Proust's Madeleine

The Cookie

"Many years had elapsed during which nothing of Combray, save what was comprised in the theatre and the drama of my going to bed there, had any existence for me, when one day in winter, on my return home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea, a thing I did not ordinarily take. I declined at first, and then, for no particular reason, changed my mind. She sent for one of those squat, plump little cakes called "petites madeleines," which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted valve of a scallop shell. And soon, mechanically, dispirited after a dreary day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory - this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me it was me. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, contingent, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I sensed that it was connected with the taste of the tea and the cake, but that it infinitely transcended those savours, could, no, indeed, be of the same nature. Whence did it come? What did it mean? How could I seize and apprehend it?

I drink a second mouthful, in which I find nothing more than in the first, then a third, which gives me rather less than the second. It is time to stop; the potion is losing it magic. It is plain that the truth I am seeking lies not in the cup but in myself. The drink has called it into being, but does not know it, and can only repeat indefinitely, with a progressive diminution of strength, the same message which I cannot interpret, though I hope at least to be able to call it forth again and to find it there presently, intact and at my disposal, for my final enlightenment. I put down the cup and examine my own mind. It alone can discover the truth. But how: What an abyss of uncertainty, whenever the mind feels overtaken by itself; when it, the seeker, is at the same time the dark region through which it must go seeking and where all its equipment will avail it nothing. Seek? More than that: create. It is face to face with something which does not yet exist, to which it alone can give reality and substance, which it alone can bring into the light of day."





Proust, M. (1913-27). Remembrance of Things Past. Volume 1: Swann's Way: Within a Budding Grove.
The definitive French Pleiade edition translated by C.K. Scott Moncrieff and Terence Kilmartin. New York: Vintage. pp. 48-51.

Orange Takes Flight

A stop-motion video I made...

a better poster

And a sea creature (the Dumbo Octopus) to go along with the poster:

SF MoMA Artist's Gallery

I volunteered last night at the SFMOMA Artists Gallery's big sale (see blurb below for the event's description). IT WAS AMAZING. The art was beautiful and I got to rub elbows with the cultured and slightly buzzed cultural elite of San Fran. Here are my favorite pieces!

Marie Van Elder, “Summer Days #38”, gouache on paper; 12 x 12 in.

Kara Maria, "Flipping the Birds", 2005; etching on paper; 18 x 28 in.

Beryl Landau, "Stolen Moment", 1989; acrylic on canvas 36 x 36 in.

Katina Huston,"And..and...and," 2006; ink on mylar; 36 x 72 in

SFMOMA Artists Gallery's Annual Warehouse Event is a five-day fete that offers affordable, original art priced $50-$5,000 (that's up to 50% off regular prices) Including work by more than 300 emerging and established Bay Area artists. Follow it on their Facebook page for updates on what's going to be on sale. The event runs May 6-10, 2009. The Preview Reception is Wednesday, May 6th, 2009, 6:00 - 9:00 p.m. Admission - $10, SFMOMA Members - Free

Maria Martinez, cutest ol' potter ever

Maria Martinez (1881 – 1980) was a Native American artist who created internationally known pottery. Martinez (born Maria Antonia Montoya), her husband Julian, and other family members examined traditional Pueblo pottery styles and techniques to create pieces which reflect the Pueblo people’s legacy of fine artwork and crafts.
Maria was from the San Ildefonso Pueblo, a community located 20 miles northwest of Santa Fe, New Mexico. At an early age, she learned pottery skills from her aunt. During this time, Spanish tinware and Anglo enamelware had become readily available in the Southwest, making the creation of traditional cooking and serving pots less necessary. The art of traditional pottery making was in jeopardy of extinction. Fortunately, Maria continued her interest in the fine art, and experimented with different techniques.