Ahh ... Christmas in California. When I was growing up in Detroit, Christmas meant snowball fights, building snowmen, toboggan rides in Rouge Park, well ... you get the idea. It was cold and we had lots of snow.
In Northern California, Christmas means sort-of cold and rain. But I can deal with that. After years of shoveling snow off driveways and sidewalks I can appreciate a few puddles and Eucalyptus bark trash. Fortunately the houses in San Francisco get into the spirit and a lot of them decorate with brights lights and wreaths. Hey, there's even a big tree in Union Square.
But wherever you are, the Christmas story is the same. God takes pity on the human condition and sends us His son to show us the way of salvation. And in a deeper sense, He reveals to us that true creation is the reflection/expression of the One Creator.
Here's my three-legged stool prototype. It still has a few details that need to be worked out. But so far it meets the design requirements: it's comfortable and it uses less materials to perform its function (good old Mies --- "Less is more").
The Berkeley Art Museum featured a show from their collection of Japanese art. As a fan of all things Japanese, I looked forward to seeing it.
What is it about the way in which Japanese artists depict nature? With minimal brush strokes and color they can transport you right into the painting. You feel the snow and cold of a winter scene.
A porcelain cone, about 24 inches in diameter and 24 inches high stood inverted on its point on a stainless steel rectangle. The glaze was a light, iridescent blue on the outside and a white semi-gloss on the inside. The circle on the cone's rim was perfectly even except for a slight disfiguration. I learned this is called "wabi-sabi."
According to Wikipedia, the words wabi and sabi "... do not translate easily. Wabi originally referred to the loneliness of living in nature, remote from society; sabi meant "chill", "lean" or "withered". Around the 14th century these meanings began to change, taking on more positive connotations. Wabi now connotes rustic simplicity, freshness or quietness, and can be applied to both natural and human-made objects, or understated elegance. It can also refer to quirks and anomalies arising from the process of construction, which add uniqueness and elegance to the object. Sabi is beauty or serenity that comes with age, when the life of the object and its impermanence are evidenced in its patina and wear, or in any visible repairs."
The coffee table is a solid slab of California Walnut by artist-designer Jeffrey Dale.
For some time I've been musing about the connection/difference between art and craft. As a youngster I was told I had an artistic gift. I could draw things and they would look like the thing I was drawing. I liked being able to concentrate and let my hands work. It was -- and is -- a pleasant mind-hand connection.
What I've come to realize is that art is a way of seeing and craft is the effort you make in transcribing what you see into a work that others can see and appreciate. You can be a great artist yet a so-so craftsman. And you can be a very good craftsman yet have work that lacks an artistic vision.
This doesn't mean that a work of art can't have a spontaneous execution that is still workmanlike. Consider some examples of Chinese calligraphy where the brushwork has been done in quick strokes and looks simple yet elegant.
Also consider a painting by Frans Hals. His attention to detail is very workmanlike, yet his brushstrokes are quick and sure.
I must confess that whenever I look works of art I concentrate more on the workmanlike manner in which they have been done and find this to be just as pleasurable as the piece itself. If you ever get to see a piece by Donald Judd you'll see what I mean.
I've just finished Men at Work: The Craft of Baseball (George F. Will,
HarperCollins e-books).
It's primarily a great examination of the craft of baseball. And it's also a great look at what makes a craftsman.
Allow me to quote Mr. Will directly. "America has been called the only nation founded on a good idea. That idea has been given many elaborate explanations, but the most concise and familiar formulation is the pursuit of happiness. For a fortunate few people, happiness is the pursuit of excellence in a vocation. The vocation can be a profession or a craft, elite or common, poetry or carpentry. What matters most is an idea of excellence against which to measure achievement [emphasis mine]. ... As Aristotle said, happiness is not a condition that is produced or stands on its own; rather, it is a frame of mind that accompanies an activity. But another frame of mind comes first. It is a steely determination to do well."
Here's a stained glass window at Notre Dame Cathedral. It exemplifies excellence in labor.
As a native Detroiter, I grew up surrounded by the auto industry. There was a work hierarchy that was apparent -- management and labor. And the two seldom spoke to each other. They even lived in separate areas. This was too bad. Management needs labor and vice versa. Labor needs to be aware of the finer things in life -- the cultural opportunities that a liberal awareness of man's higher nature can offer. Management needs to be aware that manual labor is rewarding, honest, and spiritually satisfying.
My grandfather was labor. He worked for Ford as a tool maker. He was embarrassed by this so he never taught any of his four children how to work with their hands. My dad didn't even feel comfortable with a screwdriver. As a result my mechanical teachers were my peers. We worked on bikes and, later, cars. We customized them, tuned them up and repaired them.
Like all American parents, my dad wanted me to have a career in the white collar world. I tried to do this so I would please him. But it never really took. I loved working outside and I loved working with my hands. It was always satisfying to mentally see something you wanted to make and then doggedly pursuing it and overcoming all the challenges in the process. This is hard to explain to someone who doesn't work with their hands. To those who do, they will understand what I'm saying.
Our nation needs young people who are encouraged to work with their hands. Not everyone can or wants to be an investment banker (especially after 2008) or a computer whiz. Some of us are in love with manual labor. And we have good track records. The Wright brothers were bicycle mechanics. Edison was an inventor. Even Bill Gates quit Harvard to tinker with software.
Here's an armoire I made. I loved the challenge of being my own architect and carpenter.
We watched a DVD last night -- "Saving the Bay" (The story of San Francisco Bay, a PBS series).
I'm not sure how many are aware that the bay is really an estuary (a partly enclosed coastal body of water with one or more rivers or streams flowing into it, and with a free connection to the open sea.-- Wikipedia). The film highlights how valuable the bay is as an ecosystem. It shows how people gradually came to realize and value it as such. And it shows how a right idea has more power than greed or indifference.
So to celebrate "bayness" and help walk off a huge turkey dinner with all the fixins' we did the Russian Hill stairway walk (Stairway Walks in San Francisco Guide Book by Adah Bakalinsky with Marian Gregoire, Wilderness Press). This is a great way to explore the city's different neighborhoods and learn more about them while getting awesome views in the process.
Here are some photo highlights. They do poor justice to what the eye can see but give some hint of the natural beauty of our city.
Well, it's official. In their Tuesday, November 23rd issue, The Wall Street Journal reported that being grateful has been scientifically proved to improve your health, wealth, and happiness (see "Thank You. No, Thank You" pg D1).
That there is a correlation between gratitude and well-being comes as no surprise to many of us. It's really a "No Duh!" The Hollywood flick, "Little Miss Sunshine" showed how true gratitude and a positive attitude really can lead to a happy ending. And you can have fun along the way.
So in this time of economic worries, international crises, and political turmoil let's all list at least three things for which we're grateful. Maybe even keep a gratitude journal. Visit someone you know who's had a good impact om your life and tell them how much you appreciate them. Keep it going. See the blessings that we already have. .
As a member of BAWA (Bay Area Woodworkers Association), I've committed to a piece for an upcoming show at the Woodcraft store in San Carlos. I've long been attracted to the common tractor seat as the ultimate seat surface. It's contoured perfectly to fit the butt for those long days spent plowing or harvesting those crops.
Today's tractors, being bigger, have eschewed the old-timey metal seat for the automobile-type padded one. I'm not sure this is progress. The padded straight surfaces don't fit your butt like the metal contoured ones.
Anyway, the plan is to build a wood platform on which to mount the tractor seat. Then fabricate three contoured legs as supports. My seat research has shown that a height of 28 inches with a 15 degree slope to the front is desirable for ultimate comfort. This allows the spine to maintain its proper curve and makes for comfortable seating posture. The curved seat allows the ischail tuberosities (bony ends of the pelvis) to be suspended. This makes sitting more comfortable. I hope the end result will be (a) comfortable, and (b) aesthetically pleasing.
Stay tuned.
OK. So why bushido boy for a title? Good question. As a Gaijin, or non-Japanese, I can only 'splain things according to my own imperfect understanding. Take the word zanshin, for instance. It means "alertness." But what kind of alertness? As it originates in the martial arts, it basically applies to a mental attitude that you express after defeating an opponent. Say, for example, that you throw your opponent to the ground using some sort of joint manipulation. You yell at the moment of contact to give you extra force and as your opponent hits the ground you feel an adrenalin rush that makes you alert so that you see if your opponent is, in fact, subdued. This is the essence of zanshin.
You make sure that you're alert enough to see that your opponent is defeated. It's the opposite of hubris.
Bushido is another word that defies quick understanding. It includes the moral qualities that a warrior expresses such as honesty, faith, fidelity, sincerity, trust, confidence, and respect for others. Few really understand warriorship. It's not the Hollywood version of Kung Fu Chop Suey. The best example I ever saw out of Hollywood is David Mamet's film, Red Belt. And Mamet is a follower of martial arts so he knows that of which he writes. Another recent example of true warriorship were the interviews with Army Staff Sergeant Salvatore Giunta who was the recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor. The man expressed so much humility and confidence and sincerity and honesty. He defines bushido.
Living in San Francisco can be a delight. For this old southern boy it's a study in contrasts between our previous home in Charlotte and our new one in The City by the Bay.
For one thing the public transportation is wonderful. First of all you have a great Web site published by the SFMTA (San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency) or "Muni" for short. If you're not familiar with the city's routes you just enter your starting point and destination address, hit the "Plan your trip" button, and voila! It tells you which bus or train to take, where to get it, what the schedules are, and a detailed itinerary. Think of it as "Transit for Dummies!" It's a far cry from living in New York where the subway system can often be a hit or miss proposition (until you learn by suffering or science).
Anyway, here I am wanting to go to a jewelry store in Cow Hollow from West Portal. I take the 28 bus which goes north on 19th. It passes through Golden Gate Park and stops at the parking lot where you can off board (if you want) and walk the bridge. Then it continues down Marina Boulevard to Lombard Street where there's a plethora of motels and restaurants that cater to the tourist trade. (Sidebar: riding the transit in San Francisco -- as in other cities -- is a great way to learn more about the composition of the city. I was early surprised to see that a great percentage of the population is Asian. A far cry from Charlotte where Asian peoples are just not a major part of the urban makeup).
Too early for the jewelry store (it opens at 11 am), I slide over to one of the ubiquitous breakfast cafes cum coffeehouses that populate the city and duck in for a cop of joe. It's still sunny and warm and the place has lots of tables outside where you can sit and read and contemplate your navel. I took a couple of photos that interested me. One is a crate of oranges waiting to be turned into fresh orange juice. The sunlight was hitting them just so that they took on a special, almost sacred quality. Too bad the flash on the camera didn't allow this.
The other photo is of this glorious, wood bear with a salmon in his paws. He's about four feet tall and is probably carved from Redwood, given the gray patina. It's one of those serendipitous things that makes the city such a fun place in which to live.
Wow! We are entering our second week of pure, unalloyed sunshine. And warm! Yes, the peninsula's steady fog has given way to summer! In mid-November! This is too much for this transplanted Southern boy who's used to muggy summers followed by crisp autumns.
Yesterday our daughter called. She was off work and wanted to go for a ride. Since I'm semi-retired and keep my Goldwing at her place, I walked the three blocks over San Francisco's hills to Amy's. We saddled up the Wing and headed out on 19th for the Golden Gate Bridge and Marin County.
It still amazes me that I can live in a busy, urban area and yet be out in the rolling countryside in a matter of a half hour. When we lived in Charlotte, it would take a half hour just to get to one of the country roads that was fast filling up with the dragon's teeth houses of suburbia. Here we can be riding the twisty turneys right next to the Pacific Ocean in the same amount of time.
Anyway, up the 101 to Lucas Valley Road. Hang a left to some of the nicest two-laner curves around. Go through hilly, open country followed by the dark patches of Redwood forests. Past George Lucas' ranch and the blink-town of Nicasio to the Petaluma Road. Hang another left until you come to a narrow bridge on the right. Then down a swift twisty to Point Reyes Station.
If you look up the words "laid-back California," you'll see a picture of Point Reyes Station. Where else would you find the "Bovine Bakery"? And a sign on the men's room toilet at the local gas station with a coin-operated lock that says, "Yes, it's 25 cents. But isn't it worth it to make your bladder gladder?". And then in true California style it's open anyway.
