escapetonewyork.net

01.24.2012 a puppy to pass the time

2012-01-24T10:15:00.001-05:00

More Miami to come. Technical difficulties plague me once again, which necessitate a complete wipe of my laptop. My photos are safe, this time, but I won't be able to access them until the wipe and software reinstallation. Wintry weather is the perfect time for hiding out and editing photos. Instead I've been spending the time teaching my dog to appreciate (read: tolerate) winter gear. She's such a sweet and clever girl, it didn't take long.

01.19.2012 miami (three - the delano)

2012-01-19T11:23:00.001-05:00

The Delano in South Beach. We were taken to dinner there by one of Hooper's dealers. I think I might have accidentally photographed the Basel party for Whitewall or some such art mag. Whoever they were, they were super sweet people, holding back the crowd at one point so I could get a clear pic of the skull. I'm afraid they thought I was the event photographer. Wish I knew who they were so I could pass on some of the fun pics I didn't show here because, well, they just aren't moody enough for my purposes. Fun, bah!

01.17.2012 NYC, we need to talk

2012-01-17T08:44:00.000-05:00

From: Jen
NYC

To: NYC
NYC

Re: The Weather

Dear NYC,
For some time now, I have been meaning to speak with you about what you're doing with winter this year. I have a little experience with you, and I know it can be brutal - the howling winds that whip across the streets, the bizarre tundra that is the West side, the piles of snow that never seem to go away. I know the deal. But come on. What gives you the right to pack a winter's worth of icy winds into one week. And the snow? Yes, the weeks of muck that follow a good snow really suck, but they always feel worth those magical hours of a big downfall, especially the overnight ones, where you talk yourself into taking a 2am walk (because you just kidded yourself into thinking THIS is the one they would cancel work for), just so you can make the first footfalls on the blanketed sidewalks, the first to fall back into your ridiculous snowdrifts. Those magical moments make your godforsaken, dark and depressing winters worthwhile. But COME ON! Icy winds, endless night, and for what? There's no magic left, NYC, no snow. You're going to have to work a little harder to keep me here. (And I'm being nice about not even bringing up the whole cost of living thing... you know, how you told me that the pain in the ass of making my bajillion dollar rent every month would be easily compensated by all the excitement, the thrill, the cache, and the OPPORTUNITIES you would offer. We'll leave that for another day. It's too damn cold to type anymore.)

Sincerely,
Me

01.16.2012 miami (two - the fountainbleu)

2012-01-16T11:37:00.001-05:00

Fountainbleu

01.14.2012 miami (one)

2012-01-14T12:40:00.000-05:00

01.13.2012 the lands of palms

2012-01-13T10:39:00.002-05:00

I don't particularly like warm weather, but I do like sunlight, especially when trapped in the dungeon of New York winters. After too long with no break from NYC, I was lucky enough to have Hooper's business needs offer us a double respite in the past couple months. I spent a few days each in Miami for the art fairs in December and most recently, LA this past weekend for his solo show at Skidmore Contemporary. My health was most mostly good to me in Miami, though I spent one day hunkered down in a fluffy white bed. In LA, my luck was not so good, but it being a car culture, I was able to rest in the passenger seat between destinations, and I squeezed a couple nice naps reclined in the California sun, which is like no other. I wish we could have stayed longer, but Hooper's job only allowed a couple days' escape.

Not surprisingly, my camera was in front of my face for the majority of both trips (except when I temporarily lost it; panic ensued). I'm super-excited to pass on my LA pics (I love LA), but I feel compelled to begin with Miami because it happened first, and as someone recently described me, I'm an i-dotter and t-crosser.

01.01.12 no grandiosities required

2012-01-01T19:43:00.001-05:00

I've always found New Year's Day to be bleak, and Resolutions bleaker still. They seem to say your life, your self are not good enough, and maybe just maybe this year you will become the better you you always meant to be. I think we should all just keep doing more of what we're doing well and not be assholes to one another.

12.29.2011 bye, sweet sweet boy

2011-12-29T19:42:00.000-05:00

RIP Galileo 12.29.11

12.20.11 time to breathe

2011-12-20T08:53:00.000-05:00

I was recently able to spend a week in Miami with my husband, who had to go on business during the yearly art fairs. I slept in a big soft bed, watched crappy tv, sat on the beach, ate amazing food, and looked at art... so much art. I have many photos, of course, which I will share soon, a few weeks too late to be of interest to anyone but you, dear faithful readers.

11.15.2011 treats on her toes and spots on her nose

2011-11-15T16:46:00.001-05:00

Pippa learning self-restraint.

11.09.2011 pippa's story

2011-11-09T08:53:00.001-05:00

The idea of getting a new dog crept in a while back. I need more exercise, I need company, and most importantly, I just missing having a dog in the house. Hooper and I are "dog people." Always have been. When I see dogs on the street I just want to pet them all.

Finding a healthy, happy adoptable young dog in the city is no easy task. I wanted to go through a rescue organization because I like that the animal has already been screened, in a sense, for the many problems that might arise from adopting an unknown, untested dog from a shelter. The foster can tell you so much more about the dog, and equally important, the foster and rescue organization can determine whether you are a good match for the dog.

My research had waxed and waned. I was in the wane, having lost energy for the search and having been disappointed that any dog I looked into had already been adopted. I had temporarily given into Hooper's idea that "our dog should find us." I tried to be patient.

A few weeks ago, I was in a Bank of America using the ATM after a not altogether pleasant doctor's appointment. A woman entered with one of the cutest, happiest looking dogs I've ever seen. She came towards me with a big smile, then headed off in another direction. I tried to hurry through my transaction so I could meet her. Another woman entered the bank and saw her, bent down to pet her and started asking the usual questions. I overheard the dog's handler say that she was fostering the dog, and you've never seen someone move so fast. I bent down and the dog came right to me with these giant batwing ears, the goofiest puppy wiggle-wag, and a pile of affection. I was smitten.

The process to adopt her took a couple weeks. I raced to submit the application, so we would be first for consideration. Most rescue dog applications are properly extensive and thorough. The process took a couple weeks. First, Hooper had to meet her and fall in love with her like I did (no problem there), and of course, we had to get to know her better. Then the rescue organization** had to review and approve our application. Then the foster did a home visit, reported back to the organization that we could provide a good safe home for the dog, and then she was ours, but not before a ride to New Jersey in an odd October snowstorm to sign the adoption contract and get her final shots.

We named her Pippa after Pippi Longstocking, but changed it to Pippa because it's easier to say and sounds more fluid. We were aware the name was used in a movie we both liked, was a poem by Robert Browning, but we had no idea there was royalty involved. We'll forgive the royalty for stealing our name.

I was, and still am, in heaven. There's nothing as curative as puppy play, puppy snuggles, and watching puppy grow and learn. I will share more about her as time goes on, but I promise this won't become a "Mommy blog"!

**More info to come on the rescue organization and Pippa's amazing foster mom.

11.07.2011 oh, pippa

2011-11-07T13:08:00.000-05:00

I swear I didn't pick her just because she's so darn photogenic. Also, isn't the resemblance uncanny? One of her many nicknames is Pig Piggy. The story of our fateful meeting to come (I promise). I've been busy looking after this one and a new exciting development.

11.03.2011 meet pippa

2011-11-03T19:02:00.000-04:00

Meet Pippa, the new object of my devotion, stealer of my heart (and my slippers, and socks....), playmate, snuggle piggy, and sidekick. She's unbelievably clever, attentive, affectionate, easygoing, enthusiastic and one of the quickest learners I've ever had the fortune to know. Come back to hear the full story of how we found each other. It's pretty amazing, and it renewed my belief that fate can sometimes offer up the wonderful thing you need the most, just when you least expect it.

11.01.2011 furry hugs and wet-nosed kisses

2011-11-01T16:27:00.001-04:00

A few years ago, when my dog, my best friend ever passed away, I felt like it was the end of the world. A view of my browsing history back then would show weeks of searches such as, "My dog died," "I feel guilty for not giving chemo to my dog," and "How long is it normal to grieve for your dog?" I knew that nothing anyone said would either make me feel less guilty or less unhappy, but just typing in such seemingly random statements and receiving scores of hits made me feel so much less alone. Well, that and the amazingly sweet emails and comments made here on e2ny. It's odd that the most comforting thing to know when you're suffering is that others have suffered similarly, and they got through it.

No one can tell you how long you will grieve for a pet. For each of us, it is different, and each of us have our own way of coping. Some people go right out and get another dog. For me, that was not possible. Though I longed for furry hugs and wet-nosed kisses, every time I saw a dog, I thought, "You're not Klaus." The void left behind was so immense, I could not imagine any paws being able to fill it.

Many people referred to Klaus as my "spirit animal." Even though I was in my early twenties when he chose me (over my rotten ex-boyfriend), we grew up together, we walked the earth together, and he looked after me during times when I really needed it and no one else really could. I did not properly train him - I was too young and too carefree - but we had a symbiotic relationship. We had our own way of communicating, and though he was not the perfectly behaved dog at all times, he followed my cues often without me speaking them. Getting another dog too soon would have felt like I was trying to replace him, which is impossible. I sometimes thought I would never again be able to bring home another dog, which bothered me because I'm a dog person, and I am not happy without one around.

It's been a little over three years. Every once in a while I would browse the shelter and rescue sites, just to see how it would feel. In the past couple months, I found a few dogs I would inquire after, and then suddenly I found myself filling out applications.

And then... As fate brought Klaus to me - and then Hooper - and then took him away from us, someone else has shown up to capture our hearts (and our slippers). It was pure chance that we met. Tomorrow, you will meet her.

10.29.2011 the lure of stuff

2011-10-29T09:31:00.001-04:00

I am a collector. Due to various moves in the past, and the occasional need to unburden myself, I have parted with many collections: antique toys, manual typewriters, other people's hair, an ever relinquished and replenished collection of old cameras, antique medical equipment, vintage dresses. Nothing I've ever collected has had considerable value but much of it has evoked the ever appreciative "Hey, where did you find that?".

I greatly reduced my possessions before moving to our tiny apartment in New York, so I now try (and usually fail) to keep things tightly curated. My husband and my mutual love for collecting books has formed the most substantial presence here, but they share the space with various art and craft objects - several green vintage Bauer bowls, milk-glass from my grandmother, and of course, many paintings and photos. Over the years on my travels I have also unconsciously gathered numerous objects from nature such as rocks, fossils, seashells, coral, a bird feather or two, and there was a time when friends would gift such things to me because they knew how I treasured them. I display many of these on top of my bureau, each with their own little backstory, known only to me. These are my most priceless possessions.

I have maintained for many years a modest collection of old photographs. I began with portraits from the turn of the last century to the 1960's and moved on to snapshots of the same period, eventually moving backwards as I grew interested in 19th Century photography. Daguerreotypes, my main obsession, are prohibitively expensive, and I love the typical favorites - children, animals, men in uniform, hand-colored images.

Though I tend towards the obsessive at times, I understand the uselessness of collecting, of possession in general. Why do I feel the need to collect these things? What will they matter when I am gone? Am I not just distracting myself from that which is truly essential? Though these things do not define me to others, they somehow define me to myself. It is as if I fear I will not recognize my life without these reminders, these momentos. My grandmother died from Alzheimer's, and as is common, she grew worse when she had to move to a nursing home. The loss of a context cemented in the long term memory seems to cause Alzheimer's patients to drift further from a grasp on the short term. These things are the projection of my life onto the canvas that envelops me daily.

It is also beauty that comforts me, and though I am clearly ambivalent about it, I collect nonetheless. There is so much that is unpleasant in life, so much that is incomprehensible and uncertain. If these few lovely things serve to remind me that life is a struggle towards serenity, towards clarity, then let them stay. For now, at least.

10.23.2011

2011-10-23T16:23:00.002-04:00

Has it been a month since I posted? E2ny's been in nap mode for too long. I have some new ideas, and there is at least one (hopefully) impending item of excitement I will share soon. Yes, it has lovely eyes, a cute little nose and legs, but four of them, and it's not a definite. You'll be the first to know.

09.22.2011 my friends are awesome

2011-09-22T11:32:00.000-04:00

Last week was an exciting week for a few of my friends. Two couples managed to find their way to two of the biggest trend-setting forums of the moment.

Paul & Kimi

My long-time friends Paul and Kimi have always impressed me with their decor choices - a clean, modern aesthetic infused with elements of nature in often surprising manifestations. That aesthetic earned them a feature on Sneak Peek, Design Sponge's ever-popular house tour in pictures.

These gorgeous photos by Trevor Tondro capture all that I love about their home. See the rest of the post on Design Sponge, and additional pics that didn't make the cut on Kimi's blog.

George & Victoria

Another stylish couple I'm lucky to know, George and Victoria, had the amazing opportunity to appear on Project Runway, working with one of the contestants to design a look that suits Victoria's style. The result was incredible, and the best of the bunch.

Victoria even got to walk the catwalk. Watch the full episode on the show's website.

09.11.2011

2011-09-11T09:24:00.001-04:00

09.07.2011 'mise en scène' opens tonight

2011-09-07T12:31:00.000-04:00

frosch&portmann is pleased to start the new season with "Hooper Turner. mise en scène", the artists’s first solo exhibition with the gallery.

September 7th - October 30th, 2011
Opening Sept 7th, 6:00 - 8:00pm

53 Stanton Street
New York, NY 10002

+1 646-820-9068

Gallery hours: Wednesday - Sunday, 12 - 6

*More images at hooperturner.com

08.19.2011 coming out

2011-08-19T09:57:00.004-04:00

I have begun and halted many attempts at writing this post. I want to share the story of my illness, especially after this blush-inducingly sweet post from blogger cablearms, which made me realize just how secretive I have been the past couple of years. The risks I imagine for coming out with it are most likely exaggerated, but I have lost so much because of this illness, I have been a bit paranoid about putting down the facts in public.

My illness is a compound of diseases, making both diagnosis and treatment as complex as the diseases themselves. The lack of control that is suddenly foisted on the sick person is felt in every facet of his or her life. Not talking about my illness publicly has been one way I have been able to maintain some modicum of control.

Part of being able to let go of my fears is in ceasing to judge myself for something that is almost completely out of my control. I got sick, and for most people, chronic illness is the death of the former self, and like the death of a loved one, the sick person has to move through all the stages of grief. Part of my grief has been blaming myself for becoming and being ill - something that is obviously unreasonable, but completely normal. If I stop judging myself, then I am able to relinquish my fears that others will do the same. (Doesn't it seem totally irrational anyone would hold a person's illness against them? It happens.)

I have always written because I wish to connect, to verbalize this struggle called life (Isn't it funny that we make it so hard for ourselves?), and for me a large part of life is illness, so I want to be more open about what I go through, in the hopes you might relate some part of your life - perhaps even your own illness or shortcomings - to my words.

I have been sick for two and a half years. The beginning was a search for the cause. After countless blood tests, X-rays, CT scans, L.P.s, EMGs, MRIs, biopsies, I have been diagnosed with CIDP, Sjögren Syndrome, Hashimoto's Thyroiditis, as well as a few symptomatic diagnoses. You'd be surprised what else turns up when docs go searching - I have hypoplastic ribs, a cyst in my brain and an asymptomatic malformed cerebellum. Add these to chronic migraines and a skin disease I have suffered since my teen years.

Early in my illness, I tested positive for Lyme disease, for which I underwent two months of IV antibiotics. Sadly, I continued to be ill, which led to more tests and a picture of a generalized connective tissue disease, which could progress to something more overarching or serious or remain where it is indefinitely. There is no cure for what ails me.

Intravenous therapies continued including plasmapheresis, which is basically a removal of white blood cells done through a tube in your chest. (Yeah, I know.) I now receive biweekly infusions of Intravenous Immunoglobulin (IVIG), which is harvested from the plasma of healthy donors, so if you have donated plasma or intend to, you would be doing someone like me a huge favor. I take up to 20 pills a day including medications targeting symptoms, as well as a preventative, which will hopefully in the near future be replaced by a more aggressive therapy. Some days are worse than others. I grapple with pain that is often excruciating, mind-numbing fatigue and sleepiness, brain-fog, malaise (flu-like and nausea), among other symptoms.

My daily life is severely disrupted. For weeks at a time, I don't have much of a life at all. I have countless doctors, which means countless doctor visits, which means all I have the energy for is traveling to and from the doctor.

The worst thing about any chronic illness is not the symptoms (though they suck), nor all the doctor visits or hospitalizations (though they're boring), nor the financial devastation (though I really miss going out to eat), nor the inability to take care of oneself and one's life as usual (though I miss being the busy bee I once was), but the social isolation and effect on your personal relationships. When you first get sick, there is an outpouring from friends and family, but the focus on you can't last forever. People have lives to live, and I imagine that after a while no one really knows what to say. "I'm sure you'll be better soon"? I got tired of saying no, and people no doubt feel badly about asking me to something I likely can't attend. Life in New York can be isolating for anyone, but for the sick, it might as well be Alcatraz.

Then there's my poor dear husband, who married me just previous to my illness. He has been as amazing as a person can be in this situation. Nonetheless, it is both our lives that have been dramatically altered by this.

I tell you all this not to evoke your sympathy, at least not for me, but to elucidate what life is like for the chronically ill, so that you might understand what it is like for someone else you know with the same or similar diagnoses. While I would give anything not to have ever gotten ill, especially at such a young age, I have grown exponentially as a person during this time. There are many metaphors about illness as a transformative experience, and I relate to the idea. Though I haven't experienced any spiritual revelations, as many do, I have gained a more positive perspective, realized the importance of family and of friends, and begun to understand how to put my life into the shape I want it.

On paper what I am living through sounds dreadful, but we endure what we must. There are many people worse off than I, and there are many who are better off, and I look to both for inspiration, as should you.

(*The Red Cross website has info about donating plasma. Please consider it.)

07.04.2011 e2ny turns five. what does it all mean?

2011-07-04T18:02:00.001-04:00

Today is the anniversary of our move to New York. That day is etched in my memory so clearly, though my life now seems a world apart from my life then. I guess five years can do that.

Hooper and I were talking this morning about the disparity between the knowledge that you used to think a certain way and actually being able to think that way. A simple version of it would be hating a certain food when you were a child and loving it now; you can't get inside your old head to experience the internal thought process, the experience of you so many years ago. As ridiculous as it is, you regret all those years not enjoying that food. It's why knowledge is not just passed on - it has to be learned.

I can no longer jump into Jen five years ago, but I have this online testimony - for better or worse - of the last five years of my life, begun with the vigor of a green New Yorker wanting to express the thrill of falling in love with this impossible to capture city. I hit the pavement, 3-megapixel camera in hand, eager to share what I was certain was so novel. The development of this blog led to a rededication to writing and to photography (I promise I used to be much better than the early days of e2ny belie!), which had been neglected in the pursuance of my painting degrees and a fear of digital photography. The inspiration I lost for the weird painting spot in the corner of my bedroom was given over to pixelated images and stories of my new home, which improved in fits and starts.

Since those days, I have come across several faded glory blogs about moving to New York, most of which have been abandoned by those who have moved away, or perhaps the novelty of the city or blogging - or both - wore off. I know this, sadly, is the fate of Escape to New York, though I do not know when it should end.

While I have obviously shared much of my life not unique to a Gothamist, the desire to do so has faded with each anniversary. As my life has gotten more complicated and my relationships here have grown richer, there is much that is not blog-appropriate. The things that compel me to write are not so superficially about New York as they were five years ago. Then I was trying to find myself as a New Yorker. Now, I'm just trying to survive as a New Yorker.

Like it did with those cast-off bloggers, for me the varnish has also worn off, of New York and of blogging. (Does anyone even read blogs anymore? Those who once criticized them must now relish any expression that comes in complete sentences and in more than 140 characters!) I love this city that is home. It is not what I thought it would be. Mostly, it is more, but it is also a pain in the ass. Of course, people told me that before I moved here, but I needed to find out for myself.

06.27.2011 involuntary warrior

2011-06-27T09:21:00.000-04:00

06.07.2011 dead pretty things

2011-06-07T16:21:00.000-04:00

If it makes me goth to think dead flowers are beautiful, then call me Sadie, pierce my nose and die my hair.

05.24.2011 rabbit rerun

2011-05-24T15:47:00.000-04:00

I recently uploaded more rabbits to my painting website. I fantasize sometimes that I'm old and a famous artist, and someone is interviewing me about my life and work. Do you ever do that? When I talk about my rabbit paintings (as my future old self), I muse aloud that perhaps the rabbit paintings were a bit too sweet. I then counter that thought with the realization that the truth of my heart during that time of illness was too dark to confront, so instead I offered myself the antidote of their kind faces. Well, most of them. That first one in pure evil.

Please visit my painting site to view more.

05.23.2011 her game to win

2011-05-23T10:25:00.001-04:00

I didn't sign up for this. But then, none of us really signs up for the crap life throws at us. If you want a new perspective on life - what really means something, what's not worth getting worked up over, etc - I really recommend getting sick. I know, I don't look that sick. I hear that at least once a week, to which my inner voice replies, "If only I looked sick..." Then my self smacks my inner self and we move on. And speaking of my inner selves, or, erm, self: Perhaps it's a product of living outside of time and life, or perhaps it really is this new perspective - and if you think I have no complaints, then please, pull up a chair - but right now for the first time in my life, rather than an inner monologue of negative and anxious thoughts, I have hope. I'm not quite sure where that hope should be directed, but I'm keeping my eyes peeled.