dinner with Hemingway

michelleattala.com

I feel as though I had dinner with Ernest Hemingway the other night. Sunday night was AMC's old work's Christmas party. For the last two years now, they have chosen a delicious restaurant in Denver in which to dine and share a chat. But, this is no stuffy crowd, these are artists. That night it was a table mostly of nature photographers since John Fielder (Ernest Hemingway) is a landscape nature photographer, mostly of Colorado. It's a safe bet that at least one of two homes you visit in this Rocky Mountain state will have a John Fielder book on their coffee table or in their collection. Most likely it will be Colorado: 1870 to 2000, in which he took old photos from across the state shot in 1870 and in 2000 stood in the exact same spot as the original photograph and snapped a shot. It's amazing to see how the earth has changed, the size of towns and architecture has changed. Anyhow, that is the best selling book in Colorado history. He's a little bit famous, but not like GaGa or anything. Actually, that night we had to explain to him who Lady Gaga is and how she wore a meat dress. But, anyway.

One of my most favorite things is to ask people who have so obviously found "their work," how they found it. Here is the story of John Fielder. (this story is from my recollection, so don't burn me at the stake for, you know.) He was a businessman in marketing or accounting for a big department store here in Denver in the 70's, and photographed as a hobby. He was married and had a few young kids. One day he said to his wife (who has since passed away from Alzheimer's) "I want to be a nature photographer full-time." And then the key words, "I have a plan."

Now, from what I gather, no one was a full-time photographer in the 70's. It didn't exist really, at least not in a 'pay your bills' type of way. (what a rebel.) He probably looked a little bit cuckoo, which is usually a good sign in the long run, right? His wife said, "I'll give you a year. If it's not working, you'll go back to Marketing." (I never met her and I love her for saying that.) And John set off, and never looked back. Today he has a gallery (for which our very own AMC was the Gallery Director) is a key note speaker all the time, is friends with the Governor and other important people, does trips all over the world with people to teach photography....he's a busy very successful guy who in his older years, drives his corvette on shoots and doesn't sleep in a tent in freezing tempuratures like he used to. Been there, done that.

As I mentioned before, John's wife passed away something like 6 years ago now. To me, there is always a thin layer of sadness upon him, I think he naturally misses his wife. But, let me tell you, he certainly seems to be enjoying his position these days in a way too, especially with the women. I saw a photo of him in the 70's and he was no hot stuff (sad but true) Today though, with his confidence and success, plenty of women want to be his friend. He is very classy about it though, which I like. Plus, there is a woman who has just stolen his heart (that's my hypothesis) and she was at dinner. (! exciting)

Enter Michelle Attala. A blonde from Zambia, Africa. Oh that accent! And get this, she's a nature photographer....of Africa. We are talking stunning photos of elephants, African sunrises and native children. We are talking National Geographic. She's very intelligent. It's almost like she's the woman version of John Fielder! She's extremely spunky, and pokes lots of fun at John, which is good, because he needs a little bit of fun since he has the propensity to be somewhat (ok,very) serious. Last year, not long after meeting, John asked Michelle to take him on a photography expedition.... in Zambia. And so, together, they woke up before the sun and rode in Jeeps in the African bush, both snapping photos. (romantic? I'm sure!) No one knows what happened on that trip romantically, but, she was at dinner, sitting right next to him, teasing him the whole time and giving him hell for being "the John Fielder." Actually, she kept calling him JTF (his initials) which I loved since I also have a thing for 3 letter names (AMC).  Her sister and mother were also there, along with a table full of great people who work with and for John, as well as pursue their own photography. And so, it was a table of photographers, which is pretty cool it turns out, because as a young girl I said I wanted to be a National Geographic photographer. So, I got my moment of it on Sunday, in an extremely vicarious sorta way.

Now, for the Ernest Hemingway thing. It dawned on me when John asked down the table where AMC and  the new director went. I said outside to smoke a cigar and catch up on gallery business. John said he also smokes cigars and why wasn't he invited. (ha! The boss always thinks he should be invited!) I said that I also like cigars and so he asked if I'd ever smoked a Cuban. I have, we have. Just after we got engaged in Venice, AMC and I found a tiny little smoke shop that was selling Cubans for nothing. We bought all that were in the box and went to smoke two at the end of a dock, with our feet in the water, just where the canals open up and it's a big expanse of Meditterean water. Because he's John Fielder, of course he could top that. He said that while he was in Cuba he developed some kind of relationship with someone who would send him the same cigars that Fidel Castro smokes (smoked?) The reason he knows this is, at the tip of the cigars sent, there was a special way that the extra leaf end was rolled and cocked to the side, which apparently was the signature of Castro cigar. In short, JTF said, he has smoked with Castro. Only a Colorado Hemingway could say that. And I'll take it!

I took one photo of the party that night. Voila!

John is the one eating. Michelle is the blonde on his one side, talking to her sister at the end. Michelle's mother is nearest.

To see Colorado at it's most beautiful, or to view photos of the Africa expedition he and Michelle went on visit http://www.johnfielder.com. 
Michelle's work can be found at www.michelleattala.com

 Just for fun, I did a Google image search and found these:

Michelle's work via: http://www.fine-art-printing.co.za/our-artists/item/521/asInline.html

John and Michelle in Africa via http://www.artdistrictonsantafe.com/events/john-michelles-excellent-africa-adventure

Wall Street- a cauldron of emotions

Where were you on 11/11/11?

Bill Nye the science guy moment: AMC released 118 baby sea turtles who walked 50 feet to the ocean where they began a 15 mile swim to the "food current" that circles the planet. Apparently, they will circumnavigate the world, eating along the current until they are twenty-five years old and return to the stretch of beach from where they originate.

I was inside the beating heart of the U.S.- the financial district. It seems today, as if our economy and our government are so deeply intertwined that it feels as though the Wall Street area is the capital of our country, more so sometimes, than Washington D.C.

Two people asked if I planned on going to Ground Zero. When the first asked and paired it with seeing the statue of Liberty, I replied quickly "No, I'm not into the touristy stuff this time." Which was the truth at the moment. When the second person asked me if I'd go see Ground Zero, this time I hesitated. I felt for the first time that I owed it to myself to go and visit the place that holds many emotions. I've never shed a tear over 9-11. And, though I'm not proud of this, sometimes I'd rather just forget it happened. When something unpleasant happens, I have the tendency to see it for a moment, and then block it out. So, while on the subway over, I really didn't expect to be moved too much. I even wondered to myself if I was some cold, unfeeling human... until we were walking the blocks up to where the towers stood. Seeing the hugeness of the buildings that stand today, made me realize how huge those towers were too, and two of them at that. Walking the sidewalks with others, I imagined there were people just like me there that day, going about their business when an airplane ran into one. I imagined the sound, the wonder, the fear. Imagined people running the streets. I did my best to face the image of people under the debris, and realize that this is their resting place, all of them together. A cauldron of emotions boiled inside me, which included admiration for the deli that stands caddy corner from the old towers, which is still open today, flying an American flag. Their being there was taken as a statement by me. That is their neighborhood, and they are going to love it rain or shine. Then there are the construction people, working to build the two huge fountains that will stand where the World Trade Center towers once did. I wonder what they think about sometimes as they work there, I wonder if their emotions ever overtake them, as they did me. I wonder if tears fill their eyes too.

A stone's throw away, next we visited the Occupy Wall Street camp. The original movement that to my suprise has spread across the country and has lasted quite a while. I am very curious about the protest movements that people all over the world have been forming and carrying out. Libya, even the teenage rioters in England were something of a protest. It seems as though normal people across the world are fed up and are not afraid to cry out about it. I've heard about many protests in France, and I always admired them for it. After seeing Michael Moore's documentary on Capitalism, I realized that citizens hold more power than I realized and if we say something in a large enough group- the other party will hopefully have to give in. Watching the movie years ago, I wondered if Americans would ever band together and protest. I am happy to say, they do. I'd love to see more reputable people standing for the cause, as I'm sure they are out there. Right now, it looks a bit like a hippie commune, which in our society today, probably won't get the respect it desires. But, it was refreshing to see a movement like this happening in 2011 in New York, it is a mirror for me. Other people see the same things I do, and they are doing something about it, in whatever way they can.


Yet, a few more blocks away is Wall Street, the actual one. The rumor is that it is named Wall Street because when the Dutch arrived and set up shop there, a wall was constructed to divide the Dutch and American sides. As I came up on the NYSE, I was amazed at the beauty of the building. So many of the old buildings in the city as a whole, remind me of Paris. I am so thrilled that the US has architecture of this era. I hope one day we return to it. The stock market as a whole is still somewhat of an enigma to me, and these days it's shrouded in a darkness that I can't shake so my feelings on the buidling were mixed. It's almost as if I have to love it, because, whether I like it or not, it is so important in this country and impacts so much of the world.

Walking closer to the water, we visited The Charging Bull.  According to wikipedia, An artist in the 80's constructed this huge, bronze statue to symbolize the "strength and power of the American people." The oversize sculpture depicts a bull, the symbol of aggressive financial optimism and prosperity. One night, the artist dropped it off in the middle of the city. The people loved it immediately. When the police hauled it away one day, the people uproared. And today, due to popular demand, the bull stands in Wall Street with many admirers surrounding it. Hail to the Bull Market!

All of these events happening in such a concentrated area was stimulating. So much so that my intended next stop was the Museum of Modern Art, which is free on Friday nights. But, on my way over I saw a bookstore that I popped into and spent a few hours. The quiet and peace of the store gave me time to assimilate all that I had seen and gave me time to process on some level.  Nothing like a vacation where you get R&R and food for thought!

The Occupy Wall Street camp

Ground Zero memorial under construction

The camp has it's own library. And live music.

Ornate.

The country's capital?

The Charging Bull

Veterans on Veteran's Day 2011.

New York City- Ambitious Roots

Even with all of our technology today, it still amazed me that yesterday I woke up on LL's couch in New York City and by the afternoon, I was buying pumpkin pie making goods in my World Market store in Denver. Apparently, I don't buy in other cities. I was a bit worried about how I could go to NYC and not purchase something fabulous besides cigars for AMC. Afterall, I won 250 big ones at the work conference when they pulled my business card right out of a bowl, money was not the issue.

It wasn't until this morning after a solid ten hours of zzz's that I realized it. New places, are electrifying. I mean this almost literally. Somehow, I become entranced by all of the newness- and I'm always on my way to see something else grand... that there is no way to make a logical shopping decision. Travel puts me so much in the "present moment" that I can barely handle having a conversation on the phone.

The Big Apple is the epitomy of this feeling. Somehow I ran around town, on 5 hours of sleep, day after day, walking blocks and blocks and blocks until midnight. It happens. I would go to sleep each night with my feet actually throbbing. They felt like I'd helped build the Pyramids or something. I'd think to myself, "ok, tomorrow, take it easy. Go to a cafe and do some blogging." And then, just 5 hours later the dawn would come through the curtain and I couldn't resist. That place is a drug,  an injection, a rabbit hole...it breeds Ambition (yes capitalized.)

Never in my life have I encountered so many people shooting for the stars in their career. Diamond buying for Tiffany's, stylists doing a Garnier hair shoot shown in Rolling Stone. Once I heard a story on NPR about a woman who practically through a dart at a map to find her next home, which turned out to be Las Vegas. She was saying how as a "town" Vegas allows you to be who you are- whether that's a Vegas impersonator or transvestite cocktail waitress. She remarked how free it is, no one wonders- everyone just does what they are. The twin to this must be NYC.

If the city has roots, we go underground to view them. As above, so below. The subway.

reporting from the 41st floor...

these New York minutes, all 36 hours of them so far...must break the laws of relativity or something Einstein would know about. It seems as though time suspends here, as you prance from one activity to the next, experiencing things one after the other that make you wonder if you in the U.S., time ceases to exist, let alone matter.

per the sake of example, after a lovely dinner at the madmen restaurant- meeting the head designer for Nanette Lapore and another girl who's story about gay penguins made it from time.com to the #1 story on cnn.com, I felt complete and thought it was normal that I go back to my hotel to snooze to be ready for a central park morning stroll. Then, my dearest LL, who lives in Brooklyn gave me a text. next thing I know, we are eating cheesecake at a red table, smack dab in the middle of Times Square. We, I in my unsmartest "walking" shoes, continued down the avenue (5th?) to Bryant Park, where all of the trees grow bending inward towards the central courtyard. There we sat near the steps of the Public Library- where I wished a security man with keys swinging around his finger would come by and allow us a sneak peak inside- it looks like a Paris building, all ornate. Anyhow, as we are chatting about the NYC days to come, planning our escapades, LL mentions a Japanese bar, which means Japanese barfood, which means delicious and reminicent of my days as a wanna-be geisha. I had to go. Right then. So, at 11 or so we took the subway to the East Village and dined in heaven. In bed a 2 am, I left the blinds open so I would wake up as early as possible to get back out there... which was 6:30.

The point and moral of this ramble is, well, NYC is amazing. and fast. and ambitious. And it makes me feel these things too. It's magic here.
Whether you  are trying to run the best restaurant in Little Italy, or have the best knock-off purse folding table business on a sidewalk, or design clothes for a designer who has runway shows...it seems everyone is trying for the top of their forte, and all of it, really is possible. 

Flight to Luxury

 Canneloni, Manicotti, Linguini, Lamborghini, Vermicelli, Capellini, Spaghetti, Maserati.....Italians make things lovely, don't they? Pasta, leather and sport cars. Never in one place have I been in the company of many luxurious machines as last evening, when AMC and I scored tickets to an event called A Flight to Luxury for the Boys and Girls Club of Denver. We've had the best  ticket karma these days, football games, beer festivals and last night, we got to get all gussied up and fancy. We got to sit in cars that smelled even better than the "leather" scented crayola crayon, took pictures next to vintage planes, took champagne flutes off of trays.... it was quite Gatsby of an evening, held in an airplane hangar. The big doors were left open, exposing the mountain sunset, with a Grammy award winning electric violinist playing Lady Gaga and Outkast, lamb on skewers and Belgian chocolate shortcakes sprinkled with Himalayan salt. And then for the show, ruffles, pleats and patent leather dreams... a fashion show!

this was mid "sirloin sandwich"

a last prance around the planes before the show began

champagne waiting at the end of the red carpet....sigh

enter luxury

fashion forward for the fall

mingle mingle in the sunset

And then came the auction, held by, what must be the worlds most successful auctioneer- because he got a weekend "getaway" started at a bid of....... (and that's when I learned that we weren't in Kansas anymore!)

"quiche"spirations

The other evening, I came to a realization over my quiche. I came into knowing not only how I love it so but also the heart strings it just tugs on. This love of mine for quiche, inspires me- to live a little larger. quiche that is, nudges me on to live that first class life, literally. It's always there for you when you need it. An omelette with a crust, I mean, how universal! It can be eaten at any moment--breakfast, brunch... even linner. While inhaling my brocolli cheddar quiche for dinner the other evening, all of my quiche filled memories flooded ye old brain, and I began to understand just why this quiche takes me to a lovely land. Eating outside at the Botanic Gardens with friends one evening, I felt positively European eating quiche with wine. Those two chums go well together, but then again, what doesn't with wine then, yes? Then I remembered the day I fell in love with quiche, for all of the feelings it inspires.

In my youngin' days, all of my school breaks were spent with my dear Dad, Jim-bo, and soulmate stepmom Mary Sue. Starting at age 6 when they moved to Colorado, I'd pack up my Jansport backpack full of notebooks, markers and books, say bye to my Mom and walk on down the jetway with an escort, who would sit me in my coach class seat. For one whole day of traveling, I was free to eat my Oreo's first and skip my fruit. I could use my emergency $20 on frozen yogurt with colored sprinkles and no one but my escort would know.

Florida to Colorado always required a layover in those days, usually in Ft. Worth, Texas. And in the winter, the weather would sometimes wreck havoc and on one spectacular occasion, this havoc was my haven. Here's how it all went down, and the quiche inspiration sprang up in my heart.

I was probably ripe old 8 or 9. I landed in Texas and there was a whole lotta commotion going on when my escort and I traveled through the airport on one of those beeping vehicles that move people through the airport slower than one could walk. When we arrived at my gate, something happened, it was cancelled, or delayed by a million years.... or just my angels delivering my days destiny. As a kiddo, I imagine, those airlines want you off of their responsibility list and into the safe, loving arms of any parent they can scrounge up, ASAP. So, they get you on plane, darnit, as soon as they can. This meant, NOW on that dear day. We sprinted through the terminal, "just like in Home Alone" I thought as I raced behind my escort and right up to a peaceful, empty gate where a pretty stewardess was waiting for me in front of the open door. The two responsible adults exchanged a quick report which included something about the plane being held for me and we had to HURRY! The hand off of papers occured and thru the breezeway we scampered and that pretty lady that looked liked Glinda the good witch, sat me in the very first seat that was open, which ladies and gentlemen, was in FIRST CLASS.

The plane moved away from the gate seconds later and I looked around stunned at the men in business suits around me that we much to busy reading their newspapers without any pictures (wall street journal?) to notice me. I didn't get to comfy at first because I thought for sure that when we were up in the air they would move me back to my "real' seat in coach. But, when the flight attendant came to me next, instead she asked what I wished to drink, and delivered my ginger ale in what just had to be "crystal," for sure. I could hardly contain my excitement about sitting up there in such luxury, but, I decided that I had to be my most mature and polite self, I had to pull off my princess power, and act like this was quite natural.

Glinda came next to take my meal order. Would I like French Toast or Quiche? Are you kidding? Even today this ranks as the hardest meal decision I could face. But, any princess would order Quiche of course, and so, I did. And out it came, with a cloth napkin and "crystal" salt and pepper shakers. I looked around as if to say to the neighbors around me, "are you seeing this?!" That in-flight meal was never so savored, so delicately eaten. My manners have probably never been so polished, as those moments with my first-class quiche.

And so the love endures.....