Truth

"Judaism is not about being Jewish, it's a Way to be more deeply human."

-Rabbi Irwin Kula

"Art is a human activity having for its purpose the transmission to others of the highest and best feelings to which men have risen."

-Leo Tolstoy

This weekend I stayed at my friend Caroline's for Shabbat. Caroline and I met at Camp Hillel, a Modern Orthodox sleep-away camp, and though we express our Judaism in very different ways, we have been dear friends for nearly ten years.

During a conversation about our observance levels, Caroline said to me that she often feels regretful for not being more observant than she is. When she told me this, I said "--but Caroline, you are the most observant person I know! You only wear skirts below the knee and shirts to the elbow, you observe Shabbat in every sense, pray at least once a day, keep the strictest version of kashrut, and the list goes on! You observe the halachot (traditional jewish rituals/legal practices) that make your life meaningful to you. It's not about doing everything."

"I guess," Caroline said.

Dissatisfied with Caroline's answer I channeled my father and said, "What I mean is that the point of halacha is to increase your consciousness toward all your daily activities, to heighten your awareness of what's going on in the world around you, and to thereby enhance your quality of life, halachot are tools we can use to help us live more humanly."

"No," Caroline responded. "It's not always about making life meaningful, sometimes it's about observing a law, whether you understand it or not, simply because it's written in the torah and the torah is the truth."

I understood that Caroline meant that at times the meaning of the halachot rest in surrendering, not searching for the immediate utilitarian purpose, an experience that in and of itself helps us live more humanly and ethically. However, to me, there is much more to living truthfully than following halachot, as deeply humbling and affirming as that can be.

***

I am definitely "religious." To me, being religious means being profoundly in touch with the spiritual, practical, ethical, or cultural components of one's religion.

My father is a Rabbi - in fact he's a seventh generation clergyman - religion essentially runs in my genes. My parents traditionally observe halachot like kashrut and the sabbath, and culturally speaking we're as Jewish as can be: we live on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, go to Miami for Passover, love and visit Israel even though we sometimes disagree with Israeli political decisions, and schedule all activities around food, (more about that another time)... To top that off, my sister and I studied at yeshiva (Orthodox Jewish day school) through 8th grade, went to high school at a pluralistic Jewish day school, and reinforced our Jewishness by attending synagogue on sabbaths and holidays.

At S.A.R., my yeshiva, I learned fundamental Jewish values that will stick with me for a lifetime: respect, gratitude, inclusivity, devotion, and a love for learning - to name a few.

At Heschel, my Jewish high school, I learned to aggressively challenge tradition while remaining deeply proud of my Jewish heritage; I learned the importance of innovation and social activism, and I found that Judaism is not so dissimilar from other religions and thus bridges are better than boundaries.

At synogogue, I found role models in strong, high powered women who are leaders of the egalitarian movement. I also learned the importance of community and the true meaning of Bill Withers' song "Lean on Me" - in fact, my community is the tightest knit I've seen.

And in my own home I learned to integrate into my daily life all of the values I described above, and I learned the incomparable value of family.

Though some would say I am no longer halachicly observant, I do still honor all of the profoundly Jewish values I've just described.

Take social consciousness, respect, and gratitude as examples. I live those values daily through my own version kashrut. When I am in the supermarket, though I do not look for the hashkacha (rabbinical seal of kashrut), I do look at every ingredient in everything I buy to ensure my health and the health of those I am cooking for. I try to buy grass fed, hormone free meats, and organic, local produce, in an effort to respect the animals, the planet, and myself. I make an effort to eat slowly, consume food in moderation, and think about how blessed I am to have enough to eat and to have a choice of what I eat each time I sit down for a meal.

As for inclusivity, family, and community, I live those values through the ways I practice shabbat. I may use electricity, transportation, and money on the sabbath, but regardless every Friday night, I make sure to eat with family and friends. Moreover, though I have not lived with my parents in four years, I've never forgotten to call them for my blessing. (It is customary for parents to bless their children at the beginning of the sabbath.)

Regarding devotion, learning, and challenging, though I don't actively study the bible, I do read about what's happening in the world on a daily basis, I don't blindly accept what I'm told, and I put my all into any task I set out to accomplish.

***

My Bubbi Charlotte, Z"L (of blessed memory), used to always say that if you are astutely aware of the world around you, bring a sense of consciousness to everything you do, and embrace peoples' differences, you will see that everything and everyone is a piece of art.

Following with this thought, my Poppi recently taught me that the hebrew word for artist is AMN and the hebrew word for art is AMaNüt; the roots of those two words are the same as the roots of the words AMeN, which is said after a blessing and means truth, and AMüNa, which means faith.

***

To both me and Caroline, life's about bringing people together by accepting and working to understand others ("Love thy neighbor as thyself"), living ethically and bringing passion to everything we do (gemilut chasadim and avodah), and expressing ourselves in ways that beautify and help the world (tikkun olam).

Whether you consider that torah or art, we can all agree that by living out these values, we are living faithfully, we are living the truth.

Being Busy

During my short blogging hiatus I've been busy with several exciting things:

1. I became Annie Cohen-Solal's assistant. Those of you who don't know of Annie should definitely Google her because she's an incredibly important writer, teacher, and figure in the world of art and culture related politics. Knopf is about to release her third book, Leo and His Circle: The Life of Leo Castelli. The book has already been reviewed by countless news sources and tomorrow there will be a review of the book in the New York Times, so keep your eyes peeled! (By the way, I am now working for Annie in the mornings and interning at Gagosian Gallery in the afternoons - talk about pressure! Oh well, nothing better than a thrillingly full, and might I add hectic/stressful, life!)

2. I submitted my MoMA twelve-month internship application, (though sadly I realized that when opened on a version of Word other than mine, the link to this blog gets cut from my resume).

3. I started a new blog: www.rookietoart.blogspot.com . Unlike this blog, through which I share events occurring in my life as well as my own aesthetic preferences, my new blog will be filled with imaginary conversations that take place between me and an art rookie. The conversations intend to show ways that art can be made accessible for people with absolutely no knowledge of art at all; in other words, I'm showing how engaging art can be, even for newbies. The idea for Rookie to Art stemmed from a question I responded to on the MoMA application, which was something like 'why are you applying for this position at MoMA?' I realized that quite clearly the reason that I applied for the curatorial internship at MoMA is because I have grown up on MoMA, have a deep love for their collection, and I want to help make their artwork meaningful to others. I fear that currently modern art museums cater toward an audience well versed in art history and theory, leaving those most in need of guidance, (the majority,) to fend for themselves. So, I thought, what better way to express the sentiment that art can be brought to life for everyone than to show my ability to do so?! And next thing I knew I'd written imaginary conversations between me and art-rookies, in which I help people feel confident in their ability to understand MoMA's art, giving them a taste that leaves them wanting more... The first of my MoMA rookie conversations is the one I submitted to MoMA within my application - it takes place in the Jackson Pollock gallery. The second conversation is the one currently posted on the blog - feel free to check it out. I have many more pending and hope to expand beyond MoMA's collection one day.

On a side note, though as always not entirely, I must say that I have the most interesting conversations about art with Andrew Kurland, (the friend who introduced me to the work of J. Siegan, who I posted about a few weeks ago). He often sends me links to artists and works he finds interesting; in fact, I think he told me about Maira Kalman vis-a-vis her New York Times blog And the Pursuit of Happiness, through which she never fails to churn out the most engaging and funny illustrated, completely random stories.

Anyway, I've been thinking about Gerhard Richter lately in light of my promise to share details/thoughts on the Richter exhibition that Alexander and I saw in Florence. I haven't yet come up with a full riff on Richter, but I did find the piece below which I shared with Andrew because I find it both interesting and beautiful.

I told Andrew that I like the colors, the movement, and the silky feeling which the medium produces. He agreed, adding that it looks like an ocean. I thought for a second and said, "The ocean!?! Yeah, maybe when the plague of blood hit Egypt!" So this piece changed from conjuring the image of a child exquisitely attuned to color theory, to a plague infested mess. (Or as Andrew noted, it could be the backdrop of an 80's dance party, shoulder pads and all, but that's besides the point...)

But fun and games aside, one of the qualities I admire about Andrew is his deep effort to be psychologically aware and emotionally conscious. So, channeling Andrew as I rode the subway home today, I thought of the potential subconscious reasons I might like the piece. Call this analysis simplistic but to me this painting is a bundle of excitement in an aggressive environment, that all in all seems to be a bit of a mess, a little confused. I cannot tell my life story in one sentence, but I'd say that describes me pretty aptly right now.

1. Cover of Annie Cohen-Solal's new book Leo and His Circle: The Life of Leo Castelli, which is for sale this week!

2. Gerhard Richter, G.A.4 (21.1.84), 1984. Colored ink, watercolor, pencil, and crayon on paper. Museum of Modern Art, New York.

Someone Great

Sharon probably hasn't seen my last post yet, so before she does I thought I'd post this video to make amends. It's the music video for a song by LCD Soundsystem called "Someone Great." Sharon, Yael, and I went to the filming of the video with Seth in Brooklyn several years ago - I think the whole video is pretty radical, but if you are pressed for time fast forward to 2:46...

There you have it, a whole three seconds of just Sharon's stunning eyes. See, I wasn't lying in my last post when I said Sharon is beautiful. And you can be rest assured her beauty extends far deeper than the physical.

Horse Races

My friend Andrew Kurland just asked me what I thought of the painting above, which is by artist J. Siegan, a friend of Andrew's father. My own personal aesthetic aside, I noted the interesting juxtaposition between the Asian inspired feeling of the work, with its quick and minimal black brushstrokes, and the very western subject matter.

After my comment, Andrew paused for a second and then asked, "What's western about it?"

"It's a dude on a skateboard, what could be more western than that?" I said.

"That's interesting," he said, "because I see a guy in a full lotus position, meditating, crying."

I see what Andrew's saying, but I'm not convinced given that Siegan is influenced by both the Zen school and the city of Chicago. However, Siegan also cites Robert Motherwell as an influence, and while I certainly don't see that in the painting above, I do see it in the painting to the left, which I, unlike Andrew, much prefer...

And there you have it - that's what makes horse races...

Or perhaps more appropriately, given the theme of this blog - nothing better than space for interpretation and individual opinion...

____

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1. Jerry Siegan, #60.

2. Jerry Siegan, Yearning for the Past.

Originality

As I mentioned in a previous post, Linda was here this week. This meant adventuring to new neighborhoods, visiting new art galleries, discovering new beautiful buildings and corners of the city, being introduced to new types of coffee, eating delicious food, (Baccala, which is creamy-pureed-dried-salted-cod, a Venetian specialty, being her new favorite,) conversing about art and life, (two of our favorite topics,) and being reunited with New York City.

In my mind, Linda has always been representative of New York City. Yeah she may be from Kansas City, but she's lived in NYC for longer than I, and she's totally the quintessential New Yorker; you know, the artsy type who's always running from meetings at museums, to get-togethers with friends, to some hidden chocolate shop or patisserie to pick up a perfect little treat that might get squished on her way uptown but is destined to be utterly delicious nonetheless. She's the type who always knows the best place to find anything one might want or need, from food, to clothes, to beautiful things, to services, etc, in NYC or abroad. Oh, and she has the best taste in everything. As I think about it, perhaps you don't know a Linda type, because truthfully I don't really know anyone else like Linda. Linda is unique.

Unique is a funny word. On my Heschel high school application I was asked a very strange question: "what one quality makes you unique?" Well, I guess the question isn't as strange as asking what your preschooler's greatest accomplishment is, which is a question that’s asked on many NYC preschool applications, but that's a side point...

Anyway, I responded with a critique of the question. No one quality makes me unique. Any one thing I think, feel, love, or do, has certainly been experienced by someone else before, thus the only thing that is unique about me is the amalgamation of qualities that I embody, passions that I have, and experiences that I've lived through and learned from, which together make me who I am. And the best part is that at any given moment we are all in states of evolution. In other words, I am Gabriella-ing, Linda is Linda-ing, and the rest of you are in the midst of your own processes. And those combinations, those processes, are precisely what make us each unique.

With that said, it is natural that we seek to find what makes us, and the things we love and find interesting, unique. This desire stems from a fear, or a distaste for being a copy, or nothing but a number.

This is a feeling we often project upon works of art. We long to find works that we consider original – a sentiment I expressed in relation to Erwin Wurm’s work, which sparked interesting conversation about unique-ness and originality among my friends. (See their posts in response to my post.) Though we tend to agree that different feelings are produced by seeing, or experiencing art that we deem unique, we may not agree on what is unique or reappropriated, original or imitated. Regardless, we deal with this desire to find what is original, by using language to convince others of our point of view.

So desperate to communicate the experiences we feel, we continuously clarify ourselves, using a continuum of terms… We converse, and sometimes argue, but in the end there is no getting it right, because ultimately the question of uniqueness, the question of originality, is all a matter of interpretation. However, the reasons for those differences in opinions, along with the differences in the ways we express them, in and of themselves lie at the heart of what makes us each unique.

On that note, I can confidently say that Linda is among the most unique people I have met, and New York is among the most unique cities I have been to. And god, less than 48 hours after Linda has gone, I’m missing her and missing New York more than ever. But, leave it to New York Magazine, the most unique magazine I know, to come up with an article that reminds a girl that there is no place like home, at least if New York is where you call home… Check out New York Magazine’s "The Ultimate New York Playlist": http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2010/03/the_ultimate_new_york_playlist.html

Traveling

I know I’m always making excuses for my lack of updates, but this time I actually have a good one. My boyfriend, Alexander, was in town! He got here on the 20^th, his birthday, and we spent three days in Venice, two in Milan, and three in Florence. The week was the best of my life, though naturally too short…

The first few moments were surreal. 56 days had passed since Alexander and I had last seen each other and when I surprised him at the airport, part of me felt like no time had passed at all, while the other part felt like it had been forever. But enough with the sentimental, cliche stuff, since I already gave you a full dose of that in my last post…

Onto the art we saw and some of the fun, and funny, experiences we had during our travels!

Here in Venice we visited Palazzo Grassi and Punta Della Dogana, the Francois Pinault Foundation museums / two of my favorite museums in the world! I was excited to take Alexander to the museums because I’ve already been to both several times, analyzed the works, and learned enough to give him guided tours. Though I focused my academic studies primarily on modern art, my love for Palazzo Grassi and Punta Della Dogana have gotten my contemporary art juices flowing as of late. In my typical fashion I cannot select just one favorite work from the collections, however a piece that stands out in my mind is Takashi Murakami’s Kawaii! (2002). Kawaii is the Japanese word for “cute,” however according to Japanese culture, these flowers are not cute at all because it is considered quite rude to show your open mouth, as the Kawaii flowers do. As such, Murakami’s intention here, as is the case in many of his works, is to question the Japanese fetish with cutesy, kitschy things. He has suggested that this strange obsession stems from the emasculation of the Japanese people and their culture during WWII. When I told this to Alexander, he noted that paradoxically Japanese business is still very connected to the Samurai mentality, or code; for example, Honda didn’t trash talk Toyota when they were having issues recently, though of course in the U.S. Ford and G.M. had no problem doing so.

On a side note, over the past few weeks I’ve learned a lot about Murakami, and I really wish I could rewind a year or so and revisit his massive retrospective that was held at the Brooklyn museum, which I found interesting though I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time. Does anyone have thoughts about the exhibition or about Murakami in general? I know his work is controversial in terms of it’s relationship to consumer culture, sexuality, etc…

Anyway, in Venice we also visited the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, obviously, and while I worked, Alexander wandered the museum and enjoyed coffee with my lovely coworkers, which made me happy because one of the things I love most about Alexander is that he always makes an effort to connect with my friends…

The Milan segment of our journey began in a (mildly) unpleasant way: first Alexander and I walked to the train station in the rain – Alexander doesn’t like walking, or rain. Our train was delayed. The four-star Splendido Hotel, which we booked online and was supposedly located in the city’s center, turned out to be a negative-four-star dump, two miles from the city, which Alexander and I dubbed the Splendoodoo. The distress caused by the situation led Alexander and I to cab our way to the Four-Seasons where we sat in silence drinking our ten-euro coffee for the next several hours. That’s when our fairy godmother arrived on the scene, i.e. the phone, to save the day, or perhaps the trip – within moments we booked a new room in a chic, “design hotel” called the Straf, which was just steps from the Duomo. Unfortunately, while the grand hotel switch turned on the lights in our new room, the lights were turned off at Santa Maria delle Grazie, disabling us from seeing Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper, for which I had booked a reservation three weeks ago. The experience was reminiscent of my having missed the Sistine Chapel in Rome, so I cried for a few minutes and then went to relish in the comforts of the Straf and prepare for one of many delicious dinners.

Milan day two: We woke up and went to Novecento, Milan’s Civic Museum of Contemporary Art, however upon our arrival we found out that the museum will be closed for renovations until 2011, or 2012, which seemed nothing less than fitting, given my range of recent art viewing failures. Without skipping a beat we hit the Duomo, and though the outside is astoundingly detailed and gorgeous, the inside is not nearly as impressive as Venice’s fully mosaic-ed, golden interior. Regardless, Alexander and I enjoyed hypothesizing about how people were able to build such a colossal structure, over 500 years ago.

Next we went to the Steve McCurry exhibition, which was beautiful and moving, but also a painful reminder of all of the injustice in our world. With exception to the famous picture of the Afghan girl that was on the cover of National Geographic, (who by the way was found and photographed again just a few years ago,) I hadn’t seen any other works by McCurry. Aesthetically speaking the works are just beautiful – vibrant colors and handsome people – in fact, based on a quick glance at his lighthearted works, I’d venture to call him The Sartorialist of the developing world (See www.thesartorialist.blogspot.com .) However, as Alexander and I proceeded deeper into the exhibition it became clear that McCurry’s works are in fact quite heavy, as their content often relates to the effects of war and the oppression of children. Below I've posted McCurry's photograph of a Peruvian boy that I found just heart wrenching and continued to think about for the rest of the trip. There were no text panels discussing the content of the photos, however the curators did post the Declaration of the Rights of the Child as devised by the U.N. in the 1959. Seeing McCurry’s photos alongside the Declaration reminded me of the amazing animated shorts Seth did on the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the rights of minority children, for the Human Rights Action Center and UNICEF respectively, which you can check out on his website at www.sethbrau.com.

A couple of food related pit stops later, we ventured on to the Triennale Design Museum. Though their permanent collection was entirely uninteresting to us, (and in fact featured many things that Alexander and I personally own, like an espresso maker I just bought for him and Mitch and my Persol sunglasses,) the institution was housing a Roy Lichtenstein retrospective, which was quite comprehensive and very well curated. When I say well curated, I mean that the organization of the works and text panels spark a sense of curiosity in the viewers that create excitement to enter the next room and continue to learn more about the artist and works on display… Though Lichtenstein’s most famous works, like Whaam! (1963) and Drowning Girl (1963) were not on display, there were several works from his Brushstroke series, which I love because of their ability to combine two of my favorite, though they are nearly opposite, movements, Abstract Expressionism and Pop Art. To the left you can see a picture I took of Naomi last summer, in front of Brushstroke (1996-2003), which stands outside of the Hirschhorn Museum of Art in Washington D.C.

After the Triennale, we headed back to the hotel for the Louis Vuitton fashion week party, which was hosted by our hotel! There we drank lots of champagne and observed Milanese hipsters at their finest. Interestingly, many of the men were dressed as women, and women as men, (Alexander called this “tranny-chic,” which I thought was very funny,) and lots of people brought their dogs as accessories.

Off to Florence!

In Florence we stayed with good family friends Amy and Richie at their beautiful apartment. In addition to hospitably opening their home to us, they also helped us find fun things to do, and took us out to dinner, both nights of our stay, to two delicious restaurants… So thank you, thank you, thank you Amy and Richie for your generosity.

We devoted our first day in Florence to wandering the city, which in and of itself was a beautiful experience. The second day, we visited Palazzo Strozzi where we saw the Gerhard Richter and Giorgio De Chirico exhibitions. The Gerhard Richter exhibition was fabulous and deserves its very own post, which is coming soon. The De Chirico exhibition was only okay, though perhaps I’m biased because my favorite De Chirico is at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection. Additionally, Palazzo Strozzi’s De Chirico exhibition was cluttered up with Max Ernst works, (Max Ernst and the rest of the Surrealists were heavily influenced by De Chirico,) and I don’t like Ernst’s work at all, though the PGC owns dozens because, as I previously mentioned, he was, for a period, married to Peggy.

Next we headed to the Boboli Gardens, which were utterly stunning – the weather was beautiful, the trees were budding, and from the top there was a beautiful vista of the entirety of Florence. We proceeded to visit the Duomo, of course, and then headed home to prepare for dinner and a night of dancing at the Michael Jackson tribute night of a local discotechque.

On our final day, we went to the Accademia to see Michelangelo’s David (1501-1504), which we thought was displayed alongside Robert Mapplethorpe’s photos, but unfortunately, or should I at this point say expectantly, that exhibition had already been taken down and we thus saw nothing more than the exhibition catalogue at the museum’s gift shop. With that said, I was very moved when I saw David in the flesh, or maybe I should say in the stone, because it is a sculpture that I have seen, or has at least been referenced in every single art history class I have taken.

On that note, I’ll leave you with this funny little photo-log of “David’s visit to the U.S.” To wonderful adventures and good health! Enjoy!

1. Takashi Murakami, Kawaii, 2002. Acrylic on canvas mounted on board. François Pinault Collection, Venice.

2. Alexander on the train to Milan, smiling excitedly about having been forced by me to walk in the rain for thirty minute carrying both of our suitcases. Thanks for being the best boyfriend / friend ever.

3. Alexander and me in front of Milan’s Duomo.

4. Steve McCurry, Afghan Girl, 1884.

5. Steve McCurry, Young Boy in Peru, 2004.

6. Naomi in front of Lichtenstein’s Brushstroke outside of the Hirschhorn Museum in D.C. in 2009.

7. Alexander and me in our room at the Straf just after the Louis Vuitton Fashion Week party in Milan.

8. Me in the courtyard of Palazzo Strozzi.

9. Me at the top of the Boboli Gardens.

10. Michelangelo’s David after his trip to the U.S.

Birthdays

Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of your birthday wishes. Each and every one meant more to me than you know, especially because I am so far, physically, from many of the people I love most.

With that said, I had a wonderful birthday here in Venice! At the end of the workday, the PGC crew presented me with a poster of one of my favorite Picassos, which they all signed with sweet birthday messages; then we all headed back to my place for drinks, cake, music, and conversation. And I must say, Giulia and Jess really outdid themselves with their great gifts! (Art, fashion, and food - what more could a girl ask for?!?)

Birthdays are funny and in some ways paradoxical in their ability to make us both nostalgic and future focused.... On that note, here are a few of my birthday memories and wishes:

1) For each birthday until our Bat-Mitzvahs, Mommy, Talia and I made homemade cakes in bear shaped cake tins for our birthdays. Mom would take us to the candy store to pick out candy with which to decorate our cakes and we’d spend hours strategically adorning our bears with M&Ms and gummy worms. (It was always an especially good year if Abba could come to the candy store too, because that meant that we could get extra candy to eat on the way home and possibly a giant jaw-breaker that would nearly last until our next birthdays…) Funny that art and cooking are now my two favorite hobbies! Actually, my mom has always been creative in those sorts of ways – when we were young she insisted we make handmade cards for all occasions and until this day we still uphold that tradition!

I hope that my family will always be a source of creative inspiration for me, and I for them.

2) As a child, my leap-day birthday made me the brunt of a lot of "baby" jokes. For example, my best family friends Zach and Micah Fredman used to tease me about my age: when I was six they'd laugh at me and tell me that I was only one and a half, when I was eight, they'd mock me for being but two... Of course, at the time in my life when even quarter years were of the utmost importance, their jokes were extremely offensive, but now at the ripe old age of twenty-two I'm shocked by how quickly time has passed and though I would not ever want to go back in time, a part of me longs for the simplicity of childhood, particularly where emotions are concerned.

I hope that I will always have the ability to be self-reflective and emotionally aware, and that I will continue to be blessed with the amazing support system that I have now.

3) On my fifteenth birthday I was at the supermarket with my dad and we bumped into my lifelong friend Liviya Kraemer, who had planned to have me and two other friends over for a birthday sleepover that night. Liviya was carrying three large Entenmann’s cakes when I bumped into her. I noted that three cakes was excessive, but she casually responded with, “never too much cake.” As we were leaving the supermarket my dad said to me, “funny that we bumped into Livi buying cakes for your surprise party tonight.” I laughed and said, “Abba, it’s not a surprise party!” My friends always joke about my gullible nature and rightfully so, because yes, to my complete surprise, twenty or so friends were at Livi’s house that evening for one of the best birthday celebrations of my life.

I hope that my lifelong friendships continue to prosper and that the new friendships I have made here, and will continue to make throughout my life, will be equally valuable to me.

4) For my and Alexander’s 20^th and 22^nd birthdays we took a trip to Paris and for our 22^nd and 24^th birthdays, just days ago, we went to Milan and Florence… Details to come in my next post!

I hope that I will always be fortunate enough to travel to new and exciting places and share meaningful experiences with people I love.

Most of all, I hope to retain the loving and connecting energy that has been sent my way over the past 24 hours and to share that positive energy with all of you…

Oh and by the way, check out this video Mitch made for me in honor of my birthday. By far the best birthday card I have ever, ever received. Thank you.

Happy Birthday from mitchell Suter on Vimeo.