I had a lovely "coffee" with one of my networking buddies yesterday, a fellow Hampshire graduate who is very active in local cultural productions. He consults, writes, serves on cultural/arts boards such as that of the emergent "PINE" film festival, helps bring speakers into town, and has spent time producing events and radio broadcasts such as a recent series celebrating the Lewis and Clark bicentennnial.

Understandably, then, after we discussed a lecture I'd attended by Terry Tempest Williams, he asked if I'd seen any other interesting things lately -- movies, art, "cultural stuff."

I was momemtarily stumped by that question; my life is full to bursting with engaging cultural experiences, which blur the distinction between ordinary and art. But I don't tend to keep a tally. I also tend to feel shabbily unaware of "popular culture" events, broadcasts, and art. Movies, musicians, names, titles tend to escape my memory at the slightest excuse.

Lately, instead of movies or books affecting my experience of life, I've been noticing the importance of connections to people. I've enjoyed deepening my relationships with family, old friends, new acquaintences, and complete strangers. I do read, and watch DVD's for relief -- but this is the least remarkable part of my day.

Among other recent pleasures:

Peak Oil had a potluck and contra dance, with a band from Greenfield of all places. (I danced there while at Hampshire College.)

I knitted a shawl for me, and a hat for my mom, out of some of my New Zealand wool. My cousin Emily and friend Kristi helped me get the necessary needles, hooks, and techniques.

I enjoyed good food and company at two Thanksgivings, several dates with friends, and my mom's 50th birthday party. My family's cooking and conversation might qualify as "art" in some circles; my aunt Jane's watercolors, always on display at their gracious home, certainly do.

I attended Stuart Cowan's lecture on "Multinationals and Multi-Locals" at PSU. I got there late, and wasn't as engaged by the main topic as I might have been -- it's starting to feel like old ground. But some specific pictures of projects, especially the "Goa 2100 plan" and urban zero-waste development projects, were very interesting.

A friend from church invited me to an opening at LauraRusso gallery last month; some good landscape/garden works, though I'm too critical to enjoy even excellent work without also noticing shortcuts or lapses of vision. I have high standards for "realism," and for pattern-richness: art that lives up to my sense of the depth, structure, and nature of reality. My art-viewing friends do seem to enjoy watching me engage with these details, though.

This "art" scene was no more or less compelling or memorable than several recent conversations that I've had, just in passing.
On the MAX the other day, I spoke anonynmously with a thoughtful young poet, an older man who likes to walk in Forest Park when it snows, and a young woman from Montana. We started with the weather, and went on to explore topics like family and roots, the importance of quiet pleasures; the healing power of writing about trauma and pain. We ended up discussing Portland history with attention to racial, political, and environmental highlights; and the balance between optimism, pessimism, and the search for justice.
Another conversation occurred when I was house-sitting for a former teacher -- and welcoming one of her current students who came late to a scheduled work session. This time it wasn't lofty topics, so much as a deep sympathy with the search for value, partnership, motherhood, and worthy ambitions to create a full life. I felt more blessed by the personal connection, the potential for friendship, than by the startling coincidence that the husband she found is a man I know because of his local work, and both of them are active in fields of great interest to me.

Are these all "cultural" experiences? Are they entertainment?
Or are they something deeper that obviates the need for packages and plans? One of the things I'm most enjoying about this phase of life is the opportunity for living with integrity -- not by a negative definition of avoiding dishonor, but by seeking out and living up to the things I value most.
I do enjoy "high art," literature, and the chance to interact with high-calibre thinkers and creators. But I know my own literary and artistic skills can serve as a mask, defying personal vulnerability. I'd sooner spend time in the studio than the gallery.
Volunteering with Illahee, City Repair, The Natural Step, is a chance to get inside the lives of some of my personal heroes and inspirations. To see the nature of their work. Other groups, like my family and the Peak Oil discussions, heighten my sense of connection, and lend perspetive on what goals might be suitable for my work in the world.

I feel deeply satisfied when my participation in something that seems right, reconnects with other interests and relationships. With each connection that comes full circle, I feel like I'm getting somewhere: that this search is not endless, but is connecting me with a real arena and community.
These daily exercises in the "art" of life -- awareness, personal participation, productivity, finding common ground -- are indispensable for me. They feel both more wholesome and more vivid than movies or books that I could quickly name.

I know that "production" media, galleries and books and lectures and events, movies and television and radio, create common access to compelling visions, and serve as cultural and storytelling centers. I can't ignore the power of participation in these media; and I also want to find out about the people and ideas that are already "out there," transforming and renewing and inspiring our culture. It would take miracles to put me directly in touch with such people, without becoming aware of them through mass media.
Yet paradoxically I resist the powerful media of mass-broadcast. I feel out of the loop on music, television, movie release dates, and even sometimes current events. Instead I seem to be favoring a quixotic pattern of exploring culture on the ground level, one personal experience at a time, with only occasional supplemental reading and viewing as suggested by more media-aware friends.

* * *

I'm soon [hopefully!!!!] to finish a report I'm working on for the Village Building Convergence. It's composed of pictures and text, documenting the events and projects that took place during VBC5, last May, in Portland.

I've just realized, this is not just an excuse to build software skills and demonstrate my writing abilities. It's also an exercise in documentation, something which has been an area of personal handicap and regret in my past life.
Whenever it comes time to pull together a portfolio or resume, I am driven to gather more skills, do more projects, to 'fill it out." But I already have plenty of project experience. What's needed, really, is to document past projects well. The sets I designed and built for AHS theater, the curricula I developed for OMSI, would be ample evidence of my design and writing skills -- but I enjoy embarking on new projects more than tracking down old ones.