ZAGREB, CROATIA
MARCH 13 - 20
DAY 1 AND 2

I'd be better at posting these things if I wasn't so depressed...

What keeps me going is knowing that Sam is having a great time in Croatia, and getting experiences he could not have here in NYC (I'm trying, I'm trying!).

Our visit with Sam was both more wonderful than I had expected, and much harder than I expected. Like life, I guess.

It was with great pleasure that we hopped in the cab for the trip to the airport, and our first sight of Sam since January 1st. I love the airport, expecially if I'm the one who is flying. Perhaps if I flew more often it would become routine and maybe even annoying. But I ain't there yet. It's still really cool.

We were to take Alitalia to Milan, and from there to Zagreb. Bit of excitement/trepidation: we discovered our plane, which was delayed, would
a) not land in Milan until 30 minutes after the Zagreb flight was scheduled to leave, and
b) if we missed that 9 a.m. plane, the next one wouldn't leave Milan til 9pm.

So, hoping against hope, and not wanting to spend 12 hours in the Milan airport and miss 12 hours with Sam, we dashed from the plane when it landed in Milan, resisted the urge to run through the security guards, and arrived breathlessly at the departure desk for the Zagreb flight.

The plane hadn't left.

Because they had yet to locate the crew.

It was Alitalia. I should have figured: the Italian's loose definition of time is both well known, infuriating, and wonderful.

We boarded the small prop plane, caught our first sight of Croatia through the propellor of the plane, and landed at noon. Very glad to be there. We found out later that the 9pm plane "is usually cancelled," which would have meant being trapped in the airport for 24 hours.

Of course our luggage hadn't made it.

Nothing mattered though, if we could be with Sam. Sam was expecting us, but had become so anxious with excitement that when we did arrive he buried his head in Sonja's neck and wouldn't even look at us. Fortunately, having married a child development expert, it was not hard to understand. We had time. We could wait.

Within an hour he started to open up. We were so happy to be there that we were content to wait, as he slowly got used to us again.

We all went out for a walk on the snow-covered back roads of Zagreb, and Sam began to warm up. He was still a bit shy with us, but starting to come around.


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I confess that it was hard to see him so changed: talking like crazy, moving so easily and with such confidence; even his hands were different- longer fingers, more boy-like. Two and a half months at two and a half years of age is a long time.

Over the course of the day, things began to get back to normal. Simple things were best. He discovered my electric toothbrush, and proceeded to brush my teeth. He made sure to clean all those hard to reach molars.

He then felt it both necessary and appropriate to make sure that the teeth of all his dinosaurs were clean.

Then we watcheda skateboard video, covering NYC's five boroughs (a gift of my nephew Mark). We were starting to bond...

Finally, at the end of the evening it was time for Sam's bath. He apparently had resisted a bath for many of the preceding nights. With me he agreed right away. To me that was his welcome-to-Zagreb-great-to-see-you moment. And we had fun.

I was where I wanted to be.


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Sam and I

This is the way life should be.



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ART REMINISCENSE WHILE WAITING FOR CROATIA

STORM KING ADVENTURE

OCTOBER 2004


(click to enlarge these pics)

Yep, next week at this time I will be arriving in Zagreb, and reuniting with my beloved Sam.

[note: while I love our daughter and son-in-law dearly, and do not want in any way to suggest to them that we are not thrilled and excited to be seeing them, it is also true that their growth, both physical and emotional, will be less noticeable than will Sam's, and thus Sam's loss to us for the past 10 weeks is greater, and our impending reunion all that much more exciting]

In preparation for that reunion, and to pass the hours that will seem to pass sooooo slowwwly over this next week, I have taken to reminiscing about past adventures. And gathering some photos that have not yet made it onto the blog (yes, there are a few of those...).

Last October we spent a nice Autumn day at Storm King Art Center, an hour's ride north of the city. We were there the entire day, and saw only a tiny portion of the collection. Many of the sculptures are site-specific, and most were placed there by the artists. Curated by the landscape.

The photo above, with Sam romping underneath, is Kenneth Snelson's "Free Ride Home." According to the website, "it was erected in a half-hour by a crew of four men and has never required any adjustment. The self-supporting structure depends on a system in which the wires function like muscles and the tubes like bones, in a taut balance of tension and compression." I didn't know that then. I just remember being fascinated that Sam wanted to run around directly underneath the center of the arch. I would have expected him to either a) go for the sides, and start climbing, b) run around in front of it to get a good view, or c) run away from it, as something that might collapse on him (a concern of Mary's).

The Mark di Suvero piece, Pyramidian, was a different story. Here, the danger seemed too real, and Sam would only stand under it if I was holding him.

And there were some pieces that are much safer than they look; although it looks like it's going to fall over on us (or falling away, depending on your perspective), this piece is an optical illusion in two tons of steel.

And then again, it doesn't have to be a sculpture to threaten collapse. Yet we don't generally look at trees, and tree branches, in that way. Permanence of nature?

Which is one of the things I find so wonderful in Andy Goldsworthy's work. Visiting his Storm King Wall was a primary reason for our visit. It sounds like dumb art-speak, I know, but his use of natural materials to comment on the impermanence of nature is something I find both beautiful and thoughtful. Besides the natural beauty of the wall itself, (I particularly liked the loop into the water, and its re-emergence on the other side of the lake), Goldsworthy has other things to say. Perhaps the most intriguing is the close relationship between the wall and the trees it wraps around. At first look, it is comforting to see how protected this tree is. Almost cozy. But then you slowly realize that this tree is eventually, over the course of the next fifty years or so, going to destroy the wall. Kinda changes how I see the relationship between protector and protectee. As well as just what is permanent (nothing) and what is not (everything).

And that means, this is not permanent either.

It's not so much that it is hard to accept this; I don't want to accept it.

I mean, c'mon. How can this not be forever?

But back to the Wall: for Sam, his relationship with the wall was expansive. It offered him space to run, a place to steal little 'keep back' flags, and to swing, among other pleasures.

And have his portrait taken with his grandmother, and her best friend Karen.



The Richard Serra sculpture, Schunnemunk Fork (whatever the hell that means), was one of Sam's favorites. He has long been a Serra fan. He visited his sculptures at Dia Beacon, and the Gagosian gallery in August 2003, just before turning two (Remember this photo of Sam, pizza, and walking on Serra)?

At Storm King it was a place for another exotic diaper change (soon, I promise, I will publish for general edification the entire exotic diaper change collection). And a place for hide and seek and camera peek a boo. His laughter is permanent, at least as long as I am permanent.

Ha.



As the day wound down, Sam was drawn to this Louise Nevelson piece. Actually, if you look closer (and click on the photo to enlarge it), you will see that what he is actually admiring is the piece of stone on the grass that identifies the piece. And in fact, he is admiring to such an extent that he is ripping it out of the earth..

Not content with his artistic statement commenting on the appropriate way to deal with labels, he then wandered into the sculpture and started pushing/moving all its 'do not touch' elements.

Soon after this photo was taken we watched, with fascination, as a large piece (can't remember whose it was; didn't take a photo) was slowly moved across a lawn by a small tractor.

Which was Sam's favorite object of the day.




We'll be back.



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