Bakersfield Show Recap

{Opening Night at Metro Galleries}

Friday morning I gassed up the truck, vacuumed out the dog hair, packed some snacks and carefully laid my freshly-pressed lady-dress along the back seat. Because you have to be well-prepared and presentable when you come up out of the rabbit hole. The drive up to Bakersfield is a solid three hours across open desert, over mountain passes, past tiny ramshackle communities and roads with names like Twenty Mule Team Road and Weedpatch Highway. Up and over the mountains, past the the tiny outpost town of Boron and its belching, active borax mine. Then the steady descent into the fertile Central Valley, to strange, sprawling, gritty Bakersfield.

Somewhere along the way the Be Good Tanyas came on and I listened to them, delighted by the rediscovery of a band I forgot I loved, most of the drive.

When I arrived in Bakersfield Metro Galleries was all lit up. Mary-Austin Klein's work was jewel-like, perfect, on one wall. Tina Bluefield's was sweeping, moody, on another. And my paintings? They were up on the wall of a beautiful gallery, and that, my friends, was more of a thrill than I can describe.

 

Lots of people came, looked. No one threw fruit at my paintings. It was marvelous.

Friends made the long drive to see the new work. To be supportive. To eat delicious free sushi.

My mother flew in from the east coast. I love my mother. When husbands aren't available she is the best date *ever.*

It's curious to watch a stranger look at your painting. It's creepy to sneak up on that stranger and take a picture of them looking at your painting. 

What can I say. That's how I roll.

 

When the gallery finally cleared out at the end of the boisterous, wonderful night I snapped a few pictures of the paintings up on the wall. I felt sad leaving them. Is that so strange? We've spent so much time together this past crazy month.

  

But the whole point is to get the work hanging on other people's walls. So au revoir, Persimmon.
Merci beaucoup, Metro Galleries.
Bon nuit, my friends!

(More) New Paintings

{Revisiting the Merits of the Jalousie Window}

Thank you for all the very generous comments, my swans! S'more, if you care:

Detail: Jalousie / oil on panel / 30 x 30 in. / 2010

Jalousie / oil on panel / 30 x 30 in. / 2010

Detail: Creosote, Wash / oil on panel / 30 x 30 in. / 2010 

  Creosote, Wash / oil on panel / 30 x 30 in. / 2010

New Paintings

{She Learned to Love Persimmons}

Everyone said I shouldn't post new work on the blawg before the show, but I'm guessing none of you quailettes live anywhere near Bakersfield. So here's a secret unveiling, just for you, if you promise not to tell. (Because you're special. And I love you.) The title is a reference to and metaphor for my slow indoctrination into desert life after moving here from New York City. Persimmons are a staple of autumn here, and although I initially found them repugnant I'm happy to say I've adapted. Adapted and converted.

So here's my desert, likewise adapted, converted, and duly persimmon'd:

She Learned to Love Persimmons / oil on panel / 30 x 30 in. / 2010

The Bride Rode a Yak

{A Ya-Ya Gets Married}

So she didn't actually ride a yak down the aisle, but we did ride yaks together six years ago when we met on a study abroad program in Mongolia. We rode ponies across the steppe. Lived in yurts with nomadic herders. Got drunk off airag, a mare's milk-vodka home-brew. Ate a *lot* of mutton. And became, in the wild hinterlands of nomadic Mongolia, fast best friends. On Saturday P. and I flew to Austin to celebrate my ya-ya's marriage to the love of her life.  (They're the ones who are going to beekeeping camp, remember?)

She carried pussy willows. She wore a sweater. She's an elegant iconoclast of the highest order. And I love her as if she were my own sister.  Lights swung in the live oaks and a full moon rose over the Texas hill country as we all danced the night away. Oh heaven, what joy.

Congratulations you two:
Here's to the adventure of a lifetime and, I have no doubt, a lifetime full of adventure.

Cause and Effect

{An Analytical Approach to the Day}

Circumstance: Mysterious blue stain on beloved Madeline Weinrib rug/ conspicuously stained paws.
Reason: Dog did not get exercise.
Lesson: Do not leave pens lying around/ take dog for run.

Circumstance: Thank you notes from Christmas incomplete (I know; totally unacceptable).
Reason: Genetic predisposition to procrastination.
Lesson: Marry organized person (check)/ write damn thank you notes NOW.
*My great-auntie gave me the stenciled LOL cards. She's in her eighties. Do we love her? Yes.

Circumstance: Paintings for upcoming show mostly *but not entirely* finished.
Reason: See above under procrastination, predisposition to.
Lesson: Do not work on commissions whilst preparing for a show.

Circumstance: The wearing of a ridiculous hat by husband (it has ear-flaps AND tassels).
Reason: It's cold all up in here/ I knit it for him when we were first courting.
Lesson: If you knit it, he will wear it. Because he is full of love in spite of unwalked dogs, unwritten thank yous and unfinished paintings.

California Contemporary

{February Show at Metro Galleries, Bakersfield, CA}

Next month I'll be showing with five other California landscape painters at Metro Galleries in the revitalized downtown of Bakersfield. Los Angeles painter Mary-Austin Klein is headlining the show, which makes my little heart flutter. Mary-Austin lives in Echo Park but spends a lot of time in the desert, and her resulting landscape paintings really have to be seen in person to be fully appreciated; they are *tiny* and unbelievably detailed while still retaining that atmospheric quality that makes the desert light so magical. Another hot mama in the show? Joshua Tree's very own Georgia O'Keeffe, my friend Tina Bluefield, whose studio and work I profiled in an earlier post.

I am so honored to show with them. I feel like I just got invited to sit at the big kids table.

Don Martin, the creative director at Metro, has been on a lifelong crusade to revitalize downtown Bakersfield, and his beautiful industrial-space gallery was the first of its kind to open there. Since then a dozen new galleries have popped up around him, and with the renovation of the 1928 Padre Hotel down the block Bako seems poised to become a respectable little culture hot-spot in the Central Valley. There's nothing I love better than a cow town with great art and a retrofitted oil baron hotel.

Now, back to work to finish those paintings! Hope you had a great weekend, muggles.

Tom Kha Gai

{Thai Chicken-Coconut Soup}

Forget your standard chicken noodle soup. With all this freezing rain I've been hankering for some really good *new* soup, so when my friend Nora forwarded me this recipe for tom kha gai I was thrilled to give it a shot. I doubled the recipe and upped the grated ginger, and DAMN, girlfren. It took under an hour from start to finish, and it was absolutely delicious. The zing of ginger and citrus combined with the smooth coconut milk and earthy shiitakes is an absolutely perfect ménage à trois of flavors. With all the chicken, spinach, mushrooms and noodles it's a full dinner all on its own, and makes awesome leftovers the next day. I'm surprised by how simple this is to make and how flexible the recipe is; once you get the basic flavors down you can add or subtract depending on your taste. Make it. You'll be a goddess.

Tom Kha Gai (Thai Chicken-Coconut Soup)
From Self, February 2008, via Epicurious; for a printer-friendly version of this recipe click here.
You can find fish sauce and glass noodles in the international food section of most grocery stores.  

Ingredients:
4 ounces cellophane noodles
6 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1–2 red Thai (or jalapeño) peppers, seeded and finely chopped (plus slices for garnish)
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 tablespoon grated ginger (I used 3 tablespoons for extra zing)
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest
1 teaspoon grated lime zest
1/4 cup fresh lemon (or lime) juice
4 tablespoons Thai fish sauce, divided
1/2 pound shiitake mushrooms, sliced (3 cups)
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 5 oz. each), cut into 2 1/2"-long by 1/4"-wide strips
1 cup light coconut milk (I used the whole can)
2 cups baby spinach
2 tablespoon chopped cilantro (plus sprigs for garnish)

Directions:
Place noodles in a bowl; add enough warm water to cover and let sit until soft, about 15 minutes. Drain. Combine broth, pepper, garlic, ginger, lemon zest, lime zest, lemon juice and 3 tablespoon fish sauce in a medium saucepan. Season with salt. Bring to a simmer, add noodles and cook 3 minutes more. Using tongs, transfer noodles to a bowl and cover with foil to keep warm. Add mushrooms to broth; season with salt, if desired; simmer 3 minutes more. Add chicken and coconut milk and simmer, stirring, until chicken is just cooked, about 3 minutes. Stir in spinach right before you're ready to serve, for about 1 minute or until it begins to wilt. Add chopped cilantro and season with remaining 1 tablespoon fish sauce. Using tongs, divide noodles among 4 bowls. Ladle soup into bowls and garnish with sprigs of cilantro and slices of pepper.

Have a fantastic weekend all you marvelous, talented people. The sun just came out here.