Open Studios Report

You may recall I—after years of dodging commitment—I bought a live/work loft in an artist building this spring.

Annually, the building holds an open studios event, and I participated. I was on the fence about it, as it's pretty personal to open up your home to strangers. And while I am used to exhibiting at comic book conventions, exhibiting in a space where there may not be any fans of the genre, among many of my amazing neighbors, is really putting yourself out there.

But, it was great to meet many of my neighbors, art lovers, and some new friends. Aggie did really well, and she even let some children pet her.

It was only slightly awkward, at times, with nothing to do (you couldn't really get involved in anything, and there were definitely moments where no one came into my space). But I sketched here and there, including this monster collage.

Oh—my favorite comments were from some lookie-loos more interested in my apartment than my art:

• "Can we take a look around?" the man in his early '60s asked, nodding to the area of my loft sectioned off from visitors. "The art's all right here," I replied warmly. The man and his wife scanned the area for a moment and left.

• "OH. I guess we're not invited to see the whole place," another man loudly declared to his wife. And, without even pretending to look at the art, spun around and left.

Other than that, most people were lovely.

I was a bit curious as to who might randomly show up at my place, since it was a public event, the building doors were open, and I had advertised on FB etc. But, aside from Miriam and Craig & Jon, no real surprises.

Homeward bound

The last days of my trip were more "business"y and no tourism.

Making my way back to Delhi, I captured just a few interesting sites in transit. I loved that old guy with the beard...so wizard-y. But the more I thought about him, the more disappointed I became, as I know in my heart he was not a wizard.

On the 3rd, I began my long trek home. I was eager to be home, and eager to leave India. I was very eager to see Aggie, wear some clean underwear, and sleep in my own bed.

But I was not eager to leave behind the special feeling the trip had produced; and anxious that the sense of calm (despite the intensity of the trip) that had developed within me would be chipped away by personal life and loss, my job and financial stresses.

En route home, one of the offerings of in-flight entertainment was Dead Poets Society, which I had not seen since I was in college. It was fascinating, the new light in which I viewed it. When it was new (and I was young), I'd not had associated myself or my headspace with any of the characters. But with my journey opening my mind, I could totally see myself in the Ethan Hawke character, walled off and quiet. In high school, I thought or actual spoke a good half the character's lines. One scene in particular stuck, when the Ethan Hawke character was defending himself to the Rob't Sean Leonard character, whose flirtatious refusal resulted in some dorm-room cavorting. The moment was very similar to Matt's refusal to accept my own walled-off behavior, so it was easy to imagine us each as teens in that conversation from the film.

You'll be pleased to know that the experiences, feelings, and calm have lasted with me on my return, despite some stressful situations. The trip, in every way, added to my "journey." Yay!

All Saints Day on the Ganges

I doubt the tour guide had this in mind, but it was pretty perfect to be on the river watching the cremation and Aarti ceremonies at night on Halloween, and then sunrise on the Ganges the next morning, All Saints Day.

After an early wake up call and retracing our steps down the river, we loaded into our boat and rowed up river, observing the people bathing in the Ganges, and doing their laundry.

Across the river we could see pilgrims making there way to Varanasi—in my drawing they look more like trees than people.

It was then that some of us participated in making offerings to the gods with the leaf boat-with-lit-candles. We were told to make the offering in someone's name and make a wish to ourselves, while leaning over the boat and say aloud a request of Lord Shiva to grant the wish. I wrote it for you phonetically [sic].

Care to guess the nature of my offering and wish? It's not against the rules!

A busy, busy day ended in busy, busy traffic that stopped dead for an hour and a half. The jam was caused by the fact that they were literally paving the road as we went. It was really frustrating, until we started clowning around on the bus and the mood went from cranky to zany.

This was my last day of really meaningful experiences as I had to turn back to "business" but what a day it was! Adding to the evening before, this 24 hour span ranks among the most meaningful of my entire life. I will carry this feeling with me for a long, long time.

UPDATE: A little creative Googling leads me to the more helpful explanation of "Om Namah Shivaya" or "I bow to Shiva."

http://www.meditationiseasy.com/mCorner/techniques/Om_namah_shivaya.htm

Halloween on the Ganges

Hardly creepy, but sort of dark evening excursion on the religiously significant Ganges River.

Another rickshaw ride brought us to the bazaar that leads to the steps (or"gahts") of the Ganges River. We boarded a rickety boat and rowed down river and saw a cremation site. Family members are responsible for the preparation and actual cremation of their loved ones. Rowing back up river, the water was twinkling with candles floating in tiny leaf-boats. These are offerings to the gods.

If the experience wasn't moving enough, we arrived in time for the nightly Aarti ceremony, a "thanksgiving" ceremony of sorts. In my little sketchbook, I began jotting down the layer on layer of sounds I heard, as well as the various aspects of the ceremony. I stopped, shut my eyes, absorbed in the sounds. I opened them to the light, smoke, flames, and color of the ceremony—suddenly, the "short list" of the things I am most thankful for in life jumped into my head, in an order I'd never thought of things before.

For simple "tourist excursions," and not deeply invested in Hinduism, I am still in aw at how powerful and meaningful these moments were to me.

How did you spend your Halloween? ;-)

Bookends

In addition to all the meaningful moments in temples, shrines, mosques, and tombs, the particular timing of the trip produced meaningful reflections, and I further actively pondered life.

The trip had a very "bookend"ing feel for me.

Three years ago, November 2007, I journeyed to Ireland as a symbolic way to purge a lot of negative feelings and bad memories out of my system. They were fading on their own, to be sure, but the escape and placing myself in new surrounds was very cathartic.

On that trip, I began reading Vanity Fair. The novel had nothing to do with anything I was going through, it was simply a novel I wanted to read. While I made good progress during the Irish Escapade, I put the book down when I returned home. I picked it up here and there, amidst working on Love is the Reason and Trust/Truth, etc.

Nearly 3 years to the day, I finished reading the novel during my Indian Escapade. As Fish-philes know, I've been on an emotional journey the past months. This journey inevitably was leading me to improvement to the point that I knew going in, the trip to India would be as cathartic for me now, as the Ireland trip was in 2007. As circumstances begin to be accepted and hearts reclaimed, the symbolism of this trip and the conclusion of the book mirrors the Irish experience in a meaningful (to me) way as a bookend.

Further, the India trip followed—by days—New York Comic Con. My recent association of the heart essentially began at NYCC 2009 and ended NYCC 2010, adding to the bookend feeling of my time in India.

That night (or morning) I dreamed of Matthew. In reality, he was working at an out-of-town event toward the end of my own trip. In my dream, he was in Boston on my return, though would not own it was due to me. In the dream, his hair was shorter than when we first met but shaggier than when I last saw him; and he wore the outfit depicted in my sketch. He offered to pay for our cab, but only had fake money with faces of drag queens on the bills. I asked, "what is this money?" and he replied, "oh—it's the event I am running." Confused, I inquired as to what sort of event was it?—but then woke up.

The drawing of Miss Becky Sharp is a Tim Fish-ified rendition of the paperback edition's cover. I'd never be able to draw a mirror shot like that on my own...

Kama Sutra

The 80+ temples at Khajuraho are mostly gone today—only 20 or so remain.

Those 20 had been overgrown by the forest, which actually served to preserve them almost perfectly...just waiting centuries for the British to find them.

The carvings on the temple exterior depict the soldiers' life, the daily life, the sexual life (the kama sutra) and the gods' life.

The old men in the group were taking photo after photo... and one of their wives (a real spitfire and a bit of a trophy wife) said, "if you haven't figured it out by now, guys, you're out of luck."

Orgies, masturbation, beastiality...nothing was out of bounds for these temples.

Eat me

I think you can read my "journal" entry on the sketch page, inspired by my time at the Khajuraho temples.

It was really funny, how I was just admiring the carvings on the temples, and suddenly, my mind jumped to the place it did (as described on the page).

Never have I experienced so much uninhibited self-reflection as I did in India. Something in the water, probably...

Since it so happened to live next to a sketch of Storm and Kitty Pryde, I went ahead and included that for you, as well.