Awkward Hairdresser Conversations

I used to be of the "cheapest is best" style of hair person. I would go to whatever CostClips I could find every four months or so and have them cut the shit out of my hair.

That changed with wife.

"You're an adult now, you should have an adult haircut."

Fair point, I figure. I have a weird shaped head with a bald spot on one temple and a knob of a skull in back, so it was always a crapshoot weather the latest haircut would accommodate these things or just make me look bad for a month while my hair grew out. Like I said, I didn't care for more than 30 years about this. If I could get my hair cut for 10 bucks or less, I didn't care if it looked like it was done by machete.

Now I go to Aveda every three months to wife's hairdresser. They wash my hair as well, which feel really nice on an early Friday morning before work. I still feel like shit for having to spend 40 bucks plus tip on a haircut, but I will admit it looks good every time rather than about half the time. I agree that part of working in the professional world is having a decent haircut. Although the engineers i work with haven't all caught on to this.

I do not have the gift of gab. At gatherings, I sit and listen, sometimes I have a fun anecdote to add, but I dont' know how to barge my way into a conversation and the moment passes onto new topics I know nothing about. With hairdressers, my life has been silent. After the "what do you do" conversation and the "where are you from" bundle of fun, the conversation dies.

Sometimes I just listen to other people talk - about their kids, their lake home renovations, and other things that just make me bored.

Yesterday though, I had the longest conversation ever with the stylist. But we still spent the last 30 minutes in silence.

Here's how it went:

Her: Any plans for the weekend?

Me: Well, we're going to the new Star Trek movie tonight, but that's about it.

Her: I have never seen any of the Star Trek or Star Wars movies or shows.

Me: Wow, I bet you get yelled at all the time when you tell people that.

Her: Yup. People get really angry about it.

Me: People get angry at wife and I when they find out we've never been to the MN state fair.

Her: Are you kidding? You haven't been?

Me: Nope.

Her: That's crazy. You need to go. I go a few times a year.

Me: Well, we have only lived here for one of them, and it was super hot last year.

Her: Doesn't matter. If you are in a five state area, you are obligated.

Me: Well, maybe we'll go. We are going to a lot of craft fairs this summer. I hate craft fairs, but I want to write about them.

Her: I hate craft fairs too. Tree stumps, felt mittens, wind chimes, ugh.

Me: I know.

We shared our mutual loathing of crafts for another couple minutes. And then all was silence.

I thought it was great that she got mad at me for something trivial immediately after implying how weird it was for others to get mad at her for something trivial. Maybe that's why I don't do small talk - I like the clashes sometimes too much.

Quickie

Just a short entry this time, rolling off the fingers.

Been a year since I got my job. It's been a good year overall. We got out of pre-foreclosure and pre-bankruptcy, we can afford to live. Wife is rocking the unemployment right now, getting an insane number of interviews, each of which brings her closer to a job. Hoping like balls her interview tomorrow goes well, cause that job is on the same damn block as mine and we could move and not have to do this driving for an hour or so every day.

Went to the first Farmers market of the year for us on Saturday. Got two bags of lettuce (5 bucks for one, 3.50 for the other). It's pricey, but DAMN you notice the difference. You forget that lettuce is supposed to taste good after a winter of the stuff shipped in from wherever in the world is warm. We get by in the winter on green leaf heads, which is okay. Once wife got iceberg because it was on sale, and it was like eating tasteless garbage (if that word pairing makes any sense). So if you learn anything from this post, it is to try Farmer's Market lettuce. Trust me, it'll change the way you see salad. I also bought a 6 dollar bunch of asparagus, which was not noticeably different than the stuff at the store. But with the goat cheese and green onions I also got, I was able to make a delicious quiche.

This farmer's market was at the Mill City Museum, so it had the added atmosphere of industrial river folk with girders, old train tracks, and tin roofs. I felt like I was in that black market place in The Hunger Games. It was awesome. Will definitely return later when prices have gone down as supplies grow around here.

Until then, wife and I will continue to cram in a salad every night, which even when it tastes awesome begins to feel like a chore to finish a five dollar bag before it goes bad.

He Said/She Said: Art-A-Whirl for the new couple

Wife and I wrote this last year after Art-A-Whirl, which is going on this weekend in Minneapolis. Our dance card is full this year with Red Sox games, so we won’t be going. Maybe next year. Anyway, on with the blog…

He Said

As a recent transplant to the Twin Cities, I knew nothing about Art-A-Whirl® going into it. Wife suggested it as a fun excursion into the art scene. Consider this article the result of a lot of fumbling about and trying to get my bearings to enjoy an event that has established itself for 17 years before we came along.

With a name like Art-A-Whirl, you expect to get dizzy. We didn’t plan much for it beyond figuring out where to park and hop on a trolley. We drove through a sea of ironic hairstyles and fixed gear bikes, becoming more and more apprehensive about this experience. Were we hip enough to do this at all? Wife said she read in City Pages that what you wear to these events is important – unlike what your mother believes, this is a fashion show.

The St. Mary’s Orthodox Cathedral parking lot was so empty, we wondered if we were in the right place. We decided to check out the church, and all our pretensions about Art-A-Whirl were dashed away by good ol’ religious iconography.

Every surface in the cathedral was covered with art. The looming figure of Mary in the dome up front appeared more three dimensional the more you looked at it. Acapella hymns filled the air, and we just had to sit down and take it all in. The people at the church were very helpful in asking if we had questions and explaining some of the finer aspects of the icons surrounding us. It was a shame, but also wonderful, that this stop on the tour wasn’t more populated. It felt special.

After getting our fill of religious iconography, we went to wait for the trolley. After 15 minutes of wondering if it would ever arrive, waiting for the trolley became an existential experiment in how long we could hold out. I started to question the existence of the trolley as night approached, and what in my life led me to sit on a corner infested with ants while passing the time with the wife.

But eventually the trolley did arrive. Turned out it was on a 45 minute schedule, not the 25 we had been told online. The host was pleasant and kept things lively as the semi-paved streets jostled our fillings. We now had information booklets to start planning our trip. As it was getting late, we decided to get off at the stop marked on the map at the corner of 2^nd Street and 13^th Avenue and just walk our way back to the car with the opportunity to stop at four or five studios. The trolley driver had different designs despite what the map said, and she blew by this scheduled stop to end up at the American Craft Council. Oh well.

We entered Grain Belt Studios at 79 13^th Avenue. Before I knew it, wife was blaming me for poor planning, there were two people who appeared to be dead lying in shrouds on red sheeted beds, stringed music filled the air, and people zipped about in every direction. We were having trouble knowing where to look, and longed for the quiet rooms of the Walker where your neck isn’t fighting your swiveling head trying to figure out where your attention should be. We decided to escape for less assaulting environments.

I think it was somewhere between seeing the topless kilt-wearing guy and the young woman who passed out near Two 12 Pottery and Gift that we decided to call it a night and start fresh in the morning.

Our first stop on Saturday was the Casket Arts Building. I was apprehensive about visiting another big place with a cacophony of artists after the previous day’s experience, but the Casket Arts Building was a wonderful diversion.

What I loved about the Casket Arts Building was the segmentation. We wandered around with no idea where we had been or where we were going next, but in each room, we could focus on that room alone. Each room was tied together by a single artist’s work, or by several artists with common tastes that worked well together.

Still, after several hours of exploring the one building, we were beat. In the end, if there was one complaint about the experience, it is that there is simply too much to do and see. There’s no way one can see it all in an enjoyable manner, and it can feel like you are missing out on something around the next corner or in the next building. You can let the art overwhelm you, Whirl-style, but sooner or later, you have to accept that your mind and heart have been filled to the brim with interesting pieces and let it go. It’s nice to know that we can keep going to Art-A-Whirl for years to come and still visit new studios every time.

She said

"We love to be naked" proclaimed a sign, made of construction paper and black sharpie, scotch-taped to a wall in an artist's studio in the Casket Arts Building. This profound piece of found art defined the art-a-whirl experience for me.

I am an incredibly private person, so much so that I don't even have a Facebook page. How these artists allow thousands of strangers to tramp into their private work spaces is unfathomable to me. Seeing the artists' microwaves, chipped and stained coffee mugs next to overused, dirty coffee pots, mish-mashes of cd cases and books, and art supplies organized in a way that only the artist can understand forces the viewer to see the artist as mortal, vulnerable, and human. Art-a-whirl demonstrates to people like me, who have only seen art as separate from the artist on walls and in instillations, that art is a lifestyle, a way of life. 

In some ways, the invitation into private space makes sense.  Every day the artist exposes themselves and their vulnerability. Whether it’s a painting, a chair, a performance piece or a ring, all present the soul and humanity of their creators. 

One of the most intense invitations into a private space was the St. Mary's Orthodox Cathedral. They graciously opened their doors to have not only their artwork judged, but also, perhaps unintentionally, their faith. Two women were painting icons on either side of the church. One of the church members explained that icons are painted from dark to light, as they believe Christ brings humanity from darkness to light. Very few people were inside the church when I was there, and many people chose not to visit the Cathedral, perhaps turned off by the very idea that the Church might be prostheletizing. This was not the case, the church provided a serene, cool, and welcoming environment, and in turn, allowed viewers to judge integral pieces of their humanity, just like the more conventional artist studio.

In the end, the sheer thought of thousands of people viewing and judging my cubicle raises my blood pressure.  I have more respect for those who do more than I could ever dream about, sharing their humanity with strangers.  Loving to be naked is no simple feat.

Summer of Crap ... er ... Craft

We put it off for a year, but this summer, wife has decided, is the summer of crafts.

You read that right.

Last summer we were broke as shit, so it wasn't much use to put gas in the car to go to craft shows if we weren't going to even have a chance of buying anything. I was just starting a relationship with a local arts publication, and pitched the idea of having a curmudgeon like me galavanting around to craft fairs and to see whether or not by sheer volume I would be turned to what I considered to be the dark side. The pitch didn't take, and the editor turned out to be a horrible fit for me - as in she published a few articles but could never explain what she wanted and didn't want to put the work in on editing anything. I love writing multiple drafts, but not everyone jives with improving that way. I’m writing columns for an international art magazine now, so plan to use this space as a journal of this summer’s project to mold into a functioning piece by the end of August.

Anywho, the idea was germinated by This article by a guy who had to go to the Minnesota State Fair. I haven't been to the state fair ever, but I've learned to keep my mouth shut about that. I said as much at work last year and I think two co-workers were seriously ready to slap me for saying I'd never been. Really, their reaction was visceral anger flames.

So what could someone like me do to not copycat that article, but go one better? Well, smarty pants, why not make it a marathon? Sure anyone can go to a state fair for a day and write about it, but dragging your ass out of bed on an otherwise perfectly good weekend and spending hours looking at crafts? That's dedication. That's the kind of self-flagellating that in my mind outdoes any of those ridiculous self-mutilation videos people do online.

My idea of craft fairs up to this point has been shaped largely by attending them in Fergus Falls and Fargo, once because I was a reporter and, well, there's not much to report about in Fergus Falls, so you end up going to shitty craft fairs. And in Fargo - I went because Wife. 

Most times, I can bitch enough to be allowed to go sit in a corner with a book while wife walks around. I read my way through a chunk of The Road that way, and somewhat envied the characters in the book who didn't have craft fairs to go through, just a post apocalyptic wasteland of roving cannibals. 

When I hear the word, craft, I think of silverware with colorful rocks attached to it with wire to match fiestaware colors. I think of homemade belts. I think of hand painted rocks. I think of people with very specific sensibilities who for some reason are able to get other people to pay them for the things they found lying around and added some paint to or burned with a soldering iron. 

In short, I'm an asshole about crafts. 

The pain began a couple weeks ago. April 21, American Craft Council Show 2013. This was a show that you have to pay to park and pay to get in, so before Wife and I even see our first booth, we're out 34 bucks. 

The show was held in a large at the St. Paul RiverCenter, which seemed to be just the right size for the event. As a bonus, they had the event booths lined up in six clean rows with chairs at either end, so you could take a breather, walk down a row, and if your back was acting up like wife’s was that day, you can take another rest. This was sprinting style craft-fair attendance, and I liked it. I also liked being able to see an end to the place. Some craft fairs are set up outdoors and it seems like the rows of booths will never end until you give up.

The other nice thing about this event was that payment for entry seemed to guarantee quality. There were very few booths that struck me as especially “craft” driven as I have described above. Instead, this place was filled with what I would call artisans – people who have obviously put a lot of time and effort into providing quality over quantity. The booths were equally divided between metalworks, ceramics, woodworks, clothing, and jewelry. There was one photography booth as I recall, and a couple painting booths, but for the most part, this was the type of art/craft where you take something from nature and manuplate, cut, mold, and shape into something beautiful.

We went on a Sunday, which was the last day they were open, and the crowd was easily manageable. We never felt pushed along or as if we were simply avoiding being cornered by throngs.

Wife found what she wanted in the first row of booths, but we waited until we had seen everything to be sure and walked back (which is another nice thing about this setup – try this at some craft fairs and you may end up walking a mile back to the place you want to get something).

She bought a leaf.

Yes, a leaf.

This was actually more cool than it sounds. The guy collects leaves that mean something to him – at home, on trips to national parks – and preserves them by either encasing them with a thin layer of copper or by replicating them in copper. The process also takes color into account. What you end up with is a perfect (or imperfect) leaf in incredible detail with a pin on back to use it as a brooch or to connect to a necklace.

I got a nifty end grain cutting board that is composited together from various wood pieces. Not the most artistic of choices, but we needed a cutting board. It’s been a month now though, and I still have to get mineral oil to treat the board with.

Our third purchase – all for less than 100 total – was a Japanese influenced vase for a single flower. We got it in honor of our recent trip to the opera for the Japanese influenced production of Turandot.

I felt good about all three purchases – something not always true when it comes to craft fairs.

I do regret not partaking in a handcrafted whiskey tasting during the fair, but there was no way to know how much it would put us back, and I didn’t want the embarrassment of asking and finding out it was way out of my league.

The other aspect of this fair worth noting was about a dozen booths that were like little rooms decorated by local interior designers by creating the space around one craft piece from a booth at this fair. While that sounds rather interesting, the end results were like looking at pretension if pretension was a room that was decorated by someone who hates the idea of people living in that room.

Overall, our first foray into the craft world for 2013 was successful. Would I say I enjoy craft fairs now? Absolutely not. It will take more work to disabuse me of my prejudices when it comes to this whole “craft” world.

Our second scheduled craft fair was to be “Craftstravaganza” but with wife still on the hunt for full time work, we couldn’t swing the cash that it would take to gas the car to get there let alone actually get something. This was a crushing blow to wife, particularly after a job rejection she had made through the third round of interviews to get. We spent the day relapsing into smoking and heavy drinking what we had around the house instead. (6 cigarettes total, rest thrown away that night. 2 bottles of wine killed by noon on Saturday).

So the plan is to re-join this craft project with the Edina Art fair at the end of the month. This weekend is Art-A-Whirl, but we just don’t have the energy or cash flow to do that between two Red Sox vs. Twins outings on Friday and Sunday. We also went last year and had a less than stellar experience.