Angie Reed Garner

street smarts

angiereed@gmail.com — Thu, 15 May 2008 04:56:17 GMT

street smarts, mixed media on canvas, 24 x 18"

Click image to go see detail shots.

detail

angiereed@gmail.com — Sat, 10 May 2008 11:50:28 GMT

Here's a detail from street smarts, in progress.

Studio climate control issues fixed, I have an AC. It barely keeps up with the heat, with the power off every other hour or so, but it does it (brings studio temp down to 85-90F).

Looavull people, go see my mom

angiereed@gmail.com — Mon, 05 May 2008 17:05:19 GMT

Mom is giving a talk on her art with a slideshow/powerpoint
retrospective... go hear her if you can. She doesn't do this kind of thing often
(understatement) and she's got a real gift-- without trying, she reminds
everyone why this art thing matters in the first place.

Register online here.

"street smarts" in progress

angiereed@gmail.com — Sun, 04 May 2008 16:51:00 GMT

In progress.

24 x 18", mixed media on canvas, unfinished

111 F today. From 1-4 pm, I simply can't think. Studio climate control problems. Computer and software problems, and a dead laptop battery, and no obvious way to replace dead battery. Got thrown out of park (the one with the jogging track) for third time. Overlong, stressy weekend with overworked S. Trying to make travel plans.

Not getting in enough painting time thanks to aforementioned studio climate control problems, and not enough painting time is never good for my temper and sense of perspective.

Too hot during the day to walk Mr. Heathcliff out on the blacktop. He is hanging out in the one cooled room in the house, hourly getting more hyperactive, not understanding why he is not getting his preferred walks on his preferred schedule.

Once the sun is up, it is too hot even to wear him out with fetch on the grass. If I let the heat get to him, just a little, he'd flop over and sleep until it was cooler (like any sensible dog). But I don't want to risk it-- with his black coat, he could overheat fast.

When the power cuts out and his fan goes off, he comes to me and complains.

It's dark now, the temp has dropped to a mere 90 something, and I think it is safe to take him out. Heathcliff claims his brain is going to explode if I don't walk him NOW.

I am pretty sure my brain will explode if he does that sonic howl thing one more time.

The power will prob. cut out shortly.

Scott on the road again

angiereed@gmail.com — Sat, 03 May 2008 05:23:48 GMT

My brother memeselfi took off again on his scooter-- he's in New Orleans at the moment. See photos and read tales on his blog.

He's worked a lot on his scooter, and developed the baggage setup since his last trip. If you can't see, there is an actual saddle for a seat.

a thousand words minimum

angiereed@gmail.com — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 08:01:58 GMT

I didn't take this photo, it ran in Saturday's Dawn. I've been thinking about it for two and a half days now, so here it is. I'm putting it behind a cut because it is 900pix wide or so, but it is sized for quick downloads. Read caption for key info/context.

What I can add to the caption, info-wise, is that mosques put up the temporary tent structures on whatever land is available, so as to accomodate more men. So if a mosque has any yard at all, there will usually be these shade-tents. They blow over in a dust storm-- they serve just to keep the sun off.

I guess the second thing to add would be that it was 100-110 degrees on Friday when the picture was taken, depending on what part of Lahore you were in (how much greenspace there is vs. how much concrete/blacktop).

A third thing to add is that industrial pollutors discharge directly into the open sewer system. That takes the sewage from ordinarily-highly-dangerous re disease transmission to a different level of bad.

The same newspaper reported a few weeks back that a little boy chasing the ball during a cricket game slipped and fell into a drainage ditch. He passed out, and the first five rescuers to try to fish him out of the ditch also passed out. It took rescuers five hours to recover the body.

odd lot of photos

angiereed@gmail.com — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 08:26:31 GMT

A typical commercial building, under construction.

This is the best my cell phone could get of the scaffold structure.

The hanging carpet gives some privacy to the workers' living space.

S.'s campus is gorgeous right now. A dust storm was on the way when I
took this photo, it made the greens pop.

If your car breaks down, this is a pretty common way of getting it home. You
get a rickshaw driver to push your car with his foot while you
steer. Or, you sit in the rickshaw next to the driver and push your car
with your own foot while your friend steers the car. Or you get your
friend to provide the foot.

A tow-rope is the other common solution.

I haven't seen either technique used on an SUV yet. Given the increasing number of them
in Lahore, there is probably $ to be made if you've got a tow truck. I think I've only
seen one towtruck, and it was owned by the city. It was deployed with perfect unconcern for
the condition of the car.

Some guy grading papers in a cafe.

one traffic cycle-- Lahore, Ferozepur Rd.

angiereed@gmail.com — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 07:34:19 GMT

corporate luxury (in progress)

angiereed@gmail.com — Wed, 23 Apr 2008 12:16:28 GMT

This is really not at all done, but I wanted a progress shot to check the composition, so now you get to (have to) look at it too.

corporate luxury, mixed media on canvas, 24 x 18", NOT DONE

Besides this... Urdu lessons, a couple of great bike rides, it is 102 F here in Lahore and I'm somehow fine with ~just~ a fan. Credit to proper desi summer clothes, 10% humidity, and gradual acclimation. Load-shedding now seems normal and on occasion works my last nerve. (I am saving for a battery for my studio-- enough to power a fan and laptop for some hours.)

Reading Ian Almond's The New Orientalists, trying to think how to make paintings that don't invoke an Islamic Other as a mere device to talk about myself/criticize western culture/grind my favorite axe/whatever.

I know in writing this, folks might look at the image above and try to decide if I'm doing Orientalist othering or not. That is kind of a wince-y thing: here is my belly, kick me.

But then, I wouldn't mind if people did think about these issues. And why not start with what I'm doing since your eyes are on it now.

Which is not a request for reassurance, or an invitation for crits in the comments. I'm probably too far gone into my own thing for either to register as anything but static.

All that really helps me these days is for people to share what kind of narrative they make from the image I made. I love that. And it does help me make adjustments, clarifications.

scattered apples

angiereed@gmail.com — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 06:51:34 GMT

Done.

scattered apples, mixed media on canvas, 30 x 24"

Click image to go to website and see detail shots, not that I wouldn't love to
post a ton of them here. :)

another progress shot

angiereed@gmail.com — Fri, 11 Apr 2008 13:18:42 GMT

Closing in on this one...maybe done tomorrow unless I manage an escape from the studio. :)

artist ISO patron

angiereed@gmail.com — Fri, 11 Apr 2008 05:59:51 GMT

...seeking support to see:

GOYA IN TIMES OF WAR

FROM APRIL 15 TO JULY 13 2008

The Second of May 1808 in Madrid: The Fight against the Mamelucks Oil on canvas, 268 x 347 cm Madrid, Museo Nacional del Prado

The largest exhibition devoted to Goya since 1996.

MUSEO NACIONAL DEL PRADO Ruiz de Alarcon, 23 – 28014 MADRID
INFORMATION: Tel: +34 913 30 29 60 Fax: +34 913 30 28 58 / 53 Site: www.museodelprado.es
OPENING HOURS: Tuesday to Sunday and public holidays: 9am - 8pm. Closed Mondays (public holidays included).
ENTRANCE FEES: Full Price: 8€ Concessions: 4€ Pre-booked tickets 9,5 € ( Free entrance for children under 6) Reservations Tel: + 34 902 10 70 77 and on www.museodelprado.es
CURATORSHIP: Manuela Mena, Chief Curator 18th-century Painting and Goya at the Museum
PRESS CONTACTS: Beatriz Carderera Tel: +34 913 30 29 60 Fax: +34 913 30 28 58 / 53
E-mail: beatriz.carderera@museodelprado.es,
javier.sainz@museodelprado.es

To coincide with the 200th anniversary of the events of May 1808 and the start of the Spanish War of Independence, the Museo del Prado is presenting a major exhibition devoted to Goya. It focuses on the two great canvases of the 2nd and 3rd of May 1808 in Madrid which are currently being cleaned and restored, while also analysing and presenting Goya in a broader context. The exhibition features almost 200 works.

Please kindly budget your generosity to include: plane ticket, three days with the exhibit,
hotel, transit, one decent meal a day, and many many many infusions of java.

Artist will negotiate copyist privs with the Museo, offer patron pick of three sketches completed on site, and one painting in oil on canvas developed in direct response to Goya.

more on Pakistan haves and have-nots, and capsicumanuum takes on Obama re Pakistan

angiereed@gmail.com — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 07:41:23 GMT

I love this letter exchange. It says so much.

From Dawn, a daily English newspaper here in Pakistan.

On March 30, Dawn ran a letter from someone who took her child to a hospital for an appointment. The security guard would not allow her servant to come in.

(naukar=servant.)

...As I walked in through the front door, a security guard stepped in front of my nanny and told her she couldn’t go in. When I happened to glance back to check their progress, I noticed my daughter and nanny were standing outside the building and the security guard had his hand out to stop them entering the reception premises.

She proceeds to climb on the highest horse she can find, and she goes high indeed. I'd like to quote you just a bit of it, but you don't want to miss any of the flavor.

My question to South City is: “Have we as a nation fallen so low as to deny entry into hospitals to people who are not in the higher income brackets? Does a ‘naukar’ not deserve respect, is it only for the five-star client of your hospital?” For all the security guard knew I may have been taking my nanny for a checkup in the hospital! But did he even bother to find out. No!

Till this incident happened I had visited South City due to my child’s paediatrician’s change of address. It never occurred to me that status is what South City is catering to and they do not entertain low-income groups. My nanny later asked me if the hospital was for the rich only as they did not let her go in, ‘Baji, do they not want poor people to visit the hospital? Does this mean we cannot get treatment here?’

To the South City Hospital administration – may I remind you: “The Creator has the last word, and if He can make you a prince, it will not take Him long to make you a pauper.”

I left South City not making it to my appointment, feeling very angry, sad and disappointed at the state of affairs, vowing never to visit this hospital again. We are all servants by the way, employed by someone or the other. Some employees make more and are qualified for a particular job, whilst others make far less.

All in all, it does not change the fact that we are at the end of the day all humans, on earth for a short time and reporting to Him, Allah. Once our stint is done here, we will all be turned to dust, with only our actions and words left behind as legacy.

The hurt and humiliation the hospital administration caused my nanny that day will remain for a long time with her. I, too, could have kept quiet and let this incident pass by but for the fact that my heart, in all fairness, does not allow me to ignore the injustice done that day.

So... wow.

But there is more to the story.

Eight days later, in another letter to the paper, a hospital physician defends the policy. This letter is too yummy to miss a word. I'd bold the best parts but it would be more bold than not.

THIS is apropos of Sumyra Kamal’s letter (March 30) in which she deplores the callous attitude of a certain private hospital for not allowing servants/maids to accompany their employers inside their premises. However, there is another perspective from which this incident can be seen which gives a very interesting picture of our so called society of equal opportunities.

I work in the emergency department of a prestigious Karachi hospital where the appalling behaviour of the so called elite makes one wonder whether culture and money can be so mutually exclusive. These elite come with an attitude that they should be given special treatment, seen before their turn, that the staff ought to fall over themselves to attend them, indeed as if it is the hospital staff’s fault that they fell sick in the first place. What is really amusing is that these individuals think that a fake English accent and arrogance would endear them to the harassed hospital staff.

In such situations, the limited resources of the hospital in terms of staff and amenities are seriously compromised by the retinue of servants and maids which are brought in by our elite. The last thing you need in a busy, worked off its feet emergency department is servants squatting all over the floor, for their ‘kind’ employers continue their discriminatory attitude against their servants on the hospital premises.

Not only are they to look after their ailing elderly parents and children but also to do the dirty work regarding bodily fluids and dressing up. In some cases the servants are even required to give blood and platelets. Such people are reluctant to even come near their own relatives, let alone touch their own flesh and blood.

Imagine my horror when I found an elderly, demented lady who could only be touched by her daughters after they had donned gloves. Most of them insist that their patients should be admitted in the hospital for the simple reason that they don’t want to take responsibility of caring for them at home.

What has also been noticed is that most of these families come from a particular housing society of this city to which we laughingly refer as the ‘other side of the tracks’. In fact, the hypothesis that people from these areas are going to misbehave is so strong that I feel embarrassed to tell my staff that I reside in the same vicinity, because it’s a foregone conclusion that ‘Defence Wallay’ and misbehaviour go together.*

Regarding Ms Sumyra’s anguish, I’m sure the hospital would gladly treat the maid, if her noble minded ‘Baji’ would foot the bill. As for the poor illiterate guard, himself a have not of society, he could not have discerned the difference between employer and ‘nauker’ if they had both been dressed alike and walked in together rather than the maid a ‘safe’ distance behind the Baji. As it were, his attitude showed that how with a little bit of power one could be more haughty than the haughty themselves.

Same could be said about the position of various elite clubs/institutions, reference to some of which have appeared in this paper in the past. There too if the employers insist that their servants should be allowed to accompany them inside, it is not for the servants’ feelings but for their own convenience. Their charity stops there, as often these maids are seen sitting on the floor, watching while the family eats, and drinks and enjoys itself. The clubs’ administration would have no objection if the maid sits with the family on the same table.

As some one said institutions are the DNA of a society and are truly reflective of the value it places on various aspects of human life and dealings. At the national level there is a need to uphold and cooperate with the working of good institutions whose rules and regulations have been made with a lot of deliberation and painstaking research.

DR. H. WASEEM
Karachi

*The particular housing society which is home to so many misbehaving families? That's where I live. Different city, same housing society.

* * * * * * *

Meanwhile, Obama. capsicumanuum caught up with him on the campaign trail and took him on about Pakistan. She writes:

I stuck my hand out, shook his hand, and
blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

"Senator, I just want to tell you, I love most of your platform, but I
don't like your Pakistan policy. But I've knocked on doors in three
states for you anyway."

Hoo boy, that got his attention. He was doing that distracted shaking
hands with both hands, talking to his handlers, and signing autographs
all simultaneously thing that politicians do, but instantly upon
hearing my comment turned to me and said "And what do you not like?
And what do you think the policy should be?" I didn't expect him to
pay any attention to me. I was just hoping a handler would hear and
take note that not all of his South Asian supporters are Hindu
nationalists hopping all over his anti-Pakistan rhetoric. (And yes, I
know he has Pakistani friends, but his actual platform is more
hardline on military interventions in Pakistan than either Clinton's
or McCain's, and he has spent the most time of any candidate wooing
Indian voters with promises of support for India in negotiations over
Kashmir.)

Read the whole thing here.

hoofing it in Lahore

angiereed@gmail.com — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 10:11:06 GMT

The past week has been about whelm, both under- and over-. I thought maybe I was doing another round of culture shock (free-floating frustration, paranoia, anger, triggered by "global" disorientation, haha pun, I think I'm too tired to edit this blog entry), but some face time with a friend helped me figure it out. No, some things are just hard.

[Aw shit, I just hit 1300 words, which means this entry is far too long for livejournal. Well… whatever. But I'm heading into the hyperlexic death spiral: every time I find a point of unclarity, I have to add in 300 more words, which generates more points of unclarity, which means I get more and more tired and have more and more to write and I can never, ever, EVER finish this blog entry and get up from this computer. The death spiral is one reason I am a painter and not a writer.****]

ANY WAY. S and I surrendered a car which a colleague of his so generously loaned us for 3+ months. I am doing Lahore by foot, bicycle and autorickshaw.* Also, I've basically transitioned to wearing desi clothes unless I am going someplace hip.**

When I show up on Humber or on foot, and wear desi clothes, my gora privilege temporarily evaporates.

Gora basically means pale/white person. The essence of gora priv is that you don't have to work to prove that you are middle/upper class and should (therefore) be treated well. White skin color passively certifies you as a "have"-- as in, have money, have connections, have power. You count.

It works this way in the States too... if there are a lot of poor whites in the area, then middle and upper class whites may have to present themselves a little more... richly, to get treated in the way that they prefer. Meanwhile, poor whites hold on to their color priv. as fiercely as they can, which usually means shitting on people of color (Cincinnati, I'm looking at you. But only because I know you best and longest.)

Redneck jokes betray middle class anxieties-- what if you get read as a have-not? The markers of white have-nots are exhaustively cataloged and (re-)(rere-)(rerere-)circulated. I have been hearing the same stupid redneck jokes since I was in middle school, they never really change. But they are super-important so white people will know what not to do. It's the flip side of stuff white people like.

If you are black, it may make no difference how miserably hard you work to flag that you are a have. It may be that you may not have. The exceptions prove the general rule—it is international news when Oprah gets a Paris boutique door shut in her face.

Here in Lahore, I read as mixed. The way to avoid this, if I wanted to and I don't, would be to bleach my hair blond. But then I could never go anywhere without a car and probably a driver too. Without those class markers, blonds are read as sex workers.

In desi clothes on foot, my status is low/unclear until I get into a verbal altercation.*** So on foot and in shalwar kameez, I'm getting a wee taste of what the city feels like to a working class woman. Even in my rich and well-policed sector, it's a tough city.

For starters, the sexual harassment. Reminds me of the US in the feminist-backlash 1980s. Lots of men who harass women in a heavily ritualized, practiced, devoted way. These guys do not have other hobbies. They have got no time for other hobbies. Ex.: following me in their cars begging me for my phone number, stepping in way too close at the supermarket, making lewd comments, etc. The most passive variant involves the sad guys hanging out at McDonalds all day, just to stare at women.

Men don't police this behavior in other men, and the harassers do not seem to expect resistance (beyond merest refusal) from women.

It is strange how I put back on western clothes and this bullshit stops cold, even when I'm on foot and by myself. The power of western whiteness! I assume fear stops them, fear that I have connections and am therefore not a safe woman to harass.

In the shopping area in my part of town (think small-lot McMansions), people have or they have-not. The have-nots cannot afford to shop here, and if they are not employed by a have or by a business, usually cleaning, they are present only to get money off the haves: by panhandling, selling small inexpensive items, scams, or offering services. S. bought a painting from one artist, selling small works on paper from a shoulderbag. :) Many get there via organized crime (local term "mafia"), which runs begging rings.

Some people are hustling-- men, not women-- no women that I have been able to spot, anyway, but then they aren't approaching me. One khusra makes the rounds every so often.

Thus a lot of businesses have armed guards so that their customers can bank, shop and eat in peace.

My favorite grocery store does not pay an armed guard to look after the lot all the time-- security coverage is spotty. And I have about had it with trying to get in and out through the panhandlers (mostly boys/young men). I get an edge of panic when I am surrounded and followed, and when I'm on foot I'm not sure when they are going to stop. They aren't sure either. The situation is supposed to come to a natural end when I get in a car and drive away.

Anyway, when I show up alone on foot or bike in desi clothes, these armed guards challenge me. I just don't look like a customer. By challenge I mean block the door holding their big guns in the lazy-big-gun position, saying something that I can't (yet) understand. Probably "get lost."

I get challenged when I go to the bank, to restaurants, to shoe stores (don't laugh, I put in a lot of miles on my feet, and have worn out three pairs of shoes since I've been here. Plus, I need spangly shoes in colors. Ahem.)

I have never yet been stopped at the grocery store, no matter how I arrived or what I'm wearing, but then I go there 3 times a week or more.

These situations usually resolve with me saying "excuse me?" thus triggering a re-evaluation... sooner or later the gora/westerner priv kicks in. The guards realize they put me into the wrong category (have-not) and step back. They may or may not open the door for me on my way back out, depending on how sore they are.

A couple of times when guards fussed, I pushed right on past, confident they were not going to shoot me and it would all get sorted out. Which sounds a wee bit nuts, and this is probably not something my poor mother should read, and I probably ought not to have acted this way. But I do see women acting this way quite often. Such is female gender priv. However poor I look, I am not likely to be read as a security threat requiring violence.

There are a lot of guns here and they just don't signify the way they did when I first arrived. Like, oh a gun. Big whoop.

I'm honestly most afraid of some yahoo firing into the air. The bullets fall down and kill people. I'm the person who gets smacked in the head by the softball just because I'm walking my dog near the park.

If any of this reads like I'm unhappy or complaining about being here, you are missing the point of me. Stop it! I'm only in trouble when there is nothing to paint and write about.

****In keeping with the spirit of the US primary elections, I thought I'd try to write about race, class and gender At The Same Time. No wonder I am now falling over at the keyboard.

*Part of me is relieved. Finally I get to be me again. You don't get to know a city by car-- you only get to know your destinations. I hate it when I feel my street smarts are lagging, starved or stale. And I can't feed my street smarts if my feet never touch the pavement.

I know my wanting to "know" a city, as opposed to merely surviving in it, is a desire that marks my priv. But priv falls into two categories-- that which nobody should have, because it is inherently obscene, and that which everyone should have, because one way or another it sustains life.

This blog began with the premise that I hit the streets, with my art, as an artist. Chicago, 2003. I (re)found myself as an artist that way. Now this is who I am.

**Western clothes, even in the relatively mild heat we've had (80-90 degrees F), are just sticky, smelly and gross. Excepting the dupatta, the salwar kameez is enormously practical. And I get to pick my own colors and prints and fabric.

Pre-made clothes are approx. 10x more expensive than going to a tailor. However, the lush hyper-femininity of the salwar/kameez/dupatta outfit gives me fits (as in, clashes with how I understand myself). Getting clothes made with more masculine lines, with the colors and patterns I love, is one possible solution. All I have to do is face down a tailor who really does know better. Oh, dear.

Hip places want you to show up in western clothes. Women get a partial pass on this, but men don't. It is some kind of surreal to be westerners in the subcontinent and have to deploy gora privilege to get into a chic cafe-- because we are wearing desi clothes.

***Then the English-as-native-tongue thing bounces me up into a privileged category again. Education is a huge class marker. Unskilled laborers can't afford it for their kids, and one has to be very successful in the trades to fund a child through to a professional training program. Higher ed is totally out of the question for trades families as I understand it-- and nearly unaffordable for the professional class. English is the language of the classroom. In other words, except for our beleaguered, plundered public school system which produces an amazing education for some and mere literacy or not even that for others, it is much like the US.

bookgarden (done!)

angiereed@gmail.com — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 03:38:45 GMT

bookgarden, oil on canvas, 4 panels, each 18 x 14"

I seriously want to throw this painting a party, it's been a major part of my life for so long. I began it back in November, in Garner-Furnish Studio. I couldn't figure out how to pack it safely enough in our soft luggage, and didn't want to risk shipping it. S. hand-carried for me, on and off however many planes it took to get here (and through all those airport and layovers).

Below are four details. Click any image to go to the website and see more, if you could actually want more, and give yourself a art partier gold star while you are at it. :D

Here it is shot in the corner of my studio.

See all the work I've completed in Pakistan here.

angiereed@gmail.com — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 13:53:56 GMT

This is what I see when I look out my studio door. Note the floor.

I got my feet wet and walked a loop, so the camera could see the problem.

I don't have lovely cream colored floors with odd foot accents. I have wood-colored laminate floors covered with so much dust that it hurts a bit to turn on the ceiling fans.

When I pick up the book I was just reading just two hours ago, it has a superfine coating of grit that feels like dirty chalkboard.

Home = haven, where one does not have to eat or breathe dust. The dust is becoming a problem.

S. and I have a carefully balanced relationship vis a vis housework. It is basically Marxist: from each according to his ability, to each according to his need. I often have more need than ability. So in practice this means S. does the heavy lifting (mopping, laundry, lightbulbs, dishpiles of avalanche proportion). I pick away at normal-sized piles of dishes, and do the tidying up, and make sure at least one bathroom is fit to be used by guests.

I'm motivated by aesthetics-- if a chore will make the place look better, I'm into it. S. is motivated by Urgency and Danger. If a chore falls in between, we generally neglect it until it becomes 1) a total eyesore or 2) a potential or actual housekeeping disaster. Then the obvious person steps up.

We both love snowshoveling, as it involves Aesthetic Urgent Danger, and we have fought over the snowshovel when there was only one. So now, if we live someplace it snows, we have two.

We both throw our backs into cleaning the place when we are expecting guests. We start at the same time and go until the work is done.

When it is crunch time for one of us, the other covers and what can't get done just doesn't get done. Sometimes places are messy, no big deal.

Oh, I also groom Heathcliff. You can see from his dusty butt in the first picture that the poor guy is in trouble. I can get the hair off him well enough, but the dust?

Anyway. This philosophy of housework has served us well since 1996. Our house gets clean enough for us, and nobody is strained. But the Lahore dust...

I mopped the dust every other day when I first moved here. It was just the kind of aesthetic chore that yanks my crank: painting with water and a very big brush. But the floor didn't stay mopped for even six hours. It felt like a really crappy return for my labor. I could have been painting, for real.

We've tried joint Saturday morning cleaning parties, but it turns out we'd rather do other things on Saturday morning. And by eveningtime, the dust is all back anyway.

Dust is our unsolved problem.

And I will show you something different from either your shadow at morning striding behind you or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust. --T.S. Eliot

Excuse my dust. --Dorothy Parker's epitaph

meet the TOP HUMBER

angiereed@gmail.com — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 14:52:12 GMT

(This post is probably interesting only to bike/bike transit people... but I know there are a few on my list.)

This is Top Humber- the Pakistan-made drafthorse of a bike. This dark green Humber happens to be mine, with my groceries on the back.

The Humber logo is a rearing white horse, but the front fender has this
airplane detail. As it says, Top Humber is THE ALL STEEL BICYCLE.

Humber is fierce, being all steel. No driver wants to hit the Humber.

The rear rack easily handles the weight of a full-grown person and a child.

Humber takes a different kind of riding. See that plush cushy seat? Humber wants you to sit on it and relax, really give it all your weight. If you lean into your hands on Humber, Humber gets wobbly.

The other bikes for sale here are from China. Those are not all steel. I think they may be electroplated paper mache. They look flashy but I wouldn't trust one to hold up.

Humber excels for slow/steady hauling people and stuff. I saw a guy moving 10 crates of motor oil on Humber. The stack of boxes was two wide, five high on that back rack-- it was WAY over his head. That said, he was fighting the load and it was a little scary.

My bike handling skills were just enough to get me and those groceries home. I still practice turns in empty parking lots. Humber is not agile. Humber is heavy.

I paid 4,000 PK rupees/$63.47 for Humber. I usually get charged the special American price for things.

I'm the only woman I've ever seen pedaling a bike here. So far so good, although I'm still nervous. Traffic cops seem amused, they smile and point.

Here's a picture I posted of someone else's Humber a while ago.

Bikes have a way that they want to be ridden, a personality. I learned on a road bike, which is lovely for many long miles of nice smooth pavement and an easy mellow runner's high. I never truly transitioned to mountain bikes when they got popular. I know they are better for potholes and curbs--urban conditions--but I couldn't produce the adrenaline they seemed to want from me.

Riding Humber feels like the Zen aphorism: Before enlightenment, chop wood carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood carry water.

"bookgarden" still in progress

angiereed@gmail.com — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 10:38:14 GMT

Here are the right two panels--

And here is the whole thing. I'm painting them so they do work as one wide horizontal with no spacing, but they may be installed different ways so...

in progress

angiereed@gmail.com — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 10:12:07 GMT

book garden, left two panels (of four), in progress

I saw my first ever wild parrot the other morning, probably a Rose-ringed Parakeet,
sitting on a power wire. No ring around neck and full size, so probably female.

Two other firsts: first conversation in Urdu with people who don't speak any English, first bike ride in Lahore, first Lahore German Shep dog show. All pretty neato cool.

I like Urdu. For some reason my brain is willing to soak it up, maybe the euphony is greasing my mental gears.

Learning about water conservation-- how to wash dishes without running rinse water, how to re-use wash water for houseplants, etc. I've never before lived in a city that really had to worry about water shortages. Portland OR was just getting worked up about it when I left-- brown lawns were the thing to have.

My house has a reserve water tank in the back yard, which automatically fills whenever there is municipal water to fill it. When municipal water does not flow, we turn on a pump. This gets reserve water up to the main tank on the roof, and from there by gravity down to our faucets. We share this reserve tank with the four people who live on the first floor, plus the garden.

The neighbors "upstream" from us have a pool. When they fill/top off their pool, the water does not flow to us. It also does not flow for other reasons, namely, there is not enough water.

Long story short, this water conservation stuff is not theoretical and not about being a good citizen, a good guest in this country, or even a good neighbor. It would be worth doing for these reasons, but that is not why I am hauling graywater out of the kitchen for my palms. It is because there is only so much water in the reserve water tank and it has to go a long way. I never really know how long-- when the water gets cut off, who knows when it comes back on again?

Also learning about war against mosquitoes. Soon it will be too hot for skeeters but right now, it is me vs. them. The house is screened and sealed as best we can seal it. One move to the other side of the world and I have gone from wanting everything organic and nontoxic to "Angie Reed, queen of poisons." I have six different poisons to kill mosquitoes.

It takes one poison, doxycycline (antibiotic), to help me live with the mosquitoes I cannot kill. You can see the doxy packaging in the detail above.

Doxy prevents malaria and elephantiasis. My Pakistan doctor was not very impressed that the US travel clinic put me on doxy.

Actually, he snorted. Then he told me that other medications do a much better job of protecting against malaria. But, since I am tolerating the doxy well and it has other benefits (like, no more freaking sinusitis. WOOT! But I have traded sinusitis for the flu, go me, go south Asia) he gave me his blessing to stay on it.

I don't think my Pakistan doctor is worried about malaria. Actually, I don't think I have met anyone here who is worried about malaria. But then, I have not yet met anyone who gets the level of mosquito bites that I do. I don't think my doctor understands that, as far as mosquitoes go, I am a hot number.

S., who lives in the same house and sleeps in the same bed, has yet to get a single mosquito bite.

I get from two to fifteen bites a night. I got two bites while I was writing this blog entry, in the middle of the day. This is with vigilance and the aforementioned six different mosquito poisons. If anyone comments "mosquito netting!10101!!! I will scream. I will scream, ship me some or tell me where to buy it. Everyone thinks mosquito netting is out there somewhere. But where is it? Nobody seems to know, because nobody really bothers.

I suspect that, whatever factor it is that I have that attracts mosquitoes? Most people here do not have it. It took me over three months just to find personal mosquito repellent in the store-- the kind you put on your skin and clothes. The bottle says a product of research by the US Department of Defence [sic]. I think that means DEET.

People here just don't bother using it, although they are commonly outside in the early evening. I think they are not getting bit.

I was reading about India and sacred cows. It is thought (don't know if it is true) that mosquitoes preferentially bite cows over humans. So if a cow is hanging out by your house? She's protecting your family from mosquito bites/malaria/dengue fever.

Here is a paper talking about cows protecting people from malaria. It is on the internets and must be true.

I told S. that I am his sacred cow. Surely he would have been bitten at least a few times if I wasn't there inciting mad mosquito lust. They do buzz his ears, they just don't care to bite him.

Immediate future holds more house projects to get ready for the heat (it is 86 degrees right now, but that is SO not hot). Bug screening so we can sit out at night/move the mattress outside, and shade screens for back porch, and at least one air conditioner. Probably one for my studio too.

With power outages at six hours per day and no guarantee this won't go higher especially with people using air conditioners in the heat-- we can't just rely on air conditioners for cooling, even after we buy them.

I don't mind no AC right now. I'm happy with a ceiling fan-- I have not even bothered to turn it on today. The house is well-designed and the heat is mostly dry. But it is going to get a full thirty degrees hotter, and the humidity will come. Last summer it hit 122 degrees-- an even 50 Celsius. I am told that, in 122 degrees, your breath feels cool as it comes out of your mouth.

urdu lessons

angiereed@gmail.com — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 09:19:57 GMT

It's probably done.

urdu lessons, mixed media on canvas, 36 x 36"

Want a detail?

Click either image to go to website for more details.

surreal

angiereed@gmail.com — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 09:37:11 GMT

Have the mainstream US news sources ever picked up this story?

The US has bombed another site in Pakistan, since then. Unlike the previous bombing, no Pakistani or civilian casualties reported.

Nobody mentions the war on terror in front of me unless I bring it up. I think they are too kind to put me on the spot.

For the record (as an American living here, going on the record is the merely and minimally decent thing to do) I pretty much concur with what I'm hearing from Pakistani analysts: a pure military solution isn't working and won't work.

While most Pakistanis are enraged at the violence of the militants, it is also completely unacceptable that the US violates Pakistan's sovereignty (i.e. bombs Pakistan) at will.

Some investment in hearts and minds would go a long way. And the bottom line? It would be enormously cheaper.

mad and ouch and sad in Lahore

angiereed@gmail.com — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 13:42:23 GMT

This ran yesterday in Dawn, one of the daily english-language Pakistan newspapers. I found it helpful re understanding some of the obscure whys of US foreign policy that impact the region and world.

One bit, which I will file under "stuff I wish I already knew, and am embarrassed that I didn't."

The dollar’s predominance as the world’s hegemonic currency has its genesis in the 1972/73 US-Saudi agreement to price oil exclusively in dollars in return for US protection to the House of Saud against external aggression or domestic overthrow. This arrangement led to Opec transacting oil exclusively in dollars ever since.

And also:

Hence a rising notion within the royal families that if stripped of its dollar hegemony, the US could be deprived of unlimited credit for waging further wars in the Middle East. In the third Opec summit meeting in Riyadh in November 2007, the issue of the dollar’s depreciation, though not incorporated in the final declaration, was assigned to the kingdoms’ respective finance ministers to study.

Given the de facto taboo on this subject, this is a significant development that may have prompted Bush to make a journey to the Saudi kingdom later in January 2008.

Meanwhile.

It is nearly a truism, whenever a Pakistan news analyst comments on the Lahore bombings, that the war on terror is not working for Pakistan. Musharraf has been the whipping boy, but now is a lame duck. With the new coalition gov't forming up, the pressure (via bombings in the very heart of Punjab) goes on them. And they have got no way not to talk an anti-US line.

Some Lahore smarties are saying that the bombings have sharpened resentment against the militants, and that is where the anger at Tuesday's horror is going.

This is really, really not helping.

I am angry-- and dreading the nightly news when the story breaks here.

We're fine.

angiereed@gmail.com — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 08:37:37 GMT

Another sad day for Lahore.

another progress shot

angiereed@gmail.com — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 13:23:14 GMT

This is urdu lessons, 36 x 36", still in progress. This morning I thought: maybe two more days. But after throwing another day at it? I'm thinking another two more days. :)

another Lahore photo post

angiereed@gmail.com — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 10:37:10 GMT

First is me trying to get with local fashion. In these two pictures I have on a kameez, a dupatta and wide shalwar pants, all at the same time. They do NOT go together, as I am still not ready to do matchy.

Next are even more photos of a typical local scooter. I keep photographing scooters because I am trying to figure out if I want to buy one and learn to ride it, or buy a bike. FWIW I have not yet once seen a woman driving either: they ride on back, usually sideways. But we've been using a loaner car for the past three months, and in a few weeks the loaner car goes away. I have to decide or else decide not to decide.

I did have a recent transportation victory: I took an autorickshaw all by myself. It is amazing what two Urdu lessons will do for your confidence. I negotiated the fare and everything. Everyone everywhere should take two Urdu lessons. :)

Next are some photos from Shalimar Gardens.

I love red doors.

The gardens have been restored at huge expense from utter ruins to ruins that are safe to navigate. Some fountains are working fountains, and the lawns, trees and flowers were lovely. Lots of families, and acrobats practicing. Unfortunately, if you stand still for long...

...the gardens are now a locus for all kinds of criminal activity-- theft, prostitution, aggressive begging: you cannot help but become aware of it all even if you don't get pickpocketed, harassed or solicited. We drew a crowd. People wanted to know what we thought of Lahore, and little girls dared each other to come up and shake my hand.

Lahore has wise children. Unless they are upper class, they are expected to work, keep up with adults and keep themselves safe. Last week I saw a three year old pick up a still-wobbly toddler and haul him to safety behind a gate-- the very second he he saw me coming up the street with Heathcliff. He didn't hesitate, he knew exactly what to do.

Meanwhile, here is a wise baby. Dad left her balancing on the bike while he ran in to the bakery.

If you look close, you can see that the top bar of the bike has been fitted with a small pad for baby to sit on. The kickstands are designed to keep the bike upright, though not stable enough for an adult to use as a chair.