Icebergs Ahead!!

When I was in high school, my art teacher taught us with acrylic paint.  "We don't use oil paints in the classroom because of the chemicals and fumes."  The what?!

Since the age of 16, I was led to believe that oil painting was 1 part art and 3 parts science.  And I hated science (still do -- Mr. S really knows how to put me to sleep with that anatomy stuff).  And so I was happy to use acrylics and stayed far, far away from those oil paints and their caustic chemical reactions in fear that if I didn't use them right I would cause my painting to spontaneously combust.

It wasn't until I was years into my "career" and I decided to get back into painting that I considered oils.  And really, I only considered oil painting because there was no other option.  Well, there was watercolor, but watercolor is pretty unwieldy stuff and I'd rather risk burning my eyebrows off than wrestle with watercolor.  So, I signed up for a Beginner Oil Painting class and here is where all my misconceptions were cleared up.  Oil based pigment needs to be mixed with a medium to create a paint-like consistency.  Apparently back in the day only turpentine was available as a medium.  Turpentine is very stinky, and from what I'm told still a chemical to be feared.  Thankfully, I've still never actually come in contact with real turpentine because somewhere between the time of Michelangelo and the time of the iPhone, someone has created a synthetic medium called "Turpenoid"  -- works like turpentine, but is odorless and student-friendly.  It even comes in an eco-friendly version.

In most art classes, painting or otherwise, students are taught by performing "Master Studies," which is essentially taking a famous artist's work and copying it, thereby learning techniques and skills by doing what the artist did.  I selected Frederic Church's "The Icebergs" mostly because I liked the colors.

The Icebergs, Frederic Church, 1861

This was certainly a learning experience...I learned that I could spend 5 hours painting in one day and I still not get that craggy look to the ice rocks.  I guess this was a memorable experience for my teacher too, because almost two years later, he let me know that The Icebergs were on loan at the Met as part of a temporary exhibit.  He urged me to see it for myself in person.  So on Sunday, I dragged Mr. S to the Met with me to find The Icebergs.

The Met is gi-nor-mous.  I knew the quickest way to find The Icebergs was to ask someone in a black blazer.  The first Black Blazer directed us to the American Paintings exhibit.  I should have realized then that this was wrong because American Paintings is a permanent exhibit and The Icebergs are just on loan to the Met.  We walked around the multiple rooms in the American Paintings wing and asked a second Black Blazer where The Icebergs are.

Me: Hi, we're looking for Church's Icebergs
BB: Hmm...well, who is it by?
Me: Frederic Church
BB: Oh we've got lots of Church right over there
Me: Yeah...no...that's not it.  It's a big painting of Icebergs.

At this point, I pulled up the painting on my iPhone.

Me: This is what it looks like.
BB: Well where does it say it is?
Me: It says it's part of the Dallas permanent collection.
BB: Well then it's not here!!

At this point I want to shake the man and yell. "Obviously I know what city I am in Black Blazer!!"  Instead I said:

Me: Um, well no, I'm pretty sure it's here.  A friend told me he saw it here a few weeks ago.  I think it's part of a temporary exhibit?
BB: < thinking...thinking...thinking > Icebergs...icebergs...icebergs...
Me: < waiting...waiting...waiting >
BB: Oh yes!  Maybe the Civil War exhibit!!  That's our temporary exhibit.  There are some paintings of the Aurora Borealis there.  If Icebergs are anywhere, they could be there...

He at least knew the quickest way to get to the Civil War exhibit.  I had my blinders on as I zoomed past the tourists and other artworks.  I just had to get to The Icebergs.  Part of me was starting to doubt my information...maybe it wasn't really here?  Did I just pay $25 to not see The Icebergs??  Finally, we came up the stairs into a large room, and there it was, in all its craggy glory.

The real painting is very large, 64 x 112 inches, and it took Church one whole year to paint it. I started to take out my iPhone to snap a picture when a third Black Blazer barked, "NO PICTURES."  Party pooper, how about you go yell at all those tourists with their flash cameras.  So I settled at staring at it for 20 minutes, all up close and personal.  My art teacher says you can always spot a fellow artist in museums because they are the ones standing two inches away from the painting, trying to figure out how the artist did what he did.  After seeing it in person, I think 2 things -- 1) SO COOL 2) His is definitely better than mine.

I Heart NYC.

Pound Puppies

I’ve mentioned before that I want a dog.  Mr. S wants a dog too, even more so than me.  On most Saturdays, Mr. S and I will get breakfast then walk over to Carl Schurz Park and watch the dogs in the Big Dog park (we don’t waste our time with that crappy Little Dog park).  We aren’t allowed inside the dog park because we don’t actually have a dog, so we hang on the fence and watch from outside, discussing which one we would like to steal and take home for ourselves.  Mr. S also does great color commentary on the dogs, which is my favorite part of this whole ritual. 

One Sunday, I was looking through PetFinder.com, just for fun, and found a cute little pitbull.  His description noted that he had escaped Death Row once and was desperately looking for his Forever Home.  Ugh, he was so cute.  I showed him to Mr. S and he found out that he was only 20 blocks away from us. 

“Let’s go see him!”
“OK!!!”

On the way, we discussed what we would do if we fell in love with this dog and had to take him home.

Mr. S: We can hide him in the apartment.  Other people have asshole dogs.  Why can’t we have a kickass dog?
Me: Our neighbor will tell on us.  We can tell the landlord that we need to break the lease because I lost my job.
Mr. S: Yeah, yeah let’s do that!!

Nevermind that we might become homeless for an unknown amount of time, or that our rent would certainly increase, or that I am allergic to dogs.  We were determined to save him. 

Midway through our walk, my subconscious must have come to her senses.

Me (stopped walking and hiding behind a bus shed): I don’t think I’m ready.
Mr. S (like I knocked the wind out of his sails): It’s ok.  We don’t have to get him.  We can just go look and decide later.

10 minutes later we arrived at the Manhattan Animal Care & Control.  When we walked in there was a man dropping off his 9 month old Schnauzer mix.  His reason: she was too hyper and he couldn’t train her. Jerk.  

The Manhattan AC&C is basically the city pound.  They cannot refuse any animal that is brought in or found as a stray.  Due to this, and their limited government funding, they are a kill shelter – which means, if an animal doesn’t get adopted, he or she will be put to sleep.  Wah!

We headed upstairs to see the dogs.  It was the saddest sight ever.  As we walked by each cage, the dogs perked up their heads, and put on their most heartbreaking “please take me with you” face.  Some of them were sad, and just stayed lying down in their cage.  Others were so happy to see people walking by that they jumped up and licked to greet us.

 

Each dog is given a series of behavioral tests to see how they interact with people, children, and other animals.  All this information is critical to ensuring the dog gets placed with the right family.  The dog we found online would not have been a good match for us since he has issues being around other dogs.  Although we have both owned dogs previously, Mr. S and I have zero experience with anti-social dogs.  Plus we really, really, really want to be part of the Big Dog park club. 

We kept looking and landed on Arkam.  He was a tan pitbull that seemed very gentle and loving in his cage.  He stood right up when we approached his cage and had a big happy smile.  When it was our turn to talk to the adoption consultant, we said that we were interested in him.  She told us that he aced all his behavioral tests and would do great in any home.  YES!  We got to take him out and play catch with him a little bit.  He walked perfectly on the leash and brought the ball back every time we threw it at him.  In short, he was the best behaved dog we’ve ever come across (even considering the ones we have previously owned).  The consultant told us that they don’t have a lot of history on any of the dogs that come into the center, but she could tell that he was owned by a family since he knew how to “sit” and “lie down” and they don’t teach that kind of stuff at the center.  

Then she asked us if our apartment allows dogs.  I lied, “Yes, but there is a 50lb weight limit.”  And then I lied again, “But we are looking to move next month anyway.”    

After playing with Arkam, we told the consultant that we needed more time to think about it.  It is, after all, a big decision that would have a big impact on our lifestyle.  Mr. S and I headed home disappointed.  We knew we could take care of him, but we didn’t want to have to hide him or live in fear of being kicked out.  Plus, 3 of us in a studio might be too crowded?  Oh and I’m allergic.  However, I should note that I showed no allergic reactions during our visit, and it definitely smelled like dogs.   All in all, it just isn’t the right time for us to adopt.

Even with that rational realization, we vowed that if he ever got put on Death Row, we would go back to get him.  So far, he hasn’t appeared on the list.  (There is an “At Risk” list put out every night showing which 

dogs are to be put to sleep the next day.  Mr. S checks it religiously.)  If you or anyone you know might be interested in adopting a loveable, perfectly behaved pitbull, check out Arkam or any of his friends at www.nycacc.org.

Feelin' hot hot hot!

You’ll find that weekends in the summer are pretty empty in the city because most people escape to their little beach towns for the weekend.  I don’t blame them.  Summer weekends in the city are pretty brutal.  The oppressive heat in the subways makes it hard to breathe, steam rises from the asphalt, and the clunker of an A/C we have in our little apartment doesn’t do squat for cooling us down.  But for me, I enjoy the emptiness in the city.  I can sit anywhere on the subway, walk zig zag patterns on the sidewalk, and just enjoy all the space.  But it is friggin’ hot. 

Last weekend my friend A.Ho and I decided that we were too pale for mid-July and we needed to spend our Saturday rectifying this situation.  But because it was going to be so hot, we needed to tan somewhere with a pool.  And so we started researching our options:

• Find a friend who lives in a building with a rooftop pool – we have no such friends.  Darn.
• Swanky hotel pool – at some places we would have to pay a hefty fee to use the pool for the day, at others we could only use the pool if we were guests of the hotel (i.e., $400+ for a night at a hotel we didn’t need
•  Swanky gym pool – pay a lesser, but still hefty fee to use the pool for the day
• Public pool – free, but extremely crowded and must contend with cannon bombing children everywhere

A few weekends ago, I walked by a pool in an undisclosed location that looked pretty decent.  I looked it up when I got home and found out that it belonged to a rec center.  Membership to the rec center was $75 for 6 months.  Not a bad deal, especially since we could use the pool from now until the fall as many times as we wanted.  We decided we didn’t need anything swanky– just us, tanning oil, and a pool to plunge in.  I told A.Ho about it and she was sold. 

On Saturday morning we took a cab to the rec center.  At the doors, two “security guards” checked our bags for weapons and food.  We also needed to show we had a lock for the locker.  We passed the screening and headed inside the building.  Hmm…no front desk to sign us up for membership.  We kept walking in search of someone to pay and found the locker rooms, pool, and other amenities. 

“Wait, wait…we didn’t pay, we have to pay somewhere…let’s go back and ask that information desk guy.”

To info desk guy, who didn’t even ask for our membership card:  

“Hi, we want to use the pool –“
“Yeah, yeah just have the security guards check you out.”
“Um, yeah, we did, but uh, we need to pay membership?  We’re not members.”
“You don’t need to be a member to use the pool.”
“It’s free?!?”
“Yeah.”  (He might as well have said “Duh.”)

At that point, A.Ho and I looked at each other like we just won the lottery and scampered away giggling like little idiots, before the info desk man could wisen up and demand $75 from each of us.  Once in the locker room, we let our emotions go:

“FREE!!!!  FREE?!?!?  FREEEEEEE!!!!!!!”  

And then, like any good NYC-er, “We can’t tell anyone about this!”

Very few things in NYC are free -- and of those very few free things, almost none of them are something you actually want.  The free things that people do want either get so popular they become no longer free or impossible to get.  For this reason, New Yorkers keep things like this a secret.  Sorry folks, but I’m not gonna ruin it for the rest of us.

The pool turned out to be ok (but since it was free, it was amazing).  There were lots of rules to comply with and there weren’t any chairs so we had to lay our towels down on the concrete.  It filled up by noon time with children and teenagers who cannon bombed to their heart’s content.  We actually didn’t mind the splashing since it was so hot.  All in all, it was totally worth the $0 we spent.  

Let's pick up where we left off

Every good blogger out there knows that the key to blogging is frequency.  So, in order to keep the ball rolling and because I have nothing else interesting going on in my life, I will complete the "25 Things You Don't Know About Me" list that I started back in April.  Yeah, that Ode to Spam post last week - totally filler.  I haven't had Spam in months.

Let's see...where did we get to...oh yes!

12.  I have a tattoo. I got it 2 years ago, although I knew that I wanted a tattoo long before then.  It took me about 10 years to figure out what I wanted -- turns out I wanted the sun and stars from the Filipino flag.  Placement was an issue since I have to be boring professional-looking at work.  So I chose the left side rib cage area which is only visible when wearing a bathing suit.  I would get more tattoos except I can't think of another secret place to put them.  Just in case I have an epiphany, I save my tattoo ideas to Pinterest.

13.  My first job was at a hockey pro shop when I was a senior in high school.  I knew nothing about hockey, and I still don't.  I was told that the pro shop would grow to include soccer accessories, but it never did. It grew to include swim accessories since we were located in the YMCA which had a pool.  Our best sellers were hockey tape and waterproof diapers.

14.  My favorite candy is Raisinets.  Not chocolate covered raisins -- Raisinets.  And don't try to fool me, I can always tell an impostor.

15.  My favorite color is metallic (i.e., gold, silver, bronze, copper, etc.)  Mr. S maintains that metallic is not a color.  Pshh, what does he know.

16.  If I had to participate in an "All You Can Eat" contest, I would have the greatest chance of winning with clementines.  Or maybe dill pickles.

17.  I am 4'11" and three-quarters.  I was going to throw myself a party when I reached 5', but it never happened.  I looked into getting a handicap sticker for my car but found out that I had to be under 5' and have a disproportionate build.  Darn...but wait!

18.  I have freakishly small hands.  I have not met another adult with hands smaller than mine.  I avoid having my hands in pictures because the camera makes them look smaller.

Ok , let's stop there because I may need some blog fodder later this month...

Ode to Spam

Salty with crispy edges, you make me salivate

Mix with eggs and rice, so nice. 

From humble beginnings in a tin can,

You blossom in the skillet,

Or even microwave will do. 

Breakfast food of warriors,

Breakfast food of my home. 

Behind the Lens

This past Monday I bought myself my first big girl camera.  I had made the decision to upgrade before our trip to Portugal, but never actually pulled the trigger for 2 reasons:

1. DSLR cameras are big and heavy.  I wasn’t keen on the idea of lugging around a brick of a camera while traveling.
2. DSLR cameras are expensive.  I knew this would be an investment piece but the TJ Maxxinista inside of me resisted spending more than $400.  That’s a fairly lowball price for a high quality camera, but that was my budget and I was sticking to it.

I asked my photog friends to keep an eye out for any gently used (aka cheap) DSLR cameras, but no bites.  One day at work I struck up a convo with a colleague who is into photography and mentioned I was in the market for an upgrade from my point and shoot.  He introduced me to his little camera – The Fuji X100.  My first thought was, "How friggin’ cute!!"  (Form over function, always)  His camera is a mirrorless system, also known as the compact camera system.  It essentially functions like a DSLR (high quality pictures, interchangeable lens, completely customizable settings, and manual controls) but without the bulk, making it perfect for carrying along while traveling or just around the city.

Fuji X100

And with that, my focus was immediately shifted.  I don't research, I obsess.  I obsess about anything and everything, especially big purchases I want to make.  I can process 4 different websites/articles at once -- it’s quite impressive.  So after a few weeks of relentless reading of every review/blog/message board out there on the best mirrorless cameras for beginners, best mirrorless cameras for your buck, best retro looking mirrorless cameras, etc. I decided on the Olympus PEN E-P3.  

Throughout my obsessive reading, first time serious camera buyers kept questioning veterans on what camera they should buy.  The responses on what make and model varied, but most people answered “The best camera to buy is the one you will use.”  Makes sense to me.  So #1 deciding factor: the retro design.  It almost reminds me of Papa Rice Ball’s old Nikon, the one with real film and manual crank (somewhere out there, a person between the ages of 16-21 doesn't know what I’m talking about…ugh).  Holding something so nostalgic makes taking pictures that much more fun and therefore more likely that I will take it everywhere with me.  The #2 deciding factor: this baby was marked down 72%!!!  What?!?  I should have bought 3...

Olympus PEN E-P3

Granted my Oly (that’s what people in the biz call it) isn't as precious looking as the Fuji X100, but it’s also a quarter of the price.  Bargains like this make me feel like such a champion.  If bargain shopping was a sport, I’d be in the Olympics.  And those crazy coupon cutting people can't qualify for the Bargain Olympics because they are buying crap that nobody wants – who wants 300 deodorants even if they are 50 cents each?  

My obsession usually leads to prompt purchasing action since once I know what I'm buying I won't can't rest until it is in my possession. Turns out the retailer that I was going to order from online was located here in NYC -- instant gratification was only 28 blocks away!  After 1 hour and less than $400 later, I was the proud owner of a new big girl camera.  I'm currently obsessing on how to use it...