Some Times

Sometimes...

You discover that it's not in anyone's best interest to find flaws with loved ones. Because then you must say you're sorry. And mean it!

Sometimes...

You discover you have a friend where you least expected one.

Sometimes...

You call it a victory if you can hold it all in until you walk through your door at the end of the day.

Sometimes...

You end your internship at a museum you've come to respect, with a boss you've come to love and admire.

Sometimes...

You send your resumes out into the wind like so many autumn leaves, completely unsure of where they will land and which ones will pay off.

Sometimes....

Life keeps going on. So you take afternoon walks on the Mall, or laugh with the bus driver, or bake cookies with your roomies and the last of your earthly food supplies.

And at all times...

You must remember who you are, and whose you are.

DC Lyndz, former intern, signing out.

A break from precedence... Lindsey goes Cutesy.

For the sake of being well-rounded (because a certain original blogfriend of mine thinks I need to include some nice Mormon-girlish blog topics BESIDES art... sigh. :) I present a recipe I found for exceptional from-scratch whole-wheat bread. Yes, I made bread all by myself, yeast and everything. Now that I am without a tv, a personal computer, an iPod, AND Facebook (the first three not by choice), I spend a lot of time reading, experimenting with cooking, and maybe even a lil dating. Oh, and travelling. I'm going to spend this Memorial Day weekend with friends exploring The South! We're staying with my wonderful family in North Carolina! Oh yes, East Coast, that's right: I think outside the Duck.

Ahem.

Honey Whole Wheat Bread
3 cups warm water (110 degrees F)
2 (.25 ounce) packages active dry yeast
1/3 cup honey
5 cups whole wheat flour
3 tablespoons butter, melted
1/3 cup honey
1 tablespoon salt
3 1/2 cups white flour
2 tablespoons MORE butter, melted

1. In a large bowl, mix warm water, yeast, and 1/3 cup honey. Add 5 cups wheat bread flour, and stir to combine. Let set for 30 minutes, or until big and bubbly.
2. Mix in 3 tablespoons melted butter, 1/3 cup honey, and salt. Stir in 3 cups white flour. Flour a flat surface and knead until not sticky - just pulling away from the counter, but still sticky to touch. (I rolled in a ton of flour during this process... don't ask me if that's normal or not. I'm not a cook. I just know it was sticking to my counter like no other, and that my roommate said kneading was important to get it to rise, and I definitely wanted fluffy bread!) Place in a greased bowl, turning once to coat the surface of the dough. Cover with a dishtowel. Let rise in a warm place (like on top of your pre-heated oven!) until doubled.
3. Punch down, and divide into 3 little loaves or two big ones. Place in greased bread pans, and allow to rise until dough has topped the pans by one inch. Once risen, sprinkle with oats for decoration (ok, that's not in the recipe... but I had to do that. More aesthetically pleasing that way.)
4. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 to 30 minutes. Lightly brush the tops of loaves with 2 tablespoons melted butter. Cool completely... or serve hot like me. Fresh bread's the bestest!

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My bread has fed me for two weeks now! I'm practically Michelle Obama! (Well, with bread, not home-grown veggies).

Since I am fully divesting myself of my inner girl on this post, I guess I'll show you my current secret music video obsession. I know everyone else probably says this, but she's totally ME in high school! Glasses, disdain for excessive hair straightening, love of studying and hoodies, dancing in her room like an idiot, crushes on dreamy men...... Holy crap, I haven't changed much. DON'T JUDGE ME:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTaPVlyEQc8

and did anyone else happen to notice this on Google? This isn't QUITE art, so I think I can get away with it:

First person to name this work gets a prize! I just talked about it... Happy birthday, Mary Cassatt! And kudos, Google, for having a little bit of culture! (And for running the world and being the best email provider EVER! love you!) Ok I think that does it for now. Lindsey's inner girly girl, signing out.

ABC's de ME. Et apres moi, le deluge..d'ART.

(It means, ABC's of Me. And after me, the flood... of ART. I'm paraphrasing King Louis XIV of France, you'll see why presently...)

A: Attached or Single: Single

B: Best Friend: Breann Hewitt (since high school!), Jessica Brothers (collegiate)

C: Cake or Pie: PECAN PIE! unless it's really a good funfetti cake...

D: Day of Choice: Sunday, with Saturday as an honorable mention.

E: Essential items: Bowls of cereal, cell phone, BLANKIES!, oil-blotting sheets, metro card, and Money (boo...)

F: Favorite Color: Green and Grey

G: Gummy Bears or Worms: Sour worms!!!

H: Home Town: Las Vegas

I: Indulgences: Overpriced, exotic meals/outings with friends. That's where my money goes. You only live single once, that's my excuse.

J: January or July: July, easy.

K: Kids: Once I find them a choice daddy, yes.

L: Life is incomplete without: The Gospel, my family, sunshine, bodies of water, something to learn about, adventures.

M: Marriage Date: hahahaha- well, my freshman year of college I decided I'd like to be married on 7/7/07. My conciliatory prize was a study abroad to Europe that summer, so I'm not too upset about missing that boat :) I guess I'll shoot for 11/11/11 now.

N: Number of Siblings: 2 little brothers, 2 little sisters

O: Oranges or Apples: Yellow apples. Oranges are a hassle.

P: Phobias: Ledges (I'm not scared of heights, I just get scared being on the edges of things... is there a name for that?)

Q: Quote: I love them. Here's a few:

“Expect nothing. Live frugally/on surprise.” -Alice Walker poem, and

"You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." -Wayne Gretzky, and

"Just heard news. No more bobby sox! Girls dresses to grow decidedly longer! Dignity everywhere." -I found this line in a letter from Minerva Teichert to her little sister in 1946. I don't know why I find it so funny!

R: Reasons to smile: SUMMER APPROACHING, boys with broad shoulders and rakish hair, cute little people on the metro

S: Season: SUMMER! THERE IS NO OTHER.

T: Tag: No. I'm not that girl.

U: Unknown fact about me: I just quit Facebook!!!

V: Vegetarian or Meat Eater: Vegetarian, if only because meat is expensive. When I get back to getting a paycheck, I shall return to being an omnivore.

W: Worst Habit: According to two very irritated brothers, I talk in a shrill baby voice sometimes. I swear I don't know when I'm doing it.

X: X-rays: Multiple head ones from breaking my nose while longboarding and undergoing sinus surgery; also from going to the dentist regularly.

Y: Yummy favorite food: I love sugar so much. I fear diabetes worse than death. :) Movie theater popcorn, peppermint ice cream, and oatmeal cookie dough round out the top 3.

Z: Zodiac sign: Cancer. Go crabs.

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Yes, I picked up an all-about me list from another blog. I normally never complete these... but this one was cute, with its little ABC twist. So there you go.

Art? Ok.

This is a new acquisition by the Hirshhorn, now on display in the Strange Bodies exhibition, which chronicles the various ways modern and contemporary art has manipulated the age-old subject of the human body. The show illustrates how 20th and 21st century artists have changed the body to express their own inner emotions, to diagram some "truth" about the human experience, to portray a political or social wrong perpetrated by and inflicted on humans, or to capture the irreverence and hilarity of modern life, and the changing notions of things like beauty, heroism, and the individual.

Yinka Shonibare MBE (which stands for Member of the British Empire, a title he was recently rewarded). The Age of Enlightenment- Antoine Lavoisier. 2008. Before I tell you what this piece is made out of, just look at it for a second, and take note of what stands out to you. Any questions arise?

"Fiberglass mannequin, Dutch wax printed cotton, mixed media." That's the official media tag line, as copied from The Age of Enlightenment's label in the gallery, four floors below me. Yinka Shonibare, the artist, who was born in England and raised in Nigeria, likes to re-imagine famous scenes from Western art and history... but he includes certain media and sculptural characteristics that hint at something more than just a portrait, something that reveals his "post-colonial hybrid" outlook on life (his words, not mine). The above work is his 3-D adaption of a famous portrait of the French chemist, politician, and economist named Antoine Lavoisier. The original portrait was painted by the French artist-to-the-aristocratic-stars, Jacques-Louis David, seen here ->

The brightest standout for me, when I first started researching this work back in Januray, was the costume the mannequin is wearing. Turns out, Shonibare's signature style is his use of Dutch wax batik textiles, which you might have mistaken for traditional African garb. Historically, those bright, crazily printed fabrics were originally manufactured in Holland, and shipped for trade to Indonesia. After meeting with low consumer demand there, the fabrics were consequentially exported to (aka dumped on) the poor African colonies, from whence most people assume they originally came. Shonibare replaces the stately fabrics of his aristocratic subjects with the materials his ancestors would have been wearing at the same time, thanks to the domineering economics of European colonialism. Hmm...

Another feature you might notice is the wheelchair. Antoine Lavoisier the chemist was never crippled; Yinka Shonibare likes to give all his historical figures some type of disability, as a shout-out to today's level of awareness for disabilities, and as a call for further accessibility. One month into his first year at art school, you see, Shonibare contracted a rare viral disease that left him paralyzed, and only after three years of physical therapy did he regained use of his right side. He remains disabled to this day, and contracts out the actual sewing of his costumes to a costumier. Learning all of this, I immediately wonder how history might have been changed, and what other stories we might have grown up with, if people with disabilities back then could have had the opportunity to function as equals, like he does now. How would they have changed the world? (I love how this work unfolds as you learn the story.)

The mannequin is headless, another typical feature of Shonibare's tableaux. In the Hirshhorn's work, however, this has special consequence, as Antoine Lavoisier was guillotined in the French Revolution. It becomes to me a marker of violence, of politics, and of the anonymity of crime.

Now, you know me, and how I have strong opinions about modern art. I tell you when I don't like it. I tell my bosses, too. It has been a joy to study and consider this piece, for not only does it speak out in bold, playful, and unassailing terms about race, colonialism, and disabilities, it does so with flair! It's a beautiful, arresting work. I've been waiting all five months of my internship to finally see it (I researched it in January, they didn't display it until last week!). Here's two more examples of his works, I get such a kick out of them:

^The artist himself, with a miniature mock-up of his ship-in-a-bottle, with Dutch wax-print sails, that will occupy the presitgious fourth plinth at Trafalgar Square, outside the National Gallery in London. *Because mom asked for clarification: there are four plinths, or big statue bases, the lie by the big steps that come down from the National Gallery into the Trafalgar Plaza (Yes, the plaza with the lions we tourists love to climb). Every year, they select one British artist to design a work to go on the fourth, empty, plinth. In 2010, Shonibare's giant ship will take over that spot, the first time a black British artist has been given this honor.

MOMS!

Aren't they neat?

I can't write enough about my mom, EVER, and so I won't. I'll save the thoughts in my heart and tell them to her privately. Suffice it to say, I would not, could not be the person I am without her incredible love and sustained example. Thank you, Mom. I love you. And thank you to the other wonderful women in my life who have acted as caring mentors and taught me important life lessons about service, courage, love, and faith: my aunts, grandmothers, sisters, cousins, and friends. I consider myself richly blessed in the women department. (If only I could say the same about the other department... hehe. Ahem.) Thank you all. How amazing you are.

I sifted through the Hirshhorn's files for art works bearing the title "Mother." Not one of them fit the bill for the type of indescribable beauty and awe I feel for the position of Mother. The closest my modern art museum got to the warm cuddly aura I was seeking was this little fella, hee hee:

Daughter and Mother. 1959. Bronze. Thanks, Max Ernst. You tried. But that looks like a salt shaker set. I hereby dub the long, slender, beautiful one my mom! When I was little I totally felt like that little stubby one with the dog collar thing around her neck. Little Lindsey, following her mom around, hoping she gets to look like her one day.

No, that just won't do.

A painting that comes closer to what I'm seeking (which my art history friends should all recognize):

Mary Cassatt, The Bath, 1893. An American in post-Monet Paris, Mary Cassatt is widely known for her simple, evocative, delightfully patterned pictures of domestic life. Women art historians especially appreciate her for the way she spun the tale of womens' lives in a harmonious, pleasing style (there were other women artists working around that time, just like today, who felt the need to emphasize the stifling effects of child rearing. Tsk.) Incidentally, mom, remember when I taught you about Matisse's picture of his wife, The Green Stripe? And how I told you how she looked like an Asian warrior because all things Japanese were in vogue in Paris at the end of the nineteenth century? This painting by Mary Cassatt illustrates the type of fashionable composition style that artists picked up thanks to the newly opened trade agreements with Asia. From Japanese woodblock prints they learned how to flatten the picture plane and include more things in one scene. To see what I mean, look at how the floor slopes up to meet the wall behind the mom at a rather impossible angle, to the point where it all looks like one shallow space. It makes the sweet tenderness of the scene just go BAM! right in your face. Thanks, Japan!

But that picture still won't do. I need something that lights up my eyes, that I see and go, "YEA! MOMS! THEY'RE AWESOME!"

Behold:

Eric and Ann C_________ at their wedding reception, 198...3? :) One of my most favorite pictures of my parents ever. Dad looks like a Las Vegas magician- "Presto! I just pulled the world's most beautiful woman out of thin air!" and mom delivers what I like to call her "Queen of the Universe Smile." Anyone who's met her probably recognizes it. All at once it communicates to us her modesty, her joy, how she is delighted with her life, the way she always seeks to share her happiness with others, and certainly, her beauty. It's truly a great work of art.

Things That Keep Me Calm

"Have fun in DC. It's the most wild, energetic, intellectual city, and completely obsessed with itself, but for good reason."

My dad told me that shortly before I left. Another friend warned something about "the cold-hearted and over-ambitious" I'd be up against here. Those two phrases still pop up in my mind occasionally as I continue my adventure. Grr.

As a temporary respite for such a prickly day-to-day (ps thank you my friends who encouraged me at the end of last week's post. All women, if I remember correctly. I'm grateful for your support), here are images of Things That Keep Me Calm, because my life feels like anything but at the moment:


The Giver: My current read on the Metro ride to and from work. How have I never read this book?? I've heard of it all my life, but definately never read it! It's beautiful! I love that it's written with such clarity and depth that even a child can grasp its emotional implications. Thank heavens for liberty and agency. And colors.

My Cell Phone (aka my lifeline). Notice the absence of a camera on my baby. Or even an earphone jack. Or a touchscreen. So simple! I'm very prideful about that... although I must admit, I am smitten with envy everytime I dabble with my friends' awesome iPhones, if only for their GPS ability...


The now very familiar curving walls of the Hirshhorn Galleries, where I stroll for hours at a time, acting as a sounding board for visitors while they work through their experiences with modern and contemporary art. "Modern art is a riddle, and there is no one answer." -MM (yes, I've been blog-stalking.)

Any meal eaten with chopsticks. Why? 1. They're usually 10x as aesthetically pleasing as sloppy American take-out, or the blah-nothingness I throw together for myself tiredly at the end of the day 2. Sushi, Asian fusion, and other non-western menu items fill me up without subjecting me to the customary 2500 calorie serving size I'd ingest at Chili's. 3. I miss Sarah Oh. 4. There's something contemplative and peaceful required of you when you eat with chopsticks. No wonder ninjas are so wise.

Sunshine. Makes this desert girl a happy camper. (Haven't seen any for a while, it's been raining for what feels like a week straight... and I STILL don't own an umbrella!)

Self-explanatory. Or is it? My friends, this is the Mormon Temple in DC. We go there to do service, and every tiny aspect of it, be it the clothes we wear (simple white, a great equalizer), the ceremonies we participate in, or the feeling it brings you (clarity, peace) helps bring us closer to our loving God. Truly a little gateway to heaven.

My first love in DC: The metro system. Arched, soft-grid ceilings; a gently lit, hexagon-tiled floor; incredible daily people watching... and the roller-coaster-like rush and boom sounds of the constant influx of speeding trains. It's glorious. PS. the Foggy-Bottom/GWU stop is one I'll frequent a lot when and if I start my Master's in the fall. Hee hee.

Other calming influences without photos:

~ Counting my blessings.
~ Service.

~ Blogging. (D@#% it, I think I'm used to that word! My gosh I used to hate it!)
~ Watching the Caps hockey playoffs from the comfort of a friends' Lovesac.

~ Institute.

~ My big baggy BYU sweats (6 years old and I STILL offer a silent prayer of thanks to the universe everytime I pull them on.)

~ Formalist art. There's nothing to it but lines, colors, and shapes. Google Frank Stella and Morris Louis if you want a peek.

Elegant Stress

Lindsey is out of the frying pan and into the fire. I think there's a rock and a hard place in there, too. What a week and a half!

To recap: I went back to Provo last week to walk across the stage and receive my shining white diploma cover (I was mailed the diploma itself in January :) I'm on the last month of my internship at the Hirshhorn. I didn't get the job that I coveted here (though I gave it an incredible shot and it felt good to try. And one of the senior staff members sent me a kind email basically telling me, "Good game. Try again after you get a couple years' experience under your belt.") I got into my #1 pick for grad school, The George Washington University's Art History Master's program. I can start in the fall. But I am really getting disconcerted by the level of debt my studies will accrue, and the fact that there is absolutely no promise of employment, or hire-ability (especially not in this economic climate) once I graduate. The idea of taking a full-time job and hugging tight to its stable salary and health insurance coverage winks alluringly my way.

Be timid, employed, and resourceful. Follow your dreams and get wildly into debt. Oh what a tangled web we weave... when first our dreams we try to achieve!! Any advice, family?

Other thoughts and ideas bouncing around the fire with me: Virginia is beautiful in the spring. Greener that any place I've ever lived in. Truly, this is the first location I can ever remember where I can watch things grow, and grow wildly, without a human hand begging them forward. Daffodils, my favorite flowers, dot every long stretch of grass that runs intermittently alongside the 395 beltway. There are four trees outside my third floor window (they’re my morning breakfast companions). Two weeks ago they all flowered pink, and when I came home from Utah they had switched to a full-bodied, emerald green foliage. I recently read in one of my many art reviews (or was it a political essay? Aah I absorb so many of both out here!) how culture and science have replaced a connection with nature and religiosity in the modern life. SUCH A SHAME!

Elegant Stress. That's what I named this post. The present, er MY present, is one giant kaleidoscope of beauty, temptation, clarity, dreams, fragility, loneliness, AWESOME memories, glamour, frustration, and opportunity! Somewhere in there is a lot of love, but it's really hard to feel it out here in DC sometimes. Now I know, I know… stop whining!!! I'm incredibly thankful for my time in Provo, and all the playtime I got with family and my amazing friends there! And I am so grateful that I have exciting opportunities headed my way. I just need to decide, and enjoy the ride. In Provo I drank in the now-rare experience of being surrounded by people who share my ideals, who love life the way I do and are working hard and calling on God the same way I am. I ran around a dark cabin playing sardines with my friends for hours on end. I got to hug almost all of my BFFs, and I got to dance with all the Browns twice! Once at my graduation party (Thanks Aunt Betty and Uncle Gary! As always, you’re AMAZING!) and once at Jonathan’s wedding (congrats!). There’s something magical and timeless about being around people who will buy me a mug just because they think the cute saying on it resembles my handwriting. Or who will give me a card they bought three years ago because they noticed it made fun of art history degrees. Hee hee- I love you all!

And then I fly back to DC, and the warm fuzzy of Provo evaporates. Underdog, Lindsey! Underdog! You’ve got to fight! Immediately I am inundated with thoughts about how much there is to despise about modern life-- networking, the hideous strappy platforms currently in vogue, Obama, Obamamaniacs, Blackberrys, Bono’s ineffectual ONE campaign, Matthew Barney’s happenings in LA that ended up getting some of the crowd hurt, energy price hikes, Statist control of Congress, etc etc etc!! Boo!

Elegant, modern stress. I’m sorry. As a wise conservative once said, “Calamity is unhappily the usual season of reflection,” and I am no stranger to that tendency. ODviously. (What movie??) But as another conservative recently said (in bumper sticker form):

Annoy a Liberal: Work Hard and Be Happy!

Hee hee… no wonder the 19th century saw a resurgence of Utopian and escapist landscapes. Artists were sick of watching their countrysides turn into smoke-belching factories, as the Industrial Revolution altered Europe forever. And so they turned their paintbrushes into “Remember when…” sticks and waved them around until they were completely surrounded by cutesy pictures of peasants and ponds. Heaven forbid contemporary art do that. They’re certainly doing something these days. I don’t want to do a new artwork today. No more art. Nope, I won’t go there. I’m too tired. It’s too confusing out there…

Hee hee. Bah Humbug.

Lucas Samaras, Book No. 6 ("Treasures of the Metropolitan"), 1962. Straight pins, glue, and book in a plexiglass case on wood base.

That’s a lot of pins. And a painful read. Why do I get the feeling this artist shares my current distaste? (notice the title- why would he have chosen to cover a book from America’s most prestigious art museum with spikey pins?? Curious…)

Life is Good.

PS photos of my fabulous graduation to follow shortly. Once I upload them to my shiney new-ish work laptop. :) Have the best day ever.

Underdogs

My wee tiny computer at work died today. I turned it on, it looked like all was going well, running through a couple of normal boot-up procedures, and then... it suddenly blinks the dreaded blue screen of death --{Fatal Error}--. I have seen that screen a depressing amount of times since I started college (this will be the 4th computer I have inadvertently burnt to a crisp. What am I doing wrong??)

The remains of my shiny, healthy-looking computer have mocked me all morning; somewhere in that sad little heap is all my files, everything I've worked on for the past four months. Irretrievable. Lost, like the gold plates or Amelia Earhart. Which means that for the rest of today I am relegated to the wizened old computer at the back of the cramped Hirshhorn library. Yet another reminder that I am the bottom rung, the pressure point under the high heel of my industry. I am without glamour, without the ability to procure a new computer, and without much sympathy from any of the paid employees. Ah the glorious life of an intern!

It all makes sense, though, in a way; I've been pondering all week about what it means to be an underdog. Last November I remember feeling unusually confident as I watched CNN's coverage of the presidential election results. "It's all right," I remarked to my brother and dad and anyone else who seemed profoundly disappointed by the implications of the elections. "I fight better when I'm the underdog, anyways."

And it's true. That's always been how I operate. My bestest internet friend, Dictionary.com, defines an Underdog as, "One that is expected to lose a contest or struggle, as in sports or politics; One that is at a disadvantage." Whenever I think of underdogs, images of the various kids from The Sandlot flash through my mind. I am always attracted to any person/place/thing/ or cause that is disadvantaged yet has all the heart and smarts, like those kids did. Only 1 out of every 4 people in the world is an introvert, did you know that? I consider myself one of the 25%. I've striven all my life to shed the vestiges of being shy, but I don't think I'll ever quite make it. But it's ok! The fact that I am aware of my limitations, and that I know I have to work to befriend others, makes my true friendships all the more valuable to me.

Yesterday, American conservatives threw over 700 Tea Parties across the nation, protesting the spend-and-tax profligacy of the current administration. Most of them were protesting for the first time in their lives. Most major news networks ignored the protests, other than screening a couple of shots of the more loony participants. I loved this event! I am proud of them, and excited to see those with sense stomping into the wonderful field of grassroots activism. Good luck to them, and to us all. Can you tell my tenure in DC has made me increasingly political? I used to have a strict No Politics Among Friends rule, but it's almost gone. Except how I still try first and foremost to maintain peace and respect in these conversations (reasonably possible, I've discovered). Just call me utopian, I don't care...

Earlier this week the DC Nationals baseball team almost-- almost-- clinched a victory over the reigning world champs, the Phillies. The team (which I had never heard of before I moved here, BUT NOW LOVE WHOLEHEARTEDLY) is in dire need of a pick-me-up. I am pretty sure that my added support will produce a fairy-tale ending for these dismal underdogs. Yay Nats! I'm adding attendance to a couple of their home games to my list of things to do while I'm here.

The list of Lindsey's beloved underdogs goes on and on: Michael Scott Paper Company, Belgium, works on paper including intaglio and engraving (no one ever pays good enough attention to artworks you actually have to examine!), Mormon culture (hee hee... mom pants and cub scouts forever!) People who never dye their hair, people who think sky-diving is NOT that attractive of a life event, people who refrain from purchasing $200 jeans, people who didn't even know there WERE $200 jeans, Hercules, PBS, T. C. Williams High School's 1971 football team (the one portrayed in one of my favorite movies, Remember the Titans)...

... Nope, there's more. I cheer for Jack Johnson, not mainstream but better than anyone who ever picked up a guitar. I look up to Henry Ossawa Tanner (see my January post Guess What?? if you don't know who he is.) I read in the scriptures about TONS of prophets who were stoned, crucified, ejected, and ignored as they told their friends about God's will. I study art to learn who in history has had an interesting journey, and who has produced art that was different than everyone else's... and why.

I'm championing the underdog cause, if such a thing is possible. As long as I believe it is the correct cause. I think that's part of the whole appeal of underdogs; unitedly they proclaim, "I don't care what the majority thinks, I'm doing this my own way and thinking my own thoughts!" and their stories and examples give us courage to do likewise.
Jeff Koons, Puppy, 1992. 43 feet tall, made out of steel scaffolding, 25 tons of soil, an interior irrigation system, and 70,000 FLOWERS! Standing outside NYC's Rockefeller Center in 2000.

Woot woot.

*Addendum: it should be noted that on occasion, an underdog is picked up and championed by the majority. By so doing it sheds its underdogism and becomes a fad. Then, sadly, I have to leave it behind. I hate when this happens. I loved The Format and Maroon 5, then they got big. I rarely listen to either now. I used to be the only person I knew who liked wearing grey clothes (it's my favorite color... for secret, cheerful reasons). Now "charcoal" is one of the mainstays of fashion. BOOOO! And once upon a time I liked BYU sports... oh wait, they still have a couple hills to climb... I'm still a fan :)

Happy Easter!

Bizzarely, I don't ever remember an Easter before this one where I actually wished and was wished a "Happy Easter," in the same way you wish people a Merry Christmas. I was so appreciative of the many wonderful friends and family (and facebookers :) who offered me this little greeting throughout the week! And I was very grateful to enjoy once more the fantastical feelings of family love as I played with Mom, Dad, Marie, and Katie, who came to visit me starting on General Conference Sunday. I was so happy to watch them explore my East Coast world (although sometimes I felt like a monkey in a zoo-- only my adorable family would find it exciting to accompany me on my morning bus and metro ride to work at 8:30 am. Hee hee!) All throughout the week I showed them what East Coast adventures look like, and I'm thinking we had a rocking time. I felt unusually home-sicky and little girly when they left. Thankfully, today, wonderful today, had a sweet Easter Sabbath church service and dinner with friends that brought me back up to snuff and got me ready for another crazy week in the heart of the nation. The new director of the Hirshhorn starts work tomorrow; I look forward to watching the entire staff buzz around in an uproar. But this is besides the ultimate point I wanted to address in my post this evening.

I just wanted to let you know that I believe in Jesus Christ. I adore him, and am so thankful for his example and ultimately, his sacrifice. I am always amazed at the immediate calmness that floods my tempestuous little soul whenever I turn to the New Testament or Doctrine and Covenants or Book of Mormon to read about his amazingly simple, brave, and compassionate works, and to read his righteous words, spanning from 2,000 years ago in an unenlightened Israel until today. I believe that he asks me to follow him, keep his commandments, and to make and honor covenants with him. And I believe that when we do this, and give our all to him (which will not be a perfect offering, thank heavens he knows that), he will make up the difference, and someday bring us back to our Heavenly Father, the most glorious gift imaginable!! I believe that he rose from the tomb after lying there for three days, and thereby facilitated the eventual resurrection of all mankind. That fact still blows my mind. I look forward to the day when he will bring peace, equity, and truth to our world for the final and most wonderful time.

I often feel like I don't know him enough. I wonder what he would say to me if we sat down to talk, or if he called me like any of my beloved friends do on occasion (haha- tiny sidenote- my roommate Breanna has a friend Jesus, "Hey-zoos," in her phone, and she says she always jumps a little when his name pops up on her caller id. Funny). I once asked my former Stake President in Provo how he thought we could best get to know this Savior who we profess to be the center of our religion. His suggestion was to look for him in the symbolic ordinances of the temple, and to do the kind of works he would be doing in our place. Serve, in other words. Be kind. Be clean. Be smart. Be true. Be humble. Be prayerful. And you will understand who he is all the more. I am grateful for his counsel. I think he's right.

I just wanted to bear my testimony of that particularly wonderful Son of God for a moment. And now, share a work of art with you all:

Gethsemane, James C. Christensen (1942- ), Acrylic on canvas.

"And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him." Luke 22:43

In an effort to understand the atonement, the artist was taken with the above scripture which states that an angel appeared to Jesus in the garden to strengthen him. Here, Christensen has placed the angel just behind the Christ figure as if he is about to place his hands on the Savior’s head and pronounce a priesthood blessing. The extreme darkness of this painting emphasizes the anguish of the garden experience.
James Christensen, a retired professor of art at Brigham Young University, began his career as an illustrator. Today he is considered one of the premier fantasy artists in the nation.

I mined Google for one of my favorite images of Christ by the artist Ron Richmond, but couldn't find it, and instead found this one and decided it'll do for now. The explanatory text beneath it came from http://www.meridianmagazine.com/arts/010417living2.html There are quite a few other intriguing contemporary images of Christ on that site worth contemplating if you have the time (including the one at the top of this post by my second-coming-BFF Minerva Teichert... even though we were born a century apart, I came to know her last year while I organized her personal papers in the BYU Special Collections Library. She's one of my heros).

BUT. Back to the point. I love this picture of Gethsemane because it isn't pretty. It isn't sweet. For a moment you don't feel there is any light coming out of it. The Savior took upon him the pain, anguish, and punishment of every person in the history "so that he may know how to succor his people." It was not a fun ride for him. In fact, it was the worst ride in history. Someone in conference stated that Christ could have chosen to understand the feelings of all others merely through revelation, if he so desired, but he wanted instead to gain empathy for his children by experiencing all their miseries himself. That is love.

Happy Easter my friends.

I Got Mail

Which means... I get to stay in DC!!! George Washington University, Graduate Class of 2011... ish. I'll work out the details of my future work and school balancing act later. But for now, PARTY!!!! And thankfulness. I feel very much looked after this week.

Here's a couple other pictures of my life in the District and NOVA (which I've only recently figured out means the District of Columbia and NOrthern VirginiA):

At the base of a Rodin sculpture in the Hirshhorn Sculpture Garden

This poster taunts me everyday, plastered to the top of the escalators at my subway stop: that's totally me at the bottom of the heel. Intern. Practically a dirty word. One of these days... I'll move up!

Annual Kite Festival on the Nationa Mall... kind of a dreary day, but still a sight to be seen!

Me and the tiny man-boy drummer from Garotas Suecas (last weekend's Brasilian band)

Me and me roommate Breanna. We're pretty excited. Our FHE activity (I hate saying that word when I'm 23...) was going to see the cherry blossoms at the Jefferson Memorial, and our FHE treats were cupcakes with tiny cherries on them!!! We have a very great, very clever mommy.

Normal face.

Paying homage to T. Jeff and his magnificent Declaration of Independence

Mike, this one's for you...

I went to see a Brazilian garage band perform in the District this weekend- it was basically the perfect concert. Small venue, great sound mixing, a perfect amount of crazy-looking costumes(my favorite was the girl's haircut: chin length curly bleached hair, with a single two-inch wide section that extended below her shoulder). They played really HAPPY rock music, reminding me of the Ocean's Eleven soundtrack... see music video below. I was tapping my toe and smiling the whole time. And the whole thing was in Portugese!!! Proving in an unusual way the old traveller's adage that you don't have to speak the same language to enjoy someone's company or understand their heart. (Well, ok, it helped after the concert that they all spoke English. I met the drummer afterwards, who is NINETEEN!!!! And sooo talented! and he sold me a CD).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFSZWESSUH8

Time ticks on...

I missed someone this week. Not a particular someone, but just a vague, “My gosh! Where IS _____ when you need them??” feeling. Very annoying. I rotated various friends and family members’ faces through my mind, trying to figure out who it was I was missing, and I discovered that I am sadly missing not so much a person as an awful lot of my “signature adventures,” which are only plausible and fun when and IF they include certain beloved people. Ah the drawbacks of moving across the country to explore new things. Gotta forge new "signatures."

STILL, never one to be sensible and focused on the here-and-now (especially not at 4:45 pm on Thursday, still stuck at work and more than 24 hours away from the weekend), I present a random list of Lindsey and _____’s most excellent adventures from back-in-the-day. Guys…. I want you back.

“My gosh! Where is Marcus when you need him??” I would like to magically un-missionary Marcus for a little bit so we can hang out in his poster-covered room. I can make fun of his sword collection until he threatens to impale me, after which we will discuss what archetypes J. K. Rowling used in Harry Potter (Dumbledore=Gandalf=Merlin). Then we’ll march downstairs and sneak fruit snacks right out from under mom’s nose. We think we’re so sly.

“My gosh! Where is Spencer when you need him??” I would like to see Besso in Provo right now, so that I may charitably allow him to borrow my truck, so that he may charitably take out a girl tonight. And then, in preparation for wooing said girl, I will help Spenc color-coordinate his clothes (White shoes do not match brown sweater!!!! You know this!)

“My gosh! Where are my cousins when you need them??” I want to import some extended family, so that we may feast on magical Mormony foods and pass around a plethora of cute babies! And then we can all listen in rapt attention to Breann’s latest boy story. Or sing Broadway. Yeeeaaa… Graduation BBQ at Aunt Betty’s, in T minus one month! I can’t wait!

There are many more faces and signature adventures I could write about, but that would take a day and night and a day, so I’ll stop there. Riding the Chinatown bus home from NY last Sunday, I sat next to the coolest girl, Meredith, who told me about her newest paradigm shift. She’s just turned 27, and realized there are no more excuses. “You can only sit in a bar with your best friends and get hammered so many weekends,” she explained, “before you realize that you need to choose a different path for yourself alone. You can go out on limbs. You can make new mistakes and find new love and live an unexpected life.”

I certainly appreciated the reminder. There are no more excuses. Before I leave DC, I need to:
-Eat at Ben’s Chili Bowl
-Inspect Mt. Vernon for additional National-Treasure-like secret tunnels. Preferably find and kiss Nicolas Cage while I’m at it.
-Run some kind of race- like a 5 or 10k for some idiot cause I’ve never heard of. Ooh I just googled DC runs and I think I found the winner: the Dismal Swamp Stomp Half-Marathon! Now where are my Nike's?
-Go on a glamorous date with a boy to the symphony or something, and make him stammer cuz I look pretty (haha.... pretty different) all dressed up (memo to the judgemental: that’s not being vain, that’s something every girl dreams of. See Ever After, She’s All That, A Walk to Remember, Enchanted, Back to the Future, and every prom picture ever taken as proof)
-Get my hair back to its much nicer summer-blondeness (it’s time to bust out the lemon juice and sit in the sun… come on, spring! Hurry up! Seriously, this East Coast intellectual stimulation is barely worth the miserable morning freezefest)
-Get in a fight or in trouble (preferably have to be rescued)
-Eat a Georgetown cupcake, which is apparently God's gift to sweet-tooths... sweet-teeth?
-Watch a foreign film, or any film, long-distance with Jessica and Sarah (cross-country comrades!)
- Take a walk around the national monuments at twilight, holding someone’s hand
- Climb as high as I can get in the National Cathedral
- Picnic with new friends
- Got to a concert at the 9:30 Club- preferably a rap concert. I love being white. Can I say that if I immediately add that I adore black people? My security guard friends tell me yes… just don’t say it too loudly on the street.
- Pick up weaving or pottery or some really exclusive extinct craft, so that every time I meet people and they ask, “So, do you DO art yourself?” I can put on a serious face and say, “Yes. I am very into potting.” Hahaha. I want to be like Wee.
- Continue to be a nice genuine person, even if being mean or aloof supposedly gets you places.
- Make MONEY!!!
- Eat an entire double batch of oatmeal cookie dough… oh, wait, check! Done!
- Get lost on the subway- check! Double done!
- Go to grad school
-Meet the love of my life

Fin

Recently we had the Israeli filmmaker Ori Gersht come give a lecture with the Embassy of Israel at the Hirshhorn. He's famous for his "Big Bang" films- we have two on view right now. For a minute or two you are watching this "still life" film on a flat screen, of pomegranates, lettuce, or flowers, arranged against a dark background, with a weird rumbling sound going on (the first time I watched it I thought it was just the sound of the escalators behind me). Then, in each film, out of no where, the still life explodes! In slow motion! (though it still makes me jump every time I watch it cuz the rumbling noise turns into a deafening crash). Though you hadn't realized it, the flowers had been rigged with explosives (or in the case of the pomegranate, a bullet is fired off screen and cuts through the fruit, splashing it open). You are left watching the detritus scraps of life float through the air and finally settle on the ground with yawning, rustling bass-level thumps. It's genius.

Vanitas is an old genre of painting dating back to the Northern Renaissance. Artists would paint still life's of perishable items in various states of decay, as a reminder that not all things beautiful are lasting ("beware vanity!" in other words). Ori Gersht recycles that idea, and adds in the unexpected element of unexplained destruction. By doing so, he asks us to contemplate the senseless violence that occurs in our modern society. Today's tragedy is not that things die and decay. Today's tragedy is that people die, morals decay, and beauty and innocence are obliterated before their time, as the result of cruelty, greed, and irrational violence. I've been meaning to show you this one for a while, I think it's such an interesting modern twist on a timeless idea (and you all should know by now how much I like modern twists). Notice in the still how the smoke from the explosion is just creeping up behind the flowers. And you would not believe how cool it is to watch the destruction advance; you see some flowers immediately incinerated while others retain their shapes for a few seconds, before also succumbing. It was delightful to hear the artist speak (he was very reserved and soft-spoken, with an accent) and it was so interesting to watch his behind the scene videos. The production of a Big Bang film takes so much time, and the actual event is so lightning fast in reality. Yet the final version transforms a split-second sadness into something so beautiful, slow, and deliberate. It's one of the most arresting works in the galleries.

NY Adventure Pictures

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2249096&id=17806759&l=698f145871

I went and had mucho adventures in New York this weekend. Here are some pictures of said escapades for you to enjoy. Have a great week! Congrats Lieren and Kent, you're parents!!!!!