Ho, Ho, Home

Here it comes, the Christmas blog post. There are still plenty of games to be played, mountains to be snowshoed (if we could get some snow), and more family on the way, but here's the first week of Christmasness.

We went hiking with Michael's parents and the pups. It felt amazing to get out of the inversion for a little while. Personally, I think the inversion (or what the weather men euphemistically call "Haze")is the worst part about Utah. I was embarrassed when I flew in from New York, because I was sitting next to a guy from the South who'd never been to Salt Lake before. I was feeling sort of ambassadorial and telling him about the lights downtown and Park City's Main Street, the snow (I even mentioned the Winter Olympics which means the department of tourism should probably hire me)...and then we flew into a giant bog. I think I need to hire Yoda to Jedi the city out of the scummy swamp that is the inversion. See:

At least it's gone now. Get away, scum.

Moose looks fine, but Michael really flopped on this one. 

If you look closely you can see a Moose Dog wobbling around.

We fetched the tree, and decorated it. 

This tree selection might be a bit staged, since we all know Laura didn't really help carry the tree. Neither did I, but...

 We also decorated the dogs.

I took Michael out for his birthday. Those poor people with December birthdays have to share the spotlight with Christmas trees and such (and poor people who date people who were born in December and therefore have to come up with two presents in two weeks).

We went on another hike with my Dad and Michael's mom on Christmas Eve. Moose...struggled. He got lost a bit on the trail, which caused Michael to have a mild panic attack and start running up a mountain. He also totally embarrassed himself in front of Rusty and the Charlie, a dog we're babysitting, by facing the wrong way in the car. Hey, Moose, over here!

Don't Charlie and Rusty look disgusted?

I love winter hiking, with our trusty Rusty scouting out the way. In this picture Rusty is thinking, "Well, Moose is lost again. Can we please keep going up the trail." I'm realizing how much of my blog is now devoted to dogs and doggly activities. Hmmm, maybe I should just start Rusty his own blog. "Today I taught Moose how to check for ticks and stole a Cheeto from under the couch. xoxo -Rusty"

Christmas was great we opened presents, and visited all our families. We even got to Skype with Michael's little brother who's in England on an LDS mission. He's been gone for about five months, but he has an accent now. We spent the first few minutes of the phone call giggling at his "posh" new way of speaking. The people he was with kept laughing whenever he said "pants" instead of "trousers" since pants means underwear. Can't wait till he gets home, so we can make him say things like "Happy Christmas, Harry" and "I say, governor! Bang up job, that."

My parents got watches and then turned into fabulous watch models.  

 

 Moose got a studly new backpack. He ran right over to show Dad and Grandma Becky.

I got Michael a tennis racket, and he turned into a creative way to block other people out of pictures. Apparently Becky got replaced by Wilson. He got me a GPS, which is really a "let's not fight when we're lost in the car" present.

Laura got scarfed.

Tonight we went down to see the lights at Temple Square. My Aunt Barb and Uncle Dean hadn't been in a long time and Michael's family came too.

 I would like to point out what an extreme accomplishment it is to have a picture with no people in it. You'd need an solid offensive line blocking for you to accomplish that in a more popular spot.

Don't worry, he didn't propose, although bachelors were dropping like flies all around us.

Well, hope all your holidays are going well. I'm just happy that my break isn't over yet--I'm off to obliterate Michael even with his new tennis racket.

Jazz Hands

I just spent a week grapevine-ing down Madison Avenue singing "New York, New York" while a crowd followed. I spent most of my time in East Hampton at the artist's studio and museums (which is right where I wanted to be) but  I did these things in my spare time:
-drugs
-got kissed at the top of the Empire State Building at midnight on Valentine's Day
-ran through Central Park like Pheobe
-swam in the East River
-bought some fabric at Mood that really impressed Nina and Heidi
-got abused and murdered on an episode of SVU
-started singing with Patrick Dempsey and his daughter, inspiring a musical mob in the Park
-lived in the Plaza and wrote down my fun-filled adventures
-attended NYU and spent four years trying to decide between Ben and Noel
-became a Rockette, but then decided that I'd rather just work as a freelance kick dancer
-was featured on a fashion blog

Ok, I didn't really do drugs.

I've decided New York is pop culture. You can't visit in the way you can other places, because if you've watched enough Seinfeld, Friends, etc. you already know the city. I knew the street names and landmarks so well, that walking around the city felt a lot like wandering around a museum does for an art historians; you walk into a room and see a painting (or NY landmark) and even though you've never seen it before you think, "I know you."

I was so busy singing and such, but I did manage to fit in the Whitney, MET, MOMA, Guggenheim, Jewish Museum, and the MAD. Curve ball: the Museum of Arts and Design was my favorite. I don't usually like design museums and often think that furniture, etc seems thrown in to the gallery space, but this museum was great. I might be biased though, because it was the first time I got to see one of the sculptures I'm researching. After an hour, the guard asked me if I'd like a chair, since I'd been chilling on the floor. So, we moved a bench and he sat down next to me and told me about the time that Elizabeth Taylor visited. I told him about how my degree qualifies me for...his job, and that's about it. I had a great time, and I'm so glad that my research was based in New York.

 Central Park, choker-bock full of pretzel stands.

 Madison Avenue, I seemed to be the only person who wasn't shopping for diamonds. Also, fur coats? Really, people? Really?

 

Hey, I was there too. Not the most successful picture, but it's proof.

 

 Slightly disturbing installation. I met Art Vandelay there.

 Metropolitan Museum of Art. I saw the new Islamic wing, seemed worth the ten years construction to me. 

This was a random cathedral next to my hotel. I walked in on a handbell concert. Okey-doke.

 I went to East Hampton to visit the family of the artist that I'm focusing on for my thesis. They live next door to the Pollock/ Krasner House, so I went to check it out. Got some great gossip about the Pollock movie and about all of JP's girlfriends. It was like an art historical soap opera. I walked down to the cemetery, I felt like I needed a star map since there were so many artists buried there.

 I told you that you that you had to wear little booties. 

I was impressed that you could pick out individual paintings, there's Autumn Rhythm. I got to see the big version a few days later.  

 I learned about welding. Turns out that that one time I (kinda) took AP Chemistry helped me out-- metallic salts you know?

 This is my artist's studio. It was amazing to see many works in one place, and stay with his daughter and widow. It's always a little strange to work with artist's families since they tend to be a bit defensive about their family member's "legacy," but they were particularly gracious and I enjoyed hearing some of their crazy artist stories. 

 I figured I had to see the Atlantic while I was in the neighborhood. 

Here are my hosts. The lady on the right wakes up every morning and makes breakfast, drives to the post office to check the mail, and then walks a few miles on the beach collecting rocks and shells. At night she does Tai Chi while watching the Antique Roadshow (to see if anyone brings in one of her late husbands' sculptures). She's 98 years old. What an inspiration.

I had a lovely trip, but I'm happy to be home for Christmas and such. I think I was most excited to see the puppies, probably because they seem so stoked to see me. Also, isn't it nice to not have a schedule?

Have Yourself a Merry Little Research Trip

Well.... I passed my thesis proposal. "Approved as Submitted." What amazingly, lovely words. I have a million tests to grade and one paper to start and finish in three days, but one week from today I'll be in New York. My department is funding me to go to New York for 6 days for research. I'm so happy that I have my study abroad experience because I know before my France trip I would have been a little nervous to travel alone in the big bad city. Now all I think is, "Well, at least everyone will be speaking English."

I'm scared to mention the name of my artist, because google will track down my blog. Google mocks me with its power. So, let's just say it rhymes with ShmIbram ShmLassaw. I'm really looking forward to actually encountering the sculptures that I've been writing about for months.

 

I have meetings at MoMA, the MET and the Whitney. His daughter also invited me to visit his studio and stay with her for a night in East Hampton (swanky, eh?). I might get to interview his wife who just turned 97. I also get to visit the Jackson Pollock/Lee Krasner  House which is just down the street, to meet with the curators there. I've heard you have to wear little booties to walk into the studio barn. I'm stoked. I'm sure you, blog reader, are stoked to see pictures of my booties. The trip is all business and such, but I'm so glad that I'll get to see the big tree at Rockefeller Center and Christmas in New York...and wear booties. There's something so romantic about the idea of jumping from museum to museum everyday with a little city exploring mixed in, grabbing takeout and doing some writing. All this geeking our shouldn't be allowed for such a serious research trip, but I'm going to be smiling on my walk from museum to museum and then I'll put my mock turtleneck on and get back to business. I stopped reading the NY Times' "Weekend" section and the New Yorkers' "Upcoming Events" a long time ago since reading about the gallery and museum openings was always so depressing. This week, I'm going to read them all.

Thanksgiving Ends

I'm thankful for Thanksgiving. This is a fact, a truism, a truth, a point of concurrence, and one that I'm very aware of as I return to my thesis project and prepare for my thesis proposal which is happening in a few days. I genuinely like grad school, but it's nice to remember that even if my department laughs in my face, reclaims all my library books, rips the nametag off my mailbox and apologizes to my students upon hearing my proposal there are people who will still like me.




My committee wouldn't push me out in the Oregon rain would they? As I desperately grasp my Chicago Manual of Style...





So thanks for all the Thanksgiving love, family. Mom, Dad, Laura, Michael, Becky, John, Jen, Seth, Morgan, Chloe, Brynn, and Ellie: you're the best.


I also would also like to share a student email:

Hey!
I haven't come to class lately I've been soooooo super busy. would you mind xeroxing your notes and emailing them to me.
Thnx!

I wish I were lying about that one. I responded nicely, but I was tempted to just reply with "Nope."

Thanksgiving Begins

I spent this weekend with Michael's family in Portland. It was so much fun. I think the highlight was when his nephew, Morgan, insisted that everyone participate in a pillow fight (with constantly changing rules). I've decided that my graduate program should do this--I think it could really help us relieve some of that academic aggression. I think the Modernists would win, obviously.

Here's some pictures of Michael and Morgan playing Star Wars. His niece, Chloe, revived the fallen heroes with kisses:

 I had some lighting issues, but this storytime picture is really sweet. I should figure out my camera...or just buy a new one with more buttons. 

In Michael's words, "Ellie, you are so cute, and so disgusting." Check out that drool!

 

I'm so excited to go back for Thanksgiving, and this time my family is coming too. My parents and sister are driving up to Oregon and Michael's sister and brother-in-law are hosting everyone for Thanksgiving. Can't wait to have so many people that I love all together! I'm just going to walk around hugging people.

I told a few people that my family and Michael's family are eating together for Thanksgiving. The universal response was, "That's so weird. Are you nervous about it?" I'm not nervous, I'm excited! Our families are so awesome, that it's not "weird." Plus, I think my dad and Chloe are really going to get along.  

Rethinking Leia

In a moment of spontaneity, with the encouragement of my fellow classmates, in the bliss of summer I chose to submit a picture of myself dressed as Princess Leia as my graduate student bio.  Check it out.

Funny? Perhaps. Lighthearted? Definitely.

But a few moments ago I did a google search for "Ibram Lassaw" (because I was going to blog about my project) and discovered myself. In a Princess Leia costume. On page 5 of the image results.

Try googling University of Oregon sculpture. Here I am. Page 6.

Sarah Taylor sculpture. Sarah Taylor art history. Sarah Taylor art. Sarah Taylor thesis. Sarah Taylor graduate. Thaaaat's me.

Well, I'm googl-able. And perhaps more noticeable than other art historians (since I'm not wearing a black turtleneck and a scarf). Do people on Ph.D. committees google their prospective candidates? If so, I better be prepared to answer the question, "What led to your decision to submit an unprofessional, informal, cheeky photo? Do you sniff glue, or something." They are going to ask me that for sure. I know! I'll just say I'm interested in the philosophy of performance art on digital platforms. Or, deny everything.

Hmmmm. Maybe I will change my name when I get married.

I suppose I should have submitted one of these:

 

Long Distance

It's terrible. Michael and I are coming up on three weeks without seeing each other and might have to go five. I blame my students, my thesis, his students, his thesis and the government. Alright, not so much the government.

Isn't it about time that we lived in the same place? Our anniversary is this month: four years. Four years! And that whole time we've never lived in the same city. I did have one semester off between my undergrad and graduate school, but I was staying with my parents. I love my parents, but it always feels transitional when I'm staying there--a temporary stay where I don't unpack my winter clothes. We've gotten to see each other a lot. I think we've both been pretty good about making an effort to see one another. When we were just from Salt Lake to Logan, we saw each other almost every weekend. And even now, we do our best to make it every three weeks or so.

But all that "seeing each other" requires planning, forethought, early completion of homework and hours of driving. Especially now--it's a seven or eight hour drive. And you can't speed in Oregon. And I don't have cruise control. It just never feels like enough time. I've left Spokane at 4:30 AM multiple times to get home for class on Monday, because I wasn't willing to leave on Sunday afternoon and miss eating dinner with Michael.

We usually plan fun things to do. We go out to eat and justify dessert, take long walks (I'm always happy that I can walk around after dark when Michael's here) and attend whatever festival or market that's going on around town. But, I'm sick of planning. I don't want to make lists of all the things I'd have to do to be able to see Michael this weekend--in fact making the list just makes me depressed and unable to accomplish anything. And then, of course, I feel like I'm wasting time when I could be getting ahead so that I can visit Michael. Which makes me depressed...

Sometimes I feel like we're on the home stretch, I'm almost one third of the way through this school year. Come June, this separate zipcode thing will end. But I hate that attitude, the "I'm be happy when..." I actually think the worst part is not being able to share when I'm happy. Somehow, it's much easier to be in the same mood when you're together. I like my program and the people here and walking around this green, green place. I have some really good days, but that enthusiasm just doesn't quite come through on the phone. Sometimes our conversations run like book reports, because it's so hard to convey emotions (especially when you talk with your hands, eh Michael?). "And then I read an article, and then I went to the library, and then I made dinner..." or "And then I tried to write something, and then Moose did this, and then Moose did that, and then I tried to write something..."

I don't usually get this "schmoozy" on my blog. I'm better at the hilarious commentary on pop culture and fashion advice, like my usual posts. This writing did make me feel a little better though. I'll just try to not become like the people featured here (this is a blog about bloggers who apologize for not blogging and then explain why; it's amazing). I also have a rule against blogs without pictures. So, here's a picture of Michael and I on our 3rd(?) date. For some reason we thought it would be hilarious to get really dressed up and have my mom take a picture. Somebody should tell mushroom head and doofus elf that their relationship is going to be really, very good! and they're never going to see one another.

A Portriat Speaks 1,000 Words

 The professor that I'm working for is letting his GTFs go crazy this week and talk about our specialties. This could be a big mistake on his part, because I'm going to look at the Presidential Portraits from the last few terms of office. We're talking about Realism vs. Naturalism. For the record, I think these are all Realism, but I find the comparison pretty entertaining. Clinton's is also about twice as big as any of the other portraits and is right across from George Bush Sr's formally-staged portrait. It makes me wonder what President Obama's will be like. Spray paint?

Images from National Portrait Gallery.