"Honey I'm Home....Goodbye."

So far this month, I've slept in my own bed all of seven nights.

At the moment, I'm home sweet home for only 48 hours. Wednesday at the ass crack of dawn I leave for San Francisco! I think I already said this, but I'm heading there for the opening events for Double Exposure: African Americans Before and Behind the Camera which opens at the Museum of the African Diaspora this week. I have 2 pieces in the show from my (Re)calling and (Re)telling series.

I arrive there after a 11 hour flight and then have to get all beautiful and go to the fancy invitation only members preview and reception. I just hope I can get some sleep on the plane so that I don't arrive at the reception looking like whodunnit & why. (Am I the only one who uses this expression?)

So here's the post-card invite to the opening. If you are reading this blog from SF, you should come. Unless you're ape shit crazy (Am I the only one who uses this expression too?) in which case stay the feck home. It's gonna be a really amazing show and nobody needz your crazy monkey-ass trying to muck everything up.

OH OH---the real reason I'm coming: The Artists Party!

You know you're a party girl when you fly 11 hours just because you're on the VIP list for a Museum party.

Speaking of flying, if anyone has any ideas on how I can arrive to San Fran unjetlagged...please fill me in.

I'm desperate.

Sunburn and Chardonnay.

We got home Sunday night from Malta. I can’t remember the last time I was so happy to be back home. Vacation can be exhausting.

I don’t have many kind things to say about Malta….probably because the food was just so bad. When you’re staying at a 5 star hotel, yet the best meals you have all week are at Pizza Hut and Burger King, something is terribly wrong. I blame the British for this, not the Maltese.

OK, to be fair, we didn’t really see much of the country. We only visited 3 cities on the mainland: St. Julian, Valetta, and Sliema, but I just wasn’t impressed. I know the main source of the country’s income is tourism, but it’s hard to be charmed by a place that has hotels stacked upon hotels and apartment blocks stacked upon apartment blocks like some kinda Mediterranean LEGO village. It just wasn’t…..pretty. ( I prefer Kos or even Crete anyday!) Even the beaches were rocky and a bit uhm….filthy. In fact, a lot of the island was dirty. Trash removal is not a Maltese priority. And You know how I feel about dirt. *shaking head in disapproval*



Now for some more photos:

Maltese Fashion!

Maltese Dirty Hippy.

Maltese Beach


Maltese thumbs up.

I can has Maltese Cheeseburger.

Walking around La Vallete.

Oh and did I mention that the Maltese love Jesus?

I mean really love Jesus.

I mean really really love Jesus.

I mean really really really really freakin' love Jesus.

So, food & filth aside, FrenchBoy and I had a lovely time. Malta is a great place if you want to escape from life for a moment. We abused the open bar in the hotel’s Executive lounge, read cheesy magazines stolen from the airport VIP lounge, and watched American TV for hours and hours each day in our underwear. In short, we did absolutely nothing. No walking tours, no shopping, no boat rides, no visits to archaeological sites. We just relaxed. Any activity that took place from Tuesday to Friday has now become a complete blur of sunburn and Chardonnay.

And the Sun. Ahhhh the Sun! I hadn't seen it in so long that I had almost forgotten just how glorious it is.

Sidebar: Why oh why does it rain all summer in Eastern France? No wonder everyone here is so pale and grumpy. I have a theory that so much of the undesirable "Frenchness" that exhibits itself in this particular region of France could be cured by a stiff dose of 3 to 4 days of continuous sunlight. These people aren't stand-offish and cold, they're just vitamin D deprived! <>

So all in all it was a decent vacation. Any vacation is what you make it. I feel completely recharged and energized. Who knows, I may even have the energy to actually start studying French again.

Ok, now I'm just pulling your leg.

Art Zombie

So, I got home from New York Monday afternoon. Since then I’ve been recovering from the worse case of jetlag I've had since Tokyo. The trip was amazing, the show looked great, and the opening was well attended. I should be all butterflies and rainbows right? Nope. Instead I feel like a zombie.

On June 18th I hop back on a plane and head to San Francisco for the opening of Double Exposure: African Americans Before and Behind the Camera at MoAD. I'm happy to be in the show with so many amazing fancy-pants artists, and I'm happy to be going to SF, but I'm also suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed and generally listless. I'm sure it's a combination of jetlag, fatigue, and "post-show blues", but I feel awful!

I mean really really HORRIBLE!

My other artist friends keep reassuring me that it’ll pass, and I know they’re right. After the week long adrenaline rush that is NYC, and the show, all the non-stop talking to people, all the phone calls, and all the meetings and appointments, I had to come down sometime. I just didn’t think it would be this…..crappy. Dude, I think I have an adrenaline hang-over.

Luckily, tomorrow we leave for a much needed week-long vacation to Malta. I plan to lay side by side on the beach with my FrenchBoy and read a pile of books I’ve been meaning to get around to for more than 6 months now. And I’m thrilled to say that not one of them is remotely art related.

In fact I don’t even want to see, think about, or hear anyone say the word “Art” for at least the next 7 days. I may be a zombie, but I swear to goddess if you say the "A" word I will give you a swift kick in the stones.

The Opening.

Short and simple: The opening was fabulous. I can’t believe how many people showed up. The turnout was amazing. I spent the entire evening talking to people yet I feel like I barely got to really spend any time with anyone. But I suppose that’s normal as openings go. Luckily Kasia and Kelly were there and Kelly spent the entire evening taking photos, so at least I have these photos to show you folks!

It was truly a great evening. And I'm not just saying that because En Foco gave me a big fat check. All of my friends came, and they brought their friends, and even a few friends that I didn’t expect made appearances. Two artists Terry Boddie and Tricia McLaughlin who also graduated from the Hunter College MFA program showed up and later two old pals, Jay and Ben, that I hadn’t seen in nearly 10 years made a surprise appearance. Shocking and delicious all at the same time!

The day after the opening (with a bit of help from the makers of Xanax) I managed to give a decent artist’s talk without sounding completely insane.

I think I succeeded in talking about the work intelligently and explaining what it is I do. Lots of people had really good questions and were really interested in the work and the narratives I was constructing.

My favorite part of course was after the talk when several people came up to me and shared with me how one of my works reminded them of a moment, or story, or person from their own lives. I never get tired of hearing these stories.

Everything was just too awesome. What can I say? My cup runneth over.

Home Sweet Home.

I never know where to begin blogging after a huge trip that involves 100s of activities, conversations, and meals, so I’ll just gloss over a few things since doing a whole week of NYC experiences any justice in a thousand words or less is nearly impossible.

The flight there was pretty uneventful. I watched 2 really bad movies and then immediately forgot them. I hopped off the plane, caught a taxi to Kasia and Kelly’s place, changed clothes and then jumped on the subway at 11PM to meet my friend Buddy in the village for dinner. Oddly enough we ended up eating at a French fusion diner called Florent….which recently lost its lease and is now going out of business. Alot of that going on in NYC lately. Just another indicator that my New York City is slowly but surely fading away. But that’s just how life is I suppose.

The next day I had a great American Breakfast with Kasia before heading out for some hardcore shopping. I seriously abused the exchange rate. It was lovely. Tuesday,Wednesday, and Thursday were filled with even more shopping, meeting up with friends that I literally hadn’t seen in a year. I bought 4 pairs of crocs, got a manicure and spa pedicure, ate gluten free pizza and bread-steaks, and drank gluten-free beer, got called “hot tits” by an insane homeless guy at Astor place, and got hit on by a goofy Midwestern Frat boy in front of Barnes and Noble at Union Square.

I love New York.

But ya know---the thing about New York is-- When I did live there, I didn’t really LIVE there. I was so busy with either school, or relationships, or work, or just trying to pay my rent that I never really enjoyed the experience of living in the one of the most amazing places on the planet. Now, every time I visit, I end up someplace and think: “How and why did I never come here before?”

There is also the realization that each time I visit NYC I love it a little bit more precisely because I don’t live there. No sky-high rent to pay ($1700 a month for a one bedroom anyone?), no shitty job with bad medical benefits to slave away at, and no mandatory subway suffocation in the thick of August. Yeah---it’s easy to love New York under these holiday conditions.

And Brooklyn. What can I say about Brooklyn? I swoon if I think about it for more than 30 seconds at a time. Don’t tell anybody, but I secretly dream of buying a brownstone in Park Slope one day as soon as I win the Euro Million lotto jackpot.

I don’t know how to explain it. While I’m there I feel like my heart is breaking every minute. So many memories that I think I will burst with joy to be “home” again.

But as soon as I’m back on the plane, I’m ready to be going ‘home”. See that’s the strange thing about “home”. And this last trip to New York made it more clear than ever that for me, France is home now.