2024 Comes In

Paul Cézanne's Pines and Rocks 

“Notice the brush strokes—how he uses space, how nothing is wasted,” my mother says to me. I’m nine years old, and we’re at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. We’re looking Paul Cézanne’s Pines and Rocks, but move to The Bather, and she points out the lines of model’s muscular leg, and the color palette of the background.  “No wasted space,” she reiterates. This was to become her mantra in art, and in life.

In my memory, it’s just my mother and I walking through the museum. Today, I’m on my own.

My mother’s voice comes through me as I admire Van Gogh, Picasso, Gauguin, Seurat, Monet, Matisse, and Chagall. Their work swims into my eyes and triggers a pool of memories. 

Marc Chagall's I and the Village

I smile at the playfulness of Marc Chagall (I and the Village), and hear my mother talking to me about artists’ phases, stages, and senses of humor. She often spoke about process, and taking time to explore different subjects as well as styles of painting and drawing. In retrospect I realize that this—taking time to explore and try out—was also part of her modus operandi. I can see a variety of style in her paintings, illustrations, sketch books, and subjects.

I flash back to her trying to teach me how to translate what I’m looking at onto paper in the form of sketching.    Now I try to ingest in all the images I see, and transfer them into words.

I stop in front of Rousseau’s The dream.  I relish the personal space I have at that moment to approach the canvas, and focus. I remember my mother telling me that though he never went to Mexico (as he apparently claimed—thereby entitling his “Mexican pictures”) self-taught Henri Rousseau, was able, from his home in France, and thanks to his rich imagination and frequent trips to the Paris botanical gardens, to translate jungle images from his head onto his canvas.

Tears start to sting as I hear my mother’s voice again; she is proud of my recollection of the artists and their styles, her lessons, and for my taking the time to visit the museum, and ponder all. No wasted time.

Sonia O. Lisker Gargagliano 

I consider my mother’s “Mexican pictures,” which she created after spending time in Mexico—before I was born. I look at her brush strokes. And I can’t help but  notice in her paintings, many of which surround me at home, that there is no wasted space.

And so now in mid-January, we welcome 2024—and consider what we’ve done, what lies ahead, both anticipated and not.

Last year I had several goals: to dance flamenco, try new recipes—to read more, write more, and learn Italian. I still need to work on all, and I add to the list.

I can hear my father now, telling me—as he always did—that I have to take chances. (He was referring to talents and skills, not skydiving nor bungi jumping!)  Taking chances is on my list. No wasted time.

Life, after all, is precious.  

 

Back to the Blog--And Looking Ahead

 

Sunday Pre-Dinner Assortment

It’s never just the flavors—it’s not even just the food. It is a combination of colors, textures, aromas and tastes. This is what I like to give to my family and friends. This is what reaches my soul. This is what brings me back to this blog. 

Last night’s sunset cloud dance (pictured below) inspired. It fed me some ideas.

  

And now, today, it’s December 15: ten days before Christmas, 15 days before my birthday, and 17 days before January 1—the typical resolution-start day.

Yet my soul brings me right here, and right now.

Actually, it’s not so much resolutions; it’s more of a plan of action. So, here we go with my top ten:  

1)2)      1) Read more. This year I’ve slowed down with my reading. Of course, I read every day, but not the novels and short stories like I used to. It’s time for this, too. 

2) Write more. I've left this blog aside for a year+. It's time.  I’m working on several writing projects, but I want to get back to making this one--my solo venture--more of a disciplined effort. As part of that, I looked into my own time management system—my way of brainstorming and pre-writing.

3)     Cook more. Well, actually, I do cook a lot—but I want to cook differently. I want to keep the favorites, but start exploring different combinations of spices, ingredients, and flavors. 

4)      Dance more. This wasn’t as easy to do during these past two years, at least not outside my home, but I’m bringing it back now.

5)      Watch and listen more. Here I’m specifically referring to plays and live music. Have to say, I’ve already started this one, and it’s delightful. I’m continually blown away by the talent that surrounds us. Watching performers is an emotional experience because it dives into you and pulls out feelings--while delighting your senses. It's evocative.  It’s living life within life—and allows us the privilege  of seeing from different angles.

6)      Observe more. There’s so much going on around us all the time. I want to take a step back and look at the details. At the risk of being cliché, I want to respect a  mindfulness of the eyes. This means slowing down and taking in: appreciating a child’s smile, someone’s wave as I pass, a sunset, the sight of people greeting each other. Life moments.

7)      Express more. Sometimes I hold things in my throat, instead of saying them. I don’t want to—as my dad used to say—look back and exclaim, “Woulda, shoulda, coulda” about anything, but especially about expressing certain sentiments. Now, I’m talking about the positive things. Negative ones I will keep a lid on—for as long as my current filter allows. But I want to be clearer with my loved ones. I want them to know that I love them, now and always.

8)      Create more. If something speaks to me, either evokes some kind of inspiration to bring out my colorful markers, I won’t wait, as I once did. I have my pens and my pads. It’s time to translate visions in my mind through my fingers and onto paper.  

9)      Savor more. So many moments pass so quickly. I want to stop and savor—literally and figuratively. I want to listen more. Savoring is the recognition that right now, this very moment, is the moment.  

10)   Celebrate more. Yes—there’s a lot NOT to celebrate, but there’s also much to recognize and relish. I want to focus on that without, as I’ve said before, putting my head in the sand. I’m not ignoring the negative—and do want to work and support those who work to make things better all around. But I also want to recognize the positive. I want to celebrate what we can, when we can. That’s my plan.

Like many of us who have children that are now grown, I miss their early days. They were magical. Today I found this photo of my mom and me. It is clearly a moment of celebration of surroundings--wishes, and joy. 

I wish this kind of magic for all of us--for all of our souls.