What is art?

I realized this morning that the "existential" portion of this blog has been a bit lacking, except perhaps for the cow. I like cows. Especially the chocolate cow in a chocolate field by a chocolate stream...the one that gives chocolate milk. No. It does. I saw it on the television and it has to actually be true.

I do not like to drink chocolate milk for a number of reasons, including the insightful commentary by Sandra Boynton that it (like chocolate ice cream) does not actually taste like chocolate. However, my extensive research (read: "Google") reminds me of another "chocolate cow" phenomenon...a popular 1980's drink.

My brother and I once had a rather heated falling out over the meaning of art at Christmas brunch in the early 1990's. At least, I do remember him screaming, cursing and storming away from a plate that still held bacon. That was a pretty strong measure of the seriousness of the situation. Tony, like Jeffrey Steingarten, is of the opinion that bacon is a food that always improves everything.

I do not remember what we were actually arguing about.

images: Yoo Hoo, owner of the Chocolate Cow drink popular in the 1980's public domain image from Wikipedia.

Good things and other things

Day three of better food choices... Began oddly. I had read a really distressing little book by Neal Schusterman (If you have not, you must read The Schwa was Here...) and had weird nightmares afterward. Oddly, the involved the logo from Elephant Walk, a Cambodian restaurant in Cambridge, MA, and the work scene from Dumbo (yes, the Disney movie)...

...I woke up humming "we're happy, hearty roust-abouts" which may or may not be the right words.

Choice 1: Finish

• milk with a lovely bowl of Frosted Flakes
• cage free eggs
• free range chicken with onion, tomato and pineapple over pasta
• organic chocolate bar

Choice 2: Avoid

• Yummy hut
• highway convenience foods (missed McDonald's a leader in humane animal welfare and avoiding deforestation)
• mystery eggs

Day 4 began with "expired food bingo" at my parents' house. I never notice how much expired food is squirreled away in my house until I move or I visit a family member and see what they have. At least I come by this tendency honestly.

I then annoyed the waitress at the Irish breakfast place by asking where the eggs came from. (She might have offered "hens" as an answer, imho). Ate porridge and a lovely scone. For lunch, peanut butter and jelly on "whole wheat" type packaged bread.

Dinner: Cheesecake factory. Stunning selection of lovely-looking food. Arugula salad (yummy and with imported cheese) and guacamole (generous portion) and chips. Nice crusty bread. I've never been to Cheesecake factory before. Lovely.

Day 5: Bagels from the local bagel place....also Thanksgiving day. ...we shall see what happens

Cheesecake photo by Pilauricy posted to Wikipedia and used under creative commons license.

The Teletubbies of Siena

My cousin Erin and I share very few cultural connections for people who grew up in the same family. Even our taste in Adam Sandler movies is completely nonoverlapping (we have not seen the same ones, apparently), and really, when you come to think about it, there is not very much range in Adam Sandler’s movies. (No offense--they’re generally quite cute--I’ve seen The Wedding Singer about nine times—maybe twelve—but really, there is a working formula there that is just not messed with too much.) So, it came as something of a surprise when I discovered that Erin and I were joined in mutual and enduring dislike of the teletubbies.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Teletubbies, they are small, color-coded creatures who squeal and giggle a lot and talk weird baby language. Each one has a different shape on its head, and they also happen to have little television monitors implanted

in their little tubby tummies. Tele-tubbies. Get it?

The Teletubbies were first created by Anne Wood and Andrew Davenport and have won several prestigious awards because the program had unusually high production values and generally promoted wholesome good fun that was also educationally sound. It is designed for pre-school children.

I find the Teletubbies very hard to watch.

My friends find this a bit odd. Likely because I have some rather juvenile likes, and also because I do enjoy many items that are not well-produced or educationally sound.

(Right: Teletubbies, Dipsy, La-La, Po and Tinky Winky)

I can sit contentedly through almost any non-horror type movie that does not feature John Candy or Bill Murray (I'm not so much with pratfall), although I have watched Groundhog Day and Planes, Trains, and Automobiles each several times with a high degree of enjoyment.

I can watch 4.5 hours of “Spot” videos without losing my composure. I like Smurfs so much that I went to the Musee de Bande Desinee in Brussels to buy French-language Schroumpf comics (three times). I watched the Care Bears movie without gagging (the art by Elena Kucharik is really pretty).

And I even sat several times through Land Before Time VI in which a group of young herbivorous dinosaurs find a baby tyrannosaurus, whom they name “Chomper,” and proceed to bring it back to its large and voracious parents despite the fact that it keeps trying to eat them. It’s a musical.

No, I’m not kidding.

Yes, several times.

In one weekend.

So, I think it is fair to say that I have a fairly high tolerance for the saccharine.

(Left: Care Bears from American Greetings.)

I can’t watch the Teletubbies. It’s something to do with the squealing, the television tummies and also the uptake among the gay-lesbian-transgendered community about the purple Teletubbie with a triangle on his head. He carries a purse. I'm fairly certain that the program's creators did not intend for this to happen.

For those of you who don’t know, a purple or lavender triangle was the Nazi symbol for homosexuals, who they were made to wear their symbol much like the Jewish community were forced to wear a star. Personally, I think that the gay-lesbian-transgendered community deserves a better mascot than a squealing, giggling part-television animal that doesn’t seem to be able to speak articulately. Earring Magic Ken is a bit limited, I know, but still, we’re talking about a community of reasonable adults, who deserve a more dignified mascot. In my opinion, of course, which is only worth as much as anyone else's opinion.

Which brings me to Siena, a lovely city and the capitol of the province of Siena in Tuscany. It’s still a medieval city because it was conquered by Florence, which halted all building in the 14^thor 15^th century, so the city is quite authentic except in a few particulars, which make it kind of like Disneyland but without the animatronics.

(Above) Tuscany.

For example, no one throws excrement and vegetable peelings out into the streets, which would have been a highly authentic and accurate medieval touch. Of course, there are not a lot of animals out and about the streets, except for dogs, which are all on leashes.

The streets are cleaned every day.

There’s also a lot of pizza and Coca-Cola (the nice European kind in those cool tall cans) to be had, which is probably a bit post-medieval. Although I do understand that there were medieval versions of Coke such as "wine" and "mead."

Before I visited Tuscany, I had an idea that it was all stuccoed and rustic, in muted ochres and in all ways far outside the commercial interests of, say, the local shopping mall in Camden NJ or Conshohocken PA. Not that I do not love Camden and Conshohocken, but still, do they have to be everywhere?

Imagine my surprise at finding a Mc Donald’s right near my hotel (Ok---in a rustic stone building, but still...) within minutes of arriving. It seems to be closed now, but at the time it was teeming with Italians. I had followed directions from the taxi driver for the discount clothing store because my suitcase had decided that it would prefer to stay in Frankfurt rather than joining me in Italy. So, I was prepared for a certain amount of commercial US culture… and then I saw the teletubbies.

I was walking back from the office into the walled section of the city, looking back from the Neon-haloed Virgin—no, it’s not tacky at all. Think typical, rustic-looking Tuscan street, rough-hewn stone buildings here and there, a medieval arch a couple of blocks ahead, and a picturesque little church. Outside is an old and charming little statue of the Blessed Virgin, crowned with a blue neon halo. The color of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s light saber before it was digitally remastered.

Trust me, it’s simply charming.

Anyway, I was looking back from the Neon-haloed Virgin into the Singer sewing machine store, which was having a soldi, when there to my wondering eyes appeared…teletubbies. Several teletubbies, jammed onto a shelf, and not at all part of the soldi. Once I saw those, I saw teletubbies everywhere. Well, not really, but there were a huge selection of teletubbie-realted products in the toy store near to Piazza del Campo, and I saw a few here and there in some other stores.

Compared to Smurfs (which I saw only in the toy store) or dinosaurs (ditto), teletubbies were the most popular children’s item, aside from Hello Kitty!, who also happens to be popular with young adults and features in some juniors boutiques and bookstores.

And Italians are just so…stylish, what with bella figura and all. I mean really, Ferragamo v. teletubbie should be self-evident. When I first spotted the teletubbies I thought about how Erin taught her daughter to say “yuck!” and make a Mr. Yuk face whenever teletubbies were mentioned. I manged not to do this in Siena, which is good, because I wouldn’t want anyone thinking Americans are weird and inelegant. I did trip over my own feet, though, which probably didn't help. When it struck me…the French absolutely love Jerry Lewis. And why? Because he is a stupid American—or at least that’s what my friend’s sister-in-law told her. Could this have something to do with their teletubbularity?

I’m just relieved that the teletubbies were a British import.

Images: Duomo in Siena. Image from Wikipedia by Ronen Perry. Used under Gnu license. Provinces of Tuscany. Public domain image also from Wikipedia.

Teletubbies. Also from wikipedia: a screenshot of a copyrighted television program or station ID. The copyright is most likely owned by the company or corporation that produced it. Care Bears, copyright American Greetings. Original art by Elena Kucharik.

Fair use rationale for copyrighted characters and images: The use of a limited number of web-resolution screenshots for identification and critical commentary qualifies as fair useunder United States copyright law. This use does not limit the commercial value of the original and is nondefamatory.

Sacrifices du jour or "Good Things"

OK-- perhaps that title is a bit melodramatic and smacks of Martha Stewart. I used to love her magazine before that design show came on and showed that young editor who yelled at the furniture buyer. It's too bad...I bought every issue at the supermarket (full newsstand price), and then I had to stop because the yelling just bothered me. Not in general, as a New Yorker, I'm OK with general yelling, but Martha Stewart, for me, is an island of peaceful muted pastels in a sea of blaring primary colors.

I hope I get over this soon.

Speaking of which....Day 2 of better food choices started with

1. Avoiding chicken tikka masala at favorite Indian place. Will go back once I figure out where they get their paneer from.

Cow photo (note lovely grass) from US Agriculture Service. Image is in the public domain, and provides reassurance that we, too, are nice to cows.

2. did not buy mini Babybel cheese, Tillanook cheddar, white Singles, or string cheese (products of USA) as unsure how cows were treated. Instead bought Kerrygold (product of Ireland), as EU people kinder to innocent farm animals, allowing them to thrive on lush farmland, according to web site. (Decided to look Tillanook and up on web as they refuse to give cows growth hormones according to the label...good...and Babybel is sold at Whole Foods, so must be OK? Will check.)

3. avoided New England Clam Chowder (clams OK, but bacon might have been from abused pig)

4. did not eat possible slave labor chocolate, but got organic variety instead

5. avoided delicious tasty cookies with dark chocolate filling...so yummy, but head filled with visions of depressed-looking children picking beans (of course this might be confused with coffee in my mind)

6. did not buy favorite crackers, favorite vanilla cookies (eggs), favorite candy bar (chocolate), sushi (nonsustainable), yum-o-riffic shrimp skewers at fun restaurant near MIT (unsustainable possibly as shrimp provenance unclear)

7. did not go to Yummy Hut for vegetable fried rice because could not trust self to avoid egg rolls...(so tasty)

Food ethics… OR …yes, chickens have feelings, too

When I was in college my dear friend Susan told me that egg production was the cruelest form of animal management. I believed her…after all she should have known because she was phi beta kappa in animal husbandry at a very good program with a working farm and everything. And I remember the working farm part because of the cow that stepped on my foot at “ag” (short for agriculture) field day.

Ag field day was a pivotal day for me because it was the day that underlined for me the complete impracticality of my educational choices. I chose a very crunchy sort of a school to attend, one where I could fully express my eccentric, hermitlike, bookish leanings as much as I wanted as well as have my very old room in a stone building with very bad heat. I loved it, but it was not practical. I was studying things like ancient Greek (…I decided on that because I loved the Rosetta stone and my friends, impractical as I was said “cool” and not “are you nuts?!!” when I declared that I would study a dead language…good friends), Dante (infernariffic), Dickens, and “independent study” which involved reading a lot of thick, fat, useless Victorian Novels. So fun. And chock full of people who cared deeply about the fates of cows and baby veals.

Anyway, Susan, who is now a bird keeper at one of the leading wildlife conservation institutions in the world, was learning how to do cool stuff, like how to keep cows from dying, to shear sheep, to manage pigs (very smart animals). Her job now is to keep very important endangered species animals from dying. I write things up and negotiate with other people in how to write them up. Not really substantive.

I remembered what Susan said to me about egg management again when I was flying back from Frankfurt (or possibly Munich—business trip connections—because writing cannot be done on computer and emailed all the time in these confusing times) reading a book by Peter Singer, leading ethics guy and activist-type person. For the first time I am sorry I never tried to attend Princeton (not that I would necessarily have gotten in—it’s highly competitive—but at least should have tried.)

Photo of baby chickens dyed strange colors, but at least not stuffed in a cage with beaks seared off with hot irons.

Don’t get me wrong. Over the years I have read dozens of books on food and food ethics. Beyond Beef, Fast Food Nation, Omnivore’s Dilemma, The Jungle…. And as a relatively rabid Gordon Ramsay fan, I have learned over the past few years about human animal management by watching The F-Word. (Food)

I have stopped eating eggs, then forgotten why and then been reminded of why at least a dozen times. I tended to buy the “cage free” eggs, thinking that I would prefer to have Foghorn Leghorn type chicken eggs than ones from Poindexter-like chicken who would have been happy enough in a cage. Singer explained, finally, why exactly, I had been doing this all these years.

Finally, I am listening to Susan and vowing (now that I live in a city full of Whole Foods Markets) to start making more ethical food choices.

To wit: In the past two days I resisted the urge to buy Hostess chocolate cupcakes—yummy but possibly tainted by slave labor (chocolate not listed on the slave-free chocolate web site) and caged chickens; chicken salad at Bruegger’s Bagels (delish bagels, BTW)—unsure of the provenance of the chicken (of course idiotically forgot what was in bagels then remembered they do not always have eggs—whew); and vowed only to buy European, local organic, and Mexican cheeses because they are from places that are nicer to cows. I bought free range chicken, fair trade tea (twice at local bookstore), and then realized why this is so hard. Even if I do manage to be better about food, I am still possibly buying goods made by slave labor, leather byproducts of various inhumane industries, and let’s face it, I live in a society where my ability to buy organic, fair-trade, and other better things is in fact somehow predicated on the fact that my nation is wealthy and able to exploit other nations to make these choices possible. I therefore turned down a few cunning products from sketchy provenances, and vowed to seek advice from one of my political scientist friends.

But enough negativity.

I was quite excited when I read that McDonald’s had adopted high standards for animal ethics (I do find their cute little burgers to be so delicious), but a bit sad when I realized that even McDonald’s was having trouble controlling its suppliers in the US.

I am now vowing to make at least one ethically better food and goods choice each day, and I will try very hard to list them here on my blog.

Bagel image from National Institutes of Health is in the public domain. Chicken image by nsaum and posted in Wikipedia used under creative commons license.

rebogging after all these years...months

Even though this blog is really for Jayne, my cool friend at the bookstore, I should credit my friends of the North Rhine Westphalia region for getting me started back again.

OK—both of my friends are not from the North Rhine Westphalia area although they both live there now in a beautiful new house.

One is from Quebec, and he lives in Germany, near the Dutch border even though he speaks neither Dutch nor German. He teaches in Flanders, even though he does not speak Flemish, either.

My friend is brave. I admire him. In fact, I admire him so much that I once went to MiniEuropeagainst my will because he said it would be a good idea.

Mini Europe photo by gregd1957 posted in Wikiepdia and used under creative commons license.