Morocco: Dancing between the Sacred and Profane

In India the seed was planted and the door opened

I had heard word of the Fez Festival of Sacred and Spiritual Music

And 3 months later I found myself at the doorstep of the Arab world

and entered     Fez, Morocco, where the Sacred is the puzzle piece linking history

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and expansive modernity

 

 

 

 

 

 

but the Profane likewise has its strong presence here, keeping balance

like yin-yang, or sound-silence                             the curious evil eye

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

kept its own watch over my journey

leading me face-to-face with deception

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and wandering ever deeper into the medina of my own twisted psyche  (dreaming of thick black snakes escaping into little cracks in white walls)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the chaos and confusion and the temptation and revulsion proved so overwhelming so as to lose myself in it all

forgetting where balance lies

forgetting what I came for

then faintly, tic tic, like a beat                          the sign appeared:

“music leads toward light”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and I am learning how to dance between the poles of the Sacred and the Profane

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

finding my poise again

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and exiting this funky cold medina

-once and for all-

through the keyhole back to sweet reality.

 

Wander Bred

Art is a fierce weapon

(leaving wounds dripping colors) against authoritarian solitude in urban landscapes

I am a tiny dreamer with a dancing dress on

I stretch my skin taut like a canvas  and repose against beauty                                                                               waiting to be painted,                 or for an artist to compose me

external inspiration pries the inner eye open

a new, venomous reality slithers down my throat

grabbing hold of my own defensive tools,        I head to the streets

meeting similar souls along the way

and slipping into our avatars we roam this new purpose                                                                                               trading skin for ink    (skin – s= kin ÷ nik = ink)                                                                                                      playing with temporary alchemy

knowing what becomes old will be born anew eventually anyway

racing toward the ripeness of my life

conceptions of love take shape and disperse again

Amy→ forever destined  to journey

I light wings on fire

it burns, abandoning stability

but with fingers grasping feathers etching dreams on paper

and with eyes fixed like stone reading the world’s story in in the language of maps

I wander: will anyone else comprehend?

A Summer Self-Portrait

Armed with a digital eye

I gather my resources, sling them around my wrist and take the world into the palm of my hand

Italy, an explosion of distinct perfumes poignant like womanhood

I take the beauty I find and weave it into my  hair, a living mosaic

flirting with life, who soon wants me to bear fruit

but first I take a step back and gaze at the ripe panorama

there are so many perspectives to be had on the world, so many directions spiraling out from this one moment, and so many patterns to be seen in the organization of all this living breathing beating shining wonder

in my hesitation mist rolls in and clouds my vision

Swallowing a magic bite I go out on a foxtrot in search of the bizarre

I discover a world of dark illusions, and even God, laughing at himself in bellows of thunder

In these moments I am something completely other, something extraterrestrial, far from Earth and blood and roots

and gazing at myself through myriad lenses, the storm begins to clear and I see before me a clear but empty shape, a womb,          a frame that is asking to be filled with my portrait

and slowly but strategically like the dawn I rise, expand, and evolve myself into this new space, all mine

And these seeds of light, these jewels of experience that I have collected along the way, I sow them carefully onto the canvas of my journey

knowing that as the summer of my life approaches they are sprouting into a language spelling out who I am

Like a Phoenix from the A.S.H.es

OOOOOOOOOUCH. Life came up and smacked me in the face

ONE TWO THREE FOUR

solid punches, blood dripping down my chin

in rainbow colors, covering me like body paint

Violence of the soul becomes art

and through that salty bitter ferrous flavor

I begin to beat again

I taste my heart’s liquid offering, I savor myself

like a fine wine

I read the hints and bouquets

BAM! A burst on the tongue

Music, poignant and fruity

full-bodied adventurous

subtle hints of language, poetry, art

travel and dream tannins

and my blood settles into deep ruby red

yes, I’m a delicate, alchemystic concoction

a genuine D.O.C.G.

opening up with exposure to air and elements

::::::::evolving:::::::

:::::::::::expanding::::::::::

::::::::::ripening::::::::::

the juice of this beating fruit.

Ireland: Part 2 (Limerick and The Burren)

Ummm, I know it’s a BIT late to post about Ireland, but better late than never….

Welcome to the gate of ancestral memory. The city of Limerick where my great-great grandmother Elizabeth Duffy lived until she was 10 years old and then emigrated to the United States. That’s all I know about her, except that she was quiet, small and drank a lot, and had a shock of bright red hair, not unlike the paint on this gate.

Limerick is a mysterious twist of turns and alleys, and everyone seems to be keeping a historical secret. After reading Frank McCourt’s Angelas Ashes, I can guess that this might be the suffering endured by growing up Irish Catholic up until about 20 years ago, but then again maybe it’s all in the name, Limerick: a riddle, a lyric trick.

I really think Ireland is a poetic place, and Limerick must have gotten it’s name somehow. Nature and the past seem to intertwine into a picture-perfect postcard image of your own sentimentality. At least I felt that way as an Irish-American stepping foot for the first time on Irish soil.

And so to the backdrop of limericks and faeries and folktales we set off on a journey to the Burren, a famous Irish lunar-like landscape.

Just perfect for playing and building stone people.

From there, the Cliffs of Moher, a powerful gust of wind, crashing waves and at the height of 200 meters the inevitable question of life and death right at your feet….

And taking it all in, reflecting on the root of origins, the meaning of place, if there really is a home, and if the heart lies there, what it means to be an American divided genetically into 7 or 8 different cultures, if cultural identity is essential or if being an individual is enough. I just keep rocking, back and forth, back and forth, present.

Ireland Part 1: Galway and the Mùscailt Festival

Yes, here’s my excited smile as we wait to board the plane to Dublin. The first time in Ireland for both Luca and I, a place that has always spoken to us because of our roots that in someway lead back there. I, like many Americans, have Irish roots, and although it was my great-great grandmother who was from there, it’s still the closest relative to me that immigrated from another  country. With family history in mind, and Luca concentrated on his project, we touched down in Ireland on the 4th of February, also both of our sisters’ birthdays (same year, too!).

One of the most impressive things about Ireland is the history and mystery left behind by the Celts. The island of Eire (“Ireland” in Irish) has been populated for something like 10,000 years, and although the Celts didn’t originate from Ireland, when they came to settle the island they created a strong culture and legacy.

Before coming to Ireland I read up a lot and so know that the photo above of a drain on the streets of Galway contains the Celtic symbol “triskele”, which is a three-part spiral radiating out from the same point. The Celts saw great importance in the number 3: earth, sea, sky; past, present,  future– a lot of important Celtic elements came in threes. The triskele is especially connected to the goddess in three phases: maiden-mother-crone, or with  the moon: new, waxing/waning, full.

And here’s another symbol on the Galway cathedral, the five-pointed star, representative of the sacredness of the human being, as in Da Vinci’s famous drawing.

So, welcome to Galway, and to Ireland in fact, home of Guinness, Smithwick, and pub culture general. Galway has a pretty good music scene, and most of it lives within the pubs, where you can here both modern bands and “trad” (traditional Irish music).

You can tell that Luca is more of a Smithwick guy.

Galway is on the west coast of Ireland, the capital so to say of what’s left of the Irish-speaking region of the country. People are very proud of this tradition, and most signs and official events are conducted in both English and Irish.

It is also one of the wilder parts of Ireland, with the Atlantic Ocean right there and somewhat abandoned landscapes. Luca and I took a bike ride one gorgeous Saturday along the coast, and as you can see there are just miles and miles of pastures with horses and farm animals along the coast….

And so now we have arrived at the National University of Ireland, Galway, the host of the Mùscailt Festival which brought Luca and I to Ireland in the first place. Traditional yet inviting, small-town yet big energy, Galway is a place that has seen the coming and going of foreigners (and it’s own people, for that matter) for hundreds of years. We felt completely welcome at the university, thanks to a wonderful and well-organized staff: James, Fionnuala, Kathy, Dierdre, Pilar.

And so, after a few days of renting tools, getting materials from the scrap yard, and organizing the space designated for Luca to build his sculpture (the tennis courts of the university), he began work!

What was at first going to be a large metal potato with fungus sinking in a ship became an interpretation of the space he was given to work in: two people looking at each other across a sort of net of communication. One of these people developed into the symbol of traditional Ireland with fixed roots, and the other became a representation of the country’s will to move ahead. From this the idea if the women-harp grew, with a sea of symbols and possibilities in front of her.

:::::::::INTERMISSION:::::::::

Time to introduce the stars of the show, Luca Ciavarella, and his goat:

and Amy Hough, with hers:

Supporting actress, housemate for three days and provocative artist from Manchester, England, Sue Fox:

And now, back to our program on Flirt FM with host James Fleming and guest, metal artist Luca Ciavarella:

::::::::::ACT TWO:::::::::::

Fixing the gate of language, history and new ideas, the younger generation starts to take notes.

Putting in the last touches, shining the roots of this 12-foot sculpture which was completed by one man in 5 days….. and…..

….vio là! The finished sculpture of the beautiful harp-maiden of Ireland. Here’s the full analysis:

The sculpture “Tradition of Change” by metal artist Luca Ciavarella was constructed entirely from used scrap metal and represents the harp as a symbol of Ireland. Inside the frame of the harp, the form of a woman dressed in patchwork of blue, green, gray, and brown emerges, symbolizing the union of diverse counties and agricultural regions of Ireland. Thick tube roots below and a lightweight bicycle-wheel head with wings above represent, on the one hand, deep tradition, and on the other thought in motion, discovery, travel and desire to look ahead. As on every island, the sea has a powerful presence in Ireland, and this fact manifests itself as the second important element of the installation. The harp-woman looks out over a sort of “sea of languages, knowledge and written histories” in front of her, represented by a rusted panel of strange shapes that remind us of hieroglyphs which is accentuated by computer chips added by the artist.  Furthermore, the panel offers the space for two languages, English and Irish, to co-exist. Finally, the sculpture, which was designed and developed in the context of the tennis courts at NUI Galway, remains connected to its environment in the sense that, by looking at the installation with the artist’s eye, you see a player (the harp) on one side of a net (the panel). Who she is playing with is up to the viewer to imagine.

And so there is a happy ending to this tale of an artist and his little helper, who went off to Ireland to seek the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It is likely that the university will buy the sculpture and keep it on campus! Thanks to the help of the faeries and leprechauns, and just plain wonderful people that we met along the way.

Maloja Palace and Haunting Beauty

A SONNET FOR MALOJA

The chance to escape,

with heart’s wings soaring,

from Berlin’s collective chaos,

to the Engadin’s magic solitude (((roaring)))

An unexpected vision,

of footprints pressed in time,

the characters take their place,

and the music begins to mime

stories of how grand the palace once was,

tales of a dying countess’ love,

a village built where three rivers spring,

vitality which hard work can bring,

the old that melts

so well into new

an artist’s wealth,

a rich man’s hue.

– Amy Hough

Just the Beginning of the Rainbow

The first few months in a new city is like throwing yourself hardcore into the battle of survival of the fittest. Finding work, friends, something fun to do at night, enough geld to live. And this is the moment we find ourselves in now: Every day is a surprise, good or bad, always different. A sculpture sold assures us we can pay our rent next month, job interview rejection brings up doubt, an opportunity to travel to Switzerland for a week´s work seems a gift from some higher power. Each disappointment is compensated with an even better chance that gleams out of the corner of our eyes.

And thus we have been on the prowl for work. Me mostly. I´m a beast turned loose on Berlin, pouncing on any little squeak of a job.

Yes, I went so far as to make a T-shirt advertising myself (Hey, the unemployment rate here is 13%. I needed to make myself visable somehow!). But with that said, the work I have found I adore. After years of teaching English and music to rowdy Italian kids, I feel more than adequately prepared for my job as part of the Storytime Books staff, where I read stories and sing songs with the comparedly well-behaved German children.

Adding literature to my mix of songs and gestures has been an unexpected delight (mostly for me!). The kids love it, too, of course, but I have been thoroughly enjoying exploring the world of children´s literature through my almost infinite access (and in two languages, at that!) to books at the bookstore, where I do these sessions of reading and music. I have also met some very interesting people who write their own music for children, which I have come to respect and admire as an important part in bettering the world (and also a possible future venture for myself!).

Something else I´m looking forward to is this almost random, yet I want to believe destined, opportunity to go to Switzerland for a week to work a private party at the Maloja Palace in St. Moritz, one of the wealthiest areas of Europe. The huge historic hotel (think, The Shining), undergoing restoration, will be hosting a private party for the owner´s friends, who are mostly Italian or English speakers. That´s where I came in. A stroke of luck had it that a place opened up for Luca to come along, too! So we´ll both be going in December. Look at those gorgeous mountains!

And so we are happy, for the time being.

Grateful for what life has presented as gifts to us, and proud of the strength we have as two people who go whole-heartedly after our dreams.

Luca´s side of the story is more intriguing every day. Lately he´s been selling sculptures as if they were kebabs out on the street. He has a hot spark inside of him, in the place where art is born, that drives him to create, believe in what he´s made, and make others stop and stare. He has the necessary ability to convince people to buy his art. But they don´t need to be convinced that it´s beautiful.

Both of these have sold, by the way, for several hundred Euros. Just to brag a bit.

It is amazing to follow the path of a visual artist. The excitement when you realize he has real talent, disappointment when he becomes too critical of his art. One thing for sure is that the art itself evolves, begins to grow its own spirit, has a character, and has to be both stimulated and disciplined, like a child. Or a walrus?

Some of the possibilites that pop up every day at Tacheles for Luca include going to build a sculpture from scrap metal at a festival in Ireland, someone making a documentary about his art, going to Paris for an exhibition, making a sculpture for an emergency waiting room. All of them within his reach, but never garanteed. Because art, in the end, is a risk.

Last weekend Manuela Barile, experimental vocalist, performance artist and friend, came to stay with us in Berlin while she was in town for two performances. We bothed lived with her at separate times in Bologna. It was amazing to have her here, and realize how much we´ve all grown up in the past two years. She has a one-and-a-half-year old son, and a professional career as an artist and director of Binaural Media (www.binauralmedia.org), one of the more important art associations in Portugal.

Her performance was fantastic, a mix of vocal and theatrical improvisation. She amazes me, because when she´s on stage it´s like she´s another person, or rather, possessed even, by a spirit that wants to play with our function as an audience as well as her own limits as an artist. Truly spectacular.

And so we are just at the beginning of the rainbow, and rising. The future holds more interviews, more propositions, more sculpture, more unexpected surprises. And that, it seems, is our little pot of gold that keeps us going.

Am I a Berliner yet?

No Amy, you’re not in Romania anymore. No more nice and punctual, once-a-week updated blogs. No more sweet pictures of little old grandmas on the farm. This is Berlin. Don’t expect a smile from the LIDL lady, or from the bus driver, either, for that matter. There was a wall once here, you know.

No Amy, this is not LA anymore. People don’t say the exact opposite of what they mean while flashing that plastic smile, protecting you, at least, from the truth. They say what they mean, with all it’s weight. No more flip-flops in October.

No Amy, this isn’t even Italy anymore. No more loud voices in the streets. No more curious eyes when you say you are American ( I think they’re way too used to it). No more good wine. No more blasphamies.

No, this is BERLIN. It’s cold. It’s grey. It’s on the 4th floor with no elevator. It’s a language where the verb always comes at the end and the articles have three different genders. It’s graffitti. It’s Tacheles. It’s power control. It’s artist-controlled. It’s German babies that speak English at the age of 2. It’s no work. It’s cheap housing and cheap vegetarian kebabs. It bikers and bakers. It’s Turkish. Re-construction. Fighting for the next brilliant business idea.

For Luca and I it’s the turning of a page. A risk, an attempt to put down roots in a place that’s foreign to both of us. A chance to develop our skills as artists and expand our understanding of the world. The prospect of becoming a part of a city that’s still getting it’s post-war facelift. And here we are.

THE OSTSEE

For those of you who imagine Germany as being cold, full of beer and mountains and, well, cold, you’re not mistaken. But I bet you haven’t really considered the German seaside. SEASIDE?! Yes, Germany has a (small) stretch of coast at the north. Luca and I visited when I got back from work in Italy in mid-September, and found it relaxing and beautiful. Cold, but beachy all the same.

This is the Thank-God-I’m-at-the-beach-after-months-in-the-city power pose. We fasted and did yoga on the beach, drove through the forest and past houses with thatched roofs, drew pictures and planned our upcoming year in Berlin. We were relieved to finally be moving into our new flat on Karl-Kunger-Strasse, former East Berlin, up-and-coming Alt-Treptow area near the canal, river, park and Kreuzberg, infamous Turkish, student, going out, a little grungy zone. Ahhh, home.

                 And so, we moved into our glorious new home………………………………………………………………….

      Ha ha, just kidding. We’re not quite that high-class yet. But our pad is noble just the same: a pre-war building that looks like it survived a war (see below). It’s spacious, funky, and has an awesome view of the Fernsehturm (TV Tower), Berlin’s icon. We have a neighbor on each side of us: a sweet mid-50s lady and her 14 year-old daughter who has invited us to brunch and who saved our butts with the Phone Company, and on the other side, Zamira, a West-German Berlin post-wall settler who has pictures of zoo animals all over his front door.

So this is the Karl-Kunger blockbuster. Not a looker, I admit, but a look-from-er. We can see a lot of green from the park and the tower and the rest of the city beyond. See the balcony way up top? Not the one with all the green plants (that’s Zamira’s), but the half cut-off one to the left above the tree? That’s us!

As for work, it’s a little harder to come by here. Although what I’m about to explain will sound great, we haven’t quite made it to the self-sufficient level yet. Finding work is difficult, and we’re feeling it. But at least we have a few things on the table. For starters, I’m working at a children’s bookstore called Storytime Books, doing a few hours a week reading stories in English, singing English songs, etc. It’s really fun. I have a few private lessons and a babysitting job. Up until Tuesday I was taking a German class 3 hours a day, and hopefully when I get some more cash I’ll start that up again. After all, that was my main reason for moving to Berlin.

Luca has a more exciting “job”. I put it in quotes because he’s an artist, and job means you make money. He’s exremely good at being an artist. He’s dedicated and skilled and spends long hours at the gallery. But as everyone knows, art is a gamble, and you only get paid when someone buys a piece. So that’s going well in the sense that he has his own studio, is developing his style, has an interesting lifestyle, and gets to do what he loves, but we’re trying to think about how to make it more profitable. I hang out at Tacheles a lot too because there are so many people and so much art; it’ s a stimulating environment.

It’s a rent-free kingdom of artists, a place where the values of art are both fought for and forgotten, or taken advantage of. Artists come and go, and so do tourists, capturing photos, not sculptures, to hang on their walls. It’s a place without limits, and in some ways, without expectations. It’s a place where many dreamers have left their mark.

And so this is the stage set for Luca’s inspiration. He makes metal sculptures, sometimes sells them, most of the time doesn’t, warms himself by the forge and has a beer with the other artists to discuss who sold what, and what would make his piece-in-progress better.

       

And this is the community of artists that we’ve found ourselves in the midst of. An open space for  creation, where even I’ve began to take out my paints and brushes. I’ve begun to put together a painting/collage of our entire ArtVenture trip with things I collected along the way. It’s kind of a visual diary.

And so, for the time being things are moving along. We’re at the beginning and we’re slowly gaining speed. Slow, but with a swing. Berlin pace.                     

                    

Berlin: Double, double toil and trouble…

…fire burn and caldron bubble! Words spoken, hearts broken, art alive and thriving, constant battling for survival against language, climate, culture, the unknown. Welcome to Berlin.

This spotlight painted over with four symbols represents my Berlin so far: the bike, active, discovery, searching for a place to fit in; the heart, full of love and wonder, building life in a new place with Luca; the anarchist symbol, full of contradictions, alternative culture, art, change; and finally the tear, representing extreme challenge, sadness, struggle, loneliness, nostalgia.

Let´s say I probably could use a hug! Berlin has presented itself in full form as a bold, harsh, courageous city. And even though I´m familiar with the place, making the move has proved quite challenging. Less than a week after I got here, my computer got stolen at Tacheles, where Luca works, and it´s taking a while to get over that. All my photos, music, writings, documents… well, it´s like losing memories. On top of that searching for housing has been unfruitful and disappointing. And trying to get together a million documents for a study visa, etc. A lot of work. I´m hoping that a little determination will pay off soon!

When we´re not stressing though we have a good time. Getting to know the many neighborhoods of Berlin is as fun as doing the same in San Francisco or New York, every area has a different style and character, and it´s amazing how much change and development I´ve noticed just in the 2 years since I was last in Berlin.

::::::::::::::::::::OBAMA:::::::::::::::::::::::::

On July 24 we went to see Obama speak near the Brandenburg gate. I thought I´d go be a good American and inform myself about Obama´s policies, seeing that I knew so very little about him even though I figured he was probably the best candidate. After waiting 4 excruciating hours in the hot sun, his very general speech (of which he read every word) about German/American relations and history (barely touching on his ideals as candidate for president) fell on tired ears. I was disappointed that he didn´t take a stronger stand on important issues like war and environment. But we were right up close and it was nice to be a part of the event.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::TACHELES:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Luca works as an artist at Tacheles. Tacheles is a historical building from the early 1900s that was used both as a department store and then later as a Nazi meeting/office space. Two months before it was set to be demolished in April of 1990, a small group of artists occupied it and managed to convince the city that it was structurally intact enough to be used as is, and it was named a historical building. Now known as Tacheles, which means “straightforward” in Yiddish, it houses 5 floors of artists studios, several bars, a Latin-American nightclub, a cinema, a large beer garden and natural garden with a pond.

And Luca is living his dream of working as a metal sculptor in the midst of this beautiful and interesting place. His boss is an older Turkish guy who was one of the initial occupiers of Tacheles, and Luca works inside his office, getting paid and getting to use tools and materials to make his own art, some of which he also gets to contribute to the ground-floor gallery which is right on Oranianburgerstrasse, full of tourists and people passing by.

Watching his progress during the course of ArtVenture and up to now, I really see how he´s grown as an artist. Having a workshop with every kind of tool at his disposition allows him to be able to realize his projects in a more professional manner, and he loves it. I´m very proud of him! Here are some of the pieces he´s been working on.

“Sound Sculpture”

“Clipboard Cactus”

“Cock-tus”                                                ”Orango”

Aren´t they fabulous?? All of these are already on display at Tacheles. Come and get them! They´re on sale! As for me, I just started my first night last night (8pm-5 am) of working at as a bartender in the Tacheles “bus.” Basically it´s a van turned into a mini-bar in the middle of the beer garden. Luca´s working weekends as a bottle-collector, beer stacker, clean-up guy, so hopefully now we´ll get to work together. Work seems to have worked itself out, so hopefully the rest will, too. In the meantime,  these ”dragonfly moments” of peace and enlightenment are very welcome during this tumultuous and short Berlin summer.