There is Only One Language that Matters

I hate that I cannot speak Hebrew. Hate it. Not that I can't get along here without it, I can, it's easy to do. Many Israelis speak English, and many speak it very well. And while I hate not knowing what's going on around me, or which meat in the cold cuts section is chicken or what those arsim are saying about me as they point at me at the bar, what really gets me is how it makes me look. I apologize every time I ask someone if they speak English. In the same way I have never, ever wanted to look or act like a tourist, no matter where I go, not being able to speak Hebrew lumps me in with a group that I am uncomfortable being associated with. I don't want to seem like an entitled American asshole who believes everyone should cater to them. I hate asking for an English menu when I'm out...why should you have an American menu for me? It's your country, you don't owe me English, I should suffer if I am not learning your language. I don't want entire groups of Israelis to speak in English (as they will) just for my sake, I'm the idiot, not all you bilingual people. I am trying and learning, but it is a slow process and one that will likely drive me crazy for quite some time to come.

But Maddie, why call your blog post "There is Only One Language that Matters?" Well, my observant and somewhat impatient reader, I will tell you...I just had to get that off my chest. The only language that matters is the language of passion. And I do not mean love, I mean passion. I mean a burning desire for something, for some goal, something that you cannot stop caring about, try though you may (though you wont). There is an understanding that exists betw
een people who have the same passions, and this is where we truly connect as people.

The Man from this past year, the best I've seen. Taken from google
from an article that probably stole it. 

Burners. Burners are great. They are fucking crazy. All year long they dream of a magical place they may or may not have ever been to, and in their yearning create many spaces and opportunities that try to evoke that ethereal feeling that Burning Man provides. They have different reasons for wanting to be there, but there are all united by one idea, that they actually WANT to be there...out in the dust, in the sun and in the wind, surrounded by people or lonely in the deeps, living in tents or RV's or a new shade structure every day. They scrimp and save, they smell and ache, they inflict countless dangers upon themselves from drugs to fire to dust storms to outrageous safety issues...but they all want it. And no matter where they are from, they are all connected.

This past weekend I was lucky enough to attend a burner Purim party. I knew I would love the party because....well....my people would be there. I knew a few people, not many, but I wasn't worried. After all, we're all part of the same tribe. Sure enough I was soon wrapped in conversations of fire and art and inappropriate sexual innuendo. There's a flirting and closeness that exists within this world that is hard to find elsewhere. It was so nice to know I could relax and be myself without some Israeli boy thinking that obviously I must want to fuck him because I am talking crudely. Everyone was there - the impossibly beautiful girl who never stops dancing, the couple that never leaves each other's side, the photographers who smile silently and create excitement just by giving the exhibitionists what they want, the guy puking quietly in the trashcan and thinking no one saw (and returning to drinking), the overworked and finally able to relax (a little) party organizers, the people fixing and then dancing on the stripper pole, the smokers who never leave the outside deck, the person who is too obsessed with their prop, the people who took too much and pass out too quickly, the inexplicable increase in volume of pounding dubstep at 5 am when there is no one left dancing in the room - only sleepers...it was all so familiar. It was all so right. It was such a thrill to have my suspicions confirmed - of course these are the people that will grow to be my friends, we are cut from the same cloth.

Backstage in high school for A Chorus Line,
which would end up being a very important
production for me. That'e me on the far left. 

Before I found burners I still had a tribe, I was always and will always be a thespian. Yesterday I was finally working at a theatre painting costumes (that's right, painting...the designer I work for is so damn cool) while the show was in dress rehearsal. Again I had that wonderful feeling of being at home. Sure, it was a bit nerve-wracking - anyone who has ever been in theatre can tell you what a tight, close-knit group the production becomes by the time actors are in dressing rooms and to be new to the cast AND not be able to speak the language is incredibly intimidating. I was working outside, so I met many of the actors, because of course almost all of them smoke. Again I saw the types I know so well parade in front of me. The actor who sings every other sentence, making sure she drowns out others, the actor who is a prima donna and demands his way, the actor that flirts with EVERYONE, the older actors who sigh and shake their head, the one who is always "on," the stage manager with a constant look of worry on her face, the stage hands who chain smoke and laugh at any sign of stress, the actors who will not eat the provided sandwiches, but their own super healthy low-cal salads, the people who "shh" from the wings and of course my boss, the talented perfectionist who is going to have his way, dammit. It felt so good to be there, even if I couldn't understand most of what was being said. The words are less important, I know these people, and they know me.

Everyone deserves to find their people. If this all sounds foreign to you I urge you to get out there and find your tribe. You are lucky enough to have the internet. Use it. For me, my love of beauty and art and the worship of creativity alongside a love of bawdy and inappropriate humor has led me to the burners. For you, it may be something different. Maybe you love eating rare cheeses, or playing badminton, or 18th century poetry. Maybe it's animal rescue, or exquisite vegan food or belly dancing. Maybe you don't like people that much, that's ok...there are other people like you and everyone needs someone some time. You still have a passion, and your other lone wolves do to. Find them. Maybe you don't love anything at all, chances are you are still passionate, just about something else, like hate. The Tea Party is a great example of people finding each other, they are all united in their passion for hating Obama. You think the KKK demands they get to meet just because they're defending the First Amendment? These are their buddies, their brothers! They want to hang out with like-minded bigots. Their people might suck (in my opinion) but they found each other for a reason. Find your tribe. It's the greatest feeling to know you are not the only one.

I consider myself a burner and an thespian far before I consider myself an American, a Jew, or even a woman. The latter are simply what I was born with, the former I chose and made for myself and that is what truly matters. I know I will always be seen as a woman before anything else and as an American after that, but I try to surround myself with people who will see me as something different, as someone like themselves. I understand these languages, those of the theatre and of burners. I don't need Hebrew to communicate (she says, fully taking advantage of the fact that they all speak English) I just need to be of the same ilk. And I am. We understand each other on a basic level, because we understand at least a little of what drives each other, and not only do we understand, we respect. We respect that the other works so hard to achieve something that very few realize the importance of.

Find your tribe. Life is so much better when you are invigorated by those who understand you. And if you've found your tribe, take care of them. Love them, visit them, connect with them. They are for you as you are for them, and don't ever forget how special that is.

Why I Moved to Israel: Part III or The Religiosity of Costume

I first heard the word "religiosity" in an essay titled "The Religiosity of Theatre," I can't for the life of me find it, or recall who it was by (a famous playwright I believe) but it hit me hard when I read it. It explains what so many of us creative types feel and why so many of us cannot stop doing what we love and choose to suffer with menial pay and terrifyingly unstable careers. Most people in theatre (I'm going to continue to use theatre as my example, but I am sure this extends to most artists, be they musicians, poets, painters etc.) know the adage "If you can do anything else - do it," because the business is so hard on every aspect of your life and very, very few actually succeed. Yet year after year schools churn out theatre majors who have all decided making their art is the only thing they can do. Why? Religiosity. There is a mystical faith and belief in the theatre, an ethereal presence of something bigger than any of the people involved. We dedicate endless hours, invest our emotions and sacrifice all other aspects of our life just to feel that magic moment when the house lights go down on opening night. A creative person is baring everything she has when she works on her project. It is different than filling out forms or dealing with customers or analyzing the stock market. Every part of her is used, and what she puts out is unique and from deep within...so when it fails, she fails - it's not that she did something wrong, it is that she is wrong. But when she succeeds, no one else can know her joy. She has touched something perfect that only she can touch. It is magic, it is spiritual, it is God. The only house of prayer that has ever felt right to me is the theatre. It doesn't have to be fancy, it doesn't need to have a stage, all it needs is a performer and someone to perform for - it is in the space between those two that the ethereal is felt and the magic is created.

If this picture doesn't perfectly represent me,
I don't know what does. 

So...why costumes then? Why not acting or directing or sound design? Truth be told, I love all of these elements, and would probably be happy doing any of them (I've grown a distaste for acting, but I'm sure if I had a great director I would be more than happy to stand in the spotlight again) but nothing delights me as much costuming. Any actor will tell you what a difference it makes when you first put on your character's shoes. It changes you, it makes you one step closer to truly being someone else. But aside from the spiritual aspect of costuming...let's face it...I LOVE LOVE LOVE a spectacle! The bigger, the brighter, the shinier, the bolder, the better! Give me giant crinolines and and sequined bras, give me black lace bodysuits and and neon orange hair, give me hoop skirts and corsets and thigh-hi's and platforms...as an incredibly talented costumed friend of mine says "More is more."

My love of costumes didn't start with Burning Man, or theatre, it started when I was born. My parents have told me stories about my insistence on wearing costumes and fun dresses all the time. I never cared much for barbies, but I did have a massive dress-up trunk...why dress a doll when I could be the fabulous one myself? To this day I will take any excuse or occasion to either wear a costume or get gussied up to the nines. I am often over dressed. Take this picture above. My mom tells me that my grandma got me a new doll bed...so I made this. To quote her "I don't know what you were doing, and I have no idea why you have that thing on your head." Well, I know. I was making a dramatic ensemble for a momentous occasion! Of course I made a gala dress for such a great day. Note the audacious, revealing lines and the flair for the dramatic, not much has changed.

My Tube costume. My sister is wearing
my tutu, which those who have been to
the burn with me will recognize. 

I have always liked being original, and costumes have always been a great way to do that. The first original costume I recall making was for Halloween when I was quite young (probably around the time of this awesome gala dress). I didn't want to be something someone else would be, so I went as a Mother. I wore a long skirt and had a baby doll and put my hair in a wrap. There was a costume contest for the kids at my dad's work and I remember winning some kind of award. I couldn't understand why the adults all thought it was so hilarious and so cute...to me it made perfect sense to dress up as a mother for a costume, and I pulled it off well. I continued on this trend and always insisted on making new and original costumes. Halloween was always the most exciting day of the year, especially when I could go to school and show off how cool I thought I was. When living in London while 5 girls all came in as Princess Jasmine (with that ridiculous flesh colored spandex on the belly) I came as "the Tube," London's subway system. For real. I put a station on my head and wore all grey. What a strange child, indeed. After that, it wasn't fairies or witches or any old princess for me, it was Boudicca, the fierce redheaded warrior queen who led the Britons to fight (and lose) against the Romans. Why be anything less than a queen? Why dress up to be someone lame like Tinkerbell (seriously, go back and watch Peter Pan if you haven't seen it lately. What. A. Bitch.) when I could be someone with incredible strength and power?

Let's fast forward to college. Anyone who knew me then will recall me standing at the front door of our house and telling people they cant come in unless they had a costume. I took every excuse to make a party a theme party...just so I could make a costume. My favorite of these was the Stereotypical Assholes party, where everyone came as a stereotype. I thought it was a very clever theme. I went as a Jew and wore blue and white, stitched a magen david on my stomach, had gold horns and a tail and of course, bags of Jew gold around my neck and waist (this was just after the famous South Park episode). That was probably the first instance of my costumes being incredibly offensive and clever, which definitely became a trend in my costuming. Meanwhile, I was a theatre major focusing on directing. I did costume design for some of my plays but didn't think to actually go after costume design. I have never had much of a love for fashion (unless we're talking outrageous designers like Alexander McQueen and Jean-Paul Gaultier) or what's "in," so I didn't think I had the predilections needed to be a

One of my favorite costumes from Betty's
Summer Vacation, a show I directed at UCSD

costume designer. I also have never dressed that fashionably, and thought that was a prerequisite to be a costume designer. Eventually I realized a costume designer doesn't need to be focused on what is going on on the runways (aware, yes, but not obsessive), but rather understand the world and time of the play and make exceptional creative choices from that. By the end of my time in college I had taken all the costume design classes I could and assisted on a show...lamenting that I hadn't focused more time into something I so clearly love.

Then came Burning Man. Never in my life had I seen such a bevvy of exceptional costuming. People dressed as everything you can imagine and also what you have never even dreamed of. And even more than actual costumes (i.e. Pirate, Fox, Robot) was this new concept to me of "every day" wear that was simply more fabulous than real clothing. Instead of a skirt - a tutu and thigh-his, instead of heels - 7 inch platform boots, instead of a shirt - pasties that have googly eyes on them. At the burn a costume doesn't have to be someone or something else at all, it's still you, it's just you with complete freedom to wear any color or fabric or household item or sex toy you want. I was deeply inspired by what I saw there, and when I moved to NYC I immediately got involved with Kostume Kult, and there my life as a costume designer truly began.

Kostume Kult is an amazing theme camp at Burning Man that provides a very unique service. We bring thousands of donated costumes to the Playa and harass other burners (especially those who look boring) to wait in line, step into our dome and try on whatever they want. KK'ers who work in the dome help people to get out of their shell and try something new. Whatever they put on their body they can take, and in order to exit they must walk down a long catwalk and model their new look to all the people standing and dancing there. Why is this such a great gift? Take a man in cargo shorts who has never worn anything fun...convince him to wear a tight and sexy nurse costume and his whole day will be different. All of the sudden he has license to act however he wants, to try things he never would've tried. He has removed judgement from himself and given himself freedom. It is an incredible gift and I became a Kostume Kult diehard right away, because I, like them, have great faith and dedication to the wonder that is costuming.

Tutu Tuesday at Kostume Kult my first year with them. Everyone
showing off their new duds on the runway. Photo by David Katz

It is because of KK that I am a costume designer. Their costumes were so good (in addition to being at the burn, KK also throws costume parties on a nearly monthly basis) that I decided I needed to take a sewing class and step my game up. The events of KK and the NYC burner world also gave me the freedom explore new and hilarious costume choices such as The 69ing Swan, The Sexy Lorax and my all time favorite The Hannukah Bush. From there I interned for a latex designer and learned more skills and then finally landed (thanks to the help of a brilliant KK'er) a job as an assistant designer at the largest commercial costume company in the world. There I learned more and more every day thanks to a wonderful boss who treated me like her apprentice. I learned the basics of pattern making and drawing, and well as many, many skills in sewing and crafting. Unfortunately the job moved locations and I was let go after only a year.

I made the actual dragon costume first, and then made a sketch for my job.
The job ended before I could make a sample, but I was still proud of one of my first drawings.

So what does this have to do with Israel? I already mentioned going to Independence Hall and being greatly moved by a speaker during birthright. Right after that speech we were taken to a building where we were given a pitch about returning to Israel for a 5 month internship. The presentation itself was rather ridiculous, but I asked if they had anything for a costume designer. They did. So I'm here. I am in a different internship than the one I had planned for, but this one is even better. I am working side by side with two incredibly talented people who I'm sure will teach me a great deal. I have only had 5 days of work, but have already learned new skills. I can't possibly express how wonderful it is to be sewing and gluing and ironing and cutting and pinning again. The hardest part about traveling as long as I did (since losing my job) was that I was away from all my materials. No sewing machine, no spandex, no feathers, no jewels. I missed making. It feels exquisite to be back at it again. And to add icing to the cake...

Next weekend is Purim!!! It's like Halloween except only Jews celebrate it. Traditionally people dress as the characters in the Book of Esther, children boo and use noisemakers when they hear Hamen's name and the adults get waaaasted. Seriously. If you live in NYC go to one of the Hasidic neighborhoods next weekend...you will see what I mean. Hammered. As a child I dressed up as Esther often, though my true claim to fame was playing Hamen in the silly musical we did in temple where I sang "You've got to pray to the I-D-O-L" to the tune of "YMCA." But Purim in Israel has become something quite different. Like Halloween, all of the meaning and religion has been pretty much taken out of it in order to make room for slutty costumes. I'm very excited.

So there it is. This is the end to my three part series about why I moved to Israel. From now on I will blog about whatever comes to mind as I settle into this country.

If you'd like to see the bulk of my costumes, including the ones I've mentioned you can find them here.

For now I'll just leave you with another adorable Baby Maddie picture, all dressed up for St. Patrick's Day.

Why I moved to Israel: Part II or "Born to Wander"

I have always been a nomad. The longest I have ever lived in one place was six years, and that was two years too many. I grew up moving, as did my parents. I have no hometown and I don't feel allegiance to any particular place, (though SF, NYC and London are very close to my heart) this includes America as a whole. I have never believed that Americans do it better than all other 1st world, liberal countries. The older I get, the more the US irks me. I find myself opposing more and more of the policies of the country of my birth. From the war on drugs to healthcare to welfare needs to maternity leave...I disagree with how America wants to treat its people and in the past few years it has bothered me more and more.

A map of the places my family lived up until 1998. This hangs in my parent's house. 

I lost everything in the last year or so. I ended a long term relationship with the man I thought I was going to marry, I was laid-off at my awesome job because of situations beyond my control and my cheap and perfect NYC apartment was ripped from my hands with no warning while I was traveling. On top of that there was a very tragic and young death in my family, leaving me to help take care of a rambunctious 12 year old for about a month before leaving for Birthright. Things were quite hard for me, and I am very lucky that I had (have) a support network of incredible friends who made me smile and took me in and smothered me in love. Without them, as well as a new and amazing romantic relationship, I would've been in the deep depths of depression...but even with them, something was not right.

The Negev desert. Massive and beautiful
Photo by Justin Tyler Russikoff

I found peace in the desert. I have not seen many deserts in my life, but I have loved every one I've been to. As soon as our bus started heading into the Negev desert I couldn't sleep, I was captivated by the beauty and wide expanse of it all. I'm not sure exactly what it is about the desert that makes me feel so calm...perhaps it is because it is the polar opposite to a city, and I am nothing if not a city girl. Perhaps it is because the desert tends to draw unusual people to it - I mean, who actually chooses to be where there is no water, little shade and extreme temperatures, not to mention a need for radical self-reliance, if you aren't prepared for the desert, you will die...and that's that. Or maybe it's the same reason I enjoy snorkeling and seeing under the sea so much, its a chance to see what human beings cannot conquer. Bedouins and similar tribes are the only people who have made the desert their home (without extensive man made infrastructures which neutralize the difficulties that make a desert the desert) and they only survive it by being nomadic and deeply respecting that cruel, sandy mistress. You cannot conquer the desert.

Black Rock Desert or The Playa. Tell me, what does the fox say at sunrise sans champagne?
Photo by David Katz

Upon arriving, amidst complaints of Americans that it's too hot and "oh my god, we have to sleep outside in a tent?!"I felt great. I felt at home. Some of you know of another desert that many people call home (yes, I know it's technically not a real desert but let's not bicker about semantics), a desert where we set up a community full of lights and fire and art and people. And yes, Burning Man is a city, but every year I spend the bulk of my time out in the deeps, where there is little to no light except for the stars, and no sound but the wind howling and the dust getting ready for a white out. I love the sound of the desert, it is so big and powerful.

At night our birthright guide, a fellow desert lover, took us all out to lie under the stars and listen to stories about the constellations and the Jewish people. It hit me that my love of the desert may have something to do with the lore of my people, of the wandering of the desert and the incessant need to hold onto this tiny strip of land that is 60% desert. I walked away from the group and found a high spot to stand on and relax and look around. I made my decision to move to Israel at that moment. I felt at peace, while also coursing with energy and potential for the future. As hostile as the desert is, everyone is welcome there, any weirdo or freak can go and be alone, or even better they can go and draw other like minded freaks there.

Look at the Jews wander the desert!
Photo by Justin Tyler Russikoff

Just this week my new group of Americans in Israel (who will always be referred to as Taglit by Israeli's even though we're not) went to the Negev for three days. While it wasn't what I wanted - sleeping under the stars, some solitude, better hikes - it was still wonderful and very informative as far as what challenges the Negev provides. I am not going to give a history lesson on Ben Gurion because I hardly know anything, but I absolutely love that Israel's first Prime Minister was the biggest desert cheerleader. He encouraged Israelis to make the desert theirs, he even joined a kibbutz in the Negev, away from the cities and infrastructure and politics, to this day it is where his body lies (while most other Prime Ministers are buried in Jerusalem's national cemetery). I find his love of the desert, as well as all the people who have struggled to make the land work for them inspiring.

I have already looked into artists communes in the desert. One of the Americans scoffed when I asked the guide if he knew of any and I was so pleased that he responded with exactly what I wanted to hear "Yes, there are many strange people in the Negev." I will be wandering the desert, and there will be more to come from my favorite hostile environment. I will not be making it to Black Rock this year, but I will be involved with putting on Midburn, Israel's 4 day regional festival in the desert. I can't wait. I am eager to let the desert of my people invigorate and center me, just the way the desert of my freaky people, my selected family, always has. Though I will be busy and loving the hustle and bustle of Tel Aviv, my eyes and ear will always be open...ready for the next desert adventure.






Up Next: Why I Moved to Israel: Part III or OHMYGOD I LOVE COSTUMES!!!!