Larry Itliong, the Delano Manongs, and the Delano Grape Strikes

History will be kind to me for I intend to write it.
– Winston Churchill, British Prime Minister

Johnny Itliong talks about his father at the I-Hotel Manilatown Center in San Francisco.

Jonny Itliong talks about his father at the I-Hotel Manilatown Center in San Francisco.

I spent my Sunday afternoon at the I-Hotel Manilatown Center (868 Kearney, San Francisco, CA 94108, 415.399.9580) to see the nearly completed documentary The Delano Manongs: The Forgotten Heroes of the UFW by Emmy Award-winning filmmaker Marissa Aroy. The event was sponsored by the Manilatown Heritage Foundation. I first met Marissa in October 2010 when she came to Stockton, CA, to show her film Little Manila: Filipinos in California’s Heartland, which highlights the history of the Filipino community in Stockton. The Stockton chapter of the Filipino American National Historical Society (FANHS), of which I’m a member, hosted the event, along with the Manilatown Heritage Foundation. At the time, she also included a trailer to her then-current project on the Delano manongs, which prominently features Larry Itliong, the Filipino American labor organizer and leader of the 1,500 Filipinos who walked out of the grape fields on September 8, 1965, which began the Great Delano Grape Strikes of the 1960s and 1970s.

Agbayani Village in Delano.

Agbayani Village in Delano.

Now in the editing stage, the documentary is scheduled to be released this year. To my disappointment, Aroy was not in town, though she had taped an introduction and thank you; however, Sid A. Valledor and Jonny Itliong spoke. Having worked side by side with Itliong and other Filipino American labor leaders, Valledor wrote and published in 2006 The Original Writings of Philip Vera Cruz (Americans With a Philippine Heritage). Cruz was one of the few Filipino Americans to serve on the board of the United Farm Workers Union. I don’t remember how I ended up meeting Sid, but I had attended his symposium on Vera Cruz and my family and I made the pilgrimage to Delano in September 2005. Sid took the group to all the historical sites pertinent to the farm workers’ movement, including Agbayani Village, which was a retirement home built in the 1970s for the manongs – the elderly, single Filipino men who came in the 1920s and 1930s and never married, thanks to the laws at the time that forbade Filipinos from marrying white women. I had since lost touch with Sid, so attending Sunday’s event also reconnected me with this walking history book of that era.

Outside the rooms of Abgayani Village is a courtyard.

Outside the rooms of Abgayani Village. The retirement community was built by volunteers from all around the country and the world.

Jonny Itliong, Larry’s son, drove up from Ventura, CA, the night before attend the event. While he spoke, a slide show of his father played on the screen behind him, and we were treated to family portraits as well as published pictures of his father during the grape strikes and boycotts. During the intermission, I introduced myself to him, explaining that I had read the October 18, 2012, article written about him in the New York Times (“Forgotten Hero of Labor Fight: His Son’s Lonely Quest”). [I had mistakenly thought and told him that I’d read the article in the Los Angeles Times.] I explained that I had e-mailed the journalist and asked that she pass on a note from me. He told me he never got such a note. Later, when he spoke before the crowd, he brought up his disappointment in the article, how it focused on “his lonely quest” to get his father recognized. There was more on the grape strike from the Cesar Chavez perspective, and scant attention was paid on Jonny Itliong’s quest not just to get his father’s name recognized but to widely publicize the truth about why the Filipinos were squeezed out of the UFW. Interestingly, Jonny Itliong reported that the UFW had contacted the journalist and her editors to ensure that she would write a “nonbiased” article [in other words, one that doesn’t put the UFW in an unfavorable light], which she did. When 40 Acres in Delano, the epicenter of labor union activities and early headquarters of the UFW, was proclaimed a historic landmark by the Department of Interior in 2008, Jonny Itliong noted that the UFW did not mention his father or the Filipinos’ contributions. However, thankfully, the park representatives did speak of his father in their presentation.

One of my aunts still picking grapes in her 60s, summer 2005.

One of my aunts still picking grapes in her 60s, summer 2005.

All this is relevant to my novel A Village In the Fields, which I hope to complete and have out sometime in the fall. As Jonny Itliong pointed out, there are many stories about the Filipinos and the Delano Grape Strikes – and they all need to be told. Together these stories will provide a comprehensive history that we need to claim in order to understand ourselves and to guide our future. Whether you are Filipino or not, you need to know about the contributions of Itliong, Vera Cruz, Pete Velasco, Ben Gines, and the rest of the Filipino farmworkers, and how they impacted agricultural labor in California and the rest of the country. They need to be recognized for all the work that they did on behalf of the agricultural workers in this country. All the contributions they made and the hard-fought changes they wrought are a mere shadow today, given conditions in the fields today, which is sadly not unlike those of the 1960s. This state of affairs makes requiring us to know our history that much more important.

Stay tuned. The stories are coming.

Ripe Ribier grapes in September - the jewels in the fields.

Ripe Ribier grapes in September – the jewels in the fields.

Tootsie, Dustin Hoffman, and women

“But I was a better man with you, as a woman… than I ever was with a woman, as a man. You know what I mean?”
– Michael Dorsey to Julie Nichols, from the movie Tootsie

Dress like a tall, strong woman. Platforms help, as do hand weights to keep strong arms toned.

Dress like a tall, strong woman. Platforms help, as do hand weights to keep strong arms toned.

In 1983, the movies Tootsie and Gandhi were both up for Best Actor awards. Ben Kingsley won over Dustin Hoffman. I saw both movies, and while I greatly admired Kingsley’s performance and the movie – and how could you not give an Oscar to Gandhi – I thought Hoffman’s dual performance of portraying volatile actor Michael Dorsey and actress Dorothy Michaels was a tour de force and worthy of the coveted statue. You could feel Hoffman getting into and understanding his female role. Tootsie has remained one of my favorite movies ever since.

I thought about Tootsie recently when a few Facebook friends posted a clip of part of a Hoffman interview from a few years ago that recently went viral. He talked about the premise of the movie coming from a discussion between him and his long-time friend Murray Schisgal, an American playwright and screenwriter, when the latter wondered how a man would be different if he were born a woman – not what is it like to be a woman. Hoffman thought the make-up team should be able to make him a beautiful woman because he considered himself an interesting woman and therefore expected to be beautiful on the outside as well.

You should watch the clip yourself, but basically he talked about how he had missed out on meeting too many interesting women in his life because they didn’t possess the physical beauty that was his – and society’s – measuring stick for approaching or wanting to know these women. He called it a “brainwashing,” and the clip ends with an emotional Hoffman proclaiming that Tootsie was never a comedy for him. No wonder it went viral! First of all, for me, I adore Dustin Hoffman. I think he’s a great actor. You can feel the intensity and integrity in all the characters he portrays on film. It was touching and refreshing, respectively, to see him so moved and to admit to what many men do – determine whether they want to get to know a woman based on her looks. It’s great that he understands the loss of not knowing so many interesting women in the world.

Silver pops against black: Lava 9 earrings (Berkeley, CA), Carmela Rose bangles and Asian Art Museum flower bracelet (San Francisco), and Kate Peterson necklace (El Cerrito, CA).

Silver pops against black: Lava 9 earrings (Berkeley, CA), Carmela Rose bangles and Asian Art Museum flower bracelet (San Francisco), Kate Peterson necklace (El Cerrito, CA), and Museum of Modern Art ring (NYC).

While I congratulate Hoffman on this epiphany, I have to take issue with something that I noticed about the movie and the characteristics and what it was saying to me and to others long before I saw the Hoffman interview clip. I loved the character of Dorothy Michaels. She was a firecracker who spoke her mind and yet was sensitive and wise. However, the two main female characters – Julie Nichols, played by Jessica Lange, who won Best Supporting Actress for her role, and Sandy Lester, played by a pitch-perfect Teri Garr – were not strong women. Julie drank too much and knowingly dated a womanizer who treated her shabbily. Sandy was lovable but had low self-esteem. (Although she finally stuck up for herself in her finest moment in the movie after Michael told her that he never said he loved her: She fought back, proclaiming, “I never said I love you, I don’t care about I love you! I read The Second Sex, I read The Cinderella Complex, I’m responsible for my own orgasm. I don’t care! I just don’t like to be lied to!” She triumphantly turned her back on him and stomped out, with the prized box of chocolates given to Michael by Julie’s father tucked under her arm.

But who was the strong woman? Dorothy Michaels! Who taught Julie to take control and not be a doormat to her director lover Ron Carlisle, played by Dabney Coleman? Dorothy Michaels. When I realized that, I thought to myself that the inadvertent message is that women can’t be strong, or that they need the help of a man to be strong, something that I’m sure was unintended. Maybe others can weigh in on this seeming incongruous message because to be sure there are challenges in the movies to gender stereotypes. For instance, Dorothy lets it loose on Carlisle during her audition for the role of Emily Kimberly, hospital administrator for a popular soap opera, when Carlisle tells “her” she’s not right for the part because he’s “trying to make a certain statement” and “looking for a specific physical type”: “Oh I know what y’all really want is some gross, caricature of a woman to prove some idiotic point that power makes a woman masculine, or masculine women are ugly. Well shame on you for letting a man do that, or any man that does that. That means you, dear. Miss Marshall.” Of course, Miss Marshall, the producer, sports power pantsuits, wears her hair in an androgynous bob, and has a tough swagger, but you expect this cliché in a movie about the sexes.

A close-up of accessories for a mixed-fabric summer dress.

A close-up of accessories for a mixed-fabric summer dress.

At the end of Tootsie, when Michael Dorsey rips off his Dorothy Michaels wig to reveal who he is after a long, rambling monologue, he faces Julie and says: “I am Edward Kimberly. Edward Kimberly. And I’m not mentally ill, but proud, and lucky, and strong enough to be the woman that was the best part of my manhood. The best part of myself.” This is the moment in the movie that references Hoffman’s discussion in the interview clip about how a man would be different if he were born a woman. It seems to me that in imagining what it would be like and putting ourselves in that situation we actually strive to be the best that we can be. We imagine ourselves as the opposite sex to be interesting, strong, and beautiful inside, which ultimately makes us beautiful on the outside no matter who says what.

Tootsie, which was deemed by the U.S. Library of Congress in 1998 to be a “culturally significant” film and preserved in the National Film Registry, still has a lot to say about men and women – our roles and our perceptions. Whereas the American Film Institute ranked Tootsie the “second funniest film of all time” in 2000, Hoffman was adamant in saying that it was not a comedy for him, and in a nod to its cultural significance, his performance is above and beyond the male-actor-playing-a-woman role such as Robin Williams’ Mrs. Doubtfire. I love so many lines from Tootsie and the sentimental-but-wistful theme song “It Might Be You” sung by Stephen Bishop. Now I have another reason to love the movie, thanks to Hoffman’s honesty and his generosity in sharing his epiphany about women with all of us.

A History lesson with my high school BFF

“We’ll be Friends Forever, won’t we, Pooh?” asked Piglet.
“Even longer,” Pooh answered.
– A.A. Milne, English author and poet, Winnie-the-Pooh

Inseparable our last two years of high school, Kimi and I find that time and distance have not impacted our friendship.

Inseparable our last two years of high school, Kimi and I find that time and distance have not impacted our friendship.

When I first met David, I was impressed that he was still close to a friend from preschool and another one who used to live across the street from him and started kindergarten with him. His preschool friend served as one of the groomsmen in our wedding and is godfather to our son, and his kindergartener friend was our best man, who infamously toasted us at our reception with a quote from The Godfather – “May  your first child be a masculine child.” Both named John, they are wonderful people and more importantly friends you can count on no matter what. After first meeting them and discovering how long they had known one another, I held such respect for David. To me, having made and kept life-long friends showed me that he valued genuinely good people and he worked at relationships that were important to him.

In Room T6, we are serious journalists our junior year, 1978-79.

In Room T6, we are serious journalists our junior year, 1978-79.

This is not to say that how long people have known their friends is a measure of their character. But nowadays when everything is so fleeting and many people only see others who intersect in their lives because we’re all too busy – I’ve been guilty of that – it’s touching to recognize when you do have good friends who have seen you through the highs and lows of important times in our lives. It takes a lot of work to maintain those friendships, especially when distance is involved, so to invest in that time and emotional energy is a tribute to them and a testament to friendship.

Graduation, June 1980.

Graduation, June 1980.

Last week I had a short-notice visit from my best friend from high school, Kimi Yniques, who now resides in Boise, Idaho. My good friend Kathy Brackett Verschoor moved away early in our junior year, and Kimi and I were left to being a geeky twosome, inseparable as we sold ads for the school newspaper that year and worked our way to writing and editor positions our senior year. Kimi wrote about sports, having been on the diving and gymnastics teams, while I was an alto in the concert choir and served as the managing editor. Kimi was in the Bay Area for a very brief visit, and we spent hours looking at old pictures and filling in the blanks in our lives for one another. It’s a minor miracle that we became best friends in the first place, as Kimi was and still is a boisterous, outgoing person and I was a painfully shy, quiet, way too serious, bookish person. Somehow we found in one another a kindred spirit. We shared lyrics that meant something to us: For Kimi it was Billy Joel’s “The Stranger” from the 1977 album of the same name, while for me it was Supertramp’s “Take the Long Way Home” from their album Breakfast in America – “Does it feel that your life’s become a catastrophe? Oh, it has to be for you to grow boy.” Such high school angst! But we had each other to work through our angst.

Porterville Junior College graduation, June 1982.

Porterville Junior College graduation, June 1982.

The last time we saw each other was when I was in town for our 30th reunion nearly three years ago. Whereas few friends of mine attended the 25th reunion, which I attended, everyone showed up for the 30th, except for me. While I visit my hometown every Labor Day weekend, David and I celebrate the anniversary of my cousin Janet and her husband, Tim, with a big home-cooked dinner. I missed the raucous reunion party, but a handful of us, including Kimi, got together for breakfast the next morning. And before that? Kimi came out when David and I had a big party at our house after returning from our honeymoon. She was a first-time mom, bringing her infant son Benji, nearly 15 years ago.

Still crazy after all these years.

Still crazy after all these years.

That’s a long time in-between the years and we certainly have flitted in and out of our lives. Once we transferred to four-year universities – Kimi to Fresno State to major in agriculture so she could figure out how to solve the hunger issue and me to UC Davis to write – we pretty much went our separate ways. But a sure sign of good friends is the ability to ignore time and distance, so that when they do get together, the conversation picks up again, effortlessly and comfortably.

Had we gone out that evening, I would have pulled out this floaty gray dress and accessorized with vintage crystals and red accents - shades, lipstick, and purse.

Had we gone out that evening, I would have pulled out this draping, asymmetrical gray dress and open-toe booties, and accessorized with vintage crystals and red accents – shades, lipstick, and purse.

What makes for an enduring friendship is knowing that trust and honesty will always be valued and shared. Kimi was there for me during those emotionally volatile teenage years; we spent countless long nights just talking. We never tired of talking and sharing. She always believed in me. She is one of four friends who read every draft of my novel, including the 1,000-page “ottoman,” and gave straightforward assessments. In fact, she reminded me of the reason I’m in need of one last revision, and now I’m re-energized for that final round.

Kimi is back in Boise. Who knows when we’ll see each other again, but we know we’re a phone call or a keystroke away. I’m lucky for our friendship through the years, but it’s not luck that we are friends. Being open in heart and mind enabled us to find and recognize a kinship. That recognition helps us to honor our friendship, in the face of time and distance.

Crystals abound: End of Century (NYC) necklace made of reclaimed vintage chandelier crystals.

Crystals abound: End of Century (NYC) necklace made of reclaimed vintage chandelier crystals.

Just missing the red lipstick!

Just missing the red lipstick!

Lauren Ari: Art as affirmation of the artist’s existence, Part II

Everything you can imagine is real.
– Pablo Picasso, Spanish painter, sculptor, printmaker, ceramicist, and stage designer

Dictionary Project: "Tickle."

Dictionary Project: “Tickle.”

The Power of mixed media
Lauren Ari’s use of mixed media, as opposed to any one medium, allows her to express what she is trying to say. While the Richmond-based artist likes working with different materials, her foundation is drawing. Working in mixed media, therefore, enables her drawings to be three-dimensional. Throughout her prolific career, Lauren, 46, has produced some amazing projects, as well as collaborative and interactive pieces of art.

Two years ago, she collaborated with an artist to build an eight-foot-tall structure made of clay that resembled an old-fashioned opera shell, which housed a singer and a butoh dancer –performing a postwar Japanese dance that rejected Eastern and Western dance in order to search for a new identity that would establish meaning for a defeated society. Lauren and her co-collaborator invited the community to make parts that would be attached to the structure. “I’m really interested in the interaction,” she said. She likes people to interpret her work by themselves and to bring their past to the experience, rather than being told what the piece means. This is exactly how she wants people to view her Dictionary Project and Bedscapes.

Lauren's Dictionary painting called Mother.

Dictionary Project: “Mother.”

Dictionary Project
Begun in 1999, Lauren’s Dictionary Project was informed by the fact that she wasn’t stimulated in school. Looking back on her education, she jokingly wondered if she could have learned everything from an encyclopedia. Playing with that idea she envisioned getting a dictionary and painting and learning from it. “It just went into motion and moved forward,” she recalled. When she went to the El Cerrito Recycling Center’s free book exchange shelf, she found a “big, beautiful, old dictionary” on the ground. “I’m a really good ‘manifester’ of stuff,” she said, of her serendipitous experience at the recycling center.

Dictionary Project: "Dreaming" - Annie from Annie's Annuals and her seedlings and flowers.

Dictionary Project: “Dreaming” – inspired by Annie from Annie’s Annuals and her seedlings and flowers. Lauren’s murals grace the walls of the well-known nursery in Richmond, CA.

Since the beginning of the project, she has “fallen in love” with the dictionary – its words, the images on the pages, the edges of the fine paper. “I like the contrast between the delicate, old papers and printing, and my intuitive, quick, impulsive, first thought, best thought, down on the paper, don’t edit – boom,” she explained, punctuating each word. “The complement works really well.” The Dictionary Project – numbering some 200 paintings, which are in her own gallery, galleries in San Francisco, and in private collections – is an ongoing project for Lauren, who said, “I can’t get away from it. I just love it.” This project speaks to how prolific she is.

Bedscape: Sleeping with Death.

Bedscape: “Sleeping with Death.”

Bedscapes
In 1997, Lauren was moved by a “brilliant” art show in London that dealt with the topic of sleeping. A quote from Cervantes’ Don Quijote de La Mancha, which was printed in the pamphlet, inspired her, as did the notion of sleep as death: “All I know is that while I’m asleep, I’m never afraid, and I have no hopes, no struggles, no glories – and bless the man who invented sleep, a cloak over all human thought, food that drives away hunger, water that banishes thirst, fire that heats up cold, chill that moderates passion, and, finally, universal currency with which all things can be bought, weight and balance that brings the shepherd and the king, the fool and the wise, to the same level. There’s only one bad thing about sleep, as far as I’ve ever heard, and that is that it resembles death, since there’s very little difference between a sleeping man and a corpse.”

Lauren's Bedscape "quilt."

Lauren’s Bedscape “quilt.”

Lauren was flooded with a lot of images, but she didn’t translate them, along with the quote, until circa 2004 when she began her Bedscapes Project. She embraced the concept of everything being at the same level when one is asleep as well as the ambiguity between sleep and death. The bedscapes run the gamut of emotions – some are tongue-in-cheek, of which bright colors are used to depict humor. But as viewers look more closely, they see that the message is not “funny.” “I think of them as Venus flytraps,” Lauren said. Some are humorous, some dark – with Lauren’s penchant to mix them up. She views them together on the wall as a quilt, involving sewing, quilting, and piecing together. While mostly made out of clay, the bedscapes may move to a different media, according to Lauren. She is still working on them – so far, she has created approximately 30 – for a show planned in May 2014 at the FM Gallery (483 25th Street, Oakland, CA 94612, 510.601.5053).

Bedscape: "War Babies."

Bedscape: “War Babies.”

The subjects or the different “stories” for the Bedscapes Project find her – including her experiences and things that concern her. “War Babies” was made at the start of the Iraqi War. Early on, she would conceive an idea and create a bedscape. Nowadays, with less time and energy, she will ruminate on ideas, although the bedscapes are still intuitive and spontaneous. “I like for them not to feel labored and to just come together,” she explained. “I like it to be somewhat rough or imperfect – with a feeling of freshness.”

Although her art is not labored, it has a certain freedom that’s difficult to get to. She created two bedscapes that deal with the Chevron refinery in Richmond, called “Rooster’s Wake-up Call”: A giant bird is looming over a man in one bed, while two people covered in a black oil slick lie in another bed. A pile of people on a bed is a visual representation of the history one brings when sleeping with another person. For a bedscape addressing global warming, her tongue-in-cheek “solution” was to give trays of ice to a polar bear in a bed. Another bedscape entitled “Sleeping with Death” depicts a woman sleeping with a skeleton. “These are visual poems for me,” she said. “These are things I feel that I can’t figure out, that I feel are too big a subject matter for me to take on.”

Bedscape: "Rooster's wake-up call."

Bedscape: “Rooster’s Wake-up Call.”

Bedscape: "Who are you sleeping with?"

Bedscape: “Who Are You Sleeping With?”

Finding your own way through art
Lauren has spent most of her life volunteering and teaching. Her high school encouraged students to volunteer. “It always sat well with me that you give back,” she said. Lauren is a painting instructor at NIAD (National Institute of Art & Disabilities) Art Center (531-551 23rd Street, Richmond, CA 94804, 510.620.0290), a contemporary studio art program and gallery serving adults with developmental and other physical disabilities. She also teaches at the Richmond Art Center (2540 Barrett Avenue, Richmond, CA 94804, 510.620.6772), a nonprofit arts education and cultural institution, and Great Clay Adventure, which brings clay instruction to schools.

Bedscapes: "The Kiss."

Bedscape: “The Kiss.”

As was the case with the girl at Children’s Hospital (see Part I), she has experienced illuminating moments as an instructor. Lauren was teaching art to a kindergarten class when the teacher approached one girl, who had smashed her clay, and asked her where her penguin was. Lauren intervened and helped  the girl verbalize her thought process. When the girl responded that the penguin was under a rock, Lauren celebrated her out-of-the-box thinking. “That is just as valid; I don’t have to see a million penguins for you to be right,” she said of her initial reaction. “That’s how I’ve modeled my life.”

Indeed, Lauren entreats all artists to not listen to anybody but themselves. “Be okay with making lots of what I call ‘ugly’ art. It doesn’t have to be perfect; you just have to be in there doing it,” she said. She tells students in her children’s classes that being an artist is akin to being an investigator, with artists using their eyes. “There’s no wrong way,” she insists of the creative process. “You just need to find your own way. As long as you’re not hurting anybody and you’re finding joy, just go for it – this is your one life. Enjoy it and see what’s out there.”

Lauren with Bella, the family dog.

Lauren with Bella, the family dog.

Editor’s note: Lauren teaches art classes at her home studio on Thursdays, 7pm to 9pm, called Art Camp for Adults. Each session comprises four classes. Lauren suggests ideas and the group decides on the direction. The next session begins in September 2013. Lauren is also open to teaching art classes one on one with artists who are experiencing creative blocks or those who want some coaching and need assistance in putting their portfolio together in order to apply to art high school or college. She also hosts art events out of her home twice a year. To see more of Lauren’s work and to contact her, go to her website www.laurenari.com.

Lauren Ari: Art as affirmation of the artist’s existence, Part I

The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider’s web.
– Pablo Picasso, Spanish painter, sculptor, printmaker, ceramicist, and stage designer

Lauren at the entrance of her backyard garden.

Lauren at the entrance of her backyard garden.

I met mixed-media artist Lauren Ari, 46, at the Stockton Avenue Art Stroll in El Cerrito this past May. She was selling her framed paintings at the invitation of Jen Komaromi of Jenny K, who is a friend of hers and a fellow former preschool parent. Lauren and I hit it off, and although we had just met, a passerby in the store thought we had known each other for years. The relaxed conversation and easy laughter was largely attributable to Lauren’s honesty and energy. “I’m really honest – perhaps too honest – because my work is that way,” she told me in June, when I visited her at her home in Richmond, a welcoming place that is both an informal museum and sunny garden celebrating her colorful work.

When you look closely at Lauren’s paintings and sculptures, you feel as if you’ve gone – with her permission – into the recesses of her imaginative mind, where both light and dark co-exist. You also feel the frenetic energy that created it and the energy emanating, pulsing from her, which is infectious. “There’s something that’s faster than me, personally; I think I’m behind this energy that is moving me,” she said. “I trust something bigger than myself.” Indeed, Lauren added, “A lot of what I do is very intuitive; I don’t set out necessarily to do X, Y, and Z. Circumstances happen and I follow them.”

The sculpture All Is Love in her studio.

The sculpture “All Is Love” in her studio.

Following the winding path
Creativity was encouraged and ran in the family – her aunt was in ceramics and her uncle is a basket weaver. Her mother was also a creative type and reserved an area of Lauren’s bedroom for making art. She fondly remembers her grandmother’s coffee table books and paintings on the walls of her home, and as a child, Lauren pored over her grandmother’s books on Picasso, who inspired her. “”He spoke to me,” she recalled. By age 15, she was doing performance art with Racheal Rosenthal, called “Doing by Doing,” at the Women’s Building in downtown Los Angeles, where she grew up. She transferred out of public high school to attend a local art school. Although she labeled herself a “square peg,” in this creative environment in which all her teachers were artists she began to identify herself as an artist. “They exposed you to so much,” she said. “I really felt like I was learning for the first time.”

Lauren's flower pots in her garden.

Lauren’s flower pots in her garden.

At the age of 17, Lauren attended the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD). The first year at RISD provides the foundation for all students, and although at the time she admitted that she was not ready to listen and just wanted to be left alone to create her art, Lauren said that she learned “most everything.” While she was at RISD, her parents divorced, which led her deeper into her art. “I was in my own space; art was healing for me,” she recalled. Adding to her burden was the familial pressure of how she would be able to make a living from her art, despite her family’s encouragement to pursue her passion. “I didn’t have enough strength in myself to have faith in what I was doing,” she said.

Tile painting in the garden.

Tile painting in the garden.

She dropped out of college after two years and returned home, enrolling in the local community college and then taking on a variety of odd jobs. Feeling the need to finish school, she moved to the Bay Area upon the advice of a good friend and got her BFA with High Distinction from the California College of Arts and Crafts (CCAC) (5212 Broadway, Oakland, CA 94618, 510.594.3600) and later attended the University of California at Davis, where she earned her MFA.

“Art was my voice and a way for me to ground myself into existence,” she said, reflecting on that difficult time in her life. Many years later, when she was teaching art to critically ill children at Oakland’s Children’s Hospital, one of her students, a young girl, did not want to leave her class to undergo a procedure. She kept putting her hand down on the paper, leaving imprints which reminded Lauren of prehistoric cave paintings. “It was like she was saying, ‘I’m here,'” she said. For years, much of Lauren’s work represented proof that she existed. The act of creating was her way of saying to the world: “I’m here.” Art was her vehicle for staying present. “It was a big moment for me to really see myself,” she said.

At home with her daughter Mirabai.

At home with her daughter Mirabai.

The Impact of motherhood on the artist
Lauren experienced another revelation when she gave birth to her daughter, Mirabai, in 2006. Until she became a mother, Lauren didn’t realize how consumed she was with making art. “I didn’t question it [my art] as much. It was who I was, what I did, and I just gave myself over to that,” she said. “It gave me my purpose; it gave me a place to be and to ground.” Whatever energy she had she shifted to raising her daughter. “Having a child later in life was a very humbling experience for me,” she said. During that time, she realized – in a “shockingly painful” way – how imbued she was in her desire to be constantly creating.

“I have a lot more spaciousness now,” she said. Instead of excusing herself to work in her studio, she allows herself the luxury of having long conversations with people. She engages in activities that she has never done before, and she and her poet husband, Daniel Ari, and daughter do a lot of dance and movement together as a family. Lauren has since slowed down with her work. “I’ve just become a lot more relaxed,” she said. Before her daughter’s birth, she had already accomplished many of the things she felt she needed to do as an artist, including having several of her pieces included in the Achenbach Collection of the De Young Museum (50 Hagiwara Tea Garden Drive, San Francisco, CA 94118, 415.750.3600) and a two-person show at the Klaudia Marr Gallery, a well-known gallery in Santa Fe. “I succeeded in the outside world and those were all great things, but now I’m trying to figure out how to get back to my practice,” she said. “I’m trying to figure out what’s next.”

Lauren's sculptures in her studio.

Lauren’s sculptures in her studio.

Editor’s note: Lauren teaches art classes at her home studio on Thursdays, 7pm to 9pm, called Art Camp for Adults. Each session comprises four classes. Lauren suggests ideas and the group decides on the direction. The next session begins in September 2013. Lauren is also open to teach art classes one on one with artists who are experiencing creative blocks or those who want some coaching and need assistance in putting their portfolio together in order to apply to art high school or college. She also hosts art events out of her home twice a year. To see more of Lauren’s work and to contact her, go to her website www.laurenari.com.

One of the many murals in Lauren's backyard. You might recognize her murals at Annie's Annuals in Richmond, CA.

One of the many murals in Lauren’s backyard. Her murals grace the walls of Annie’s Annuals Nursery in Richmond, CA.

Behold the summer bouquets, Volume 1

The earth laughs in flowers.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson, American poet, essayist, and lecturer

For the first time in three years, we had a dry spring. The previous two seasons, which were subjected to rainy springs, my garden underperformed in terms of production and size of blooms. Whereas I used to get three bouquets from one clipping session in the side yard, I was lucky to get one bouquet a week – and those bouquets were anemic looking.

A bountiful summer - three bouquets from one clipping.

A bountiful summer this year – three bouquets from one clipping of the side yard.

This year, my chocolate cosmos is as tall as I’ve ever seen (I’ve always had trouble getting the plant to last more than a season, so this healthy production is a bonus). My beloved dahlias are towering and full of multiple, strong buds. The dinner plate-size dahlias are living up to their potential. Upon learning that Costco had palettes of big dahlias, I snapped up four plants and tore out a patch of poppies and bachelors buttons to make room in my crowded side-yard garden for more dahlias.

Mother's Day bouquet for my mother-in-law: Calla lilies and watsonias. My gardening neighbor separated her watsonia bulbs and gave them to us.

Mother’s Day bouquet for my mother-in-law Ann: Calla lilies, Peruvian lilies, love in a mist, hydrangea, and watsonias. My neighbor who loves to garden separated her watsonia bulbs and gave them to us. (In the background, my favorite painting in our house, Lamp Lady, by Gary Stutler, www.garystutler.com).

For the past four years, I have donated weekly summer bouquets for our kids’ school auctions. This is the first year I have donated for my son’s middle school. It’s a great and easy fundraiser, which brings money to the schools and only costs me the time to put the bouquets together and deliver them to the winners’ porches. I enjoy sharing my garden’s bounty with family and friends – and auction winners. I enjoy creating the bouquets and delivering them. I delight in the joy that these flowers – the earth’s laughter – bring when I give them to people who truly appreciate Nature. I experience Zen moments when I survey the garden, prune and deadhead plants, clip new blooms, and especially create the bouquets. I’ve celebrated Mother’s Day, birthdays, and anniversaries with my flowers. I’ve brought flowers for friends who are grieving losses. When we have guests, I arrange a small bouquet on the dresser by the guest bed in our fourth bedroom. I’ve thanked neighbors who have taken care of our dog Rex with flowers. And I’ve given flowers for no occasion at all.

A June bouquet for our middle school auction bid winner.

A June bouquet for our middle school auction bid winner.

I learned how to make a bouquet from David, who inherited his home’s garden from the previous owner, Joe, who had a green thumb. The yellow dahlias, which are late summer bloomers, have been in the yard for decades, and faithfully come back summer after summer. David likes more greenery in his bouquets, whereas I have a penchant for “stuffing” the vases full of dahlias and more dahlias. Through the years, I have branched out and planted different kinds of flowers that are long-stemmed and ideal for bouquets. My go-to nurseries are Annie’s Annuals (740 Market Avenue, Richmond, CA 94801, 510.215.1671) and East Bay Nursery (2332 San Pablo Avenue, Berkeley, CA 94702), though I’ve snagged dahlias from Trader Joe’s, and, as I’ve mentioned earlier, Costco.

A late June bouquet for our middle school auction bid winner. The deer kept away from the front-yard gladiolas this year!

A late June bouquet for our middle school auction bid winner. The deer kept away from the front-yard gladiolus this year!

To pay homage to my garden, I’m sharing my bouquets from this summer on my blog. Enjoy! If you have a garden, share it with your family, friends, and neighbors. If you receive a bouquet, give a hug to the gardener. Spread beauty and joy!

Embroidered flowers  and navy eyelet are fashion's summer bouquet.

Embroidered flowers and navy eyelet are fashion’s summer bouquet.

Lava 9 (Berkeley, CA) chunky ring and hoop earrings, and reclaimed vintage necklace by M.E. Moore (Gorgeous and Green, Berkeley, CA).

Lava 9 (Berkeley, CA) chunky ring and hoop earrings, and reclaimed vintage necklace by M.E. Moore (Gorgeous and Green, Berkeley, CA).

Antique purse from Bellingham, WA.

Textures in green and blue, complemented by golden accessories. More texture from an antique purse from Bellingham, WA.