I'm Back and Off For Turkish Tea

And I am ready to draft new lists, send emails, make calls - and make the art work for this exhibition called Second Seating. It's gotten short shrift for a couple of weeks, except that I noticed chandeliers where ever we travelled. I photographed them and examined how they were constructed. But other than that? I've got to get busy. Media packets were mailed the day I flew to Istanbul and surely they've been received by now and all are thrilled to have a potential story or a calendar listing. That would be the hope here.
It may take another day or two to get back in the groove. I suspect I may have to go to the Turkish store in Houston to buy a Turkish tea pot and a pound or a kilo of Turkish tea. My sister says I write about it as if it were rocket fuel.





And so it was during the trip to four cities in Turkey over nine days. It was served morning, noon and night in little glasses that came with two lump of sugar. After a day or two in Turkey, I couldn't have done without it. Love it. It is rocket fuel. Red Bull beware. Is there a way to incorporate it into Second Seating, except to drink it while installing the exhibition? That should bring the magic out.

Chandelier Inspiration in Instanbul

Of course. There are chandeliers in Istanbul and the great mosques and churches that I want to bring home for Second Seating. Yesterday I fell in love with Hagia Sophia and could have spent hours there, from early morning until evening watching the light, walking among the columns, staring down from the balconies to the great space below. The chandeliers were magical. Some were resting on the floor, temporarily felled by scaffolding and repairs. I liked their darkness and mystery, like giant wreaks in need of reclamation.

Later in the afternoon, we toured the Blue Mosque and once again, I was enchanted by the lighting and the way it was designed and constructed. Ideas for the chandelier man in Houston who is constructing chandeliers for Second Seating. All the lighting is so low - just over our heads. Perhaps ten feet in the air. And then the domes stretch upward, far beyond us.