Chinese react to Ray's article

Remember this article, about itinerant artist Jim Mott? Well, Jim sent me the following exchange, which he tracked down somehow from a Chinese message board. It's amazing how word gets around.


Notes: I was doing a Google search for “itinerant artist project” a couple of weeks ago and found the Christian Science Monitor article about it being discussed on a Chinese website. A friend’s daughter, who is living in China, was kind enough to make a translation of the Chinese forum posts (below).
She mentioned also that the name of the Web site, Laosanjie, means "three old classes." The term refers to people in the high school graduating classes of 1966, 1967 and 1968 whose education was interrupted by the Cultural Revolution. Meanwhile, of course everyone sends infinite ripples that end up going all over the world, but it's fun to have something that lets me see that in action. Plus, without the "ripple" back from China and its mention of xiaosa, I would have forgotten that my thinking and my project had been influenced at least a little bit by a class in Taoism, particularly a reading of Chuang Tzu with its concept of “free and easy wandering” – something my project would seem to exemplify (although, in reality, I’m an anxious and constrained traveler). Anyway, this is an interesting peek into a chat group from another country and culture:


HOW AN ITINERANT ARTIST* INSPIRED ME (postings from 4/17/08 – 4/30/08)
[*the Chinese could also be read as “vagabond artist”] translated by Stephanie Schubmehl


Merry Deer (discussion leader):
[Merry Deer has posted the photo and opening paragraph from the CS Monitor article, in it’s original English]


Soaring Crane:
Very interesting. I guess you’re telling me to work on my English, Merry Deer. That’s great! I think I’m going to need a Chinese version, though. Ha.


Merry Deer:
Hadn’t quite finished posting yet. You got the first reply in, buddy.

The photo and opening paragraph above are from an article in the Christian Science Monitor. The article is titled “Itinerant Artist Will Paint for a Bed and a Meal.” The painter’s name is Jim. Influenced by Odysseus, the hero of the Roman [sic] epic poem, he has found a unique way to live and travel in the United States. He plans to live a life free of monetary exchanges, traveling and learning by staying with ordinary people who have an appreciation for art. Jim’s host provides a meal and a place to sleep, and he creates a painting in return. He repays his host’s hospitality by painting a picture, creating an artistic representation of his host’s surroundings for the host to enjoy on the wall of his or her own home.

I want to follow this painter's example. What I’m thinking is that I could go to people’s houses and help them learn English. Think that would work? Any volunteers? Hee hee....

I want to find this kind of people, or this kind of school. The school here wanted me to teach classes, but I’ve resigned. I’ve thought about starting a completely different life. Maybe this June I’ll start off in Kunming. I can support myself until I find something.


Running in Circles:
That should be doable. You’re all set up if you've got a professional skill. A lot of people want their kids to study English now. Living conditions usually aren't great, though. Find a school first and then find suitable candidates through them.

You’re all such useful people. I feel so inadequate! I can’t do anything.


Gong-chang Zhang:
Yep. The forgotten generation.


North:
So just go as a tourist. Let Merry get on with his work.

So what you're really saying, Merry, is that you’ll start off teaching English at Plateau Gentleman’s [one of the site administrators] house. He’ll give you room and board. I’ll join you in Yunnan and teach Plateau Gentleman’s kids English and nursery rhymes. We can discuss photography, too.


Plum:
Not a bad idea.


Merry Deer:
I know you’re a painter, too, buddy!


Soaring Crane:
Hahaha, I didn’t notice the discussion raging here until today. If you’re coming to Yunnan, Merry Deer, let me know so I can make plans. Come and have a look. It will do you good.

North mentioned my grandson. He really is a bundle of joy. The funny thing is that he can’t write yet, so he dictates letters to me and insists that I reply. When he visits he’s forever pestering me and asking to play. Apparently I’m his idea of the perfect playmate.


Volley:
Itinerant educator vs. itinerant artist? Haha, this rocks. That’s just the kind of thing you’d come up with, Merry. You always have a unique take on things.


Merry Deer:
I bet an itinerant dancer would have no trouble getting by.


North:
I want to be a ganma [adopted mother], a sweet old ethnic-minority mommy. I’d give them love and find out what I’m truly capable of.


Open Field:
This itinerant artist is a genuine free spirit [xiaosa, “natural and unrestrained”].


Merry Deer:
No one thinks of “free spirit” as a derogatory term, but in order to truly be a free spirit you have to give something up.


North:
But you gain something in return.

[Untranslatable and not especially relevant joke that relies on punning interpretations of the Chinese words for “free spirit” and “latte”]


YZ Traveler:
[Reply to untranslatable joke: Literally translated, it goes something like: What’s the difference between a free spirit and a latte? One is watering the flowers, and the other is holding barbells in a weightlifting competition].

Clad in white, adorned in red:
I want to be a free spirit too, but I can’t give anything up. It’s not that easy. Maybe Merry Deer can arrange things so that all of us retired teachers in the thatched hut [a Laosanjie literature discussion board] can travel around giving classes?


Merry Deer:
That would mean setting up a mobile school. Find a school in the mountains, teach there for one semester and then move on? Is it okay if we all live in a dorm?


North:
Find a school in the mountains, teach there for one semester and then move on?
That’s been my plan from way back : ) It would be beyond great if a lot of people want to get in on it : ) I’m with you : )


Merry Deer:
I have a friend who’s actually setting me up with a private tutoring position. Last week was pretty hectic, but now I’m in Shanghai for the May 1 holiday.


Little Bit:
Haha, someone actually wants a university professor for a private tutor?

Of possible further interest to fans of my Christian Science Monitor articles: the current (June 2008) issue of Wired magazine has a feature on Bernie Krause. He was the subject of my first Monitor article back in June 2007.

Back in the Tetons again

As of last Friday, I have returned to Grand Teton National Park to work. I'm in Moose this time, at the park's south entrance. The reason for change? I had applied to my old place very late in the season, and all the positions had already been filled. The same was true here, actually, but they had a cancellation, so now I'm in. I've been working four days, and aside from a few curmudgeonly coworkers, it's been fine. It's great to be back here, that's for sure. Both Bozeman and writing had been getting a bit too complicated for me, and I longed for the simple life that only comes from living a 30-second walk from work and being on the meal plan. Speaking of which, this place (I'm purposely not naming it to avoid getting in trouble) has an excellent meal plan - we can eat anything off the restaurant menu, and sit in the restaurant itself. I guess that's because it's a small place, and it doesn't make sense for them to build a whole dining facility just for employees.

There's been tons of snow all winter and into spring (and into yesterday). The weather was nice and sunny and warm earlier in the week, and I did some road biking into the Slide Lake area east of the park, and also to Jenny Lake and String Lake, which were both still covered in ice and snow. Yesterday and today have been snowy, sleety, rainy, and chilly (see photo below, same view as above), and the same is forecast for the next few days. I've got two days off coming up, and it looks like I'll either be holing up here in the dorm or making my first foray into Jackson. I'm not really looking forward to either. I should look up Black George and hang out with him.



On a related note, I've got some goals for the summer. One is I want to save enough money to travel in the fall. I want to go to Nepal and Ladakh in India, where my friend Deb will be. I've been looking at air fares, and I think it might be cheaper and more flexible to get one of these around-the-world fares. And I'd like to spend a good two months away, so I really want to make and save some money here. With that in mind, I've been trying not to drive much, and haven't driven at all since I got here (one week). That's a good start, but I'd also like to do a lot of hiking, climbing, and kayaking, so I will be driving a certain amount. Just hopefully not too much. But I'd like to avoid going to town as much as possible.

I also haven't had any coffee or caffeinated tea since arriving. And I started jogging today. I'm trying to be all healthy, you see. We'll see how long it lasts.

Vernon Gliko

I was really busy in March with writing assignments, which was great but drove me a little bit crazy. Here's one of the results (of the writing, not the craziness), which ran in the High Country News on April 14.

A Montana rancher stands his ground against subdivision
High Country News
April 14, 2008
http://www.hcn.org/servlets/hcn.Article?article_id=17641

Also recently appearing in print are articles in Outside's Go, Via, Distinctly Montana, Montana Magazine, and the Tributary.

Dolores River - Diversion Dam Rapid

Pandora's Box photos

It turns out I didn't win any of the categories at the Equinox Theatre One-Act Festival, but, really, I'm not upset. I can honestly say that I was impressed with every single one of the plays, and the winners totally deserved to win.

Here's some photos taken on Friday, January 18, by Gerald Pape, Jr., the director of Bob Hendricks' "Let Your Dog Be the Judge." Thanks, Jerry!





(Note: I'm having a little trouble loading more photos. Stay tuned.)

New Year's Resolution (a little late)

I'm finally getting around to this: The one thing I want to say for 2008 is that I want to make $10,000 more from writing than I did in 2007.

Which maybe sounds outrageous, but really, I think it's doable. (Can you keep a secret? I really didn't make that much from writing in 2007.)

Plus, I'm up to $2 a word now! Honestly, when I started doing this I had no idea people got paid that much. Now making a living actually seems feasible.

Writer/Director, me

It's incredible that I haven't written about this sooner: I'm now in the second week of performances of Pandora's Box, a one-act play I both wrote directed for the Equinox Theater's One-Act Festival.

Where can I even begin? How about 20 years ago, when I wrote my first play. It was called A Life Without Porpoise, and I directed it for a one-night performance at Tufts University my sophomore year.

My remember that being a somewhat horrible experience. I had barely any theater experience, and my play wasn't very conducive to the stage: it had several characters, scene changes, and props. An experienced director might have been able to deal with these challenges, but I was the total opposite. To make matters worse, I didn't trust anybody else with the lighting, so during the performance I was busy cringing and screwing that up instead of just sitting in a chair and cringing with everyone else.

So I put playwriting on ice for 20 years. The reason for the thaw? A contest, sponsored by Bozeman's Equinox Theatre, a black box theater known for its comic and cutting edge performances. The odds were excellent: The top 5 scripts would be produced, and only about a dozen or so people entered each year. I figured I could just crank something out, and if it was decent someone else would take the trouble to direct it.

But what to write? Even before I had an idea for a plot, I knew what I didn't want: I didn't want it to be complicated. I wanted one set and two characters, and I'd figure out a story based on that.

An idea came to me. It was based on a true-life experience: I had gone to an art gallery opening, in which there was a very strange sculpture. The artist, a very lovely woman, said it was interactive: there were bits of chocolate truffles in it that could be eaten! Better yet, the chocolate had fortunes in them, and mine said that I had won a prize. The prize was a strange, pink, skull-like sculpture. I didn't know what it was, but I thanked her. What fun!



When I got to the next art gallery, I ran into someone I knew. I showed her my prize... that's when we both noticed it: It was shaped like a vagina. Looking closely, it was unmistakable.

This was my inspiration. I would write a play about a husband and wife who return home from a date at an art gallery, with an unusual prize. Eventually they would discover it to be a vagina sculpture, and hilarity and hijinks would ensue.

I saw the poster advertising the one-act competition at 11 a.m. By noon, I was in the library typing away. I was done with my first draft at 3 p.m.

I was happy, but not too surprised when I learned a few weeks later that my play was one of the five finalists and would be produced - after all, there were only 12 entries and I felt good about mine. What surprised me was that I would be responsible for finding a director for the production, and I didn't know any.

Some of the other writers knew possible directors, though, so I looked them up... but got no takers. Would I have to do this myself, again, after my horrible college experience? Ah, well. Perhaps it was meant to be. And, my play was so simple: One set, two characters, just as I wanted... plus one very important prop. How hard could it be?

The key, of course, would be to find good actors. Have them do all the work! I'd just sit there and enjoy their interpretations. The writers and directors held auditions. Plenty of guys showed up, and I had no difficulty choosing Eddie, the male lead: Kyle Helm, who was the only one of the bunch who had the blue-collar attitude I was looking for. But there were only three women to choose from: one didn't seem right, and the other two were snatched up by the other plays.

The result: I had no leading lady.

Things would be fine, they assured me. There was still plenty of time till the performance, and word must not have gotten out very well about the auditions. Someone would turn up.

And someone did: Louise Rainone, a 20-something mother of two young children, who was also the newest member of the Equinox's all-female Broad Comedy troupe. She read the part of Angela for me, and she was perfect.

That left two obstacles: The recorded voice-over of Pandora Meisterkoch, the German artist; and the all important prop.

I was excited about using my dear friend Nicole Liermann's genuine German accent for the recording of Pandora, but there was one difficulty: Nicole lives in Germany. Can't get much more authentic that that, right? We recorded her over the phone, and producer Shayna Gibson helped me edit Nicole's voice in with phone ringing.

That left the "thing" - the vagina, that is. Sadie Cassavaugh, who had designed a variety of genitalia props for Broad Comedy, was the natural choice. She was really excited to do it, and after giving her some basic specifications as to how the thing needed to be rigged, I encouraged her to be creative with it. She came up with a mushroom-shaped thing that was perfect for its prominent role in the play.



And now we're in the second week of performances! And it's been going great. I must say, I'm really, really impressed with all the shows; it's amazing the talent that's been put together for this. And as for my directing style, well, it's pretty minimalist. I'm content to just let the actors do whatever they want. As a friend once said, if you choose your cast right, you don't have to worry about a thing. While that may be an exaggeration in this case, I think I chose pretty well -- the show's been going great. We've had four performances so far, and there hasn't been a bad one in the bunch.

There's another performance tonight, and then tomorrow's the closing night; that's when the winners will be chosen. There's three categories: the writing competition, judged by two Academy Award-nominated screenwriters; a prize for overall production, judged by the Equinox board; and then the People's Choice award, judged by the audiences.

Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Don't mind him, he'll take the stares

Here's my fourth article for the Christian Science Monitor's Backstory page: "A Legless Artist Documents the World in 32,000 Stares", from the January 22, 2008 edition.

Be sure to give a listen to the little reporter commentary I recorded for the website!

The Greatest Show on (Very Muddy) Earth

Every year Outside Bozeman magazine holds a "Suby Tales" competition, in which owners of Bozeman's omnipresent Subarus submit stories of their cars' wonders. Having been the owner of not only a Subaru, but also of a very excellent Suby tale, I decided to submit a story. Unfortunately, my story was over 1200 words and the max for the contest is 800, so I had to do some heavy editing. Here's the unedited version. I'll let you know if I win anything.


Suby Tale: The Greatest Show on (Very Muddy) Earth


Okay, so I’m a Flatlander. I admit it. I can’t help that I was born and raised in New York, and, like many others, I hope it’s the sort of thing that’s not too obvious.

But, the fact is it takes a while to adjust to some of Montana’s idiosyncrasies. Namely, that a road that’s closed during winter may not having a sign noting this.
Such was the case when, during a warm spell in March of 1993, me and my nifty silver 1990 Loyale wagon decided to take a scenic jaunt. Brandishing an official Montana state highway map with freshly elected governor Marc Racicot’s smiling face looking benevolently upon us, we eyed what looked to be to be an excellent loop: north from Belgrade along Dry Creek Road, picking up Sixteenmile Creek Road at Maudlow, taking that east to Ringling, and then south on Hwy. 89.

The weather had been unseasonably warm, getting up into the seventies. An early spring! Nothing like zipping along Montana’s rural back roads to take in the scenery. Not even a patch of snow was visible along the gravelly Dry Creek Road; it looked like it would be smooth sailing all the way to Ringling.

But looks can be deceiving. The ghosts of Maudlow offered few hints – an abandoned schoolhouse offered no lessons to visitors. The Suby and I rolled onward.

The road became narrower… and muddier. It was barely noticeable at first, but as we passed one cow pasture after another, gaining elevation all the while, the road gradually became slick. Then sloppy. No problem for the Suby, of course – I just pushed the handy red button for on-demand four-wheel-drive, and slathering through the muck was nothing but fun.

Farther on, it got worse. Perhaps you’ve heard of something called “gumbo”? That’s the kind of mud that just sticks to itself – the more your wheels turn, the more mud you pick up, until your tires no longer have traction, they just have mud. The sliding and slathering was no longer fun, as I dropped the Suby’s automatic transmission down to low 2, and then low 1. I wondered how far it was to Ringling; could the road get any worse? Maybe it would be a good idea to turn around. But no, the road couldn’t get any worse, could it?

It got worse. Much worse. I was swerving left and right, flooring the gas pedal in a desperate attempt not to lose momentum.

In an even more desperate move, I abandoned the road. Drove it right off the side, onto the unfenced pasture. Cows looked on curiously. Surprisingly, this worked very well. The road was crap, but the side of the road was not bad. Not good, mind you, but the little car found enough purchase to roll onward.

But the road seemed interminable. I alternated between left-side pasture, road, and right-side pasture, depending on what looked most passable. And the Suby did a great job, powering through the thickest gumbo I ever imagine existing. A nightmare of gumbo – the car was covered in it.

Finally, the road began to descend. Ringling would be ours! But not quite yet – inexplicably, there was a massive snow berm completely blocking the road. I had barely seen any snow the whole way.

But the Suby had done so well, I knew there was only one course of action. I floored the mother. Full speed ahead! I’m givin’ it all she’s got, Cap’n! It would be like Evel Knievel and the Dukes of Hazzard except with snow. In a Subaru.
But it was not to be. Despite the full-throttled thrust, the Suby got high-centered midway through. We were stuck, and good.

These were the days before cell phones, and there was only one course of action: Hoof it to Ringling, and seek help there. How far was Ringling – four miles? I had no jacket, no water, no food, and it was getting dark. I said goodbye to the Suby and headed out on foot.

I didn’t see a soul the whole way to the sleepy little town, but I knew where to go: the bar. No shortage of people there. I shamefully confessed my fate to the crowd of ranchers. The response: “You’re the third one this weekend!”

Apparently, Sixteen Mile Creek Road has high entertainment value for Ringlingers. They told me to use the payphone outside to call a tow truck in Livingston. How much would that cost? Dejectedly, I went outside and picked up the phone. It was dead. Was this part of the fun?

I went back in. One old rancher said, “Well, okay, I’ll give you a pull, but just let me finish my beer.” He was drunk off his keister. I didn’t like the looks of this, but I was desperate.

Following him into the truck, he said, “Just give me a hand bringing in the cows first.” Sure, why not? He probably just wanted me to hold the fence open or something.

We drove a short to the ranch, and getting out of the truck he pointed to two four-wheelers and said, “The right one’s the gas, the left one’s the brake.” He hopped on one of them. I looked at the other, thinking, He’s kidding, right? He fired his up and, taking off, yelled, “Don’t mind the one’s that are calving, I’ll get those later!”

I looked at the thing. How hard could it be? I hopped on, switched the key, grabbed the right handlebar, and turned. It roared to life. I took off after the cows.
How does one herd, anyway? Watching the man, it seemed like you just head straight for the cows and yell a lot. I wasn’t much of a yeller, but I was okay at running straight at them. They generally moved, although rarely in the right direction. And how was I supposed to know which ones were calving? It would be nice if they had a big “C” painted on the side of them or something.

After ten minutes of pathetic herding, the man took pity on this sorry-assed Flatlander and called it good. We headed back to the truck, where another guy was waiting. His minivan was stuck in the mud farther back on the road, with a wife and two kids still in it. Another sucker! “Hop in,” the man said.
Hey! How come he didn’t have to work for it? Ah, well.

My Suby was waiting for us at the snow berm – which, I learned, was the barrier so that no one from the Ringling side would be foolish enough to drive on the road. No such luck on the Maudlow side, of course, but then, what would Ringlingers do for fun this time of year? The Superduty diesel made short work of it, plucking the Suby off the snow like popping the head off a dandelion.

It was smooth sailing from there on out. The Suby was covered in thick clumps of mud, but it was no worse for wear. Me, on the other hand… well, I’d had a good walk. I learned how to drive a four-wheeler, and how to herd cattle. I didn’t bother with the ones that were calving (or several others that weren’t). I learned my car kicks ass in mud.

And most of all, now I know where to hang out in March when I’m looking to make fun of some Flatlanders.

Undersea Photo Ops

From my recent trip to Florida:

Here's me and Squidworth at the Nickelodeon Hotel in Orlando...



And here's me and a mermaid at Weekie Wachee World...



I might as well grow some gills and start living underwater!