The wandering gypsy returns…

After a most enjoyable two months with family in Northern California, following a three month cruise ship entertainment contract that ventured halfway around the world, I am pleased to report that this rambunxious redhead is returning to New York City.

Considering I haven’t experienced truly cold weather since last winter, I am pretty nervous about the trek from the aiport to Astoria in a sweatshirt and my Dad’s old leather jacket. (Currently on the plane as I type.) I clearly wasn’t thinking about packing my full length “sleeping bag” coat that I normally don in below-freezing weather. I barely rememered to pack gloves and a beanie for this trip. I mean, can I really expect to survive the next couple weeks of real winter?

“Couple weeks?” you might ask…

Well, yes. At the end of the month, I return to California, this time to the mountain town of Sonora, for a three month run of Mary Poppins at Sierra Repertory Theatre. I’m thrilled! However, it seems that I cannot commit to one home for more than three months at a time. Is this my destiny?

In 2014, my “home” went something like this: one week at sea, two weeks in NorCal, three months in NYC, two weeks in England, nine days at sea, three months in NYC, three months at sea, two nights in NYC, two months in NorCal… (sigh)

It seems silly, really. And yet the question I seem to be answering more and more these days is:

“Where do you want to live? New York or California?”

or

“Are you going to stay in NYC now that you’re not doing any more ship contracts?”

6a00e54fb3acaa883400e550025a408833-800wiI have to admit that this is better than the questions about when I would move back to the Bay Area and find a man with whom I could procreate. But the honest truth is… I have no idea how to answer. How I wish I could give a tidy response, all tucked up with glitter in colorful cellophane with a big fucking bow. These days I respond with a blanket statement that soon I’ll be super duper rich and can live everywhere. That’s plausible, right? I think I’d make Santa Barbara my primary home… a nice townhouse in the West Village, private yacht in the Mediterranean, a sensible time share in Kauai…

I digress. Luckily I can always come home to my awesome apartment in Astoria. I doubt I’ll ever move out of that place.

Looking at my life in the arts – it doesn’t truly seem possible to predict or have any certainty of where I might live. I will return to New York in the Spring when Mary Poppins ends its run – but I am sure that my next project will take me out of town. (I have my hopes as to which ones pan out.) It used to confound me that this was a subject of such uncertainty, but I believe that the last few years I have spent living at sea – hopping from country to country and witnessing the remarkable minisculity of the world – have alleviated any sort of fears that this very uncertainly could exist my entire life. In fact, that, almost spinning of the globe and placing a finger, somewhat frees my spirit and excites my soul. If only my amazing kitty Marcel could always come along…

Look at the great artists of the past.Frederick-the-Great-at-his-retreat-Sanssouci Composers, painters, sculptors, poets – for them to survive in certain times, they were taken on by a patron who would house them, feed them, nourish their art and soul. In the theater world, the modern equivalent might potentially be an equity national tour with a weekly minimum and per diem. (Here’s hoping!)

It’s all very romantic and exciting. With a milestone birthday last year and my final cruise ship contract with Choozi Entertainment and Silversea coming to a close – there was a lot of anxiety and tense nerves surrounding my inner-thoughts on my future. But something must have snapped along the way. Maybe in a trip to St. Petersburg’s Hermitage Musuem at the Winter Palace? Or was it the Plains of Abraham in Quebec City? That last snorkeling trip at the Baths in Virgin Gorda? Maybe it was dinner and bowling with my family last night in Danville. Everything will be okay. I’m on the right path. I will honor my creative impulses and keep taking these risks. Because so far it’s paying off. And while I may not know where I’ll be this summer – I guarantee I’ll be having a hell of a time being my authentic artist self.

Update: I made it home just fine and am now nice and warm in my delightful apartment. Props to Hoyt Limo and my fantastic driver Giuseppe for the awesome service as usual.

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An Art Question

Walking around the SoHo neighborhood daily -whether to or from work, in and out of meetings, or getting some shopping done on the weekend- I see street art everywhere. One of the things that makes SoHo unique are the dramatic facades and large windows, a happy accident when building construction in the industrial age of SoHo moved to using more affordable, durable cast iron construction. After the abandonment of the highway plan through SoHo, artists of the area (who prized their cheap lofts with natural light and convenient seclusion from the rest of Manhattan) fought to allow residential zoning. As a result, the neighborhood has long been associated with a community of artists… now the streets are dotted with Apple, Louis Vuitton, Top Shop, Prada, etc. Though most of these lofts have been converted into multi-million dollar residences for the Jon Bon Jovis of the world (seriously-he works out at my gym!), the spirit of young artists still lives. So on the note of art – I acquired an abandoned painting by happenstance about a year ago. This was actually when I was living in the East Village, but it moved West with me. Right now I have it mounted above my fireplace, but I don’t know quite what to do with it. There’s a website written on the back, and apparently it’s a reproduction that sells for about $300. I’m not particularly a huge fan of the piece, but I’m wondering if I can do something with it. I wish I was as talented as a friend from college, Kevin Best, who takes thrift store paintings and “remixes” them for the better. Check out his stuff! So – question is, what do I do with this?

Couchsurfing

Took this on my way home from a Zamboni! show, late at night on the corner of West 3rd and Macdougal Street. I love my neighborhood. I’m planning to rasterize the image, print out sheet by sheet to fill hopefully about four feet by three feet, then mount it to either canvas or posterboard. And place it? On the dark purple wall behind the couch(/bed), of course. Thoughts?