"Blue" - Enrique Rottemberg

I came across this article in a Canadian magazine on Cuba.  The colors and texture immediately grabbed me.  I love the notion that a bed bookends our life cycle, and the intimacy of that whole concept.  I hope to meet with these photographers on my next trip to Cuba in March.  In the meantime, I think their work – and the concept behind it – is very interesting.

Sleeping with…

By Cristina Diaz

Sleeping with…is the photo exhibition of artists Enrique Rottemberg and Carlos Otero showcased during Photography month in November at the Cuban Photo Library.  This exhibition caused intense emotions and enormous interest in both the public and critics.  In direct contrast to the incessant public spectacle with which the lives of Cubans tend to be perceived, immersed in music and unmotivated bustle and clamor, this exhibit tells a different story.

We are introduced to people’s most secret space, the one of dreams, through photos of the most private place of a home, the bedroom.  These are photos to the intention of anonymous dreamers, the “unknown soldiers,” as Enrique Rottemberg called them in his opening speech, thanking the thousand people throughout the island who opened their doors to the widest of their hospitality.

The absence of inhabitants in the photographs fills the environments with subjective content, giving soul to objects that contain bits of the story of each character as well as their diffused national and personal identity.  These portraits of absence call on our own ability to dream, summoning the spectators’ consciousness and unconsciousness; from within the bedroom to the inside of us.

Enrique Rottemberg, award-winning Israeli filmmaker with seven feature films, also a writer and photographer, has been living in Cuba for more than 16 years.

It is in Cuba where his passion for photography was born.  Constantly moved by subjective conflicts, by the dark side of the heart, always with a tone more comical-tragic than dramatic, more human than epic, he uses his camera to steal the soul, always questioning ethics and power in the exercise of art.

Carlos Otero is a Cuban photographer who arose from the deep sea as champion of several national and international underwater photography events, work that has been showcased in many places.  His present work has an acute social involvement and an incisive sensitivity to his country’s present and the people who live there.

Beds contain a cycle.  It is usually where life is conceived and where it ends.  In the interval, the bed is the permanent witness of our loves and disappointments, of nightmares and sleepless nights, of solitude and company, of our dreams.  It is not an allegory, not a symbol, it is concretely that bed, that mirror, it is that red and those dogs on the wall.

The images express an emphatic silence, a petrification of time, a disturbing perpetuity.  Faceless, as voiceless is the great Cuban movie “Suite Havana”, Sleeping with…makes us see what is not in our everyday tamed vision.

First triathlon under our belt.  And boy are we glad its over!

The weather for The Santa Barbara Triathlon Sunday could not have been more beautiful.  Gorgeous and sunny – perfect temperature to spend an hour (or so) at the beach.

For our first triathlon, we figured we better take it easy and do a sprint.  Santa Barbara seemed to be an idyllic destination to combine a dirty weekend with a little good clean fun.

View of the Riviera

The Sprint Course translated to:

500 meter swim
6 mile bike
2 mile run

followed later with a…
1 hour nap

Friday

We decided to make a weekend of it, and went up on Friday checking into The Canary – such a great hotel!  Hung out with Katarina, who just started back up at SBCC.  Had a fabulous dinner Friday night at Cafe Luck and told scary murder stories. Enjoyed post

Kat enjoying a cocktail

dinner champagne with Zach, bartender extraordinaire and soon-to-be-ex employee of the Canary as he embarks on his new career in New York.  I know the Canary will miss him dearly.

Saturday

Saturday, we went down to support those brave athletes doing the long course, shouting words of encouragement as they finished up the last mile of the run.  Note – if you ever happen to be near a course where people are racing, take a moment to cheer them on.  It means the world to them!

Stu at the pool

Hung out at the tri expo  – I think we are becoming expo groupies – and chatted with some very cool people, one being Kelly from Tridivas – a new favorite business – imagine – tri training and merchandise catering to women – girly women.  Kelly is gorgeous, bright, serious about training women to be triathletes – wait – tri divas – and she was doing this way before women started having any clout or numbers in the sport.  Her business includes training women and merchandise.  Think Fred Segal style – compression tights in patterns, like a cool leopard print.  Rhinestone boy briefs for women.  Seems like she’s captured a real niche, and I for one, support her vision completely.  We don’t need to look like Maria Navratilova, just because we are athletes, ladies!

Sat day spent relaxing around the Canary rooftop pool with Kat, enjoying the warm, sunny weather and eye candy at the pool.  Sat night, Stu and I tried a restaurant we’d heard about called Roy on Carrillo.  Highly recommend it.  Their shtick is that every entree is $10 – which it is – and it is fantastic.  Cool place.  Great art.  Check it out next time.

Back to the hotel early to pack and re-pack (and re-pack) our transition bags before dropping off to sleep.

Sunday AM – Race Day

Triathlon love!

Up and out by 5:30 AM.  Biked down to East Beach for the race.  First thing is to get our number marked on our arms and right hand, and our age (as of the end of Dec) on the right calf.  Then, into the transition area to get our kit laid out in those small spaces!  As much as I tried, I couldn’t get the hang of the transition area.  By definition, the transition is supposed to be when you change from one discipline to the next – where you unpeel your wetsuit and jump into your bike gear.  And then dump the bike and helmet and exchange the bike cletes for the running shoes.  It is supposed to be lightening fast.  This transition thing, for me, is a major disconnect, having been raised in a family of enthusiastic tailgaters.  Its all I can do not to bring candles, a welcome mat, a couple of folding chairs and a hibachi.  What?  No music?  Seems all very uncivilized, which is probably why my transition area looked like a bomb went off.  Just didn’t connect with the idea at all, as the snail-like time it took for me to change out of my wetsuit and into my biking gear cruelly demonstrated.

As we got on our wetsuits and filed out to the beach to wait or our group to start, I was interested to see how Stuart and I handled the nerves.  True to form, he observes, processing everything.  I, on the other hand, go inside my head, almost as though shutting down.  I maintain a calm and don’t over think the task at hand too much.  And then, of course, the conversation begins – the blathering in your head that starts taking over.  I don’t remember much of the race – at all – but I remember the swim monologue in my head.  It went something like this.

All marked up.

Stu marked up

Ready ready ready

“OK stay on the left outside the left outside.  Take your time.  Wade into the water.  Keep your position.  Should I go over this wave or dive in?  OK, I’m swimming now.  Wait, my left goggle is filled with water.  Shit, gotta stop and dump it.  Arrrrghhh!  Stuart used that new goggle clearer stuff and it didn’t work.  I cannot do this race like a cyclops – I need both eyes to be functioning!  Arrrrrghhh!  OK focus…right turn at yellow buoy and now you’re swimming in a line.  OK get to the first red buoy – thats all ya gotta do – get to the first red buoy.  Hey, who is that swimming right next to me?  Her strokes are exactly timed to mine.  Great, she’ll probably get past me and kick me.  And if she doesn’t, I’m going to have the pleasure of her on my ass the entire time.  So, cant let up cant let up.  OK, now to the second buoy – almost half way almost half way almost half way.  And not dead not dead not dead.  Quick backstroke to see how that feels, nope, not good, back to swimming.  Should be at the buoy in a couple of minutes.  Seems longer though.  Shit.  OK focus – you’ll get there.  There’s no way I could be drifting, though, right?  Am I swimming against the current?  Oh Shit!  Shit! OK I’m at the second red buoy – where is everyone else?  Did I pass anyone?  More importantly, did anyone pass me?  Now I gotta get to the yellow buoy.  OHMYGOD, the yellow buoy is sooo far away.  Shit.  I am so out of my depth here… I can’t even imagine doing the Malibu race and having to swim 3 times this distance. CANNOT  IMAGINE!   I will die.  I will not make it.  There is just no way.  Shit!  Where is that goddamned yellow buoy?”  And then, “My lonlieness is killing me.  I must confess, I do believe.  Do believe.  Yup – my mind,  clearly suffering from oxygen depravation, breaks into Britney Spears’ classic anthem, “Hit me baby one more time.”  Have no idea where that came from.  Very unsettling, really.

Have no recollection of getting out of the water.  Ran to transition and could not get wetsuit off -

My transition area - a mess!

even with glide.  Did not stop to dry feet – threw on shoes, bike jersey and tied bandana around my neck (no need to sacrifice style, after all), and off – without my number.  Shit!  Back to get number.  Random bike thoughts…

First thought - “like the bike like the bike like the bike.”  Second thought, “Ouch.  My quads are on fire.  Thank God we only have to do 6 miles, cuz there’s no way I could do 26.  No way.  NO way!”

Made time on the bike – passed Stuart coming the other direction with his hard to miss white and yellow jersey.  Note: Our Team Shut Up and TRI jerseys were quite the attention getting item of clothing.  We had several people stop us to take our pic and comment.  I admit, I felt a little dorky wearing matching jerseys, but oh well.

Stu's transition area

Transitioning from bike to run is pretty easy for me as I don’t wear bike cletes, so its just a matter of taking off my helmet and putting the bike on the rack.  Which makes me wonder why it took me nearly a minute to do that.  But, off I went to do the last two miles.  Totally on auto pilot.  “Get thru get thru get thru.” Two miles felt forever.  There was no one running with me to chat with – another bummer about this.  So, I had to talk to myself.  No shock.  When I finally made it to the finish, I was more off-put than enthusiastic.  Certainly not as emotional as when I crossed the finish line of a marathon.  Not sure what that’s all about.

Anyway – finished the race with Stu waiting for me.  And the icing on the cake?  This race does not give out medals.  What kind of a race DOES NOT give out medals?  Arrrrrrghhhh!

Overall Time

LMF – 61 mins 1 sec
STU – 57 mins 23 sec

Swim (500 meters)

LMF – 13 mins 14 sec
SCF – 11 mins 7 sec

Transition 1 (swim to bike)

LMF – 4 mins 36 secs (yikes)
SCF – 3 mins 37 secs

Bike (6 miles)

LMF – 21 mins 43 secs
SCF – 21 mins 29 secs

Transition 2 (bike to run)

LMF – 59 secs
SCF – 1 min 55 secs

Run (2.18 miles)

LMF – 20 mins 29 secs
SCF – 19 mins 15 secs

Bill & Lesley 1992

I HATE asking for money – hate hate hate it. But for me, there are few causes that hit as close to home as AIDS, and so I push through the discomfort of asking because of what I have lost through this disease, and because I know that through support, we can make a difference in the lives of people living with HIV.

I lost my dear friend, Bill de Lury, to AIDS way back when – when there was no prescription “cocktail” to stem the symptoms and when the stigma associated with being HIV-positive prevented so many people from coming forward and seeking help. Which breaks my heart to this day. The thought of people suffering and dying alone because of shame is something that none of us can allow. It is totally contrary to our humanity. Which is why we are raising money for AIDS Project LA – so that support is available so no one has to suffer with this alone. And ultimately, so that we can eradicate HIV and AIDS altogether.

Which is why Stuart and I are training for the Malibu Nautica Triathlon with T2 Team to End AIDS and on behalf of AIDS Project LA and in honor of William de Lury. This is an International Distance tri, meaning 1.5K swim (from Zuma), 26 mile bike ride (PCH) and 6 mile run (beach – yuck). Stuart and I are doing this as a team, and our name is “Shut Up and TRI” (as in triathlon!). Training is intense and we are definitely in over our heads, but we’re doing this because we want to help make a difference in the lives of people that are living with HIV.

William (Bill) passed away from AIDS almost 18 years ago now. I remember the anniversary of his death like it was yesterday, and because not even two months after Bill died, I got pregnant. Cooper William was born exactly 4 days before what would have been Bill’s 30th birthday.

Back when Bill was sick, finding support was difficult. His dad – a widow and staunch conservative – couldn’t handle the whole thing. So, Bill moved in with us in the last few months of his life, rattling around our house with his IV pole which our dog would routinely attack. In the midst of the tragedy, there were moments that were pure comedy, and Bill and I would howl with laughter, as we did through our entire friendship. When it came time for him to go to the hospital, we just changed our base of operations to his hospital room, bringing in food from restaurants all over LA to coax him to eat. I remember on many occasions we would lock ourselves in his hospital bathroom so Bill could smoke a joint. Of course, we would double over in hysterics at the whole thing, which provided a much-needed stress release in addition to giving Bill (and me, unfortunately) a raging appetite. And finally, as he began to lapse in and out of consciousness, I would crawl into his hospital bed with him and just hold him, as I know his own mother would have done.

I know in my heart that being with Bill, taking care of him and easing his fears through those last few months helped him to pass on. So, APLA and all the work they are doing to support people living with HIV is extremely important to me. Stuart and I are asking you to please show your support to APLA and sponsor Team Shut Up and Tri! All donations go to APLA and are tax-deductible. We have committed to raising $3800, and are only 20% there. We need your support – $10, $20, $50 – whatever your budget will allow – will go straight back to APLA to provide support – meals, assistance for family members – to people within the community living with HIV.

CLICK HERE TO DONATE NOW!

Thank you!!!

I confess I have not been knocked out by the iPad.  In fact, I have struggled with exactly why it is such a “must have” accoutrement.  And I am an apple girl!  But until now, my mind had not been opened up to all the artistic possibilities of the iPad as a digital, pixelated, and ultimately disposable – with the press of a button – canvas.  All of a sudden, I’m interested.

Listening to NPR this morning while dropping Coop off at school. Susan Stamberg is interviewing renowned artist David Hockney – now 73 – (73!) who has discovered the modern canvases of iPhones and iPads as a new medium for his works – without the messy cleanup.  Plus – he emailed the entire show to the gallery – a first in the realm of art exhibitions.

Soo interesting.  Some excerpts from the piece…

In Paris, A Display from David Hockney’s Pixelated Period

David Hockney is standing in the space where his exhibition is currently taking place until January 30th — the Pierre Berge-Yves St. Laurent Foundation in Paris — trying to talk about the works, when his iPhone rings.

“I’m right in the middle of an interview,” he says, laughing. “I’m sorry — wait a minute — I am, actually.” Then, to the reporter: “I’ll turn it off.”

And he does, though it might have been more fun if he hadn’t: He might have made us a new artwork right on the phone — a little vase of flowers, or a face, or a landscape.

When Hockney first got the device about two years ago, he immediately realized it was a new medium for creativity.

“Incredible little thing, really, because it was like a sketchbook and a paintbox all in one,” the artist says. Better, even: “No cleaning up. No mess.”

That’s because he’s painting with an app called Brushes — a small virtual paintbox on the phone’s screen, into which Hockney dips a finger — or 10 — and makes pictures.

“He started out sending out these images — little images that he would make on his iPhone — to his friends,” says installation designer Ali Tayar. “You wake up at 4 o’clock in the morning, and you’re trying to go back to sleep, but on your computer is one of his images,” Tayar says. “That is a treat — a ‘Hi,’ a little flower.”

Capturing the Morning, With Light Instead of Inks

David Hockney Untitled, 8 July 2010

Hockney started making these vibrant digital “paintings” early in the morning at his home in Yorkshire, England.

“From about late April to July, the sunrise would hit me in bed,” he explains. But “if I’d [only] had a pencil and paper by the bed, I wouldn’t have drawn a sunrise.”

Black lead, white paper; not that much to get up for, really. But Hockney had his iPhone by the bed, so he could draw the sunrise on the phone, in color.

Then the sun hit a vase of flowers near the bed. Hockney painted that, too. More mornings, more paintings, until he’d made hundreds and hundreds.

“Some were drawn quite quickly,” he says, “Some were drawn over two or three mornings, meaning I’d go back to them. And I sent them out — lovely thing was, I could send them out to my friends. … Often they were getting the sunrise that they’d missed.”

As you might guess, the people on his list — a couple of dozen or so — said they loved receiving those early-morning e-mails.

David Hockney Untitled, 16 April 2010

For A Few Weeks, ‘Fresh Flowers,’ And Then A Sudden Fade

Then Hockney heard about the larger iPad. The artist has always carried a small sketchbook with him. Now he carries the electronic equivalent. The creative experience is different on the bigger device, he says.

“On the iPhone I tended to draw with my thumb,” he says. “Whereas the moment I got to the iPad, I found myself using every finger.”

And he really gets into it, reports curator Charlie Scheips.

“He says he sometimes gets so obsessed that when he’s going, he rubs his finger on his clothes to, like, clean his finger — as if he was using real paint.”

Scheips coordinated the Paris show, a riot of non-paint paintings on luminous digital screens. One wall at the gallery is hung with 20 iPhones; a second wall carries 20 iPads. (The Berge-St. Laurent Foundation paid for all the devices — it’s not an Apple-backed effort, it says.)

All the gadgets are turned on 24 hours a day, and from time to time Hockney e-mails a new work to one of them — a kind of artistic status update.

The show, called “Fresh Flowers,” closes at the end of January. And then, installation designer Ali Tayar says, all the art will disappear.

“It’s not the traditional painting,” he muses. “It really doesn’t exist. It’s just light on a screen.”

You could print a Hockney e-mail, if you were lucky enough to get one, but it would lose something in translation without that brilliant backlighting. The work only lives on these gadgets.

Click here for the full interview on NPR.

Les with Sambo in Phnom Penh

I have been fortunate enough to celebrate another year on this earth.  What I have found that thrills me in my middle years – among other things – is elephants.  I had not such familiariaty for the species until traveling in Cambodia, where I was coincidentally reading “Like Water for Elephants”.  That’s when I came across Sambo in a dawn run through the city.  There she was in all her glory, on her way to her morning bath.  Slowly pacing herself through the busy road by the river.  I couldn’t believe it – then couldn’t believe my luck to witness such an unusual (to me) sight. And such a magnificent, yet stoic creature, undertaking her morning rituals.  I was taken aback.

Later that night with local friends at dinner, I  recounted my story, only to have them say in unison, “that’s Sambo”.  After acquiring the necessary address on her – I went to visit her one morning where she resides in Phnom Penh.  I have no doubt she sensed my deep empathy and admiration for her species, for she batted her lengthy eyelashes in such a manner as my dog and faithful companion Elsa does – that of recognizing a kindred soul.  I have fantasies that I jump on her back and off we ride into the Cambodia countryside.  Just my beautiful elephant and me.

Shukuru

Fast forward to 2010 and I am the proud foster parent of now THREE elephants from the David Sheldrick Wildlife Foundation in Kenya- Shukuru, who is just a little thing of 1 years old and who was very nearly killed for bush meat because she got herself stuck in a hole, is now a little rockstar.  The manholes on the ageing Mzima-Mombasa pipeline have been responsible for orphaning many elephant orphans. They should not, of course, be open, but the steel covers are either stolen or cast aside so that tribesmen along the route can access the water for themselves and their cattle. They seldom bother to replace the cover, because anything that falls in brings a free bushmeat meal.  I get regular notes from her keepers, and she’s absolutely thriving. For her harrowing story, read here.

Sities

My second baby, Sities (pronounced Syteez), was only 7 weeks old when she was rescued last January.  She is suspected to be a poaching victim, although human/wildlife conflict cannot be ruled out since the Ranch where she was found has a lot of livestock and herdsmen. The Trust’s De-Snaring anti-poaching team has been sent to scour the area to confirm any evidence of possible poaching.

Sities, a beautiful female calf, responded well to the arrival of the Keepers who fed her a bottle of milk and rehydration water before loading her into their Pickup and driving her to the Voi Stockades. Once there she remained close to the Keepers following them around, until the Rescue Plane arrived from Nairobi to airlift her back to the Trust’s Nairobi Elephant Nursery.  She arrived in the Nursery on a very auspicious day – the day that CITES Cop 15 voted in favour of the elephants, prohibiting the requested sale of ivory stockpiles from both Tanzania and Zambia. In celebration of that event, the calf was named Sities, pronounced the same but spelt differently.

Our newest family member - Wasin

For my birthday this year, I have been given a new baby girl, now only a month old – named Wasin.  She was found in Samburu – a region in Kenya where we have traveled and feel a strong connection to.  Wasin was only a week old when she was rescued on the 17th October, 2010 from Namunyak Conservancy in Northern Kenya.  She was retrieved from a shallow well by Samburu elders of the area. The fate of the mother is not known for sure, but it is whispered that she could have been yet another victim of poaching in the area where Chinese Road Construction workers are operating, and apparently encouraging the poaching of elephants for ivory.

For those not familiar about the work the David Sheldrick Wildlife Foundation is doing – The David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust is a small, flexible charity, established in 1977 to honor the memory of famous Naturalist, David Leslie William Sheldrick MBE, the founder Warden of Tsavo East National Park in Kenya, where he served from its inception in 1948 until his transfer to Nairobi in 1976 to head the Planning Unit of the newly created Wildlife Conservation & Management Department. David died 6 months later but his legacy of excellence and the systems he installed for the management of Tsavo and wildlife generally in Kenya, particularly in the sphere of wildlife husbandry and ethics, lives on.

For my part, its all about elephants.  I hope to foster many more, and watch them grow and recover from their traumatic beginnings.  I plan to take Cooper to Kenya this summer to work with the David Sheldrick Trust, so that he can get a first-hand experience of these gorgeous creatures and the feeling of helping them with a new life.

I urge you to foster  an elephant for a holiday gift.  Or as a baby gift – I gave a precious little man who turned one another precious little creature who turned 1, as well – that was Sities.  I take a photo of the elephant and put it into a 4 x 6 fridge magnet, to which I add the name.  Honestly, these little guys have had their mom’s poached.  Have fallen down holes.  Are in bad shape.  They are so phenomenally beautiful.  Consider fostering one or two.  You will love it!

And if that doesn’t do it for you, click here to see the most amazing baby elephant rescue.

Usage:

Yesterday at JFK, a Jet Blue flight attendant hit his breaking point. Upon landing at JFK, Steven Slater, the flight attendant with the attitude, told passengers to remain seated. When a passenger started collecting his belongings from the overhead bin, disregarding the instructions, Mr Slater tried to stop him but instead, was hit in the head by the baggage.  Score one for the passenger.  When Mr Slater “asked for an apology”, the passenger “instead cursed at him”, The New York Times reported.  Score two for the passenger.  MELTDOWN!!! Danger, Will Robinson!!

But here’s the best part…

Mr Slater then “got on the plane’s public address system and cursed out all aboard. (Would DIE to hear that tape).  Then he activated the inflatable evacuation slide at service exit R1, launched himself off the plane, an Embraer 190, ran to the employee parking lot and left the airport in a car he had parked there”.  And the best part, he managed to grab a beer from the galley before he slid outta there.  How fabulous is this?!!

Recent reports indicate that the famous restaurant /eco-project, The Yellow Treehouse Restaurant is coming back as a venue for private/corporate functions and events. Great news for companies running incentives to New Zealand and looking to create a spectacular experience.

The Yellow Treehouse Restaurant, which operated from December 2008 to February 2009 as part of a Yellow advertising campaign executed by New Zealand based Pacific Environments Architects Ltd. (PEL),  is a stunning architectural feat perched high above a redwood. Appearing for all the world like an enormous chrysalis – some say bird cage – grafted onto a 40-meter-high redwood tree, this isn’t just your regular tree house though. The Yellow Treehouse fits up to 18 guests and stands 40 feet high and 30 feet wide.  The views, understandably, are phenomenal, and the location – near a tumbling stream – makes you feel as if you’re perched atop a forest with no one else in the world.  The nighttime sky viewed through the restaurant, is a dream come true.

After the campaign finished, the treehouse went back to the original owner of the land, who is almost finished in permitting it for private events.  Keep posted, no pun intended.

Dark Dining Wait Staff in Hong Kong

I have been Dancing in the Dark with Bruce Springsteen.  I consider myself often in the dark – sometimes as a result of a teenage son who won’t share information, sometimes when it comes to convoluted political processes.  And now, I want to dine in the dark.

Dans le Noir, a successful Paris-based restaurant chain, has capitalized on offering a pitch-black dining experience that is meant to engage all the senses.  The whole thing appeals to me on a visceral and slightly intimidating level.  Like a gastronomic adrenalin rush.

Dans le Noir is truly pitch black.  The wait staff is blind, thus eminently more suited for the experience than your average diner, who tends to spill wine and miss whole food items on his plate.  Dining is communal – which apparently makes for a free-flowing conversation and bonding experience.  Menus are selected ahead of time, and color-coded – red for meat; green for vegetarian; blue for seafood; and white for the supreme je ne sais quoi meal.

What is also interesting, is the fact that whenever this topic has come up in conversation, men immediately and strongly say Non to the dark dining experience.  The women, however, are enthusiastic to experience the sensations.  I am looking forward to dinner at Opaque, in L.A, where I can experience this dining trend first hand.  I’ll be dining with girlfriends, of course.

Click here for a Dark Dining Experience near you.

Dark Dining in Melbourne, Australia

Dining in the Dark - NYC

Dear Lizzie,

Today USA Today weighed in on the commercialism that has become Eat Pray Love. I have decided a more fitting name for the book is Eat Pray Love Buy, which I think, you have to admit Liz, is better than Eat Pray Love Die.

‘Eat Pray Love’ is already at a store near you – USATODAY.com.

Luca Spaghetti! I know you’re giddy with all the excitement, and the potential sales through HSN (need a little help, Lizard, as to the connection with HSN other than to go mass market) but it’s time to attraversiamo, head home and focus on the sequel.  No tie-ins, please!

Your slightly less devoted (but still devoted) devotée…

LMF

Author of the soon to be released Drink Write Swear

Dear Liz,

Liz, Liz, Liz, Liz, Liz.

HOW could you?  How COULD you?  How could YOU?  Of ALL people?

I am sending you this letter my dearest Lizzie, to tell you that at least one of your devotées – one of your most devoted of devotées, has fallen off the Eat Pray Love bandwagon as a result of your shameless decision to go blockbuster with Eat Pray Love.  What was that enormous thud?  Just my soul crashing to the earth.  Not to worry.  What’s one soul when millions will be boarding the bandwagon next month to drink the EPL kool-aid?  No my dearest Liz, you won’t even know I’m gone.

Like many, I was given Eat, Pray, Love by one of my dearest friends, a testament to the daisy chain of women – to the connection we have and the primal, unselfish desire to provide information to each other that WILL MAKE OUR LIVES BETTER.  That was in 2007.  For me, as for many, the book illuminated things in a way I’d never experienced.  The notions of spiritual and human enlightenment gave me much to consider.  And it showed me that one can wear Prada and meditate!  Given the duality that is my life, that was an absolutely stunning realization for me.  The fact that all my character traits, as contradictory as they may be, can co-habitate quite happily in the studio apartment of my head was a huge breakthrough.  (They all say hello, by the way).

Like many people I know, I finished the book and simply started it all over again.  Avec highlighter.  I then bought 11 copies of the book and sent them to my best and brightest friends around the world – recruiting for the Liz Nation.  I sent copies to Australia.  One to Italy.  I even sent a couple of copies to my more enlightened male friends (who not surprisingly, liked the “Eat” part best.)  I have given the book to new friends that haven’t yet been enlightened, and I have given it to the daughters (mini-Lizzies) of some of my dearest friends as an Essential Guide for navigating through life.

It all went pear-shaped for me when I learned about the casting of the film.

Suffice to say that even a woman such as myself, with one incredibly overworked, exhausted and most likely, saggy, braincell left in her head, can work out why Julia Roberts was cast in the lead.  My dog could work it out (but she is very bright, so possibly not a good example).  But for this EG devotée, in that one casting decision, the intimacy of the story, the connection to the piece – my trust in your intentions, my beloved Lizzy – all went up in smoke.   For me, the message – the what – would now be diluted by the the star – the who.   (No offense intended to Julia Roberts, though possibly the smallest tinge of resentment for her not choosing to recognize that the sheer magnitude of her star could not help but dull the small but true light of the piece.  Shame on you, Julia.)

And EG, you didn’t just go Hollywood on us, you went Blockbuster Hollywood on us – a horse of an entirely different color!   And consequently, you blew an opportunity to maintain the vulnerability and honesty of your story through the choice of an appropriate medium in which to tell it.  An opportunity to get us to believe the experiences as they were happening to you.   Instead of keeping it small and intimate with a cast that doesn’t make 20 million a picture (tough to believe them in the role or relate to, I must be honest), you went with the greatest number of screens upon which to share your experience.  Instead of saying to us, “This was painful and it was joyful and let me take you through my process and together, we’ll see if it resonates on any level for you”, you went with more of a, “Isn’t it so fabulous where I am now?  Look how I came out the other side!  It all seems sooo long ago – I can hardly remember it anymore.  Oh – Julia’s on the phone?  Tell her I’ll call her back later.”  Somehow, in these decisions, it feels more about the arrival and less about the journey.

And Lizard – its not like there isn’t a well-established history of small, independent films doing spectacularly well at the box office, receiving world-wide critical acclaim, and oh yeah, all while staying true to the message and the truth of a story.  Just saying.

And then all the product tie-ins started to kick-in.  Now, Eat Pray Love is the adult version of a McDonalds Happy Meal that comes with a “Toy Story” action figure.  I can see the Eat, Pray Love McDonalds happy meal – a salad with mozzarella and couscous, and a string of genuine Eat Pray Love meditation beads – collect all three styles!  Even the LA Times commented on the Eat Pray Love Juggernaut of tie-ins,

“By the time the movie opens in August, you will be able to get “Eat, Pray, Love” furnishings from Cost Plus; shop the “Eat, Pray, Love” way with the Home Shopping Network, get “Eat, Pray, Love” jewelry from Dogeared, spray “Eat, Pray, Love” eau de parfum from Fresh, wear organic “Eat, Pray, Love” T-shirts from Signorelli, and drink “Eat, Pray, Love” tea.  You’ll be able to find glamorous “Eat, Pray, Love”-themed dresses by Sue Wong, and STA Travel will soon be offering their version of the “Eat, Pray, Love” experience: you can just Eat (in Italy), just Pray (in India), just Love (in Bali) or do all three.”

My favorite was a comment from Travel Hum in which another slightly jaded blogger was holding out for the official Eat Pray Love Yoga Mat and DIY Ashram Home Decorating Kit.  Sounds good to me.

Oh Lizzie Liz Liz, I know business is business.  And I know it gets tricky when you’re making copious sums of moolah from a personal journey of enlightenment.  Those lines can be sooo blurry sometimes.  And I know the studio is calling all the shots, but Liz, my darling Lizzy, you gave them the power to do so.  And I guess, at the end of the day, I just wish you hadn’t.  I wish you had kept it simple, had trusted the power of the experience to be the driving message.  And I wish you had trusted that your daisy chain of supporters – of women empowering other women with your singularly spectacular message of belief, would be enough of a legacy.

Well, I’m done lecturing, darling Elizabeth.  I have just enough time to hit the Neimans shoe department before my meditation class starts. Give my best to Julia – tell her no hard feelings.  I’ll look forward to seeing you on an astral plane very soon.

Namaste,

LMF

Look for MY book coming out soon – Drink Write  Swear.  I’m still working on the jacket cover artwork – but every time I finish, I manage to spill a glass of wine on it.  Damnit!!