Bright Light City

...Gonna Set My Soul - Gonna Set My Soul on Fire...

The Basin in Lincoln, NH

A small patient act, from that same sun above,

once took down a glacial giant.

A small patient act, from water long ago released,

bore through the granite that stood in her way.

A small patient act, from the tiniest grain of sand,

polished the inside of this ancient bowl.

A small patient act has led me to a place as old as time,

where with soft earth beneath my feet

I bare witness to water who does simultaneously create and destroy.

Bushnell Park

Summer had begun to loosen her sweltering grip and tease at the hint of fall on this lovely Friday of Labor Day weekend. We were meandering our way from the Trumbull Kitchen up to the Bushnell Theater for this evening's performance of Wicked. Bushnell Park was quiet, but not empty. There were people and dogs playing frisbee, couples walking the paved paths and small children squealing at their delight of the ducks in the pond. Beyond its role as a city landmark, we take for granted the idea that cities would have public parks, publicly funded. More than 150 years ago, when Reverend Horace Bushnell proposed a public park that would be municipally funded it was considered absurd. Part of that absurdity was rooted in what previously occupied the space, in the mid 1800s this land included tanneries, pigsties and a dump. The other notion was that tax dollars would be diverted to pay for such a thing. A central piece of land had recently been privately purchased in New York City for use by select patrons, but certainly not a public park. Within a year, Dr. Bushnell had unanimously convinced the Hartford City Council to set aside funds and the project moved forward with a public majority vote. This park was the first in the nation to be designed, built and publicly voted on to be funded by a city. It would be close to a decade before the park would take shape. Jacob Weidenmann, a Swiss-born architect and botanist would design and build the park, modeling it after the organic curves found in nature, a modern departure from the traditional New England town square. The park has undergone numerous additions and even a major redesign in the 1940s, but still today is free and open to the public. Among the most recognizable features is the Soldiers and Sailers Arch, a Civil War memorial to the 4,000 Hartford citizens who fought for the Union in the war, including the 128 African American citizens from Hartford who served. It took a dedicated visionary to stand firm on his beliefs that providing a public place of beauty and reflection in the center of an industrialized city could have a positive impact on people's lives. Today I celebrated my American freedom by walking through Bushnell Park, I wonder what tomorrow holds?

Center City Wandering

Less than two weeks ago, the heat index hit 122, so today with the air in the mid-80s it seemed a lovely afternoon for a walk. Meandering our way from Rittenhouse Square towards the Kimmel Center for the Arts, we were among the countless others taking advantage of the cool breeze and partly cloudy skies. Making our way along Pine Street, we couldn't help but notice all the brownstone apartments serving as quiet glimpses into Philadelphia's colonial history. It can be difficult to move through a district this historic without becoming romantic about its past. In a city that pride's itself as being the "first" at, well, everything the endless markers of historic achievement tend to blend into the scenery, but today one jumped out. The Civil War Museum and Library sits conservatively on Pine Street, so much so that if not for the metal sign by the street we would have missed it. Spotting the sign forced us to look around in an effort to figure out its location. In doing so, we were forced to consider our own location. On this picturesque August afternoon, we were free to wander our way through the city in search of iced coffee all because of the efforts of those who had stood here before us. We were quite literally in the middle of the Civil War Discovery Trail, adding an interesting twist to a surprisingly thought provoking walk.

Schuylkill Banks

The Schuylkill River is a lovely walk year round. This time of year, I find early morning and early evening to be the best, as the middle of the day the sun pounds down a little too hot on the paved path for my liking. From the Rittenhouse section of Center City, head to the intersection of Locust St. and 25th St. where you will find a set of railroad tracks to cross and an entry point to the Schuylkill Banks River Walk The paved path meanders along the Schuylkill River with patches of lawn and benches for watching both the river and people run by. The river walk paved path is a little over a mile and then connects to Kelly Drive as part of the Schuylkill River Trail. You will find people fishing, jogging with strollers or out for a morning coffee with friends. Whatever you find, it will likely be within this peaceful respite tucked neatly into the center of the city. While a number of major thoroughfares, such as Walnut Street and JFK Boulevard run right above the walk, the city somehow sounds miles away.

Philly Art Walk

With the sun shining, it turned out to be the perfect morning for a group art excursion through Center City. From Pine Street, we headed along Broad Street, through city hall to PAFA's Morris Contemporary Art Gallery for Hiro Sakaguchi's "No Particular Place to Go". We made our way back through city hall and over to Rittenhouse Square to check out what was on view at the Philadelphia Art Alliance which included Robert Baines, Matthew Alden Price and Chad Curtis. Along the way, we stopped at the Fleisher/Ollman Gallery for their summer show "Introspective/Retrospective". We ended our day with a walk up to the UPenn campus to check out the Arthur Ross Gallery who was hosting the Lauren Greenfield show "Girl Culture." In the end, Sakaguchi's solo exhibition seemed to stick with me the most. You can read my review of it below.

PHILADELPHIA

HIRO SAKAGUCHI

MORRIS GALLERY (PAFA)

The loose use of childlike colors and storybook graphics in the work adorning the entryway to PAFA’s Morris Gallery enthusiastically invites viewers into Hiro Sakaguchi’s solo show “No Particular Place to Go.” Once inside, the viewer discovers that below the surface of these innocent images hides the artist’s search for perfection. Closer examination reveals that the gestural marks on each of his works contrast the painfully controlled pencil lines which form the foundation of each art piece – from prints to oil paintings to drawings directly on the wall. This quiet implication of the artist’s sophisticated intentions is made even more clear by the eraser marks left on many of the pieces, noting the lines that did not make the final cut. They appear to be left on purpose as a simple imprint of the memory of the journey the artist took to get to each piece as we see them today.

The gallery is filled with works that span the last five years. From small sketches to sloppy-style prints to large oil paintings, the thread that ties them together is the increasingly obvious truth that everything the artist is doing is deliberate. Sakaguchi’s work seems to eradicate the fine line between fantasy and reality. We see the small pencil drawing for “A Boat with Hibachi Engine” from 2009 and turn to see it realized in full scale as a sculpture on the floor behind us. So convincing is the sculpture that, for just a moment, one wonders if it might just work when the charcoal is lit.

In the enormous oil painting entitled “Great Wall” (2011) the manmade wonder divides the canvas diagonally and is instantly recognizable. There are vibrant colors and active lines all around it. Small explosions are shooting out ammunition, which look like jet planes. Each blast is coming from a variety of toy-like tanks that litter the lower right side of the canvas. The Wall appears to be protecting an isolated, rural (rather American-looking) yard complete with log cabin, picnic table, a bike leaning against a pink tree and a clothesline running behind the house. In-between those tanks are men dressed in knight’s armor, charging forward with swords drawn. They are not entirely out of place, as a large castle rises up out of the middle of the wall.

The longer you look at each piece, the more complex imagery you find. Sakaguchi’s repetitive themes of boats, planes and tanks all appear playful against his depiction of nature’s profound size and strength. In an image that references Niagara Falls, complete with rainbow, an enormous bear is “fishing” for planes. These aircrafts relate to the bear’s proportions and placement as though they were salmon moving upstream. The age-old theme of man versus nature is retold in Sakaguchi’s work from the point of view of man’s futile efforts to conquer nature, whether by land, sea or air.

One might assume that Sakaguchi’s hybrid dreamscapes are rooted in his own hybrid world. A Japanese native, he came to Philadelphia to earn his BFA from UArts in 1993 and then his MFA from PAFA in 1996. While this exhibition is part of the gallery’s “Emerging Artists Series,” don’t let the misnomer lead you astray. Sakaguchi has consistently had solo shows, exhibiting internationally for more than a decade. He also has work in numerous collections, including the Philadelphia Museum of Art. On view until August 28^th, this solo show allows the viewer to gain a snapshot of the work of a prolific artist caught between as many worlds as he, himself, can possibly imagine.

Baltimore's Inner Harbor

With a bright sky and warm air, we set out along Baltimore's Inner Harbor. We meandered our way along the docks and cut across South Caroline Street to Lancaster Street, so we could walk along the small inlet up to Katyn Circle. The night before, every inch of this area had been packed with boisterous crowds looking for Saturday night entertainment. On this Sunday afternoon, it was far more quiet. In this frenzied urban playground, saturated with restaurants, clubs, museums and attractions; we had found a peaceful moment where the only sounds came from the water lapping up against the moored boats and the city rested before it began another week.

Settlers Bay

I can remember sitting on a plane eight months ago, leaving the Anchorage airport and thinking I would never visit Alaska again. It had been a once in a lifetime trip and I couldn't imagine what reason, how or when I would possibly return. I keep forgetting how unpredictable life is. So here I am, 5,000 miles from home back in the state of Alaska. While Alaska gets a bum rap for being dark and cold much of the year, that has not been the case either time I have visited. Today it's in the 60s, the sky is clear and the sun is out for 15 hours a day. This is both warmer weather and more sun than my home state of Connecticut. This small loop became my daily routine while on this visit. The rural stereotype of Alaska is not the case in this area of Wasilla, countless cars zoom by and every inch of land is crammed with houses in this all-american subdivision. Nothing about this walk is meditative, that is until you look up. Settlers Bay is one of the many communities that sits in this mountain basin, with its ring of majestic towers high above goes on as far as the eye can see. They serve as a silent reminder of how very far from home I am and how futile the idea of the "foreseeable future" actually is .

Mystic River

The Mystic River cuts through the southeast corner of Connecticut. Barely three and a half miles long, this estuary divides the historic village of Mystic and its banks even serve as home to a Maritime Museum. I anticipated imagery that referenced this small fishing village's history. I even expected the rolling hills and enormous weeping willows we were walking along. What I did not expect was the ornate Egyptian, Greek and Gothic Architecture. From a distance it appeared to be a quiet park sitting along the river bank. Though below the stoic arch at the entrance, it became clear that Elm Grove was not a park, but a cemetery. Rather than focusing on the finality of death, this Victorian style cemetery was designed more than 155 years ago around the idea of eternal rest. The concept was based on the romantic idea of a garden burial ground where the community would gather to spend Sunday afternoons. I don't know what sort of turn out Elm Grove got a hundred years ago, but on this Friday night there were a few visitors - folks walking dogs and the occasional jogger. I suppose it is a credit to the planners who more than a century ago were looking to find a meeting place for both life and death. I, however, was more focused on what a difference such a short distance could make in the identity of a place.

Buds & Mud

A few days above freezing and the 60+ inches of snow that had crippled this area deflated. A few more and now the only remnants are the dirty lumps of snow that dot the landscape. The warm air, budding trees and gleaming mud are hinting at the oncoming change in seasons. In the last month, these sidewalks were impassable with semi-frozen slush and vicious winds thwarted even the best attempts for an afternoon walk. Today, with clear paths and inviting weather, the area seems to be beginning to stir from its long winter's nap. What a difference a day (or a few days) really makes.

Icy Puddles

I was tragically mislead. In the midst of our frigid winter, I was lured by the tease of 40 degree temperatures and decided to follow the sun on a short walk. The walk became shorter as the wind became stronger and each icy puddle became deeper. The snow that blanketed the ground still ran into rigid frozen drifts that lined the streets. The icy slush, too broad to wade around, forced me into the street which was far too narrow from the snow. Tired of fighting the violent wind, I turned back. Today, the sun was much more enjoyable from inside than from outside.

Dubai Creek

Dubai at night is much like any other city; full of people rushing from one part of their day to the next. Cabs are honking, bus brakes are screeching and restaurants are beginning to buzz with evening chatter. Aside from the sounds of call to prayer and its brief pause, I could have been rushing through New York on a busy Friday night. The buildings go up and out for as far as the eye can see, which is only amplified by every inch of their edges being covered in millions of lights. There is an indescribable energy to a place that, in less than a generation, has gone from a nomadic desert culture to what has been described as "Las Vegas on steroids". As we moved through the crowded side streets, around cars and through groups of boisterous people out for a good time, we meandered our way through the souks (or market places). We haggled for silly souvenirs until we came upon the edge of the water. The Dubai Creek is a salt water inlet and arguably one of the most historic places you can visit in the center of this emirate. Here, for just a moment, a visitor can actually get a glimpse of this trading port which has been referenced as far back as the ancient Greeks. Much like everything else in Dubai, it has now been super-sized in order to increase trade. For roughly a dollar, you can climb into one of the many abras (or water taxis) and criss-cross along the water. Here at night, somewhere in the middle of the creek, it becomes very quiet. The sound of the people and the cabs and the buses begin to fade as you finally get a slightly less obstructed view of this historic treasure.

The Arabian Gulf

Sharjah is a coastal area situated on the Arabian Gulf. Traveling throughout the United Arab Emirates as an American was a wonderful experience. The people were kind and accommodating, until we asked to see the beach - then they were perplexed. It is, after all, winter and the coldest time of the year. While the breeze was nearly a wind, the sun was shining and the air was in the 70s. Of course this is all about perspective, as the temperature in the summer will easily be double this, so 70 is down right chilly. Wandering back and forth along this quarter mile stretch, I could have been walking the beach at home. Aside from the very large Russian tourists in very tiny bathing suits, the waves crashing could have been from any of the walks in this blog. The vast waters before me served only to make the world a little bit smaller.

Sharjah Art Museum

I have just traveled from an area crippled by winter's snowy grip to a land of endless sun. An opportunity to show my work alongside other international artists at the 29th Annual Emirates Fine Art Society Juried Exhibit has brought me to the other side of the globe. The path between the Sharjah Art Museum and our hotel has now become mindless. The first time I walked it, the city streets seemed foreign and overwhelming, I wondered how many times I would get turned around. Now it is just the path we take to and from setting up at the museum. How can something so foreign quickly become so familiar? Sharjah is considered a cultural center in the United Arab Emirates. The buildings have an old world quality, but few are much older than I am, so there is a bit of a gray area between where the culture truly is and where the image of the culture begins. There are flashes of this quasi-Epcot Center-esque feeling when you find out many of these buildings are a facade. So what is true? The fact that the warmth of the sun is only out-shined by the warmth of the people is true. The images I carried with me here of the middle east are not true of this country. It is true that under this constitutional monarchy all people are considered equals, affording women the rights I simply assumed they were denied. Though above all else, the sacredness of hospitality seems to be the greatest truth here, within and between these buildings which I now travel through.