Friday, June 19, 2015

The Commitment to Create

"The commitment to create is the only great love in the creative life..." 

 To live the creative life requires commitment. The same commitment it takes dealing with any life relationship such as marriage, education or career. A life path with a right brain focus is not an easy road to travel, it carries the same intense assignment of responsibility as any vocation. 

 Creative obsession is as serious a life choice as any other, but it is a life choice without the option or tolerance to be put aside after eight hours. Creative obsession lives within. It never rests nor takes a break. To live a life committed to creativity is not understood by most and therein lies the challenge for the individual born to this existence. A writer must write today, tomorrow and always. A visual artist must create art constantly. The creatively obsessed spend time thinking, pondering and internally visualizing what lives within. The challenge comes reconciling one central issue within the creative brain. The need to be successful

. Success is not an alien concept. It is a supposition all humanity is wired to wish for in life. Not just in the environment of this society, but worldwide. Longing for a successful life is not a bad thing and levels of success are measured differently. For example, a vocalist may consider success the ability to finally conquer a difficult aria, the instrumentalist who completes an intense improvisation

The  idea, concept and execution these levels of success are a departure from someone who considers success dinner with the boss, a hefty end-of-year bonus or a six figure annual salary. It is the space between these two considerations of success a creative existence has difficulty navigating. The worth of the creative existence is often called into question by those who rely heavily on the left side of the brain.

 If one needs to retain a lawyer, go to a doctor, or get one’s car repaired the price of these needs is set by the person who made the choice to study, practice and provide the service. Making the decision to create a painting or compose a symphony and placing a monetary value on that creation is not looked at or accepted in the same way.

 The worth of a painter or a painting is sometimes times tied directly to wether or not the artist is still alive. It may also relate to gender, race, or sexual orientation. The thinking person would not consider a successful secretary one who was no longer living nor would they dismiss buying shoes from a sales clerk merely because of their gender.

 Artists must do the things all people do live,breathe and procreate. The artist loves above all things the art. The commitment to create is the only great love in the creative life, not an individual or material possession. Love requiring one to give at all times, totally and without thought. A demanding love of incredible highs and devistativing lows, but one the artist cannot survive without. 

Thursday, February 16, 2012


When I arrived in New Mexico I had never seen the moon. I don’t mean never in my life had I raised my eyes to the sky and noticed there was a brightly lit orb hanging there every evening, what I mean is I had never seen it.

In the mountains of Abiquiu the moon lives a special life. It shines brightly over my little house and sometimes I can truly believe it shines only for me. I think it was the night I went on a solitary evening hike the idea came to me. Shrouded in moonglow I made a decision I needed to visit the moon,

The only question needing to be answered at this point is what mode of transportation does one take to get to the object of one’s desire. I call it the object of my desire, because that is just what the moon became. I began to think of it constantly. Making detailed computations of distance and landscape. Atmosphere and wardrobe concerns filled two spiral notebooks, front and back of each page. I think I had become obsessive.

A year and six months of intense planning went by. I was mentally ready to travel to the moon. A lunar explorer, a pioneer, a woman on the edge. I rushed to Best Buys to procure a new camera, never mind the salesmen looked aghast when I said I needed it to be able to function in a atmosphere of electrostatically-levitated dust. He looked at me quzzically, moon dust my friend.....moon dust. I chose a small digital canon I knew would fit neatly in the pocket of my self designed black fitted moon suit.

What does one wear on a outing to moon? I had no idea if I would be greeted by moon beings needing to know what lunar explorers were wearing this season, so I had to design carefully. Moon boots should definitely be over the knee and flat. They would also need some traction. I didn’t want to get mired down in the moon dust, or maybe I did. I needed custom made ones to get the right height. I finally found the right company, Lil Wayne used them for his moon attire. My boots secured it was on to my moon wardrobe.

My dream space suit is equipped with formfitting black leggings adored with swirling silver stars to match my surroundings. Each star applique is in fact a super high tech heating system to keep my body warm when I need it and cool when appropriate. A white and silver high necked sweater with a built in tight fitting hood to hug my head. The hood is equipped with head phones attached to a tiny MP3 clipped to the neck. Every song ever recorded with the word “moon” in it is downloaded for my listening and inspirational pleasure. A six inch insulated moon jacket with 69 insulated zipper compartments for sketch books, lip gloss, eyeliner, mascara, camera, and various other necessities. A white moon helmet with super radiation replant black vision portals. Laying out my moon attire and matching moon undies, I was ready.

My transportation is arranged. Who knew it was so simple. All it took was wanting to go. Wanting to go so badly I became intentional, purposeful and believing. I picked the day. I picked the time. Dressed in my amazing moon suit, I am now on my way. Meeting angels helping me along to my destination, admiring my moon suit and posing for photos. As I listen to “Moon River”, “Dancing in the Moonlight” , “Under the Moon of Love” and more never ending moon songs I can only look up towards my new destination, brilliantly whole and full in the sky, the moon of my dreams.

Monday, January 9, 2012

New Years in Charlotte North Carolina

It is now 2012, I have a feeling of wonder and excitement for this year I have not felt in recent memory. No tolerance for any painful relationships or negative people. My world is filled with happiness and light, I wouldn't have it any other way. Join the party. This is a personal statement of my goals for the time ahead of me. If my New Year's celebration was any indication, 2012 will be all my heart desires. I spent the time approaching New Year's eve in Charlotte North Carolina.

Charlotte is called the "Queen City". Named after the Queen Consort of King George III. In case you don't remember your American history, King George III was King of England during the Revolutionary War and spent a huge part of his life after the war depressed over "...losing the colonies...". Queen Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, her complete title, gave good King George III 13 living children. Now that is a Queen!

Charlotte is angular and beautifully regal. The weather is mild, tropical and balmy. Downtown is charming with amazing restaurants and fantastic public art. The largest metropolitan area in North Carolina, this elegant city was home to me for a week of regal wonder. I ate oysters and champagne for breakfast, chardonnay and hot wings at 2 and hung out at the Dean and Deluca wine bar after a major shopping swipe at Neiman Marcus. Was it over? Not by a long shot, remember Charlotte is the Queen City! Everywhere I went that southern charm and hospitality showed itself.
Every city I have ever visited has it's own distinct flavor and the Queen City is no different. The architecture of Charlotte is quite unique. The lines of the city are all about angles. Angles purposefully moving your eye from one place to another leaving you feeling inclusionary in the long ago court of Queen Charlotte. Since I have a distinct feeling in my past life I was regal and hung out with nothing but royal ladies and gentlemen,Charlotte was the perfect venue for my entrance into 2012.

What a treat to indulge all of my little girl princess fantasies. Every girl in Charlotte owns her own crown. Tiaras are all the rage and now I have my own. If you don't own one, let me tell you it does wonders for your self esteem to place a crown on your head, instead of the ball dropping at midnight in Charlotte, the crown rises.

I perused the art of Romere Bearden at the The Mint Museum. Later over raspberry and Mango Martini's the conversation was all about Bearden's influences from Picasso and Modigliani and whether the Charlotte Hornets would beat the Miami Heat! What more could the artist in my soul ask for?

I live in Santa Fe, home to many astounding women both contemporary and historical. Combining the influence of the artistic, business, political and literary women it has been my pleasure to meet and become aquainted with in Santa Fe with a lovely diamond crown is something no girl could possibly resist.

Happy 12 I wish everyone who reads my words the best most spiritually inspired year of your life!

Thursday, December 22, 2011


The city of Santa Fe goes all out when it comes to protecting and promoting the welfare and well being of it's youth. Children and education are tops among the many charitable institutions in the City Different. The Boys and Girls Clubs is a place where any kid in Santa Fe can feel safe and protected.

The Boys and Girls Clubs of Santa Fe held their annual Christmas Gala at Bishops Lodge on December 21. I was so privileged to be able to attend this event for such a worthy Santa Fe cause. Bishops Lodge is a breathtaking venue just a few minutes from the downtown plaza. A resort and spa, it is named for French missionary priest Jean Baptiste Lamy, the first Archbishop of Santa Fe. The property consists of buildings nestled in a hilltop. At Christmas the pink hued adobe at dusk topped with traditional iluminaria is an awe inspiring sight.
The celebration was all about the children of Santa Fe. There was the inevitable appearance of Santa and his place of honor giving out toys and bags of delicious candy. This is Santa's season and if he decides to make the party you can bet all attention is generally on him, this year the most important person in the room was Congressional Medal of Honor winner Army Sgt. 1st Class Leroy A. Petry.

Sgt. Petry, an alumnus of the Boys and Girls clubs of Santa Fe is the City Different's very own hometown hero. While in Afghanistan Sgt. Petry lost his hand in a heroic grenade incident. He now sports an amazing bionic hand which I was privileged to shake. The feel of his hand is a touch I will never forget.

Afghanistan is a word to most of us. Of course if you have a loved one in the military you are more intimately acquainted with events in that far away country but I would venture to guess many people would be hard pressed to find it on a map and only associate it with newspaper headlines and a CNN crawler. Sgt. Petry makes it real. A handsome and devoted family man, its hard to imagine the smiling face
that I see tonight with the pain, terror and trauma he and his family have endured.
He wears a dark blue uniform jacket covered with honors and medals. The Purple Heart hangs closely about his neck. So obviously a hero.

When I met Sgt. Petry I saw the future of New Mexico. Something very genuine and caring exudes from him. There is a special aura about him that is evident to anyone who approaches him. I saw a man of intense integrity and honesty. A man who cares deeply about his family, his state, and his country. The ball room of Bishops Lodge was decorated in the rich red hues of Chistmas. There were political dignitaries and contributors everywhere you looked and the dinner was scrumptious.

I sat with Sgt Petry's family and they told stories of a brother whom they obviously admire. They spoke of his sense of humor and his bravery. His mother's eyes as he received his Senate Proclamation were full of the pride of a mother, a look that is without question something every mother wants to have looking at her son.

Sculptor George Rivera, Pojoaque Pueblo Governor, is donating his time to create an interactive eight foot bronze of Sgt Petry that will eventually stand in Santa Fe.
It was a night of inspiration, pride, mariachis, and interesting people. I even got sit on Santa's lap!

Thursday, December 8, 2011


I spent Thanksgiving in the anonymous atmosphere of a huge metropolis. The ability to walk through Times Square and be overwhelmed with the sensory perception of one's own skin with a million different colored lights reflected on the surface. The Godiva Store sells white chocolate covered strawberries in glittery paper cones while a street vendor hawks ten dollar handbags outside. This is the tasty essence of New York.

Broadway theatres, bistro chairs and tables in the middle of the street. You can have you photo taken with Mickey Mouse, Elmo, or a silver skinned Micheal Jackson. My eyes are overloaded with the eclectic beauty of it all. The artist in me wants to take the colors and embed them into my brain to be recreated later. Photos are useless; you must commit this scene to your memory and make the energy a part of your life.

A holiday star is suspended high overhead on an avenue of stores glittering with diamonds, five dollar pashmina scarves and LV knockoffs. I love New York. It is the Grand Canyon made of cement and steel. It is every imaginable type of food and dirty water hot dogs and pretzels on the street. Carmines for Italian, Rue 57 for French, and Virgil's BBQ and a seats at Ruby Foos for uptown Chinese that is so worth the wait!

Music is everywhere. The Carlyle, Smoke, Dizzy's Club Coca Cola at Lincoln Center or the steps of any subway station. I hear the music I love lit by a million glittering lights all over this amazing city. My rooms are on the 53rd floor on 57th. Across the street is new construction...this building will be 98 stories when it is done. I can look out my bedroom and see the work in progress. It will be fun to measure how much higher this new face of the canyon wall will be when I make my next appearance. I feel suspended in space. At dusk the lights begin to appear out of nowhere and below me, the turquoise waves of a roof top swimming pool are illuminated reminding me of the City Different. Morning finds me having a spinach and Swiss omelet at La Parisiene,meetings to feel out the William Morris Agency and a cab ride to see Alfred Stiegliz at MOMA.

Santa Fe has followed me here, just to subtly remind me of where I "LIVE WORK and PLAY". Over a dirty martini at Trattoria Dell Arte across the street from Carnegie Hall I meet the vibrant and beautiful Marguerite La Corte, Global Trend Tracker and Product Anthropologist. She tells me her Santa Fe story. In the City Different she purchased an Indian Corn Necklace. Enthralled with the vibrant colors of the corn, she lovingly transported this distinct local favorite home and stored it in her jewelry box amid her Cartier and Tiffany treasures. When it was time for the Corn Necklace to make it's New York debut, she discovered the necklace had deposited worms that were now living amid the diamonds. Taking her new inhabitants in stride she laughed, "...just goes to show you, don't wear food, wear diamonds...!"

In Princeton I am invited to a private concert. Among an elite gathering of Jazz enthusiasts, in the comfort of an absolutely awesome home filled with contemporary art, rare books, sculpture and an incredible jazz trio playing the music I love, I met Dr. Ferris Olin. Dr Olin is the director of the Institute for Women & Art at Rutgers University. When she found out where I LIVE WORK and PLAY, she lost no time in chatting me up about her daughter who is the bartender at the Rouge Cat. She has been coming to Santa Fe for years. It seems there is a fabulous house guest in my future!

Lunch with my Facebook Bestie, a professor of Egyptian History who lives in Bonn Germany. She is in New York with her charming 2 year old daughter doing some work at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. On turkey day I am with my children. We cook everything even remotely associated with Thanksgiving and pass out comatose with food overload! Let me not forget a casual and flavorful dinner with my editor Stasia de Marco. She is half of one of Philadelphia's power couples and treated me to a great fish dinner freshly caught on Thanksgiving Day. Sixteen days of east coast wonder with a bit of Santa Fe flavor sprinkled throughout.

Monday, October 3, 2011


Political protest is one of the oldest ways for people of any country to come together and express disagreement with government policies and programs. Since the civil rights movement and the Vietnam War, there have been a few small grown swells of protest. Notice civil protest has once again come to light. This time in the face of growing economic dissatisfaction with the legislative branch of the government and corporate structure of the American economic system. The people are poised to directly change the economic policy.
From the early 16th century Protestant Rebellion to the French and American Revolutions, there have been times when oppressive governmental decisions have become too much for the populace to bear.
Picket signs are something not been seen in America for a long time. Whether it be due to ambivalence on the part of Americans comfortable with their lifestyle or glued to reality TV, this basic American tradition has been asleep.
The Wall Street protests against corporate greed and over zealous police intervention that affect the economic base of the country has inspired national action and attention. Starting with college students, as is traditional in America, this protest resulted in the arrest of 700 people on the Brooklyn Bridge. Americans are frustrated knowing corporate America continues to bonus itself while oppresive tax policies close small businesses and multi national super banks refuse to lend a hand to help everyday Americans keep their homes and lifestyles intact. Political protest rallies are being held in Philadelphia, San Francisco and Santa Fe.

We are a country whose roots remain deeply and firmly tied to helping not the individual but the whole. This is start of the 2012 political conversation.

Monday, September 5, 2011


The dream of a little girl...wide eyes, holding her fathers hand.
Days spent gazing from plane windows, train windows, car windows and apartments in strange lands, the dream always there, itching to be brought forward. Agitating to be as free as a bird who flies.
What is this concept of freedom? It means much to different people. I have found to the Shuswap and other tribes of Canada it means freedom to keep their ancestral lands from developers who would claim it for the gods of oil, and freedom to remain a sovereign nation honoring the words spoken to them, not words written later by forien governments.
To Native American people it means freedom to live on thier land and teach and preserve their art and culture for future generations. To never forget who they are.

To African Americans it means equality and acceptance in a place they were forced to come to, build, and maintain but were denied a seat at the decision making table. Even now African Americans are challenged by those who feel ownership to a country they do not own.
My personal be sheltered by love and peace. Able to be creative, believed in and supported by that love.
These are dreams I believe all people hold close, honor, respect, communication, great meals, fantastic friends. and freedom from stress. This is what true wealth is.
Over the past week I had the distinct opportunity to return to my home, my native land, and spend time with my tribe for a special celebration of these core values that I hold dear. The opening of the Martin Luther King Memorial in Washington DC.

A memorial to one mans search to identify and restore basic human freedom for all people.In his own words"..if we are to have peace on earth, our loyalties must become ecumenical rather than sectional. Our loyalties must transcend our race, our tribe, our class, and our nation; this means we must develop a world perspective..."

From his educational and fraternal roots to the Nobel prize his was a life lead as a testament to the values of love, honor, respect, and communication.
A man who never denied who he was, glorified his cultural roots and shaped them into something special for the good of all people.
I dream to hold my head high, unable and unwilling to deny my heritage, honor my ancestors who traversed the rages of hatred and hell and dared to dream of a life where I am possible.

"...the ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy..."

I dream to live my life with integrity and honor as my father taught me and to impart this to my children no matter how difficult that teaching may be.
In my life I have been to my personal mountain top. I have been to the Lincoln Memorial, I heard a man say " I have a dream", seen evolution continue to manifest that dream. I watched mesmerized as he accepted the Nobel Prize for Peace. I stood outside Ebenezer Baptist Church holding my fathers hand as his body was taken to its final rest, simply...on the back of a wagon drawn by mules.
Now I have stood holding my child's hand and looked at this lasting monument to a unique and special human being.
"...out of a mountain of despair...a stone of hope..."