Let there be Light!

How often do you look up? And when you do, how often do you really think about you're seeing? Is it a bright blue sky with wispy white clouds, or an arched cathedral ceiling draped in colorful tapestries? What about a swirling mass of multi-colored jellyfish drifting lazily high overhead in a hotel lobby? Don't believe me? Then you have yet to experience the wondrous work of art by Dale Chihuly that is the piece de resistance of the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas.

This is the first place I came into contact with Chihuly. Not only that, but it was on my first trip to Vegas. The Bellagio was the first hotel I set foot in upon arriving on "the strip", and fountains aside, my breath was taken away by the magnificent ceiling in the lobby (above). Over 2,000 colorful pieces of hand-blown glass adorn the ceiling, which I recently found out cost almost $2 million! The effect is worth it-the sheer magnitude of the installation is mesmerizing. Pieces like this are part of "the norm" for Chihuly: since the beginning of his career in the 1960's, his work continues to gain recognition world-wide, from Vegas to Venice, and innumerable place in between.

Chihuly grew up in Washington state, and attended college at the college of Puget Sound and earned a BA in interior design. He followed with a Masters in sculpture from the University of Wisconsin, and in 1968 won a Fulbright Fellowship to the prestigious Rhode Island School of Design. By the time he graduated his career was off to a great start, and in 1971 he founded the Pilchuck Glass school in Washington, an international school of glass design.

Cruel irony struck only 5 years later. While Chihuly was traveling in England his car was struck head on, causing him to fly through the windshield as shards of glass tore up his face and caused him to lose vision in his left eye. The very substance upon which he was building his career, was in fact the same substance that cost him his vision. He eventually recovered, only to severely dislocate his shoulder while bodysurfing a few years later. This injury compounded with his loss of vision, almost forced him to retire from glassblowing entirely. But not quite.

Chihuly discovered that although he could no longer hold the blow torch, he could still instruct others to create the visions he saw in his head. So he would paint elaborate drawings of his ideas, and working intimately with a team of glass blowers, he instructs them in much the same way that a composer instructs an orchestra; measure by measure, note by note. And slowly the glass takes form.

Chihuly's work is featured in numerous galleries all over the world, with new installations popping up all the time. He has received almost 10 honerary docterates from universities all over the world, and his list of additional awards and accolardes covers over three pages, single spaced. But the press he's received is probably the least impressive part of his oeuvre: it's his sculptures that truly shine.

Experiencing one of Chihuly's glass pieces is a truly amazing experience. I love the constant movement of Chihuly's artwork, especially his lighting. The glass gives the illusion of floating, of twisting and twining throughout itself, giving life to an otherwise static fixture. His work has a dream-like quality to it, an explosion of surrealistic thoughts and colors and images; poetry in 3D.

I find Chihuly and his work to be fascinating a several levels. On a very basic level is work is breathtaking, and has a way of shifting and changing upon each viewing, while never actually moving an inch. But on another level I'm fascinated by Chihuly's dedication to his craft. His physical limitations could very well have caused him to chose another career, but instead he persisted, and merely approached his work in a different way. He said in an interview that: "Once I stepped back, I liked the view" and pointed out that it allowed him to see the work from more perspectives and enabled him to anticipate problems faster. He also described his role as "more choreographer than dancer, more supervisor than participant, more director than actor."

This morning I decided to change the quote that is part of my signature for my work emails, and I found it to perfectly match my sentiments toward Chihuly and his career. It is a quote by Helen Keller, the queen of tenacity and persistance in her dreams: "I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do." Preach on, sister. Preach on.

So why do so many of us hold back when it comes to our dreams? Why do we let subtle pits in the road stop us from continuing onward? Dreams can be fragile and frail things, as easily broken as one of Chihuly's glass sculptures would be when dropped. But dreams can also be filled with strength, taking the shape of infinite glass jellyfish floating above thousands of passersby; they are both strong and fragile. I believe that dreams are all the more beautiful because they are both.

The Mad Hatter

It's no secret that I have an obsession with hats. I always have, and undoubtedly always will. Ever since I was a little girl and tried to start a summer fashion revolution by turning a plastic bucket upside down and placing it atop my head...I was hooked.

Over the years my taste for head-ware has given way to a slightly more refined palate, allowing for my hat collection to flourish considerably. Despite the fact that I'm unable to resist trying on every hat I come across, I'm very picky in my purchases. It's not just any ol' hat that earns the honor of adorning my beautiful crown! My hat collection is eclectic, and some may even consider it eccentric. Which brings me to my most recent purchase...a fantastic red and purple wool hat I found at my new favorite store: a consignment store called Punch in downtown Santa Barbara-a collaborative effort of 13 women displaying their found treasures. 

The second I laid eyes on this hat, I knew we were a perfect match. For one, it was unlike most hats you see in most stores, which means you won't see a hat like this atop most heads bobbing down the street. And when I tried it on, I experienced that feeling you get when you put on one of your power outfits-you know those clothes that make you feel like a million dollars everytime you put them on? This hat made me feel like that, and I knew I had to have it. I was thrilled to hear that it was only $15! Sold. 

Matt was with me when I made the purchase, and as we walked out of the store I turned to him and asked, "Do you think they'll let me into the Red Hat Society with a hat like this?" He smiled and nodded his head, "Sure, babe, why not?"

That got me thinking...I don't really know anything about the Red Hat Society, except the fact that they wear red hats, and usually are quite a bit older than me. So I decided to look into it, to see if I too could be a part of the Red Hat Society. 

Turns out the Red Hat Society is a fairly recent phenomenon. Founded in 1998 by a woman named Sue Ellen Cooper from Fullerton, California, the society began when Cooper gave a friend a red hat on her 55th birthday, and in the card wrote the opening lines from Jenny Joseph's poem "Warning", as an explanation: "when I am an old woman I shall wear purple/ with a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me..." Many more of her friends asked that she give similar gifts on their birthdays, and the phenomenon snowballed from there as an organization for women approaching 50 and beyond. Nowadays there are over 70,000 registered members in over 24,000 chapters in the US and 25 other countries. That makes the Red Hat Society the largest women's social group in the world! 

The goal of this society is to bond with other women as you travel through life. They even have official stores where you can purchase red hats and other society paraphernalia! 

And get this: In 1996 "Hats! The Musical" made its debut, telling the story of how the Red Hat Society started, and how it came to be what it is today. Needless to say this musical is now on my list of must-sees. 

At first I was a little disappointed that I'm only half way there to being eligible as a member of this awesome society of red-hat-and-purple-clothes-wearing women, but then I learned that they have an additional society for women under 50, and they wear pink hats with lavender attire. These color options are not nearly as appealing, but then I figured that since the primary purpose of the Red Hat Society is to promote "fun, friendship, freedom and fulfillment", I'll be able to fenagle my rights to wear my red and purple hat.  

I'm seriously thinking about looking into joining my local Santa Barbara chapter...honestly any club that promotes wearing eccentric hats and living life to the fullest is a club I want to be a part of! And for your enjoyment I've posted "Warning", the poem that started it all, in its entirety. 

WARNING by Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

So I figured...why not start now?!

Sherlock's Last Case

On Friday night Matt and I ventured out to the Circle Bar B Ranch and attended their dinner/show "Sherlock's Last Case". We drove up the coast along the 101 freeway, paralleling the ocean, and watched the waves sparkle in the afternoon sun. When we reached Refugio Beach, instead of turning left we turned right, and headed up a winding, pocked stretch of road into the mountains. We passed several orchards and ranches until we reached the sign with cowboy silhouettes indicating that we'd reached the Circle Bar B. Rows of stables and corrals lined the road as we drove in to park, most occupied by horses gobbling mouthfuls of oats for dinner.

Built in 1939, visiting the Circle Bar B Ranch is like taking a step backward in time-almost 100 years worth of steps backward, to a time when those 60 acres were part of the original Ortega-Stokes 1843 Mexican Land Grant. The ranch was built to be a retreat, and the rooms originally went for $3.50/night! Nowadays it's a bit pricier than that, but if you're looking for a rustic retreat nestled away from civilization, the Circle Bar B is a perfect getaway.

As we wandered through the main lodge and its surrounding rooms, we heard a "How y'all doing" come from behind us. Turning we saw a young man, standing in the doorway of the kitchen with an apron on, grinning at us.

"Did y'all go for a ride this afternoon?" he asked. I looked down at my skirt and heels and shook my head. The man smiled and continued on anyway. Josh, as we quickly learned, was from Ohio and had moved out to the ranch to work as a cowboy only a few weeks prior. He also works in the kitchen on theatre nights, helping prep and serve the tri tip, chicken and chili. He told us about how he loves to ride his horse Elvis everywhere-as a trail guide, on his commute to and from home, and how he wished he could ride him into town, but that he was afraid some animal rights activists might yell at him. We also learned that he loves hamburgers, cola and granola bars (the horse that is, although I'm sure Josh loves all those things as well!)

Me with the burger-loving Elvis

We continued to wander the grounds, and eventually headed into the high-ceilinged lodge- a room decorated with mounted deer heads and other cowboy paraphernalia. To keep with the cowboy theme we bought a bottle of 2008 Gunsmoke Red from Masked Rider Winery in Sonoma- a delightful, medium bodied blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Merlot and Petite Sirah.

We enjoyed our dinner of chicken, chili, tri tip, garlic bread and salad outdoors seated along picnic benches under a canopy of majestic oak trees, basking in the last sun rays before it dipped below the mountains.


After dinner we followed a dusty path down to a barn-the theatre. When they first started doing these shows over 40 years ago, the audience sat on bales of hay. However I'm happy the latter installation of plush theatre seats that are quite a bit more comfortable, and not at all itchy. It was an intimate and cozy setting, with room for about 50 viewers. Being that our shows title was "Sherlock's Last Case", the front half of the barn was decorated to transport us back to 221B Baker Street in London in the late 1800's.


After everyone was seated, the show began. The cast was delightful and the play had more twists and turns than a California Highway, leaving us wondering what would happen next at the end of every scene. Throughout the show gales of wind rustled the trees and agitated a group of frogs in a nearby creek. The cacophony of nighttime sounds from the world outside offered an interesting juxtaposition to the London sleuthing inside, but the actors did their best to keep the audience within their world, inside the little barn.


When the show ended, we braved the wind and made it back to our car to head back out along the narrow dirt road. The surrounding orchards cast wavy shadows about the land, and the moon glowed high over head. Raccoons, field mice and even a couple foxes darted across our path until eventually we reached the highway and headed back south toward Santa Barbara-leaving behind a rustic retreat that I'm sure will pull me back in another month...when "The Girl in the Freudian Slip" graces that cozy barn stage.  

The Tale of the Fig Tree

"The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit." ~Hacidic Proverb

During the past few years I've become increasingly interested in local history, so much so that I'm now a docent with both the Goleta and Santa Barbara Historical Societies! (nerdy, I know) I love learning the stories about the people whose names adorn street signs and buildings; I love visiting historic sites and wondering at how life once was "long, long ago". These relics add layers and depth to a city already rich with history, and I've fallen in love with discovering the answers to these questions. 

So many visitors to Santa Barbara clamor to visit State Street, the Mission, Courthouse, Zoo, Botanic Gardens, or any number of other obvious tourist attractions. And while those are certainly worth visiting, few are aware of this wonder, let alone its story. It greets all who arrive in Santa Barbara by train on a daily basis and although it is the largest of its kind in the country, it is surprisingly unnoticed by most. This wonder is the Moreton Bay Fig Tree at the entrance to the train station on Montecito Street, and its story rivals that of Jack and his famous Beanstalk. 

"The Fig Tree", as it's called by locals, had quite the journey to get to its home in downtown Santa Barbara. Hailing from Moreton Bay, Australia, the seedling made its journey from the land down under by being carried in a tin can by a sailor in 1876. Once the sailor reached Santa Barbara's sunny shores, he gave the seedling to a local girl who planted it at 201 State Street. At this point both the sailor and the girl disappear from our story: the sailor eventually sailed away, and a year later the girl moved away. in 1877 her friend Adeline Crabb and her mother Hannah transplanted the tree to the park where it resides today. At the time it was said to have been as "high as a walking stick". 

But over the years the tree grew, and quickly. Now, over 134 years later the fig towers at 80 feet tall, with branches that span over 167 feet. It is estimated that at high noon, the Fig Tree would provide about 21,000 square feet of shade - enough to cover 16,000 people! Over the years it has drawn some attention from tourists, but has mostly served as a place for the homeless to sleep. It is actually rumored that one homeless man built a mailbox and used 100 W. Montecito as his mailing address, because he was interested in voting and needed to prove his residence.

These are only a few of the stories that surround this great Fig Tree. 

The life of the Fig Tree amazes me - it grew from a scrappy seedling in a tin can, into the largest fig tree in the US. Next time you visit Santa Barbara, you may want to pay a visit to this great tree - every time I walk beneath its great branches, I secretly wish I could read its thoughts, and be able to learn about all that it has seen during its long life. I can't help but think of Shel Shilverstein's "The Giving Tree". To me, the Fig Tree is living proof that even the smallest of dreams can oftentimes grow into something even greater than its dreamer ever intended.  

I found this really cool website while trying to find out more information about the history of the Fig Tree. Check this out to see other amazing trees around the world!