Memorial day

Last Saturday. I, for the first time, sold a piece of art at the gallery where I have been working. It was one of war rugs made by Afghanistan women in Afghan. It is absolute hand made. The subject matter is wars and arms such as fighters, helicopters, and guns are patterned in the rugs. From a far distance, you will not know what the rugs are about. When you see them closer, you will see those patterns. They are contradictorily beautiful. They are not to fantasize the wars. They are just Afghanistan reality or our life. When you confront on them, you are actually exposing the reality: you might almost hear sorrows of Afghan women. The buyer was a young artist who was stunned by the image and beauty of the rugs. I didn't expect him to purchase it, but he did one week after he had seen them. I was really happy about the first sale However, I was even happier about the fact that my first sale was the artwork by the anonymous people, the fact that the buyer genuinely appreciated the value of the work. I shall say, he got art for art's sake, not for any other reason like as an investment. It gave me such great feeling. I was a mediator. The rugs came to NYC from Far East, Afghan and I connected it to somebody in the US. That is the business where I am. I felt, "yes!" I am not selling a car, clothing, a tobacco, or a poison. I am not sure about the necessity of arts, but for sure, I am selling beauty. I am selling artist's children. It will not matter for me whether the artist is first-rate or an anonymous. It was the memorial weekend. The Memorial Day was for the soldiers in the US and I sold the rug from Afghan. Couldn't it be more coincidental or contradicted? Plus, That was my first sale. Indeed, it was my memorial day. Pray for peace and will not forget the day.

Intersection in life

"Is he an Italian artist, isn't he? ...yeah, he made maps? Boetti?" On the way to the dentist last Monday, when I was reading a biographical book, " Alighiero e Boetti, Shaman-Showman," on a bench at Union Square station, a guy sitting next to me started talking to me. "He died young, right?" "Yes, for his brain cancer." Our conversation continued from the bench on Union Square to 8th street on N line. I told him that I am working at Esso Gallery, where 3 shows of Boetti were exhibited. He knew Esso in the former place, which was in LES and often went to see the shows. He didn't know that the gallery had moved to Chelsea like every gallery, so I gave him the new address. We shook hands and he got off the subway. It was like 5mins talk, yet was surely precious and very NYish. This kind of encounter would happen every corner of the streets in the city. It is just an encounter, but who knows this will be the significant meeting later! In fact, almost 3 years ago, I met an Austrian guy in a supper market in UPE and we sort of fell in love with each other immediately spending together for a week. He left, as he was in the middle of traveling. However, we kept in touch by email for a long time and became really good friend, even though we've never seen each other since then. I met Mr. 99 on the bus station and now he is my editor...! Of course, some people were passer-bys, yet I never forget the feeling of the people. Life is totally unpredictable and here “unpredictable” can be anything. I have no idea who he is and I may not see him ever again. I just LOVE this coincidence and always wondering like, if I hadn't read the book, if I hadn’t left my house on that time, if I hadn't been working at Esso, if I hadn’t had huge toothache, if I hadn’t' come to NYC in the first place, (I have to stop here, but I can go back until the fact of my birth) I would not have met him and had the conversation.... isn’t it crazy? At least, this made me a day! Thanks to the great and world widely well-known Italian artist, Boetti, whom I hadn't known until I started working at Esso, brought this incident. He connected his creation, Afghan culture and world together in his map embroideries. Like that, here in NYC, we, New Yorkers, interweave our stories and drama in layers and layers and become invisible yet sensible art works, which is why this city is beautiful and we can’t stop loving.

When night comes,

my mind becomes calm. I guess that is because I was born at night. On Sunday night, without any plan, I am home, writing this with a cup of tea and jazz music. What a luxury night. Especially in a city like NY where people never stop, cutting myself from it brings a sense of exclusiveness. The only thing is lacking here would be a view from my windows. I am on the ground floor and the view from the window is a building and gigantic radiators. No natural light, no sky. It is not romantic at all. Well, we need to compromise one thing in NY Apartment. My dream is to live in a house with windows that have natural scenery. Then, I will not need to put up paintings home. There, I will have seasonal views through the windows, which will never be the same. All I need there are a huge wooden table and my computer. I easily imagine myself writing something there, looking at the views. I am happy now, although I wasn't during the day. I have been ill for two weeks having so much pain in my body. Waking up already feeling pain, I distracted myself doing food shopping, cooking and cleaning. I was annoyed with not having enough quarters for laundry and rejection from Duane Read to break one-dollar bill to quarters. I was annoyed with myself not being in a good condition for a long time. Ha, Emotions are such unpredictable. Like the whether in NY, yet it is natural to have emotions' swings. If the windows that have all seasons and all the weather look beautiful to me, me becoming really emotional would not be so bad. I may just desire to be really humane. Well and yes, having said that, I am happy to the point where I can feel what I am feeling.

just one phase

I happen to be in NY now, getting involved with art business. That would be one phase of my life. 5 years later, who knows what I will be doing. I am saying this, as I played various roles in life...like an uptight girlish girl, a manger for an American football team, a surfer, a hippie, a depressed girl and woman, a dj and etc. There are, in the world, two types of people: people who know the mission of life in their young age, and people who get it later along their long journey. Needless to say, I am the latter. Since I was little, I was already sort of depressed. I found life hard and sad. Without knowing what I was doing, I was putting a mask in order to fulfill other's expectation, especially for my mother. Those times, I was just sad and deeply lonely without any friend. I could not go on like the way I lived, so I flew to Australia. There, I felt spark of light and freedom for life, seeing many inspiring and ambitious people. At the same time, I felt left behind from the world and still didn't know much about life. At my age of 26, I finally figured what was wrong with myself. I realized that I was completely faking myself and depending on outside sources for happiness. That was like a huge thunderstorm. I felt embarrassed with myself and it was too late to start all over again. From that point, though, I tried to do anything that would excite me from deep inside in order to know who I really was. First, I jolted down things I liked and disliked on a note pad. Then, I got crazy: ACTIONS. I traveled to Asia. I started surfing. I took whole bunch of drugs like E or L in rave parties for a while. I lived in a remote island where it took 26hours by a boat, which was the only way to get to. (I seriously thought I would be a hippie, yet obviously it didn't last.) I went to countryside to look for a farm job. I had different type of meditation retreats and attended many New Age sessions. Stupid? I can laugh at the facts that I changed so much, but I was fxxking serious. I just WANT to know what I WANT to do for life. Only that curiosity made me live. After feeling tired of moving and doing, I took any job opportunity that came along through my friends. I was a curator and a manager for an Australian singer. I did a lot of volunteer jobs for the international artists' organization and Dalai Lama's office in Tokyo. Whatever. I was an outsider. I keep some and left some. Now, I am here. Someone like me who never stayed in one place for more than 7 months and who never was consistent has been here for 4 years. Why? Not because I liked NYC, but my determination was solid to the point where I felt that this would be the last chance for me to keep on one thing. I still don't know who I am and the true mission for my life. However, I am not searching for it any longer. That will come along. Surely all those experiences and actions enabled me to see things openly and feel people closely from their point of view, as I played the roles fully wihtout doubt at the time. Plus, I learnt two things that 1) full involvement with whatever you are doing takes you to the next step, 2) whenever you realize what you are doing is not so right, then accept it and make immediate and elegant shift without holding onto it. I don't know when but I know that I will be given another role when the time comes. Could be a monk? Could be a mother? Could be anything? I only surrender, but fully conciously.

What if?

Well, I talked about me being an observer yesterday; so let me explain it much deeper. Once in a while, I stop, as these thoughts or assumptions come to my mind. " What if what I have been experiencing is just illusion or a big joke?" " What if I wake up and find myself in a total different planet?" " What if the earth explodes right now and right here? " It may sound stupid, but I am serious. If we are not capable of answering even by now the universal mystery: the question of which comes first, the chicken or the egg, you cannot completely deny all those what-ifs. Then, those what-ifs lead me to wonder, " What's the point of me being too serious about life anyway? All the struggles, sorrows, conflicts with others, aspiration, desire have no meaning to me. Here, the feeling of " what-so-ever, “ gives me both pessimistic and optimistic perspectives. I feel like being a monk, which is apparently extreme point of view. As the optimistic side, I see life as a theater. In other words, I can be anyone and do anything. So, I stop, wonder, imagine, think and feel either depressed or energetic. Always the order is same. What are sure and consistent are that those undeniable what-ifs certainly give me a sense of objectivity. Even in the middle of my emotional upheaval, 1% of myself, quietly and coolly, is there to observe 99% of uncontrolled myself. Do all have this kind of experience? Sometimes, I feel a bit sad about the fact that I can't be fully in all the happenings and all my emotions. However, I will leave a space in my mind for those what-ifs as a hope to be able to know unknown. Otherwise, life could be too much.

an observer

I often find myself an observer rather than a participant. I am not sure if this is originated from the culture, or my upbringing, or simply my nature. Is that good or bad? Yes, it's good sometimes, as it allows me to see the whole scene or situation in an objective way. Yet, it’s bad sometimes, as I feel isolated. Last night, Mr. 99, the publisher as well as my friend, took me to an after party of a XX gallery opening. So as of the case, I was fully the observer. The party was held at a collector's house in the Upper West Side. The apartment was on the high-floor in a hip high-rise building. Paintings were filled with the almost entire walls and sculptures were placed everywhere, but I shall say that the taste was horrible.... I was rather drawn to the view of Manhattan from the windows. In fact, Mr.99 and I were like tourists taking pictures of each other with the view, which nobody cared. People looked fancy of course. I didn’t feel belonged of course. After the speech of the artist and the owner of the gallery, they announced of the artist's daughter (looking like 8 or 9 years old) playing a violin. "Here it is," I thought.... If I had known about it, I would have brought ear caps. Everybody took seats ( I was wondering where the chairs came from...too many for one's apartment.) and sort of tense air was filled in the room. " Atchoo!" Here I was, I did it in the most tense and quiet moment of the night. "Right on time," Mr.99 laughed. I made my full effort to hold my laugh. After a while, I realized that she was unexpectedly great. Her violin was so tuneful and touching that I forgot about where I was. In front of fully decked-up adults, with her serious face, she played two tunes putting her full emotions. She was more shining than the jewels on the people, more beautiful than all the paintings on the wall. I can visualize the party scene still now, but what etched into my heart were the view of Manhattan and her violin. Well, this is the kind of party where I appreciate my skill to be an observer.

"There are souls

in this world which have the gift of finding joy everywhere and of leaving it behind when they go," by Frederick William Faber. The words traveled from Finland by mail last week. My friend, Orvokki, often, send me a letter with some postcards, scraps and so forth. This was also from her and an apt remark for me. Having felt void after my mom's departure, today I feel much stronger. The big pimple on my forehead was gone and my emotion level became calm. Somehow, my mother left me a sense of strong ness in a way. I have seen that she feels lonely but tries to live fully by herself in Japan. Here again, I am alone as well, but I am happy. I feel that the city is my home at the moment, having beautiful friends, fun work at the gallery and more. Plus, the fact that I have dear friends like Orvokki in the world gives me great strength. Time flows. Spring has come. My pimple disappeared. All the good memories are yet in my heart. I feel not bad, no...actually pretty good.

Angel

After having seeing my mother off at the airport, I met Marguerita yesterday. As I wrote about her in my blog before, I visited her studio last summer to see her artworks. Since then, we have been building up our friendship and also trying to work together. She is an only child who lost her father at her young age and was brought up by her mother. Their relationship, of course, was close and tight until her mother had passed away. Because of our similar situation, besides my love for her artworks, we were emotionally connected to each other. So, we are like sisters now. The primal reason to get together yesterday was that she insisted on me taking to the clinic where she was taken care of. On the way there in the train, she asked me, " How's your mother? Are you ok?" " I am sad and tired...," I responded and could not hold my tears. She also started crying and saying, " I know exactly how you feel. I am still missing my mother." We cried together all the way. Our attmept to see the doctor failed, as I didn't have the insurance. Honestly, I knew that I would not be able to see him, yet I wanted to see her to distract myself anyway. After failing to see the doctor and getting off the subway, we cried again in the middle of the street. She apologized," I am your older sister and will take care of you." Despite her many struggles and difficulties as an artist and a wife at the moment, she still tried to help me out. On the sad day like yesterday, what I wish is true understanding or compassion. I don’t need advise, opinions or superficial kind words. I need someone like her, who deeply can put her in my skin, cry for me and be there for me. I am not so weak, so I don’t need to be with somebody all the time. However, her existence itself is significant to my life and gives me a great relief. Life is unpredictable. When I first met her, I didn't expect anything like this with her. She was sort of curt and very flamboyant. Yet, yesterday, I could not stop appreciating this mere chance to see someone like her. Thank god.

one unity

My mom left for Japan after having spent for about 2 weeks in NYC. I saw her off at the airport. Although I was annoyed once in a while with her presence here, when I hugged her tiny body, my stomach was turned around and I cried again. I have been going through this parting for more than 6 times, (either my leaving for NY or her leaving for Japan,) since I moved here, yet I never was able to get used to it. It is always painful to see her skinny and tiny back and her efforts to pretend to be fine and cheerful. On the way back, seeing the city views that I had seen with her just 1 hour earlier, I wanted to shout like "Life is not fair." Why I don’t have my father? Why is she alone? Why am I an only child? Otherwise, I would not have had to feel indescribable sadness and extreme responsibility and guilty towards my mother and myself. I accepted the fact that I had been born without knowing my dad and been an only child long time ago. However, the separation like this brought me all the complicated emotions over and over again: Once I was angry with my mom, as she was not emotionally available for me, when I was little. Now, she is expecting me to be available, though she doesn't say so. I feel pain for her nature where she can’t help living for others, but isn’t given much back. I've seen her pain for life in general, but she never really showed anybody including me. Instead, she tried to be always tough and proud. I asked myself again, " Why is she like this?" She is so adorable, but she is deep down so lonely. My father left her and me and I left her. Her nature always threw me the questions that I never could figure out. “ Was it the right choice to leave her alone? No, I need to have my life. “ I am still torrned by tow different ideas; freedom and responsibility I have been making so much effort to accept my background and let all the negative emotions go. Yet, still here, I have to face pain and sadness like today. Yes, no matter how hard the situation that is given to a human being is, he or she has to accept and learn from it. In my case, no matter how hard it was for me to leave her, I had to leave the nest and go on my own life like everybody else. To do so, I have to use more energy than people who have a normail family. Buddhism philosophy says, “We are all connected as one in a soul level. No death and life in the end. We are all potential to be Buddha, as we have Buddha’s nature inside. Life is given because of karma in the past lives. Therefore, there are always lessons to learn in life and obstacles to overcome “ OK, the only thing that may can relieve me would be to really experience about this: we are all connected as one unity. I do want that from the bottom of my heart, as I am emotionally drained.