A New Composition: The Tower of Babel

Throughout my life I have been drawn to painting and writing since my words seem to continually fail me. Of late, it seems that if I manage to stammer out a response, it is quite unintelligible to anyone who hears me.

Nonreligious as I am, through all of my miscommunications, I keep recalling a story I heard when I first came to this country, that of the building of the tower of Babel in the land of Shinar. "They are one people and have one language, and nothing will be withholden from them which they purpose to do" The people yearned to build a tower to reach the heavens, so they can always be united in knowledge and understanding. "God," learning of this plan said "let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech. So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth: and they left off to build the city." (Genesis, The Bible).

The story has been coming to my mind recently as I have encountered people who seem to exceed at communication, and so frequently fail at action and others who stammer to be heard. The name of the tower and the city which held it, as it later came to be called, originated from the Hebrew word "babal" which means to jumble, confuse or confound. It hit a cord with me, this structure which seemed to be destined for incredible greatness, but failed at our inability to listen and hear each other. It seemed a great opportunity to explore a variety of gestures and figural compositions, as well as the necessity for a great depth of field and architectural elements which have been missing in much of my earlier work.

Since my last visit to the Getty Center in Los Angeles where I saw Printing in the Grand Manner: Charles Le Brun and Monumental Prints in the age of Louis XIV, I have been increasingly interested and influenced by Charles Le Brun, and somewhat more significantly by the exquisite black and white prints created from his works by his contemporaries and followers.

There is a really great sense of movement created by curving bridges and horses falling and thrashing through bodies of water. Although this piece is significantly more stagnant and disjointed due to the lack of correlation between the characters, I have spent a lot of time looking at Le Brun's compositions and hope to claim some influence therefrom.

There are a few adjustments I need to make with some of the character proportions and gestures, but I am happy with the overall composition and wanted to share!

Also, I have taken a much better shot of Happiness is Only Real When Shared:

Penguin Classics Cloth Bound Collection

I have been reminded of late that I have been sadly remiss in keeping up with my blog this past month. My sincere apologies to those who have noticed and have taken the time out to send me a message. I am gratified to know that I have at least a few devoted followers. Thank you guys!

I have found myself in a bit of a hibernation since the New Year. With the shortening of the days, I have had little opportunity to explore the city after work and many of my habitual crafty projects have been temporarily set aside while I completed my graduate school application. You will be glad to know that the application was mailed off last week, and I am ready to get back into my routine.

Throughout my somewhat drawn out dormancy, I have busied myself during the long, dark evenings by reading and re-reading some of my favorite classic novels. Revisiting Oddysseus's long trials and tribulations in Homer's Oddysey, reliving Heathcliff's monstrous passion and hatred for his life-long love Catherine in Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights and discovering the hardships a young woman can endure in her whole-hearted love for an absent, unloving husband in Tess of the D'Ubervilles by Thomas Hardy have been the relish of many an evening hour.

I have been slowly working on building up my library, much to my own detriment as I will be lugging all of my volumes across state lines in a few short months. I have never been able to heed my own warnings about the breadth of my ever-increasing collection, and have of late, fallen for a brand new temptation. Up until a few months ago, my precious classic stories were found in tattered and creased Barnes and Noble's paperbacks and the few vintage volumes I have been able to find in the over-searched shelves of New York's antiquarian bookstores.

In 2008, Penguin Classics, an imprint of Penguin Books, started releasing incredibly beautiful cloth bound editions of some of my most precious novels. For a long time, these editions were only available in England but thanks to America's need for, well everything, the beautiful books have been appearing with increasing frequency of the past year. As it stands, 20 different books are available in the states of authors ranging from Dante and Shakespeare to Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters.

The books are lovely compact size cloth-bound editions with bright and charming covers. Cover designs and intro page illustrations were created by Coralie Bickford Smith. Upon first encountering these charming volumes, I made a pact with myself to only read novels that are available in this edition until I have a copy of each one. Collecting these books have been among my main occupations these past few months and I am happy to share them with you.

Check back in with me in the coming weeks for updates on my paintings and other creations that I have failed to properly update with in the past month.

Cheers

When You Can't Afford Christmas

Do you remember the days when all you had to do was bake a tray of cookies and set out a glass of milk for presents to arrive fully wrapped and tinseled underneath your tree? Since then we have been assimilated into the month and a half of frantic shopping and pillaging to provide our friends and loved ones with the perfect and most impressive gifts.

The validity of a gift has become the whopping price tag, and the esteem with which you hold a loved one can only be expressed by how many weeks pay you poured into the filling of their gift-wrap. Of all the gifts I have received from friends, the ones that I cling to the most fondly are those that were made for me: hand written cards, silly drawings and folded candy wrappers clutter my walls in matching frames. Much to my best friend's embarrassment, I have kept a silly purple pillow with "raf and dar friends 4----->" coarsely stitched into it since fall of 2005 when he gave it to me for my birthday. Aren't time and love really the only things we can truly give each other? If we are competing to give each other equally priced gifts, why don't we just exchange blank checks and go buy ourselves whatever we wanted in the first place.

Every year, I try to show my friends that I really care about them. I build books and stuff handmade dolls, bake cakes and build things it would be much easier just to buy, but this year it seems I couldn't even afford to buy the paper and canvas to fuel my workshop. This year, I decided that maybe it is enough to bake a tray of cookies and set out a glass of milk.

I am constantly collecting beautiful boxes and ribbons, in fact I get things gift wrapped for myself, so I can come home, unwrap them and reuse the unique trimming. I filled my preciously collected bins and baggies with four of my favorite cookie recipes. I spent the greater part of two days rolling dough and filling pastry bags, tying bows and rolling ribbon. I made heart shaped lemon shortbread cookies with raspberry filling, coconut macaroon cookies with a chocolate drizzle, miniature pecan tarts with lemon zest and chocolate macaron sandwich cookies with an almond buttercream filling.

Much to my disappointment, I found baking specialty cookies is no less expensive than making any other gift, but I was happy with the results and I hope that my friends know that I truly love all of them and wish them each a happy holiday and spectacular new year.

Much love,

Daria

Soup of the week: Russian Borscht

Each week, I have found myself jumping from continent to continent sampling soups from all around the world, and in this third installment, I bring you the soup that I grew up on, Borscht. This soup has an incredible history, and thousands of varieties, in fact, everyone I have met seems to have a different recipe for the soup. Some call for sausage or veal, others stick with chunks of beef and potato, but we all can agree on three ingredients: beets, cabbage and sour cream!

This soup has a tremendous number of memories for me: from evenings sitting in a sunflower themed kitchen with my chin barely reaching over the kitchen table to high school days coming home from school and frantically putting out soup pot fires, where a lonely blackened beet rested at the bottom of a dried out pot.

I used to spend the summers with my younger brother and my grandmother Ada in a little cottage in the woods. She would make us amazing, fresh soups with ingredients plundered from the forest and watch us shovel them down before she would sit down to eat. It took me over a decade to realize that we were poor and she wanted to make sure we were full before she would eat our leftovers. Borscht is a noble and filling dish, and particularly inexpensive to make.

I dedicate this week's soup to my grandmother who spent her life loving and caring for her obnoxious, ungrateful grandchildren. You will never be forgotten.

Borscht

Russia's Traditional Beet Soup

2 lbs beef, small chunks
3 beets, diced
2 carrots, chopped
4 shoots celery, chopped
1 onion, diced
3 tbsp, veggie oil
18 oz diced tomato
1/2 head of cabbage, coarsely chopped
3 cloves garlic
3/4 cup dill
18-20 cups beef broth, or water
sour cream - to serve

In a large pot add onions to veggie oil and brown. Add beef, brown. Add Carrots, celery and beets and cook for 5 minutes. Add cabbage. At this point you may find that you want to separate your soup fillings into two different pots, at least I did, Add 2 cups broth to each, cover and simmer for 10 minutes. Add garlic, tomato and the remainder of the broth (as well as salt and pepper to taste) and allow to boil for about 40 minutes to one hour until your broth has turned beety red and the beef is soft and tender.

To serve, add a generous scoop full of sour cream and a tablespoon of dill.

Enjoy and share with friends and family. Happy Holidays!

Soup of the Week: Cream of Cauliflower

My parents brought me a beautiful head of cauliflower over Thanksgiving, and it has been sitting in its lonely plastic bag since the holiday. I felt sorry for the poor guy and figured a cauliflower soup would be just the answer.

Cauliflower is high in fiber and thus fairly low in net carbohydrates, but the magic of cauliflower is its innate ability to absorb flavors. Unlike so many ingredients that lose flavor the more you meddle with them, this simple plant improves with every dollop of cream or spoonful of butter.

Below is a light and flavorful, yet creamy recipe that I have been working on. I hope you enjoy it. :)

Cream of Cauliflower

1 large head of cauliflower, chopped
1 stick butter
1/2 onion, diced
1 carrot, diced
1 celery stick, diced
2 tbsp cilantro
2 quarts chicken broth
3 cups milk
1 cup sour cream

In a large pot, melt butter and add onion. Cook until lightly browned. Add carrots and celery and continue cooking for five minutes. Add cauliflower and cilantro. Lower heat, cover and cook for 15 minutes.

Add chicken broth and bring to a boil on high heat. Reduce heat and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes. At this point you can add milk and continue to simmer for another fifteen minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Move pot to a cool burner, add sour cream. Serve immediately!

Servings: 9 Carbohydrates in pot: 83 Carbohydrates in bowl: 9.2

Happiness is Only Real When Shared

My paintings, although generally allegorical and socially driven, tend to be dramatizations of events in my life. The studies for this painting were started over a year ago after visiting a friend on the West Coast. My best friend was in the outs with his boyfriend and, arriving in Los Angeles, I found out that the friend I was visiting had just broken up with his girlfriend and was having a hard time dealing. At that time, the two were my closest friends and I found myself distraught by my inability to help them, all I wanted to do was to return their loved one, but I was incapable of doing so.

During this time, I was also looking at a lot of print and manuscript work, and became very interested in time-elapsed stories shown in one image, a sort of odyssey on one page. This composition is based on the repetition of three figures (boy, girl and myself) in a counterclockwise progression from past to future, boy falling in love with girl, being happy and watching things fall apart, as I uselessly try to piece things together.

Although the image does not really show this (as it is too fuzzy and the colors aren't right), I am really happy with how the figures were handled in this piece.

With each new painting, I strive to improve my handling of anatomy and space as well as how I treat color. Starting this drawing over a year ago, I have watched my understanding of figure and color improve significantly and it is really great to see improvement in the progression of one composition. There are a few things I am still unsure about, i.e. lightness of the upper left corner, but I have decided that it is done for now.

I have decided to start applying for graduate school for next Fall, and I am really happy with the decision. I can't wait to get back into a regular studio practice with mentors and peers around me for support, and such. Let's hope for grants.....

Soup of the Week

Soup! It is getting quite cold outside, and all I can think about is soup. The incredibly diverse aromas and flavors that can be achieved by altering just a few simple ingredients and spices. It is truly inspirational.

With the first winter chill, my mind turned to creaming vegetables and boiling chickens and I have decided to indulge myself with a December full of soups, some of which I would love to share with you.

I have been feeling a deficit in Thai food, in the wake of my new low carbohydrate diet. I have missed the coconut soup, Tom Kha Gai, with some fervour. Looking into the recipes, I discovered that it wasn't a deal breaker after all, so I have formatted a really yummy recipe that is pretty low in carbs.

I hope you enjoy!

Tom Kha Gai
with Chicken

broth:
2 13.5 oz cans of coconut milk
4 cups chicken broth
3 stalks lemongrass
3 shallots
handful of fresh cilantro
2 limes juice and zest
1/4 cup soy sauce

chunkage:
1 package of chopped mushrooms
1 green pepper, chopped
1 full rotisserie chicken, deboned

Bring coconut milk, soy sauce and chicken broth to a boil. Add chopped shallots and lemon grass. Add juice and zest of lime as well as cilantro. Lower heat and simmer for 20 minutes. Salt and pepper to taste.

Drain the flavoring ingredients out, and return your broth to the pot. Add chicken, mushrooms and green pepper. Allow to boil for another 15 minutes.

Serve immediately.

Servings: 6 Carbs in pot: 48.5 Carbs in bowl: 8

Thankful

Several times a year we seem to congregate together to celebrate something or other. The origins of these gatherings have long been drowned in a sea of advertisements, themed gift baskets and cartoon characters, but somehow we managed to retain the sense of warmth and family gathering I have always admired about the holidays.

Living in New York for the past five years, I rarely see my family and look forward to birthdays, thanksgivings and Christmases to have the opportunity to cook together in our pajamas and stuff ourselves with a five course meal. We spend the afternoon cooking, dropping soup laden spoons on the broilers and slipping on renegade cubes of butter and settle around a 1.5ft high coffee table propping ourselves up on throw pillows to enjoy the spoils of our battle with the kitchen.

Long ago, I put a ban on most packaged foods in my kitchen, and since then have barely been able to afford the ingredients that my lavish lifestyle seems to constantly require of me. Perhaps I have developed an alter ego, one who requires that Comté and Morbier accompany every proper meal and scoffs at any jam with more than five ingredients. She's quite a burden, you see, and it is indeed a blessing when my parents arrive with logs of fillet mignon and balls of Mozzarella di Buffalo and bags filled with florets of cauliflower and haricot vert. That alter ego of mine can finish her pouting over our roasted chicken and ratatouille diet (where really, what sensible girl can complain of rosemary buttered chicken and fresh vegetable ratatouille?) and return to her epic planning of the perfect French fête. To explain the image above, I imagine my alter ego wearing a 1930's feather hat and lace dresses as she prepares her gateaux, I am sure you won't oppose.

This year, my whole family has been operating on a low carbohydrate diet, so I had to plan accordingly. No stuffings or mashed potatoes coated in glutenous gravy were to be tolerated, no chocolate bread puddings or gateaux drenched in raspberry jam could even be contemplated. Whatever was I to do with all of my wartime glass cake pedestals? Leave them to their fine blanket of dust? I wouldn't dream of it.

The stuffing and potatoes were easily overcome: I can't stand the concept of roast turkey anyway, a poor excuse for a giant dry chicken. I-make-a-lamb (as has come to be a catchphrase for me among my closest friends). Lamb is one of my favorite meats, it is fatty and flavorful and requires little dressing, the only sin being to overcook the poor beast. Thinking about my curly-coated friend, I planned the rest of the menu.

The lamb, I dusted with salt and pepper and instructed the dad to puncture its entire surface with inch long holes into which we subsequently stuffed halved cloves of garlic, giving the roast its "signature" porcupinesque appearance, and drenched in a nice shower of olive oil (I am proud to admit that I learned this recipe from my dad). Accompanying the lamb we had garlic and butter sautéed haricot vert, a signature Caprese salad (as we have discussed, I cannot survive a formal meal without one) as well as a rich and cheesy spinach and artichoke dip with freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano and Monterey Jack cheeses (recipe below) paired with chips made of low carb tortillas. A few other dishes were in the running, but found themselves downgraded to "day after thanksgiving" meal, since it was only mom, dad and I feasting.

Meal accomplished, I had a bit of a harder time with an idea for a dessert, but a "ladies night" dinner party of a few years back reminded me of the perfect idea: a flourless chocolate cake. Bittersweet chocolate has relatively few carbohydrates (in comparison to other desserts), and this cake could be accomplished with a sugar substitute and no additional starches. I scoured the internet, and ended up mashing together a few different recipes and substituting ingredients until I came up with what I thought would be a moist and rich cake, without the hefty starch setback (recipe below).

Masterpiece accomplished, my dad and I took to our century long fully outfitted photo shoot (for my lovely readers, of course) as my mom complained of fainting fits and starvation. A full hour later, after we inched platters around and endlessly fickled around with depth of field and aperture settings, we finally sliced the roast, picked our pillow "chairs" and settled around the coffee table. We had a lovely evening making fun of each other, watching silly movies and stuffing ourselves past morbidity only to get up the next morning and feast on a brunch of solid chocolate at Payard's FC Chocolate Bar (apparently I go there often, no wonder I'm not losing any weight this week.)


Spinach Artichoke Dip

1 package of fresh spinach
1 16oz jar of artichoke hearts
1 cup mayonnaise
1/3 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
1 cup freshly grated Monterey Jack
2 cloves garlic, minced

First thing's first, preheat oven to 350. I like to throw the entire bag of spinach, with a tiny hole in the bag, into the microwave and cook it on high for about 2 minutes. While that is cooking, drain the artichoke hearts and separate (or mush) them with your fingers. Mix together all of the ingredients save for 1/4 cup of Jack and place in an oven safe container. Sprinkle the remainder of the Monterey Jack on top and allow to bake for approximately 20 minutes, until the cheese crust is golden brown at the edges. Allow to cool for at least 15 minutes and serve with chips, or whatever else you choose.

Flourless Chocolate Cake with Whipped Cream and Blueberries

16 ounces of bittersweet chocolate
9 large eggs, separated
1/2 cup butter
2/3 cup Splenda (or sugar)
16 ounce container of heavy cream (additional 2 tablespoons of Splenda)
6 ounce carton of fresh blueberries

Preheat oven to 350. In a double boiler, melt the chocolate. Melt the butter and mix with melted chocolate. While the chocolate is melting, wisk together the sugar and egg yolks. Dip your wisk into the chocolate mixture and return it to the egg and sugar bowl, wisking quickly. This will serve to temper your eggs so they do not cook while you combine the chocolate and egg yolk mixtures. Separately, beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form and fold into the chocolate. Line a 9" round pan (preferably with collapsible sides) and pour in the batter. Bake for 18-25 minutes until the batter is set.

Meanwhile, beat the heavy cream and add 2 tablespoons of Splenda. Allow the cake to cool for 15 minutes before removing from the pan and another 15-30 minutes before serving.

Hope you guys enjoy the recipes. Thank you all for keeping up with my sporadic posts, I am thankful for every beautiful moment of my life!

Just a Walk in the Park

I woke up to an incredibly beautiful morning in a strange fog. As the evenings grow steadily darker, I see very little of the city. I was determined to spend today outside, and luckily my friend Tamar obliged to be my date for an afternoon of strolling through the city.

After spending some time at a lovely open air market full of vintage jewelry and curious objects, we decided to take a stroll across the park towards one of my favorite destinations. Usually, I follow the uneventful route across 81st street, but seeing the lovely turning of the leaves, Tamar and I decided to cross through the winding routes inside of the park.

I have visited the park countless times, and as if walking in a maze, I never seem to pass the same spot twice. I am virtually helpless in determining which direction I am walking in, but I am always greeted by a new vision, be it a romantically secluded gazebo, a shimmering lake or a brilliantly sculpted fountain.

Walking through the gently sloping hills I was hypnotized by the rustle of golden red leaves moving in wakes around my feet. Closing my eyes I could sense the movement of the leaves that remained precariously perched on their branches. It was a perfect day! A few winding pathways later, we found ourselves at the edge of a huge lake flanked by massive rock formations. Hoards of couples and children had scrambled up the sides of the miniature mountains and lounged there soaking up the last rays of this year's sunshine, watching others float by in row boats on the glimmering surface of the lake. I too climbed the mountain and I contemplated sitting in one of those boats, perhaps with a parasol or an epic sun hat wearing my most 19th century themed dress as someone I care about rowed us across the stillness of the lake. A lovely thought, perhaps I should make an adventure of it sometime.

Awaking from my fantasy, I descended, and we continued our walk across the park. The colors of the shedding trees were indeed magnificent, even more so through Tamar's somewhat rose tinted glasses. A cerulean blue sky was contrasted by gradations of orange, yellow and red. The image feels ingrained in my memory, I almost see it as I close my eyes.

Finally traversing the park, my lovely date and I headed to one of my favorite pastry places in the city. Francois Payard is a renowned, and amazing, French chef and is the owner of FC Chocolate Bar on Madison between 63rd and 64th. Payard's chocolate confections have been among my favorite treats since my friend Nancy Grimes took me there on one of our "Museum and Dessert" afternoons. Since that time, every few months, I make my way back with a new friend to experience the amazingly subtle and refreshing flavor combinations Payard has created.

Finding the shop is an experience of its own. To reach the cafe, one must go through a lavishly tacky jewelry shop and take a leather padded elevator (complete with a gilded mirror, vanity desk and pouff chair) to the fourth floor. Exiting the elevator, you are faced with a lovely light filled chamber with modern crystal chandeliers and gleaming white tables, a somewhat precious, almost jewelry shop like display shows the compact, but delightful menu options.

Among the options are an assortment of macarons (known to be one of my obsessions), several chocolate pastries including the Louvre (which is in fact incredibly reminiscent of the chocolate pyramid I treat myself to every time I visit the Louvre) and a selection of verrines (including my favorite, le verrine du japonais which stands out for its yuzu citrus mousse).

Sooner or later, I always find myself in Union Square, no matter where I began my daily journey. I trace my own footsteps each week wandering through the booths at the farmers market and visiting and revisiting my favorite shops along the way. I am always on the lookout for moderately priced bees wax tapers and vintage-esque brass candlesticks to house them. I can't tell why every candle has to be tinted and scented, I am most fond of of the delicate natural scent of burning cotton wick against bees wax, the golden glow of the wax illuminated by the flame is overpowering.

ABC carpet on Broadway and 19th has always enchanted me with an incredible collection of objects. I can't even fathom to afford a spoon, no less a dining set from there, but every other week, as if by clockwork, I can be seen circling through the eclectic displays picking out the delicately handmade objects that would fill out my dream life.

It is a treat to live in a city where one can see so many beautiful things in one afternoon.

Cire Trudon: The oldest candle maker opens a shop in NYC

It has been very well established that I have an obsession with history and culture before the twentieth century. The romance of bustled dresses and gilded chandeliers has always had an overwhelming hold on me.

Candles have had an incredible influence over the history of humanity. From lighting the courts of kings and emperors and overseeing the prayers of countless to perching on the paper hat of one of the greatest sculptors of the western world (Michelangelo would often mount a candle on his head to continue working through the night,) candles have enabled innumerable historic events and progressions.

In 1643, a salesman named Claude Trudon arrived in Paris. Thanks to a fruitful marriage, Trudon became the owner of a shop on Saint-Honoré. In addition to groceries, the shop offered a variety of waxes and candles for domestic and clerical use. In the dawn of Louis XIV's reign, Trudon opened his first family based manufacture of candles. Cire Trudon's business exploded through Louis XIV's dynasty and his candles were a staple in Napoleon's studies, embossed the halls of Versailles and the bed chambers of Marie Antoinette and overseen the prayers of an entire nation for countless generations.

Expanding and improving with every decade, Cire Trudon candles sport a vegetal mix wax, which combined with the best of imported, home woven cotton wicks provide an incredibly clean and smooth vehicle for a collection of beautifully imaginative, high end perfumes. The candles are famed for burning clear and never dripping.

The 54 Bond Street shop is the first Cire Trudon location outside of Paris, an incredible resource for Trudon's many American connoisseurs. After spending an entire day dutifully picking out the candle of my dreams online, my dear friend Tamar and myself arrived at the brand new Bond street shop, thrilled to be in a room with so much history. I found myself in tears being told in a cool Parisian accent that the store I was looking forward to visiting all day was closed. I am sure I looked quite a mess, since Robert, cigarette and wine glass in hand, offered to give us a tour of the small shop and allowed me to buy my candle.

Smelling each flavor, hidden under a shimmering bell jar, I was surprised at the delicacy and uniqueness of each of the signature flavors. A light citrus cent with a woody undertone, named Odalisque, won me over.

"Enclosed in citrus and wood bark, the orange blossom weaves a painter's dream from which escapes the pale volute of smoke from a narghile. As an orientalist painting, furiously romantic, the vigorous scent of hte cade, and solar splinter of citrus fruits, come out as a thin blade in the silky shadow of vanilla."

Every night I fall asleep to the peaceful scent of citrus flower and the undeniable hint of a rich and flourishing history.

(Credits to HypeBeast for many images Cire Trudon for historic information.)