New York, New York

hello comrades!

Guess who went on a mini vacation?

Guess where the mini vacation was?

(that one's pretty easy, considering my post title!)

you got it...

 NEW YORK CITY, baby!

Where the city never sleeps
and the taxis mean business.

We had never been to New York,

and it was sort of a last minute thing.

All because of this guy:

ROBERT. PLANT.

Lead singer of Lez Zeppelin...

O.M.G. (insert fainting here)

Our 18 year old son loves him as much as we do, 

so when we found out he was playing

at the beautiful Brooklyn Academy of Music,

we just had to get tickets.

And need I tell you

what a fabulous time it was?

No, i didn't think so. 

It's fucking Robert Plant.

Anyone who thinks this guy is done

should think again.

Incredible voice & energy for someone who's 66.

I wanna be like him when I grow up.

We tried to do as much as we could
in five short days there.
We actually stayed in Brooklyn
in one of the Jewish communities.
Loved it.
Stay tuned for small stories. ;-) 

Walked across the Brooklyn Bridge a few times.
and each time, these love locks
made me smile.

People from all around the world

leave these locks all across the bridge,

wanting to leave their mark in NYC. 

Spent some time at Grand Central Station,

a most beautiful place to hang out

and people watch.

Ground zero
the 9-11 memorial.
A beautiful and somber place.

I had seen it on TV,

but the size of it was overwhelming in person.

There is still such a sadness here,
even after so many years.
I suspect there always will be.

one of the many high rises in NYC

Central Park.

Such a beautiful place.

There were musicians all over the park

and this guy was playing the most beautiful

classical guitar.

The sound here under these columns
and the beauty around me
made me wanna cry.

Our son... pondering the meaning of life. ;-)

John Lennon's strawberry fields...

Alex, feeding a squirrel in the park.

I love how the squirrels tiny hand

is touching Alex's finger.

the gates of John Lennon's home,
where he was shot in 1980,
and where Yoko Ono still lives.

I have so many more things to say about New York,

and I suspect you'll be hearing about them

in the next few blog posts.

A city of contrasts.

A city of kindness.

A city of cultures weaving themselves together

like patches on a quilt.

The stretch limos driving past the homeless people.

I always struggle with things like that.

My son asked me at one point

why there could be so many homeless people

in a place that had so many empty buildings.

I don't know why.

It shouldn't be, but it is.

art, war and the world...

We can all be so self righteous sometimes...

I know I can.
I am so certain of what works for me,
that I assume it has to work for everyone else.

While talking with a good friend the other day,
I heard myself telling her that
if everyone was able to express themselves thru art,
the world would be a better place.
She replied, with kindness:
"that's because you're an artist".
I wanted to scream:
we're all artists!
Some of us have just forgotten.

And then I thought: are we really all artists?
Does it matter what we call ourselves?
Isn't the real purpose of art more about
how it makes us feel vs.
what it looks like, in the end?
Art is about more
than just pretty pictures.
Think of the therapists who use art
as a way of communication
for children who were physically abused.
Most of these children
are too traumatized to speak.
So they draw with wax crayons
and much of the artwork is far from pretty.
But the expression of art itself
is the pathway to healing.

When I sat to paint earlier today,
I was not in the mood to paint anything happy.
Sometimes I am, sometimes not.
So i painted this sad looking orange man.
But it felt good to paint it
and I felt good about it after I was done.
It's not about pretty for me - 
and it saddens me that so many people
stop themselves from making art
because they don't feel good enough.
Because they don't feel their work
measures up to others.
Comparing kills creativity
as well as the spirit.

If you happen to love painting pretty flowers,
or beautiful birds,
go for it!
Paint that.
But if you get a day where you just want to paint black,
let yourself paint black.
Or blues.
Or grays.

Picasso's mood was obviously different

from this painting:

to this one,

during his blue period.

When I was in high school,

in Western Canada,

one of my best friends

was from Ireland.

His name was Eamon.

We were talking about our hometowns one day

and he listened more than he talked.

When I finally asked him about what it was like
to grow up in Ireland in the 60s & 70s,
he quietly replied that he and his siblings
spent a lot of time in the house -
to avoid the bombs outside.

He talked about the fighting
between religions
between soldiers,
and languages
and cultures.

And suddenly,
I felt very small...
and selfish
and sad for so much of the world.

Even if the fighting in Ireland
had nothing to do with me.

I wonder sometimes,

if Eamon had made art,

what kind of art would it have been?

the genius and sadness of Robin Williams

You're only given a little spark of madness.

You mustn't lose it.

- Robin Williams

When I first heard

of Robin Williams’ death,

my first thought was:

can’t be.

I’ve always loved Robin Williams.

His genius was palpable.

People like Robin

are few & far between.

When someone like this dies

and so many people feel the ripple of sadness,

you just know the world lost

an important person.

A few things stayed with me

when I heard of his death,

but in particular, a comment I heard

by his good friend, the famous David Letterman,

where he said this about his lifelong friend:

I’m sorry, like everybody else,

I had no idea that the man was in pain,

that the man was suffering.

That’s it, isn’t it?

That’s the point for someone who is battling 

serious depression.

Not letting it show.

Not wanting others to know.

Not letting the world see the sadness.

The darkness is too much for them to bear

so why would they want to share it?

If David Letterman, who was a true friend

and had been for so many years didn’t see it,

how could anyone else see it?

With depression,

it’s not about how many friends you have,

or how many people love you,

it’s about how you feel inside.

Robin Williams was loved by millions.

He had countless, profound friendships

and relationships

with people all over the world.

And yet…

he felt alone.

I am nowhere near understanding depression,

but I still believe there are many people out there

who are using depression (or mental illness)

as an excuse to get attention

or sympathy,

or a week off work.

A disgrace to those who struggle with the real thing,

day in, day out.

Like Robin did.

It makes me sad to know

that so many out there reach the point

of no return.

I am sad that Robin saw this

as his only way out.

Sad that he got so good

at hiding it from the world.

Sad that the world lost so much

when he decided

to leave…