thank you, Alexandra

Earlier this week, I donated to Goodwill - 9 of the 11 Alexandra Stoddard books I own. Alexandra Stoddard is a designer and an inspirational life coach. She's written books - lots of them.
I purchased quite a few during the 1980's and have read all of them.
Voraciously.
Cover to cover.

Now I'm moving the books on, so that someone else might enjoy and learn from them.

Passing on the volumes was easier said than done, for Stoddard was, at one time -  my improve-your-life / make your-home-a-private-haven-as-well-as-welcoming-to-others guru / mentor/ inspirational maven.

I've incorporated a great deal of her philosophy on life/living as my own. Recently came across the books again on the shelves of my home library and leafed through them. Flashback - to happy memories of the period in my life when, from these books, came guidance for a life lived with grace and style. Suffice it to say that I got my money's worth with the books. Adopted, adapted, trying to stay with the program. Now it's time to pass the books along.

May I share with you some Stoddard wisdom as I interpret it...

To take pleasure in the rituals that make up one's daily routine. Those recurring acts we perform that define a rhythm to our everyday. A cup of tea, served in a lovely china cup and saucer (or coffee poured into a favourite mug). Fluffing the bed pillows. Taking the dog for a walk. Feeding the cat. Opening the mailbox and finding the gift of a card or letter sent to you by a friend. Preparing breakfast. Sitting down to eat it. Opening the blinds to consider the day's weather.  A hot shower. Listening to your favourite music whilst commuting to work. Shopping. Walking. Planning. Running errands. Sitting down. Taking your shoes off at the end of a long day.
Chopping vegetables with a sharp knife. Folding clean laundry. Taking the time to relive and enjoy a memory. Hugging. Laughing so hard that you cry. Doing the newspaper crossword puzzle. Taking a photograph. Making connections.

Stuff like that. And more.

Learning to treasure the little things that render a moment significant. Savoring the sensation of a taste, a texture, a sound.

To celebrate the joy of color - be it brilliant or subtle.

How to be true to oneself. To be radiant, yet modest.

To understand that silence can be golden. And classy.

Alexandra Stoddard emphasizes the importance of creating a home. A place that, more than anything - reflects the personality of its inhabitants. As a designer, she encourages development of the ability to take note of line, color and composition - at the same time, injecting personal meaning into one's home decor. No cookie cutter environment (copied from the pages of Architectural Digest) is as welcoming as a setting that is hand-picked and hand-made. The appeal of mismatch, whether made by conscious effort or accidental. No living, bedroom or dining room 'suits' for students of Stoddard. There really is an undeniable cozy factor that an eclectic decor can evoke, serving to cuddle one's own well-being. Eclectic can also convey a warm 'welcome' to guests.

Besides the art of personalizing one's life and environment, another thread runs throughout her many books - that communication is primary to living a good life with others.
I am reminded again and again of how important words (whether written or spoken) are as the tools to build, maintain and repair relationships. Just as active listening is key to keeping the portal of a friendship open, constant, accessible.

From the time when I began a study of her writings, I came to understand what it means to develop, maintain and grow a friendship. Also - how to be true to oneself by allowing some relationships to run a natural course, diminishing intensity on their own - gracefully. Not to fight the reality that some friendships are destined to fade. Not to be unafraid to put a deliberate end to interactions that prove toxic. To not waste time with poisoning our own greater life purpose with corrosive influences.

Stoddard, as a sensitive, caring individual, intimates how essential it is be a friend who pays attention.
To me, successful communication is a balanced exchange of ideas, thoughts and feelings. 

These, and other lessons are now incorporated into my everyday, and I still strive towards goals set by Alexandra Stoddard's writings. With the passing of more than two decades, the books I own are decidedly oh-so-dated in style - yet the core lessons remain.

So the time has come to clear those titles from the home library. To make room for more books with more lessons. Without a doubt, there will be confirmation of the same tenets.

A fond farewell, then - to my clutch of Stoddard books.
Save for two. This one and this one.

I let them go -
but not without a most appreciative -
' Thank you, Alexandra '

B-O-S-C-O

Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away, I loved Bosco.

Bosco is a chocolate flavored syrup most often added to milk to make: you guessed it: chocolate milk. Instantaneously. Like Nestle's Quik - only much much better. Bosco makes cold or hot milk palatable.
Bosco can also be drizzled (generously) over ice cream for a delectable chocolate sundae.

When I was a kid and gaga over Bosco, my fave way to enjoy it was to forego the glass of milk and pour it straight out of the bottle onto a teaspoon which went directly into my mouth. Oh yeah.

Bosco was a must-have staple in the kitchen of my childhood. Years after I grew up and left home, the syrup was still available on grocery stores shelves. As an adult, I continued the indulgence.

Then, suddenly, one day - Bosco - was - gone. It just up and disappeared off the grocery store shelves. In time, I had to wonder whether it was still being manufactured. For years, I searched in vain for the thick-walled brown Bosco bottle, with a shape and girth something like a laboratory beaker on steroids. That which contained the tasty chocolate syrup within. There were other chocolate flavorings in abundance, both powdered and syrup - but not a bottle of Bosco to be had anywhere.

Time passed, and I continued to hunt for Bosco.

Then the internet became a search tool, and things started to look more promising in unraveling the mystery of the disappearance of Bosco. The internet really IS the super highway, where one can zip along and see new and old things, come across fresh (and even spent) ideas and innovations. The web is a wondrous place to spend hours upon hours, paying attention and learning. The internet can also reunite us with old friends (a special plug for Facebook), places in the past where we once trod - and - food products we once coveted.

On the internet, I found Bosco.

But wait.
Years zip by.
Tastes change.
Palates become more, er, well - shall we say snobby - um, sophisticated.

Now that I am an aficionado of the very excellent cacao offerings of Sharffen Berger chocolate, will Bosco still offer that chocolate high of yesteryear? Or will what has always been the admittedly ersatz chocolate flavor of Bosco finally be fully detectable on my highly developed and discriminating taste buds?
We adults like to think our maturation in all areas of life as an 'upgrade' from the more primitive leanings of our childhood. Yet in too many instances, our grown-up tastes/views are not always an improvement over the kid perspective....

Hmmmmm... food preferences....
I've mentioned time and time again on this blog that in my childhood home, the family ate fresh, from scratch, home-cooked fare every day. Canned, frozen and pre-prepped packaged foods were bought on occasion and considered special treats. I once thought Kraft Mac n' Cheese was deliciouso. No longer. Swanson TV dinners and pot pies were often heated up for weekend lunches, or as an after school snack. To eat one today would find me recoiling at the grease, the high sodium content as well as taking note that any meat product contained therein would yield a suspiciously rubbery chew. The very idea of Chef Boy-R-Dee canned spaghetti grosses me out now. There was a time when I ate it every week. Older and wiser, it's clear to me now that Mrs. Paul's frozen fish sticks are an abomination.

The jury is still out on Bosco. Now that I can secure it, should I or should I not buy a bottle for my larder - at the very least, for old times' sake?

When I fully suspect that a spoonful of the heavy corn syrup brew, with the negligible taste of faux chocolate, might very well prompt - the gag reflex?
Do I still love Bosco?
Do I really want an answer to that question after all this time?

Eh.

For a listen to the Bosco commercial jingle, click here - then on the arrow by the Bosco bottle.

Schematic 18th century engraving of a cacao tree by Dominican priest Jean-Baptiste Labat

Gustave!

Gustave Caillebotte.

My first encounter with a painting by Gustave Caillebotte was decades ago, at an exhibit of French Impressionism in San Francisco. The entire show was amazing, but I was 'floored' (pun intended) by a large piece titled the 'Floor Scrapers' (there are at least two by this title, but it is this one that blew me away).

The painting isn't appealing in the fresh and colorful way of most impressionistic art, nor in any traditional sense of pictorial beauty. Rather, 'The Floor Scrapers' is rendered in monochromatic earth tones. The subject matter is not a landscape, floral or a still life of fruit. What is depicted is a small group of half-naked men busily scraping the old finish off a wood floor. Hardly romantic subject matter.

The imposing size of the painting (40" x 57 3/4") is in itself arresting. The view of their sinewy muscled bodies combined with the dim lighting of the room they are working in - requires one to pause and consider the unusual subject. Taking all that in with this one piece of art - 'got to me'. I was fortunate to see The Floor Scrapers several times again on subsequent visits to the Musee D'Orsay.

Other paintings by Caillebotte grab and hold my attention in the same way. I find it hard to tear myself away...

Gustave Caillebotte was not the most popular of artists to emerge from his era - he was largely overshadowed by the biggie names in French Impressionists: Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir, Cassatt, etc. - whose work he was such a devotee/ supporter. Their influence is evident in his painting, yet Caillebotte's style stands apart.

What appeals to me in Caillebotte's work are the unusual angles, and the way he poses his subjects - many of who stand with their backs to the viewer.  It took years for me to understand that I liken his perspective (in regards to capturing images for painting) - to my own approach to photographing people / places / things.

Once, on a solo trip to London - I (very unexpectedly) happened upon a rare find. The Royal Arts Academy was showing a small exhibit of just Caillebotte's work. Just Caillebotte? I had to attend - and spent a couple of happy hours there, lingering over each painting. One on one. Up close and personal.

For almost a decade, I traveled to the Art Institute of Chicago annually, often several times a year. As a self-professed Caillebotte-maniac, my trips to Chicago would always include a pilgrimage to the Art Institute - specifically to spend quality time with 'Paris Street, Rainy Day'.

For years, a Gustave Caillebotte monograph has been amongst my prize possessions. I treasure it.
Very recently, I found this website. The complete works!?!
Includes pieces I've not seen in a museum or books anywhere in the world.

Nice.

My love and fascination of 2-D art runs the gamut from traditional representational stuff to contemporary color blocks - and back again. For some time now, I go into throes of artful rapture at the sight of expressionistic sketchy minimalist brushstrokes. Views of art change, grow, slip back and forth and between so many movements.

Yet Gustave Caillebotte's solid images of Parisian urban life will always hold a sweet and tender place in my art appreciation heart.