Dear Friends and Family,

The Missing Peace at the Frost Museum in Miami was the last stop on our four-pronged trip. Miami is a wild place - 90 plus degrees and so humid the air is close to wet, in October. Don, whose skin must be more sensitive than mine, at least to heat, would walk outside and feel his clothes suddenly burn him. The only choice is to stay in air conditioning, or stay wet close by some water. People walk around downtown in their bikinis or micro-mini skirts, and one can hardly blame them. I guess with so much of their flesh exposed, many become very appearance conscious, and we have never seen so many enhancements: huge breasts, men who resemble the Hulk, and cartoony faces. A bit overdone, to my taste.


The pool at The Standard. That darker blue between the pool and the sky is the Atlantic.

Fortunately, for us, Lewis and Chandra (our great traveling companions in Japan) had booked a room at The Standard in Miami Beach, a true oasis with the most beautiful infinity swimming pool ever, part salt water and fronting right on the ocean. We somewhat reluctantly decided to join them, even though this was not really our style. Then, unfortunately, for us, there was some screw-up in their internet reservation and their booking disappeared. However, they found a beautiful hotel room at half the price, so it turned out just fine, except that Don and I found ourselves alone at The Standard. However, not such a bad place to be in Miami Beach.


The walk to our room.


A "private" screened off area outside our room. There was a bathtub in each one of these areas, which I never saw anyone use, as the curtains were semi-transparent, and the pool was close by. The gray area is crushed seashells.



 Balcony off Lewis and Chandra's room.


View from their balcony.

Every time we left this oasis to drive anywhere in Miami - so this is sometimes a couple times a day - we would run into police action. This consisted of at least several police cars blocking the street and yellow safety tape stretched across the street, so that we had to make a several block detour. We live in Oakland and we work every day in West Oakland. We see police action maybe once every couple/few months or so. What is going on? Either they have serious, serious crime in Miami, or they block off the street whenever they give someone a speeding ticket.

We were sharing a rental car with Lewis and Chandra. When we first arrived at the airport, after waiting at least an hour in the longest line for a rental car we had ever seen, we drove into Miami and got lost. We found ourselves in a very rundown area with a lot of dead-end streets. Ragged people, who probably didn't have air conditioning, were milling around in these streets. Half-remembered stories came back to me, of families of German tourists who were murdered after mistakenly driving into some cul-de-sac in an area of Florida with huge gang activity. Had that been Miami? Suddenly, we were spotted - I'm sure they thought we were looking for some drugs - and a small crowd of people came running towards our car. Almost panicking, we got the heck out of there.


Lewis being interviewed by Miami public tv.

The rest of our trip was very peaceful. We were interviewed at the Frost Museum by Meredith Porte, a very pleasant woman who founded and directs an art program, ArtStreet, for Miami public tv. We had all been under the impression that this was to be a radio interview. I showed up rather unkempt and casual, but I wasn't too nervous as I figured chances were good that no one I knew would ever see this program.


The Frost is a beautiful new museum on the campus of Florida International University with high, high ceilings; what a luxury! They had done a great job of installing the exhibition; we were very pleased. This is a very difficult, large show to install, with many different artists involved. With so many different artists' work in so many varied styles and media, it is like a huge, complex puzzle to fit them all into a space and make everything look fabulous. Their staff all pitched in and worked very hard. The director, Carol Damian, said even the guards helped to patch and paint the walls.


The koto and flute were planned. The didgeridoo players were walking by and joined in.


Era practicing some new dance moves, hula? That cobalt blue scarf is Tibetan-Mongolian and was worn at the opening to designate us as artists.

The great people we met in Miami, who were interested in more, a lot more than going to the beach, driving hot cars and changing their bodies and faces around, seemed absolutely hungry for a show like this, which addresses his Holiness, the Dalai Lama and emphasizes the spiritual in us all, awareness of the planet and other good values - good in my opinion, anyway. It was exciting to see people's spirits uplifted before our eyes. I think it is possible that this show is actually acquiring a sort of mythic power as more and more people view it. What I mean by that is by people observing something and thinking about it, they actually give it some sort of energy. On a much larger scale you can see this with, say, one of Van Gogh's Sunflowers or the Eiffel Tower, or other famous and talked about things, images, concepts, people. The Van Gogh Sunflowers or the Mona Lisa are great paintings, but they are not far and away vastly greater than many other fine paintings. When you see them in person for the first time they actually radiate a glow. Part of that is probably your own (or my own) expectations and excitement, but I believe part of that is an energy which people have imbued them with.



Cuban dinner after the opening, courtesy of The Missing Peace.


Weighty decisions - Ron & Tenzin


Relaxing after the opening.

Forced relaxation after the opening. Too hot to do much and The Standard is kind of isolated on a little island between Miami and Miami Beach. It is surrounded by water (but it does have a causeway going through it). We even went swimming at night; it was totally warm. We did venture out to go to a cool little museum with an art deco influence, The Wolfsonian. And had another lovely dinner with Darlene and Ron, Lewis and Chandra, and David and Hijin, who were staying at the W Hotel - W for Wow, the throbbing center of the Miami Beach scene.



Why bother losing weight, when one can take advantage of the magic of water refraction?

All in all, a pretty relaxing way to end our trip.

I am late on my emails. We have actually been back in Oakland for several days.

Love to you all,

Era and Don

Hi all,

Back in NY. Walking for miles, everywhere. So much to see on the streets of NY.



Lennon, still in lights.


Very graceful skater seen at Battery Park; we took movies of him also.


Lots of activity at Ground Zero.

Saturday, dinner with poet John Yau, Eve Aschheim, and their daughter Cerise. John cooked an incredible tuna with glazed onions and lentils. Very yummy. Cerise played her recorder for us. Don played his iPod (Smule) for Cerise. Then they both played iPhone Bloom. John and Squeak Carnwath are working on a book together which Magnolia is publishing.

Sunday,  took our niece Kate out to dinner at En, the previously mentioned Japanese restaurant. Kate is working very hard in Queens, helping to set up a program to find jobs for immigrants, legal and otherwise. If anybody can do it, she can. She is super enthused about the job. Kate is not only gorgeous and altruistic, she is an amazing musician, as is her brother, her mother, and her attorney father, Era's brother, Leo.


Monday, went to PS1; we just missed an Art Book Fair, which we found out about too late - missed by one day. But we did see the swimming pool by Leandro Erlich.


The Swimming Pool at PS1.


Swimming, NY style.

Tuesday, met up with Gail Severn, Bruce Velick and his dog Olivia to do the Chelsea galleries (some of them). Unbelievable winds that day, our food was actually blowing off the table at lunch. Don saw a table blow off a 20-story building with a rooftop garden and come tumbling down into the middle of Broadway.


Olivia, too cute.


Olivia, Gail Severn and Bruce Velick at the Maya Lin show at Pace; Era lurking in background.


Made Don take this picture as she looks like a cross between 2 friends of ours, Ricky Jacobs and Jan Wurm. Look carefully at what she is holding in her hands, and then see below.


"Conduit," a copper gargoyle with urine verdigris patina by Janine Antoni at the Luhring Augustine Gallery, which has moved into Charles Cowles' old space. Every woman should have one.


Too much art? Never!


Good night, New York.

Love,

Era and Don

Hi everyone,

And thanks for all the responses. We love getting them.

A big part of the reason for our trip was to see William Wiley's retrospective at the Smithsonian Museum of Art, a huge honor for any artist, and to be part of the opening festivities. We decided with some trepidation to take one of the almost notorious Chinatown buses which commute regularly from Chinatown in NY to Chinatown in DC. We knew we didn't want to make another flight; way too many flights and way too much hassle for a fairly short trip. The choice was between the Greyhound (yuck), the train (maybe) or one of the Chinatown buses. We decided on a Chinatown bus as we're staying in Tribeca, close to Chinatown in NY, and our hotel in DC was close to Chinatown in DC. Also, it is super cheap, $35 RT, and we were also curious. Reviews are all over the place with people loving them to horror stories.



A rare sight; responding to a complaint from the Italian government and the City of Pisa, the Obama administration decided to straighten out the tilt to the Washington Monument.

The last time we took a bus for any length of time was up the Croatian coast in the middle of the night, on a narrow windy road during a thunderstorm. On that occasion a bus was the only option we had as Don was absolutely sick of driving in Croatia, I won't drive in scary foreign driving conditions, and no train exists on the coast. The buses run only in the middle of the night. I think we caught the bus after midnight. It was completely packed, except for a couple seats away from each other. Don ended up sitting next to a little special needs Croatian man, who absolutely reeked of sweat and booze. (Actually, Don gallantly saved me from having to sit next to this fellow.) The little guy was pretty entertaining, in an embarrassing sort of way, singing, shouting, calling out to Don "Americano" and "George Bush." We taught him to say, "George Bush, no", "Clinton, yes." All in all, it was an almost hellish experience, pitch black outside, rain pouring down, occasional thunder and lightning which lit up the narrow road and steep cliffs, the bus careening along at a much too fast rate of speed for the road. The passengers on the bus were good-natured and laughing, that is until the little guy threw up. Luckily, he had moved his seat away from Don by that time.

I am happy to report that the Chinatown buses we took to DC and back, Eastern Travel, were very clean, almost new, very comfortable seats, lots of leg room, had working internet connections and pleasant drivers. The little "bus depots" where you pick up are colorful little Chinatown dives with bossy women managers who shout at you in Cantonese, but other than that everything was normal, normal passengers, nobody threw up.


National Portrait Gallery, which is showing Wiley's exhibition. That looks like Tallulah biking past, but we happen to know she is back at Magnolia, holding down the fort and putting out fires, along with the rest of our brave and dedicated crew.

We decided to stay at the Mayflower in DC, which seemed super luxe, especially after our art loft stay in our Tribeca digs. DC is a strange city; I don't know if we could have abided it at all under our last administration. Police and secret service everywhere; we were mostly grateful for them - Please, keep our President safe!! We were walking down one of DC's wide boulevards when sirens sounded and half a dozen black limos - SUVs - came speeding down the street, their banks of dark windows were rolled down, filled to bursting with secret service or FBI, all with what appeared to be preternaturally long necks, swiveling around in alarmingly wide arcs, their heads poking out the windows, 2 or 3 to the side, scanning the streets, buildings and even the sky in all directions from behind their super dark sunglass lenses. They looked exactly like secret service clones from The Matrix to me, but reminded Don of the weasels from the animated Wind in the Willows. Wish we had taken some photos, but it happened so fast, and probably wouldn't have been allowed.


Wiley's talk was wonderful, wonderfully Wiley. He spoke a little, played (his guitar) a little and sang, spoke a little more, back to guitar and harmonica. He showed a group of slides and had to crouch his long, lanky frame down to read some of the titles. Everything he does and says is done and said with humor and warmth and a sharp wit which deals with the ludicrous events of our time. His show and work looked absolutely great. Many terrific pieces lent from a great many collectors, who Joann Mosley stressed were the easiest, most pleasant people to deal with of any exhibition she has ever put together. The pun ball machine (Wiley pin ball) he did with Electric Works looked wonderful and was a big hit; Magnolia's button box looked wonderful also in a more low key sort of way.


Wiley reading text from his artworks on stage.

As I was listening and then speaking to Wiley, I realized that he had a Buddha-like energy, similar to the Dalai Lama, not surprising as everybody loves Wiley. Then I was speaking to Denis Ochi, who has a gallery in Idaho and represents Wiley. I thought Wow, Denis has a Buddha energy, too. Then I noticed that Mary Webster, Wiley's wife, had this same energy, and many others. Now I think that this is probably some type of result of being blessed by the Dalai Lama. I am seeing Buddha energy in almost everybody; some people have a little, some have a lot. Hope it lasts.


Jim McGrath (the famed and influential high school teacher of Wiley, Robert Hudson & others), with Betty Taira and Wiley at a party thrown by Cissie Swig after Wiley's talk.

We were in DC for 2 and a half days and managed to see most of the Smithsonian Museums, albeit some very superficially. Some pretty impressive museums.



The Air & Space Museum, DC



Enjoying the Anish Kapoor sculpture at the Sackler, or was it the Freer? This highly polished S-Curve distorts both your reflection and your voice.

Back to NY for more fun and games.

Much love,

Era and Don

Hi all,

Almost impossible to get a direct flight out of Memphis to anywhere, but we did finally make it to Newark. Jeff Kelley had been texting us to meet him for dinner, so we dropped our bags at the time share loft/studio in Tribeca and grabbed a cab to Bottino's in Chelsea to meet Jeff and another Alan Kaprow scholar, Judith Rodenbeck, who teaches at Sarah Lawrence. Some of you might ask: Who is Allan Kaprow? He is an artist (recently deceased) who was instrumental in establishing the concept of performance art back in the fifties and sixties, conducting many happenings during that time. What is a happening? some of you may ask; you may be too young to read this email. We all knew that happenings were way cool back in the early sixties.


Anyway, these two scholars of Alan Kaprow are very lively dinner companions, their liveliness helped along, no doubt, by very good Italian food, great wine, and then innumerable glasses of port. It was a very warm NY evening and we were sitting close to an open terrace, where a blessedly cool breeze was gently fanning us. I heard the table behind us speaking about the Dalai Lama. I immediately stood up, went over to them, and introducing myself, told them I had just met the Dalai Lama two days ago. They were lovely people and, after inviting me to sit down at their table, they poured me a glass of wine (more alcohol?). He turned out to be Mario Frangoulis, a well-known singer (at least in Europe) of mostly opera and sort of romantic ballads; his agent, Demetra Anagrostopoulos and another staff, Mary. I watched him on YouTube, beautiful voice, where he's performing in a huge and packed ancient ampitheatre on Thessalonika, I believe. Impressive.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GfIDo6Bnjz4&feature=related

Mario was on his way to perform for the Dalai Lama and some other Nobel Peace Prize recipients at the Dalai Lama Center located in Vancouver. The DL has been going strong since his illness. Somebody else told me her sister was going to a conference on healing with him which was coming up soon.

We are staying in NY, in Tribeca, in an artist's loft which we have bought into for a year; we get 6 weeks out of the year. It is very light, high ceilings and roomy, as an artist's loft should be, however, the bathroom and sink are down a long hall, accessed by a locked door. Not the greatest for aging bladders, and my bladder was never the largest or the strongest in the first place.

Don has been working with Chuck Close, whose studio is within walking distance of the loft, very convenient. Recently I found myself in a surreal situation, sitting on the floor of Chuck's studio, hand-finishing a tapestry. This took over 2 hours; a job which could have been done in less than 2 minutes with our serger at Magnolia. About 15 feet away was Chuck Close painting on his latest canvas. So if I came out of my sewing reverie, I would look over and watch Chuck paint for a while.


The tapestry I was working on is the B&W Self-Portrait on the left wall.


Went to the Met, the Rubin, and a few galleries, including the Nancy Hoffman Gallery, where we saw Hung Liu's elegant show. Nancy had been excited to get Hung's new portfolio of prints with poem by Michael McClure. We were invited upstairs to see and discuss the portfolio. As we stood around, making chit chat with Nancy and her staff, we began to wonder when they would bring the portfolio out. Finally, we realized they were wondering the same thing about us; they thought we had brought the portfolio. They didn't have it. But Happy Result, it turned out the portfolio had been delivered only minutes before. It had gone to the gallery's old address first. Nancy loved it and is very excited to start showing it.


The painting to the right is of a couple young victims of the devastating earthquake China suffered, sitting amongst the ruins. We saw it at various stages of its progress; the result is fabulous.

Later we walked the Highline, what is left of an old elevated rail system, stretching along the West Side from 20th to 14th. Wish it were longer. And I am happy to report that Nancy Hoffman tells us that it will be extended. Literally, everyone told us we must walk this, and they were right. They've done a beautiful job of landscaping it, adding some beautifully appropriate art and design features. It was a little overcast that day. Wish we had better pictures.



One small, but welcome change in the world is that good Mexican food can be found these days outside of Mexico and California. We have eaten at several different restaurants which serve very good Mexican food, more like the kind of food you would find in an upscale restaurant in Mexico. Ate at Rosa Mexicana, at La Esquina with Bruce Velick, both in NY, and getting ahead of myself, but at Oyamel, in DC.


Making guacamole at La Rosa Mexicana.

One of our favorite NY dining experiences continues to be En, where they make fresh tofu every hour and a half.

Love to all,

Era and Don