Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you from rainy Los Angeles. Before both my sons tested positive for Covid and we retreated into our respective rooms, we went to a stunning exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art by Swiss artist Pippilotti Rist.
Here’s a bit about the show: “Rist’s installations explore relationships of video and the body; exterior environments and interior psychological landscapes; and reason and instinct. They exuberantly probe the video medium’s capaciousness—for vivid color; sweeping views and extreme close-ups; introspection and cultural critique; and, importantly, the creation of shared experiences within the public space of the museum.” You can read more about it here: https://www.moca.org/storage/app/media/PDF/Pipilotti-Rist-Brochure.pdf
I slipped that Covid positive thing in there, didn’t I? I imagine you were distracted by the colored labia/vaginas floating around. We were going to our close friends’ house for Christmas Eve, so we dutifully tested ourselves about 1/2 hour before we were due to arrive. One brother tested positive. Three times. The rest of us were negative. The rest was what you’d expect. Incredulity because there were no symptoms, and then a slight panic because — well — you know. We’d all been so careful. So lucky. Oliver retreated to his bedroom. The rest of us masked up and waited. We’re all vaccinated, by the way, and some of us are boosted while others had booster appointments for this week (that had to be canceled because you can’t get boostered when you’re exposed to the plague). The next day, the second brother tested positive and into the room he went. He had some mild symptoms. The rest of us continued to test negative. So lucky. The Brothers have been living in their childhood bedroom now for nearly a week. There’s so much that I could write about, but I’m compelled to just write simply.
They are stellar.
It’s been a weird Christmas. I buried myself in this Buche de Noel. It had almond praline buttercream and was quite delicious, thanks to the recipe from Zoe Bakes.
It’s been a weird couple of years.
I’ve been doing a “class” of sorts with the great Suzie Banks Baum. It’s called Dark Advent Journal. There’s collage and writing and mandalas and book-making and embroidery and candles. Tiny envelopes I fashion from beautiful papers and then make tinier cards with found word poetry and collage. Daily creative work. I am absolutely inspired by it. I made a bundle of dried flowers and greens and small strips of paper on which I’d written various horrors of the past year you know what I’m talking about and then I burned it in the backyard on the Solstice, striking match after match to the slightly damp pile. All the things I wrote were wisps of smoke and sputter.
It’s been a weird couple of decades, but Sophie, Henry, and Oliver came to me somehow. And, of course, The Bird Photographer.
Lucky me.
ah, no... I beg to differ. Lucky us. xoxoxS
at this point i don't know what is more terrifying: to get a positive test result or to keep coasting along in a seemingly safe little bubble....waiting. i am sorry you had to go through the peak in anxiety but OTOH i am very glad that you all came out the other side apparently unscathed. also: love the sound of your creative immersion. your talent for self-preservation is always stunning. and your yule log!