Art, Pottery, Festivals, and Connections

  

I go to ceramic festivals for the art.  Last weekend, in a nearby German city, the fest of clay rambled through block after city block of bowls, cups, and other kiln fired implements. At least a hundred booths cluttered the streets, most of them manned by the artists themselves.  I love pottery and last Saturday I strolled in a paradise of design and ingenuity. Stroll with me for a few moments...

Ok, so maybe sloshing down some wine and biting into an aromatic bratwurst hot off the grill clouded the purity of my intentions just a tiny bit.  What the hell, ya gotta loosen up and free your mind.

By the second glass of wine, I start to get philosophical, so bear with me as I spew a mélange of random ideas.  Art connects us through a spider web of tiny threads that attach us to the reality of our existence.  Maybe I need to explain.

 Let’s start with painting.  Bursts of color across a canvas bring us a panorama of possibilities in other forms of art.  There are colors and designs for ceramics, soaring notes of classical music, sparky, yet mellow riffs of jazz, swirls of dancers, and the flowing prose of literature.  It’s all connected.  To paraphrase that noble writer, Ernest Hemingway, When I run out of inspiration, I go look at a few canvases.  You know Hemingway?  Larger than life and his cup of indulgences was as deep as a bucket.  He should have been a wee bit more forthcoming.  Before you write, first you have a couple of belts of Cuban rum, do a little fishing in the gulf, take in a few bullfights, and THEN go look at a few canvases.

Musical notes?

 Now let's look at music.  Much has been made of the connections between mathematics and music.  Ponder the question of why some music is more popular than others.  Could be explained by the artistic patterns of notes, as well as rhythms?  Are there mathematical equations that suggest why some music is popular and other music not so much?  Professor Jason Brown of Dalhousie University (Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada) thinks so.  He’s a Beatles fan, as well as a mathematician and using math, he’s written a ‘new’ Beatles song with the numerical patterns found in original Beatles tunes.  As he says, math is essentially the search for patterns and, he continues, there are mathematical reasons that Beatles’ melodies and guitar chord sequences continue to resonance to the modern crowd over forty years after the group quit recording. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j28Lj5t_7Xo

Which leads to a bigger question:  Is pole dancing art?  I’m going to pass on that, Bob and move on to dutiful husband category for a thousand.

But the heart of this festival was ceramics.  I’ve often wondered about the links from painting to textiles, writing, music and dance.  All of those mediums offer free flowing, twisting hues that flood the mind with new possibilities.  I’m a potter myself and often look to textiles for inspirational texture, and lines of color. I also get ideas from painting, and the soft flow of jazz can get me in the mood to write… and other things.

And of course, sculpture is another art that connects.

 Clay is a malleable substance that lends itself to so many variations.  I find there are as many interpretations as there are ceramicists.  Clay also expresses nuances of customs, cultures, and even civilizations.  Japanese ceramics are distinct from those in Europe and both are vastly different from pots and cups found in Native American art. Even within Europe, it's easy to identify Spanish pottery from Italian, and Italian from German, or French.

 At this pottery fest, no two potters produced the same designs or styles. Just goes to show, once your mind is free to explore possibilities, your limits burst at the seams.  In booth after booth, I marveled at resemblances to swirls of dancers, streaked rainbows, and stark monochromatic designs, reflected in simple blacks and whites you find in photographs.  Black and white photographs inspire simplicity of line and nuances of shadow. 

“All of that on pottery?” you ask.  Definitely.  Few things express drama and mystery better than plain black, white and simple grays.  To take it a step farther, I believe movies lost something in the transition from black and white to Technicolor.

Pottery also connects us to cooking implements and the flower garden.  Just a quick scan of the photos in this blog and you’ll see what I mean.  Again I ask, what exactly is the connection of line and form amid ribbons and pools of color?  I think I know.  Art directly connects to all of nature and nature connects us all.

But, what the hell.  That’s enough thinking.  Need another cup of the grape?  I’m buying.  And the next time you hear about a pottery festival, go.  It’ll free your mind.

Almond Blossom Festival on the Wine Road

Didn’t I tell you there would be another Weinfest an der Deutsche Weinstraße (on the German Wine Road) this past weekend?  I was there, along with a few hundred other thirsty visitors, with the juice of the grape on our minds, but camaraderie in our souls.

This one, as promised, celebrated the blooming of the almond trees that line the main road and most of the surrounding streets.  I’m telling you, one of the things I love about Germany is the way even the smallest villages celebrate every season and every harvest.  Pumpkins.  Chestnuts.  Strawberries. Asparagus. New wine. Beer. Plus, there are the religious holidays, which are more rigorously celebrated than we’re used to in the U.S.  Just when you think you know all the saints, another pops up and the stores close and garbage pickup comes a couple of days earlier than you’d planned.  But, let’s get back on topic.  Almond blossoms.

Pumpkins?  http://stroudallover.blogspot.de/2012/10/autumns-not-just-for-kids-pumpkin-soup.html

Potatoes and Chestnuts?  http://stroudallover.blogspot.de/2013/10/potatoes-and-chestnuts-hey-fest-is-fest.html

Ok, so almond blossoms and beer and wine aren’t harvested, but they definitely represent a change in the seasons.  Hey, nature doesn’t lie.  When the almond trees start to bloom, you know spring is here.

In a few weeks, the forests’ budding branches will cast a faint green velvet glow over the awakening trees and the almost infinite rows of vines will be covered in light green finery.  Even now the days grow longer and Germany’s days glow with lingering glimpses of sunshine.

The blooms are on their way!

But, back to almond blossoms and the Almond Blossom Fest, held every year in the tiny town of Gimmeldingen, near Neustadt on the Germany Wine Road.  You have to keep your eyes and ears peeled to catch the date.  Nature not only doesn’t lie, but it keeps its own timetable.  The almond blooms burst out when they will, so the festival is announced on short notice.  This year we got about a ten-day call.

What do you expect to find at an almond blossom festival?  No trick questions.  Small, beautifully trees, adorned in pink blossoms. Beer.  Wine. Wurst.  Vendors with exquisite temptations. 

But, no matter what you expect, also expect surprises.  At this fest I saw something I hadn’t seen is a while:  roasting salmon on cedar planks around open wood fires.  You don’t want to know how delicious fire seared salmon is, it’ll only disturb your sleep and make you wake up hungry.  Add fresh rolls and dilled mayo….sorry, I can’t go on.  It’ll disturb my sleep, too.

Let’s move on to the handmade wares. As I have often said, the vendors at German fests are first class.  The almond blossom affair was no exception.  Gabi Müller-Seng makes jewelry.  Fine, inventive jewelry, with every piece uniquely crafted.  She is a native to the Wine Road, with a shop in Neustadt.  I wouldn’t be so crassly commercial, but I really have seen nothing like the jewelry she makes.  Gold and silver, curved and hammered into small sculptures you’ll be eager to wear on your fingers, or wrists, or around your neck…or pinned to your jacket.

Now to the heart of the matter.  I didn’t come for jewelry, or even almond blossoms.  I came for indescribably delicious wine, roasted wurst , whose redolent smoke you whiff for a hundred yards before you see it, and even more importantly, the crowds of happy people that are more than willing to drink with you and smile and use their faltering English, while you stumble and spit out your torn, rag tag German.

A long time ago, when my sons were young and we ripped them away from their covey of close friends and schoolboy enterprises and took them across vast oceans, they were more than a little sad.  They trusted us, but the loss, combined with facing the unknown, made their sleep a toss and turn affair.  When we’d settled in to our new home, I asked them what they missed about the place we had come from. They gave me names of friends and things that had happened, soccer games won or lost, the freedom of the last day of school, the summer days spent wandering the woods, or fishing in the lake.  Never once did they mention a ‘thing,’ a gift, a toy.

And that’s what the almond blossom fest was really all about.  Sitting next to friendly people, most of whom were Germans, welcoming you with open arms to share some wine and conversation, talk about the weather, comment on the salmon, or pickles, and make you feel at home.

More and more fests coming up!  Wine and more.  You’ve heard of Christmas markets.  What about Easter markets!  Hey, put some Google in your life!  Find the fests!  Mark your calendar!  Meet the people who will make your stay in Germany linger in the corners of your heart forever!

Turkish Festival, Homburg 2015

Homburg is a lively town.  Fests just about every week in fine weather.  Later in the summer there’s an Italian Fest, which is always a wonderful amalgam of wine, opera, pizza, Italian pop music, jazz, and pasta.  (13-16 August 2015)

But, last week was about Turkey, with an emphasis on food, more food, lots of smoke from charcoal grills, light musical entertainment, and a few active games for the kids.  Stilts.  Foot pedaled platforms.  Pull momma’s skirt and Watch Her Spill Her Food.  Who’s Got the Loudest Scream.

Heavy emphasis on kids.  I must have seen four or five musical numbers involving Turkish kids, although not all Turkish music.  Catchy, repetitive American Top Forty selections were a big favorite, with up to twenty young kids on stage, jerking and dancing, and singing along in preparation for becoming big repetitive stars.

I like Turkish food.  Lots of grilled, spiced meats, and breads whose delicious smell will lead you by the nose and polish your palate.  Lamb is very popular in Turkey, but here in Germany, lamb costs about the same as chateaubriand at a three star Michelin culinary palace. For meats, this fest stuck to beef and a bit of chicken.  They didn’t have the big tandoori-style ovens for the bread, so they used what looked like flour tortillas and probably were.  I miss Turkish bread.

I remembered, however, that gozleme, which looks exactly the same as flour tortillas, but stuffed with fresh cheese and spinach, is a popular Turkish street food. A coterie of Turkish maidens did well with their versions, using electric hot plates and various savory fillings.

Gozleme

Adana kebab is one of my favorites, and the beef version was excellent.  Ground meat, seasoned with cumin, red pepper flakes, and various other seasoning, grilled and served on flat bread with a generous helping of marinated salad.

Adana Kebab

And, who can forget the most famous dessert from the eastern Mediterranean region, baklava.   Lots and lots of variations besides the well-known version of layers of phyllo dough, filled with ground nuts, slathered in butter, and baked in a good soaking of sweet syrup.  Kadayif is similar, but made with something resembling shredded wheat.

Kadayif 

So, yes, I stood too close to the grill and got smoked in the process.  But, the Adana kebab was close to perfect.  Then, I hit the dessert line and had one of each, which made the scarf-clad ladies laugh and mutter in Turkish something on the order of, “That handsome brute loves my cooking.  I must invite him to my house for tea, while my husband-who-ignores-my-beauty slaves at the office.”

 

Not all Turkish women dress traditionally.

As you might imagine, I loved the Turkish Festival.  Now, if I could only find that damn address…