THE DAUGHTER OF AN AIR FORCE PILOT, JEWELS SPENT HER FORMATIVE YEARS GROWING UP IN TRIPOLI. SHE TRAVELED EXTENSIVELY WITH HER FAMILY FROM TUNIS TO TANGIERS AND RECALLS ENDLESS WANDERING THROUGH EXOTIC MARKET SOUKS WITH HER MOTHER. STRUCK BY THE BEAUTY OF THE CORAL, AMBER, SILVER AND GOLD, ALL THE WEALTH OF NORTH AFRICAN FAMILIES, SHE SAYS, "I WAS HOOKED." AFTER HER EDUCATION IN EUROPE, JEWELS SPENT MANY YEARS TRAVELING, LIVING IN INDIA, SOUTH AMERICA AND AGAIN IN NORTH AFRICA, EXPANDING HER EDUCATION OF JEWELRY DESIGN AND KNOWLEDGE OF CULTURAL ARTIFACTS–ALWAYS COLLECTING.
DURING HER EARLY TRAVELS JEWELS STUDIED EXOTIC WOMEN IN ALL THEIR DECORATED BEAUTY; HOW THEY WORE JEWELRY, WHY IT CAUGHT HER EYE, WHAT MADE IT SO DISTINCT AND HOW IT WAS MADE. SHE WOULD SKETCH THEIR COSTUMES, AND OVER THE YEARS SHE DEVELOPED A VERY SEASONED EYE, ABLE TO RECOGNIZE REAL AND AUTHENTIC. SINCE OPENING HER MARRAKECH STUDIO, JEWELS IS ABLE TO PRESENT HER DESIGNS TO A BROADER AUDIENCE, AND ALSO CREATE OPPORTUNITIES FOR YOUNG, EDUCATED WOMEN WHO OTHERWISE HAVE LIMITED WORK AND BENEFIT OPTIONS LIVING IN MOROCCO.
THERE'S JUST SOMETHING ABOUT JEWELS' WORK THAT AUTOMATICALLY TRANSPORTS THE WEARER TO AN EXOTIC PLACE AND TIME. HER MASTERFUL STYLE OF HAND WEAVING TRANSFORMS FINE ANTIQUE TRIBAL ELEMENTS (AMBER, CORAL, SHELLS, TURQUOISE, GOLD, SILVER COINS, TALISMANS, TRADE OBJECTS) INTO SOPHISTICATED, HIP AND WEARABLE WORKS OF ART. JEWELS IS AWARE OF THE PHYSICAL & SPIRITUAL ATTRIBUTES OF METAL & SEMI-PRECIOUS STONES, TOOLS AND CHARMS. SHE WILL WORK WITH ANYTHING THAT SHE CAN FIND AS LONG AS IT HAS A GENUINE PATINA, AN IMPRINT OF THE PAST. AMULETS OFTEN GO BEYOND TRADE, HOLDING TRADITIONAL MAGIC FOR PROTECTION, ABUNDANCE, GOOD FORTUNE & HEALTH.
JEWELS DIVIDES HER TIME BETWEEN HER STUDIOS IN SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO AND MARRAKECH, MOROCCO. SHE ALSO TRAVELS TO OTHER PARTS OF THE WORLD SEARCHING FOR AND COLLECTING RARE PIECES AND ARTIFACTS FOR HER JEWELRY DESIGN. SHE HAS BEEN CREATING MASTERPIECES FOR MORE THAN 25 YEARS. HER FOLLOWING IS MORE OF A CULT PHENOMENON; FROM EAST COAST ELITE AND INTELLECTUALS, TO FINE ART COLLECTORS, YOUNG ENTREPRENEURS, HOLLYWOOD FAMILIARS AND INDIVIDUALS WHO SHARE HER PASSION FOR THE BEAUTIFUL, THE RARE AND THE EXTRAORDINARY. SHE FREQUENTLY HOSTS TRUNK SHOWS FOR HER SMALL BOHEMIAN ENTERPRISE AT SWANK HOTELS IN LOS ANGELES, SAN FRANCISCO AND NEW YORK.
top 100 exhibit in 2030 you'll be in it." —Liz
They are my treasures."
your jewels make my heart soar." —Dinah
perfect, as promised!" —Cheryl
They want to touch it!" —Sheila
with their new costumes!" —Annie
I LOVED HIM, JET BLACK FLAMING SHINY FUR, BRIGHT GREEN EYES, WILDNESS STILL ABOUT HIM, A STREET CAT. I FIRST SAW HIM EMERGING FROM A RUINED VILLA THAT I PASS BY ON MY WALKS, OVER SOME MONTHS HE EMERGED, BECAME THE PET OF A NIGHT WATCHMAN WHOSE BEAT WAS ONE HALF BLOCK AWAY. THIS GUARDIAN NAMED HIM MASSAOUD WHICH TRANSLATES FROM ARABIC: CHANCE; WE THOUGHT HE WAS LUCKY. I RETURNED TO THE THE STATES FOR WORK, JUST BACK NOW, IN A HEARTBEAT, HIT BY A CAR, HE IS GONE, I FEEL FROZEN INSIDE. DESTINY, FATE, CONSTELLATION, QUESTIONS UNTO ETERNITY, THE ONLY THING I CAN DISCERN IS NOW NOW NOW, THE MOMENT IS ALL THERE IS, WILL EVER BE, MOVE TO IT WITH JOY AND ABANDONMENT, ABANDONMENT, TILL THE LAST BREATH….
take a driver for the day, in just one hour, we are in the countryside, a Berber village, amazing! their clay/mud houses built into the hillsides are so evocative with hand hewn wood ladders as stairs, sheer simplicity! there are chickens and goats, vegetable gardens and flowers everywhere with well trodden dirt paths to walk into town, this is modest living, can we be any closer to earth than this? what a lovely day of pure escape, we have a local meal all cooked on an outdoor pit, too delicious! skies blue, air fresh, part of me does not want to go back….but then my ambitions, night falls, we make the return to Marrakech, ah oui.
arrive back to Marrakech for the most fabulous event,
the first ever contemporary African art fair, fantastic!
galleries all over town, map provided, hosting different
artists as well as the Mamounia representing galleries
from the continent and Europe, very inspiring,
very energetic, very gorgeous! opening night, electric,
crowds beautiful looking, young, hip Moroccans, the
art work eclectic, original, powerful, everyone uplifted,
flying, how we beg for these distractions now, escape
to art! isn’t it so enveloping and luscious to get outside
of oneself, for a moment, the world, to dream away, to dream—-
how I adore it, colorful lights everywhere, bringing
magic, atmosphere buoyed by dreams and promise,
always inspiriting, sliding, gliding into the next new
year, goals anew, the possibility of rebirth, renewal,
grand! we are all joined by our human needs and
desires, those who can push forth through the morass,
have the best chance, steady on! wishing all and everyone
luck for all times, 2018 is going to resound and trill, tonight,
we have been working on our expanded apartment
since the beginning of the new year, a labor of love,
a study in the extreme of ethnographic materials applied
and interpreted as art, this is our decor, tools,
doors, braziers, tent trappings, study boards, etc.,
they are shining, giving us a warm and alluring environment
to be, to breathe, to spring forth. ….. our first big party
floated well by this creation, I adored the night and all
the energetic/magnetic company that graced us, we must
party on everyone, party on.
nights of staying out till one, parties and fanfare,
outdoor films, photo billboards everywhere, Yves
Saint Laurent lives on! a fashion icon, he was wild,
he was tortured, his collections shaped the era of
women’s freedom. we are happy in Marrakech to
have now a lovely museum that is a little jewel, just
stunning, showcasing his work through an amazing
preservation of his pieces and drawings by long time
lover and collaborator, Pierre Berge. still in a swoon
through all of this, I am magnified at my work bench,
keeping on, thinking of you Yves, keeping on.
"her smooth young skin had the glow of a wild animal, I
shall never be that beautiful again…" , immersed in
Irene Nimirovsky’s work since my return to Marrakech,
a brilliant writer, Russian Jewish woman who tragically
died in Auschwitz before reaching her forties, I am now
looking for everything she wrote, such beauty in language,
her affair with words is mesmerizing, I am in a swoon….
then I saw her, the young girl she describes in "Dimanche",
skin like an angel, perfect almond shaped eyes, exquisite
features, jet black hair, lithe, graceful body, I almost passed
out, am I so lost in fiction now, cannot find the separation, oh
no, reality I am running from you like mad, staying the dream.
Friday is the traditional day to have cous cous in
the home here, and I do so adore it! I am usually
working at the studio on Fridays, the big meal is
served early afternoon, what to do? Fedua, my
new twenty year old young woman who just started
working in the company, still living at home, offers
her mother’s services to prepare for us and have
transported over, cous cous on Friday, I am thrilled!
Scheduled for a 12:30 delivery, 1:00, 1:15, I am
coming apart with hunger and expectancy, where
is the cous cous? Fedua telephones her mother,
it’s in the taxi she exhorts, being accompanied by a ten
year old neighbor, I cried with laughter, the sweetest thing,
so tender, so timeless! finally a knock on the door, wrapped
in special linen cloths, cous cous aplenty, steaming hot,
delicious as it comes. life in the old world, it is wonderful.
my yearly two months in Santa Fe every summer is
always energetic, eclectic, hard working and relaxing,
friends, clients, the outdoors, and oh, garden parties. …..
last nights was pure alchemy, an impetuous congress of
familiars who happened to be in town at the same time, the
axis of the evening being Charlie and Consuelo who had just
gotten married, I offered a champagne toast, then Robin and
Richard flew in for a few days, do join us, Linda and Jane,
in the vicinity, finally Gale who lives in La Paz, going to stop
by. white table cloth, white roses, white lights, the night is
sultry, conversation spirited, other than Robert and myself,
no one knows each other. all seem to be suspended in time,
we go through every ambrosial snack, empty wine bottles
stacking up, nobody wants the night to end. finally everybody
is starting to get cold, Gale jumps up, says he has an idea,
momentarily he returns with an armload of rare Bolivian shawls,
his collection he has brought to the states to sell. he then proceeds
to dress every single person around the table, one cape more
beautiful than the next, it is pure wizardry, we are all instantly joined,
linked through these ancient threads, getting us higher, everyone
is giddy, laughter is maximal! there is nothing so swell as a star
lit night, unplanned, unbounded, measureless, to be measureless….
mountain hiking, lost in fields of wildflowers waist high, I am
delirious in daydream, bees buzzing madly, nature so vibrant
here, Montana. streams, rivers, waterfalls, all with such impulse
and velocity, stuns one, nature in full force. and then there are
cowboys and pinto ponies, talk of grizzlies in the higher regions….
the sky, finally the sky……the biggest yet I have seen, but how can
this be, is it the impression/imprint of the word, language, what the
brain adheres to, one image, one perception, does not let go…..
I will not let go either, no, never of you my love, no.
weeks have gone by, did not write, could not, wrapped
up in work, flying to chosen cities for showings, stressed
to meet deadlines, goals, strains of living in a new America….
I did ok, attained a new skin, new objectives put in place,
then I came home, halfway through Ramadan, a wild scene!
how a whole culture can put itself in the same discipline for
one month each year, is amazing, they do it with stoicism and
joy, determination and difficulty, I think it is so self empowering.
last night it ended, I was in the medina, so fantastic, what
celebration! there were loudspeakers set up everywhere with
big music pouring out, stalls with foods, games and toys, children
running, frenzied, people gathered in groups, warmly, happily,
there was rejoicing, this is life, this is the life here.
awakened to a whirring, a fluttering, a buzzing sound,
humming bird lost, he flies from windowsill to bookshelf,
skylight to the top of the armoire. he rests, he tires, I leave
the front door open, fall back to sleep. he has now come closer
to the bed, he sits on the metal frame, so beautiful, emerald
green, iridescent feathers, the finest, long, pointed beak, I have
never seen one so close up, has he come to bring me a message?
I rise, prepare for the day, he is now on the floor, I capture him
with a handkerchief, take him outside, place him in a protected
garden area, bring water, pray. he must revive and fly away, find
his flock. amazing the bond I can feel to him in the short time
we have had together, grips my heart, the animal kingdom! I return
in an hour, he is gone, I have had a short romance, made the day
magical, sweet, tender, I am wistful, breathless, breath gone, gone.
I always stay at a bed and breakfast inn when I am
here, a family estate dating from 1843, there must
have been acres of land to it in the past, the street
label bears their name too. this morning at the communal
table for breakfast, I had the great pleasure of meeting
Lester Little, a professor at Smith College, a specialist in
religious movements in the European Middle Ages, wild!
it is amazing how one can become so enamored of one
particular subject in one singular period in time and lance
one’s whole life work on it, spins my mind out…. guess I
follow suite, tribal adornment and magic applied through
the ages, ah oui…
just finished reading Patti Smiths latest book, M Train,
how I adore her writing, poetic musings, recordings of
an era, my era, her artists approach to life, her insight,
her susceptibility, wild! amazing the human ties that
bind; Patti, I relate to you, this goes core deep, amazing
the correspondences, shared impulses, even my present
infatuation with Holder and Linden, latest television escape,
yours too…..what rocks ones soul, endless, like air to breathe,
how we need, the running from self, freedom, running, running.
I must be very lucky, I have a sweet penchant
for wildness, crazy things, anything about art, risk,
at the same time, I adore precision, order…..(flexibility
to right side brain and left, very female I think), and so
as I fly out this morning, moving across Europe to catch
a flight to the states, I become robot like, efficient,
I go through security with no resistance or complaint,
delays, long lines, no problem, I am a machine, this is
what I do. I loved George Clooney in his role as master
business traveler in "Up in the Air", there is magic in the
skies, space, it is splendid, watch clouds.
for these last two months my husband and I have been
totally immersed in the joining of our apartment with
the one next door, (which we purchased from the sale
of our house in the medina), thereby creating a more
expansive living space, so great! what is most amazing,
the artisans, with tireless devotion, they crafted/constructed
every single thing that we wanted, astonishingly, they cut stone,
they cut tile, they made me a desk, they fabricated chairs, lanterns,
tables out of old doors, painted and polished, they did it all! I bow
to the workers of the ancient arts and crafts, these laborers with
such heart and soul, what breath in this now crazy world of ours,
"an earnest desire for some type of achievement
and the willingness to strive for its attainment", so
interesting, I have always found this such an elusive
abstraction, what is the measure, what is the standard.
this morning on an early Sunday stroll, a lovely young
man, big smiling, comes bundling down the street pushing
a cart full of melons, first of the season, he is proud, he is
buoyant, what are his hopes and dreams, how far do they
extend, is he ambitious? Simma, a dear old friend from
Goa days, has told me for years that for her, I was the
definition of ambition, I always took this as a huge compliment
though not quite understanding her ardor, not yet. I find
the concept still so fascinating, how far does one go, how
high can one fly, limitless, limitless, soar.
I laughed so hard, my sides hurt, a friend of a friend
came to the apartment for drinks to see the progress
of our expansion, (oh glorious space, we reach out to
you for the creative potential you give), after a little
twirl around, this stranger said in a breathless voice,
my dream is to become a minimalist, so charming! She
went on to elucidate how she had been dreaming of this
for years, amazing what a landscape of desire, of longing
and thirst might look like, on the inside, on the outside,
it takes sustained industry, unrelenting, unrelenting, flying.
having become infatuated some years ago with
the old French villas in Gueliz, i have been tramping
the streets here in search of these classic beauties
ever since, lives lived, times past, so intriguing. once
I was let in by an aging guardian to a family home where
it appeared to be they had left quickly, everything was
still in place, every room and furnishings, frozen in a 1950ies
time warp, stilled my soul, where do people go…. last year
I found the foreigners cemetery, many are here, it is beautiful!
such interesting graves and headstones, crumbling shrines,
decaying adornments, angels with broken wings, I don’t care,
I like this place. yesterday at lunch with my friend Marc, over
dessert he mentioned that he was just now getting a plot there,
very few are left, what to do, must be a resident to apply, where
does one choose to die, or not, take the last breath of this wonderful
reminds me of a song, a song it is not, another villa
is being destroyed in Gueliz, from the French protectorate
period, early 1940ies, a little beauty, the wrecking ball does
not miss, it is coming down. a fine film from crumbling plaster
covers everything, giving a ghost like appearance…..I am thinking
of the ghosts of the lives lived within these now broken walls,
what happens to the imprint, the memory, I am lost, where to
find a message, a name, a letter. heart breaks a little bit, I am
sorry I could not save you, could not shout loud enough for them
to stop, could not do anything…. may the gods shape a thunder
clap when the last piece of dirt is taken away, a howling to the
universe, a howling for all time.j
the last ten days have been action of a high velocity, moving
into a new studio, a new configuration /composition, with
new paint, new drawers, new lights, a new puzzle to abbreviate,
new language in a new space, a new girl. much detailing with
of course, fabulous Moroccan artisans, it is done, is beautiful,
back to the drawing board, new work, happy. then I wonder,
where is the moment to reflect, I go to my new petit balcony
and think, if one has no time to resound, to take in an experience,
then there is no real imprint, integration, no authority. 2017, may
this be the year of coming awake, awake.
returning to Marrakech for a few months, having
sold the house in the medina, I was lucky to arrive
back here and with some great scouts, able to
secure a new studio, a five minute walk from our
apartment, amazing, counting my lucky stars, really.
lovely space, light and airy, big view, balcony. needing
more helpers, Bouchra is referred to me by a dynamic
new Moroccan acquaintance, Badour, whose mission in
life is to help disadvantaged women get into the workforce.
I was a little apprehensive, but the moment I opened the
door, a treasure arrived, very pretty with a broad smile,
a determination to be independent, she can sew like crazy!
from the age of two, something went wrong with one of her
legs, but this hasn’t stopped her. I had her start working right
away, that evening, as we were all leaving, (she had taken up
some crutches for the street), I asked in which direction she
was going, she pointed towards Bab Dukala, said she must get
some exercise, will walk a few blocks first before she catches a
bus to her home, my heart fluttered, we are all one family, how
could I ever bellyache again, Bouchra, you are a light.
theirs was a love story, one of those magical alliances,
two people in high dance, perfect complement to each
other, it was something dreamy. they had an international
life, were in humanitarian service, never had any children.
early on they had made a pact, when they got too old, they
would take a fantastic journey somewhere and with a poison
elixir, they would slip away, together….. very unexpectedly,
he died in an instant, she felt dispossessed, her heart torn
out, their plan stolen, she was bereaved…. after much meticulous
detailing of their fortune to favored philanthropies, etc., she decides
to keep with their long term arrangement, checks into one of the
most fabulous hotels on earth, she goes out…. I say, way to go,
another day in the kingdom, xo
how many hours/days to travel back, get back to
North Africa, how many time zones, countries, cities
and waters, flown over, dreamed over, to get back home,
don’t know, an invisible film seems to have interfused my
mind and body, eyes, all fog now, will sleep on clouds till
I can get clear, start a new week, Monday, I hope. the reality
is, the house in the medina is gone, I am in transition, need
a new work place, a new showroom, a new invention of
myself here…. shedding one’s skin, how many times, how
how many layers to peel back, till the end, may my heart
be filled, joy joy joy.
we have come to the Bay Area now, twenty years being
part of a tribal show/nation, how we do love this eccentric
band of travelers/dealers, who have dedicated their lives to
the procurement of beauty in ethnic cultures, living the dream,
being free, running around the world….I have had the good fortune
to be invited every time to a dear friends fabulous home that
looks out upon stunning terraced gardens, flower beds, and
trees, trees, trees, a visual sensation, it soothes/sedates. the
desert landscapes that I come from, esoteric, existential, moves
the mind out, away, different. I love everyplace and everything,
life for art, life for art, life for art.
the year of the Fire Rooster, it is the Chinese New Year,
Robert and I attend a party on our second night back,
our hosts, world travelers – enlightenment seekers- have
planned a ritual to top off the evening, excitement builds."….
nearing midnight, everyone is given a pen and a piece of paper,
told to write down whatever they want to leave behind in the
old year, not to carry over into the new year, this is fantastic,
brilliant, what an objective! after some reflective time for all,
a line is formed and one by one we pass in front the fireplace
with it’s roaring flame, toss in our resolves, poof, set free, we
have a different walk now, swagger…. goals for the new year are
always so powerful, looking forward with keen prospect to a bright,
shining, oh, this blessed air we breathe….
red head and yellow back, he preens, bops, caws,
is raucous, attracting a "she" bird, they fly circles
around each other, this is my morning attention, as
breakfast is served under a palm frond. south Indian food,
yummy, I have gone native any more, goodbye to eggs
and toast, coconut rice and spicy beans, subtle savor
here, I am finding my center, all this way around the
world, in languid form now, calm descend, I am feeling
renewed. to lay oneself down, to shed the extraneous,
to come closer in, this is to travel. .. now on the last
days by this Arabian Sea, white glistening sands and
orange sunsets, must keep vivid within, gives lift, how
to say goodbye, the birds..
in the car again, leaving the desert behind, Ganesh on
the dashboard keeping us all safe, the hours are twirling
and spinning, sleeping, wake up, everything has changed,
we have now arrived to an orange sun, we have arrived
to the tropics. it is lush, it is slow, locals amble, whistle,
goats bleat sweetly, crows crow, dogs lie, I fall into the
beat, easily, no sweat. walking for hours, the architectural
style so different, simple, two story structures with curious
slanted roofs and exterior stairways, charming wooden
balconies and many glass encased saints, the oldest church
and synagogue in all of India to be found here, Jain temples
too, the choice of religion is yours, is yours, is yours.
Udaipur, land of lakes where Maharajahs and their
Queens ruled, setting back the clock we are, with
ceilings reaching heavenwards, pillars, worn marble floors
to run barefoot on and dream, grounds as far as you can
see, carved wooden doors, centuries old, paintings, velvet,
yes, we are happy to let our minds fall back, to imagine
the life, now ours for a brief view, catching breath…
the day’s drive to get here we stopped on the way at the
ghats in Puskar, bands of Rajasthani women dressed in
their finery, the jewelry out of this world, taking blessings
from holy waters, they were a true vision, vibrant and
absolutely ethnic, fading tribes…. decorated cows were stopping
traffic, monkeys and dogs in the melee, sweat and color, children,
rushing, the crowds, intoxicate, lost for a few hours, oh India,
you have a bright hold still, we bend to you.
Nandita, a lovely woman and the only contact we have
in Mumbai, refers my husband to a Dr. Darius Sonawala,
after waking up to extreme pain in his back yesterday
morning. we secure an afternoon appointment. a crazy
route to find his obscure location with a happy driver who
speaks no English..".. laughs a mile, traffic insane, we arrive
on the dot, of course. tiny waiting room, standing room only….
pleasant exchanges with now new friends, a Stanford graduate,
artist representative, business man, students, housewives,
chattering! our time slot reaches, and what a being stands
before us, a Gandhi like presence, he emanates compassion
and sensibility, tenderness, a life given to service. Robert
takes his counsel, I thank him, we both float away, just being
near him has lifted us up, up is to what we aspire, is a national
goal here, this return to India has rocked my soul, has rocked,
I have returned to a wild stretch of time of my youth, Bombay,
Mumbai now, memories running wide, I am in euphoria,
tingling, electric charge body, is floating, I am heady
beyond anything I could have imagined, never want to
leave .".. I walk the streets of my old haunts, centuries old
banyan trees ravaging the sidewalks, 19th century mansions
of such former splendor, oh gorgeous dilapidation, I am
transported to another epoch, why do I always want to go
back…. I find my old best silver dealer, in his eighties now,
we recall the life in those days, freedom, how we thought that
was how the world was…. this morning’s news, New Year’s Eve
on high alert for possible terrorist activity, it is another edge,
how many sides can a sword have, how slippery can it be, we
must dance the night away, as 2017 breaks , shout shout shout!
how can it be, time is going too fast, the infinite
bliss of now is no where to be found, I race at a
dizzying speed, arriving to where, is this the life,
feels like limbo to me. everyday I am dreaming of new
words and of finding a way to uncovering the depths,
just now to realize I have not written in seven weeks…
solitude, that must be what I lack, but please don’t lock
me up, ha, let freedom ring for one and all, may we all
reach our potentials and ultimate glory, a new year is
coming, brave new world, oh.
this ancient port town on the Atlantic is exotic and
wild, the ocean air gives new breath, I take in draughts,
floating away on the balm and salt scent, I am transported
to a more essential self, it is wonderful! sea gulls en masse,
dominate the skies, which is clear blue, they are raucous and
winsome, this is a harbor town. my dearest husband arranges
a long weekend for us here every year for my birthday, we now
have a hotel we adore, have found some dealers we like, etc.
always so great to get away from the everyday, to have some
time away, time to dream, time to be, time.
I watch him as he gingerly makes his way along
a narrow neighborhood street, with many twists
and turns, he does it perfectly, gently, with what
looks like angelic movements. does he have every
step memorized, all patterned in his brain, I wonder,
he is a miracle, I think! it is amazing what one can
do on any stage, whatever one is given in this life,
one can take it to the highest mountain top, sheer
force of will is a powerful thing, dream big, dream
often, keep to the forward course…
plastic bags have been banned in the kingdom, it
is wonderful! nice craft paper is now given to weigh
in your fruits and vegetables, at check out you can
buy a recycled woven tote, everyone already carrying
their own in. after years of study, plastic has been
found, never to dissolve, clogs up drains and water
sources for animals and humans, lands in fields to
harm plants and irrigation, is toxic if burned, looks ugly
on the highway, must be handled with care. every little
advancement for our planet is a good thing, oh yes.
Robert gave me the word a few days ago, it is time
to shift to the winter quarters, summer is over, how
can it be? to withdraw from this sweet dream, pains me,
reaches back to my childhood, always having to leave
what were roots, for whatever short a time it was…
somehow the breath is taken out of me, feet are leaden,
my few possessions in a basket, shut the door, step out
for a new tomorrow….. I step out-
this has made my heart pulse, for the first time in Olympic history,
there is a refugee class, and they are amazing! to think what
these people have had to brave, having fled their birth countries
in pursuit of their dreams, and now they have become their own
culture, this is astonishing! Yasra Mardini, who with her sister,
swam three hours pushing a sinking boat saved twenty other
refugees in the Aegean Sea, (nobody else on the boat knew how
to swim), and now Yasra is swimming in the Olympics, this is
magic! may the world open its heart to the courage and soul of
these people, they are giving a glow to the heavens and earth,
they are glowing-
to have a quiet morning, upright in bed, looking out
into the garden fresh from night rains, cat dancing
with leaves, Robert has brought me a coffee, so sweet,
I am musing and reading the New York Times, swell
easy schedule for this day, is this not heaven? to let the
roar level out a bit, to dream, do design work in the mind,
plan new years in Mumbai, I am ecstatic! just finished
reading an article on Yuko Takamatsu who won’t stop
looking for his wife, five years after the tsunami in Japan,
I am infatuated with this story, how one can have such crazy
love, is beyond dazzling, fascinates, this is heart news, heart.
return to the US on the day of a protest in Dallas,
five cops killed, is terrible, this in retaliation to the
136 blacks killed already this year by uniformed police
officers. seems so extreme, so strange all these years
later there is still so much racism in this country, but with
all this latest and this new movement, hope is certainly
ablaze. "black lives matter", this is a song to the heart,
a unifying trend, "we shall overcome", this is a rocking
back to the 1960ies, oh yes.
Ramadan night at Maryam’s, can’t get the projector to work
for the Documentary Film Club, we all jump into the pool instead,
felt like a lake, water like velvet.
Ramadan, everything looks different now in the medina, half the
shops are closed, more difficult to find ones way, there is a feeling
of a void….
Ramadan evenings, energy electric, there is excitement in the air,
another day of fasting has come to an end, everyone is whirling,
a shared ritual, I think it gives one a great sense of accomplishment
I am so lucky to be an observer of the life here with so much turmoil
in the Arab world, our world, so crazy/critical now. must keep looking
at the good, putting in the good, dreaming big hope for a future.
exulting at the drawing board, so much spinning
between my head and my fingers, how to keep up,
it is a blazing path; any path can take one to literacy
and revelation of self, there is nothing higher or equal
to this, must stay on, break through, how can I feel so
unfastened on this so sunny day…
sunlight is ricocheting in, bright morning, this Victorian
house that had known one family, generations passing
through, how did they love life, what did they perceive,
what happiness did they find; was their last day an
illumination? the wooden floors creak, innumerable
rooms each with their own shape and charm, secret
passageways where I can imagine children once playing,
dogs and cats. I stare at old photographs that cover
the walls, I am transported back to another time, their
time, passage of time, whose time is it now?
last night at the Montague’s, who are living their dream
in an olive grove a little ways outside of Marrakech, we
watched, under a roof of stars, against a ruined wall,
"Iris". style icon, entrepreneur, muse. a fashion
leader, her collection of classic couturier clothes now
being archived for the Met, story goes on forever….
most of all it was her relationship with herself that was
so inspiring, her detachment from her age, her energy
and thirst, discovered in her eighties, wild…. gives
me hope, oh yes, hope hope.
there is so much suggestion every where I look, so much
charm, why am I not translating into language, to realize
more essence and profundity? how to capture the image
of a Berber woman making early morning crepes at her little
street stand, gold capped teeth flashing with a smile as big
as a world, the simplicity of it is so reassuring somehow, the
beat of life the same as before, the same as before…. the
beauty of the ancient lands among the unwashed and disorder,
everywhere to find a rose.
as I glide through the medina in the morning on my
way to the studio, I marvel at the acrobatics of each
merchant, how one woman with Berber facial tattoos
stacks her tomatoes in perfect symmetry, framing them
with carrots, next to her a man in a fabulous rough hand
woven garment, sings to the crowds in some village dialect,
arranging and rearranging his lemons, while across from
him a young boy sits under a makeshift tent with various
green vegetables, a cat in his lap….. the old fashioned
scales, the bartering, the colorful crowd, all so timeless,
so real, makes me feel kinship, makes me feel.
larger than life, exuding passion, a fervor of emotion
and affection, like a ball of flame, she flies into our
little party, laughter big enough to shake the world,
exclaiming that she had seen foreigners last night in
her dream, and there we appeared. we are having
lunch with neighbors, we share one common wall,
a very sweet family we have known from the beginning
of our time in the medina, (13 years now, how can this
be), the mother now is 96, pure Berber, facial
skin like roses, we enlarge the circle, the simple life, ah
to wake up to news of more terrorist attacks, a
whole city under lock down, this freezes the blood,
is searing, where can we take our dreams now, where
can we be, be free, all the world under mental siege,
must find a way out of this madness, keep singing,
learn how to walk the high wire, run…
I am only a vibration, a note twanging on your guitar… a still
memory in the universe, maybe. beautiful pink and white roses
in their terra cotta pot, match the color of the balcony, with this
little bit of cold/spring weather, they will last longer, who will
last longest of all of us, I wonder….. happily returned to our
little apartment in Marrakech, I am thrilled to have a morning
to gaze out into the distance and ruminate, muse over the now
and imagine tomorrow’s potential; latest insight: your expectations
lead to your result, tough!
brightest full moon, this dazzling clear sky tonight makes
me pause and shake, it reaches deep, I cannot stop thinking
about Leila Alaoui, her young life cut short, so short, what
brilliance she showed, what promise, her hauntingly beautiful
photographs, cultural gems for her country, Morocco. now
she is gone, what machinations of the universe put her in a
cafe at the precise moment of a random terrorist attack, is it
really all just about chance and luck, accidental destiny; much
to ponder this night, long night.
stopping over for a few days in Madrid on the way back to
the states, it is cold but the sky is stunningly blue, so I am
happy; Europe, always a tenderness for me, brings memories
of youth, so sweet, like candy now…. I go to get cash out of
an ATM, just a few feet away, atop a flattened piece of cardboard,
is a man, kneeling, his tin bowl shaking slightly in his frosty raised
hands, this posture touches me profoundly, is this extreme Catholicism,
this prayer position? he has a gentle, modest countenance;
one’s circumstances seem so capricious in these times, life is
so tenuous, at best, like a gossamer river, ebbs and flows, flows-
we had the good fortune to meet a fabulous couple at a
dinner party recently, two wonderful souls who started a
donkey and mule sanctuary some years ago on a property
outside of Marrakech that is just stunning! a dream house,
which they live in, is surrounded by glorious gardens, with
the stables and paddocks in the eye’s view, (all which
they built), beautiful! these rescued animals, having
served their whole life, are given their last years in pure leisure. the
stories are mostly heartbreaking, but there is much hope, the whole
operation is inspiring, embracing the local community, it is all
about education and understanding. Sue and Charles vision
is profound, it is people like this who really give the
meaning to heart, makes the world go round, and round and…
a new year to dream on now, restless, cannot sleep, it is
Sunday, I must settle on all new plans and directions, so
much is budding, will assemble an order, a way in which
to soar, fly, leap over, break through any remaining barriers
to reach the panacea, the elixir of loftiest desire & imagination….
I feel exalted in this animated, stirred potential, being in these
ancient lands gives another edge, makes me feel like the luckiest
girl in the world, oh yes.
unusual, we chose to come back for Christmas holidays
this year, needed to complete a few projects, and we love
our little apartment. many invitations, a time to celebrate,
and what gifts we have received, multiple bottles of handmade
olive oils, each one absolutely fabulous, powerful, raw, strong.
everyone here who has any land or tiny part thereof, produces
their own oil, North Africa rocks! I was armed with organic dark
chocolates from the states, everyone was happy with me too.
she is a new American friend, living in Morocco thirteen
years, married to a boy from the south, spent her first two
years in a village there, now in Marrakech, she says he is her
soul mate. this is such an abstraction to me, what is it, what
does it mean? I want to understand, is it real, does it exist
or is it all make believe, spawned in a romantic ledger, a need,
like air to breathe……
they dress up the buildings for Christmas, thirty story
high structures are wrapped in light, they blink, they
shine, they look like packages. high up on Nob Hill,
a clear night, I can drift beyond this photograph, yes
I can, I can float on this sea of stars….
the world now so fragmented/ fragile, we must stay awake,
must keep on, can never give up, not hide, born to be free,
born to be.
the last days so wild and full, dizzying, rocket ship
flying, exulting, every single simple task revealing its
charm. a friend of mine, a fellow traveler, once told me,
the first and last days of a trip are always the most profound,
leaving the biggest memory imprint. and so it is, everything
looks very rosy and sweet, I am lifting up! it has been such
an inspiring time, productive time, the affection of friends
heart pulsing. now boarding the plane for Spain, dreams are
riding high, they are rushing, high.
I could see oceans and depths, pain and want,
suffering, desire, shared human emotions, a soul,
yearning. taking my morning taxi to the medina,
it started to rain quite wildly, when I exited the cab
there he was, selling umbrellas, his eyes…. I would
have given him anything, he was so pure of being,
trying so hard to make a living, how could I ask him
how much, I gave him all that I had. something
searing in that moment’s exchange, I want never to
forget his eyes, they were the eyes of soul, they were
the eyes of mine, soul.
this is the day that was assigned for my mother to birth
me, so many years ago….. I was lucky, she was Italian,
children were life, this is what brought happiness. it was
a great childhood, warm and adventuresome, living abroad,
traveling many countries, encountering different peoples and
culture, architecture; ways of being, so many, I was charmed
by everything, it was truly dreamy. still carrying it all with me, I thank
my lucky stars for my dearest parents and the life given. today
I will reflect, tonight let the party rip, oh yes!
thirteen years ago, my friend Polly and I, rented a car, and
travelled some southern regions here, a week of hilarity
and frivolity, girl fun! on the final stretch back to Marrakech,
we spot some rugs hanging from clothes lines, swaying in
the wind, a roadside stand, we stop; it was like entering a
twilight zone…. the couple who were selling the rugs, just at
that moment, were desperate to raise funds, in the throes of
constructing a cafe, monies were due, lenders were at the door,
Addi had just told Amina, his wife, let us wait just a little bit
longer before we have to ask the father-in-law to borrow again,
therein we appear! the rugs are tribal and terrific, we take them
all down, start the dance. tea and sweets are produced as we
consider each one, walk and roll in them, laughter and banter.
sunset, will we stay for dinner, kids are back from school, preparations
begin for the best tagine in memory. it was one of those sweetest,
free spirited times that come in life, pure charm. we end up with
five rugs between us, leave in the dark. since then, Addi and
Amina, have done very well. with new constructed highway, their
cafe is at a perfect intersection, inland to coast. whenever I am
traversing this area, I stop in. we just did do, returning from Essouria,
the warmth and tears always sweep the soul, make the heart skip
a beat, sweep the soul.
old songs make heart skip a beat, "now that I have lost
everything to you, you say you want to start something
new, oh baby, it’s a wild world,….." how entwined I find
my life here, going back to the 70ies in Tangier, ah… now
in Essouria with my darling husband, for my birthday, and
it is glorious, weather divine, the hotel where we are staying,
just inside the ramparts, dressing up dreams; ocean glistening
in the distance, seagulls noisily cruising blue skies, I am taking
in draughts of the salt air, I think this morning on the balcony
is where it’s at, making life a holiday, is where it’s at…
Sunday morning, cannot move, shall I spend the whole day in bed
reading my latest found treasure, The Lovers of Algeria, a
novel by Anouar Benmalek? I want to savor it slowly, a love
story to tear the heart apart, to float away on…..
last night was spent at Chris and Maryam’s, their constructed
dream in the countryside, spectacular in every way, their
graciousness beyond measure. it was "documentary night"
at their outdoor theatre, headed up was: "Giro dreams Sushi",
wild and funny, it was about passion, dedication, life as an
art form. it sang to me, I know about infatuation with one’s work,
know what it is to have every beat of the heart for beauty and
art, for beauty and art.
I awake from a drug like sleep, how long was I moving
through other worlds, worlds in my head, surfacing all
these hours later to a bright morning, to a holiday here,
taking the day off, will keep in step. ten days now returned
to the ancient lands, a thousand things have transpired,
I am feeling ebullient, soaring, beads are flying everywhere,
I am flying too. the biggest reach is within, the greatest
potential to find there, the largest fertile plain. I have now
torn up the last remaining room in the studio here, a work
table has been commissioned, and soon a new industrial
sewing machine will be purchased, ever seeking, I am dreaming
every minute is a vast world, stretching unto infinity… I am
galloping fast, trying to swill all sights and sounds, to reach
the depth, the gradation, essence of. time is fleeting, flying,
perception leads to literacy of being, does it not? how else
to find the trail home; it’s a long road, it winds and curves,
we have come to Ketchum, high mountain town, Idaho. this
is where Hemingway spent his last years. dramatic scenery is
breathtaking, the air sweet & robust, the sky clear blue. it is a
lovely refuge from the world, population 5000, i don’t know
what it was when he lived here, much less. he took his life in
Ketchum, his head too full of noise and black thunder, he broke
many hearts, shocked/shook the literary world. writing, writing,
writing, where was his salvation? life is so astonishing, we are
all floating on our dreams, buoyed by whatever we can create
in our minds, each step as fragile as the next. life is so astonishing,
each breathe a song to ancient memory, to the gods, to revelation,
pacing myself on my short time here, enjoying my routine,
mornings with Daisy, reading, ruminating, thinking about
life; catch cab to the medina. spend the days creating order
in the studio, conceiving design, working with girls, dealing
with traders, filling the store, walk back to Gueliz. some evenings
out with friends. last night spent with Patricia, who so graciously
assisted in the owl rescue. we waxed on about that, such a lovely
story. she has now spotted them a few times, so exciting! I inquired
about her other pets, two dogs, one donkey, three cats, one turtle. she
laughingly related how every morning the cats and dogs are all in the
kitchen, hovering around the refrigerator, and even the turtle who has
some distance to go and has climbing to do, he is there with his head
stretched out and bobbing, waiting for his bit of cooled lettuce. I found
this so absolutely charming, in fact totally wild, it’s a world of wonder,
my first evening out here at a friend’s gorgeous Riad, she
excitedly tells me she recently acquired some pets, three
turtles, how sweet but not too exciting, I thought.. Alexandra
has ground floor space, with courtyard, about 300 hundred
square meters, beautiful. her bedroom opens onto the courtyard,
there is a fountain, dipping pool, trees, all very enchanting. the other
day she could not find the turtles, she calls Fatima, her cook,
to help search for them, nowhere to be found, she is perplexed.
finally looking in her closet for the tenth time, she sees them all
lined up with her shoes, like camouflage, barely discernible, they
were in perfect formation. some things in life just can’t be made
up, finding the magic, oui oui!
I have been in the states five weeks, written nothing, in cement,
wrapped in overload manic, when to breathe, frenzied, is a block.
now in my gorgeous rooms at the Mark Hopkins, I am having a
minute, for myself, maybe…. hotels, this is where I find flight from
routine, distance from everyday toils, mind-free-space, I adore much!
recently someone from the internationalists that I run with, died at the
Imperial, in New Delhi, it was an illuminating moment when I heard the
news, what a stunning place to end a life, one of the world’s great hotels,
grand, vestige of a colonial past, with classical architecture, high ceilings,
luxurious windows, shiny marble floors, immense grounds and gardens; Nehru
held peace talks here, oh the life, how many ways it can be lived, how
many ways it can be guzzled, still walking on the wild side, yes yes.
he feels his way along on a busy Marrakech street,
he has a calm amid this chaos, a serenity, how is this
possible? his vacant eyes seem to contain a perception
of infinity, of self, he seems to be, desire free. to be like him,
is this not what we were seeking, those of us who set out on
the road, how many years ago, India and Kathmandu, taking
Bob Dylan with us, and Hesse and Huxley and everything
Leary was handing out…. so where have we gotten to now,
the dreams of lofty peaks and inner peace; the dreams of,
still walking there….
it has been a very wild few weeks, with spontaneously taking
a little boutique in this artisanal center, having it painted,
wifi & telephone put in, lighting revamped, vitrines built, the finding
of a fabulous mid century Spanish wooden trunk now to serve
as desk with great surface area to write orders and wrap jewelry,
business cards and invoices designed, produced, a small collection
of old North African photographs framed & hung as wall art, an old
door I had been wanting in the souk, purchased then mounted for
ambiance, a vintage stool found at the flea market, looks great, a chair
loaned from Artsi, perfect, and finally a lovely young Moroccan woman
in training to the product, beautiful and smiling. small space, help from
friends, local talent and my darling husband, all made this possible and
joyful in this lightening bolt time, I am grateful to all of you. Wednesday,
we will have a little good luck opening, in lieu of champagne, it will be
traditional, dates and milk, very excited!
on the occasion of my husband’s birthday, we have
come away for a long weekend to the capital city of
Morocco. we love it! classic wide boulevards with
giant palms, stunning mid century architecture, all
white, balmy sea airs, the King’s museum, great gardens,
embassy row. we are walking, walking everywhere. on
one street corner, blind men are lined up, all selling little
pacquets of tissues, what gentleness, I fill my bag. encounters
with the unknown, this is the beauty of travel! basic level
communication, this is where we find our humanity, our
connectedness! it’s all so thrilling, I am feeling very grateful
for the life I have been able to live, for the life, for.
it all seems so, every second of every day. "your day
is your life", we must pay attention! here everything is
so colorful and bright, one is swept away, just on a song…
I met ArtC in the fall and took a big tumble. so talented,
so present, so gorgeous, so wild! he and his boyfriend, Paco,
a brilliant leather designer, show their work in a very cool
artist center, little stalls, so darling, conceived of by an
entrepreneurial Frenchman here. ArtC insisted I take one,
said I needed to be in the world more; and so I did and I do.
tomorrow, April 1, I get the keys, Happy Birthday Ali! xo
having a little difficulty putting anything on paper lately,
thinking about too many things at once. tapping into one’s
potential, to reach the dream, this is huge, seems so limitless,
where to take hold? depths are vast and daunting, so many
possibilities, just go, do! the time is now to move forward,
time to soar, to fly, leap over, attain, be….. so I will continue on
my path here, feet not quite touching the ground, grateful for all
things, the air to breathe, the roses my husband brings, ah,
feel so blessed, to live in foreign lands part of the year,
Marrakech so vibrant, so rich in color and emotion, so
wild! I have such a wealth of Moroccan friends, just
wonderful, to feel so unconditionally cared for, makes
me tingle. the ex-pat crowd also very interesting, a sweet
social life, unfolds by the week. tomorrow we are all going
to Dennis’ house for a yoga stretch on the lawn led by a
young and beautiful Moroccan woman, followed by an Indian
lunch delivered in tiffin boxes, and on and on……could I be
what a whirl, a pirouette, a dance back to the
Marrakech meter, it smolders, it sings, I am
flying high; soaring within, the potential for
anything, it is here! I want to make a million
things, experiment with a thousand materials,
follow imagination’s wild path, jump up with
joyous abandon, be free. I have redone, in
the first two weeks here, the studio, it is now
perfectly aligned for much creative possibility,
for magic! have found some fabulous amulets
already; met a young English girl the other day
who is experimenting with very interesting colors
for leather, then came upon some photography
of a local Moroccan who had great skill, etc., etc.
now to go to work, never want to leave…
I had not returned to the house since Jacques had
died in Paris, now deep ground, turning into dust…..
uncontrolled tears streamed as I was let in, Sergio
gave a warm smile, said not to worry, Jacques was
still all around, it was a year now, Christmas had been
tough…..I wanted to know if he was visited in his dreams,
I wanted to know of anything that he may have perceived
of death, of anything at all that might have made it clearer,
of what it was, the final exit…
return to the ancient lands, it is beautiful, amazing
how I am excited every time. clear blue skies I want
to drink in, the air with a bit of cold, and atmosphere,
that is it, what I adhere to, the magic. the first cab I
catch, the driver sings quietly the whole way, so tender,
when I step out, walking on clouds. feeling so euphoric
with this new year, 2015 I bow to you, may the stretch
and reach of your newness bring forth all that is burning
inside; may it be so, the breath to keep up. dreams
very blue, coming back to this "real existence", how can
it be, not a poem now, there is snow at the door, dishes
in the sink, a mountain high of correspondence…
one day later and promptly I am rising again, taking my own
lead, not bemoaning fate, too much….
must prepare forthwith for the Tribal Show in San Francisco,
the most fabulous collection yet to be; that I may fly away again,
forever restless, forever reverie..
tearing ourselves away after this month out, feeling
tragic…. Hotel Geneve, Robert’s latest find, proved
to be a real gem, classic in spades. built in 1907,
it was palatial, with grounds, then set apart, dirt
roads, horse and buggy carriages, a roaring city
at it’s perimeters… heads of state, presidents,
movie stars, everyone stayed here. what is preserved
now, well worn stone stairs leading into a fabulous
lobby with a stories high library, all books leather bound,
polished brass ladders, historic paintings, smoking room
and bar with red velvet chaises. cigar smoke lingers in
these rafters…this is atmosphere! dream back, turn the
clock back, I want to go back..
Frida Kahlo’s spirit lives on in this bright city, the modern
art and architecture, so unexampled, transformational, wild!
the young people in streams, some extremes, exotic tattoos,
long dread lock hair wrapped many times around to form what
appears to be haloes, I love it, non conforming youth, the world
is theirs now, was mine, was a dream too. I feel lucky to have
spent much of my life in foreign places, it keeps me clear; I
understand, we are what, it’s like trying to memorize the wind….
how I love walking these foreign streets, just when it is
turning night, the pulse, is excitement. try to remember
where i was the last time, now it is five years, every minute that is lived,
is where, is lost or part of the skin, getting thick now….tomorrow
will go to Frida Kahlo’s house where I have never been,
she was someone I could look up to, always going against
the stream, lived life as art, was art, ate art.
Paris under siege, radicalism, this is not religion, this is
disenfranchisement, isolation, anger, unrealized existences,
smallness, terror. how to find a way to connectedness,
openness, human family unite…. it’s all very troublesome…
in Mexico City now, out of the wild, into the world, population:
25 million, impact immense, jump into the fray, take your place,
they fly in almost perfect formation, take over the
sky. they look like mechanical kites, sleek and trim,
commissioned, destination unknown. in Columbus’s
time, they were symbols of good luck, with their sightings,
land was near. in the last days here, trying to lengthen
each hour, this unbelievable jungle teak house we are
staying in, dismantled in Bali, put back together here
in Sayulita, is so perfect for the setting, so evocative, so
hard to leave…. we are now thinking of unplugging the
phones and hope the owners, our friends, decide never
to come back….
early morning rise, birds waken us nosily, some distress
in their kingdom, it is wild, amazing this jungle delivery!
I am relaxed, it is heavenly. nothing to do, read and write,
get to the beach. flocks of pelicans at racing speeds, block
the sun, waters are clear, sand is all sand, is universe tied.
to walk every beach of the world, that could be a new mark,
just wondering now how I will leave here or ever…..
feeling ecstatic, joyful, a new year is being heralded
in, all hopes and dreams at the front again, another
birthing. dancing, twirling, flying within, the possibilities
of advancement and achievement are dizzying, head
spinning out, horizon endless now. the sign I had been
seeking, I gave to myself, why not? it is I who must
lead my quest, follow its brilliance. I hereby entreat to the
gods, may the way wide open, may light vision stream
down, may the world sing/shout, I am awake again!
I am transported back to my 20ies when I tried to develop
a farm in Colombia, Macoa, a remote outpost that was
frontier like, foreign. jungles are contained, dark, people
extremely clannish, tribal, wild! what a dream I had, what
youth, what an undoing…. waking now to dawn here, the
bird calls are exotic, curious, not recognizable, crickets, crickets,
thick green. I am happy to be away from the world, this last day
of 2014… how many hours left for the sign?
she twirls, she floats, she laughs through her body,
this is her night! after the services in the Gaudi looking,
dripping with pink frosting, 18th century church, she is
ecstatic, she is a queen. descending to the plaza, a bright
crowd forms around her and the groom, they are the
center of the universe now. her dress, the perfect flowing
white satin, flowers at her breast, in her hair, she stuns everyone
as they dance together, as one. classic Mexican wedding music is
being belted out by a small band, happiness and mirth are in the air!
lucky us to happen upon this scene, walking home this last
evening in San Miguel, dreaming on…
so many here seem to have a guitar hanging off their
shoulder, like what I can imagine of old Mexico. they
come to play for you everywhere, it is a way of life,
a way to make ends meet. most are singing about
love, yearned for or lost. it sears the heart, makes
one want to weep, or sing! these tender ties of humanity,
we are all bound by a single thread it does seem…..
spend the day with my dearest and oldest friend, Alexa,
who has lived here thirty years: she imagined a life, it now
looks like a dream, so swell! classic Spanish hacienda
with grand inner courtyard, covered walkways, ponds,
pools, gardens and a stable full of horses, dogs & cats,
I swoon. Eugenio, her equine veterinarian husband, has
such a way with the animals, they bend to him when he
walks by, he has a grace, must have alchemy in his fingertips,
must be a wizard. I leave uplifted, but wistful, paths not taken,
paths undone; I am undone, ah oui.
waking from a drug like sleep, it seems that only when I am
away that I get such rest. wonderful, gorgeous day, roof top
life, colorful painted houses, it is Mexico! cobble stone streets,
old doors, endless churches, little fountains, historic cemeteries,
beautiful gardens and cooing doves that always transport me back
to India and other foreign places that I can’t remember right now….
I am soaring, big sky and sweet exotic sun, this is my bliss, for me,
this is everything.
the landscape is blanketed in snow, it is beautiful, trees with
thick white frosting, boughs heavy with this new weight, it is
other worldly like, other worldly. upstate New York, holiday time,
a sweet time. tomorrow is Thanksgiving, reflection on the year
past, to give thanks, to cradle grace and all our good fortunes.
America is the land of the free, still the hope of the world, even
with all the thrashing and ruptures, sorrows and injustices, its
heart beats for the deliverance of the human spirit, liberty, and
justice for all, and for all, may all glorious be.
brilliant fall leaves, rich reds and yellows, are flying everywhere,
dancing, the sound is like a gentle click clack, is melodic. I
must keep walking, snow or hail, body craves movement. the
mind, what does it want, clarity, vision, getting over the mountain,
somehow I think i have found the thread, a thread, a way to get
through, being with these Harvard types seems like anything is
possible, ah oui, dreaming big and large now, ah oui.
waiting for a sign, something to show the way, to prove that it
can be done, that I can do it, there is nothing. I live in such a
world of abstraction, what does this mean, can’t get out of my head,
where is truth? I go to see the Villa, it is a crumbling beauty, a true
Bauhaus, circa 1930, also known as international style, it is marked
by the absence of ornamentation, with no distinction between
form and function, pure proportion, I love it madly. it waits to
come back to life, I must work night and day, to save it, how?
today, my last day here, cannot move and yet I yearn to roam through
the medina one last time, for this time, for now, but no, i will stay quiet,
perhaps the sign….
on this twilight evening, we are walking through the
Mellah, the old Jewish section, which is always bustling,
very intriguing with the only houses in Marrakech that have
balconies to the outside, this is quite different, all Arab and
Berber homes, have balconies facing to the inside, to their
own private gardens and courtyards. very interesting. keep
walking, in the distance high up, on old palace walls, we see
the storks, it is wild! what silhouettes they give, we want to get
nearer. residing only on ancient palace walls, they have built huge
nests, are huge birds. nobody knows how they got here and how
many. night is falling, straining our necks to get a last glimpse, we
are gleeful, yet another bit of magic that is Marrakech.
have recently gotten into the habit of giving a little of
the parakeets’ seeds and nuts to the wild birds who
show up on the bedroom balcony every morning. today
I awoke to a trio of them, singing me awake, more than
enchanting, all lined up in a row, is there anything
sweeter than this?
floating, lifted up, rushing with desire, must keep at my
dream, work day and night, tear apart, break through,
climb over, any obstacle that is keeping me from it, how
to do, stretch time, stay upright, stay awake, be everything.
at my drawing board, I am queen, new design images are
constant, how to interpret, retain, sleep on the floor. just came
back from spending a little time with Khalid, he has rolled
into becoming his most exalted self, years of hard work and risk
and intention, he is on fire, is making it big in the art world, my world.
Robert, and I always adore an afternoon coffee at his gallery, raving
over pieces or some world matter, I leave elevated, still trying
to break though on my own plane, he inspires, I desire….
a day of fantasy, reverie, calm. grounds that you could
get lost in, so seductive with immense population of roses,
perhaps half an acre, smell intoxicates, I want to sleep in
this field forever, can hardly tear myself away. the pool, with
fresh water, is also staggeringly beautiful, set in an olive grove,
so evocative, each building on this property, including several
foundries (they produce all their own dishes, glassware) is made
with straw and adobe, every door majestic, wood, from another
era. everything is gorgeous here, even our lunch. spend the day,
we are the last to leave, can hardly leave, a new pearl found
in Marrakech, ah oui-
takes this long to switch over, to come back to, be in/on
the ancient lands. yoga stretch and dance for the evening,
flying off the world… my river inner is gushing profuse, ideas
are spinning, fingers are shaking, beads everywhere, must
keep up; it is all happening here, is always happening,
where you are. I like it, and now, to build, dreams of the empire….
next collection is going to slay I trust–
it is so beautiful, a work of art, two years finally to complete, more than
dreamy to come back to. a small space, but what perfect confirmation,
high ceilings, big windows, view, efficiency. I love it madly, want to
get it published, how to do this, have never done. and the atelier too,
so gorgeous, also such economy of space and brilliant, exotic,
set in Marrakech…. somehow the presentation of these interior design
projects will stir things up on jewelsarts.com, trying so hard to multiply
he shuffles by, quite bent, pushing a wheeled trash
cart, stopping at every gate, he is anonymous, gathering
the debris of all the flying people, an endless routine. I
try to make eye contact, to see who he is, he looks away,
is invisible. to imagine others lives, fascinates, what worlds
we all inhabit, create, fall into, what paths taken, what paths
not found, dreams realized, dreams not reached, no dreams.
I continue on, send him a blessing, I am walking in my own
imagination, still striving for mine, still striving….
he was leaving, 12 years with his lady love, ending,
after months of trying to break apart, the severing of
two joined beings is complete, is raw. he comes to
say goodbye, moving back to California, starting again,
he is uncertain, sad, we have a tender embrace, when
he pulls away, his tears fall freely on my cheek, I am
stunned, there is so much heart felt here, it sears my soul,
gives me rumination into the night…. it is so clear now, we are
all having the same, are one.
I live at airports, fording through masses of humanity, I
am stunned by the movement, skin colors and costumes,
eyes intense. recent travels through London, plane is
diverted by a freak hail storm, connection lost, we are
shuffled to a nearby hotel, dinner vouchers for everyone.
I meet Bardolph, who is now missing a funeral in LA, a
struggling actor there, named after a Shakespearean
character, we talk into the night. this is the beauty of
travel, strangers meeting, no shields, shining hearts,
nothing to lose, pure gift, revelations….
can’t write, can’t think, mind is cloudy, milky, too much is
running, flying through….what to do? I feel joyous, mostly,
sometimes afraid that the foundation I have built for myself
in this life, is creaky…. but no, I am soaring, reaching, exulting
in the climb…. lately have felt a return to my youth, preparing a
party for 75 people, tearing the house apart, strength coming back
as I move furniture and ancient art, books and tables, oh glory,
all is new again, amazing how one feels so happy to work, doing
it singing, la la….
after 23 years in Santa Fe, a friend of mine has just moved
back to his native state, says it never felt like home here, why
not, had he been floating above his true being the whole time,
not connecting to the world that was below him? is home not
where you live, where you breathe, where you move up and down
in your mind? or is it rather where one feels a primal heart beat,
some Jungian memory to the universal self, a crying back to the
womb? my mother sailed to Europe when she was seven months
pregnant with me, my pre-birth upon the sea, then countless
countries to inhabit, I am forever restless, finding home everywhere,
nowhere, somewhere, over the rainbow..
all is quiet, they are changing the clock tonight, dusk will then come
earlier, so they can feast, not pass out, a time to connect back to
the core, to find the belief, this is a powerful thing. the physicality
of it also is very interesting, the mind set, brilliantly plays out, for a
month you must discipline, is self awakening, a collective entanglement.
there is no class barrier in Ramadan, for the lucky poor, rejoicing also,
many benevolences scattering now, blessings for everyone.
I am intrigued by this symbolism, recently it came to me
in a thought stream, is it a euphemism, or a title for a fiction
thriller, can’t say, would like to grow something around it
one day, to see where it could lead in writing…. to till the
mind, the biggest thrill of all, ah-
time is flying, is it multiplying, don’t know, only I am forever
where I am, is where my head is, that defies all borders…is there
any difference, I want to be impartial, but so love to be returned here.
San Francisco was gorgeous, such dynamic women there who champion
my work, hotel on Nob Hill a super stage, must enjoy life to the max,
who knows when it will end and where.?.. for now, back
at the drawing board in the medina, must break through, soar, leap-
what an evening, 10,000 Waves in Santa Fe, is pure bliss.
fashioned after a Japanese mountain spa/resort, Robert and
I have, for one sweet hour, our own private outdoor hot tub
and sauna. set amongst juniper and piñon trees, smells earthy,
intoxicates. unwinding under a big sky, breathing pure air, we
smile wide, make the hour last long. for the finale, take a cold
plunge, this shocks, alive/electric. we are healing ourselves,
how wonderful, a massage next, Lindsay has strong hands.
how many years have our bodies carried us, must soothe it
now, what lies ahead is more challenging and exciting than
ever, getting ready, oh yes-
glorious time of year, spring, there is a buoyancy, sidewalks
gleaming, my feet are gliding. walk miles here, concrete mountains
with steel and glass. meet my sister-in-law in Washington Park,
we sit on a turn of the century bench and watch the show, a
parade of young and old, every imaginable style and color, it
titillates, is relaxing. Obama is in town, how exciting, my hotel,
where many of the delegates are staying, is under heavy arm
guard, security is tight. after my lovely room service dinner, I
descend to see if I might catch a glimpse of him, impatient after
a few minutes, I return to my chamber. oh, had I the abandon of youth,
would have spent the night in the lobby, tragic!
the "Furias", just looking at the word, speaks itself, it applies
to four inhabitants of Hades, to where they were condemned
for defying the Gods: Tityus, Tantalus, Sisyphus and Ixion, the
period, around 1548. as a group, the "Furias" became a popular
iconography for 120 years after their first appearance, this art
work of extreme suffering is jolting, huge canvasses that grip
deep within, the aesthetic of horror. so blessed was I to have
had parents that drug us to every museum in Europe as a child,
it is ever my comfort to seek same, late in writing this, on return
to USA, two nights in Madrid, exciting!
tulips everywhere, oh such short lives, but what whimsy
till then, they give, cannot be measured, no, and do not
want to measure, anything. just to be, to breathe, that
is all. passing by one of many beautiful gardens in this
neighborhood, this last evening here, I see a woman stooped,
digging the earth, planting, such a classic human pose! so
how all same we are, really, wrapped around the world, we humans,
with wild connecting threads, all trying endlessly, to connect each
our own dots…
returned one week to the states now, how does it feel,
jet lag raw as new positions are presenting themselves, must go forward
or get bored, or go back. cannot stay the same for too long,
moving on, it’s a song. new possibilities are thrilling, I am
caught in the draft. energy is lifting, to fly again! early morning
walk to shuffle the bones, peonies everywhere in Cambridge
and lovely, fabulous women who buy my work, oh, lucky, lucky!
last Sunday, last days, how to wrestle with all the final details,
to leave order, clear paths, write instructions…. the workshop
is a little beauty now, will be having visitors while I am away,
flowers must be brought in every week, wine stocked, pretty
napkins folded nicely….. and then you have to take a breath,
let go, let the Gods divine, let the Gods-
Jeff Bruges chocolatier from Brussels had produced gorgeous
eggs for the holidays, fine chocolates wrapped in sparkling tin foils
of all bright colors. Greg had found some Easter like baskets in the
medina, his Senegalese assistant had created some shredded papers
to fill them, upon which to rest the Bruges eggs, table was gorgeous,
all fine antique linens and china from his grandmother. we hailed forth,
enjoying a Sunday afternoon, sun streaming through the courtyard.
we all held hands as Dennis led a prayer before we partook of our lamb,
it was about not wanting or aching for anything, it was about just being,
being in the now, ever clear and present, thankful.
everything is flashing by so quickly, to have humanity’s spark
moving through the souks, serves well, excites and gleams, makes
real, the human family. the colors intoxicate, a beautiful woman
walks by carrying her beautiful baby, our eyes meet, she smiles,
she has her treasure. this is the wide world, close up. now I have to
think of leaving, though it tears, I do what I must-… next, to
stretch out these last days, oh glory
Robert’s birthday, a very nice day, and I am afraid of losing
Lucky, the fear seers within, I want to weep copiously, don’t
hold back. I have lit a candle for you tonight, Mr. Lucky, I am
with you in soul time, soon there will be no time….what has gone
wrong? in all the chaos of studio renovation, you have caught
something, vet nor I know what, it is only your will now and
bright spirit that can get you through, you got to get through.
it’s a scene, a wild scene, it sizzles with gorgeous
girls, so beautiful, those sultry looks, breath taking.
some with hair black as midnight, looks like ink, and
others with what appears to be manes, how do they
handle it, God gave a lot here. I observe this hot bed
of activity and marvel at the connectedness of all of
us, basic wants and needs so much the same, the
fragility of self, the yearnings of the heart, dreams.
we are each tramping to our own shores, ah oui-
folk tales and fables, over time, can turn into mountains,
the power of the mind is limitless, no boundaries here, what to
believe, you choose. only I know this day because it
is your birthday, Ali, so I salute you, may you continue to walk in
beauty and grace, with rose petals at your feet, laughter and
joy forever wrapped round you,
with love from Marrakech, xo
we lost Angel this week, she just died. we had her for six lovely
sweet song years, she was charming, she was bold, a lime green
color only nature could provide, feathers soft as rose petals. we buried
her where we buried all the others that have gone before, in our one
lone olive tree pot, on the terrace, pushed another wooden cross in…
and so wheel of life keeps turning, sad, happy, sad, happy.
new patterns have been given life, a calm descends, the flow….
I tell my husband the party is just beginning, he says, what party,
I say, the party of life, of course. the past two weeks have
been spent in the refitting of our little house in the medina, it
has been going well and very soon, it will become the party, a small
haven to work and play in, have company from all over the world in,
to be and breathe in, a be in, ah-
new flow to the life here, now that I am back in the medina, finding again,
another way to be…. so much still inside, when does it come out? creating
memory, North Africa….every evening, walk back to Gueliz, put a candle on
the balcony, why not make magic, sitting in bed, I can see it all…. the lantern
effect on the bare wall is a resplendent tree, a tree of life, bountiful. so very
blessed are we who have had freedom, I count my lucky stars-
final box has been taped up, I am sitting on a lone chair, waiting for
the little truck we have hired, the conclusion of what has been my
studio for the last five years….. I wonder, does any part of the soul
linger in what is left behind, in the atmosphere, in the walls? a time
for reflection….. and then what for the next five years, if the Gods
do so grant-
four months away, on another bright stage, now return to
the ancient lands….how wonderful it is, this world we love!
it is time to create, turning our darling little house in the
medina, into a studio, build it and they will come, isn’t it so?
rolling in the "field of dreams", what else to do. must be in the
moment, let go, everything to find there……. so to work,
can’t write, can’t find a pearl to reflect a soul moment,
stuck. this five week work intensive has been exciting,
productive, with enjoyment all along the way, why can’t
I write about it? latest design break throughs are thrilling,
clients are stunning, future projects riveting, home team
synchronized & happy, and with an ever adoring husband,
I guess i am writing about it now, so be it.
how much of life is lived in the head, returned 10 days to the states now
and where am I? mind is racing with much to do, what has happened to
the moment, to being present, so hard here when everything, everyone
is running, running……and to what? to find time, then there is no time-
bright night, sky illuminated, is that the other side of the world I see, that
is left behind, so far away now, how to hold to it? that’s the beauty of
travel, it takes you out, repose of the the rattle, ah….
how to reach the deep within, to feel the true, to find the self? on this eve of
departure, I am wrapped in sorrow, why? is one parting, every parting, like every
broken dream, a bright shard in in the dunes of memory? can ‘t walk barefoot in these sands, oh no. got to keep moving on, yes yes.
lovely tropical island, lush foliage, pure white sand, clear and gentle waters,
we have come to the beach to become vegetable like, to become. this is
the ending of our trip, clinging now to this last week, how to stretch out the
time, how to dream this forever?
walked to the top of Phousi, a hill right in the middle of town, where a temple is
perched at its top. Buddhists make this a daily climb, the number of steps directly
corresponding to some magical combination in the universe that brings one closer
to the goal of self revelation, oh.. ( just now seeing in this word, reve, which means
dream in French, who knows?) for me it’s all about freeing the birds, a few dozen
tiny creatures in small, loosely woven straw cages are lined up for sale just outside
the holy gates, make a wish and let them go. I buy as many as I can, they fly high
into the sky until you can no longer see them, it is exciting, they are excited too!
wrenching now to leave, have not had enough, where were the ends to what we
could have found here? spent most of our last day at the National Museum of History, spectacular ancient bronzes and ceramics set in a very statuesque and
rather elegant former home to the Ecole Francaise d’Extreme Orient, circa 1924,
dream space, spins the mind out. late lunch at the Metropole, another classic,
hotel dates back to the turn of the century, grounds spectacular, everything spectacular about it. the Rising Dragon, our digs, were quite ok also, every evening we returned to our bed sprinkled with fresh red rose petals, a luxury that will stay
propped up in this journey’s memory, extra fine and sublime, ah oui-
beautiful lakes throughout make for sweet refuge, with centuries old banyan
trees creating perfect umbrellas, their ancient roots of a sculptural genius,
all this in a so dense city, it’s magic. have fallen hard for this town, what the
French left…. exotic Indo Chine, feeling the heart beat still, it is soul stirring,
it is soul.
don’t know anyone here, have a contact, through a new friend, go to meet
Huong. trained as an anthropologist, now turned art dealer, he is warm and
gracious, has some pieces to show us, will collect more in the next few days…
this is it, this is the life I know, the life i love! developing friendships, sharing
interests, dreaming treasure, ah-
crumbling architecture of another century in glorious former splendor is the
most intriguing city yet, the opium world seems not very long ago, it is evocative
to the bone, pulsating, breathing life. streets are people full, the sweet
Communists, oh my. an old friend writes and asks how I could put one penny
into a regime such as this, I say, we are a human family, must break down walls,
must break down, inside and out.
"you may still be here tomorrow but your dreams may not",
can’t get this tune out of my head…. in Luang Prabang now,
a most timeless town in Laos, the year: about 1950, I adore it!
this little hotel where we are staying, owned by a foreign couple
supporting their humanitarian work, is on a quiet street in the
old town, every morning a procession of young monks walk by,
in silence, receiving alms from all the locals. it is mesmerizing,
magical, movie like. are we not all in our own movies, directors
nine years ago when I first met him, I loved him right away, the nephew of my
husband, Robert. young and sleek, dynamic, centered, finding self expression
In Chiang Mai, empire building. gentle to the local ways, he has been able to get
the best from the people and be the best for the people. he is soaring. when
one is tuned in to one’s true, life flows…. nice to be near one’s heart beat, nice to
he was the love of my life, the most beautiful Arabian horse, I left him
when we moved from Africa to Europe, I was fifteen. last night I woke up
in tears from a dream, arms wrapped around his neck, my face buried
in his luxurious mane, I was saying goodbye, I guess I never really did.
he was the English ambassador’s horse, I rode for him, it was my life.
then I was gone, forgot everything, fell in love with boys and high heels…
the heart is vast and wondrous, I am feeling so tender today to remember
this unconditional love, to remember unconditional-
it is so sultry, exotic, Asian. traveling Bangkok’s waterways to cross the city,
these large motor boats glide, rock, & roil, densely packed with every sort of inhabitant: monks in bright saffron robes, young students in their British style uniforms, housewives, workers, tourists, they are fast moving and the images
that fly by are fast moving also. these glimpses into another style of life are
transfixing, of a simplicity that harks to another era: houses on wooden stilts,
pots of flowers hanging in the window, a cat lounging in the sun on the rooftop,
grand pa in the hammock, a mother doing wash, timeless! I yearn to be time-
less too, get off at the temple stop, will twist away for a while-
2 a.m. awake. which time zone am I inhabiting now, veils & layers of sleep,
fog like, float. my friend’s grandmother has just died, she lives here, telephones me.
I am thinking if she could just catch a plane, fly to the states now, couldn’t
she get back before it happened, in time to say goodbye? this concept has
always intrigued me, crossing date lines, traveling through time, traveling-
there is an undulating roar rising to these 22 floors, a demonstration
Is taking place, this double pane glass can not keep the sound out,
I can no longer concentrate on my book, must get dressed and hurl
along with the protestors, must hurl-
the clatter, the color, the hawkers, the steamy sidewalks, the melodious pace, all this intoxicates me here. I glide along with the stream of humanity, feet barely touching the pavement and I feel deliriously happy, hardly able to contain my laughter. must be like a circus to my psyche, memory to childhood. Bankok, je t’adore! three days here now, with the reverse time change, still trying to catch the river taxi to the amulet market, to find the Buddhist magic dealers, to dream of staying awake….
the thing about staying at bed & breakfast inns, you share your mornings
with total strangers…what wild abandon may ensue, what insights into lives
otherwise never thought of or imagined, what little gems of other’s thinking,
new considerations for the mind’s frontier, excitement! this morning a visiting
art/philosophy professor from Rhode Island, the discussion: are the young made freer by
all this rampant technology or have they become disengaged/desensitized, more distanced
than ever from their core, ultimately, are we headed towards a more robot like world,
towards extinction of life as we know it? the point is, it’s not life as they know it, so what
difference? much to ponder here on a Saturday, this beautiful winter day.
winter. morning walk, bright sky, wind flying leaves everywhere,
autumn is fleeting now. the last pansies with their sweet faces,
all is coming to sleep….and we would like some sleep too… last
stop on the jewelry tour, Harvard rules! amazing to think I have
admirers in such heady places, I guess it’s a matter of the right
brainers mixing with the left, oh yes-
she rises with the moon, exulting/flying in being woman,
the sheer connectedness she has to herself is palatable,
armors her, empowers her. she lives in the art/travel
world, my world. by the force of her will, she makes things
happen, reaches her dreams. she is gracious and generous,
laughter everywhere wrapped around her. she hostesses me
in her showroom in San Francisco to show the latest collection
from Marrakech. wild nights, thank you Inja, you are queen, xo
they are beautiful, bold, black & white, raucous, they show what it is
to be wild. thick, centuries old pine & evergreen trees offer luxurious
shadow & encampment. this old Denver neighborhood rises to their
song/squat every morning. I have heard coyotes roam the streets at
night, how it thrills me to think that this is, that there is still a chance to
be free, that there is still a chance –
draw the curtains all the way now, here comes this new day!
Bel Hadj, my oldest, dearest friend here, just
returned from visiting his mother in Taroudant.
i asked him how old she was, he replied with
shining eyes & big smile, 100. i said, how do
you know that, he said, there was another
woman in town who was 100 & they were
in school together…. actually, nobody knows
these things for sure & what matter, we are
but grains of sand….
a glorious fall day, perfect for my birthday!
received so many flowers, used every vase,
enchanting! on this day i always like to reflect,
on the year past, to view it with gratitude & keen
perception. i also observe the day, who i see &
speak to, will they be a key to the next year? it’s
a matter of finding poetry in every heartbeat, now
isn’t that a lofty ambition?
she is the brightest light, smiles like the moon & wears
all colors of the rainbow, stripes & polka dots, pink layers
in her hair, she is happy. formerly a French diplomat’s
wife living in Washington DC, she has now been in the
medina for seven years, wonders if she will ever move,
does not want to return to France. like everyone i know,
where to go, what to do? freedoms like these are new
found, the world, life is so amazing, the wonder of it all…
want to write, find the time, much to muse, reflections on a life.
moving forward, slowing down, finding a new way, to breathe,
to see. here in Marrakech it is all sparkly & bright, my friend Marc,
who i adore, says if you don’t live here all the time, then it’s only a
dream…///how does one choose to live, in what state of mind,
in what state? there is a classic Spanish saying, which i learned
from my husband, "in every head is a world", this is profound!
sitting under the stars at night, this is profound,
little balcony serves well, i like the sound of horses hoofs on
city streets, early evening call to prayer, feels exotic, i am
attracted. want to sing & dance…….tomorrow i am having a party,
interesting line up, many countries will be represented…..
champagne will flow.
life is to celebrate
pink ribbons of sky blurring into the horizon, another day going to slumber.
returned to the ancient lands, heart is glad. why i feel the key to my future
is here, don’t know, somehow it fills my being, being here & feeling & flying
within, is dizzying, dreaming awake…. next to capture this image i see on the
mind’s eye, is defying…. so i continue with the constancy of my work, how
fortunate i have been to have had this anchor to earth, all these years, and
now the years are numbered,…glorious night everyone!
walking, walking, taking in the skin of the city.
with such stunning architecture to entertain, time
flies- that i could fly- with these autumnal weathers,
one feels happiest, young again, when everything
seemed possible… one swims from Havana to Florida,
dreams live on, like the beating of the heart…
never letting go, oh-
through these window slants, a new day is rising, slowly
the light puts form on the shapes outside: trees, garden
sheds, old fences, overturned pots, distressed stairways
leading to former maids quarters, memories captured in
the view, amazing still. finally i am propelled to write, what
happened to this summer, i returned to the states in
early July, can i only pour forth in exotic environs, in places
where my mind can move out from the ordinary, the every
day? to soar & fly within, this is my desired way of being,
to translate its perception into the written word, this seems
to require some sort of friction…. New York, you are a hive
of possibility, looking forward-
the pigeons have a great history, were working birds
at one time, also a savory delight here in a favorite
dish, pastilla. and so, last year a little family moved
onto the balcony at the studio, behind the air conditioning
unit. after the season, when the newborns grew & could
fly, we had Abdou, our handyman, barricade all possible
entrances to the unit, and then some. i left for America.
upon my recent return, a babble, a clamor on the
balcony, such commotion ,two new babies are being
fed by their mother who laid her eggs in the only
potted plant we have there, what to do? they are so
adorable, we look onto them everyday for good luck.
the circle of life continues….
hot. it is getting very hot. i am invited to
a friend’s house for Friday night cous cous.
three generations on three stories in the
old city, the medina. this is getting back
in time, so alluring… the house is charm-
ing, ancestral, traditional, colorful tile work
everywhere, is the dressing. high ceilings
with handmade craftsmen copper & glass
lanterns, lends the night the magic and
so it unfolds….sweets & mint tea are served
first, then a platter arrives on which a mountain
of cous cous is veiled by almonds, chicken,
pumpkin, various vegetables, cooked raisins
& plums, this is a delight! much laughter &
simple communication, i adore the grandmother
who is the essence of earth & love.. i admire
her white cotton embroidered caftan, this morning
it is what i am wearing, she washed it in
the evening & had Abdel Karim deliver it early a.m.
this is the sweetness of life, isn’t it?
how to string it all together, each fanciful photograph
in the mind, of a day in the life: Marrakech….Monas
for breakfast, she is spirit extreme with warmth to reach
around the world, cooking & singing in a kitchen so
tiny, she fills it up. she takes a little break to chat,
smokes an elaborate hookah with perfumed tabac.
to be around her, one is always happy. she presents
my hot lentil cakes with one humble carrot slice on top,
like it is a prize, it is.
walking, walking, searching for a store i remember
where i might find an interesting lamp for the apartment.
getting hot, parched, discouraged, then all of a sudden
i come upon a strawberry cart, mounds of red, so
colorful, the vendor with a smile so bright, his hand
reaching towards me with one to offer. i buy a kilo,
give up on the lamp, go back & spend the rest of the
afternoon reading The Heart of Darkness & Tales of Unrest,
what can i do after this? call Jacques in Paris-
back in Robert’s office, window is flung
wide, i can see the reflection of the
mountains on the pane, palm trees and
pink, i adore, happy to be returned for
a little time, to be by myself, what will
i learn….a life of reflection, i have
had it my way, this is elation, oh for
living the dream-
too late to write tonight, lost track, so much was
forgotten, who cares, must enter back in…
looking for the magic,
after the first week, a sidewalk,
lush with dogwood petals, so fresh… why try to recount,
or catch up….tonight we were at John & Kumi’s,
it was a fine time, we are the Internationalists, raised
by wolves, nomadic. big sky night, lots discovered and
learned. love to each & all xo
now it is i who is leaving, can it be, how the time is
flown again, cannot seem to contain it, one week
remaining, it will be athletic! i have done core work
these last seven weeks, reflected & pondered much,
enjoyed the association of the girls in the studio, the
cats, laughed with & did well with the runners who have
such spirit & depth, combing villages & remote markets
for me. etc., etc. enjoyed every Sunday in the medina,
art openings, little parties, new friends, old , the apartment,
and now, to go, New York & Boston, present latest collection…
the world is spinning round-
Maureen & Myron are going back to the states after
living in Marrakech 8 years, breaks my heart, really.
just knowing they were here gave a sense of stability,
some grounding that i seem always to look for wherever
i live. nothing has changed in all this time, wild! the traces
to childhood, always moving, looking for a rock…..found out
i was the rock. oh glorious Monday! xo
with now the apartment pretty concluded, we had
ten people for cocktails on Saturday evening, old
and new friends, it flowed, it laughed, was relaxed.
sweet champagne with animated conversations in
several languages, fun was had by all. a lone guitar
topped the night, ardent love songs to tear at one’s
heart, sweetness! Robert & i felt happy to be dreaming
a life in Marrakech, is this being on the yellow brick road?
so amazing the elation of moving to the new city
into this fabulous, spare 750 square foot modern
apartment with elevator & doorman, my New York dream!
with its precision of space, big windows, big view, it has
magic… working with very talented craftsmen and applying
French linen, eccentric art finds, Italian leather, and those
forever sound German appliances, it is now one year.
today the last mounting of a tribal door, and then to
live the life, to be, to drag out Ali’s yoga mats…
my first American friend here, Greg, has
invited us for Sunday to his fabulous, very
New York apartment, what walls aren’t
lined in books are covered with paintings,
always a delight, but how to have Easter
in Marrakech? with so many lovely handmade
baskets here, i am entertaining the thought of dying eggs, so far henna could
serve for varying shades of red, tumeric
mixed with water, for yellow, but how to
get blue? Fatiha & i are thinking, thinking..
life is but a dream-
i walk to and from my studio, Monday through
Friday, for an unscheduled life, i like this novelty
of routine, very sweet. i have been a little troubled
this time with Hassan II, one of the oldest boulevards
in Marrakech, being torn up and swelled to harbour
more traffic at the cost of double tree lined sidewalks
becoming single tree lined sidewalks. these trees
are over 100 years old, beautiful! i am happy to
have just learned that these trees have simply
moved, to Targa, a residential, outlying area, and
are thriving, what joyous news, a nice beginning
to week number four, spring work program, 2013.
hope this week has such a lovely start for all of you
early rise, the sky is afloat with puffy pink clouds,
to dream on, float on… lift up, fly away, the days
are few to hold onto, reaching sixty has changed every-
thing, and i love it more, life is precious now. the essential
moment is all and everything, the only key to happiness,
how many philosophies have expounded this, finally it
sets in, what freedom, at last! enjoy your today-
my body is still shaking with an image of an exotic
bird of prey, wings stretched out upon the parakeet’s
cage, (which was on the window ledge for morning
airs) seemingly ready to alight with it- wow- this is
downtown Marrakech! my little birdies are a sweet
morsel for him, Fatiha runs in shouting, he flies to
another roof top & looks back, we rush for the
binoculars, a wild beauty, he is gone….. with a keen
memory, the birds are now not allowed outside,
wishing all of you an exciting day as well – xo
Monday morning is the day Fatiha brings roses
for the week for the house & studio. they are so
beautiful with such a heavenly smell, my mood
instantly climbs, i am transported to imaginary
fields in a magical land. the roses my darling
husband brings me every week in Santa Fe are like
ice maidens, no scent, no charm, big difference to be
growing wild, non?
my two little parrakeets are shrieking this
morning, tearing me from my dreams, a
wild bird has flown in, isn’t it nice to have
a visit? the contrast looms large, freedom
versus security, in or out of the cage,
how far can you fly?
this morning stirred up a very powerful
memory: meeting Yacoubi, a well known
Moroccan painter, whom i had known when
living in Tangier, visiting him in his
studio in New York, noting a somewhat
large bird in a small cage, "what difference
the size, it’s all a cage"… the little
gems that one can find in a day-
what a curious word & the interpretation it stirs up, to
some mysterious past… i was on the tails of a present
day wizard, a former American president who made
magic in his day, no name dropping, no need. taking
an afternoon idle before going to visit the King, solidly
escorted, he visited the best gallery in the medina &
bought the best things. i should mention, he got some
hamsas, in the know, in the now, fantastic!
beauty, there is always a cost, my soul leaps
when i walk the outer walls of the old city, the struggles
& sorrows, the human race, seaps through the cracks,
the past raises a bloody head. i don’t know what lingers in
this mud, history seems always the same: fight for rights,
injustices, equality, when to fly free? the sky is so blue
beautiful, i am giddy, feet don’t touch the ground. off to
find a wizard…
amazing how many lambs have come home
with the inception of this site, now three months
since it’s birth. a recollection by Tommy: escorting
me to a meeting with a client in Gramercy Park,
my briefcase handcuffed to my wrist, how wild!
perception is everything… i do remember another
time in New York going to see Carly Simon, had
gotten out of the cab too early, briefcase was heavy,
as i was walking a very distinguished looking
gentleman asked if he could help, he was going
the same way, always living on my wits,i let him
carry it. he accompanied me to the front
door, as it should be…
from the moment i arrived to my studio at 11:00 am
until 5:00 pm in the afternoon, a spectacle of dealers
streamed through with the most amazing finds, bits
of torn histories, magical charms, fragments of a
vanishing way of life, stuns me, i am transported to
another epoch, where i would forever happily reside….
this is my oh so familiar world, how lucky i have been
all these years to live in it, my mother always saying i
never grew up, digging for beads as a child in Tripoli, ah, the
sweetness of youth-
do not know how time flies, like a bird in flight… now,
after many months, am returned to my beloved Marrakech,
how joyful i feel, lighter than air… through the pouring rain
i can hear the horses hastening on the pavement, this sound
is music for me, stirring up a sweeter & simpler time in
life, though at the crosswalk yesterday my way for a walk to the medina, the two cars waiting for the light to
turn: one Audi, one Mercedes. that is the wildness here,
all worlds present, cannot escape TIME, it is marching
forward…. we must march with it, strong & bold! have a
lovely start of your week, xo
days pass, who knows how long the time…..
did think much on the last entry about "dreaming back",
how is this possible, must be more like a reverie,
for now, to dream forward, that is excitement! and this
we have found here, in Salvador, capitol of Bahia,
so vibrant & alive with African culture, much magic
& Catholic shamanism, something i had never conceived
of, crazy art in 17th century churches, Madonnas with
animal claw charms, gold alters, black art,
we love this place! only four days, what we have understood,
spins.. what we have found, gold. more later-
walk into the interior this morning…am i dreaming back to Goa, a
timeless time ,a wild time, youth.
battery running out, later
early morning rains, how does it change the patterns
in the sands, the only thing to contemplate here, so slow the
time is…. shall i ever fit myself back into my hurried,
international life again? will that grain of ambition rise once
more, a towering giant……don’t know……for the now am happy
to read this ton of books we’ve dragged along, all brilliant & beautiful,
thank you Ali.
love the sumba
return from a morning at the beach, these tropics
intoxicate….out of time, no frame, magic.
the Brazilians meet life with abandon, in a total
state of undress, tattoos are many, youth!
we feel completely at ease, catching our breaths.
walking until we can’t take another step, we
trust we have slimmed in spades, ah!
sweat is causing my glasses to fall off, trying to write.
samba music streams where i sit in main house of
our small, seven room hotel, a real gem. this is a return to
simple living, no cars, no paved roads, mule drawn carts on land,
dug out canoes on river, i think we have
found a little bit of paradise….
batteries running out, more later…
this is ocean front, Caraiva
Rio, eve of the new year, pulse here runs wild, what visions & insights
will 2013 offer up? always to begin again, pure as this white sand…
sultry & hot, spend the afternoon at the Modern, fabulous space like
a rocket hangar, some great works of art. tonight will go to a party
with Brazilian/Japanese, feel fortunate to have an entry into the local
life with my nephew being married to someone who grew up here.
she is a doll, generous in all ways. energy is currency, the Brazilians
have it tenfold. Happy New Year everyone, may it be magic!
the pulse of this little town, Santa Fe, this time of the year, is very animated,
very sweet, with lovely lights & decorations. candles in the moonlight, something
special. after my just completed 4 city tour & a studio opening, am happy to have
a little holiday time, cozy night fires, reverie. still dreaming about the future of
this site….. enjoy, one & all, this holiday season, love everything! xox
to capture the moment, that is the mark, how? no time, too busy, missing everything.
what language lost, poetry, metaphor… for now, mesmerized by this site, oh how new cyber world,
catching my breath, and so it is unfolding… thank you, each & all, very much! i am thrilled,
excited, a platform for my work. NEVER take any one thing or one some for granted,
racing to catch an early morning take-off to San Francisco, i bathe by a
streaming moon & glorious! could not remember the last…..youth moving
farther & farther away… why i like weather & cold, come alive again….
oh grant us a little longer on our path to self realization, the ultimate
intoxication & frenzy-
such a lovely time with some new expat friends. Gary has lived 25 years in Liberia. with USAID,
recently bought an apartment here in Gueliz, travels back & forth to Monrovia which was founded
by former American slaves, (named after President Monroe), anyway, many American products are
still imported there, he arrived with a suitcase full of things to make Thanksgiving, everyone so
excited, the simple things in life, that is sweetness.
Autumn crispness is here finally! Sun abounds and birds are happy!
meet Greg late morning to view a 1930’ies old French house for sale,
dreaming on….. it is quite wonderful and charming but now i have no space
for this in my head, i can only think of the soon to be "coming out" of my business
into the big wide world, into the web……
i think i will have to hold on for the ride,
i think it’s all happening now.
thank you one and all, for those who esteem my work.
the King is coming to town, all red flags are out.
people connect to this symbol/figure, an invisible
thread, keeps the dance.
exulting in my work, beads flying off my fingers,
can hardly keep up!.. the exotic, perfumed realms
continue to inspire…
early morning rise, having to start thinking of my return to the states…..always wrenches me to leave these ancient lands….and the new apartment, what a swell party last night! everyone so lovely & bright, Virginie arrives with her new kitten carried in a rabbit fur lined basket, a little doll to pass around. named Cat, of course, Breakfast at Tiffanys..( oh, to dream…)
the hors d’oevres prepared by l’Endoit, the new restaurant downstairs, are a hit, tasty & decorative, Marc, my new best friend, serves with aplomb. Robert, so smooth in his French now, engages the young female art student from Paris and pours champagne. we have fun, i get new ideas… Friday, will have a short day at the studio, leaving for the last weekend in the medina, be glorious!
Fatiha comes early this morning, brings fresh bread & beans. we are preparing to have 8 people over this evening for drinks & snacks. with this small apartment, this is what i offer. what i am looking for is interesting conversations in various languages more than any thing else. it is amazing how much i have turned out to be like my parents, they moved to Europe in the 60ies, entertained fallen royalty, deposed generals, writers and alcoholics, what better? i adored them! now i am finding a circle of my own here & thrilled! life style is everything, be glorious!
Robert listening to BBC in living room, bird flies in our picture window, always a few bits of something to feed on. sun is shining. i am working on a little gift for Virginie, a new girlfriend, who has just gotten an atelier for herself here. 30 years in Paris & now Marrakech, i am thrilled! have had a little bead scoop fabricated for her in copper, of course attached a little wrap of leather & a silver talisman. .. now to find wrapping paper, this is where the magic begins, creating some-thing out of nothing. a pretty pink inner fold of an exotic chocolate bar, folds well, string from the bakery, a card cut out of an old French calender print, nice paper, perfect. will take this to Khadisha to use her lovely hand for writing: bravo! this is what i adore about simple living, creating what you need, no excess. am seriously thinking about a book on this, popular theme these days- have a glorious day one & all! Jewels
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SANTA FE STUDIO114 CANDELARIO STREET
SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO 87501 USA
TELEPHONE (505) 955 1488
MARRAKECH STUDIORUE HASSAN 2, GUELIZ
5TH FLOOR, #50
TEL. 0524 389 775
BY APPOINTMENT ONLY.
El FENNDERB MOULLAY ABDULLAH
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TEL. +212 524 44 1210
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10am–7pm (Closed Mondays)
SANTA FE STUDIO114 CANDELARIO STREET
SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO 87501 USA
TELEPHONE (505) 955 1488
MARRAKECH STUDIORUE HASSAN 2, GUELIZ
5TH FLOOR, #50
TEL. 0524 389 775