The Not-So-New Competitive Sport

It has come to my attention that not all bloggers are created equally. I noticed this quickly after surfing blog posts for, well, what was out there in blogging land. And so I wondered if it's just me or is there a real competive feel to the nature of the blog site? I found myself commenting, "Ooh, that's a lovely color scheme" at first...wait, look at the links of advertisers- how did she get them, and further, can I get them too? How is this person so adept at, not only creating a visually appealing site where she rests her daily opinion on, but apparently, she's also her children's track team captain, reads voraciously, has a great sense of self, cooks like an ACF Chef and has time to blog about it all!

Should we compare ourselves to those most competive, complete and well designed blog pages? Some have years of archives, have posted lists of a hundred URL's to which are subscribed to and beautifully presented with well adorned advertising, albeit in a rectangular fashion in some inconspicuous corner?I think some must have a ton of free time on their hands- How does one blogger manage to create mouthwatering foodstuff, take professional photos and write indepth content on a daily basis? Forget that the photography is flawless in pixelation, composition and content.

For me, the hook is the feeling of social connectivity and the great wisdom shared by a complete stranger- that I relate to. Sometimes it's just the awful truth of the matter that addressed, makes us all so human after all. In the end it is also that which appeals to my sense of neighborhood and trust in this person, this blogger, making me somehow akin to, a competitve soul.

Stage Right

Yumi Yamaguchi was a delightful dancer who graced the Rialto stage before her grand entrance onto New York ballet venues. Her parents would drop her and her brother off at the Rotaru Ballet studios for their many hours of classes and would return to pick them up still attired in their dark business suits, pleasantly bowing to any who might greet them.
Though she carried her weight in musculature, all one hundred and five pounds of lithe and grace with the tell-tale walk and stance of a dancer. I call it the turn-out walk; feet purposely implanting each step, yet not quite slew-footed, hips even and steady. The sign of muscle memory and training.

As ballet studios go, it was much the same as others with mother's and father's waiting in the long halls or in lobby. Little brothers would find others of their age to wander about with-
We chatted, made friends and talked about the beauty of dance through Pavel Rotaru and wife, Elwyn. There is no other technical school, with so much demanded in detail of it's trainees than the Russian school of dance. And so it was here at the Rotaru International Children's Ballet School in Atlanta, Georgia.

When I showed this photo to Yumi, she was thrilled at first. You see the colorful original Russian costumery and set design (Dragan) and this tiny little Japanese girl dancing the part of Clara- "I've been working on my turnout...that's great" she says pointing to her left boxed foot. Then sighs as she looks at her right. "But I will get it...Pavel would be happy".

The last time I spoke to her was a few years ago. She was off at school in New York, Joffrey, I think- Her linage serves her well. Pleasant and happy to know that I wanted to use her photos- Of course, I had her permission.

On Being Productive

How often has someone insisted to you, "write it down"?

There will be no bemoaning opps later if you concede to this, should-do, task.

From riding marta and taking character notes, to standing behind the old man at the grocery check-out, to involve your imagination in creative play -at that moment-in random study that might later, if not now, prove to be a stimulous to further story building. Anne Lamont's, "Bird By Bird", gives refreshing and compelling reasons to write every day- though after chapter two, I have lost interest...it's those first few chapters that have managed to sink in and the rote building exercises that follow simply lack the enthusiasm I, at first, appreciated.

But I keep to the axiom of building story lines behind an image, or series of- as I am a visual thinker- The who, what, when, where and why's of story building are only left up to your imagination. As a photographer, the images I capture almost always have been taken with a view to steal away a moment in time that lends itself to some unwritten story; perhaps to spark the study of what (or how) I would like to shape some idea. In a perfect world, this flint, if formed purposely, sparks a brain file. Impetuously I yearn to write. To feel the satisfaction of a runner's high on page with endorphins pushing me along. Unfettered.

So this is my forced blog of the day. A mental note to think, to study all of human nature- good and bad, to blend what I know and have seen, and perhaps, to make a difference in the next story that forms if not to at least provide the reader with some insight- shaped exactly so because I had the forsight- to write it down.

Creating Energy

There is just so much one can share with scattered friends and associates. Especially those artists, writers & chefs whose work in these creative fields living-to-live within time constraints and work-day demands limiting us, alas, to a fond hello at the end of an e-mail response or forward. Though we must often watch their creative works from afar, success is a lovely adaptation of creativity and this is what inspires these of us, most ardent admirers, to follow.

I have a friend who paints and lives in Ireland and although the last time we met was at Hartsfield airport between her flights back (so that she could meet my two daughters, one of whom shares her mother's namesake) I still continue to follow her work. Her mother is her best advocate and has always kept us up to date with her gallery shows all over Ireland. When photos or cards of her work show up in the mail (or e-mail) to us, I must to admit to a certain excitement and energy that once shared in this fashion, I hold onto.

Local restauranteur, Chef Nason, from the Sapphire Grill inspires tastebuds. I frequent this Savannah restaurant about 6 times a year and am always left with something resembling an organic-orgasmic delight. Yes, I have my favorite combinations, though with his fresh and seasonal menu changes, it is not with regret that my last dish does not now appear. (Please read his bio from this restaurant http://www.sapphiregrill.com/). The compilation of ingredients and combinations are challenging, new and give reason to try next the Roasted ‘Ashley Farms’ Chicken & SoubiseHeirloom Apple, Basil Pressed Bacon, ‘Drunken’ Goat Cheese & ‘Anson Mills’ Grits or the Rice Seared Tuna ‘Mignon’, Forbidden Black Rice Grits, Cornmeal Crusted Eggplant, Red Chard & Black Vinegar Emulsion. Take your pick, though it is hard, his energy and artistry come through with every bite.

Visiting friends on the Sapelo River in Townsend, GA., I happened to have the opportunity to meet a great artist and now friend, Alan Campbell. Taking his easel and paints to a nearby dock to sketch and work there, I followed along beside him with my camera, a cooler of pilsners and our tour guide, Trouble, Boykin Spaniel-extrordinaire. While Alan painted in the perfect light of that fine late summer day, I wandered around with my camera shooting lots of stills. I would occasionally convene with him to share a thought or listen to his and at the end of that fine, late summer day, now back at friends house, we shared our work and encouraged, feeling energy for energy, the evocative association of creating in some splendid surround. But to share the nuances that went into what we did, though separately, this hand holding at the end of the day by and through discussion was good enough- largely, 'enough is as good as a feast'.

In our own disciplines, we work to create what is pleasing not just selfishly, but certainly personally, something that we are proud to be responsible for...these a few of whom I have been albe to share with on some level, and when the time permits, a focus; some energetic nod which I feel as an artist, is more valuable than a blank canvas.

Soup- Good For the Writer's Soul

I have to admit that I read very early on- One of my favorite authors that made me giggle was -and still is- Maurice Sendak.
If you were fortunate to have read his Nutshell Volume of little books, you too may be familiar with (my favorite), Chicken Soup With Rice. "In January it's so nice while slipping on the sliding ice, to sip hot chicken soup with rice. Sipping once, sipping twice, sipping chicken soup with rice" Or..."In December I will be a baubled bangled Christmas Tree with soup bowls draped all over me. Merry once, Merry twice, Merry chicken soup with rice." And so it goes through the months of the year, always ending with the refrain...

Other impressions of literary associations with food combined with a childs imagination, may lead us to highly organic and sensory awakenings. Warning: If you read Tolkien's, The Hobbit, late at night, you may have found yourself in the kitchen looking for honey with warm, soft bread and butter-

Just think- what we can imagine, we can accomplish- what we create with words we crave- What can be created with food we write about in return. Though it took Sendak to evoke an image of a Christmas Tree laden with soup bowls, may we all create as vividly-