First Person Singular by Wendy Braitman

You’re Calling That, What?

Help me NAME a new section of FPS. On March 8, I’m launching a dedicated spot, a sort of “Exhibition Room,” in which readers can look at the photography, illustrations and paintings I’ve been posting, all in one place, with links to artists’ names and contact info. Your VOTE counts!

3/8 Update: ART SEEN!
3/5 Update: Voting extended through Sunday.
3/4 Update: Poll includes the 6 entries that have received at least a couple of votes.

(Image: starting top row, left to right, artwork by Alex Katz, Clare Grill, Leonard Freed, Hayv Kahraman, Chris Jordan, Sophie Blackall, Jacob Dahlgren, Irving Penn, Richard Rutledge.)

Homage To My Hips

The distinguished poet Lucille Clifton died this week.

Homage to My Hips

these hips are big hips.
they need space to
move around in.
they don’t fit into little
petty places. these hips
are free hips.
they don’t like to be held back.
these hips have never been enslaved,
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
these hips are mighty hips.
these hips are magic hips.
i have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top!

by Lucille Clifton, Good Woman. 1987

The Price of Beauty

When I see beautiful women aging, particularly women who are defined by their looks, I feel their pain. Not because it’s my story, of course, which is strictly fantasizing about what dating and mating would be like if I were ravishing. But I can imagine what loss it must be to not turn heads anymore. Years ago, I was lucky enough to be standing near the great French actress, Catherine Deneuve. Casually dressed with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, she was clearly showing age, but her beauty was timeless, as if a spotlight was still following her luminous face.

(Image: Photograph and book by renowned photographer Nadav Kander.)

Why It’s Great to Be Single on Valentines Day, reason #8 from Christine:     Continue reading »

Ah Oui! If Love Were This Easy

Google’s really cool ad that first aired during the Superbowl

Why It’s Great to Be Single on Valentines Day, reason #6 from Nancy:     Continue reading »

Taking a Breather

On route to the San Francisco airport yesterday, an attractive ex-lover, now long-time strictly platonic dear friend, treated me to breakfast at the Universal Café, one of our favorite brunch spots. He has recently parted ways with his girlfriend of many years, and I asked him if he’s interested in dating. “I’m not ready,” he replied. “I just want to hang out in First Person Singular land for a while.” A LAND?  Really? It sounded so static, but I kept my mouth shut for fear of sounding defensive. For the record, FPS isn’t a holding place, where we sit around catching our breath in between relationships. Oh well. No need to counter with the perfect rebuttal today. I’m still enjoying the buzz from my weekend away.

Tune in tomorrow for the rollout of Why it’s Great to be Single on Valentines Day.

Image: Erich Consemöller. Untitled (Woman in B3 club chair by Marcel Breuer wearing a mask by Oskar Schlemmer and a dress in fabric designed by Beyer). c. 1926, MOMA, New York.

The Ineffable

Poetry intimidates me. Despite that or maybe because of it, I read a poem a day.  And occasionally, I find one that I can easily make contact with, and best of all, it moves me. Give this one a try.

Continue reading »

A Crash Course in Haiti

After last week’s devastating earthquake, I’ve been cramming to get re-aquainted with Haiti’s history, so as not to fall prey to spouting pundits who are probably just boning up as well. I’ve also been reading some wonderful short fiction by acclaimed Haitian-born writer, Edwidge Danticat.

Danticat immigrated to New York when she was 12, which was when she started learning English and by 25, her first novel Breath, Eyes, Memory was published. In 1994, she was hailed by the New York Times as 30 artists under 30 “likely to change the culture for the next 30 years,” Oprah selected Breath, Eyes, Memory for her book club, and last year, Danticat (who is 41 today) received the prestigious MacArthur “genius” award. Here’s an excerpt from Crabs, a piece Danticat wrote about her childhood for The New Yorker in 2008:       Continue reading »

When You Pray, Move Your Feet

Photo: The March on Washington, Aug. 28, 1963. Leonard Freed / Magnum Photos

Are You Looking Forward to a Midnight Kiss?

Me, not so much. But I’m in love with this photograph by Irving Penn for a 1969 lipstick ad.   HAPPY & HEALTHY 2010 everybody, filled with lots of love wherever you can find it!

Don’t Look Back (unless it’s worth it)

By now, I’m bored with the best of the year lists, and ten times more so with the best of the decade. (Do we really need to revisit the Bush years?) What did catch my eye this week were the memorial essays cropping up about the men and women who truly changed the cultural landscape.

Like Merce Cunningham, who lived as fully for 90 years as we could only dream. During my dance phase living in New York and San Francisco, I took daily Cunningham technique classes and even tried my hand at creating a piece using the I Ching, as he famously did. (My results were less than notable.) I was accustomed to thinking of Cunningham as a master teacher and brilliant choreographer, but I didn’t realize until reading his obituaries that he’s considered among critics as one of the greatest dancers of the 20th century.

Merce Cunningham in Antic Meet, 1958. Photo by Richard Rutledge