20th Century Art as History

The Birth of Modern Art: a 20th Century Historical Reflecting Glass

In a time of economic uncertainty one of the first areas of society to suffer is that of the arts, there seems to be a notion that art is a luxury that cannot be supported when times are hard. But when one looks at the massive shift in the art movement in the 20th Century and how it reflects the very evolution of the social and political developments of the period one might wonder why the metamorphosis of art isn’t more readily used as a biography of the modern world and valued as a form of primary source material in the study of 20th Century history.

By the beginning of the 1900’s a cultural movement had taken hold that rejected the traditional and embraced the newness of the mechanical as well as industrial revolutions. Artists under the influence of the modernist movement turned away from the styles and forms of the past and presented new ideas and new forms in which to express themselves, considering these innovations more reflective of their advancing society (Modernism www.artandpopularculture.com). With the close of the 19th Century, the effects of such modernist movements as Realism, Impressionism, and the beginnings of Expressionism, were seen in the fierce challenge of the “avant-garde” artists against the established conception and production of art. In describing the contribution of these forward thinking artists art historian Fred Kleiner writes:

The avant-garde rejected the classical, academic, and traditional and zealously explored the premises and formal qualities of painting,sculpture and other media…Although the general public found avant-garde art incomprehensible the principle underlying late 19th century modernism appealed to increasing numbers of artists as the 20th century dawned… [Modernism] became a major force during the first half of the 20th century and beyond (Kleiner 687).

While artists challenged the rules of traditional post-Renaissance artistry, the world was rapidly shifting as a result of innovation in both technological as well as intellectual fields. Like the avant-garde artists who shaped the birth and development of 20th century art, the first decade of the 20th century offered up great accomplishments that would forever alter human existence. In 1900, Sigmund Freud introduced his theories regarding the complexities of the human mind in his seminal work The Interpretation of Dreams. Just 3 years later the Wright brothers accomplished first flight in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, and that same year the first silent movie was released. It was in 1905 that Albert Einstein changed the way people would understand the mechanics of certain scientific principles with his Theory of Relativity, challenging the scientific community’s understanding of movement and time as codified since the days of Sir Isaac Newton. (Rosenberg www.about.com).

It is in the dawn of the 20th century that the influences of this new world of technological advances and new human understanding becomes reflected not just in what artists create to represent their world but also how they do it as well. A wholly unique understanding of the purposes of an artist not just as the storyteller but character in the story as well began to permeate into the arts with the Expressionist movement, led by Van Gogh in the late 1800s and continuing in Germany well into the 1900s. The Expressionists turned away from the academic standards of their day and made the artist’s individual emotional experience with the chosen subject their goal as opposed to the standard of creating a non-subjective rendering of what was being painted. They also utilized as style of painting which would heighten the intensity of the viewing experience by choice of colors and seemingly eratic brushstrokes (Tate Collection Glossary www.tate.org.uk). The focus on portraying an image on an internal and emotional level established a break with traditional expectations of an art revolving around clean technique and from, paving the way for the innovations we now call 20th century art.

Greatly influenced by their rapidly changing world and percolating in the advances of the early 1900s, artists like Pablos Picasso looked at the art of the past and focused on reflecting their world in forms representing the way the mind processed them, more multidimensional than a canvass seeminlgy allowed for. With the introduction of Cubism in 1908 Piccaso and fellow artist George Braques sought to produce work that offered simultaneous and yet differing perspectives of a subject. Classical beauty held no value in a movement defined by its geometric analysis and presentation of objects in a seemingly distorted form. The key was to reproduce the subject not as the eye beholds it but as the mind processes it, in shapes and angles.

Cubism was a new way of representing reality in art…Picasso and Braques began to bring different views of the object, together in the picture on the surface….the object became increasingly fragmented and the paintings became increasingly abstract. They countered this by incorporating words and then real elements, like newspapers, to reperesent themselves. This was the start of one of
the most important ideas in modern art, that you can use real things directly in art (Tate Collection Glossary).

Just as the world was beginning to look at itself in new ways because of the contributions of the Wright brothers, Freud, and Einstein, so too artists began to look at how modern thought could and should shape the evolution of form in their work. With Cubism, art took a significant turn in its development not only because of its abtract representation of forms from the realm of the seen in a “composition of shapes” but also because of the global history which so profoundly influenced it (Kleiner 697).

Much of the progress made in art during the early 20th century is a direct reflection of the world political stage which it grew from. Cubism, Picasso in particular, was inspired by the traditional works of non-western cultures, the so-called primitive arts and sculpture of aboriginal Americans, Africans, and the Oceanic peoples. Due to the pattern of imperialism that dominated the 19th century, by the start of the 20th century impressive collections and exhibits of native artifacts were on display throughout Europe and even managed to cross the ocean to the United States. These items, which were to inspire the opening art movements of the 20th century were a significant reminder of the carving up of the African continent between England, France, Belgium, Holland , Germany, Spain and Portugal and the continuing colonial presence of the Unites States, France and Holland in the Pacific. The many exhibitions of collected folk treasures, which so affected artists like Pablo Piccaso, were seen by the general public as objects of curiosity that reflected a superstitious and inferior society. The frequent portrayal of what seemed to be polytheistic gods or supernatural animals in the collected relics sharpened the general sense that the countries from which these items came desperately needed to be civilized by their colonial benefactors. While much of the Western world viewed these glaring displays of imperialistic appropriation as clear proof of the continuing necessity of colonialism the artists inspired by the cultural masterpieces took delight in the break in perspective they offered from the art of the past (Kleiner 696).

In the birth and development of Cubism a completely new conceptualization of not just technique and form came into being but a unprecedented manner of reflecting the world in which the artist lived. Observers of the social, political, and technological changes rushing by, artists like Picasso and Braques channeled their undertsanding and interpretations into the development of a revolution in art to parallel the revolutions in science and industry. The ability of the artist to reproduce reality in a form which defied all post Renaissance standards, breaking the barriers of understanding and meaning in regards to aesthetics opening up the field to the movements to come. Movements as diverse as Dada, Abtract, Kinetic Art, and Abstract Expressionism would benefit from the pioneering work of the Cubists.

In looking back at the history of art, particularly in the birth of modern art , and understanding not only its influence on the cultural character of the modern world but its reflection of the spirit of that same world it seems rather obvious that for an educated society that defines itself by the progress it has made, the best way to insure a well rounded perspective on modernity is in the encourgament of future great artists.

The Battle of the Great Loves

So one of these photos may need no explanation for most. Unfortunately, that is most likely the second one: Twilight lovers Bella and Edward. The image on top is a rendering of one of literature's most supernal couples: Penelope and Odysseus. In contemplating the nature of the love portrayed in these two wildly passionate tales it seems glaringly obvious that the fantasy and fluff of the Bella-Edward flame is but a spark in comparison to the fire of Penelope and Odysseus'.

I have read the complete series of the Twilight Saga several times and just recently enjoyed watching the latest installment in the film adaptations. While the stories are thoroughly entertaining there does seem to be some question in my mind regarding the reflection these relationships offer of the nature of love, lust,and commitment. For some inexplicable reason studying the Homeric masterpiece, The Odyssey, has greatly refined my thoughts on the potency of the saga created by Stephenie Meyer. I do not claim to despise what I once found so entertaining, for I feel as if the world of Twilight offers an escape from reality and allows for a few hours of sheer mindless enjoyement, equivalent to the pleasure some may find in video games or fantasy sports. But when I hear comments like : Twilight is a story that appeals to girls and women as the ultimate romance, I admit I cringe at not just the sweeping generalization but also at the possibility of there being any truth in such a barb.

So I think those of us who do appreciate the films/books need to ask ourselves what it is about the story that captivates us so? And when putting the Bella-Edward relationship up against the strength of, for example, the Penelope-Odysseus dynamic what are our standards for what we define as romantic. The plain truth is Bella can't hold a candle to Penelope, but maybe that's why so many of us like her. She is the girl next door, the new girl in school, the girl who just wants to fit in but never feels like she does. Penelope is thoughtful in her actions, devoted to her husband who has been gone for almost 20 years and believed to be dead, and a fine manipulator of the situation in the most trying of circumstances. She is tender and tough all at the same time. In her we see the perfect mate to Odysseus ,the hero who is buffeted by the anger of Poseidon for almost 9 years after he sets sail from home at the close of the Trojan war. There is depth and a form of loyalty and longing for one another thoughout the subtext of the Odyssey.

I found in my recent viewing of Twilight: Eclipse, I could not determine what it was about either Bella or Edward that kept them together after the initial attraction, the undescribable magnetism that seeminlgy bound them together. There lies the flaw. In neither of their characters can I find anything that describes a deep and abiding connection that would have assured fidlelity and devotion preventing a clearly inappropriate triangle from growing into an inner struggle and form of betrayal. Then again would there be a story to tell if it had been written any other way? Food for thought.

the journey to the center of the heart

What more can be said than this picture expresses. She is my sister. We have fought. Wow have we had our fights. We have cried. Wow have we laughed so hard we cried and cried so hard we laughed. We have seen the best and the worst in one another but always forgive the worst and remind each other of the best. If I had a million dollars right now it would be hers without hesitation. But I don't. All I can do is continue to plead with everyone I know to help Danielle Gomez to continue her fight against Breast Cancer by going to www.supportdanielle.org.

Who does not thank for little will not thank for much. ~Estonian Prove

"Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful."- Shakyamuni


So I of course have several posts pending from previous dates, but I felt that it was important for me to insure the timely posting of this blog entry on this day. I am spending Thanksgiving alone. By choice. I just couldn't imagine stuffing myself on cranberry covered turkey and gravy moat filled mashed potatoes while my sister was traveling two hours each way for her chemotherapy.In past years, Thanksgiving has been a day I either spent being taken care of by my second family, the Chadwicks; or Danielle, mom, and I would get our little Boston Market Thanksgiving meals and spend the day laughing until we cried, or in mom's case dashed to the bathroom. Today I am profoundly appreciative for the wonderful friends and family that God has mercifully placed in my life to remind me that He knows who I am and what I need. I am grateful for the beauty of forgiveness and all the ways it has reverbrated in my life. Relationships I never thought would be possible to heal have been strengthened through the power of that principle. I have seen the miraculous power of forgiveness in the examples of so many friends of differing beliefs and backgrounds that I know I am richly blessed to live in a place where I can learn and grow from wonderful people who in their own ways are somehow different from me.Today I am indebted to the countless friends and loved ones who have taken up Danielle's cause so passionately and mercifully. Today I am unceasingly thankful for a family of faith, hope, and charity. For parents who scrimped and sacrificed their entire lives to give us a better one. Who taught us the value of working hard and doing your best and when you fall short to never give up. While I am still struggling with alot of those things I am eternally grateful for a family and friends who look beyond the me as I am and help me to work towards the me I want to become. So while I am spending this day in what may seem to the world as an anti-social manner I can honestly say the opportunity to meditate in solitude on the myriad of blessings one has received on one's life is fare better than a post-meal Turkey coma. At least this year....

"...it's all Greek to me...." - Shakespeare

"I cannot rest from travel;

I will drink Life to the lees.

All times I have enjoy'd

Greatly, have suffer'd greatly,

both with those

That loved me, and alone;"


Ulysses by Alfred Tennyson

The photo above represents one of the most amazing exhibits my eyes have been fortunate enough to view: the Elgin Marbles, British Museum,England. I was taken aback by the grandeur and history behind these glorious pieces of ancient greek art and architecture. To imagine the moments in ancient history these relics have been witness to gives me chills even when simply studying their photograph. In studying Homer's Odyssey and remembering my visit to the magnificent British Museum, where the Rosetta Stone also resides,my innate wanderlust creeps up in me and makes me long to travel, to explore the world and its infinite history and diversity, to learn the language and lifestyles of those whose heritage spans back to the dawn of time. I never could understand those who never left their own town let alone their own country. To explore the joys and sorrows of life so universal and yet so individually enacted in every corner of the world seems to me to be the purest way to expand the evolving self into a compassionate and tolerant individual, still firm on one's beliefs yet open to learning and understanding the richness found in the differences of others.

The Role of Women in Homer's Iliad

The Honor of Men, The Subjugation of Women

Throughout history woman has been depicted as the possession of man, the maven of sexual wiles, the troublemaker, as well as the weaker vessel; within the pages of Homer’s Iliad all of these qualities abound. When the women of the Iliad are not being fought over as sexual prizes, they are relegated to domestic fulfillment. A woman’s role in Homeric society was to be subordinate to the men either as his domestic support or his sexual property, perhaps even both. The significance of woman as property frequently sets men at odds with each other and is directly related to their status as a heroic warrior. And despite the so-called equalizing of the sexes, the view of women implied in the tale of the wrath of Achilles, continues to reverberate in today’s post-modern world.


From the beginning, it is understood that this ten year battle between the Greeks and Trojans is a direct result of the infidelity of Helen. This fact is alluded to several times throughout the epic poem. During their fiery argument over how to placate Apollo in Book I Achilles furiously explains to Agamemnon and audience that he has no personal grudge against the Trojans but has fought voraciously, “to win your honor and Menelaos’ from the Trojans” (Book I. 159) and then later when emissaries are sent by Agamemnon to placate Achilles’ anger he explains the nature of that honor:”and why was it the son of Atreus assembled and led here these people? Was it not for the sake of lovely-haired Helen? (Book IV.338-339). Isn’t all of this over the possession of a beautiful woman?


Indeed, the major rift between Agamemnon and the great warrior Achilles’ is the result of the dispute over two women, Chrysies and Briseis. When Achilles suggests that Agamemnon return his prize ,Chrysies, to her father, and oracle of Apollo, the son of Atreus becomes enraged and lashes out at Achilles: “…nothing excellent have you said nor ever accomplished” (Book I.108) and then explains that the reason he had refused to return her to her father, even after the promise of a ransom, was because he “wish[ed] greatly to have her in my own home; since I like her better than Klytaimestra” his wife. He continues,”for in truth she is in no way inferior, neither in build nor stature nor wit, not in accomplishment. Still I am willing to give her back, if such is the best way” (Book I.112-116). As a recompense for his loss, Agamemnon requires Achilles give up his prize, Briseis who Agamemnon gave to him “as a geras, war prize, after Akhilles had killed her parents.” (Roisman 2). As Helen Roisman points out, the decision of what was to happen to either woman did not involve her at all as evidenced by the fact there is no dialogue to represent what their wishes may have been ( 2), although in Book I line 348 Briseis is not a willing participant in this transaction. Achilles does not battle for the prize which he had rightfully earned when men come to retrieve Briseis, but weeping he does plead with his mother, the demi-goddess Thetis, to “grant me honour at least…[since] powerful Agamemnon has dishonored me…he has taken away my prize and keeps it”(Book I.349-356). While his sorrow at the loss of this woman implies a deep attachment, the anger Achilles harbors throughout the Iliad stems from the great insult to his honor by Agamemnon represented by the loss of his “property”, Briseis. As Sarah Pomeroy explains it:

In an atmosphere of fierce competition among men, women
were viewed symbolically and literally as properties- the prizes
of contests and the spoils of conquests- and domination over them
increased the male’s prestige. (25)


The certain belief of women as property for the pleasures of men is again implied in Hektor’s conversation with his wife, Andromache in Book VI. The reluctant hero explains to his wife the reason he continues to fight so fiercely is because he fears what will happen if they lose. He does not fear death so much as he does, “the thought of you (Andromache) when some bronze-armoured Achaian leads you off, taking away your day of liberty in tears….but may I be dead and the piled earth hide me under before I hear you crying and know by this that they drag you captive”(454-465). Why does Hektor fear this more than anything? Because he knows that once he is not around to protect her, his loving wife will become someone else’s property.
Although Helen’s character and role in the unfolding of this 10 year wars seem more complex than just relegating her to the label of “prize” or slave, her more liberal circumstances as Paris’ “wife” do not include her freedom to return to her former life (Roisman 4). Her fate is left to the discretion of men. When the goddess Iris interrupts Helen at her weaving, a significant domestic role for women, in Book III, she explains that, “Menelaos the warlike and Alexandros will fight with long spears against each other for your possession” (136-137). Helen will have no say in the matter. She will be the prize for the greater warrior. “You shall be called beloved wife of the man who wins you,” Iris tells Helen (138). This thought and the remembrances of her life before Troy cause Helen to leave her room in sorrow.


Just as Menelaos and Paris battle for Helen man-to man, there is a discussion amongst the Trojans about Helen and her role in this decade long conflict. What Homer describes as “chief men of the Trojans” agree that neither side can be found at fault when a beauty such as she is at stake. “Terrible is the likeness of her face to immortal goddesses….still…let her go away in the ships, lest she be left behind, a grief to us and our children”(156-160). Her beauty being the cause of all this sorrow, she should be sent away to prevent more suffering by the Trojan people. There is no blame for Paris in their problems, he is seemingly just a man fallen prey to a stunning face. This idea of ridding themselves of Paris’ paramour will arise again in Book Seven when a break from the fierce and bloody battle is taken in order to gather the dead. Trojan warrior Antenos suggests to the assembly that it is time to return “Helen of Argos” to her husband and avoid any further destruction to their city. (350-353). Paris response is an immediate rejection.”I will not give back the woman. But of the possessions I carried away to our house from Argos I am willing to give all back…” (362-364). Just as with the exchange of Chrysies and Briseis, what Helen may have felt about her situation was of no account to the Trojan men. Their significance as individuals with power over their own lives is non-existent. They are the treasures of men, to be subject to them in all things.


Although the world of the Iliad may have existed more than a millennia in the past, messages that woman’s highest purpose is to satisfy the needs of men pervade the modern world. On the website www.media-awareness.ca the media watch group suggests that the representation of “women’s bodies in the media”, particularly the direction taken by many women’s magazines, in a hyper sexualized and consistent fashion, “perpetuates the idea that women’s sexuality is subservient to men’s pleasure” (women as sexual objects). More disturbing than that, perhaps, is the increasing problem of human trafficking.


According to Francis Miko of the Congressional Research Service (CRS) in a report to United States Congress in 2003, “trafficking in people, especially women and children, for prostitution and forced labor is one of the fastest growing areas of international criminal activity…generating seven to ten billion dollars annually according to United Nations estimates”(1). The continuing high level of poverty and limited access to education among women as a global population make them a continuing target of international crime rings. There remain cultures within which the value of daughters to a family is far inferior to that of sons who are seen as being able to contribute to the economic survival of the family. Many families in dire circumstances will “sell their daughters to brothels or traffickers” in order to provide immediate aid to their family and lighten the drain to their resources.(2). This report proves that the belief that women are the property of their family, husband, parent continues to exist in global consciousness today and the fact that they are often being sold into economic and/or sexual slavery by someone in their family becomes an idea that sets this modernization of the subjugation of women apart from that of the world of Homer’s Iliad.


Although it may be said that the conditions of Helen and Briseis represent a world thousands of years ago and the world has developed exponentially since then and that the rights and independent worth of women have vastly improved, the conditions of women throughout the world still largely depend on their value in the eyes of men.

"Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair" ~ Blake

I am desperately trying to discover a way of living this principle to the fullest without burning the bottom of the empty pot I call my self. Sometimes, the capacity to love and work for the well being of others leads us to move our own selves to the back burner to simmer. Easily forgotten, we go about the business of tending to the proper care of all the other pots until the smell of burning metal, now devoid of any liquid,shocks us to attention. Love is completely unselfish, yet loving one's self is a neccesary ingredient in the recipe for reaching out to and loving others. If we do not tend to the pot on the back burner, we will end up with a smoky kitchen and the blaring sound of the smoke alarm. That is the point I have arrived at and it is no small feat to rid the house of both the smell and the presence of smoke as well as getting the blasted smoke alarm to pipe down. Nor is it a simple task to scrub the charred pot clean before putting it to use again.

Deep thoughts.....

"Relationships offer us the biggest opportunities for learning lessons in life, for discovering who we are, what we fear, where our power comes from, and the meaning of true love....We tend to think we have relationships with relatively few people, primarily our spouses or significant others. The truth is that we have relationships with everybody we meet, be they friends, relatives, coworkers....You are the common denominator in every single one of your relationships, individual in their own ways yet sharing many characteristics because they emanate from us....The attitudes you bring to one relationship - positive or negative, hopeful or hateful,- you bring to them all. You have the choice to bring a little or a lot of love to each of your relationships." - "Life Lessons" by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross & David Kessler

I need to really think about this and will post my thoughts when I absorb some of it. WOW!

"Your thorns are the best part of you." - Marianne Moore

I am beginning to appreciate the beauty of my own imperfections. When viewed through the magnifying glass of high expectations held by self as well as others our thorns may seem horrendously hideous.Yet when viewed close up by the natural eye it is the magnificent uniqueness of our individual thorns that make us who we are. The rose would not be the flower that it is without it's protective thorns running up and down its spine. It is these prickly and unpredictable elements that weed out those who can and do appreciate us in our completely imperfect and flawed humanness from those who find the challenge and pain of the thorns too much to bear. Why should we hide our thorns, they can only cause more pain, more unhappiness when we wrap them underneath deceptively pretty tissue paper?It is the thorns that show us the depth of the connections we make with those willing to have have their fingers pricked occasionally in order to enjoy the sweet smell of the flower of friendship.

"Only that which is the other gives us fully unto ourselves" Sri Yogananda

"Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence."~William Blake

Buddhist philosophy teaches that it is the otherness of mara, our inner struggles, the adversity of our natures, that allows us to truly become a stronger individual, to achieve our bhodisattva nature and eventually our buddhahood. When we harness the darker side of our existence, the impatience, the weaknesses, and the anger and flip the mirror we can bring out the best and strongest self.I find that a comforting and universally true principle. Shakyamuni wasn't the Buddha for nothing. When we apply this philosophy during the roughest moments in our daily lives it allows us to rise above what Latter-Day Saints call the "natural" man or woman. We can take that which most frustrates, overwhelms, and challenges us about our own habits and traits and turn them into tools of self-discovery. We can be refined like gold through the fiery furnace of our own weaknesses and unavoidable obstacles life perpetually places in our way. And through the dual nature of existence,like Blake so poetically described it, through the full experience of love and hate or reason and energy, we can truly know the capacity we have to strive for the highest within us.

"If speaking is silver, listening is gold" -Turkish Proverb

"Listening is such a simple act. It requires us to be present, and that takes practice, but we don't have to do anything else. We don't have to advise, or coach, or sound wise. We just have to be willing to sit there and listen." Margaret J. Wheatley

The greatest gift I have ever received in my life is the feeling of being truly heard and understood. It does not require an alignment of opinions to feel such acceptance, but an open mind and heart of the listener to the seemingly irrational overflowing volcanic heart. It is sweet comfort to feel the reassurance of a friend or loved one's understanding and encouragement when your shoulders are weighed down like Atlas'. What words can accurately describe the fathomless gratitude a trembling soul feels at the clear seeing support of those who while acknowledging your brokeness can remind you of your immense value at the same time? Can there be any more profound expressions of friendship and love than the open ears and arms of one who places no judgement on you? It is true we all stuggle to be better listeners, to offer more gold and less silver in our relationships with each other. I know I have much of the silver and not enough of the gold in mine and strive to do better, but I also know that it is in our most meaningful interactions that we learn how to listen with our hearts more and talk with our intellect less, allowing for a true understanding of the woes with which our friends may be weighed down. In that way we become not just receivers of the greatest gifts but dispensers as well. Thank you to my 24k friends and family....I have been blessed indeed!

That's what he said....

So my good friend has an interesting perspective on my previous posting Let's Get Physical? While I don't know that I completely agree, surprise that that may be, I thought it was important to offer up a different but well thought out point of view. Let me know what YOU think.


Firstly, humans are visual creatures. (1/3 or more of the human neo cortex is devoted to the processing, filtering and interpretation of visual input.) I don't think anyone can deny this fact and think it's illogical to think it hasn't innervated the process of mate selection, arguably our most primal function. I do think there are variances between the sexes though. Both sexes use visual scanning to search for a healthy partner. Proven many times over even to the degree where subtle asymmetries are noticed between two similar photos. But I think men favor child bearing and sustaining features while women look for strength, for work and protection, and intelligence.
I think all of these primal subtleties have been decimated by our more recently evolved need to attain status among peers. We all innately want the best we can have. We follow social factors established by a general consensus and choose based on which has the highest probability of impressing the most people....
NOW, that being said, I would like to expand on this by saying that looking isn't the issue here. It's what we're looking at and how we use that data. If I were blind, how would I know what cute or hot was? I argue the same superficial traits could apply to a blind person. If I speak to a woman and she has a great personality, is fun, funny and intelligent but when I reach out to touch her I feel greasy acne pitted skin, a hairy chest and 1/2 her head is bald and I suddenly realize where that cheese smell was coming from I may become turned off physically. If I ended the friendship based solely on this I think that would be superficial and wrong...I think all vision does is apply some efficiency to this process. We're simply looking for the best we can get.

This doesn't just apply to mates.. Picking clothes at the clothes store, a puppy at the pet store or produce at the food store, the same mechanisms are at play. Is it broken lame or bruised.. Is it superficial to want a good bannana er.. apple..

The problem with all this is that it's short term, short sighted and not encapsulating the big picture. I pick a good apple and then I eat the apple. That's it. End of my commitment. But, If I am going to keep the apple, rely on it for emotional support, sleep with it, go meet grandma smith and all her crab apple cousins should obviously take a few other things into account. But is it wrong to visually search for the type of apple you like and then check them for bruises and worms.

Anyway, In summation, I would like to say that while looks clearly aren't everything, if your talking about an intimate relationship it is certainly a factor. And I am acknowledging all others. However if it is a search parameter and we need to search through 100's or 1000's of candidates, It is a no brainier, the hands down easiest way to filter is visually. If we had telepathic powers like Powder or Professor Xavier we could use other senses efficiently. But we don't.... It's a product of our brains wanting to be efficient..

Please note I'm talking about intimate relationships only!! If you apply this to friends and family that's pathological and wrong.

Interesting point.. The degree of superficiality in our attitudes about anything seems to be proportional to the length of the intended relationship..

“I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living.” ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

In the beginning were the words. And the words were me. And the words are me. Sometimes I worry that I am not quite careful enough with the words I choose, particularly when I am speaking on matters of great import to me. I have felt this concern magnified recently in discussions I have had regarding my own philosophies or even my own feelings when something arises that brings out my volcanic heart.I am a woman who tends to gravitate towards the fire of emotions and so speaking my thoughts and feelings seems to come with a sense of intensity and volatility that I am somehow more skilled at smoothing out when recording them in a manner that allows me to literally "look" at what I am saying and what I am trying to say. For me, writing is not just an exercise or a thing to check off my to-do list, it is the ultimate and intensely personal expression of the individual self. While I may attempt to explain myself clearly through open dialogue, it is in the careful transcription of my innermost emotional mechanics onto viewable space that I most genuinely represent unpredictable dance between my brain and my heart. To be able to have access to that with the blessing of hindsight to give perspective is worth whatever the cost in time, effort, and complete honesty.

Let's Get Physical?

Having spent the last week debating the concept of attraction and physical appearance in various conversations, I must admit I feel like a stranger in my own land in regards to the subject. I have been advised and instructed,forcefully placed in the position of defending my views against the charge of being dishonest with myself, and educated on the importance of physical attraction in the development of an intimate relationship with another person.I would never deny that the element of what kind of packaging an item comes in may influence one's level of anticipation of the gift, but what I wonder is what actual significance does that "gorgeous" wrapping have when the gift is opened and loved or hated for what it is; the wrapping quickly discarded with the days rubbish. For my part,I feel that attraction as a term runs far deeper in meaning than the transitory notion of physical appeal.Yes, like any creation there do seem to be people in the world who, when we gaze upon them, seem to be chiseled from some perfect mold. But does that make them attractive? Is that what should draw us to one another? I realize I can only speak for myself, but the "hotness" of someone like Brad Pitt leaves me cold. I feel no attraction to what so many women conceive of as being gorgeous. While I do have my Taye Diggs, I am not now nor would I ever expect to pursue(even if it were situationally possible) a relationship with him or anyone like him based on his physical characteristics viewed from my tv screen...or even from across a room. Making such a claim seems to put me in a room by myself. Because what I would need to see before I would even approach (or in reality run away from)someone based on what they look like is how they smile, how they interact with the people around them,who they talk to, and how they talk about themselves. For me, attraction involves the reflection of the individual soul in their mannerisms, behavior, and yes even physical expressions, not the parts of the physical body we may appreciate. Because in the end, when we decide who is worth our time and effort based on what we see on the outside we won't know until the gift has been opened whether we got a pearl or a skunk cabbage. And who knows what gems we have passed up because their wrapping was not up to our standards. Now, I have heard the argument that there can be no intimacy where there is no physical attraction and I can see that, but I think it is easier to have sparks develop between two pearls where the wrapping may be not quite what we would expect for ourselves than between a pearl and a skunk cabbage with beautiful packaging. What do you think?

There'll be girls across the nation that will eat this up...

"Women wish to be loved without a why or a wherefore; not because they are pretty, or good, or well-bred, or graceful, or intelligent, but because they are themselves"~Henri-Frederic Amiel

If there is anyone out there who wants to clearly understand what it is that women need from the people in their life it is perfectly reflected in the above quote. It has taken me more than 2 decades to see this through the twin lenses of experience and honest self-evaluation, but looking back on the highs and lows of my life it seems a ridiculously obvious truth. It reminds me of a wonderfully insightful quote by the wicked Oscar Wilde,"Women are made to be loved, not understood." That encapsulates the feelings at the heart of who we are and why we do the mysterious things we do. I don't want to be valued for my nice hair or healthy curves, my ability to sing, or my sharp wit. Because all of the qualities physical, emotional, spiritual, mental that I may exhibit at any one time individually do not define who I am as a whole person. To love someone for one or two of the parts of the whole seems like a volcanic explosion waiting to happen.

"I felt it shelter to speak to you." ~Emily Dickinson

I cannot think fully lucid thoughts these days.I am not who I am but this wild thing darting from enclosed shelter to enclosed shelter. I skip classes....leave assignments unfinished....lose keys, phones, ideas,and sometimes even my heart. But this feral thing has been provided with a few sacred havens and cannot imagine what shaggy scapegrace of an existance I would have fallen into without the ever present hand of God in my life. I see His blessings even through the hurricanes and tropical storms. He has provided me with a circle of love and devotion to buoy my spirits, forgive my weaknesses, and magnify my understanding. He has given me love stronger than I have ever felt before. He has endowed me with the miracle of friendships and the challenge of learning the power of complete emotional vulnerability. I have felt the peace and safety of purity and profound compassion because I have allowed myself to embrace those shelters from the storm with which God has provided me. Yet, the wounded animal within still rails against the fury of life's storms. The mind turns itself over and over again like a mental rotisserie. But in certain moments with certain people I can be still. My mind can rest and my heart can open itself completely, encompassed by the shelter of friendship and love.
"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life; That word is love."
--Sophocles

"She is your mirror,shining back at you with a world of possibilities.She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best,and loves you anyway...

She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink. Some days, she's the reason you wish you were an only child." ~Barbara Alpert



Whenever I think of the nature of the sister-sister relationship the first thought that surfaces leads to a compulsory singing of the few bars I know of that famous tune from the holiday classic White Christmas:Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters.... It never fails.

Admittedly, there may have been a period in my life where I felt the pull of desire to be an only child. But the tide of life experience eroded that faulty emotion years ago. Today I have the calming assurance of having been given three women who know where I have come from and will do all within their power to encourage me along the path to where I am going. There are three women who know exactly what I mean when I say: "I am turning into mom" or "Wow, I am just like dad". There are three women who know that despite my grumpy exterior I have the insides of a marshmallow...and forgive me for my infinite shortcomings. There are three women who reflect the best and the worst within myself. There are three women who have shown me how to want more for and make more of myself. Three women who have allowed me to feel God's love reflected through their love and support of me. There couldn't be three women I love more.

"What love we've given, we'll have forever. What love we fail to give, will be lost for all eternity." -Leo Buscaglia

I have been learning something about the refinining nature of love. Though this feels like a recent development to me I can look back on my life and glimpse the many times along my way that God planted seeds of learning in an attempt to yield an oak of understanding. I love this quote by Leo Buscaglia because it touches on the principle I know I will spend my life attempting to fully understand. What good is the love we have in our hearts for the world around us if it goes unplanted, uncultivated and unexpressed? What purpose can it serve to feel a deep love within ourselves for anything or anyone beyond ourselves if we lock it in a safe box and bury it beneath the earth?

I have a friend who insists that it is a sin when a person refrains from sharing their feelings of love to another. I would argue that words are well and good but it is through our openness in actions that we show the intent and feeling of our hearts. The seedling of perception blooms with the unfolding of the notion that love is most profoundly reflected in our sacrifices, small or large, of time, money,comfort,desires,etc...in the pursuit of putting someone else's happiness first. It is when we focus on blessing the lives of others that we are most blessed, and it is in giving our love freely not just in word but in deed that we claim the right to feel that love in return forever.

Weave with faith and God will find the thread. -Proverb

Today is October 21. Two months ago my older sister Danielle was married for time and all eternity to her sweetheart Andy Gomez in the LDS Newport Beach Temple. It was the most stressful day of my life and the most joyous.Funny how the contrast of high anxiety and total joy can be woven together to settle an event indelibly into your memory and your heart.Knowing that the day was not about me I spent very little time enjoying the glorious weather or the good company. I raced from place to place on errands to make sure everything was where it should be. That day Danielle shone brighter, stronger, and far longer than the California sun.With her hand firmly in Andy's, they emerged from the temple with their hands held high in the air, victorious. This was the day my determined sister had been waiting for and working for and it was magical.
Despite being diagnosed with Stage IV Breast Cancer just 2 months previously and having recently finished a round of radiation, Danielle Bailey Gomez was a marvel to behold that day. She danced the night away painlessly and chatted with all of her guests as if her body weren't riddled with tumors.August 21st 2010 was her night, her's and Andy's and even though I spent the day trying to catch and weave in all the loose ends before the thread ran out, God managed to grant me the miracle of seeing my sister have one perfect night.
Love you TEAM DANDY!!!!

"If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?" - Kahlil Gibran

I continually ask myself this very wise question posed by the gifted Lebanese wordsmith and poet, Kahlil Gibran. My life changed forever just a few months ago when I received a phone call from my older sister at around 7:30 pm EST.The bubbling lava of her words began to suffocate me: it's metastatic breast cancer. I have been making my way through the haze of volcanic smoke and lecherous ash ever since. My heart seems to be able to break in one moment and regenerate in the next, only to break in the silent moments of infinite introspection. My 41 year old beautifuly brave sister was diagnosed with Stage IV Breast Cancer as she made plans for her rapidly approaching wedding. I cried. I cry. I will cry. It seems like that was years ago, now that she is undergoing chemotherapy and her second round of radiation. But oh was she a beautiful bride...pretty pretty princess I so fondly call her. To see her married and happy was a moment so purely joyful that I ask myself: well, what of this volcanic heart? Can you be joyful and tormented simultaneously? As the weeks roll along with my sister and I seperated by an entire country, I have discovered the volcano is deep within my heart making it's unpredictable appearance at the strangest moments. I have become acutely aware of the heat of anger in the frustration of feeling powerless and disconnected. I have felt distraught in the midnight hour longing for the assurance that the "C" thing was all just a dream. But despite my emotional volcano there have been moments of tenderness between sisters as well as between friends and most importantly between the Parent of us all and a sorrowful daughter. What I hope to achieve is a quelling of the volcanic fires that sporadically burst forth scorching everything in its wake with the consistant and firm recognition of the numberless blessings I daily receive, including the knowledge that God does indeed have a plan. Once I do that, perhaps the most magnificent flowers will bloom from the rich volcanic ash.

"Touch seems to be as essential as sunlight." - Diane Ackerman

In my life there have been a universe of touches good and bad. What I have come to realize in my moments of clarity is the immense influence human contact generated by love and compassion can have upon the individual's well being. Like soaking in the sunlight rich with Vitamin D, the glowing warmth of affectionate physical contact can lighten the spirit and the heart.With complete disclosure I admit this has not been my philosophy for much of my life, but recent developments have allowed me to acknowledge that sometimes the only thing that can treat a troubled soul is a hug from someone who cares or a cuddle with a sister while she rests.By witnessing the anguish of another I have learned that there is nothing I would rather do in the world than sit on the lazy-boy, curled up next to someone I love...holding hands.

"Oh, I am very weary, though tears no longer flow; My eyes are tired of weeping, my heart is sick of woe.”

I am restless tonight. My head will not rest on its pillow nor will my eyelids put their charges to bed. I am not determined to be melancholy yet it somehow manages to find me . You see, it is the gaping desparity between what my mind knows and my heart cannot comprehend that leaves me sleepless and teary eyed. It is the suddeness of sorrow and regret continuously mingling with a harrowing sense of impotence that disturbs my peace. I have been trying to understand the surprise of emotional unpredictability when life altering circumstances become your life or the life of someone you love. There are forces we cannot fight, and my mind understands that, yet...my heart resists the pragmatism of its logical command center. Life is not fair. This my mind understands while my illogical organ cannot accept or even comprehend the application of such an idea on an personal level. While this enigmatic battle between heart and mind cycles on I will lay my head on a tear stained pillow and pretend to fall asleep.

Waiting for the other shoe....to drop.

Whenever my cell phone clings with the ubiquitous cell phone ring tone and the hour is just a tad too early or a smidge too late my immediate though process is this: something must be wrong.Somewhere something must be wrong with someone I love, but what I have learned recently has taught me that difficulties can arrive by satellite during the normal course of the day as well. You can literally go from making plans for a vacation in one second to shaking those plans off of the etch-a-sketch of your life in the very next nanosecond. I reflect on the mutating influence of sudden misfortunes, obstacles, or tragedies. I have known and seen the devastating artistry of loss in the lives of friends and family. Life is surely short and not always sweet, but it seems to me that those who have suffered heart scarring events either fall apart and disintegrate being blown to and fro by the storms of life or they rise from the ashes like a phoenix. No matter what may come their way.

On Pain

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that
pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the
winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within
you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy
in silence and tranquillity:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by
the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has
been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has
moistened with His own sacred tears.

Khalil Gibran


My heart is bound up in the underlying feelings expressed by this master poet. Today I felt all the loneliness and all the kindness of humanity in my journey to repair what was broken. I have found that the struggles of daily life can present me with a magnificent magnifying glass into my inner self if I would but handle it properly. To understand the principle that pain and hardship are the building blocks of our strength and joy seems an impossible belief to embrace, but as Gibran wrote, "Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain." For me, this is not a practice I automatically act on, but a goal I have set for myself to know that accepting the bad and rising above it is what allows for a complete fulness of joy. When I look back at my moments of darkness with my looking glass I hope to be able to say:THAT was when I took one step closer to true happiness.

There is no frigate like a book ...

There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away,
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry –
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll –
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears a Human soul.
-Emily Dickinson

It borders on half a year since I last took the time to unload my footlocker of a brain outside of the classroom. In that time I have traveled through space and time around the world and back again. And while there remains no rest for the wicked or in my case late blooming student, I reflect on my experiences in returning to school with the above poem rooted in my consciousness. While I will be paying off my education for years to come I have somehow managed to divide myself from the fear of accumulating interest and monthly loan payments in the words of the reclusive Dickinson. There truly is no price I would not pay to succesfully navigate beyond the bounds of space and time through the active study of a well-trained mind. For when one meets with those who have attained that state of living in the world one can only say:that is what I want for myself and these are the associations I wish to make and keep. And for me all of this begins and ends with the "chariot that bears a human soul.

Favorite child?

Whenever our family congregates, my siblings and I engage in, what I imagine to be a fairly common but in our case, semi-flippant debate. Assuming hindsight is 20/20, we turn the finger of accusation at one another with an impish pleasure at teasing our parents about the clear inequality in disbursement of attention toward their five children.
Being the youngest of five in a family with vast age gaps between the children, my status as the baby lends itself to frequent discussions over the ease with which I grew from toddler to adulthood. My brother and sisters remind me that by the time I reached the adolescent years, our parents had been worn down by the shenanigans of my way-paving forerunners. Ceding their point, I counter with the argument that being left to one’s own devices by definition means being left alone. While my mother regularly expressed an interest in my life, my father’s participation tended to be limited to occasionally sarcastic remarks or uttering the phrase “You are grounded.” In between punishments I was routinely an island unto myself.
During these friendly debates someone in my family inevitably recalls the deep affection showered upon me by my father as a young child. This is a point I dare not argue. I vividly remember the hours I spent with my linebacker of a father during my formative years. He carried me everywhere, like a football, and took a personal interest in my youthful projects. I particularly recall creating my own little publishing business in which I would gather numerous crisp white sheets of paper, fold them into booklet form, staple them, and add cover designs of my own invention. My father would happily exchange a nickel, perhaps even a quarter, for my handiwork, despite the poor substantive quality of the product. Most often the pages inside my products were blank.
As I grew, we seemed to grow apart. Affection, warped by emotional distance, synthesized into discomfort and then resentment. I stopped listening to what he was saying, because of the probability of an ensuing argument. Lacking any athletic skill, I sought to connect with him through our mutual love of music by joining the school band as well as the school choir. The bi-annual concerts evolved into another source of alienation. Each performance my eyes devoured the audience to determine if this was the concert he would decide to attend. The only school function dad attended in my behalf was high school graduation.
The apex of alienation occurred when, after a year –and- a -half of college, I dropped out and returned home. Unspoken disappointment seeped into all of our conversations. I was his only college drop- out. The four other Bailey children had graduated college and started families, endowing him with the greatest possible joy through grandchildren. I, the youngest, was working as a retail manager.
Retail management defined my life for almost ten years. Respect for my dedication to hard work became a connection between dad and me, but his regret at my unfinished attempt at higher education and full adult status lingered. While we were comfortable enough to enjoy watching a good game on television, I felt a vacuum of deprecation preventing a genuine breakthrough. Then my life changed.
In late winter of this year I was laid-off from a promising new job. What would my father think? How could I tell him about yet another failure? Fear of his reaction led me to a period of profound reflection on what my future held. After more than a decade away from the academic environment, I decided to take the leap and restore my father’s pride in his youngest daughter by finishing college.
Recently, dad and I talked about my decision and he gave me more than those nickels and quarters from childhood ever could when he said, “I always knew you were my smartest kid.” Maybe my siblings are right after all.

The art of loneliness...

The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration.

- Pearl S. Buck

Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that's where you renew your springs that never dry up.

- Pearl Buck

I have been to the mountain of loneliness and waded through the river of solitude. The complexity of the meaning and value of Loneliness and her siamese twin, Solitude, fascinates me. What are the parameters for loneliness versus solitude? How sharply defined is the individual identity of each, when utlitmately fused to one another in some unfathomable way.The irony is that the physical element required by the inherent nature of Solitude has little to do with the underpinnings of her sister, Loneliness. One can be heartbreakingly lonely swimming in a sea of people, or achieve complete fulfillment in the solitude of an early morning sunrise. One of my favorite sources of rest for my weary soul is to relax on the beach on a cold winter's day. With the wind whipping through my hair and burning my cheeks the crash of the ocean can often calm the anxieties of the spirit. I have felt true contenment amidst the most discouraging times by embracing the solitude of nature, coming to find the truth in the latter quote of Pearl S. Buck, renewing my "springs that never dry up." But is it possible that at some point the practice of a consant solitude may morph into the hollowness of loneliness? They are innately joined together after all, forged by the emotional needs of humanity. Can one suffer loneliness at the hands of a hyperactive search for solitude? Those of us who may often prefer the quiet moments of solitude must expand our comprehension to understand that it is only through active socializing and connecting with the world around us on a meaningful level, doing our utmost to brush off the isolationism of loneliness, that the most profound moments of solitude can actually exist.

Reflections on "Massacre of the Innocents"

What is it about the people and places written of in the bible that capture the artist’s imagination? Based on the prolific production of art imitating life, at least life in the Hebrew Bible and New Testament, there is something about bringing these texts to life, visually that appeals to the creative spirit. For me, the study of works depicting various aspects of the Judeo-Christian tradition enhances the understanding of it. I agree with the authors of my textbook, Hauer and Young when they connect the presentation of biblical themes in pop culture, in this case the high culture of art, as contributing to the meaning of the Bible itself. One of the paintings that have personalized the meaningfulness of the Bible is housed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art: Francois Joseph Navez’s Massacre of the Innocents.
Every time I make a trip to the Museum, I visit this painting. The stunning quality of the work never fails to stop me in my tracks. The portrayal of the devastation of King Herod’s tyranny is summed up in this vibrant masterpiece. The intensity of the color and the detail of each individual down to the hair ornaments and jewelry pull the observer in to the moment. The despair felt by the forlorn mother as she holds her slaughtered child in her arm and the fear of the woman behind her in anxiously trying to quiet a miraculously unharmed infant. The innocence of the victims depicted by the alabaster tones of their skin, while in the background there is some suggestion of the evil that continues on. This symbolic scene could be one of thousands that occurred during King Herod’s paranoid attempt to prevent the fulfilling of a prophesy. The power of this portrait is that whenever the story of King Herod is discussed this “snapshot” has become the reference image that comes to mind
In seeing the results of the Biblical influence in the great world masterpieces, I can only think that the power of the art is a direct result of the artist’s ability to transfer the power of the text to canvass.

Don't make eye contact, or the Kitty Genovese Effect

Growing up in New York, one of the first lessons of social behavior is: do NOT make eye contact. The New Yorker is enculturated to manage crowded subway platforms and busy sidewalks by intentionally avoiding those seemingly harmless interactions that can evolve into awkward, perhaps even unsafe, social situations.
Unfortunately, while the unspoken rule is conducive to getting from point A to point B without incident, when it is applied in a community level it may lead to dire consequences.
The case of Kitty Genovese,although long past,continues t draws a sharp picture of the social harm caused by the exaggerated notion of "avoiding eye contact" when the numerous witnesses choose to stay out of a precarious situation that does not involve them. As Martin Ginsberg describes in his essay,Thirty-Eight Who Saw Murder Didn't Call the Police," For more than half an hour thirty-eight respectable law-abiding citizens in Queens watched a killer stalk and stab a woman..."
How could this happen? The standard of community assumes a relationship for mutual benefit of its citizens. When does the internal warning to avoid eye contact - to stay out of it- become the belief that involving oneself in ensuring the well being of a neighbor is an inconvenience?
While the brutal stabbing of Kitty Genovese occurred over 45 years ago, one wonders how much has changed? Turn on the nightly news and hear the story of a gang rape on a Middle School campus with witnesses recording every detail on their cell phones.Kitty was a young woman screaming for help, relying on her community to respond to her pleas. Within a comnmunity, like Kew Gardens or even that Middle School schoolyard. a victim reasonably expects the protection of neighbors or community members. The aid Kitty receives, in this case, is a shout from an apartment window, "...Let that girl alone!"
Yes it was dark and several local residents explain an uncertainty of what was actually taking place, but the disturbing indecision exhibited by any to get involved depicts an ongoing issue for modern society.
One neighbor, Gansberg writes:
...had called the police
after much deliberation.
He had phoned a friend in
Nassau County for advice,
and then he had crossed
the roof of the building
to the apartment of the
elderly woman to get her
to call.

Meanwhile, Kitty Genovese is dying in the street. Time and time again, hearing her cries and uncertain what to do, if anything, the mebers of her community put self-interest over community health; refusing to get involved when a neighbor's life is at stake.
When an individual on the street looks away it allows the a sense of personal security. When a community "avoids eye contact" it's a failure to protect the well-being of its citizens.