So Long, Artwalk

Yep. They did it. They killed Artwalk. I was sure it was just some vicious rumor but it's true. The official website says:

"In recent years the Downtown Art Walk has grown so large that it has become too costly to manage in its current form. Effective immediately the Downtown Art Walk will go on hiatus, ceasing all event operations until January 2011, at which time it will be reborn as a quarterly, weekend, daytime, gallery-focused event which will appeal to both patrons of the arts as well as the general public." (http://www.downtownartwalk.org/)

Booo.....

Am I to believe that it will be less costly because it's during the day? Or on the weekend? Cuz I don't. I think it will only be less cool.

You don't have to tell me that Artwalk's a pricey pain in the ass. I live here. I still think this is a monumentally stupid decision. In a city known for elevating isolation and solo car travel to a "lifestyle," Artwalk got people out of the house and on their feet. It made public transportation the sensible choice - even if just for one night. It provided a functional marketplace for creative work and a launchpad for fresh ideas. It funneled cash into local businesses. But most importantly - it created a community. That's hard to do in a city as sprawling and uncrossable as ours. It should not be treated casually. Yes - it drew plenty of irritating drunks but their presence is always the price of admission to the destination of the visionaries. And there were visionaries in droves.

"angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night"

Now the visionaries will stay home and Artwalk will become the new thing for armchair innovators to do on the weekend. It will become just another street fair offering credibility for purchase.

Come January, it will be their party. On our streets. Which will be jammed not with pedestrians but with minivans. Not for one night a month but for an entire weekend every quarter. It will still be a pain in the ass. But instead of a massive grown-up urban event, it will be a massive gathering of suburbanites venturing bravely into "the city" for the day to "get some culture."

Count me out.

I shall stay home. And invite people over. Smart, interesting, creative people. People who will challenge me, trigger runaway thoughts, make me laugh too hard and feed my soul.

An Algonquin Round Table for the New Millennium.

The first one should happen on October 9. I encourage you to host your own. Invite over a small group of people you truly want to see but never do. Or at the very least - go outside, walk for a while and take a good look around. Don't go home until you've seen something inspiring.

The Diva's Vegan Round Table Dip

1 15 oz. package of soft tofu
4 T. soy sauce
4 tsp. yellow mustard
1 clove garlic minced
2 T. minced onion (dehydrated)
Dash cayenne
1 T. Old Bay seasoning
1 T. dried chives

Whirl everything up in the blender until it's smooth.
Serve with Kettle chips and conversation.

Products I Love - Private Label Skincare

I make my living as an artist. A lot of people assume that means I starve. They are mistaken. (Starving artists, for the record, are just wastoids with no talent for living.) I live well. But only because my dollars work hard. Nothing can be wasted when paychecks are small and irregular. My ship is tight.

One of the tricks I've learned over my frugal lifetime is to gravitate toward private label products. Private label or generic or no-name products are on the stores of your supermarket or drugstore right next to the name brands you know and trust. They are usually packaged similarly to the names and often contain identical formulations. But they are considerably cheaper. They can afford to be because they don't have to advertise.

Not all private label products are the bomb. But I'm here to sing the praises of my generic skin care regimen.

Rite Aid Cleanser - a similar formulation to Cetaphil. This stuff is gentle, moisturizing and doesn't irritate. I use it to remove eye make-up without tears. You can use it with water or just massage it in and tissue it off. It makes my face feel like velvet and it costs practically nothing.

Kroger Oil of Beauty - a no-frills knockoff of Oil of Olay, this light moisturizer doesn't clog, irritate or leave a film. It absorbs beautifully, makes a great make-up base and has SPF 15.

These two standbys, along with Garnier Skin Renew Awakening Face Massager - a reasonably-priced gem of a product that is worth every penny - form my basic daily skin care routine.

Skin care is the basis of any decent beauty regimen. Your skin tells all. Do not skimp on skincare. But for heaven's sake, don't spend more than you have to.

Seen on the Street - Woman in Garbage Can

This morning as I walked to my parking garage, I saw a woman sitting - no - lounging in a garbage can. Totally chill. Head back. Satisfied smile. Cigarette dangling casually between her fingers. Her butt was in the can. Her feet hanging out. And she watched the pavement pounding losers mill by, her face laced with arrogance, pity and contempt. Her lips pressed together in self-satisfied bliss.

She looked like she'd just discovered how incredibly comfy a city garbage can could be, moments before the secret got out. She'd figured it out and beaten us all to the trash can paradise.

She looked proud. And sorry for us.

The Sound of Silence

Vocal rest. It sounds so peaceful. It isn't. It's a relentless barrage of unvoiced thoughts, trapped in the mind and locked in the jaw. The feeling that you're disappearing from view as the noisy world goes on around you, without you, oblivious to you. The isolation of enforced silence within a culture built on verbal exchange.

Wait. Lemme bring you up to speed.

Last week I played a gig with my cover band. We are called Reckless and we rock the house with classic hits from the 70s and 80s. Def Leppard. Joan Jett. The Stones. If it has wailing guitar solos and throaty growls and it totally rocks - we do it. And last week I learned what happens if I do it at the onset of bronchitis.

I won't bore the non-singing reader with a detailed explanation of vocal mechanics. (You're welcome.) But I will emphasize that I LOST my voice. I don't mean it sounded weird when I talked. I mean I opened my mouth and there was no sound. I've been singing since I was two years old and this has never happened to me. It was as terrifying as when Agent Whats-His-Face made Neo's mouth fuse closed. Fortunately, I am a well-looked after woman. My favoritest ever work colleague got on the phone for me and got me an emergency appointment with an ENT. This kindly old guy stuck a camera up my nose and diagnosed me with acute laryngitis (you don't say?) and a blood clot on my vocal fold. (Okay, Doc. You have my attention.) The treatment? Steroids (So long baseball career.) And vocal rest.

No talking for a week. And no singing until further notice.

I went home and cried. Then reminded myself that crying is stressful to the vocal folds and sucked it up.

No talking. For a week. A week of silence. No phone calls. No questions. No "Good Morning." No "Thank You." No "Small drip coffee, please." No "This is my stop, Driver." No "Get away from me, Crazy Man."

I learned quickly that people either ignore me completely or get oddly aggressive, like they think I'M ignoring THEM. I try to compensate for my silence with smiles but you can't land a smile on someone if they're not looking at you. And it's really hard to get someone to look at you without speaking to them.

Inaudible = Invisible.

I understand the vow of silence now. It erases the sense of self. Unable to demand attention, voice a need or impose an opinion, one is forced to deal with what one essentially is, with what one is when no one else is looking. Yes - these are the kinds of thoughts that surface when you can't say "Excuse me, you're standing on my foot."

Today was my first day of talking and it's been rough. My voice is weak and sad sounding and it breaks my heart to hear it. I'm still under orders to avoid shouting so I haven't said much today that anyone heard. My maximum volume is about half of what regular conversation requires. Only those who truly want to hear me do.

When did we all start yelling all the time? It's really noisy and exhausting. I never noticed it before because I could just raise my voice above the din in order to be heard. Now I can't. And this experience has been so unsettling (I haven't even touched on the psycho-crisis that is being unable to sing) that I doubt I'll be so willing to shout in the future. Unless there's like a fire or something, I'm just not gonna yell for you people. Which means I'll say less. Much less.

But perhaps if I become the girl who says less, then the stuff I do say will be more important. Maybe that's why silence is golden. Who knows what we could accomplish if we could just discipline ourselves enough to shut up from time to time and listen?

Enough yakking. Time for Throat Coat with honey.