Reality Check January 11, 2018

I return to the subject of grief. 

Over the holidays, I received a book called “Boundaries” from my sister.  She bought a copy for herself too, as we both have struggled with troubling family situations that had no obvious solution.  At the end of the day, it was incumbent on each of us to simply step back, realize that we were not in control of anyone other than ourselves, and let go.

I seem to have weathered too many of these challenging family problems, and I would have thought that by now I would be immune to their trauma – a devastating divorce, then a remarriage and a death, then my daughter’s plunge into drug addiction.  Responding to addiction in a child – what a boundary challenge that is!  

The book stirred up a new problem that I had not seriously heeded.  I had swept reality to the far-back of my mind as I swirled in the vortex of grief over my daughter.  This new challenge is to let go of the hope of developing a deep relationship with a man I care for.  He has moved on to another relationship, and I now have no choice but to acknowledge his decision and to move on, too. 

I don’t know how to “do” grief, despite its recurrence, but I do know that somehow I can muddle my way through and eventually make it to the other side of acceptance, tranquility, and even joy.

After the death of my second husband, I needed to find a way to heal, and I turned to yoga.  That was exactly twenty years ago this month, and I have been a yogini ever since.  Now, I renew my commitment to this practice, and hope that it will bring me the same strength I found years ago.  I am sure that it will.

Inflection Point January 10, 2018

Once again it is January, and once again I have a little break in the action to renew and reflect.  This past semester was as intense as I had expected, and not just for me – all of us limped across the finish line on December 18^th.  This was the last semester in which our courses were prescribed; spring term brings choices, but making decisions is not my strong suit!

I know why I am struggling:  I am thinking about what I want to do when this agony/ecstasy of school ends and I find myself without its rudder to guide me.  Most graduates will take a job in a traditional architectural firm, learning the ropes as their career develops.  But I’m not “most graduates” – at my age I feel that I need to carve out some niche quickly so that I can hit the ground running.  Now, I am taking a moment to contemplate and catalog ideas for the future.

One option would be to abandon the city and move to Point Reyes Station full-time, perhaps joining the practice of the architect who designed my home there.  This has so many pluses!  It would involve small projects and residential architecture, learning from a friend and master, being fully integrated in the community, living at my little piece of heaven, with the horses clomping about, and working out of my studio.  Perhaps I could even carve out a pre-fabrication residential business, creating clever, net-zero residences, and prototyping them right on my land.  Wouldn’t this be a lovely way to spend the next two decades of my life?

But there remain tugs to San Francisco and the bevy of wild opportunities this city provides.  I know that I would enjoy set design as it couples my love of opera and ballet with my love of design.  But how does one move into this area, maybe by apprenticing with the technical director at SFO?  Building scientific exhibits at the Exploratorium or Cal Academy of Sciences is another idea: again, integrating my knowledge of science with my interest in design.  What about trying to work at SFMOMA in their architecture and design department, a more “scholarly” endeavor that sounds absorbing and exciting?  Or perhaps apprenticing with one of my amazing teachers, designing installations or public art, entering design competitions.  This has a ton of appeal, as I would continue to be a student, be fully engaged, and maybe even have the opportunity to turn an idea into physical reality.

So, there is a lot to consider, and the opportunity to explore will come with this summer’s internship and with thesis preparation next fall.  What a journey this is! 

In the mean time, I am excited about my course work for the term, and looking forward to another healthy dose of architecture abroad, either in Berlin or in Mexico.  What a lucky woman I am.

A (very little) pause in the action November 22, 2017

I am sitting on the window seat in my cozy kitchen to take a break from the intensity of this semester.   I have shoved aside the Building Energy homework, the papers to be read and written for Architectural Theory, the drawings for Analysis, and the renderings for Studio.  For a few moments, I want just to pause and to reflect.

My “post-retirement” journey as a student of architecture continues.  This past summer, under the auspices of California College of the Arts, I spent three weeks drawing in Rome and two glorious (but hot) weeks exploring architecture in Japan.  Then followed a three-week intensive studio, which proved dissatisfying for a number of reasons.  Yet all of this got me pumped up for the fall, so I put in a request to take the full set of courses, including Studio 3.

This year, the theme for Studio 3 is collective housing for seniors.  Each of us had to choose a very narrow demographic, and I selected single, female visual artists.  I designed a neighborhood of detached individual living pods with shared dining, wellness, and studio centers.  It is a rather complicated scheme but seems to be panning out.

Studio should be the centerpiece of the architectural curriculum, but Studio 3 is my least favorite course, and I attribute that entirely to the instructor.  He and I butted heads on my very first “desk crit”.  As it happened, that evening my book club met and they sympathized when I lamented that I was going to drop out because, "If I can’t survive Studio, what is the point?"   But I needed another ear and reached out to my ex-husband.  He is a surprisingly good listener, and by the end of our conversation he said, “You can’t let one guy ruin what you’ve set out to do and worked so hard for.”  I got back on the saddle, and now the end of Studio is in sight.

But it has not been easy.  I do not feel intellectually or emotionally safe with this instructor, and as it turns out, none of the other students do either.  He is abusive, either through design or cluelessness, and we are all suffering.  Indeed, one young student has even developed stress cardiomyopathy.

Fortunately, the other three classes are superb, and with each of these I’m on an incredibly steep learning curve.  My theory teacher is a goddess and my analysis teacher is a god.  My energy teacher is whip-smart and lots of fun.  And so I will continue in the spring semester, looping back to take Studio 2 in addition to three other classes, and hoping for inspirational and kind instructors.  Perhaps next summer will bring another opportunity for study abroad and a chance for an internship.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  Later today I get on a plane for Minneapolis to spend this holiday with my sister Mary and my daughter Annie, who is living in Minnesota, in and out – and back in again - of yet another rehab.  Our visit, like this little respite to write, will be all too brief.

Jeannette's Wisdom July 11, 2017

I am often struck by how my friend Jeannette can hit the nail on the head.  I have known her for more than thirty years, and I can turn to her when I just need to let someone know I am struggling.  She is the kind of person who is in touch with her own feelings.  She also pays attention to sage ideas of others, such as  “as we get older, we shift from doing to being”, or “when we near the end of life, we may have to be content with just looking out of a window”. 

Well, I said to myself, this will have to be one helluva great window! 

And this all brings me to Point Reyes Station, a speck of a town on Route One, north of San Francisco at the junction of the American and Pacific Plates and the epicenter of the 1906 earthquake.  Thirteen years ago, in my quest to have a home in the country, I bought a plot of land and built a simple home on a horse pasture in this little community.  I also included a small guesthouse, built initially with the hope that my father might move there (he had a stroke, unfortunately, and never could), but also accommodating friends and family who could enjoy this magnificent wilderness with me.  I am off the information grid out here – no internet, no TV, no phone, and no cell phone service.  It is my own little Tassajara retreat, complete with endless hiking, daily yoga, swimming in Tomales Bay, and deep sleep.

In the ten years since the house was completed, my stays out here have typically been very brief, as I was always juggling work, school, and Annie’s commitments.  But in the past year, I have spent longer and longer stretches of time.  I settle into someone else, it seems. I talked to Jeannette about this, and her insight is that when I come here, I let go of my achievement side, the need to perform, to succeed, to push new boundaries.  Indeed, I am being and not doing. 

And talk about view!  I have that helluva great window!  I overlook a large pasture with horses (not mine) and a few farm buildings, with the Inverness Ridge and its attendant fog looming in the background.  Herons, badgers, bobcats, hawks, foxes, and frogs come by.  The grass in the breeze is mesmerizing. I have everything I need.

Just back from Rome, I have settled in here again, and as I plunk myself down on the deck, I realize that my decision to purchase this land and to build this house, as stressful as that whole process was, was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

On Agassi July 9, 2017

You might think that Andre Agassi and I have nothing in common, and you would be right, almost.  But for a short time, he and I were under contract with the same literary agent, and that was how I became aware of his memoir “Open”.  As readers of this blog know, I tend to follow men’s tennis, but I hadn’t picked up his book until I happened upon a used copy from the library’s book sale a few months ago.  It is an open-hearted and compelling account of this champion’s struggles, and I couldn’t put it down. 

Agassi’s journey is wrenching and inspiring.  Forced to play tennis by his ambitious and athletic father, he was then sent to a Florida tennis academy, which he also loathed.  His escape was to break into professional tennis at a young age and to coalesce trainers, coaches, and friends into a team that enabled him to survive the grueling rounds of training and tournaments.  He speaks to the issues of family, of meaning, and of retirement.  Of course Agassi’s retirement came at a young age, but the transition for someone whose entire life is a professional sport must be much more difficult than it is for us boomers!

Turns out, it wasn’t.  He had met and married Steffi Graf, had children, and started a foundation to launch a charter school.  He was ready to let go because he had built a life that was far more meaningful than tennis competition.  (I suppose it didn’t hurt that he had won seven Open championships as well as a gold medal in the Olympics and had made one of the most spectacular comebacks in the sport.)  He quotes Nelson Mandela, “No matter where you are in life, there is always more journey ahead.”  When I despair of this or that, I will meditate on these powerful words.

Back from Rome July 8, 2017

For two years I looked forward to taking a three-week study-abroad course called Drawing Rome, an elective offered by my school.  My drawing ability isn’t that great, and this opportunity to gain some proficiency in free-hand architectural representation, whilst learning about one of the most historically and architecturally important cities on earth, really appealed to me.  Plus – Italy – what’s not to like?  

Yet I found myself somewhat disappointed, and now that I’m back I’m trying to make sense of the whole experience.  Was it worth the time?  Yes.  The money?  Not so sure.  What lessons can I draw from this?

I was actually expecting to improve in my artistic skill – fancy that! – and I had assumed that evolution would happen through a course of instruction, constructive criticism, and practice.  But there was no actual drawing instruction (save one guest lecture) and very little criticism until the final project.  We did practice several hours a day, but it often involved subject matter that held little inherent interest for me: statues, sculptures, fountains, or the interiors of Renaissance villas.  I am a slow draftsman, and rarely was I able to complete something to my satisfaction in the time allotted.  It was very frustrating, though I admit I’ve probably gained a little facility and a smidgeon of confidence despite my complaining.

I also hoped to learn a lot about Roman history, and this I did, as both instructors were very knowledgeable about Rome.  Still, that aspect was underplayed and disjointed.  I kept wondering what all the younger foreign students were gleaning from this.  To quench my thirst, I did extra reading and made independent side-trips to some of the sites I found most compelling: Ostia, the imperial fora, and the Mussolini monumental buildings in a district called EUR. 

I loved perusing the historical maps of Rome (by Nolli and Lanciani) and visiting the ancient aqueducts and the Aurelian Wall.  I enjoyed sharing an apartment with my artist friend Gail, who is not a student but allowed to join us.  I looked forward to our morning coffee in the Jewish Ghetto and our warm outdoor evenings of wine, Roman pizza, and grilled artichokes.  I liked getting to know my classmates and teachers better.

When it comes right down to it, Rome is intense.  (Of course, the daily 6-mile walks in 90-degree heat added to the oppressive feeling.)  With its 2700-year history, its layers of ancient buildings, cleverly crafted out of concrete, brick, and marble and buried under other layers from subsequent centuries, it is all hard to take in.  It is also a contradiction: while the Roman Empire built baths, theaters, forums, libraries, and sports arenas for the benefit of the common man, its violence toward people and animals was almost unspeakable, and I came away with a very bad taste in my mouth for the “glory that was Rome”.  Granted, this was an empire of amazing infrastructure and creativity, but at what price to humanity?   

Grandchildren, not mine May 25, 2017

Most folks who make it to retirement age have grandchildren on the brain.  They either have grandchildren and dote on them, or they want grandchildren to dote on.

I have to confess that until recently the idea of a grandchild was not something I spent time pondering.  After all, my own daughter is only 23 and not yet in a position to take on this challenge.  But I am starting to appreciate how powerful this draw can be, and I am letting in a little hope - just a little - that maybe someday such a blessing will come my way too.

My sister Mary has two grandchildren now, Misha, age 4, and Sula, about to turn 1.  Mary lives about 15 minutes away from them, by choice, and is able to see them several times a week.  I see how these little ones have taken hold of her heart and how such joy has enabled her to weather a divorce when it moved her to be closer to them. 

Last weekend the nephew of my first husband visited Point Reyes with his wife and their two-year old son.  How fun to see the little guy pet and feed horses for the first time, to go to the ocean, and to run away from the waves.  And how odd a feeling it was to be there with my first husband, with whom I had no children, waving goodbye to that next generation and the next after that – not ours to claim as our own, but with love and hope for their future.

Time to Travel May 15, 2017

I made a commitment to myself for 2017 that I would travel, no matter what else was going on in my life.  The prior three years had been fallow, but Peru over the winter holiday reacquainted me with my wanderlust.

Over spring break, my artist friend Gail and I journeyed to Mexico for a week.  We began with four days in Mexico City, followed by two days in the Yucatan.  The plan from my point of view was simple:  architecture, architecture, architecture. 

I don’t know why it has taken me 60+ years to get to Mexico City, but it won’t take that long to return!   What an amazing and exciting city this is!  With only a 4-hour flight from San Francisco and a 1-hour time difference, visiting is as easy as going anywhere in the US, yet more exciting because of its different language and culture. 

Gail and I made the pilgrimage to three Luis Barragan structures, including his home and studio and the very impressive Chapel and home of the Capuchin sisters.  We went to the obligatory Frida Kahlo blue home and the amazing anthropology museum.  I dragged Gail to the Unesco World Heritage site of UNAM, the University, with its 60s architecture and glorious murals (not to mention Candela’s Cosmic Ray Pavilion!).  We schlepped out to Teotihuacan on what proved to be the equinox, accompanied by half the population of Mexico City who came too to climb the Pyramid of the Sun on this important day. 

Perhaps the most fun of all, I’m somewhat ashamed to admit, was our inn, the Red Tree House, located in a lovely residential section with good restaurants. Each morning we were greeted by mouth-watering breakfasts and other guests as we discussed our plans for the day, and each evening we returned to a few glasses of wine and conversation.  We made new friends.

From there, we flew to Merida for two days of Mayan ruins –Uxmal and Chichen Itza – and some obligatory last minute, late-night shopping. 

A few weeks after the Mexico junket, my friend Janie and I drove down to LA to meet our buddy Chieko for the weekend.  This trip was art, art, art!  Actually, there was quite a bit of food too, and of course, a lot of talk. 

Now I am gearing up for two big architecture trips, first to Rome (drawing) and then to Japan to study residential architecture.  I’m very excited and very grateful to have these opportunities. 

Taking it slow April 6, 2017

After reluctantly dropping out of Studio 2, I met with my advisor Andrew to plot out a strategy so that I might stay on track with my class.  I had already deferred for one year to recover from my daughter’s trauma, and I was hoping to not lose too much more time.

He said that perhaps I should take it more slowly, that the turbulence of my daughter’s disease might continue, and that fewer courses could be enough to handle. 

I think this was very wise advice.  I am now slated to take only three classes in the fall, and I will not be joining my classmates with Studio 3.  I will be a year behind as they charge ahead.  But I am beginning to think that Andrew has thrown me a lifeline – indeed this is exactly what I wanted, a way to study architecture at a slower pace that dovetails with my full life and my responsibilities as a parent.

Thank you, Andrew!  Thank you, CCA.