I love art trails. I'm not an artist, but I love looking at it in all its forms. On a trail, if something doesn't capture my interest, the next candidate is just another stop away. I've traveled the Ithaca and Naples trails. Both of them are worth the driving effort and I always plan for them. (Hopefully next year they'll use my suggestion of artsy mailboxes containing the maps, attaching them to posts, and placing them strategically near the stops.) However, neither of these prepared me for a visit to Anderson Alley's Gala on Friday, November 30.

First, there's the signage. The street sign on Goodman Street, which I walk by each day I come to work, has never inspired me to go have a look-see. It looks like something a kid did (apologies to whoever's toes I'm stepping on), or something some renegade artist did to flip off the art "establishment." It doesn't make me think there might be wonderful treasures within. No one I asked knew who did the artwork, and they all also expressed similar sentiments. Get a new sign, people! With four floors of artists, surely you can come up with something that reflects the high quality of art contained within.

This leads me to my second qualm, another sign. As I walked into the back door, I was greeted by a cavernous stairway. Sure, there were posters posted on some of the walls, but not one that clearly identified exactly where the gala was. I waited until someone came down the stairs to ask. And this is where my ranting ends and my raving begins.

The first studio I entered was Jan Hewitt Towsley's textiles. Her floor and wall works were beautiful and I quickly jotted down a note-to-self to tell a friend she'd be wanting one of her rugs. The next studio I ventured in had the means to blow me away--literally. Who knew there was a Civil War Field Artillery Museum tucked away in Rochester, NY? Anyone have cannon shot on their holiday list? Chuck Baylis opened it a few months ago. The same Chuck Baylis who told me he met his wife through a City Newspaper ad, and she also had a studio in Anderson Alley, as did their daughter. City is apparently very family friendly!

From there it was studio after studio (four floors) of every imaginable, and never imagined by me, form and function of art. Nothing bored me, but some really stood out:
-Lynne Feldman's collage tapestries, which are like a one-page story.
-Linda McFadden's lettering art. I want to have a party just so she can make the invitations.
-Susan Kukle's floorcloths. Martha Stewart-worthy.
-New Ridge Bindery, where they're binding a Psych book that will be used in universities on how to perform and decipher polygraphs. "CSI: Rochester"! They also repair and rebind  all sorts of old books. A bibliophile's dream.
-Henna Rising body arts. These intricate designs make even feet look pretty. Put a hennaed tambourine on your list for me.
-Cheryl Bagley's scarves. Scarves don't usually move me, but her designs of silk gauze and Japanese Nuno wool are ethereal. Imagine a scarf made of cotton candy. She told me the ‘felting' process is kind of like when you accidentally throw a wool sweater into the  washing machine: it's been felted.
-Colleen Buzzard's Print Lab. Her studio is hard to describe. Things like old metal dentist x-ray holders mixed with maps and writings. Old books blended into boxes. If you liked Amber Hare's "I Have a Dollar" in-home exhibit last fall, you'll love Buzzard's studio. I felt like Alice in Wonderland.

I meant to go to three other art receptions Friday night, but once inside Anderson Alley I knew I'd never make them. Hey, the sign made me think I'd want to be whipping through. Now I'm planning on going to one of their Second Saturday Open Studios to spend even more time. Still, I wish they'd change the sign!

Sunday night I sloshed out through the snowy rain to see Prog B of Garth Fagan Dance at Nazareth Arts Center. (Am I the only one who finds it challenging to read programs, especially when there are listings for three different programs in one book? They're like magazines; the index is 20 pages in, after the scratch-n-sniffs.) I don't have much to say since it was wonderful, as usual. I love the mix of different types of music with dances you wouldn't think would mesh. I love watching the dancers' heaving diaphragms as they catch their breath, and the taut muscles when they're extended. I did see a first for me: an encore dance. After the standing ovation and as the non-stop clapping, the company came out to do "Light" again. Happy me, ‘cos it was my favorite.

Next up: Mos Def at UR, maybe some Los Lobos/Mellencamp, and watching the dissolution of the Mandala at Colgate.

The "Entrepreneurship, Hip-Hop and Def" lecture scheduled to be given tonight by musician/actor Mos Def has been postponed due to inclement weather. No replacement date has yet been set. For more information visit choiceticketing.com/rochester, or call the University of Rochester's Kearn Center at 275-1402.

Mos Def's postponement offered me the chance to catch the John Mellencamp/Los Lobos double bill at the Auditorium Theatre. I still can't get used to sitting at rock-ish concerts. Los Lobos got us standing a few times, but Mellencamp had us "at attention" throughout, even cell-ing our friends for a chorus of how life goes on. Check the Music Blog for a full report.

I wasn't sure how the mandala dissolution ceremony this morning at Colgate Crozer Rochester Divinity was going to play out. The lit said the mandala would be swept into a nearby body of water. The closest water to Colgate that I could think of was Highland Reservoir. That would be quite a trek in this weather, or quite an auto entourage. All this speculating wasn't "being in the present," so I decided to let go of all assumptions and open to whatever was going to be.

About two dozen people gathered at Colgate Divinity, most of them having taken classes there and therefore having their own pillow or mat to sit on. The rest of us took up chairs or sat on the floor. Enclosed on three sides with fabric walls, the mandala sat on a platform surrounded by "flags," an altar of offerings leading to it. The offerings were an assorted mix of intricate sculptures of colored oatmeal(!), fruits, cookies, and candies. The presence of Little Debbie Christmas Tree cakes and Hershey's cherry-filled kisses struck me as odd, but not as odd as the amount of cameras taking pictures of the mandala. Here's this symbol that will be swept away and loosed into a body of water, "a reminder of the impermanence and the futility of attachment," being recorded for all-time in digital. Yeah, I took a few too.

What I thought would be about an hour-long celebration, turned into an over-full morning. (Another reminder that speculation gets me into trouble.) The next few hours were a steady stream of chantings and prayers accompanied by ringing bells, cymbals, drums, and more digital displays in the guise of sound effects from an iPod run through a sound board. Many pots were placed on our heads, the contents dribbled into our cupped hands, which we then drank, drying our hands by rubbing them down the back of our heads. A small red ball of something was also consumed, cards were put to our chests, but by far the most fun was the tossing of dry saffron rice into the air at the end of prayers. The floor began to look like the aftermath from a wedding.

I felt a bit like the Christian girl at a Latin mass, not knowing any of the words, or when to do things. But one of the monks took pity on me and gave me one-word instructions: head, hands, eat, drink, keep, toss. After the dismantling of the altar, His Eminence Choeje Ayang Rinpoche gave a soothing talk on using our wisdom and the acceptance of differences. I zoned out for a lot of it, but it was a very pleasing and beneficial-feeling zoning.

His Eminence then gave us each a laminated photo, a business card, and a blessing, and baggies were distributed to take any of the leftover blessed treats.

The actual dissolution of the mandala went rather quickly. H.E. scraped the grains into a pile with a metal pie/cake spatula, put some in a baggie, and then gave each of us a plastic "dime-bag" full to take home. I'd always thought they designed the mandalas as they went, or possibly even followed a plan, but the design was fixed on the board; a sort of sand paint-by-numbers.

We then drove to the Genesee Waterways Center on Elmwood Avenue where more prayers and songs were sung as the grains were cast into the river, all while people stood next to the monks, having others take their pictures. Kind of tacky if you ask me. (Even though it was cold and rather windy by the banks, the monks wore no coats. When I asked one why, the only answer I got was, "No coat.") From there everyone went their separate ways. I went to eat a very late breakfast.

Next up: "A Natural History" at Booksmart, possibly some other art receptions (I'm not promising anything, considering what happened last week), and the VOA tour bus.

I strolled the gallery circuit Friday with the rest of the beautiful people out for free wine and nibbles. The absence of Ed Vesneske at Image City Photography Gallery(722 University Avenue), left a void; he's usually a very strong promoter, greeting visitors right at the front door. Apparently, they no longer need an executive director, so Ed has become "less involved." No one knew what he's up to now.

It's a mighty strange coincidence that I watched the movie "Everything is Illuminated" this weekend after seeing Jessica Marquez's master thesis show at Booksmart Studios. Both of them deal with collecting family items. From my initial take of lots of empty space at Booksmart, I was almost overwhelmed with how much is actually in there.

For the past year or so, each time Marquez would travel to her native California, she'd ask her relatives for photos and trinkets, explain what she was doing, and leave them with a packet of catalogue cards on which to write memories, then return them to her. All of these items create a sort of "mini-museum" of her heritage. The catalog cards fill some of the 45 drawers of an old library card catalog (found through craigslist), and relay memories that read like random bits of diaries: what someone wore to their prom, an argument that took place or how a decision was reached, how grandma would buy them rotisserie chicken as a treat at the market. The rest of the compartments are filled with everything from baby shoes to photos to ID cards to hair to birds' nests to bullet casings, and lots and lots of butterflies.

A little stepstool is provided so that you can peek into even the top drawers and look into every single one, like I did. On the floor are desk drawers on legs made into display cases where other family heirlooms are gathered: report cards, christening dresses, toys, pipes, and even belly buttons, which I found to be a rather revolting/fascinating. There is also a photographic display of Marquez's healing process of a "bloodline" tattoo (a process by which no ink is used), a long stretch of fabric with the family's DNA sequence written on it, just beginning to be embroidered. Within this seemingly empty space there is so much to look at that she has provided a guidebook, "A Key to a Natural History," with correspondingly numbered push pins. Having spent quite a lot of time there, I still need to go back if I want to see it all. The exhibit runs through December 21; Booksmart is located at 250 North Goodman Street. 

From there I went to Steve Carpenter's invitational show. I'd never been there and was surprised at what a large space it is for a local gallery. Even large, it was brimming with people. I especially liked painter Lynette Blake's pieces; her subjects seem to have been pointed out to her by a ray of light from the powers that be.

Next up: VOA Bus Tour

The "Entrepreneurship, Hip-Hop and Def" lecture cancelled on December 5 has been rescheduled to Wednesday, December 12, at 7:30 p.m. Previously purchased tickets will be honored. The lecture takes place at UR's East River Rd Auditorium at 300 E River Rd. Call 275-1402 for info.

I was curious as to who the other travelers would be. What kind of people take a Volunteers of America bus tour? And although all of my friends thought it sounded like a great idea, none of them wanted to go along with me. They had their "excuses." I didn't really have any shopping to do, my only mission being to get the cheesiest holiday pin I could find for Tracey in Classifieds. Even I was hesitant to commit to a whole day held hostage on a bus. So I made plans to rendezvous with a friend half-way through. And what type of bus would we be on? Please, not the "short" bus!

Saturday morning I arrived on time for me, knowing the tour wasn't leaving the Lake Ave store until almost 11 a.m. I walked inside and immediately found "the cheesiest" AND "the treasure" --- a silly pup popping out of a present and a handcrafted pin of a kitten dolled up in Christmas garb. It doesn't sound like much, but believe me, it's precious. I also found another pin and earrings for gifts. I felt like I was already done. What more could I want? I had just enough time to grab a cup of coffee to-go at the hospitality table, which also had other treats, before they announced the bus was ready to leave. Sure ‘nough, it was the short bus.

The ride to Palmyra was used for introductions, a history, and instructions on where we were going and how long we had to shop at each place. Our little tour group was made up of about a dozen women, including me and the two guides, one man, and the bus driver. One grandmother, daughter, and granddaughter were doing it as a way to spend the day together. Another woman had 10 grandkids to buy presents for. Only one woman had taken the tour before (the VOA runs them three times a year). The point of them seems to be to alter our perceptions of shopping at a VOA store so that we don't feel we are shopping at a thrift store. Yeah, I didn't get it either, but apparently they get lots of brand-new items donated by businesses and even list some of the big furniture items on Craigslist.

Having finished all my shopping, in Palmyra (after grazing at the hospitality table) I just strolled around to see if anything jumped out at me. On the bus I'd been fighting with trying to fit everything into my purse, so when I saw a likely candidate for a replacement I snatched it up. A brand new leather Liz Claiborne with pockets for everything, for only $3! While I was getting it rung up one of the women said she liked it and that I almost looked like an adult now. I'm not sure what she meant by that, but it didn't feel like a compliment. She was the same one trying to get me to buy a shower curtain, saying we all should have more than one so we can switch it up.

Back on the short bus we all played an excited game of show and tell. This was starting to get fun! Then we opened our provided box lunches --- which were actually in a festive bag --- and gathered the sustenance needed for the next round. Lunch was a turkey and cheese sub, chips, a Twix bar, and a bottle of water. Also in the bag was a magnet, a pen, some coupons, and promo material.

Next stop: Webster. This is where I planned on jumping bus, but I actually stayed longer than the tour. Once my ride came she started shopping and walked out a pair of pants and a suede jacket heavier. I took on some earrings and a bracelet. Next time I'm gonna stay for the whole tour and make someone go with me, for their own good, of course.

From there we hit the last half of Second Saturdays at Anderson Alley. I told you I'd go back, and I'm a woman of my words. I showed my friend the rugs and scarves; she loved them. I was disappointed that only about half the studios were open and there weren't many people there. I blame it on the sign.

I was very disappointed that I couldn't wear my red coat. It's as red as a Santa suit and made of velvet, and so perfect for a night out to see "White Christmas." It has a wear-life of only about one month a year and in this month, and on this night, it was drizzling. Sigh. Whatever. To get into the spirit, I put the all-Christmas-music "oldies" station on the radio for my ride over. The weather outside might have been frightful, but I was looking to be delighted.

I got my ticket from will call and began to climb to my seat. I climbed, and climbed, and climbed. Up three floors. A bit out of breath, I sat down and evaluated my surroundings. I was five rows from the top of the Auditorium. There were only about two full rows of people up there, so either a lot of people didn't show up, or they just like to spread us out. Actually, there were also a fair amount of empty seats on the balcony below me. I couldn't see the ground floor. As I looked to the stage and noticed even the big marquee-curtain backdrop was fuzzy to me, I chided myself for not bringing binoculars. Lots of people up there had them. Shame on me for not being prepared. Whatever, again. I was still looking to be delighted. And by the look of the many holiday-red sweaters I saw, I wasn't the only one.

Being subject to a call for donations before the show did not delight me. Guaranteed, I did not pay for my $32.50 nose-bleed section ticket (thank you, City), but even if I had, I came here to see some magic, not to have my emotional guilt strings pulled to shell out even more money.

Let the show begin! The pit orchestra was a nice surprise. That my left eye is better than my right was a surprise too, as I switched between them to see which one I could see better with. OK, I'm ranting, but from where I was everything was blurry. No faces, just white skin shining between the costumes, and I was already scheming about hopping to a closer seat during intermission. So, I'll report from a wider view and say the sets were fun and cheesy and retro-clean, and the costumes were bright. The moving of the scenery during the show, and all the tech people on stage, wore rather thin. I later heard that it was supposed to seem like they were shooting a movie of the show, but that was lost on me. I came to see magic, not to see how magic is made. And if I'm not mistaken, maybe they are used to performing on a larger stage? The big dance numbers seemed a bit cramped. And the dancing itself was pretty lackluster, except for the "I Love a Piano" piece.

The acting, from what I could see, was great. David Engle, who plays Phil Davis, had the perfect black-and-white movie twang voice. And the little overall-wearing guy was right out of "Andy Griffith" or something. But it was Karen Murphy as Martha that blew me away. The powerhouse voice of Ethel Merman, the sass of Flo from "Alice," and the quirky timing of Lily Tomlin -- she was a delight!

During intermission, I ran into a friend who had empty seats next to him in the tenth row. Now I was ready to be launched into magic, excitedly awaiting the grand "White Christmas" finale. It was much more fun to actually see the action, but I would have preferred not to have seen the little girl wearing khaki bell-bottomed jeans. Did they even have them in 1942? They disrupted my viewing flow, but not any more than the backdrops coming down, the steel ladders with boom boys being rolled in, and the buildings changing during a scene. I know, I was supposed to imagine a movie being made.

The grand finale was a let down on two counts. One, because the set wasn't all that spectacular, just a Christmas tree in a barn. Secondly, because it wasn't really the finale. After the standing ovation (huh?), and the actors all lined up and did their bows, there was another number. Fake-out! A planned number, only this time fake snow came down on the audience in the front. It was a real crowd-pleaser, especially for the kids. You'd think they'd never seen snow in Rochester. But I noticed most women were wondering about their hair, and I was glad I hadn't worn my red coat.

Next up: Mos Def at UR.

Apparently I'm out of the hip-hop loop. Who's deaf? Mos Def. I suppose I could have researched, but I made a conscious decision not to. The people I know who knew of him gave him rave reviews so I decided to just go with it. Besides, he's really cute! The funny thing is, after I made that decision, I kept hearing little bits and pieces of who he was. In fact, right before I left for the venue I realized I'd seen him in a movie ("Pieces of April") as the boyfriend of Katie Holmes.

This was certainly like no other discussion I'd been to. When I walked in, the auditorium was cranking loud with hip-hop music, people were clapping in time and dancing to the "Cha-Cha Slide." (I asked the kid behind me.) It felt more like a party, or an intro to clubbing. The most active were a few rows of younger kids, brought in by the Boys and Girls Club, according to Jason, the guy lucky enough to sit next to the question-asker. He told me about the U of R's role in fostering entrepreneurship in its programs, entrepreneurship here meaning "creating value of all kinds." It was actually quite an interesting discussion, the whole "creating value" by looking "outside the box" and combining different interests to come up with new approaches. Which was nice, considering 40 minutes after it was supposed to begin, an announcement was made that Mos Def was in the house. But that may have been a rumor.

After waiting a while longer -- all the while the music playing and kids dancing -- I went out and made a few calls, did some date arranging, etc. Whatever I could think to do while stranded at a college campus awaiting an event.

Exactly one hour and 10 minutes after the planned start time, water was placed on the table on stage. I saw this as a good sign. It was also announced that "the curfew" would be extended for the younger members. Meanwhile, the music was still entertaining the crowd, and I now think all meetings should begin this way. When have you ever witnessed people being held up for over an hour, and not only not bitching and whining, but enjoying themselves!?

Mos Def hit the stage at 8:58, just two minutes shy of an hour and a half late. Apparently he missed his first flight and the second was delayed. The night before was his birthday, so I think we should forgive him. And he more than made up for it with what he gave to the audience -- valuable advice.

The first bit was spent with his mother, Sheron Umi Smith, getting a truncated version of her work managing young Def, and then going on to create her own career. She stressed how she believes that kids know their passion at a young age and how we should nurture that. All the while Def sat peacefully sipping water.

The moderator (Bakari Kitwana) then turned his attention to Def, asking him about his appearance on Bill Maher's show. I wasn't familiar with that, but I liked how Def gave kudos to Maher for having people on his show whose opinions he may not agree with.  As for his favorite film role, he mentioned "Something the Lord Made," but was quick to point out that he doesn't like to put them in a comparative context. Ultimately, he said you have to stand by whatever you do.

His most important point to me was -- to steal a phrase -- just do it. He explained how most successful people didn't start out to make money, but just did what they did because it was their passion. That overnight successes happen over 15 years. That it's important to create your environment inside yourself, and that will attract what you need. And what you know gets activated by those new situations.

As for Napster and the whole "how do you make money from something after it has been free" scene, he says he's still trying to work it out himself. Changing a "real estate" biz to a "signal-based" biz is not so easy. He did say that rather than try to make friends with the new technology, the music industry blew it up. He equated the internet to Frankenstein, but with an intelligent vocabulary. In other words, it's not gonna just take orders.

When asked what effects he thought business had on artists, he said people in any business begin to work within the structure of what is expected of them, forgetting what it is they want. They may be going along fine, but inside they sense that they are not getting their full experience. Artists need to resist this and know that the business doesn't exist without them. "Artists create the dream for a society," he said.

The ending Q&A was made up of mostly people pushing their wares. When one young man asked for just five minutes of his time to pitch his music, Def said, a bit exasperated, "It doesn't work like that!" He went on to say that his five minutes wouldn't do anything. That it's only one in a billion people that get famous by someone else plugging them. That he, and most people in his business, were not in a place to do that for anyone else. What really matters is your perception of yourself. Just do it.

Next up: Model trains at Edgerton Community Center.

"I've always wanted to do that," is one of the most common phrases I hear. And it is oft repeated. I heard it again and again as I asked friends to accompany me to the Eighth Annual George Bailey 5K last night. Alas, they still feel that way.

The GB5K is the brainchild of local filmmaker Matt Ehlers. A tribute to the Frank Capra classic "It's A Wonderful Life," it is an absurd charity event involving people of all ages dressing up as their favorite characters in the film (or not), and romping through the East End singing carols and shouting out "Merry Christmas!" in like manner to the final scene of the movie.

The non-race begins at Mex on A-Street. Finding a free parking space in that area is always a challenge, so as I parallel parked directly in front of the building I truly felt like it was a wonderful life. As I made my way through the shoveled path from curb to sidewalk, I seconded it.

I pushed my way past the costumed and not-costumed crowd to the registration desk and got my race tag, No. 4. They had started at 100, so I was near last to register. Then I had a shot of whiskey to brace myself against the cold outside.

At 8 o'clock we gathered on the front steps and received our instructions via megaphone from Mike Koldan. It is not a race, but a slow trot. Spread Christmas cheer by shouting out Merry Christmas whenever the mood moves you. We will stop here and here and here to sing carols. Pass the lyric sheets around. We then sang "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" (I think) to get the party started and as we finished, a saxophone began to play a la Lisa Simpson. She ended with the race song "Horses to the Gate" and we were off!

We all trotted and slipped down the sidewalk until we got to the first church. There we huddled onto the steps and sang the first carol. From there we filed up over the inner loop over pass (Merry Christmas, Inner Loop! Merry Christmas, Arena's!) and stopped across from Spot Coffee. Christmas miracles of miracles, there was a horn quartet playing outside. Asked if they knew "Joy to the World," we then had an impromptu jam with the temporarily named Coffee All-Stars, the street between us becoming a magical awning for the cars that slowed down to watch. The wee Zuzu's in front were an angelic spin.

We commenced trotting and shouting (Merry Christmas, Little Theatre! Merry Christmas, Channel 10! Merry Christmas, Hi-Fi!) and then curved around the courtyard of the church beside RoCo (or whatever it's called these days). There was then a vote between singing "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas," with my holly jolly vote losing out. I guess "Hark" is more befitting a church courtyard, but I thought "Holly" would be jolly.

From there we crossed the street and gathered at Metro Salon for eggnog, a final carol ("Auld Lang Syne"), the announcement of the official count (115!) and door prizes. I didn't win any (boo-hoo), but some people are probably eating an Italian meal or getting their nails done today.

Prior to this year, I was in the "I've always wanted to do that" camp. Now it will become one of my holiday traditions. It's hilarious, absurd, ridiculous, and way fun. It IS a wonderful life, and if someone finds a more silly charity, Ehlers says he'll buy it.

Next up: Trains at Edgerton CC

Anyplace that greets me with cookies is alright by me. And if they let me play with their toys, I'll probably come back. Edgerton's Model Train Room gets my version of a Gold Star for giving me both.

Built way back in the 50's, it really is an entire room of model trains, but it's set up more like four rooms, each representing a season, and each with its own theme. During the 90's the Edgerton Train Club, which runs the room, left, and it fell into disrepair. Then about four years ago John Ciavarro, who was a member during the 80's, returned to help restore it to its former glory. Now the president of the ETC, Ciavarro has completely rewired the set-up using current technology, yet kept its nostalgic design. Even the subway still exists (he says Rochester is the smallest city in the world to ever have one).

At each season-section there is a big control board with lots of buttons and knobs. OK, that doesn't sound very fun, but fellow button and knob lovers get it. These buttons and knobs run the hundreds of miles of wire neatly sorted under the control board -- I looked -- and control the trains and moving models. And each season-section has its own theme with its own little curiosities. Summer has Seabreeze in the distance with the Jack Rabbit;Spring's Pittsford has The Depot and a graveyard. It also has a replica of Pennsylvania's Starrucca Viaduct. Winter has skaters skating, Santa flying, and even a car pulling up to order at a McD's drive-thru. Fall looks like Letchworth with a tightrope walker over the falls and a gas station with cars going in and out of the garage.

The soothing sound of the trains, the glass wall displays of "retired" trains, and the vintage art deco Leslie Ragan posters all create an everyone's-a-kid-at-heart magical ambience. I'm not a model train buff, but for the time I was there, I recognized just about everyone really is.