MERRY CHRISTMAS: "i wouldn't quite call it shredding... though i believe the word "tumbling" sums it up pretty well..."

Today.
I am the sorest I have been since my first day of pilates at Vassar with Theresa kicking my butt.

Yesterday,
My first day snowboarding.
EVER

Incredible. In every way.
Incredibly fun.
Incredibly hard.
Incredibly painful.
Incredibly cold.
Incredibly beautiful.
Incredibly fast.
Incredibly unsteady.
Incredibly snowy.

Can I just stress how hard it is to learn, especially for someone who isn't terribly coordinated or skilled in the way of doing things that are lacking friction with the ground. Not to mention I easily submit to the laws of gravity, so hence the bruises and aching muscles.

Besides feeling like I am recovering from being hit by a bus, it was awesome. And despite feeling like I am recovering from a fall from the top of a very tall building, I would do it again in a heartbeat... if it was free... and once I wasn't this sore.

It was simultaneously the most liberating and hardest thing I've done in a long time, and I couldn't think of a better way of spending Christmas morning. Drew had to work 7am-4pm and my lesson was from 9:15am-3:00pm. Perfect. The mountain was empty in the morning. No lines, no "let's-try-out-my-new-gear-that-I-got-for-Christmas" tourists, and tons and tons of new snow. The flakes kept falling, covering the tracks of those that had shredded or fallen before you.

My instructor sucked, but I learned a lot.

I also fell a lot. Most of the falls were great; my forearms or bum hitting the fresh powder. Only once, on what I made sure was my last run, did I bite it so hard that my head began throbbing as soon as I stopped sliding. That was when I called it a day and took the lift back down.

I called Drew on my lunchbreak and he asked, "how is my little shredder doing?"

I responded with, "i wouldn't quite call it shredding... though i believe the word "tumbling" sums it up pretty well... but I am better than I was a couple of hours ago!"

yehaw.

MY FIRST SOLO-SALE!

I made my first solo-sale today at 5:30PM MST today! YAY! It was truly a rush. Pictured above, it is a light-hearted piece by a CO artist Mary Scrimgeour. Her work is highly influenced by math and music. They are highly textured and the surfaces are intensely worked. This work, Black Dog is 20 x 20, she always works on square canvases, and is one of my favorites of her new pieces in the gallery.

Off to gift wrap it and celebrate my awesomeness!!!

mmm cheese mites...

I recently tried a French cheese by the name of Mimolette. It is officially one of my top five favorite cheeses. Made even more fabulous when paired with a 2006 Fleur de California Pinot Noir, though I could see how the strong nutty flavor of the heavenly aged milk would go well with a sweeter wine as well.


Delicious. Okay. But this post is more than just to let you know I eat cheese. In honor of one of my favorite shows, Good Eats with Alton Brown, lets talk about how the cheese is made.

Louis XIV wanted a French cheese to resemble the Dutch cheese Edam (also delicious). Though, in order to make it "French," he decided to color it orange. What a French prick, good cheese though. So this cow’s milk cheese is aged anywhere from six months to two years and stored in a moist environment. It’s turned once a week and begins to develop a hard crater-like surface.

THE CRATERS ARE ACTUALLY THE RESULT OF CHEESE MITES THAT EAT INTO THE CHEESE AT IT AGES. THE MITES (ciron) ARE BRUSHED OFF THE FREAKIN' CHEESE ON A REGULAR BASIS AS TO MATURE THE FLAVOR OF THE CHEESE WITHOUT HANDING IT OVER TO THE LITTLE BUGGERS! BUT DONT WORRY, THEY COME BACK. WHICH CREATES THE HARD GREY RIND AROUND THE YUMMY ORANGE CHEESE.


I mean, I know cheese is aged milk, which could be considered deliciously disgusting to begin with, but do we really need to invite the bugs? to hang out on my cheese? Do bugs really make my cheese taste good? Better than otherwise leaving it alone? Thats unfortunately interesting, though its hard not to think about the creepy crawling ciron in all of my imaginative forms while noshing on the firm wonder that is Mimolette. I guess its a good thing that I was sloshing back a natural anticeptic - Pinot Noir.

Oh how the good things in life only get tastier with age... and mites.

I met utah's indiana jones

The gallery opening Friday night went well, considering the snowstorm that closed I-80 eastbound into PC and scattered cars and trucks along the sides of highways and smaller roads. the storm lasted a little over 19 hours and dumped over a foot or so on our little heads. Despite the chaos that the storm presented our attendees (or lackthereof) with, we had a decent turn out. One sale, many conversations. Overall, I think it went very well.

I wish I could say that the sale was the highlight of the evening, and while it is great, I must confess... the commission I made on that sale cannot compare to the conversation that I had with the father of one of our artists.

He is Utah's own Indiana Jones.

In general, Utahns love outdoors sports - hiking and biking in the summers; skiing, snowboarding, snowshoeing in the winter - but apparently there are quite a few Utahns who dedicate their lives to combing the varied terrain of the state for secret treasures. Some are in search of a particular treasure - the lost Aztec city of Aztlan.

Aztlan is the mythical place of origin of the Aztec peoples. In their language (Nahuatl), the roots of the word Aztlan are the two words: aztatl and tlan meaning "heron" and "place of," respectively. 'Tlan' proper means tooth, and as a good tooth is firmly rooted in place, and does not move, the prefix of this word is commonly used in Nahuatl to denote settlements, or place names, e.g. Mazatlan (place of deer), Papalotlan (place of butterflies) or Tepoztlan (place of metal). The Nahuatl language is often said to include three levels of meaning for its words or expressions: literal, syncretic and connotative. The connotative meaning of Aztlan, due to the color of the plumage of herons, is "Place of Whiteness." The mythical descriptions of Aztlan would have it to be an island, as depicted in the map above.

In the origin myths of the Aztecs, it is believed that their people emerged from the bowels of the earth through seven caves (Chicomostoc) and settled in Aztlan, from which they subsequently undertook a migration southward in search of a sign that would indicate that they should settle once more. This myth roughly coincides with the known history of the Aztecs as a migratory horde that migrated from present-day northwestern Mexico into the central plateau sometime toward the end of the first millennium AD.

The exact physical location of Aztlan is unknown, other than it could have been located near estuaries or on the coast of northwestern Mexico, though some archaeologists have gone so far as to locate the present town of San Felipe Aztlan, Nayarit, as the exact place. Sources of water are important in considering its location, as it is most often considered to have been an island.

While the location of Aztlan is hotly debated, it is believed by some scholars to be in Utah based on studies that have been done (mere speculations if you ask me) of Pre-Ice Age Aztec migration patterns. The map below shows some of these routes.

Turns out, Mormons are actually very interested in this theory that Aztlan is located in Utah. Without getting into too much detail, Mormon history traces lost Israelite tribes (Nephites and Lamanites) through North America. If Aztlan is truly located in Utah, then the myth of Quetzalcoatl, the white god who appeared in the Americas, justifies (in the LDS' mind) the Book of Mormon and its tale of Jesus Christ appearing in the "New World" after his resurrection.

Crazy shit, no? Look it up, there are tons of sites dedicated to this stuff.

Either way, Indiana Jones claims to have found Aztlan.

We started this whole conversation talking about driving in snow. He told me that he drives about an hour from Park City to his parking spot, where he keeps his snowmobile that he rides another 40 minutes to get to his camp. "Camp?" I ask. "What do you do there?" Its where he works... as a treasure hunter. He goes on splunking missions, cave exploring, and plain old Indiana Jones kind of activities. He claims to have found mummies, gold, seer stones, cave writings, tablets with writings on them, weapons, utilitarian objects, you name it, hes found it. "Pardon my skepticism, but if I told you I had a hard time believing you, what would you say?" He said nothing and just leaned over to be able to pull this small orange tupperwear from his pocket. He snapped the top off and dumped a gold coin with a sun symbol on it into my hands. "I never leave home without it. I was robbed once, a lot of my stuff was stolen. Now I keep all of my findings in a trailer in the desert in the south [of Utah]."

All I could do was stare at the coin in my hand. Was it truly over 15,000 years old? Forged by Aztecs? Part of a currency of a lost city? Was this guy a total quack?

My conversation with him went on for almost an hour. He was captivating in the way I would imagine the folks who shoot Planet Earth or an Astronaut would be. He had stories about getting injured on solo expeditions and having to crawl back to his camp, taking days. I could've talked to him for another hour, easily. Apparently, he is documenting his findings very carefully. He takes photographs and works with a team of filmmakers who are in the process of making a documentary film to eventually be submitted to Sundance. So look to the next few festivals for the documentary which I would easily title, "Indiana Jones and The Lost City of Aztlan". Awesome.

He also told me the Mormon Church is very interested in his research for aforementioned reasons. I asked him if he was Mormon and he said no, but the Mormons he was in conversation with said he was Mormon but didn't know it yet, based on the fact that if the research he was doing was conclusive enough, it would justify the history of the whacky religion that is Mormonism.

So was Indiana Jones full of it? Honestly, I don't know.

Frankly, I don't care because it is more fun to think that I spoke with Indiana Jones than a loony from the boonies.

Plus, I like to think that I was holding an seriously awesome, shiny, ancient, Aztec coin.