at the banquet table.

i was reminded of this when mako was in town. during our trip to nanjing, the chair of the international program at nanjing arts institute invited our group for a meal. the restaurant was tucked down an inconspicuous lane, hid in an ultra-modern building sleek with glass and steel. the restaurant served chinese cuisine though it was decked out in uber-luxe faux-art-deco-meets-victorian-era decor. imagine plush purple velvet lounge couches with giant chandeliers. and four birthday balloons drooping on one wall, forlornly out of place.

the food was served with great attention to detail and attempts at artistic flair: sweet and sour chicken served in half a pineapple emflambe, succulent chicken deboned (a rarity in china), and an interesting combination of a meat pastry with a sweet sesame dessert soup, to name a few memorable dishes. but it wasn't the food that stuck out to me, delicious as it was. what stayed with me from that luncheon was the courtesy displayed, the respect and mutual admiration exhibited by the parties involved.

working in the chinese art world for a few years has taught me several invaluable skills including the art of holding my liquor at dinner parties. i've had to make and accept many a toast from museum officials, distinguished guests, artists, etc., and when the chinese toast, a sign of respect is to empty your glass. no one ever gets embarrassingly sloshed from such behavior, but most do turn lobster red after a meal (thanks to that asian drinking gene most of us have inherited....).

this particular luncheon was no different. there is an art involved, a dance i've had to learn to perfect (and am still perfecting). always aim your glass low - it's a sign of respect. a toast always ends up like some sort of glassware limbo, trying to outdo each other in how low you clink your glass. the host usually starts with some general toast to everyone, and then begins to singularly toast the guests in some sort of hierarchy (usually working from most important, or most essential to the event at hand, down). the toasts are scattered throughout the meal, so you wait and watch. and then it's your turn to reciprocate, and the polite thing is to toast those who've toasted to you, in a similar order. and of course, you can toast anyone else you want as well - it's a form of bestowing favor and respect. but you also have to gauge the toastee's glass. since they will want to honor you by emptying their glass, i try to time my toast with the level of their drink - too high and it may end messy, too low and it's not much of a toast.

after plenty of toasting and kind words at the luncheon, we left the table with relationships established and agreements made. though no papers were signed, no official partnerships were formed, there was an air of understanding that there will be future collaborations and a level of trust had been reached.

food builds community and was meant to be enjoyed in community. every feast we indulge in points to a perfect, beautiful feast we will enjoy for all of eternity. it's not only the food we'll enjoy but perfect, beautiful fellowship and unbroken communion with God and one another. what a lovely thing. :)

one last note - two recent publications on this theme of food worth savoring:

- The Spirit of Food: i found out about this book through the Image Journal's newsletter. from organic farms to kosher kitchens, 34 writers share stories and recipes about the ways food draw us closer to community, God and creation. i've already placed an order and can't wait to read it!

- Saveur Magazine: 25 Greatest Meals Ever: 25 food writers share their most memorable food experiences, including some recipes.


cups of coffee: 1 + 2 green tea

mood:  o joy!

enlarge my heart

this has been a most amazing week - busy, to say the least, but in a wonderful, fulfilling, mind-blowing-cup-overflowing sort of way.

we are so honored to host mako fujimura this week and to hold his first exhibition in china (opening this afternoon!). things are blessedly under control, which explains why i'm able to take time to blog on the morning of an exhibit opening. :)

last night was a wonderful dinner with mako and members of our arts group - feast for the stomach and the soul. as an artist, writer and creative catalyst, mako is a strong advocate for arts education. one member of our group asked, "what if you're passionate about the arts and creating art but frankly, you're just not really good?" mako had an honest and thoughtful response - he pointed out the purpose of educating one in the arts may not necessarily be to cultivate oneself to be the next picasso or shakespeare. mako emphasized that art enlarges our capacity for empathy, that's why the arts are important. when you watch a play, you can't help but step inside the characters' lives and feel their joys and sorrows. when you hear a beautiful piece of music, your heart automatically rises and falls with the notes and you transcend your circumstances to be part of something grander and universal. when you look at at a work of art, you catch beauty and truth that may either affirm or question certain assumptions you hold about the world as you know it. art causes you to step outside of yourself, even if briefly, and simultaneously reminds you of your humanity and the greater humanity in which you participate.

as a writer, empathy has always been one of the virtues i strive to encompass in my work. i suppose that's why i chose to study journalism at university: i was attracted by the imperative responsibility of sharing the stories of others. every person carries in them a beautiful narrative, and all these stories weave together as a bigger, glorious narrative. we were created to be storytellers and storybearers - i think in sharing stories, we better understand ourselves and the world we inhabit.

but we, selfish creatures that we are, long for greatness. we want to make a name for ourselves, for our art to be immortal. we forget that we ourselves were meant to be eternal beings. we turn inward and riddled with doubts and fears, we strive to protect and promote ourselves. yet we were not made for greatness - we were made for grandeur. we were meant for a world more brilliant and beautiful than the world we know, we are more than what can be contained by this frame of flesh and bones. we were meant to worship something grander than ourselves.

art can remind us of that. art carries us beyond tangible, visible realities to a greater reality we sense but are often too timid or scared to touch. art expands our imagination and enlarges our heart to gasp and grasp at the Mystery. and when that happens, we can't help but forget ourselves.


cups of coffee: 1

mood: mind percolating like a coffeemaker on overtime

art! art! art!

in the midst of the biggest week in shanghai's art scene. a few snapshots:

our booth at shanghai art fair (come visit us in the ceramics hall!)

ready for the preview opening

sh contemporary 2010 - vernissage was tonight, just got home about half an hour ago. this year's show is much smaller than previous years and (in my humble opinion) not terribly impressive.

fun giant floor-to-ceiling installation made from twisty balloons

friend viv admiring this creative installation of shoe tongues nailed together

whew! and we're halfway through...

as this week wraps up, i'm uber excited for next week as our gallery hosts... MAKO FUJIMURA! he is one of my personal heroes, and i'm so honored that we get to host him for a week AND show his first exhibition in china.

weeks like this, i LOVE my job.


cups of coffee: 2 + 2 green tea

mood:  busy but so, so thankful

knowing the language

i've been pondering this passage since i read it yesterday from frederick buechner's listening to your life:

"English-speaking tourists abroad are inclined to believe that if only they speak English loudly and distinctly and slowly enough, the natives will know what's being said even though they don't understand a single word of the language.
Preachers often make the same mistake. They believe that if only they speak the ancient verities loudly and distinctly and slowly enough, their congregations will understand them.
Unfortunately, the only language people really understand is their own language, and unless preachers are prepared to translate the ancient verities into it, they might as well save their breath."

cups of coffee: 2

mood: fare thee well, august....

uneasy contradiction

hold out, shanghai, 2004

edward burtynsky

 

a friend recently introduced me to the work of edward burtynsky, a photographer who captures images of industry and development, making landscapes of urbanization and the progress of man his subject matter.

in his artist's statement, he quotes:

"These images are meant as metaphors to the dilemma of our modern existence; they search for a dialogue between attraction and repulsion, seduction and fear. We are drawn by desire - a chance at good living, yet we are consciously or unconsciously aware that the world is suffering for our success. Our dependence on nature to provide the materials for our consumption and our concern for the health of our planet sets us into an uneasy contradiction. For me, these images function as reflecting pools of our times."

uneasy contradiction. how true. i think that's one of the pulls urban life has for me - this state of living in uneasy contradiction. i am daily faced with decisions on how to consume or not consume. economic and social disparities stare me in the eye and force me to respond in some way - i can choose to do nothing, of course, but even in doing nothing i am choosing a way of responding.

living in the tension is something i enjoy - i don't like black-and-white cookie-cutter answers. life seems to be too complex for formulaic solutions. living in uneasy contradiction forces us to question, ponder, and really do the work of wrestling with issues and sifting through the possibilities of our involvement.

somewhere along the way, we (particularly as americans) have come to value comfort above all else. but comfort isn't the goal - contentment is. a life of discomfort may still yield a heart of contentment and fruits of joy, perhaps more so than a life of comfort.


cups of coffee:  1


mood:  breathe....

*kiss kiss*

this is hilarious. it's comforting to know i'm not the only who's made many a social faux pas in the art world. i couldn't get used to the air kisses on each cheek at first, but now i love it. yes, there is the potential for the gesture to carry a certain air of snobbery and snootiness, but give me a peck on the cheek over a handshake any day.

the dutch, however, often throw me off with their three kisses..."left, right, left".... i accidentally almost planted a smack on a guy's neck once....


ARTnews

A new book on the fine art of diplomacy

by Jenny Brown

"One kiss, two kisses, or three?" asks Wendy Olsoff, co-owner of P.P.O.W. gallery in Chelsea. "One is never sure." Knowing the appropriate number of air kisses is a common conundrum among art-world socializers, and one of many addressed in a little black pamphlet about behaving and misbehaving in today's art scene. In I Like Your Work: Art and Etiquette, recently released by Paper Monument magazine, 38 artists, curators, dealers, and critics talk about the stresses and missteps they've encountered in their careers—and offer some tips on how to avoid them. Painter Roger White notes it is protocol for artists to dress like artists (that is, with fashionable slovenliness) but gauche when they play look-alike with their work. "A stripe painter may not wear stripes," he says. An anonymous contributor recalls being cornered by two visitors at the NADA art fair in Miami and being told, "This is not your best work." The recommendation: wait until you're a safe distance away from the artist and dealer before making foul remarks about a show—otherwise known as the "six-block rule." To those who haven't coordinated their air-kiss greeting, or their comments, multimedia artist David Levine gives a comforting pat on the back: "Remember," he says, "everyone is totally freaked out all the time."

ha ha, "everyone is totally freaked out all the time." comforting.

cups of coffee: 1 + 2 green tea

mood:  happy happy, busy busy

laughter

"Laughter is the celebration of incongruity." - Brennan Manning, Souvenirs of Solitude

last night was a most interesting experience dining at pearl's home (palace, i should say). there were many moments i wanted to bust out laughing at the absurdity of it all, but discreetly held my guffaws in check out of propriety. it was larger than life - everything from her gallery to her loft (which was pretty much another gallery) to the 52-foot dining table decorated with porcelain dragons and red plumage to the guests who were all involved in the art world in some way and made sure you knew it. the very fact they all took themselves so seriously made it tempting not to take them seriously.

upon arrival, my date and i were ushered by the doorman to her gallery, located on an entire floor of the building. we were welcomed by servers with glasses of champagne staggered among the clusters of guests decked out in black and white chic. dinner was then announced, and we were directed to take the elevators up to her residence. entering her apartment was like entering a museum/temple - a giant statue of buddha sat demurely in the foyer. the dining table was amazing - a cornucopia for the senses. tall vases filled with feathers and flowers towered above porcelain dragon candlesticks; red and gold chandeliers fashioned from chinese brocade clasps hung heavy in the dim light. at each seat, a pair of porcelain hands extended from a small plate, holding the name card of the guest. the hands were designed specifically as place settings, and the jade dishware fit perfectly on the immaculately white palms. beneath the porcelain place settings were place mats sewn from peacock feathers. it was like dining in wonderland.

servers in matching white, stylish mao jackets served each course quietly and quickly. the courses were simple - sweet and sour pork ribs, chinese spinach, beef and carrot soup, a heavenly fish with ginger and scallions that flaked nicely with the fork. dessert was a dish of almond soup. and free flow of wine and champagne - my glass never reached empty.

conversations were nothing short of interesting - i sat between a former general manager of kempinski hotels and a former sotheby's employee who started his own art consulting company. our hostess has the habit of playing musical chairs during meals, jumping up and down and grabbing guests by the hand to swap their seats. she is the epitome of a networker. so by the end of the evening, everyone was switched around and you had the opportunity to meet a fair number of guests. other guests i talked with included a young chinese-british shoe designer who is positioned as the "jimmy choo" of china, and lorenz h., indubitably THE most successful gallery owner and art dealer in china.

i finally did meet our illustrious hostess towards the end of the evening and found out that she remembered me from a mutual friend who had introduced us via email, which is why i think i ended up on the invite list. it's all still very strange to me. she was genuinely friendly and curious about our gallery and what we do, and she was much easier to talk with than i'd imagined.

i really wanted to take pictures of the apartment, but didn't do so for fear of appearing gauche. many of the guests were dinner veterans, and i didn't want to be the gawking spectator snapping away with my iphone camera.

what struck me the most about pearl's decor was the fantastical whimsy of it all. the art world can be oh-so-serious, and though there was more than a touch of that among the guests last night, the ambiance of her place was more playful than pretentious. even the bathrooms were secretly tucked away behind wall panels, and you had to know just where to look for the doorknob. 

the randomness of last night makes me laugh. the randomness of life makes me laugh. reading manning's souvenirs of soltitude today, i reflected on the immense power of God and how He makes light what we make heavy. He who has conquered Death lifts the very burdens that wear us down. yet most of us continue to live as if we are merely trying to survive - drudgery instead of joy, despair instead of hope. i love this passage where manning talks about the naming of isaac:

In seminary I was taught that Isaac (Yishaq in Hebrew) means "laughter." Abraham and his wife, Sarah, gave up on God's promise of a child. When Sarah was told that she would soon be pregnant, she laughed in disbelief. But God had the last laugh. A son was born to them in their old age, and the human laughter of despair turned into the Father's laughter of love. They named their son Isaac - laughter - for he was a sign of the triumph of God's levity over man's gravity.

"The triumph of God's levity over man's gravity." well put.

may i never forget the triumph of His levity, and how that very levity frees me to laugh and marvel at the works of His hands with endless awe.

cups of coffee: 1 coffee-ish drink

mood:  excited