Pre-Ramble:  Ok … sounds like they had some snow over on the East Coast yesterday. 

I’d like to be supportive and giddy along with them as they scurry around stockpiling soup and shrieking about the “vast brindled nebula that stretched 400 miles along the Chesapeake coast, knocking out power to thousands and causing numerous accidents“ … and waxing poetic about the “enchanted snowbound adventure” that lies piled up on their doorsteps and streets …

“The hard edges of Washington were softened as the snow recast the capital of monuments and malls into a postcard town of soft ice cream shapes that had been statues and aerodynamic blobs that had been parked cars: the buried machines of a lost civilization. The Capitol and the White House vanished in the whiteout, cross-country skiiers appeared in parks and the Potomac was a grayish plate of pewter.”

Sure. Great. Let’s get all bundled up and go sledding.

The Take-Away:  There is no doubt that extreme weather, particularly snow, can be a very beautiful thing … It’s just that we here in Minnesota live with that scenario 6 months out of the year. I am scheduled to be in D.C. for a conference next week (look for a blog post or two on that) and I’d really appreciate it if they could make a concerted bi-partisan effort to have both sides of the aisle on that winter wonderland mess cleaned up by the time I get there.

Post Note:  “Good Dog” blizzard tip for First Canine Bo from seasoned, Minnesota snow-bunny, Daisy – Make sure the President shovels a potty-path out onto the front lawn … it’s next to impossible to “maneuver” in deeper-than-doggie-tummy-level snow.

Pre-Ramble: Hi, it’s me Daisy – I pitched this great story idea at our weekly editorial meeting and Mom said if I was really inspired, I should go for it (writing up the story, not digging a giant hole in the family room). 

This goes in the “I could totally do that” category … an art installation (shown right) created in 2007 by Swiss artist, Urs Fischer, for Gavin Brown’s New Museum space in New York City’s West Village. The piece is a 38-foot-by-30-foot hole, eight feet deep, that extends almost to the walls of the gallery, surrounded by a fourteen-inch ledge of jagged concrete flooring that serves as a viewing platform. The pit/art, titled You, took ten days to build and cost around $250,000  (talk about throwing your money down a hole). 

New York Magazine’s Jerry Saltz gives a pretty accurate characterization of the effort:

A gallerist has got to have a lot of faith in an artist to let him rip through the concrete, upend pipes, and fill the space with a huge open trench of dirt and debris.”

Open trench? … Dirt and debris? … (and I’m pretty sure I saw some bits of rawhide in there too) … This is my kind of art!  

Minimalist yet surreal – I thought it might be useful to consider other interpretations of Fischer’s work. Here is more of what Jerry Saltz had to say about it:

Fischer’s extraordinary installation touches on the tradition of indoor earthworks that includes pieces from the sixties and seventies by Gordon Matta-Clark, Robert Smithson, … and others, while also bringing together many of his ongoing themes of transparency, transformation, disruption, and destruction.”

‘You’ simultaneously attacks and fetishizes the attributes of galleries, the qualities that the critic Brian O’Doherty has described as ’something of the sacredness of churches, the austerity of courtrooms, the mysteriousness of research laboratories, something that, together with stylish designs, makes them unique cultic places of the aesthetic.’”

In a very minimalist yet surreal and expressionistic way, ‘You’ makes space palpable. Initially the chasm dominates your vision and takes over the room …” (duh) …

Experientially rich, buzzing with energy and entropy, crammed with chaos and contradiction, and topped off with the saga of subversion that is central both to the history of the empty-gallery-as-a-work-of-art, but also to the Gavin Brown experience itself, this work is brimming with meaning and mojo… a Herculean project.”

‘You’ is less a Deconstructivist avant-garde gesture or a parodic work of anti-art than it is an inversion machine. To be in it is to be above and below at the same time. You are indoors and outdoors; there are the perfect white walls of the gallery and this red-brown New York earth.”

This is an amazing sight that warps psychic space. It’s a bold act that brings on claustrophobia and agoraphobia at the same time, makes you look at galleries in a new way, and serves as a bracing palate cleanser.”

Here, here! … I know I’ll never look at a gallery the same way again! And, I’m sure I’ve braced my palate with the likes of the gritty fare on display here.

A brief chat with Urs – In closing, I thought it would be super interesting to get a better sense of Mr. Fischer as an artist.  The following is a clip from a recent conversation between Urs and New Museum gallery owner, Gavin Brown for Interview Magazine:

GAVIN BROWN: In our day-to-day activities there are a lot of things I don’t ask you.

URS FISCHER: Likewise.

GB: Like, I didn’t know until recently that you hadn’t gone to art school. That’s getting rarer these days. It actually makes me think that to be an artist, maybe you shouldn’t go to art school anymore.

UF: I think it’s about different generations. Many artists who don’t go off to art school come to New York. It’s about what you learn when you’re here.

GB: So where did you learn about art?

UF: I don’t know. Everywhere.

GB: Did you learn more, say, when you were 16 than you did when you were 26? Does what you learned apply better now?

UF: You basically only discover a new thing once. Actually, I’m only starting to learn about art art now.

GB: What’s art art?

UF: Art, like in the historical sense.

GB: Are you learning about that from books?

UF: Yeah. Sculpture from 2,000 or 3,000 years ago or more has similar concerns as it does now.

GB: Like what?

UF: Maybe an artist’s position in society is different today because it’s more individualistic. Maybe you’re not a direct servant anymore to the patron-you’re an indirect servant, or a servant with a choice, or maybe you could not even serve. That doesn’t matter. What I mean is, it’s the same. It’s the way you make something. Take a relief. You draw it, you carve it out. Later you build it up from a flat surface. There is no other way to do a sculpture-you either add or you subtract. There are only two choices, and it’s the same today.

The Take-Away:  There are tons of fascinating, wild, creative, odd things going on in the world all the time – sometimes right under your feet. All you have to do is dig around a little.

Post-Note:  I just hope Urs got all the mud off his paws before going back in the house.

Pre-Ramble:  Hi all – it’s me, Daisy … I’ll be your guest writer for today, since Mom is still crawling around in the yard frantically pulling out dead annuals. … I continue to be amused by her pathetic attempt to keep some semblance of a garden growing out there.  Sure, living in a shady wooded area has its challenges, but I have to think that there is more than just a “zone issue” going on here. I’m thinking user error.

(You wouldn’t know it, but the former owner of our house was a Master Gardener and had left behind an entire phased plan for expansion of his grand vision. The first spring we were here, the grounds sprang alive with colorful groupings of exotic perennials. We aren’t allowed to mention that Mom accidentally pulled most of them out in year two, thinking they were weeds.)

So, whatever – that isn’t what I want to tell you about … I want to tell you about the VIP letter I received in the mail yesterday. You may recall my earlier post (Puppy Primer, April 15, 2009) wherein I offered a few pointers (I am part Pointer, afterall … ) to Bo, the Obama’s new dog. 

Well, lo and behold, Bo wrote back!!  Actually, the letter was probably drafted by some of Bo’s “people” and was signed by First Lady, Michelle Obama (the whole opposable thumbs thing). The letter was printed on a piece of crisp white paper that said “The White House” in blue letters at the top. Along with it was a card with Bo’s official portrait on the front (see above right) and some pertinent doggie info on the back. (Little known facts: Bo’s favorite food is tomatoes! (yuck) … And, even though he is a Portuguese water dog, Bo doesn’t know how to swim … !?)

The Take-Away: Like the Commander-in-Chief, Bo is a personable, responsive, well-mannered guy. I’m thrilled that he would take time out of his busy schedule (”making friends with foreign dognitaries”) to send me a note —

Pre-Ramble:  Hi, it’s me, Daisy … I’ll be your guest blogger for today. Since Mom’s gotten the new phone, she’s been holed up in the corner, fumbling around with dual thumb dexterity and cursing at the web tutorial. This process could take a while … I don’t mean to be rude, but between you and me, her data-entry skills are pathetic. I don’t even have thumbs and I can type faster than that.

Anyway, today I want to tell you about a piece of legislation just passed by our new freshman senator, Al Franken — a pilot program pairing wounded veterans with service animals. 

Now, I can’t speak for cats (who can, really?) … but from a dog’s perspective, this is an awesome idea!  Frankly, I think that the helping capacity of the canine community is highly under-utilized.  Sleeping in the sun is fine and all, but it gets old (and hot) and there is so much more we can do!

Like humans, dogs have a variety of skill sets and proclivities. Some are wired to swim and fetch, others excel at digging holes and burying stuff, still others shine by tracking, pointing and blogging (like yours truly).  Also like humans, the majority of us have had basic training and can get along in most social situations.

The thing is, while dogs are commonly recognized for performing the requisite “sit-stay-heal-come-down-rollover” maneuvers, we have a whole deeper level of relating that goes largely untapped. Dogs, by nature, are warm, cuddly, affectionate creatures and we are excellent at sharing these qualities.

For veterans who experience debilitating stressors including physical injury, mental health issues, sleeping disorders, and strained relationships with family, friends and colleagues, dogs are just the thing.  Service dogs like Kelly, pictured above, are trained to handle an astounding array of activities like opening doors, picking up objects, or even sensing an oncoming seizure. Who else is going to lick your face, alert you to oncoming traffic, or eat crumbs off the floor?

Face it — we’re irresistible … The dog is a social magnet, a trait which facilitates the perfect “triangulation effect.” You roll into a park or mall with a dog, and before you can throw a tennis ball, all kinds of folks are smiling and coming over to see you. Before long, they’re chatting with you and scratching your dog behind the ears — mission accomplished.

And, in addition to the benefits of functional helpfulness, it is nearly impossible to be sad, angry or lonely when you have a dedicated doggie buddy at your side. Our nearly inexhaustible supply of love and companionship just soaks up all kinds of bad stuff and changes it out for calm, steady, positive vibes. That seems like something a war veteran (or any of us!) could use once in a while.

The Take-Away: This is a total win-win scenario; veterans have an opportunity to experience a better quality of life and dogs have a chance to step-up and work their magic.  All those in favor, say, “Woof!”

Post-Note: If war vets get special “dog tags” it’s only fair that animals inducted into the Canine Corps should get them too … duh.  And, as First Dog and uber-service animal to the U.S. Commander-in-Chief, Bo should definitely be recognized as an honorary member of the group.

Pre-Ramble: We’ve all got ‘em … the movies we’ve seen that rank at the top of some arbitrary scale … the “best movie we’ve ever seen” … or the “worst movie we’ve ever seen” … the stupidest movie … the weirdest movie … Well now, I have a new contender for the “slowest movie I’ve ever seen.” Slow, as in, a plot line and character development that take F-O-R-E-V-E-R to get going … and really, actually never do get going. Which turns out not even to be the point.

O’Horten was billed as a four-star, quirky, Norwegian film (it had subtitles that I honestly forgot were even there, which is kind of unsettling) that chronicled a slice of life of a retired railroad engineer. The two words that should stand out for you here are “quirky” and “Norwegian” — a potentially deadly combination that makes drying paint look like Cirque de Soleil.  Stoic understatement doesn’t even begin to describe it. Never mind that what represents “action” in the film takes place in the cold, ice-blue illumination of a Norwegian winter.

Movie critics loved O’Horten (hence the four-star rating):

• Metacritic.com – “O’Horten is about frustration, patience, kindness and the wildness that lurks in even the calmest hearts.”
• Christian Science Monitor – “A train engineer’s take on retirement slips into the absurd on this surreal Norwegian comedy from director Bent Hamer.”
• Cannes Review on Cinematical.com – “… O’Horten doesn’t have much of a plot, but then again, if you asked most people for the three-act structure of the day they’re having or the life they’re living, I doubt they’d have much of an answer …”
• Roger Ebert – “O’Horten, a bittersweet whimsy by the Norwegian director Bent Hamer, … involves us in the lives of its characters, so we can understand why they are funny while at the same time so distant.”

… frustration … patience … absurd … surreal … bittersweet … whimsy … ?  In all fairness, these descriptors were surrounded by praise for the subtle depth and charm portrayed in the film — which is totally deserved. I’m not talking about good or bad here.  There are many, many endearing and meaningful bits to O’Horten. … It’s just that the movie is … did I mention that the movie was slow? 

And that, is what I will treasure and remember it for. From now on, every movie that I see will be measured and ranked for pace by my internal movie meter according to the benchmark set by O’Horten.  It will be the gold standard of movie slowness until such time as another more superbly unhurried movie displaces it. Until then, the question asked will be, “Yeah, but was it as slow as O’Horton?”

The Take-Away:  Just shining a little light on relativity here. Whether we realize it or not, the events, experiences and opportunities that cross our paths (even the seemingly inconsequential ones, like movies) are part of a bigger picture, a life context that includes relationships to other events, experiences and opportunities, which come together to form our own personal hierarchy of experiences … stuff we can compare other stuff to.

Was O’Horten my favorite movie? No!  O’Horten probably isn’t even in my top 50 favorite movies. Yet, it will reign in my mind as the king of its realm, in all of its stiffly profound and memorable slowness.  And, beyond that, in this age of Top Ten everything, you need to be on the look-out; you just never know when something is going to scream to the top of one of your lists.  I’m just sayin.

Post-Note: Doesn’t O’Horton’s dog (shown above) look like it could be Daisy’s older, spottier, flabbier cousin?

Pre-Ramble:  Hi, it’s me, Daisy – I’ll be your esteemed guest-blogger for today.  Actually, Mom begged me to write the blog because she was all in a panic since it was Monday morning and the blog muse hadn’t kicked in yet. I could tell by the way she was whining and clawing at the refrigerator that things were going to be coming my way. (She always sticks me with the blog when she doesn’t know what to write about.)

To make matters worse, she had just read an article in the New York Times Sunday Magazine (”Say What?” by Rob Walker, 5/31/09, p. 30) about the plethora of opportunities and technological tools available to the individual for expressing themselves to a World-Wide-audience.  The article also eluded to the associated expectation that bloggers will not only have something to say, but that it will be interesting, entertaining and meaningful, and that fresh insights will be shared with alarming frequency. 

… blogs have evolved from something to be updated on occasion to being updated daily, then many times a day, and now social media invites updates hourly, or constantly.” 

No pressure there.

Apparently, a site called “plinky.com” (sounds like a good name for those useless accessory-dogs that fit in purses) generates a daily blog-worthy inquiry; something to spur pithy thoughts, like, “What top five songs should you take on a road trip?” … “Which movie characters would you befriend in real life?” … “Who would win a fight between a bear and a shark?” … or, “What’s the most useless thing in your house right now?”  While those topics are very nice … none of them really speaks to me or the doggie demographic. What about, “List your top 5 puppy names” … “How to win friends and solicit table scraps?” … “Which movie characters would you bite in real life?” … or, “How many ways are there to actually skin a cat?”

The great thing about being a dog is that there is no imperative to be witty. In fact, speaking of speaking, unless someone issues the “Speak!” command, or errant wildlife violates the perimeter, a dog can pretty much keep quiet.  And, while you may be called upon to fetch something or perform an occasional trick, these feats are usually basic and nonverbal. Instead of feeling compelled to yammer on and on on our Facebook page all day, we dogs are inclined – and expected – to sleep. If there’s a sunny patch of carpet and I’m not lying in it, people think there’s something wrong with me.

The Take-Away: Bloggers everywhere should just take a load off. If there’s something compelling to say — say it.  If not — go roll around in the backyard. 

Post Note: Mom wanted me to report out on the bird nest … she wanted me to mention that the Chiplets are getting bigger and featherier, and that the nest was getting really crowded.  Give me a packet of dipping sauce and I can take care of that in 20 seconds.

Pre-Ramble: Hi everyone – it’s me, Daisy!  It’s been forever since my last posting, so I thought I’d weigh in with a few tips for the new First Canine, Bo. According to a recent White House blog, Bo, a Portuguese Water Dog, is a gift from Senator and Mrs. Kennedy to Sasha and Malia. How thoughtful. Apparently, the Kennedy’s have a bunch of Water Dogs over at their house. 

Great name choice, by the way … it’s short and snappy and easy to say in a variety of intonations, like the chipper, “Good dog, Bo!” … or the executive, “Come over here, Bo!” … or the punitive, “Bad dog, Bo!” … or the ominously stark and foreboding, “Bo-ooo.” 

Like myself, Portuguese Water Dogs make excellent companions; they are “soft, cuddly, cute, loving, independent, and very intelligent.”  Unlike myself, Water Dogs are excellent retrievers and and easily trained in obedience and agility skills. Okay, so, Bo, … listen up, buddy … take it from someone older and wilier… here are a few general tips to make the puppy-hood experience a little smoother for you:

• “Sit” is the default mode – If you’re confused about protocol, just lower your rear end into the good-dog sit position and wait for further instruction.
• If it falls on the floor, it is now technically in your jurisdiction and you have full authority to eat it.
• Just spit it out — If you get into a situation where you have inadvertently bitten, chewed, slobbered on, or otherwise made an unwise decision about something that ends up in your mouth, just own your mistake, spit it out onto the carpet, and assume the default position (see above).
• Rookie mistake – pooping in the house. Next to chewing up priceless national heirlooms, this is the least acceptable thing you can do — ’nuff said.
• Dude — really??  I read that the Portuguese Water Dog was originally used in Portugal (duh) to herd fish into nets and act as “ship-to-shore couriers.”  The dogs would ride in fishing trawlers through the icy Atlantic Ocean to the “frigid fishing waters off the coast of Iceland.”  Fishing trawlers?!?  Icy water??  First of all, there is absolutely no reason a dog has to get their paws wet. Secondly, nothing smells worse than a wet dog – except a wet dog with a dead fish in its mouth. Fishing is out, swimming is out, and cold weather is out (unless you have a Land’s End squall jacket like mine; good to 20 degrees below zero).
• Retrieving is a no-go – If the folks want to throw it, they can go get it. Simple. They’ll make all sorts of noise, pointing and flailing around at the rubber chew toy (yawn), but after a few sessions of you not buying it, they’ll eventually go off and busy themselves with something more meaningful.
• Four on the floor — Sounds like your breed likes to jump up on people in friendly greeting. BIG MISTAKE. People hate it when muddy paws trash their best “going to meet the President” clothes and you’ll just end up in your crate.
• Ditto for dancing along on your hind legs with nose above counter level, a.k.a., “counter surfing.” I can’t discourage this behavior more strongly.  Trust me on this, Bo – snagging people food off the kitchen counters is totally a “bad dog” move and will result in a stern talking to, or worse. I once ate two dozen Krispy Creme donuts from an unauthorized location and ended up retching on the front lawn.
• Nobody’s fool — Man-up there, Bo! DO NOT …, I repeat …, DO NOT let the staff dress you up; (that unfortunate picture of you in the Hawaiian flowered thing was all over the Internet …)
• Manipulating humans is a piece of cake – If you want something, just plant yourself in the sit position (see default mode above) and make solid eye contact with the nearest human (if you can identify the weakest link, so much the better). Once you’ve got an intensity stare going, cock your head just ever so slightly to one side and give the tip of your tail a little wag. Humans think this is the CUTEST THING EVER and will fork over treats, snuggles, walks, keys to the motorcade … whatever you want.

The Take-Away: That’s it for now — you’ve got a lot of sniffing around to do. I’m guessing plenty of people have been trying to mark their territory over there.  And, I’m sure the Big House has wifi — when you’ve had a chance to bone up on the latest technology, let’s Twitter.

Post Note:  Get some security clearance, and I’ll send you a couple of fresh chipmunks.

Pre-Ramble: Hi, it’s me Daisy… Mom asked me to write the blog today, since she’s busy working on the book. The door to her office closed, so I guess she means business. Frankly, it’s about time… I’ve been dogging her for weeks to get going on that. I’ll give her at least 20 minutes before I start barking and carrying on.

Today I’m going to bring some much-needed synchronicity to President Obama’s economic recovery plan. While he has called upon each one of us to step-up and do our part, I’m guessing that he and his new pack of advisors have inadvertently overlooked a huge untapped resource – the doggy demographic. Dogs basically lie around all day; why not put that boundless bundle of exuberance and potential energy to work?

Cut to a story that I heard on Science Friday (National Public Radio) last week about a little slice of heaven called the Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory Deep Sea Sample Repository. Founded by Maurice Ewing in 1949, this place collects and archives “sediment cores” - essentially, long tubes of dirt – taken from sites all around the world. A special oceanographic research vessel scopes down through 2 or 3 km of water and 30 to 40 feet into the ocean floor to extract the muddy time-capsules which reveal invaluable historical climate data dating back millions of years. There are currently over 18,000 of them on file in the refrigerated basement repository.

Dirt!!!…  Digging!!! … Barack!! … Hello!?! …We can totally help with that!!!  Personally, I don’t like to get my paws dirty, but my buddies, like Turbo at right, are all over it. Who wants to chew on shoes or rawhide (a seriously disgusting and misguided notion) when they can be digging on the beach and making a meaningful contribution to science?

The Take-Away: Innovation is the name of the game here. If we are going to unearth real solutions to our toughest problems, we need to be willing to think about things in new ways. Whether it’s bringing in the dogs to help with the dirty work, creating new alliances with AmeriCorps, or appointing a Chief Innovation Officer - in this “flat new world” we need a strategy that nurtures the core values of ingenuity and hard work that are the foundation of our heritage as a nation.  

Carpe caninae, Barack! … Seize the dogs!

Brrrrr… Kristen and Daisy in their squall jackets. After a week of temperatures in the double-digits below zero, it’s finally fit for human and beast to be outside. Nothing like a Minnesota winter!

Pre-Ramble: Hi, it’s me Daisy… resident canine and guest blogger extraordinaire. So, tick, tock … ’tis the day before Christmas and Mom is in the other room frantically trying to wrap presents. I want to be supportive, but really, when that is going on, you just have to gather up the chew toys and head out of Dodge.

From where I sit, it’s essentially a logistics issue. Usually short on time, Mom will try to cut corners, which just increases the likelihood that she will cut the paper too small. Then she’ll run out of tape or lose the scissors. And then there are the packing materials. Mom saves “good boxes” all year long for just this occasion. She’s an animal… rifling through the closet  trying to unearth just the right sized box for this or that, but invariably, there is nothing appropriate to whatever it is she’s trying to wrap. She probably wouldn’t want me to mention this, but in addition to good boxes, she also saves “good bags” and “good ribbon.”  These prized specimens reside in the wrapping closet along with rolls of decorative paper and random party decorations. 

If you read the blog posting about “lists” (12/3), you probably have an inkling of the depth of dysfunction going on over here, in this case regarding packaging materials. It’s sad really. And a fire hazard. All those bags and empty boxes filled with tissue - or worse - packing peanuts. I could write an entire treatise on the dynamics of packing peanuts (which are basically inedible, so what’s the point?). Suffice it to say that, since they are also not biodegradable, we corral them into a giant garbage bag until it is full enough to take over to be recycled at the local packaging store. The length of time it takes to rid the premises of the temporarily indispensible, but ultimately unwanted packing peanuts can be staggering. Dragging the unwieldy bag of styrofoam out to the car and then over to be recycled is a multiple-step process and colossal hassle.  Just because we have successfully captured the freakishly wily packing peanuts in a secure container doesn’t mean that they will make it from the house out to the car. Accordingly, just because the bags have been hauled out to the car, doesn’t mean that we’re in the mood to drive them over to the recycling shop. We can have bags of packing peanuts in the back of the Yukon for months, even passing by the recycling shop several times before actually pulling over and shepherding them through the door.

The Take-Away: There’s no take-away here, although, I’m sure Dad would be grateful if you would take away some of these boxes and bags. In her defense, even though Mom has an affinity for boxes, bags and other peripheral packing materials, it’s not like we have 40 cats living in the house  (believe me, you would have heard from me on that). These items are organized, stored in a respectable manner, and generally retrievable upon command. The fact is, a beautifully wrapped present can make a huge difference in the overall impact of the gift exchange experience. According to perennial wrap diva, Martha Stewart, “beautiful gift wrapping sends a message of thoughtfulness that is as important as the gift itself.”  I suggest using bacon-flavored rawhide chips as gift tags .