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In which I suffer for art

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arthike

Yes, those are reproductions of paintings by the mid-century Swedish abstract painter Olle Baertling (whose work, oddly enough, we saw in Marfa, Texas when we were there this spring)  being marched through the picturesque hills of the Marin Headlands just across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco, why do you ask?

eonarthikeOn Sunday my family went on a hike. It ended up being a much longer hike than my dashing husband had prepared us for, but true to form, Ernest champed out (only after having one complete breakdown about 10 minutes into the proceedings that, upon investigation, was caused by a bur in his sock). Let’s just say I was expecting that we might need to go on a hike after the “art hike” to get some exercise. Perhaps we’d take Ernest down to Rodeo Beach to run around for a bit. I invited my Very Tall Cousin Sam and his girlfriend to join us, knowing they were interested in seeing the Headlands, and was worried that they would feel ripped off.

No need. Everyone felt good and exposed to the Headlands, all thighs were well and worked, all energy was used and gone. It wasn’t just the hike. The hike also involved carrying the signs, the placards, the paintings – it doesn’t matter what you call them, they seemed carry-able enough when we first picked them up, but even plywood gets heavy after five miles of steep terrain and even well-sanded wood stakes start to rub delicate writer hands the wrong way after two hours.

We were hiking for art. We were part of a performance piece and eventual film by Jacob Dahlgren. We suffered for art. My hands are still stiff, my shoulder is bruised, and my neck is burned because – wouldn’t you know it – it was an amazingly beautiful day. The views were like this:

viewonhike

Yeah, so your sympathy for me is limited. I understand. And, you’re probably wondering, where is the food? Am I going to write about a delicious snack? A scrumptious picnic we tucked into at the top of the hill?

No. We had no food on the hike. We barely had water – in fact, the water we did have we scrounged off others. But when the hike was done and the art complete, we headed into the Headlands Center for the Arts for dinner.

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For $10 we dished up giant bowls of shrimp & albacore and/or mushroom & tofu Thai curry, grabbed $2 beers or $3 glasses of wine, and sat down at communal tables in the mess hall (the Center is in a de-commissioned army base) on which waited large platters of the freshest, crispiest, most herb-laced, fabulous tomato- and cucumber-laden green salad I’ve ever seen.

These dinners are usually for the artists-in-residence at the Center, but whenever there are artists talks or other public programs (or protests, as the case may be) the public is welcome to the dinners – just reserve a spot ahead of time and bring a twenty (the meals are usually a bit more elaborate than the one we had – on other visits I’ve been served chicken perfectly roasted in that brick oven you see in the back, homemade pasta, an asparagus and wild mushroom combo, salad, and a mixed fruit tart for dessert), a few bucks for booze, and a willingness to pitch in with the dishes.

It is a totally fun, completely delicious, utterly unique experience to have dinner at the Headlands. I can’t recommend it highly enough. Also, if anyone ever invites you to hike through nature carrying a reproduction of a painting by an artist who believed art should get as far from nature as possible, say yes. Bring a pair of gloves, plenty of sunscreen, and a snack, but say yes.

The kitchen might look familiar, it’s where we held Sausage Club, Part 2 last January.


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