Italics are mine

Steve Jobs's Stanford Commencement address

I have a confession to make: until late last week I had never watched Steve Jobs's Stanford Commencement address. I'd heard about it and I knew the speech's main ideas (all together now: "Stay hungry, stay foolish!") but I'd never bothered to actually watch the video, in part because I disagree with the way Jobs treated some people and because the way he has been lionized makes me uncomfortable, although he was obviously an extremely successful entrepreneur and businessman. Last week though, someone on my LinkedIn groups reposted the video on her blog without any further comment and I thought that was a very cheap (bad) way to drive traffic to her site - if you're going to piggyback on such a classic video to drive traffic, at least try to add value by giving your perspective on it - so I hopped to YouTube instead and watched the speech there. It just seemed I should watch it at some point, given the hoopla surrounding it, and last week was as good a time as ever.

I liked the speech. I liked it a lot. I liked that it was only fifteen minutes long, and that it told stories, and that it was very well-delivered. I might be the last person on the planet who hadn't been aware that Jobs's biological mother had wanted her baby to be adopted by college graduates, and the adoption to a lawyer and his wife fell through when they decided they wanted a girl. (I wonder if anyone ever told the couple they said no to having Steve Jobs as their child.) In the end Jobs was adopted by someone who didn't graduate from college and someone who didn't graduate from high school, and he seemed to believe this had set in motion his attitude toward college (enrolling but dropping out and instead attending classes that appeared interesting, such as the now famous calligraphy class that led to cutting-edge fonts for the Mac).

The Commencement speech, which you can read in its entirety here, emphasizes the importance of connecting the dots - more specifically, of "trust[ing] that the dots will somehow connect in your future" - and of following your passion because life is so short. I quote: "Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life... Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become."

The compelling, popular message makes it easy to understand why fifteen million people have watched the video so far. I'd truly love to quit my day job and spend my time writing instead - I'm ruining my health trying to keep too many balls in the air, and there is only so much caffeine I can drink before I break down. We all want to hear that we should follow our dreams and take that leap in the unknown. It is probably easier for young college graduates to act on this message than if you are married with children and a mortgage, but since I have none of that either I can't pretend it'd be impossible for me to leave, and I might actually do it at some point.

At the same time, it occurred to me that Steve Jobs, all willing to give advice that he was on that day at Stanford, didn't need to be given permission to quit college and follow his passion. This points to a fundamental difference between him and the 15 million viewers of his YouTube video, myself included. We can still be successful - some of us will probably (hopefully!) be, indeed. Nothing, however, can deal for us with the discomfort of stepping away from the path we had imagined for ourselves. This is something we have to face on our own terms. We can watch YouTube videos ad nauseam and be inspired by their invigorating message, but how many people have you met who said: "I followed my passion because a YouTube video told me it was ok to do it"? Even if the video is by Steve Jobs, I doubt you'll hear that excuse too often. What you might hear, though, is: "I tried and I couldn't bring myself to do it. That work was such a drudge. When the pain from being in a job I hated became greater than my worries about the future, I typed my resignation letter. What a relief! I've felt reborn ever since." 

So maybe if you're the type (like me) to watch inspirational videos, what you might consider doing is to picture your life five or ten years from now if you don't make any change at all. Let's say it's 2017 or 2022, and you're still in the same job, in the same town, working for the same company, with the same group of friends. Are you fine with this idea or does the thought make you want to collapse in a puddle of tears? Once the horror of the present exceeds the fear of the unknown, that is when you'll make a change, all by yourself, and you won't even need Steve Jobs's spirit to hold your hand through it. He wasn't the type anyway.

Phillips Collection: Jacob Lawrence

During the same visit to the Phillips Collection when I discovered myself a liking for Renoir's Luncheon of the Boating Party - see previous post - I stumbled across the breathtaking Migration series of Jacob Lawrence (1917-2000). The Migration series is a set of narrative paintings about the Great Migration of African Americans from the South to the North in the first half of the twentieth century. The series is split evenly between the Phillips Collection and MoMA in New York.

Lawrence's technique, which emphasizes flat surfaces and colors, succeeded in giving the story an aura of universality. (For someone who paints non-representational art and loves the work of artists like Sean Scully and Brice Marden, I certainly like findings stories in other people's paintings a lot. On the other hand, my "paintings-poems" do tell a story - the story of the poems they are based on.)

One thing I forgot to mention about the Phillips Collection is that it was the first US museum showing modern art when it opened in the early 1920s, thanks to the vision of its founder Duncan Phillips. The acquisition of Lawrence's masterpiece in or shortly after 1941 also illustrates his forward thinking, at a time where civil rights were not yet front and center as one of the main issues of the day. The set of paintings rendered the plight of the African Americans resettling in the North very vividly, and made me think about the state of race relations in the twenty-first century. That's art at its best: art that makes you think.

Additional resources are available here, here and here, among other places. And of course, take a good look at the Migration Series itself - it is worth it.

Phillips Collection: "Luncheon of the Boating Party"

I discovered the Phillips Collection during a recent trip to DC. Not only does the collection match my tastes in art - modern art but not contemporary - to an astonishing degree, but it even has chamber music concerts on Sundays from October to May: life doesn't get any better than that. If I ever move to DC this is sure to become one of my favorite places in the city. (The fact that it is located near Dupont Circle does not hurt.)

I'd read before going to the museum that Renoir's Luncheon of the Boating Party was the most famous painting on display, and although I don't care for Renoir's work I decided to make an effort and give the painting more than the two seconds of attention I'd otherwise spent on it. For the first twenty or thirty seconds, I still didn't care for it - my gaze wandered to the other paintings on display in the room and the beautiful Degas in earth red and light green on the other side of the corridor. Then I came back to the Renoir and, lo and behold, something clicked.

Something clicked because I am at heart a story-teller, and I was able to invent a story about the group portrayed in the famous Luncheon. I know my story isn't true: the identity of the people in the painting is well known, and is provided for instance in Master Paintings from the Phillips Collection, as well as online on the Phillips Collection website. But it doesn't matter: being able to make up a story to go with the painting allowed me to connect with it and even - gasp - begin to enjoy Renoir's art.

So here is the story: follow the gaze of the man standing on the left - do you notice that it falls straight on the well-dressed woman on the right, the one who is looking distraught and is being comforted by two gentlemen? I think he just gave her bad news, and his friends are trying to cheer her up while he observes the damage he's done. The seated woman with the little dog pays him no heed - she didn't come with him but with the straw-hatted man who is comforting the well-dressed woman. (The orange flowers in the seated woman's hat match the orange color of the ribbon in the man's hat. She looks like someone who cares about her appearance and would take the time to match some color in her outfit with her boyfriend's.) The seated man with the straw hat on the right is the younger brother of the man leaning against the guardrail - they're dressed in similar ways - and he looks at his brother in perhaps the first glimpse he's ever had of his sibling's true selfish or cold nature. (The kind who makes a woman distraught and then doesn't lift a finger.) At the same time, the younger brother can't help but glance at the seated woman with the dog and wonder how she can be so absorbed in the little animal that she doesn't notice her female friend is about to cry. Maybe she's pretending not to hear the commotion. An alternative story is that she indeed came with the man leaning against the guardrail and doesn't want to talk to his mistress. His mistress in the meantime thought he had left his wife and is heart-broken to realize he hasn't. The woman drinking from a glass toward the center of the picture is watching everything without a word but with a keen eye and will be sure to gossip about the luncheon as soon as she is back in town.

I know, I know, I have a lot of imagination, but I like "Luncheon of the Boating Party" a lot more now that I've been able to associate a story to it!

Bethesda (2)

I mentioned in an earlier post that I was looking into Bethesda as a possible place for the next chapter in my life, so for today I'll describe my impressions following my first trip down to the area, a few weeks ago. Short version: I loved it. I tried to observe with an impartial mind, because I don't want to pack my stuff and move there only to realize that I was blinded by my eagerness to leave the area I currently live in (formerly blighted area of semi-rural Pennsylvania trying to refashion itself into a tourist destination through mass entertainment).

I arrived early in Bethesda and since I had some time to waste before meeting a friend who lives there, I headed for the B&N. You can learn a lot about a place by looking at the books the local bookstore has on its shelves - it tells you all you need to know about the interests of its customers. The B&N Bethesda is also graced by enormous square footage, so there are many books in inventory. The quality of the sections on history, essays and current affairs, for instance (three sections that I have enough experience to judge) was far superior to that in my area's B&N, which is not surprising at all, given the sort of jobs you find in the LeVal compared to the sort of jobs you find in DC/MD. Both areas obviously attract two very different types of people, and then me, who is a mismatch in one but not the other.

The B&N Bethesda was so much better aligned with my own interests and aspirations that it has become a bit of a game, since I've come back, to pick a book I want to buy and see if it is on the shelves of my local store, and then repeat the search for the B&N Bethesda. And the vast majority of the time, B&N Bethesda has it and not B&N Center Valley, which is the most upscale B&N in the area and which I love dearly, since it has been my anchor of literacy through most of my years here. (It only opened in late 2006, about two years after I moved to PA.) Cases in point: The Poets Laureate Anthology and Social Entrepreneurs and the Power of New Ideas both are available in Bethesda but not where I live. I'll get them next time I'm in town. During that first trip, I bought What Light Can Do, my favorite book of essays in a long time,and wasn't surprised after the fact to realize that it wasn't on the shelves in my local B&N. If I hadn't been in Bethesda I might never have heard of it.

Of course, the people in Bethesda were dressed differently than in Blem - Bethesda is a much more upscale town, and women's clothing matches my taste a lot more. For once, I didn't feel out of place - and at the same time I felt I had to be careful to stay at the top of my game, because it doesn't take much where I live to look more sophisticated than the T-shirt/ sweatpants crowd, but in Bethesda women were often more put together (even in an effortless sort of way, not just to go out to dinner) and also very fit. I've heard there are many yoga and pilates studios nearby. Running seems to be a favorite pastime too. While I often see obese people where I live, I saw far fewer when I was in MD, which I take it to mean people can afford better-quality food, although of course what causes obesity is subject to debate.

I think I mentioned in my earlier post that Bethesda has the highest concentration of college graduates in the nation, and I definitely need more of that in my life. The art house cinema deserves rave reviews (just like the movie I saw there, Moonrise Kingdom). I heard people speak French on the street multiple times. Brunch was outstanding (I forget the name of the restaurant, but I think it was American Grill.) I found getting into DC very convenient, albeit a bit expensive and I was impressed by the tour of the Kennedy Center for the Arts, which was very instructive. Being surrounded by performing arts organizations makes me feel happy beyond words. In fact, maybe the Kennedy Center should become my new home rather than Bethesda! (Just kidding.)

All this to say, Bethesda (or the DC area) is a place I'd love to settle down in. Maybe it'll happen and maybe it won't. But most importantly, I'm keenly aware now that I need more people who inspire me to push myself beyond my limits, people who have no time for pettiness or jealousy and go to the effort of lifting themselves up instead of trying to drag others down to their level. I want to be surrounded by people who want to achieve things in life (and at this stage I'll admit I don't even care what it is they want to achieve as long as they want to achieve something) and try to have an impact, even small, to leave the world a better place. I feel very grateful to have found a place that could provide such an environment. I'll be up to it. 

"Italics are mine"

My blog name is a reference to Nina Berberova's autobiography of the same title (or, in Russian, Kursiv Moi). I find it perfect for my blog because:

• I profoundly admired Berberova when I was a high school student and read all her books in the French translations published by Actes Sud.
• She wrote short novels about Russian emigrants in exile, especially in Paris, and experienced oppression and exile herself, first with her companion Vladislav Khodasevich and then alone after he died in 1939. While I can't pretend to the same personal experience, my fiction writings revolve around similar themes of people standing outside the mainstream and facing the consequences of power, especially in Paris. 
• She lived in Paris for 25 years and then in the United States, specifically she spent many years in Princeton, NJ followed by a stint in Philadelphia, where she died in 1993. Not only are there connections between our geographical paths, but we are both people who have put down roots in the United States after being born in Europe (interpreted broadly), with all the challenges that settling down in a country different from our native one presents. This of course makes the choice of our writing themes a natural one.
• Berberova only became famous after the publisher of the French press Actes Sud rediscovered her writings and systematically published them starting in the mid-1980s, when she was well into her eighties herself. The New Yorker stated in her obituary in September 1993: "her life had two bursts of glory, separated by more than 65 years. The 1st was when she was a young poet in revolutionary Russia, with"emotions fed by protest"... The second began after her retirement from an academic career that she had taken up "when my life as a woman was over". In 1985, her novellas about the half-life of Russian emigres in Paris were discovered by a French publisher named Hubert Nyssen." This speaks volumes about having the courage to stick to one's art despite the lack of public recognition.

If you enjoy some of the posts I write, or like the same books I like (most of which are included on my Goodreads page), feel free to leave me a comment below, contact me on Twitter or drop me an email at aurelie dot thiele at gmail dot com.

New Painting (2)

I realized I forgot to schedule a post for this past Monday, so here is a quick one until the new post comes online. It's about another painting of mine I did over the summer, in the same style as In Memory of Jane Kenyon, about which I wrote in March. (As In Memory of... the color lines are completely horizontal in the real painting, but it is hard to photograph a painting like this one without a tripod.)

This painting, also 11x14 acrylics on canvas, is called Anna Akhmatova 1 because the poem I used to create the painting (each rectangle of color represents a word of the poem, for those of you who don't remember my method, with some minor adjustments to my own rules on occasion because of the size of the canvas, and the light pink area on the right represents blank spaces at the end of the lines) is Solitude by Anna Akhmatova, included in the bilingual edition of her Selected Poems.

Here is how it starts, in the translation by Judith Hemschemeyer:

So many stones have been thrown at me,

That I'm not frightened of them any more,

And the pit has become a solid tower,

Tall among tall towers.

 

Aspen Ideas Festival 2011: The Arts and Our Kids

One day I will be rich and famous and I will attend the Aspen Ideas Festival, which is held every year in late June / early July in Aspen, CO. In the meantime, I watch the talks on my laptop. Here is one that caught my attention: it features beloved musicians & directors of the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center David Finckel and Wu Han, as well as Aaron Dworkin, a 2005 MacArthur Fellow who "is founder and president of the Sphinx Organization, a national organization devoted to youth development and diversity in classical music", and moderator Damian Woetzel, the director of the Aspen Institute Arts Program and a former principal dancer with New York City Ballet.

What follows are some of my notes on the talk, for those of you who don't have time to watch the whole thing (it is 54-min long.) The panel discussion started with Woetzel asking what exactly arts education is supposed to be and putting the focus on Dworkin, whose experience "in the trenches" is fascinating. Dworking explained that arts education is related to youth development and that, while the high school graduation rate in the Detroit Public School system is under 30%, the students who go through the music preparatory program - all from DPS as well - graduate at a rate of 100%. In his mind, music education is a quality-of-life issue for young people, in particular because it allows students who come from disadvantaged environments to be given tools to express themselves. Without Dworkin's organization, which is for African-American and Latino students, these students would never have this opportunity because of the absence of orchestras in Detroit's public middle and high schools today - "Mo-town" couldn't happen today.

Han and Finckel then discussed the ways they've developed to introduce kids to the professional music circuit. Han talked about the student training program at the (chamber) music festival Music@Menlo, which she co-runs with Finckel. She also discussed the educational advantages related to having students involved in chamber music rather than symphony orchestras, in particular: communicate, negotiate, organize ideas, etc, since there is no director.

I really enjoyed Dworkin's take on the stereotypes about urban youth and classical music: contrary to what people think, inner-city kids really enjoy the music. Han built upon this idea by saying we shouldn't underestimate kids' ability to understand music and wrongly only focus on music that has entertainment value. Kids respond very well to being challenged too.

Dworkin's video on his organization, about building (much-needed) diversity in classical music, starts at 14:00 in the Aspen broadcast. As incredible as it sounds, there is no African-American member of the NYPhil and the Chicago Philharmonic hired its first African-American musician only a few (seven?) years ago. On a personal note, I only noticed 1 or 2 African-American musicians in the student orchestra when I was in Colorado for the Aspen music festival - diversity is sorely needed in that domain, including in the very town where the Ideas festival takes place!

Around 29:30, Han describes how she discovered classical music in Taiwan - she came from an underprivileged family and her father, a police officer, fell in love with the music after buying a player and records at a market instead of buying a suit as his wife had asked him to. The story about the family piano is also worth watching! What an inspiring woman, who became such an authority and an educator in classical music although no one in her family was familiar with such music before her father decided all four children should be trained in it.

The panel discussion also touches on the importance of putting students in front of a crowd through performances and giving them feedback, especially when they don't have what it takes to succeed professionally as a concert musician. In this age of "everyone is an A student", such candor was refreshing.

The Q&A, which started at 38:30, touched upon audience building and the education component that so many arts organizations now have, such as the Lincoln Center Institute, which, with 1 staff member and 1intern, faces a tremendous workload to convince school principals of the value of music. This was related to a question raised by a woman from DC, who'd like to see music appreciation programs available for all. Han recommended that she reach out to organizations that already have education programs and gave her names. There was also an interesting aside about the national youth orchestra in Venezuela, El Sistema, led by Gustavo Dudamel (see a TED video of the orchestra playing here), in particular the insight that it wouldn't be doable here - there isn't enough money for something of such a large scale - but specific aspects could be replicated in the US, for instance, older students teaching younger ones.

Apparently, Warren Buffett gave the following advice to Michelle Rhee: abolish private schools and start a lottery, because then people would care about arts education in public schools. Sobering, but true. Woetzel also advises to take a look at the website of the President's Committee on the Arts and Humanities, on which he serves.

I thought the discussion was interesting but failed to leave attendees with clear actions steps (with the exception of Wu Han telling the woman from DC which arts organization she should contact to bring music in DC schools). It'd probably have been more effective if the panel members had thought about the audience - and how they wanted their discussion to affect the people in the audience once the talk was over - a bit more, but I learned a lot, especially about the Sphinx Organization and Wu Han's beginnings.

Judging by the few Aspen talks I've had the opportunity to watch online so far, they are notably more substantive than TED talks. It is probably unfair to compare them, since they fulfill different purposes: the TED talks are much shorter and oriented toward mass audiences, while the Aspen talks are more geared toward executives and decision-makers - they complement each other well.

Coming up next on my laptop screen:  "What does the future of live theater look like" (from the 2010 festival) and "Redesigning leadership" (2011). Look for posts about these talks soon, either on this blog or my business/higher-ed one!