Art Is Life: LIVE! Part III

Last night I did something that I haven’t in far too long: I sat in bed, with a hot cup of tea and a good book. Not only do I feel as though I haven’t been reading enough lately, but this city offers so much diversion that often times I need to make a firm effort to give myself some ‘me’ time.

I plucked Kurt Vonnegut’s A Man Without A Country from my bookshelf (currently full of books I have yet to read) and dove in. To be perfectly honest, I have read very little of Vonnegut’s work…okay, okay, I’ll rephrase that…I don’t think I’ve read any of Vonnegut’s work. This, my friends, is too bad, because I’m quickly becoming a fan, and wishing that my previous years had been filled (and potentially influenced) by his frank words.

One section in particular of the book pleased and resonated with me so much that I decided to fall asleep directly after – perhaps with the intention of letting it seep into my slumbering mind. It went something like this:

“If you want to really hurt your parents, and you don’t have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”

This, here, makes so much sense to me (on numerous levels), and I’ll tell you why. I love life. I’m sure it has bunches to do with the way in which I was raised, the places I’ve lived and the experiences I’ve had, and my surroundings; however I think it would be a mistake to say that it didn’t have something to do with the fact that art has always been around me, it is in my bones and in what I do. Vonnegut, in the beginning of this particular book, speaks specifically about how much life sucks. We all have our ups and downs, by I have to imagine that at least some of the reason I’ve been scoffed at for my borderline naively positive outlook on life is because art has shaped the lens through which I look at the world. As Vonnegut says, art makes life more bearable, and feeds our soul.

Me caes bien, Señor Vonnegut, and I’m stoked to see what else you have in store for me.

Hasta la proxima, chicos

Spring is in the Air(es)

Well hello again, you.

So I know that I have taken a rather lengthy hiatus from posting. In early August I hit the one-year mark with my beloved Buenos Aires. This also happened to come at a rather unsettling time of reflection and direction(lessness), and I was somewhat with out inspiration, and equally lacking in ganas to post. Who really likes those self-indulged blogs anyways? I sure don’t. This one is enough on the borderline that I feared any posts would materialize themselves into a whiny trail of thoughts, and thus turn this into a ‘far-too-much-information’ thing, which has never, and will never, be my intention. But now I’m back – with direction, with inspiration, with ganas, and with spring.

After a year filled with various jobs in a big and exciting foreign city, dance has been my therapy. July gave way to me quitting my job and having some serious “what am I doing with myself” moments, all of which led me to the (if somewhat reluctant) conclusion that truly, honestly, dance is the only thing that I can foresee myself doing…at least for the not so immediate future. For right now, I’m not done with the stage. So try I will to perform here in Baires, and if that doesn’t work, then there are myriad other facets of the dance industry that will hopefully provide employment. Because after all, how does one ever know if they don’t at least try? It’s the main thing that has made me happy since before I could even make my own decisions, and thus I don’t really think it’s going anywhere. As a very good dancer friend of mine said: “dance is like a lover you can never, ever get over”. That’s the truth…but hell, it’s a lover that I never want to get over.

This epiphany and its timing led me to debate beginning some new creative projects. New year, new blog, let’s say. Something a bit less personal, while still maintaining the creative outlet. Though ultimately, this blog has essentially been the main ‘consistent’ throughout all of my time here in Baires, and as a result, it’s here to stay. Albeit with a bit of a makeover

So here we are (if I may borrow from Bloc Party). September 22nd marked the official first day of Spring (and my 24th birthday!), and one of my favorite seasons in Buenos Aires. The warm weather is coming and I’m stoked to take my lovely camera away from it’s perching place (a shelf in my closet) and start documenting some of the action.

Stay tuned kids, for the adventure is most definitely continuing.

(Listening to: The Temper Trap/Conditions. Check out there website HERE!)

Snapshots From A Love Affair (with Argentina)

Diiiirty Dirty Dog

Two particular things that are common occurrences of life in this city (and many other stimulating places) happened to me today – and not surprisingly in conjunction. One of these things is the typical “where is my camera when I need it?!” feeling that many visual people suffer from. While a large part of me resents those tourists and photographers (not that I am a tourist here…to clarify…eh hem) that so constantly look through their camera lens to the point that they completely bypass looking through and establishing their own lens, missing a unique photo op does irk me a little. The second – more of a scene than anything else, which happens at least once a week (though today’s was particularly extraordinary) – is when I find myself quite literally stopped dead in my tracks, either hysterically laughing or confusedly chuckling, at some event, possibly minute or grand, on the streets of Buenos Aires.

Today I was leaving my Jazz class with a high spirited bounce in my step, as I commonly do right after a great dance class. I walked out the door of my studio and was greeted by an adorable yellow lab, not so adorably and rather awkwardly attempting to bathe itself in an extremely shallow and dirty puddle. Let me clarify – this puddle was not a large puddle – it was merely the combined result of build up from the past days’ light rain and a dip in the meeting point of street and sidewalk (Buenos Aires’ sewage system needs a fair share of work). And this dog was making an agressive attempt to wet the majority of his already slightly dirty, golden coat. I literally stopped in the middle of the side walk and spent a good few minutes staring and laughing, as this dog dipped, squirmed, and shook. While observing I noticed he had a collar – this was not a street dog! If it were, this behavior, in my ‘amused pedestrian’ eyes, would have been acceptable. Where was said owner, and why had he or she not bathed their dog correctly?! Quite the contrary, how could they have managed to so horribly fail at grooming their canine to the point that said dog was compelled to do so in the street?! I mean, who knows what this dogs history is, but it is wiiiinter here, and thus I really don’t think this dog was suffering from some random over heat-age.

Though, even if I did have my camera, I’m not sure the visual aid would do much better than my words have at describing this event that I for some reason found hilarious. Perhaps you just had to be there?

And here I am, listening to Alexi Murdoch and pondering the history of some random yellow lab I saw squirming around in a puddle on the street outside my dance studio. Bed time, I say.

*For those of you who aren’t familiar with Alexi Murdoch and like chill music with string instrumentals and soothing vocals (great for late night/early morning relaxed activities) I would highly recommend checking him out.*

Hasta la proxima.

Art is Life: LIVE (part 2)

I read an article in the NYTimes the other day that really, really resonated considering where I’m currently at with my life in Buenos Aires, and in general.

As I think I have mentioned before on this blog, a dancer friend and I are starting up a small touristic business here in Baires, aimed at a historically/artistically oriented group of people. I don’t want to give too much away considering that it’s still in the works (as a hint: we’re planning our launch to coincide with the huge World Tango Championships that begin here in August), but this article really gave me a needed dose of inspiration that I will be able to make a life-long career for myself revolving around the various artistic endeavors that are the absolute passions of my life.

There was one specific paragraph of the article that had me ever so slightly raise my voice in a triumphant nod of agreement (once again talking to myself in my living room…go figure), acknowledging the clear connection between the arts, culture, and tourism. During my final semester at Emory, as a requirement for my self devised IDS major, I took a class called “Contemporary Issues in Dance”, with one of my favorite professors in the Department. One of the things we frequently discussed was the arts place in today’s shifting environment, both Internationally and Nationally. Obama was putting final touches on the Stimulus Package, and the general artists community was in a tizzy because many politicians were balking about the extremely meager $50 million that the package allotted to the NEA (aka the National Endowment for the Arts), claiming that it was too much money to spend on an outlet where you would not be able to tangibly measure the economic benefit. Are you kidding me? One of the things that me and the million other tourists and expats so adore about this city is the ridiculous quantity of cultural offerings that is has to offer, any time of any day, at an absurdly accessible price. Read: art = culture = tourism. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the correlation between art and culture, and to recognize what a huge place culture has in driving and maintaining a cities touristic industry.

But enough of my opinions…read the article for yourself! Hopefully everyone will be able to come to find something that resonates with their personal and professional life, and ergo come to their own conclusions.

Here’s the article: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/19/arts/design/19profit.html?ref=arts

Chau for now homies. Un beso!

Vamos Argentina, Vamos USA!!

Saturday’s soccer filled scene was one well worth witnessing.

After a lovely slumber filled Friday evening, I awoke relatively early for a Saturday, with the clock inching towards 11am. This relaxed evening was thanks to the combination of a debauchery filled Thursday evening and what I anticipated as a soccer filled Saturday, as both Argentina and the USA were scheduled to play their first matches in the World Cup.

Still somewhat dreary eyed, I made my way into my living room to pull up the thin, horizontal plastic boards that do a phenomenal (almost too phenomenal, I might add) job of blocking out nearly all light from entering my apartment and thousands of other apartments around the city. Right as my persiana was fully drawn, I couldn’t help but notice a group of three Argie’s, clad in light blue and white, out on a balcony of one of the buildings across the way from my street facing apartment, jumping and shouting with contagious excitement. At this moment, I knew their extreme joy could only mean one thing: Argentina 1/Nigeria 0.

Argentina’s first game in the World Cup, against Nigeria, had started a mere seven minutes earlier, and the first (and only) goal of the game was shot by Messi within the blink of an eye. I promptly clicked on my TV to one of the many channels that were featuring live coverage of the game, and watched the rest of the match in the comfort of my apartment while eating breakfast and busying myself around the house. Later in the day I met up with some friends and headed to an Irish pub not far from my place to watch the (not as exciting) game between The USA and England, where a tie permitted nearly all of the patrons at the bar to leave somewhat satisfied.

There are two morals of this story: 1) June is going to be pure mayhem in this city, as one of the most soccer fanatical countries celebrates an entire month of soccer that their home team gets to partake in, and 2) life in this country will turn anyone, player or not, into a soccer fan.

That’s all for now, amigos. Hasta la prooooxima!

Oooh and I almost forgot. Here’s one final treat for the eyes and ears of you music lovers out there – two very different videos from recents that my ears are currently devouring the beats of as of late:

-Theophilus London, is a rapper from Brooklyn that Fader deems to be at the center of the NYC borough’s new “urban pop movement”. Now, London does not really fit within the genre of music that I typically am drawn to, but this guy’s combination of sounds, sexy voice and melody is making it very hard for me to sit still in my chair right now. I’m really looking forward to more of his tunes to come out soooon. Check out his video for “Humdrum Town” here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gypiIfMJYro, and do check another song of his that I can’t manage to take off repeat, “Light Years”.

CEO aka Eric Berglund, half of the electro-pop duo from Sweden, has completed a solo project that is due out in June. I found out about this artist on one of the websites I often frequent when I’m itching for new music (http://wearehunted.com/). It did not take me long – half-way through his popular single, in fact – to realize that I recognized this voice from somewhere. A very little bit of internet research (thank goodness for the World Wide Web!) informed me that this new musical delight was not new at all. So, check him out, and for those of you that don’t already know The Tough Alliance, check them out too! And you can peep the vid to his single here: http://www.thefader.com/2010/05/28/ceo-eric-berglund-of-tough-alliance-come-with-me-mp3-video/

More music digs to come soon!

Buenos dias, Buenos Aires

Today I write to you while hovered over a bowl of warm oatmeal with fresh mango, from the safety of my well-lit and wonderfully heated apartment. (But…who am I kidding…save a few posts, the majority of these entries have been produced in the same exact place, on the street facing side of my living room table, with a glass of some kind of liquid refreshment perched on my right).

This morning marked the second of my 8am Pilates classes at this adorable studio across the street, literally stumbling distance from my apartment. While at a goodbye dinner for a friend of mine (study abroad-er heading back home – another unfortunately transient friend who I will undoubtedly cross paths with at some point later in life) on Saturday, I announced, with pride, to a group of 10 (8 of whom were girls), that I recently started Pilates classes. All of the girls “ooooh’d” and “aahhh’d” with intrigue, until I mentioned that I was taking them at 8am. “Ohmygoooodness whyyyy!” said one, “torture! pure torture!”, chimed in another. This 8am start time is a result of a small studio with only 5 reformers and somewhat odd hours. The scheduling was a bit of a hassle – but let’s be honest, I knowingly elected this time, and quite frankly, it has been a wonderfully healthy and positive addition to my life down here.

The class consists of mostly middle aged to older women, and is taught by one or the other of an adorable set of Argie brothers, who I would say are about mid-forties. Being the youngest in the class (and a dancer), the teachers always make a note to pick on me…taunting me with “baiiilariiiiina! tenes que hacerlo perfecto!”. This morning I savored every last moment of sleep before my alarm literally screamed at me to get my ass out of bed, resulting in a behind schedule exit from my apartment. I rushed down the stairs, carefully moving as quickly as I could while descending the spiraling marble staircase of my apartment building, stormed through the door, and start running diagonally across the intersection (on a green…friends, I do NOT suggest doing this in Baires, though the fact that it was 8:05am did make the endeavor a bit less risky). I arrived to the door of Soul Pilates (a mere 30 yards from my front door), where the teacher hastily opened the door and confessed to me that I run like a girl (ummm…aren’t I?), and that he figured the awkward figure jogging down the sidewalk could have only been me. Lovely.

Belle and Sebastian’s Electronic Rennaisance just came up on my playlist, and the little numbers in the upper right hand corner of my screen indicate that it is well past time for me to shower and get a move on with my day. Don’t want to be late for work!

Apologies for the delay between these two posts (for all of my avid readers, of course…someone? anyone?), after the Joda filled weekend that just finished (Shampoo on Friday followed by Jet on Saturday made for two booty shaking filled nights and two…erm…unfortunately hungover plagued days), I’m determined to have a tranquilo, culture filled few days in the near future, which will hopefully include some noteworthy events!

Hast la proximo chicos. Un beso grande a todos