Friday, September 22, 2006
DAY SEVENTEEN: MILWAUKEE IV
An early morning for Sonja's 8:00 am Urban Myths, Legends, and Secrets class. A local photographer, John Kuehl, shows a series of photos he's taken from a bridge in the city. They are ambiguous, as much about minimalism, abstraction, and formalism as they are about the development of the land around the bridge. He is a sweetheart. But I'm distracted by my own talk and its refinement, and spend the rest of the morning, scanning, photoshop-ing, and editing.
During lunch Sonja picks up Cristina Sitja-Rubio, another classmate of ours who is visiting from Barcelona, from the bus station. I am mildly wary.
The talk goes O.K. I meet with three students individually and talk with them about their work. I feel simultaneously connected and foreign to their processes. It's hard to enter without much context and be able to give them feedback that is relevant and helpful. How much am I coming up with sentences to hear my own blathering ideas and how much is striking home? Teaching continues to both scare me and feel like a glove.
The next few hours pass by in an odyssey Sonja has been dreaming about for days. She takes Cristina and me to her gallery, Dean Jensen. He talks a lot and acknowledges some of the art he is showing sucks. Next we visit her favorite (and only?) contemporary gallery, Hotcakes (the art sells like...). The owner, Mike, has fled and left this note behind.
Around the corner is the Art Bar and the attitude-laden barkeep serves us white wine and tea in a code of silence. Cain shows up and Cristina asks me to take a picture of one of the walls.
Sonja insists on showing us her parents' home. At the Tudor-style house, we are included in plans for a big sushi dinner. Sonja's aunt and two cousins, brother (home from three weeks at college), and brother's friend (home from basic training) join us. It's a long, festive, and generous dinner.
Cristina and I talk more and begin to feel comfortable with one another. We flirted with friendship at one point, but it never took. It reminds me of that period in school when thirtysomething women cautiously sniffed each other out in the search for a grad school girlfriend with whom to process the experience, i.e. friend dating.
An early morning for Sonja's 8:00 am Urban Myths, Legends, and Secrets class. A local photographer, John Kuehl, shows a series of photos he's taken from a bridge in the city. They are ambiguous, as much about minimalism, abstraction, and formalism as they are about the development of the land around the bridge. He is a sweetheart. But I'm distracted by my own talk and its refinement, and spend the rest of the morning, scanning, photoshop-ing, and editing.During lunch Sonja picks up Cristina Sitja-Rubio, another classmate of ours who is visiting from Barcelona, from the bus station. I am mildly wary.
The talk goes O.K. I meet with three students individually and talk with them about their work. I feel simultaneously connected and foreign to their processes. It's hard to enter without much context and be able to give them feedback that is relevant and helpful. How much am I coming up with sentences to hear my own blathering ideas and how much is striking home? Teaching continues to both scare me and feel like a glove.
The next few hours pass by in an odyssey Sonja has been dreaming about for days. She takes Cristina and me to her gallery, Dean Jensen. He talks a lot and acknowledges some of the art he is showing sucks. Next we visit her favorite (and only?) contemporary gallery, Hotcakes (the art sells like...). The owner, Mike, has fled and left this note behind.
Around the corner is the Art Bar and the attitude-laden barkeep serves us white wine and tea in a code of silence. Cain shows up and Cristina asks me to take a picture of one of the walls.
Sonja insists on showing us her parents' home. At the Tudor-style house, we are included in plans for a big sushi dinner. Sonja's aunt and two cousins, brother (home from three weeks at college), and brother's friend (home from basic training) join us. It's a long, festive, and generous dinner.
Cristina and I talk more and begin to feel comfortable with one another. We flirted with friendship at one point, but it never took. It reminds me of that period in school when thirtysomething women cautiously sniffed each other out in the search for a grad school girlfriend with whom to process the experience, i.e. friend dating.
