Autumn

The shift in seasons was evident when Dave left for school this morning -- suddenly it seemed so dark at 6:45 in the morning. The mornings are much cooler and I've been taking my sweatshirt along when I go out walking. We're supposed to have a relatively warm week this week, but soon it will be time to put the shorts away for good.

The view I posted back in July is changing. Some of the trees in our courtyard are yellowing and already dropping leaves. I love autumn, but there is a sort of built-in melancholy that comes with it, as the days shorten and the flowers begin to go to seed -- particularly since I've never been through a London winter and I don't quite know what to expect.

Our dinner for the head of Dave's department and his wife went well on Saturday. Dave's cooking, as usual, was superb, and at Dave's suggestion I rigged up a slideshow of some of my photography that ran on the television in the background during the evening. Our guests seemed interested in the photos and even said they might like to buy some! I'll have to think about how to manage that.

Speaking of which, I do need to start looking more seriously into earning an income. Our finances are fine, but I don't feel like I'm contributing enough to our household. I honestly don't think I have it in me to write a book or make money on freelancing -- I'm not a good salesperson, and I think anyone with the real potential to write a novel would be bursting with ideas and enthusiastic about the opportunity. I have neither ideas nor, to be honest, enthusiasm -- I've written a few pieces since we moved here but nothing that seems book-worthy or particularly marketable.

I've done some very preliminary looking into part-time jobs at a few places. I need to update the ol' resume and start looking more seriously. I'm not sure how many opportunities there are, given the economy -- which is no picnic, even here -- but I suppose it's time to wear out some shoe leather and at least try.

On the other hand, with the dogs arriving in less than two weeks, I want to be here to get them settled in -- I don't want to ship off to work too early. (I should be so lucky!)

(Photo: Doorknob in Finsbury, last week.)

Melon

This is my favorite photo from my walk yesterday, which took me east from the Finsbury area to Bethnal Green. Street art really can depict anything.

Tonight we're hosting Dave's boss and his wife for dinner, so we went out this morning and blew a wad of cash at the grocery store. We're serving butternut squash soup, scallops with asparagus, braised lamb shank with mashed potatoes and crispy kale, and poached pears for dessert. Of course, I say "we," but I'm serving in name only -- Dave is doing all the preparation. (I clean up, though!)

'Exit Through the Gift Shop'

I finally, finally, finally had an opportunity to watch Banksy's film "Exit Through the Gift Shop" last night. It was ultimately far more interesting and critical of the world of street art, and art in general, than I expected.

I thought the film would be a documentary about Banksy. Instead it's a documentary about the entire street art movement, and ultimately an "artist" who goes by the name of MBW, or Mister Brainwash. MBW is the camera-happy cousin of another street artist, Space Invader, and through that connection he began meeting many artists and filming them at work. He met some of the most well-known image-makers on the streets, such as Swoon and Shepard Fairey.

Challenged by Banksy to make his own art, MBW puts a few pieces on the street, and eventually goes all-out and mounts a huge show in Los Angeles which sells nearly a million dollars worth of art. In documenting the evolution of this show, though, the movie questions MBW's artistic chops and the phenomenon of street art as a whole. Is MBW really making art, or just churning out some vague approximation and selling it to gullible suckers? Is art merely a cool image, no matter how derivative? Does it have to be important, or is it enough to be rebellious or fun? Does it have to be made by the artist himself, or is it sufficient for an artist to provide direction -- as MBW does -- to a team of printmakers?


The movie made me ponder the line between graphic and fine, or meaningful, art. (Or, indeed, whether such a line really exists.) Take Andy Warhol. To me, Andy Warhol was a brilliant graphic artist, but his artwork doesn't reach a higher plane -- particularly now, viewed in retrospect. And despite my love of street art, I think many street artists are similarly talented at creating images, but not necessarily images that push the boundaries of expression and viewer experience.

I like graffiti and street art because it's democratic. It's there for everyone, and it's part of a sociological conversation that occurs on the streets for all to see. While some of the art enriches the artists indirectly, by raising their profile, I don't think many make a living at it. (Banksy, whose work does transcend graphic art, is an exception.)

MBW is a lesser Andy Warhol, and even derives much of his imagery from Warhol. The movie left me feeling a bit taken for having merely photographed his work. But on the other hand, it's on the street, it's part of the dialogue, so why not?

Top: Banksy, New York, October 2008
Bottom: MBW, New York, October 2009

Smile

I am having one of those technologically challenging days, when nothing computer-related seems to want to work right. I tried to update my iTunes and my iPod by neatly classifying all my music into genre-based playlists, so I no longer had the jarring experience of switching directly from Pink Floyd to Handel while playing my iPod. But now I'm having trouble shuffling songs within the playlists -- my iPod seems to want to shuffle everything, in all the playlists, or nothing at all. Very perplexing.

I was entertained while working on my classifying, though, because iTunes already puts music in certain categories -- and they can be very bewildering. For example, Percy Faith's "Theme from 'A Summer Place' " (which I do have on my iPod, and I quite like, thank you very much) is listed as "New Age," a genre that hadn't even been invented when that record came out. KD Lang is automatically labeled "Country," no matter what she's singing. Sometimes The Beatles are "Pop," and sometimes they're "Rock." And the soundtrack from the Shirley MacLaine movie "Sweet Charity," from 1970, is classical.

Whatever.

Flickr is also misbehaving, requiring me to upload photos one at a time for some mysterious reason. And I had some trouble backing up some music and videos to CDs and DVDs. Hmmm...

So let's all just take a moment to smile, shall we? If you need a prompt, how about this photo? You gotta love someone who bothers to draw a smiley face on a squashed piece of gum on the sidewalk.

War Ration Book

While going through some old paperwork, I came across the World War II ration books belonging to my grandparents, mother and uncle. This is my grandfather's book. It includes some unused stamps for items including bread and produce.

This really shows how the war affected everyone and their consumption of even the most basic goods. It's hard to imagine being rationed bread or potatoes.

I posted this on Facebook and I think some of my friends thought I was trying to make a political point, or contrast between then and now. Honestly, I just thought it was interesting from a historical perspective. I guess it does show how everyone was united in the war effort back then, unlike our subsequent wars, which have been more divisive and less clearly defined. But agriculture and manufacturing are so different now -- I'm not sure you could make a meaningful comparison with what was going on in the 1940s.

Zen

So whatever happened to all that zen stuff, anyway? I wrote a lot about my practice in the early days of this blog, but in the last year or two it's taken a back seat to all the other adjustments in my life.

Well, I'd like to think it's still with me, though to be honest my practice has been pretty slack for the past year or so. I've meditated occasionally, but I haven't returned to practicing with a group since I left the Zendo and Manhattan in late 2009. I made some half-hearted attempts to find a group in New Jersey but never actually went. If "everything is practice," as they say, you could argue that I never stopped, but I don't feel like my day-to-day life held much awareness of the Dharma.

Now, in London, I'm starting to sit again, though so far only at home. I'd like to return to more active, conscientious practice, but I have mixed feelings about rejoining a Zendo. I sort of like reading and sitting on my own. Maybe that's because it doesn't challenge me to leave my comfort zone and do things I'd rather not, like take up a service position or go on a weeklong silent retreat in the heat of August. Maybe I'm just a Buddhist lightweight. Or maybe, to be less judgmental about it, this is merely more my style.

In any case, now that life is settling down, I hope to once again practice more actively. In addition to sitting, I've been trying to incorporate some Dharma study into my days as well. I've been rereading a few books on the fundamentals, like Robert Aitken's "Mind of Clover," and I've been scouting out some Zen blogs on the Web.


My photography has helped by keeping my eye fresh, helping me appreciate the newness of my environment and society. The street art isn't as great a component of my photography here -- perhaps because there's just not as much of it as there is in New York. That's been a nice change too. I'm seeing a greater variety of subjects, like the sun-seekers in this churchyard near Russell Square yesterday.

I shot the scene from a couple of angles, and these are my two favorites. I like the bottom photo because the guy in back isn't blocked by one of the guys in front -- but I like the straight-on cleanliness of the top photo, too.

Quiet Weekend

This is my favorite photo from my walking tour around Brick Lane last week. I like it even more than the Goat of the Empire.

Not much happening today. I spent this morning reading and cleaning, and this afternoon I walked around King's Cross and down into Clerkenwell and Holborn. Got some photos that might be nice.

We spent the weekend mostly holed up inside, watching movies. We finally got the proper cable to hook our computer to our TV, so we can watch DVDs on the large screen. (As opposed to the computer.) We watched "The Fugitive," "The Shawshank Redemption" and "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert," always a favorite for me.

I also inflicted on Dave the episode of "That Girl" in which Ethel Merman comes to dinner and cooks stuffed cabbage. Don't these sorts of things happen in real life?