my kid could paint that

A year ago, my dear friend was working with the Sundance Institute, doing viral marketing up through the film festival in January. She had tickets to a film called My Kid Could Paint That, about a 4-year-old New York girl named Marla Olmstead (she's six now, and adorable, I might add) whose modern art paintings are making waves - thousands of dollars worth of waves, actually - and we had talked casually about my coming up to Park City to see it with her. I wanted to but couldn't get a car, or something. Things became desperate - "I really think you need to borrow a car and get up here now," -- so I borrowed a car and jetted up to Park City, but not soon enough to make the screening.

A few days ago - nearly a year later - I found a screening in my hometown. Scrounging up people to go was the hardest part (everyone hears the word "documentary" and thinks "I'm not paying to see one of those when I can watch the History Channel for free, and leave in the middle if I want" - come on, folks), but after hours of trying, I finally got a small group together. (Of course, then I hear it's in the dollar theater in Provo. Naturally.)

We had the theater to ourselves, except for a security girl who came in and out periodically. (I think she was watching the movie with us.) The movie opened with the air of an examination of the validity of modern and abstract art. The Olmsteads knew a guy who ran a coffee shop, and they put one of Marla's paintings up there just for fun. Shortly thereafter, he contacted them saying, "We need a price on these. People are asking." Another friend of the family owned an art gallery. A "hyper-realist" in style, the gallery owner began to show Marla's pieces in part because he saw her talent, and in part to poke fun at the modern community, as if to say, "Look! What you do, so can a four-year-old." Then, she began to sell. By the end of the movie, Marla Olmsteads were going for a good chunk of change.

Things got hairy when the family agreed to do a piece with 60 Minutes. Honestly, I'm not sure what they were thinking -- all through my communications education, I've gotten the impression that saying yes to 60 Minutes is nearly always a Bad Idea (mostly everyone who goes on this show comes out looking bad after it's all over), but whatever. The piece raised a lot of questions to the effect of "who's actually doing these paintings? Is it really this little girl?" This aspect of the story is still unresolved. It obviously changed the feeling of the documentary significantly, and it was really interesting to see how all parties involved reacted to this new angle.

The doc was done really well, in my opinion. Very objective in a subjective way ... it didn't rely on only the facts, it gave every opportunity to both sides, and it showed the emotion that was relevant and particular to the story. The filmmaker even included several clips of interview subjects criticizing him as a filmmaker, or expressing doubts regarding his motives. Talk about honest, up-front presentation.

I think one of the most interesting points the movie made was the illustration of "observation theory," if that's the exact name ... like in quantum mechanics or any social study, the idea that observation of an object changes how it acts. (You know, like if you're on camera, it's harder to act naturally.) Truth is altered in its presentation. Every story has an angle. The media gets a lot of flack for this, and admittedly we could always be doing better - but the media studies and works very carefully to present balanced stories, and still the general public perceives a biased media most of the time. That's why we need more than one witness for most things. This film was a prime example, both directly with its subjects and, taking a step back, as a film itself. The story was filtered through the filmmaker's eyes, too. I guess that makes it all that much more important to know who you are and what you believe, huh? No one can understand clearly enough to make those decisions for you. Sure, listen to people and sources you trust, but in the end, it comes down to you to decide what you really ascribe to.

It's weird that this little girl is going to grow up largely without remembering all of this, and all these pieces plus the things people tell her are all she'll have to go on - not too much more than we have, except that the older she gets the more she'll remember, and the hype doesn't seem to be going away just yet. I wonder if there are thousands of dollars worth of masterpieces that I did when I was four, that I've simply forgotten? I hope so ...

social networking WINS.

I think it is so cool that the Republican debate tonight is taking questions from YouTube. Between that and my previous Lymabean entry, I started my family in on the term "social networking 2.0." I don't think they really cared, but such is the cost (perk?) of living with someone with a communications degree.

remember those magnets?

Of course you do. Those ones that were everywhere for awhile ... no one I knew ever even knew where they came from. Anyway, from what I can tell (I think it was a Newsnet article), the Lymabean of the magnet days used to be mostly a buying-and-selling site, but now they've morphed into something a bit more exciting.

Just so we're all in the clear, I have a friend who works for these guys, and he showed me around a bit so I could tell you about it. The nice thing for you is that I'm not getting anything out of this, so I can say whatever I want, good or bad! It's a risky job PR people have ...

That said, this is a pretty neat thing. Lymabean is something like Facebook, but instead of having a focus on networking (Facebook is still accomplishing its purpose of keeping you connected to people even if you're only logging in weekly or less), Lymabean is more of a "use me" site. From what I understand, it's also exclusively for college students, while Facebook is open to anyone now. I mean, Lymabean won't kick you out when you graduate, but the site is so inherently college-campus-based, you wouldn't really have a lot of use for it once you graduated anyway. Really, Lymabean users would probably use Facebook, too.

In short, it's an electric shades-of-green site that interconnects people, businesses, clubs and community activity, in a given geographical area (specifically, a college campus, at least right now. I could see expansion to other community groups, but this is what it is now). It uses a Flash-based interface, so everything is drag-and-drop - it's actually amazingly user-friendly. I'm not sure if that will create problems for older machines (I don't think my Linux could handle it), but Flash is getting a lot friendlier the more people use it, so I'm sure there's a pretty high compatibility there. It has places for alerts, Craigslist-like listings (or to see deals from local businesses), chats, subscriptions, etc., but also has a lot of personal interconnectivity like Facebook. For instance, it still has the news feed function. But green! The one thing I haven't liked as well is that you can't resize the windows. I like resizing windows ... but at some point they'll probably add that. Oh, and I sort of wish all these boxes would just be in one box so you don't have to click in and out of everything all the time(that's why I would want to resize the windows instead of having them overlap), but for all its functionality, I suppose that's a small price to pay.

My personal favorite thing about this site (besides that it's green) is the media manager. It has a section for your music and video, slideshows, etc. You upload your own stuff and other people can stream it, and you can stream theirs. It's all legal because Lymabean pays the ASCAP fee (the same fee they pay in a basketball arena or somewhere they play the music publicly ... it's a broadcasting license). That gives you license to play whatever you want, like an online radio station. Raaaad. I don't know if it would replace my Imeem! but cool.

What it looks like:




In other words, be on the lookout for this. It'll come to BYU sometime in January-February, it sounds like, so this is a bit early, but it's cool enough to tell you about so you can start paying attention. If you care, you can check out more about them at www.lymabean.com or www.behindthebean.com - you can become an Insider at behindthebean and get a free t-shirt as a student pre-user, and see the pre-launch stuff. Perhaps most importantly, you can give your own input on the site. Anyway, it's very cool. Check it out.

reality (but not on TV)

At the end of our canasta game today:

"It was my strategic decision to close out that pile just now that won the game for us!"-Mom
"You outwitted, outplayed and outlasted, Mom."-*Ann (my sister)
"Yeah!"-Mom
(Ann pats Mom on the back.) "You're The Biggest Loser!"
(laughter was had by all.)

They Might Be Sins

-Anna Egg Ng (the alcoholic kind)
-Alehouse in Your Soul
-Everything Right is Wrong Again
-Chess Piece Laced
-She's a Devil
-Keep Coming, Little Bottle
-Searing-Ade
-Someone Keeps Pulling My Hair
-Nuclear Bullets of Pure Hate
-The Infamous Poke-Ugh
-In Jail
-I Should Be Allowed to Drink
-How Can I Sing Like Alec Ounsworth?

Two pianos, two organs, a computer and an air hockey table greet visitors as they pass our front living room on their way through the main hall. That living room has been the home of more than 7,500 hours of piano practice alone (not to mention the organs).

Because I couldn't find one piece of music, I just organized all the music in that room out of boxes and benches and piles into two filing cabinet drawers, two Tupperware boxes and a bookcase. Tonight I opened that dang file cabinet drawer and sat down to play that piece - the last really good piece I learned before leaving for BYU - Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu.

I used to have it memorized, but apparently the last several years have left only a few lines intact. I was really surprised when it started differently from what I had remembered, but as I progressed through the pages, my fingers still remembered what to do most of the time.

In the last several years, I haven't had much opportunity to actually play the piano. Lots of accompanying and that sort of thing, but nothing classical. In fact, before pulling this Chopin out, I'd struggled a bit through some other, much easier music. Heck, I can't always play all the right notes in a hymn these days. I prefer to play around with the chords and do whatever I want, which works as long as I include the melody somewhere and am not trying to accompany a congregation. I'm not used to having to pay attention to detail anymore.

Fantasie Impromptu came out all right, though. Fantasie Impromptu is a much more difficult piece than any hymn. Just when my skill level appeared to be disappearing, I discovered I could still play this one?

I guess it has something to do with muscle memory and the fact that I spent so much time learning it (it took me about three months). Made me think about what a big deal it is to teach your kids good habits when they're young. My life is different from what it could be had I not learned good values as a kid - oh man - it's not too hard for me to see where I'd be without that, and I know I fall back on my family values a lot. Thanks to my parents, I have a way better life than I could otherwise. Same as how, thanks to my parents, piano teacher, and hours of practice, I can still play a really gorgeous song.

you know you need a job when...

...you read the instructions on the Hot Pocket ("let cool for two minutes before you enjoy your sandwich") and think, "They used that language so the consumer can take ownership of their product."

At least, when I mentioned it to my mom, "You need a job," is what she said.

Those two minutes are up, anyway. See ya.

when dreams come true

Last night I dreamed I bought seven really fantastic Halloween wigs for $2.16. I just realized it was a dream. Then I realized I dreamed about them because I saw them at WalMart a few days ago. Hooray!

another story

Tonight's was about a car.

--

Once upon a time, there was a farmer in a little town. He had a little car that was all rusted over and he only drove it once a week, to buy his groceries. One day, some people from out of town came in and talked to the city, and they decided to build a big new freeway through the town.

So they built the freeway. However, with the freeway came some new people into town. There was something a little suspicious about them. They had very fancy, fast cars. Pretty soon, before they opened up the new road, all these new people gathered at the road to race their cars on it before it was open. They went in the middle of the night so they wouldn't get caught.

Before they started racing, the farmer put-putted up the road and came up to the people. He got out of his little car and said, "What's going on?"

"We're going to have a big race," they said. "You should go on home so you don't get run over."

The man said, "Oh, okay. That's a good idea," and he started to drive away. The people got into their fancy cars and revved their engines, and as soon as the flag dropped, the farmer's car spun around and went up on the road. He started passing the fancy cars!

"What is happening?" they thought. "We're losing to this farmer with his little putting car!"

All of a sudden, the rust dropped and the car became a shiny little racing car. Rockets burst out of the back and the farmer won the race!

As soon as everyone finished, the farmer surprised them. He turned out to be a high and fancy policeman, and he gave them all tickets and threw them in jail.

--"He threw them in jail?"
--For losing.

And then he went back to being a farmer with his little rusty car. And that's the end for today.

------

And there was much laughter.

a little too early, a little too late

I would argue that Valentine's messages should be given at all times of the year, and we're sort of coming up on Christmas, which is a relatively romantic time.

Consider a world of options. As a preview, my favorites include:

VI. Emmatati kima diparum. Bishi tuppi libbiya.
You are hot like a torch. Be my Valentine.

X. Suhartum bantum suharu kalu, qadum yati irreshu.
Beautiful young woman all young men want you, including me.

XIV. Suhartum magal bantum atti. Yati kali u kati annashaq.
You are a very fine young woman. Restrain me or I will kiss you.

art to communicate

I finished My Name is Asher Lev tonight. My head is swimming, as per usual when I read this one. The book itself feels like a masterpiece of the same nature as its subject.

The book explores art, in the context of painting and drawing and the visual arts. I appreciate the continued use of the term “art,” as it opens the door to comparison of my own art, and that of every reader this book could have.

My art form is writing. Sometimes writing music. Sometimes writing with words. Sometimes both. Asher Lev's is painting. His father's is traveling. His mother's is selfless suffering for the preservation of her family. In all of them it is their Judaism – even in Asher Lev, although he isn’t devout in all the same ways as his community.

To write honestly, must one write everything? Naturally, no. One must not write that which does not add to the work. Still, one must include everything that is pertinent and essential. Which works are important? That which runs deepest? In the final pages, Asher expresses – maybe in wonder, in “quiet desperation” of what is – the power in his painting hand. The power in that hand to amuse, to cause pain, to channel what is regardless of what may fight to keep it inside. So that power lies in the fingers of one who writes.

To communicate. To take your gift and use it for the edification of those who experience it. I have learned that that which edifies is not always enjoyable. God does not always teach through happy lessons and painless moments. Edification is the enlargement of a soul to greater understanding of truth. Truth is not always happy, but its alternative is useless, and that which is useless does not lead one to the eventual fulfillment (and joy) that comes from the work one can do with truth.

So a gift, as Asher discovers through the conviction of his teacher Jacob Kahn and then through his own experience, must be used as a vehicle for truth – the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Which stories must be told? Those which edify. Those which are a truth that needs telling, and not one iota more or less. More creates embellishment; less creates a half-truth which in so becoming has no integrity, either.

--

“These are my memories, Papa. No, I'm not saying that these paintings represent the truth; they represent how I feel about things I remembered when I was in Paris. They're not the truth, Papa; but they're not lies, either.”(p. 359-360)

“Art is a lie which makes us realize the truth.” -- Picasso

from the weather channel tonight

"Tomorrow will be cool and crisp. Well - cool - 80 degrees."