Lisa's got Veganomicon, which was also my first vegan cookbook. She's super-busy with grad school (grad school sounds hard, man), but she took the time to prepare a really great dinner and invite me over to eat it.
|Hail to the chef!|
Oh, and, in news completely unrelated to vegan eating, check this out:
Unblurred, which is Pittsburgh's First Friday, was the single thing that generated the most conversation up and down Penn Avenue. I wish I knew her name, or, uhhh, even the name of the venue she was in, but the galleries give you free beer! It makes for sub-par event reporting. ANYWAY, this woman was just sitting at a table, crumpling this white material that looked like paper mache and letting the crushed stuff fall in front of her and onto her feet. She did it with singular concentration, making faces that implied that she was working very hard at this task, puzzling over how to do it best, even.
My immediate inclination was to talk to her. I mean, there was nothing separating her from the "audience." She was just a person, hard at work crumbling thin pottery that jangled to the ground like glass. But I was scared because I tend to have inclinations that are apparently inappropriate, so I didn't trust my instincts on the matter.
But then I spoke with some people who, like many others, were scattered around the room discussing the oddly disconcerting installation. A young woman told me that a guy earlier was talking to her, and she responded to him. "She's not a brochure," the woman said. Good! This is what I thought. So I went back up to her.
"What is this stuff, paper mache?" I asked.
"It's like that. Thin, kilned clay," she told me, still crumbling.
"Are you going to do something with it once it's all in pieces?"
She just shrugged her shoulders.
"Are you breathing a lot of dust in?"
"Oh, yeah., Plenty," she responded, unperturbed.
"Hmmm," I said. "Well, I hope you avoid pollution for a few months after this to make up for tonight. The dust is totally worth it for this night, in my opinion."
It was definitely awkward to talk to her. But that's cool. The whole thing about the utter weirdness of her doing this--and people's difficulty deciding how to react to her--was just as interesting to watch as the activity itself. I feel bad that the artist could barely witness it. She was too busy crumbling and making constant faces of intense concentration, like this one: