Planning and preparing for a trip can be a great part of the travel fun.  That was certainly true today.  To get myself in the Moroccan mood, I stopped by the Taymour Grahne Gallery on Hudson Street in Manhattan to see their exhibition of various works by Hassan Hajjaj, the Moroccan born and London based artist.  His large photographs of "Kesh Angels," beautiful Moroccan women in Marrakesh, are full of life and captivating.  The women are wearing what appear to be traditional garb, veils and robes; and they are also atop motorcycles, many with dark sunglasses, and looking very chic, smart, strong, and hip in bright colors and patterns.  One wants to get to know these women.  They certainly support my wanting to go to Morocco for the textiles and color.  As you see in the two images below, the photographs are placed in beautifully constructed frames that form a surround filled with objects of popular culture, consumerism,  and everyday food stuff (examples are soda cans and Moroccan spam tins).   Hassan Hajjaj  has been called a Moroccan Andy Warhol.  His photographs have the sheen of fancy fashion shoots but raise important questions about the meeting of east and west, traditional and modern, the street and culture.  

  

Hajjaj's work can also provide a psychological punch.    Most striking for me was his collection of small prints on cardboard.  Each was only 13" by 11,"  very small in comparison to the central exhibition photographs that had typical dimensions of 4 and 5 feet.  Again we have photographs of women on motorcycles, but these are photographs of dolls clothed and arranged by the artist, with his props. in his special way.  The photos are printed on the bottoms of coca cola cartons with the impressions left by the cans providing an intriguing quilted background for the dolls.  

Hajjaj is also famous for his installations.  Many of these like the one on the left are lounges meant for lounging.  They contain the furniture and decorative pieces he has made from everyday recycled objects.  For example, the banquette shown here is made from upside down plastic cartons commonly used to carry soda cans.   Again, there is a mixing of traditional and modern. 

Can't wait to get to Morocco to find the spaces that inspired this one and everything else in this gallery show. 

        There are many rituals connected with finishing a painting.  It begins with the decision that the painting is indeed done.  For that, there is a lot of looking at the painting:  as is on the easel, on various walls in the studio, from a seated position and a standing position, in different kinds of light, in reverse form in the mirror, upside down.  All of this activity is usually accompanied by a large cup of coffee or tea.  

         Once the "It's done" decision is made, there is the ritual of where to hang the painting in the studio while it dries.  Hanging takes a number of tries with hammer and nails and the inevitable moving around of pieces that are already on the wall.  It is so nice to see the new painting off the easel and in a temporary but suitable location with friends.  

        Then, there is the ritual of clean up.  I like to start from scratch when I begin a new painting.  That means all signs of the just finished painting are removed.  All of my brushes are not only thoroughly cleaned but put back in their official holders. Every bit of paint is scraped off the palette so I can start with fresh color.  The easel and other furniture are put in a corner. 

        When the painting I have just finished includes fruits, vegetables, and/or flowers, if that painting has taken more than a few days, there is one more very special ritual step.  I gather together all of the fruits, vegetables, and flowers  that are looking not quite as wonderful as they did when we first began the work.  They often have bruises, signs of sagging and withering, a deadening of color, and a scent that is a little too strong.   I put them all in a paper bag and, on a Monday, Wednesday, Friday, or Saturday, I drop them off at the Union Square Market on my way home from the studio.  The Market has a special area for composting with large containers for deposits.  It feels just right as I drop into the composting bin those many beloved apples, pears, cabbages, and other objects that I got to know so well.  I can't imagine just throwing them away in the ordinary trash.  They stay alive as they go into the making of compost or "black gold" that will help other vegetables, fruits, and flowers thrive.  As compost,  those still life objects have a life beyond my painting.  I like that.  As Ula and I walk the rest of our way home, we feel like we've done good work.