Salon Ad Hoc – follow up

Intent

On December 1st, salon Ad Hoc premiered with a successful show of watercolors and jewelry. Even before 5 pm when it was to open, people were knocking at the door wanting to see what was going on. The house was packed from 5 until almost 9 pm and, from feedback I’ve received, just about everyone had a good time.

Being most comfortable with dinner parties for 4 or 6 people, I was emotionally unprepared for the tumult of the crowd that appeared.

For most of the evening, I wandered about talking with quests and marveling at the lively conversations going on all around me. It was rewarding to see how people from different networks mixed so easily.

   Virgil, Marianna and Me (r to l)

At the end of the evening, after everyone had left, I sat in the front room with the lights dimmed, and listened to the still echoing party chatter. Later, when I went to bed, I questioned if I would do another salon. It was way outside of my comfort zone.

Since then, I have continued to evaluate my experience and decided, yes! I’ll have another salon. I think it will be in February when everyone will have a touch of cabin-fever and will be looking for something to do.

Tips for Throwing a Salon

  1. Have a clear idea of the theme for the event.
  2. Make a list of things to do and things needed.
    The only way I could keep everything straight was through the use of lists. Lists also help manage time.
  3. Be flexible.
    What started out as an intimate event with a few guests, quickly expanded as more people became involved. I’m glad that I didn’t cling to keeping it small, otherwise I’d have missed the magic of the evening.
  4. Know when to say ENOUGH.
    It is important to know your limits and when planning veers to far away from the original plan. Because this salon was an experiment I was willing to let it grow larger than my initial comfort zone. However by the end, it was necessary for me to reign in invitations and other things.
  5. Try to have all preparations done the day before.
    For me, I wanted to have the hours before the party open and restful. That way I could go into the party relaxed and not worrying about last minute details.
  6. Mix up your guest list.
    While it was important to invite people who had a predisposition to enjoy looking at painting and jewelry, it was also important to have diversity. Combining my mailing list with Marianna’s gave us a wider audience. Also, distributing postcards to my neighbors and friends that I ran into during the day helped get the word out.
  7. Welcome people as they come in and thank them as they leave.
    This is hard to do once the party is going but it is an important personal touch. If the event is large it may be the only time that you get to meet with each and every guest.
  8. Have someone designated to help keep the wine and snacks topped off during the evening.
    I lucked out. Initially, I stayed on top of keeping the refreshments and snacks stocked but as the night progressed I got side-tracked. That was when Marianna took over and made certain that the table remained full.
  9. Let go and have fun.
    After all the work and expense of putting together a soiree, it would be shame to miss it because of fretting and worrying.

Many thanks to Jim Earley and Kathy Boesch who took pictures during the event.

 

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Salon Ad Hoc – an Experiment in Community

Virgil the Watercolorist

Tomorrow evening, from 5-9 pm, I’ll be hosting Salon Ad Hoc, an experiment in community. I’ll be featuring the watercolors of Virgil Delegard and the jewelry of Marianna Padilla. I wrote about Virgil in an earlier blog.

Salon?

Anyone who knows me knows that spontaneity is not one of my strong suits. When I have an idea I tend to mull it over for a long, bring it up in conversations, and then procrastinate. I am constantly bombarded with ideas and this process helps me determine which few are truly worth pursuing.

The salon idea, providing space to display my creative work and that of friends and acquaintances, has appealed to me for a few years. I first thought of it while reading a history of the French Impressionist painters and how they struggled to get there work before the public. The early photographers faced a similar problem in getting photography recognized as a fine art.

These revolutionary movements appealed to me because they were vibrant communities, held together by shared visions of the arts and communication. I imagined the evenings in the cafes filled with lively discussions and sharing sketches.

I wondered if it was possible to create a similar environment today employing the resources of my community.

I feel very fortunate to live in the King Field neighborhood: particularly being so close to the corner that hosts Patisserie 46, Cafe Ena, and Kings Wine Bar.  Also, my neighbors are engaging and open: often stopping and chatting when we see each other. In addition, this area of town has a concentration of people involved in creative professions and there is an inherent interest here.

I decided that winter, when everyone is indoors and looking for a reason to go someplace,  is the perfect time to try out the salon. My decision was reinforced by conversations that I had with several other people who had similar ideas but didn’t know how to start. Who knows, it may be that this is the early stage of a new King Field tradition, a season of intimate salons illuminating the cold, dark, Minneapolis winter nights.

Salon Ad Hoc?

I use Ad Hoc to mean impromptu: improvised and implying a spontaneous relaxed atmosphere. The goal being an evening where you can stop by for a few minutes or hours, look at the creative work of a local artist(s), have something to drink, snacks, and enjoy the company of friends and neighbors.

Over the months that I pulled the this event together I encountered a couple challenges, what type of hanging system for the pictures and how to light them. The most elegant solutions were also the most expensive. I would get wrapped around the axle as I pondered what to do. At some point I reminded myself that this salon as an ad hoc affair which freed me up to look for more creative and less expensive solutions. It is ad hoc and all the better for it: community rather than perfection.

How is this going to turn out? How many people will show up? How will folks get along? Will it be too crowded, too empty? Will we have enough/too much wine, cheese, crackers, etc.? Will it be what I hope that it will be?

I haven’t a clue. This is an experiment, a work in progress.

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Virgil Delegard – the Next Boomer Trend

Virgil Delegard – painter

I’ve been observing an interesting Baby Boomer trend developing: rebirth of the arts.  As we boomers retire, more and more of us are finding the freedom to turn or return to activities that give voice to our creative nature.

One example is Virgil Delegard, a friend and neighbor. When in college he majored in mathematics and minored in the fine arts. After he graduated the only avenue open to steady work, just like today, were business oriented professions. He tried his hand at architecture and then gravitated into software engineering. For thirty-some years he put aside his fine arts skills and channeled his creativity into the binary logic of software.

A couple of years ago Virgil retired and the long-buried drawing and painting habits resurfaced. He found himself taking life drawing classes to reawaken his eye-hand coordination. He then expanded his vision by taking classes in watercolor painting. These studio classes have provided him with the opportunity to develop his creative vision. At this time he spends nearly two full days working in a studio and then more time at home.

Samples of his efforts follow:

For me this painting evokes Goya and Spain.

And this one is my favorite. Its me!

Virgil is the tip of an iceberg of retired or unemployed workers that are taking new paths of self-expression that lead to self discovery and personal reward. I know others who are working in a variety of mediums: oils, sculpture in wood and stone and metal, mixed media, music, photography, and video. Not to mention dance and performance art.

We are witnessing the democratization of the arts, where almost everyone has the ability to display their creative efforts to a world-wide audience: a renaissance of personal expression. This trend has been building for some time but now with Boomers having the time to become involved it is escalating.

Once prohibitively expensive technologies for the preparation and distribution of all media have been replaced with free or inexpensive digital tools. With a smartphone camera, free photo editing apps, a free artist’s website – such as www.mnartists.org, and accounts in Facebook, Twitter, Google+, and Linked it is possible to make your creations available to 7 billion human beings. More people are living now than have lived since the beginning of humanity.

There is a down side to this. If, like me, the goal is to make a modest living from art, it is much more difficult. The competition is fierce with many talented people displaying their work. In addition, the perceived value of thoughtful, well conceived art is diminished because the common wisdom is that, “I can take a picture with my phone, so therefore I am a photographer,” or “I have a blog, thus I am writer.” It is difficult for quality to be recognized because of the torrent of content flooding the world.

A long time ago, in a writing class, at Ohio State University, in Columbus, the instructor told us, “Writing is communication and communication requires at least two people. Writing only for yourself is mental masturbation. To hone your craft you must write for at least one other person so that you can enter into a dialog.”

In this new creative world the challenge is to find an audience to participate in your efforts. The potential is vast. Finding your audience is becoming part of the creative experience.

Virgil’s work is copyrighted and he must give permission for its reproduction or use in any form.

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Today Was Becky’s Birthday

Today, was Becky’s birthday; she would have been 63.

I started the day by going to the patisserie. It was our special place to go for breakfast treats.  I need to start my day there because I often run into people that I can chat with and absorb the energy of friendly folks. After a latte and hot chocolate I was ready to meet the day.

I cleaned the house: bachelor cleaned which is not as meticulous as if Becky had been inspecting my work. But, hay, it meets government specs.

I went to Kowalski’s, a great local chain grocery with good produce, deli meat, etc., and picked up flowers: a dozen red roses and an autumn bouquet full of yellows and oranges. The roses sit on a corner of the fireplace hearth and the bouquet is in the dinning room table.

I tried to take a nap but I was too restless. A cascade of thoughts pelted me: some about Becky and some just out of the wild blue.

I then got cleaned up and dressed in black pants, a black knit shirt, and a dark blue tweed herring bone coatm black shoes that I’ve only worn for weddings and funerals finished  it. Becky would have fought with me for an hour to get dressed up: clean levi’s was fine for me. But today, all I could think of was making Becky proud.

I then went to Cafe Ena: our place.I had thought of inviting other of Becky’s friends to join me but I’m not ready for company.

I got there before the rush and had the place much to myself. That was good because I was filled with sadness and tears.

I started by ordering a bottle of Honoro Vera, a Spanish merlot. I toasted Becky for all the good that she had done during her life, all the pain that she had soothed. I didn’t feel a need to tell her how much I loved her, simply because I do that every day.

I ordered the Camaron Caribe, a battered deep fried shrimp, that was our favorite. I didn’t order the guacamole because it was just too much. We often talked about the perfect evening was to come to Ena’s and order several appetizers with a good bottle of wine.

Because it was early, the staff was still setting up for the evening. The Maître d’, Jose went to each table and set out fresh flowers. He then returned with a tray of red and yellow votive candles that he placed on each table. His face was lit by the flickering light and for an instant I thought of the candles that Becky and I would light at Notre Dame in Paris.

While I drank my wine, I watched the darkening sky and the clouds sweeping in from the south-east. Across the street is the patisserie. In the darkening evening, the warm lights of the patisserie reminded me of the times that Becky and I had sat at a sidewalk cafe and watched night cover Paris.

Suddenly, I am aware that life is good even though it is bittersweet.

The music in Ena’s is a Latin cafe mix. I can’t help but drum my fingers in rhythm with the complex music. I am reminded of Madrid and a tapas bar where, on a cool December evening, Becky and I sampled a few of the myriad of delights. It was Christmas Eve, 2009 and we were going to go a Mozart concert. We had a wonderful time and returned to our hotel exhausted.

I order the Conchas, pan seared scallops on a bed of coconut risotto with a sprig of mint. I am a creature of habit and the Conchas get me every time. Tonight they are even better than their usual exceptional.

I toast Becky again. I thank her for enduring love and patience.

It is getting late enough that the dinner crowd is starting to coming in. The energy increases.

I have always liked to watch people, to see them interacting and imagine the emotional dialog that plays out. I realize that when Becky was with me she grounded me. Rather than being an observer, I was connected directly to the pulsing blood of her life. Now, I am untethered, I can imagine the interplay of life that I see at other tables, memories of my own life, but adrift. There is a remoteness that has entered my life.

The Honoro Vera is almost gone.

I’m not certain if the wine has lowered my inhibitions and allowed me to think more honestly or if I am in my cups, as they used say in the 19th century.

The conchas are cold but still delicious.

I savor the moment, the world outside and the growing crowd inside.

I’ve killed the bottle of wine. One dead soldier bobbing in the wake of a perfect meal.

No dessert tonight. I’m done, stick a fork in me.

I have pleasant glow and I feel Becky with me, scolding me for drinking too much, but surrounding me with her love.

Hector, the owner and chef is finishing a meal with his kids. I stop by and tell him that the Honoro is an excellent Merlot and that the Conchas were, as usual, perfect. We start to talk about Becky and he tells me about how important she was to the opening of Ena’s and that it was an honor to have her picture on the alter for Dia de Los Muertos. Becky is a part of Cafe Ena’s.

The night is over. I’m home and thinking about seeing what I can download from Netflix.

The house is neatened up, there are fresh flowers, and I feel Becky’s presence just out of sight.

Happy Birthday Becky.

 

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Size Does Matter

Not much to say about this.

I watched about a half a dozen people try to squeeze their cars into this space and eventually give up. Then came along this SmartCar.

Size does matter.

 

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the Dog Whisper

There is a fellow who stops by the patisserie almost everyday. He is accompanied by a pack of dogs: a huge pack of dogs.

His routine is always the same. He stands by the bench, faces his companions and says, very quietly, “Lay down.” Almost in unison the entire group lays down and gets comfortable. There are a couple of outliers who needed extra coaching which involves repeating the command along with the a subtle hand signal. It is always the new members to the pack, who haven’t quite gotten all the rules, who need the extra attention.

Then they all lay in the sun and take a break from their busy morning of walking, sniffing, and peeing. As they lay quietly together, some using others as pillows, the Dog Whisper, which is what everyone calls him, takes the water dish that is set out by the folks at the patisserie, and offers it to each dog individually. Each waits his turn patiently and gets a long cold drink.

I’ve been watching this guy with his ever-growing tribe for almost a year. They are held together by an intricate spider web of leashes which gives each dog the space he needs while keeping them all intimately connected to their shepard. A gentle tug here and a slight pressure there and the swarm of dogs delicately navigates its way down the street. It is a ballet.

Technical Note:   This is one of the first photos that I’ve taken with my new Samsung Note 10.1 tablet. It is like taking pictures with a dinner plate, but the results are satisfactory for snapshots. There simply times when I don’t want to carry my camera and yet don’t want to miss those spontaneous moments.

I got the tablet because I want to take may online research reading with me rather than be chained to my computer. I decided not to get a smartphone because the display area is too small to comfortably read long newspaper articles or reports with graphics.

I am just scratching the surface of this device and I’m already hooked.

 

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