Rice Fields of Japan

I just received these pictures in the email, and I wanted to share them. I can only call it embroidery with rice plants in the fields. Enjoy!

Dickens on Pastor Robertson

I have been re-reading "The Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens, and came across a quote: "Mrs. Joe was a very clean housekeeper, but had an exquisite art of making her cleanliness more uncomfortable and unacceptable than dirt itself. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, and some people do the same by their religion."

This somehow made me think of pastor Pat Robertson and Rush Limbaugh - very pious people (never mind the drugs) - who recently made widely known their appalling views about Haiti. Pat Robertson asserted that Haitians deserved this latest devastation by an earthquake for their old pact with the Devil to rid them of the French dominance. I am wondering if R. Robertson was the Devil's secretary since he is privy to all the details of the pact. And our conservative chief Rush Limbaugh discouraged people from sending money for relief in Haiti by saying, "We've already donated to Haiti,'' Limbaugh told the caller on his radio show. "It's called the U.S. income tax." You can read the transcript of his whole broadcast about this here. Make no mistake, Rush Limbaugh is as much a pastor of his religion, as Pat Robertson is, only Rush's religion is called the worship of the dollar. And whoever wants to take that dollar away from him is declared the Devil.

Pat Robertson and Rush Limbaugh - the Dickens's Mrs. Joes.

A Winter Scene

It is incredible, but we still have snow on the ground which fell on December 18, 2009. The only benefit in the prolonged cold I see is that it stimulated my husband to start paingint again. He created a number of beautiful oils in a rapid succession. Here is one of them:

A Poem Hanging Above My Desk

After a While

by Veronica A. Shoftstall

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans.
And futures have a way of falling down in midflight.
After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you are really strong.
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and you learn...
With every goodbye, you learn.

My Favorite Poems

I just want to announce that I started a new blog project - completely in Russian - where I hope to collect all of my favorite poems one poem per day. I called it iPoemPod. In case you read in Russian and would like to visit it, here is the link.

In Memoriam

Three most handsome male actors of the Russian cinema died this year:

Oleg Yankovskii

Igor Starygin

and Viacheslav Tikhonov.

And then there were none...

America Doesn't Have a Chance

A few days ago we went to meet with the world-famous cellist Yo-Yo-Ma as a part of the lecture series. This was the occasion where he not only played, but also talked with the public. Most of the talk was surprisingly trivial (our daughter said that he "played it safe," which of course, sucks all the life out of the talk), but one thing really struck me. He started off by saying that he was going to play the very first piece of music his Dad taught him at the age of 4. This was the first time ever the little boy held the bow in his hands. What was that piece of music? It was Bach's cello suite No.1. Here is a YouTube video of Yo-Yo-Ma playing the prelude from that suite. It was not adapted, shortened or in any way made easy for the player who barely left his infancy age. By the time he turned 5, Yo-Yo-Ma learned three suites by Bach. That was the beginning of his music career.

Before he started playing, Yo-Yo-Ma asked the public to think what emotions they would be experiencing when listening to the music. After he was done, he asked the audience to share what they thought. (The thoughts were extremely "profound," like "peace," "joy," "contentment," and the performer didn't fail to praise the listeners with each revelation: "Wow, this is so deep! You guys are the best! Great observation!" I don't know what was more annoying, that condescending and childish attitude or the inane public comments.) I did not share what I thought with him because while he was playing, my main thought was that America has no chance whatsoever as long as Asian parents have such high expectations of their children, and their children deliver.

Nobody in the US would dream about sitting their 4-year-old down and making him learn unadapted Bach. (Mind you, Yo-Yo-Ma's Dad had no indication he had a future genius in front of him - this was literally the first time ever that the kid was in front of an instrument; this demonstrates that a Chinese parent would not hesitate to raise the bar this high for a perfectly average child.) We in the US do not set expectations nearly as high as Chinese parents do. In a way, the competition is already lost. A bit more time needs to pass for it to become evident even to us.

That is JANE!

We are remodeling the Master Bath. The contractor who came to give me an estimate eyed the artwork we have displayed next to the shower. This reminded me of another occasion when a contractor saw the same images. We have two acrylic sketches hanging in the bathroom - nude studies which my husband painted years ago when he went to a nude painting class. The model's name was Jane. Each week he was coming home with a variety of nude paintings labeled "Jane." He would pile them up in various places around the house, and at some point it started to feel like Jane was a character in our lives. I encountered her naked body everywhere I turned. So I asked him to stop putting her name on the paintings making her just an anonymous nude. Then one day, a contractor came to my house. I had unmarked nude studies drying out on the dining room table. He looked at them with some interest, turned to me and asked me if they were pictures of ME. I hastily explained that that was JANE. Since then I never objected to he name being clearly marked on the paintings.

Celente in Support of the Arts

Gerald Celente of the Trends Institute just released the new report forecasting the development of the world crisis. He anticipates the situation worsening significantly before it gets better. He does believe in the eventual American Renaissance, though, which would include economic and political revival of the country. But there is more to it. And here comes an unusual address to the readers from this very sober analyst:

"No Renaissance can occur without building its foundation upon the arts. Art is not entertainment or just a business. Art is a way of finding the true meaning of the human spirit. A comprehensive understanding and appreciation of art, in its most profound manifestation … aesthetic, religious, cosmic … defined every great civilization of the past and without it there will be no great civilization of the future.

For America to experience its Renaissance, it is incumbent upon everyone to do what they can within their means. For the wealthy, buy from and support living artists for the value of how the work hits the heart, not for its eventual resale value. For everyone else, give a holiday, birthday, wedding, graduation gift that is artisan made, not manufactured in a Chinese factory. And when buying for children, give gifts that will further their creative talents in arts and crafts rather than occupy their minds with disposable toys and electronic games."

Sunrise in Blue Ridge Mountains

Here are a few pictures taken by my son at his camp in Blue Ridge Mountains this summer. One night they hiked on top of the mountain and greeted the sunrise there. No photoshop editing was applied to these shots.

"The Dancers Aren't Complaining"

Today, "The Independent" in Britain came out with the following headline: "The demise of the dollar. In a graphic illustration of the new world order, Arab states have launched secret moves with China, Russia and France to stop using the US currency for oil trading."

The article continues:

"In the most profound financial change in recent Middle East history, Gulf Arabs are planning – along with China, Russia, Japan and France – to end dollar dealings for oil, moving instead to a basket of currencies including the Japanese yen and Chinese yuan, the euro, gold and a new, unified currency planned for nations in the Gulf Co-operation Council, including Saudi Arabia, Abu Dhabi, Kuwait and Qatar.

Secret meetings have already been held by finance ministers and central bank governors in Russia, China, Japan and Brazil to work on the scheme, which will mean that oil will no longer be priced in dollars. [...]

Brazil has shown interest in collaborating in non-dollar oil payments, along with India. Indeed, China appears to be the most enthusiastic of all the financial powers involved, not least because of its enormous trade with the Middle East. [...]

"These plans will change the face of international financial transactions," one Chinese banker said. "America and Britain must be very worried. You will know how worried by the thunder of denials this news will generate."

Iran announced late last month that its foreign currency reserves would henceforth be held in euros rather than dollars. Bankers remember, of course, what happened to the last Middle East oil producer to sell its oil in euros rather than dollars. A few months after Saddam Hussein trumpeted his decision, the Americans and British invaded Iraq."

To read the complete article, use this link.

I did not see anything about this most interesting and relevant information on MSNBC, and Fox News has the story ways down under behind all the blah-blah about our glorious war on terrorism and a fascinating story of corruption at ACORN. The Fox News twist is that the story is not true because it was denied by official sources in the countries named by the Independent. Sure, we all heard denials from official sources that Madonna is not getting a divorce, etc., etc. If these powerful countries are planning to pull the rug from under American financial supremacy, it would be a bit dumb of them to officially announce their course, wouldn't it? It would be stupid and complacent on our part to take their assurances at face value and instead continue being zombied by the likes of Ben Bernanke into thinking that we are on the mend, and that all is definitely under control.

The US reaction to this news reminded me of a recent experience we had here in North Carolina. For the first time ever in history, the Bolshoi Ballet came to Carolina. The Bolshoi said that until recently it was not even aware that anything existed in the vast space between Washington, DC and Miami. Lo and behold, they were coming to Chapel Hill, and we were up for a treat! They brought two performances, "Don Quixote" and the "Swan Lake." Tickets were sold out months and months in advance. We went to see both shows. "Don Quixote" was a rapture to watch despite the fact that the stage was obviously too small for this production, and at one point the soloist had to push away from the wall. Two nights later we were watching "The Swan Lake." I do not remember another ballet performance which I watched with a similarly sick feeling. In my mind, it was nothing short of a disaster. The stage was covered with some substance which obviously made it too slippery for the dancers, and it also produced a horrible squeaking sound each time they had to twist a foot on it, which was, essentially, all the time. About 5 dancers actually fell or slipped and nearly fell during the ballet. At one point the kneeling soloist had to make a visible effort to lift the foot he was resting on off the floor for his tricot stuck to the stage. It felt like the performers were dancing over a Coke spilled floor. We sat with a knot in our stomachs cringing at the squeaks, and filled with apprehension of future slips and falls. Anybody who is familiar with the Bolshoi would know that for a dancer to fall during their performance is a next to impossible event.

Anyway, during the intermission, we ran looking for a stage manager to see if the slippery covering could somehow been ameliorated during the short break. This was the evening when a red carpet reception for the patrons of the arts preceded the actual show. As a result, the theater was filled with ladies of all ages donning evening gowns. The lady we were told to talk to, was also fancily dressed up, and we apparently interrupted her small talk with an important guest. She sized me up (I failed to impress her), and after I related my concerns to her, she replied in a condescending manner that this was a special stuff they put on the stage surface for a ballet performance. Then when I assured her that (obviously, unlike her) I have been to many a ballet performance, and the stage never sounded this way, she gave me her last trump argument: "The dancers aren't complaining!" The performance concluded with the same accompaniment of squeaks and slips.

I later read in a published interview how concerned the dancers were about the slippery conditions on the stage that night. It was very evident that this was the first and last encounter of that stage manager's with the caliber of the ballet the Bolshoi offers. I am sure the troupe were very glad to leave the hospitable Carolina with no broken legs, and are probably convinced that there was a good reason why they were oblivious to the existence of human civilization between DC and Miami.

The parallel I am drawing here is in the attitude. The stage manager was convinced there was no trouble since she did not hear the dancers complain. The US media sources are also trying to placate us in this matter of vital importance to our collective "dance" that "the artists are not complaining," and therefore there is no cause for concern. Well, the artists may be plotting an escape to another troupe altogether. Ever heard about the BRIC countries? That may be the name of a new theater. I am not sure that when it opens we will have enough disposable income left in the currency they accept to purchase tickets to their performances.

A Big World in a Small Pool

When I was growing up in Russia, the world began and ended at the borders of the Soviet Union. Granted, it was a large space, but you could not venture beyond. You sort of knew about the world outside of the borders, but it was not very real. Like we know of the Universe out there, but since you can't actually go and touch it and experience it, it is still an abstract notion that we are spinning and flying through the space at a tremendous speed, that the stars we see may have died millions of years ago, etc. And even an occasional charred piece of an asteroid you see in some Science Museum does not make that outer space any more real. That is how we in the Soviet Union felt about the world abroad.

Then our family moved to the US. This was a tangible experience of the "outer world," yet it was still confined in itself. We were not free to travel outside of this new reality and then come back to it. This was sort of like flying to the International Space Station. Sure, you made a step into the universe, but your interaction with the universe was still severely limited. The first time I felt like a citizen of a larger world was when I decided to buy a poster of one of my husband's and mine favorite paintings by Pieter Bruegel "The Hunters in the Snow." The year was 1991, and Al Gore has not invented the Internet yet (and we did not even have a computer). (When they were young, my children have asked me if I was alive at the age of the dinasaurs, and it does feel that way sometimes.) I first checked out the local poster catalogs and book stores and found out that I could only buy an 11"x13" size poster for about $35. This was not acceptable. I did not want to also buy a magnifying glass to enjoy the painting. Then I got a hold of an art book and found out that the original was displayed in an art museum in Vienna (Kunsthistorisches Museum). I got the name of the museum, found out what their address was, and I wrote a letter to them asking if they had a poster of this painting in their gift shop. To me this was akin to sending a letter to Mars. Imagine my shock when shortly afterwards I received a reply with their catalog enclosed. I proceeded to ordering the almost full-size poster which cost me around $15 including the shipping cost. The savings are unimportant in this case. It was the shock that Mars does exist, and someone that from there would honor my inquiry with a reply, let alone by sending me an artefact from their world.

This summer I took my son and his friend to our neighborhood pool. There were very few people there. See, it is a small pool with just about 60 families belonging. Besides the three of us, there were two young women with a couple of toddlers. My child is 100% Russian, his friend has a German Dad and a Russian Mom, but, like my son, she was born in the US, so the language both children most fluently speak is English. The two young women turned out to be babysitters from Brazil who talked in Portuguese among themselves and even to the children, one of whom, as we found out later, was half German, half American and spoke those two languages at home. The only American American at the pool was a middle aged woman who came a bit later and was fascinated asking everybody where they were from.

This was a small pool indeed, with a large world fitting right into it. I am very glad that I feel free to travel almost anywhere in the world, that my daughter loves England, and that my son said that he thinks he would prefer to live in Europe when he grows up. I am really glad that I lived long enough to see my children feel like citizens of the world. The large world.

In the Footsteps of the Great

The other day I went to watch "Julie and Julia." I should say that the part about Julia Child was a sheer delight to watch due to the personality of the character and the superb acting of Meryl Streep; and the part about Julie was cute but totally unremarkable. I thought that the part about Julie did not add anything - whatsoever - valuable to the movie. I wish they would have spent all the time on Julia Child - original, passionate, creative, authentic. I still am struggling to understand what makes Julie's tour de force effort in cooking every single recipe from Julia Child's book so appealing. Would we be equally engaged in a journal of an amateur artist who decided to copy every single work by Gauguin in one year and documented his progress online? Someone who decided to learn every sonnet by Shakespeare? So why does cooking appeal to us so much? Because unlike fine art and poetry we can actually enjoy it? What does Julie's understanding of Julia through cooking add to our own perception of the same person had we been afforded more opportunity to observe her without diluting the picture with Julie's trite observations? I don't even think that Julie's personality is big enough to really offer a prism through which we watch Julia - she provides a mere bland sideline comment. So even though I was not mightily annoyed by her presence in the movie, I still find it unnecessary.

Anyway, this is not the point of this post. The point is that I remembered about this movie just now when my son told me that today at school he looked through the guide on "How to Tick People Off" which a friend of his was secretly reading in class. First of all, I did not know that teenagers need GUIDES for that! I thought that knowledge comes naturally. But I suppose, some extremely conscientious teens who take the art of annoying people seriously enough look for additional opportunities and suggestions on how to hone their skills of ticking off people. My son said that from what he had a chance to read, his favorite ideas were to sing along at an opera, and to ask people which gender they were. I am wondering if I should suggest to my son's friend to set a goal, like practice all the tricks in the book in - say - a month, and to track his progress in a blog. You never know, he may become famous just like Julie Powell. Only funnier, I would think.

One standard of George Lopez

My son loves to watch the George Lopez show late at night on Nickelodeon. I sometimes watch it with him. I remember one episode when a sex offender moves into George's neighborhood, and he is ready to rise up in arms against the predator. His mood changes rapidly when he finds out that the sex offender is a woman, and a young and extremely attractive woman at that. All of a sudden, all he does is introduces himself, welcomes her to the community and tells her he is there if she needs him. His wife is completely appalled by his behavior, and she accuses him of double standards. To which George Lopez replies: "NO! There is only ONE standard! One for men, and one for women!" Ha-ha-ha.

I sort of remembered that episode when I saw in the news today that the United Nations has released a report by its investigators who concluded that Israel's actions in the Gaza strip in December 2008 - January 2009 amount to war crimes and crimes againt humanity.

Here are some excerpts from that report:

"“The mission finds that the conduct of the Israeli armed forces constitute grave breaches of the Fourth Geneva Convention in respect of willful killings and willfully causing great suffering to protected persons and as such give rise to individual criminal responsibility,” the report’s executive summary said. “It also finds that the direct targeting and arbitrary killing of Palestinian civilians is a violation of the right to life.”

It went on to criticize the “deliberate and systematic policy on the part of the Israeli armed forces to target industrial sites and water installations,” and the use of Palestinian civilians as human shields.
On the objectives and strategy of Israel’s military operation, the mission concluded that military planners deliberately followed a doctrine which involved “the application of disproportionate force and the causing of great damage and destruction to civilian property and infrastructure, and suffering to civilian populations.” (http://www.un.org/apps/news/story.asp?NewsID=32057&Cr=palestin&Cr1=)

The mission did not exonerate the Palestinians in the conflict, noting "“There’s no question that the firing of rockets and mortars [by armed groups from Gaza] was deliberate and calculated to cause loss of life and injury to civilians and damage to civilian structures. The mission found that these actions also amount to serious war crimes and also possibly crimes against humanity.”

Fox News concluded its extremely short report on this matter with the phrase: "Israel refused to cooperate with the investigation, saying the U.N. Human Rights Council that ordered it was biased against the Jewish state." Any Russian would remember a phrase from a cult war movie which states that what sticks in a person's mind is the last thing you said in a conversation. So it is symptomatic that the last statement in this article was that the findings are not valid because of the anti-Semitic bias. That is what the readers are likely to remember.

Well, well, well. I remember there was a tremendous outcry in the media when last year Russia went into South Ossetia to protect its citizens from random bombing and shelling by Georgian armed forces. Senator McCain felt strongly enough about it to make a silly statement that we were all Georgians now. Our media spared no harsh words for Russia for using excessive military force - and that was the least of what the US found wrong with it. So why is the news about Israeli war crimes confined to some middle pages of the newspapers and to brief mentions? And why am I reminded of ONE STANDARD of George Lopez?

I think in relation to Israel, the US behaves totally like Ryan's Mom (for those who do not have a clue what I am talking about, please watch an extremely funny episode of a Canadian stand-up comedian Russell Peters about Ryan's Mom: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVcePxjFujs). Personally, I have no respect for Ryan’s Mom's parenting methods, nor for the results it achieves.

A most unusual and beautiful art form

I want to share this YouTube video I became aware of recently. This was a part of the competition Ukraine's Got Talent, and the girl did win the First Place. Her name is Kseniya Simonova, and she is Russian living in Ukraine. The composition she is "performing" is called a "Sand Requiem", and it is a short version of World War II on the territory of Ukraine, or Western Russia, or possibly Bielorussia. You will see that she really strikes a chord with her audience which weeps through a portion of the show. The most emotional place is accompanied by a song "Cranes" which goes something like this: "Sometimes I dream that our soldiers who did not return from the bloody fields, did not lie down into our earth, but turned into white cranes. Since those bygone days until now they have been flying over us and sending us their calls. Could that be the reason why we often get quiet and look up into the sky with sadness?" Her medium is very fine black volcanic sand. Kseniya is married, and has a young son.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=518XP8prwZo&feature=related