book list 2012

One day left of 2012! Here is a roundup of some of the books I've read and liked this year. Last year's list (see book list 2011) I prefaced with the sighing, "Oh, and so many books I didn't get to.." which is neither here nor there, so I need not lament again. Nor must I add, "Of course, my reading material included periodicals, blogs, text messages, etc.."
I've attempted descriptions of each, but look them up online for better summaries, if interested.

Conversations With Artists (Selden Rodman)- Circa 1950s, 35 American painters, sculptors & architects discuss their work

Love Begins In Winter (Simon van Booy)- Five impressionistic stories about isolated, sensitive people finding connection

Ed Ruscha, Photographer (Margit Rowell)- overview of Ruscha's '50s-'70s photography and how it ties into his work as a painter

Truck: A Love Story (Michael Perry)- Here's a post I wrote after reading this super book: garden-variety nostalgia

How To Sharpen Pencils (David Rees)- "A practical and theoretical treatise on the artisanal craft of pencil sharpening for writers, artists, contractors, flange turners, anglesmiths & civil servants"

Lee Krasner, A Biography (Gail Levin)-A long-overdue, thorough portrait of this formidable Abstract Expressionist- before, during and after being with Pollock; fascinating in her own right

Look Me In The Eye: My Life With Asperger's (John Elder Robison)- A dark and funny and significant memoir of a different sort of life, thoughtful and straightforward

Imagine: How Creativity Works (Jonah Lehrer)- Accessible neuroscience and demystifying creativity- Here's a post I wrote after reading this book: firing up the neurons

By Nightfall (a novel) (Michael Cunningham)- see Amazon link

The Marriage Plot (a novel) (Jeffrey Eugenides)- see Amazon link

A Moveable Feast (Hemingway)- So glad I finally read this memoir of his early Paris days

The Snows of Kilimanjaro (short story- I'm reading a book of them) (Hemingway)

The Paris Wife (a novel) (Paula McLain)- From the vividly imagined perspective of Hemingway's first wife, Hadley, in the '20s

NW (a novel) (Zadie Smith)- see Amazon link

The Ecstasy of Influence (Jonathan Lethem)- A hefty collection of writings and ideas, look this one up on Amazon too

Farm City: The Education of an Urban Farmer (Novella Carpenter)- The author starts a garden & 'urban farm' in a vacant lot in Oakland

The Consolations of Philosophy (Alain de Botton)- presenting the wisdom of great thinkers as a solace and advice for life, thoughtful and witty

Travels With Charley: In Search of America (Steinbeck)- the terrific account of the writer's road trip across America in 1960; see this post

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (a novel) (Michael Chabon)- can't believe I just got to this book now, but I'm SO glad- I LOVE it (nearly finished)

Air Guitar: Essays on Art and Democracy (Dave Hickey)-how the arts function in the drift of everyday life & our cultural landscape; I'm currently reading and digging it

Also on my shelf for Jan-Feb:
Love (Stendhal)
Sutton (J.R. Moehringer)
Stand Still Like The Hummingbird (Henry Miller)- a revisiting
A Place Of My Own: The Architecture of Daydreams (Michael Pollan)
Dandelion Wine (Ray Bradbury)
Telegraph Avenue (Michael Chabon)

Oh how I love reading. 3"x3" collage/acrylic on canvas.

sugar cane

I buy candy canes mostly because I like looking at them. I crushed a few over cookies, dunked one in cocoa,  and put one in my bag which I promptly forgot about, but there were plenty left. 

6"x10" oil on masonite. 

go by in your car

I was gratified to see, in the NY Times Westchester section, the listing for my show at the Drive-By Gallery (part of Lift Trucks Project) in Croton Falls. It's run the past two Sundays, and if I'd been more persistent in the past 3 months, I might have gotten them to publish a photo of a painting. But it's no secret that my attempts in self-promotion can use some polishing. The show, as I have noted, runs through Dec 31. It's on 3 Cross St (also Rte 22), right by the Metro-North train station and a short drive from 684.

As it's Christmas Eve, here is the Beacon bicycle tree. 

 Warm wishes for a peaceful and happy holiday.

cookie friends

The sort of story I compose shortly before midnight when I have decided to make maple gingerbread people and decorate them with melted chocolate because I wanted to see some smiling faces.

hi how's it going? we are three friends.

we have fun together.

hey.. where did my friends go?

wait where did our friend go?

there you are! 

a minor scuffle

A new small piece, only 4"x4", collage/acrylic on canvas. I like integrating paint and the photograph, to find a continuity in the textures without laboring too much. Of course this is easier in tiny works where a few scuffles of a cheap brush will produce the hoped-for effect of not quite being able to tell where the collaged element meets the paint.

pick me up

Though my blog isn't intended to be any kind of discussion of news, politics, heartbreaking or horrifying or frustrating events, or any such things, even when that means I might not post because some terrible thing that happened elsewhere (not far from here, this time) but pervades the national consciousness with its profound sadness and horror makes me feel sad and disinclined to post for a few days. That was an appallingly-constructed sentence but I can't fix it because I'm too tired right now. 

My friend gave me this blue metal toy truck, which was nice. It is giving a ride to my little red car picture.

Below is a photo of my studio tonight, a partial view, in all its mess. It is like a sitcom set, with all the activity on one side, and just the door and things on the wall on the facing side. I hadn't spent a whole day there in a while, and it cheered me up. So did going out to parties and drinking over the weekend, but today was admittedly more productive. (Unless stacking wood while hungover is productive.)

half lit

I was pleased with myself for procuring my candles early, instead of the last-minute scramble. At Candlestock (yes, in Woodstock), no less. But then I could not find my menorah anywhere. After batting around a few ideas-- drilling holes in a piece of wood? Nine oranges?-- I inverted an egg carton, covered it with foil, and pierced holes with the wooden end of a paintbrush. The first night, I omitted the foil, and turned around a moment late to see- big surprise!- the carton aflame. So while this might look like a lazy kid's craft project, it has been thoughtfully constructed. However I am not taking my eyes away this time. I will ponder what it means to be resourceful, to use what is at hand, to appreciate what we find and the possibilities within humble objects. Plus, I could have eleven nights of Hanukkah this year.

2013 calendar is here

Here are images of my calendar, 8.5"x11" spiral-bound, 12 months= 12 lovely pictures and 365 days included, some holidays noted. As I have already mentioned, I am selling them directly (please email erica@ericahauser.com to order), for $16 each. If applicable, shipping & handling $4 or 5 extra, or can arrange for local (Beacon) pickup or possible delivery. They are also for sale in Beacon at 133 Main St AND at the online shop of Clay Wood and Cotton (click link to order).

January-June

July-December

the first 31 days

the year at-a-glance

the night away

What could possibly be a suitable follow-up to the last riveting post? I finished my knitted scowl and threw some more paint on the bicycle tree (getting more in my hair). Library's doing renovation, so they nixed installing my book piece there- I'll have to book some other window. I went to the opening at the Arkell Museum in Canajoharie tonight, where my painting was in a group show. As suspected, it was a mild event, but I enjoyed walking through the museum with my mother and seeing some Winslow Homer paintings, then a stumble around the adjacent library clutching a cup of wine and a fistful of cookies. Sure enough, while walking down the street huddled under an umbrella we heard horses clip-clopping behind us, jingling their harnesses and pulling a wagon full of people wincing in the drizzle. "We can't call it a night; it's only 6:30," I declared, before gaily breaking into a chorus of "Winter Wonderland". So on the way back we stopped in Sharon Springs at the grand American Hotel and settled into a couple of cozy chairs before the fireplace, amid twinkling lights, for drinks and a bite. "Now we can call it a night," I proclaimed with a yawn, though it was only 8:30. I was looking forward to going to sleep again, as if sleep is a place I step out of and return to- and as the nights grow as long as they'll be all year, it practically is.

put together

For the "day in the life" file. Today also happens to be the birthday of my older brother, one of my favorite people in the world.
I awoke and made almond-flour pancakes with last summer's frozen blueberries. I wrapped some calendars and mailed them (they arrived last week and I've begun to sell them, either directly- sold four just walking down Main St yesterday- or from Clay Wood and Cotton- at the shop, and soon to be for sale online). I went online and ordered insulated overalls for working outside in cold weather, and fancy black party shoes. Needless to say, not to be worn together. I did not have either of these items and they suddenly seemed essential.
I inquired at the library whether they'd let me re-install my big book in their window for the holidays, since it has Christmas lights inside (creating the infinity effect) and I thought it would look nice. Waiting to hear back. I started working on my telephone booth, cleaning it up and trying to figure out the lighting situation. With more indispensable help from another friend (I would be nothing without my friends) I began to understand how it is put together "by how it comes apart". I naturally want to place it somewhere on view as soon as possible, for fun, but I do not know where.
I began to help spray-paint the bicycle tree that my friend is constructing for a Beacon holiday display, to be installed in town. I think words will not aptly describe this structure made of bolted-together bike parts- rims, tires, wheels and frames- so I will photograph it this weekend when it is lit, with strands of solar-powered lights and topped with a small twinkling disco ball. The wind blew back the paint and coated my face and hair with a light silver mist.
I made a small work (6"x8") on paper- acrylic and collage (which was both spurred by and  the reference for an earlier piece, Red Record Player (if that makes sense), for a party/fundraiser auction this weekend for Re>Think Local. And I almost finished knitting my Ambitious Cowl Project, which taught me a few new techniques. There have been no photos lately because I left my camera upstate, but we are not missing much; truly, most of the photos would be of stacks of wood, since that's largely what I've been doing recently.

arkell museum show

This Friday, December 7 from 5-7 pm is the opening for the 2012 juried art show at the Arkell Museum in Canajoharie, NY. The basic theme was 'artists with ties to New York State', so it could have been any number of my paintings, but I entered this one:

 Riviera Marquee (2010), acrylic, based on an old theater facade in Geneseo, NY.

Canajoharie is also the home of another rare dummy light, if that provides further enticement. The Arkell is a beautifully designed space, adjacent to the library, with a mix of permanent and changing exhibits including American painting and works from the Beech-Nut archives. According to their website, that evening is also the town's holiday celebration, including horse-drawn carriage rides. Since it is always very quiet when I drive through, I'd like to attend the reception if I can (though it is a couple hours north of me) and check out this festive scene. Lately, my steady wood-stacking work does not permit many day trips. Nor studio time, for that matter, but I am always looking and thinking; as my blog's profile says, I do various things, some times of year more or less of one than another.

steinbeck's travels with charley

You would think that I'd have long ago read John Steinbeck's Travels With Charley: In Search of America, but I had not, which oversight I swiftly corrected this week. What a great book! Like many books I mention-which is why I don't often discuss the books I read, though I am always reading- there are a boatload of blog posts about it already, but sometimes I just want to say a quick word. Next month I'll post my (second-annual) list of what I've read this year, and likely go on a while about all the ones I didn't get to.
Anyway, I loved Steinbeck's account of his road trip across America in 1960, accompanied by his poodle (that would be Charley) in a green GMC truck outfitted with a camper top. Apparently he took the trip to reinvigorate his writing, to get back in touch with the country he'd spent years writing about, planning to talk to people along the way. I Googled a picture of his camper (named Rocinante, after Quixote's horse) and in the process turned up all sorts of articles on how the story was not as non-fiction as it was purported to be, plenty of inaccuracies, but I didn't care, it was absorbing and well-evoked and captured my imagination. Driving across America in 1960. That's the year some of my old road maps are from, so I've already previously gone on at length about the slightly inexplicable inspiration I get from the subject. I dip into the travel-writing genre periodically, and this is now one of my favorites. Fifty years later and there is still so much truth in his (occasionally wry and) prescient observations, almost startlingly so... a portrayal of America to get you thinking about what has and hasn't changed since then. So there's a humor and 'romance' of the road along with a kind of weary crankiness.

calendar girl

With the indispensable help of a friend, I've designed a 2013 calendar featuring twelve of my glorious paintings to see you through the coming year. I am waiting for it to be printed, so these are the covers. Then I will proceed to sell them out of hand, or by mail, but I am taking orders via email - erica@ericahauser.com - or phone, or out on the streets. Update: they are for sale in Clay Wood and Cotton's online shop (click to order).

piePhone

I got the phone booth I recently wrote about. The day after I brought it home, I woke to find it frosted in the morning sun. 

 Took photos like it's a new addition to the family. There will be plenty more documentation, no doubt, as I clean it up and make plans for what I am going to do. I think it could be fun. So far the response has been enthusiastic.

The pies I made for Thanksgiving tomorrow- pecan with chocolate, and caramelized pumpkin.

I've been stacking wood every day, so I am going to enjoy the time off, consuming back all the calories I've burned lately. I tell people as far as that's concerned, I just about break even.

our rock

When I was a kid, we had some good conversations out on the big rock. From there we had a view of the pond, part of the house when the leaves were down, and the tops of the woodpiles. The horse and the goats would have been nosing around somewhere on the hill. My mother took this picture from the yard one afternoon, unbeknownst to us, focusing her camera between the trees past my swing set. The bleached-out color of the grass and the leaves on the ground past the stone wall make me think that it is late fall. I am wearing my red raincoat, magenta pants and green boots, a bright spot of color on the rock with my father, and we are talking about something, or nothing, or everything.

super bowls

I painted these two bowls ('Super' and 'Orange/White Truck') to auction off at a fundraiser for Schoharie County's food pantries, called Empty Bowls. The event is this Sun, Nov 18, 11-2 at the Best Western in Cobleskill, NY, and along with the auction there will be many hand-painted (and some hand-thrown) bowls to buy for $5 each and fill with delicious soup. 

 Anyone familiar with my 'Super' painting will recognize this design, which seemed like a good word to put on this dark shiny bowl.

 This is the 1971 'dreamsicle' truck I saw (and coveted) in August. It bowled me over, and now it's all over a bowl.

weathered

The day following my last post, I'd have been happy if it were merely a "leaf-strewn ground" I was traversing, but a snowstorm blew into our region and I found myself working in blustery wind and wet snow. "Too early for this," I grumbled, peeling off my cold, sodden gloves. Too early for shoveling paths across yards from pile to stack. Skidding cars on slick roads. It's all melted now, but it was a preview of the impending season. Got new snow tires on my truck yesterday, an attempt to ensure a mild winter. People are saying they think it's going to be "a rough one," though I don't know what they base this on. I still maintain an enthusiasm for snow, the real beauty and fun of it as well as the coziness of watching it from inside (preferably by a fire), but it does complicate work and travel. What is with all this weather talk?
On to symbolism-- I was walking from my parked truck back to a farm stand, and came upon a small dead black-and-white bird by the roadside. I picked it up; it was weightless in my hand, its feathers soft. I put it down and went to buy my squashes and stalks of brussels sprouts. I came back laden with bags and placed the bird on a towel and brought it home, to be photographed by my friend, or painted by me, or written about in some blog or other.
On to politics-- I am very glad that Obama was indeed re-elected!
On to art-- I  have a painting (the Casa Grande w/Bottles) in the juried 'Under 40 Show' that just opened at the Woodstock Artists' Association & Museum this weekend. Aside from the 12 or so artists in the show, only a couple of whom were there, everyone in attendance seemed to be well OVER 40 (if not 50).. a lively, unfamiliar crowd. In their concurrent Holiday Show, my small painting sold, so I will bring another to replace it. Both shows run through Dec 31.

long shadows

So far it feels more like 'daylight moving time' than daylight savings time. The hour of light just shifts from late afternoon to early morning, which is of use to some people and inconvenient to others. Such as those of us who work outside in the late afternoon into evening and gradually find ourselves enveloped by dusk before we have finished. Then of course the window of daylight closes gradually from each end of the day, every day, until we are sandwiched between layers of darkness. The sun sinks behind the trees by mid-afternoon, casting long shadows across the leaf-strewn ground, and it feels truly November. Waking to frost on the grass, sliding directly into layers of clothing nestled inside one another from the day before. Fingers already getting cold while working- time to find the warmer gloves, though even that doesn't always keep the chill from my hands. A customer, after I stacked her firewood, brought me hot tea and leftover Halloween candy. This I nervously nibbled as I drove past gas station after mobbed (or drained) gas station, the gauge hovering near empty.
People I know have been gathering supplies and bringing them down to the areas most devastated by the hurricane which swept through last week. Floods and power outages, and then this cold weather bearing down. I mope about darkness, but I can come home to light and warmth. My studio may be cold sometimes, but it wasn't filled with water like many NYC artists found their studios and galleries. These are the times when most of my concerns seem self-indulgent, my modest artistic accomplishments beside the point. I feel like this occasionally when I read of trouble in foreign places, where you can't even wake up without a constant fear for your life and safety, the daily possibility of your world blasting apart. When it happens closer to home we are more swiftly reminded of our vulnerabilities.
While waiting for my truck to be fixed this morning, I was aurally assaulted by a TV cooking show, the hosts loudly extolling the glories of a sandwich to the uproarious applause of the studio audience. Not that I don't love sandwiches- in fact, I went and picked one up after voting- but the excessive animation seemed inane. I admit most TV affects me this way.
Yes, today is election day. I do feel confident that Obama will be re-elected. I can't bear to imagine the ramifications of the alternative. That will be all for the political segment; I generally leave most articulation to better-informed sources. However, these subjects have been on my mind more than art has, recently, along with the reality of my work schedule and the vagaries of the weather.
That November light does have its particular beauty; this evening I drive home along the river with one cold hand clutching the wheel and the other wrapped around a coffee, agape at the russet and yellow trees aglow in the setting sun. Reflected in the water, those fiery colors get me every time.

animated

Here is an animation my friend just made, after he finished photographing a batch of my recent paintings for me (the majority of the last 18 months' worth). They were leaning all in a row and I was about to put them away, when he said, hmm, hang on. He took a number of stills and cut them all together. My paintings, like blocks of color and pattern, disappearing into the next frame, my figure an efficient blur against the white wall.

hold the phone

I was driving by an antiques place today, in between stacking jobs, when I saw this old telephone booth for sale. I nearly bought it in a burst of enthusiasm, but decided I'd better mull it over. I'm still thinking about what I might do with such a thing... install it in some larger interior space and turn it into a mini gallery to exhibit tiny works? A lending library for arty types? An intimate performance space?
It's similar to the booth I painted many years ago, the one that was adjacent to a diner upstate, and which finally disappeared, either sold or scrapped. It's not that I think it's the most beautiful thing ever, or that I view it through a haze of nostalgia; but I do find appeal in the repurposing of a once-ubiquitous, unremarkable little structure that is now nearly obsolete. Another way of saying, I want this, if I can somehow justify the acquisition. Otherwise it will have to take its place alongside the '71 orange/white pickup truck in my mental garage.

pie eyed

I am always happy to read the writing on the wall if Pies is the word. It reflected from a cafe's sunny window. This photo may make a good painting for my unofficial (when might it BE official?) 'series' of words or parts of words, painted big, spilling beyond the edges of the canvas.

It's not a word nor a sign, just a train chugging around the base of the mountain, viewed from Little Stony Point on the Hudson River. 

Since when is 'truck' a registered trademark? This sign, overgrown with dying weeds, was outside a shuttered restaurant, so their claim on the word didn't last long. I'm taking it back. 

superstarstruck

I have three paintings in this group show, in the building where my studio is:

From the press release:
"The exhibition brings together ten artists from the newly formed group, The KuBe
Collective, at Ethan Cohen’s Kunsthalle Beacon (KuBe). Finding Our New Fort does not
refer to a particular subject matter; rather it aims to be a reflection of the artists who
work in one building, under one roof, collectively."

"...Erica Hauser's small paintings are ironic observations of the familiar: a truck, stars,
and text. In the work, White Super, the word “super” barely fits the limits of the canvas..."

Combining the three subjects of my paintings, which the curator selected from my studio, together they form 'superstarstruck'. Also, the blurb above made me think about the element of irony in my work. Whether it's ironic in a literal way, or the other way around, it's whatever a viewer perceives, and I can appreciate that.
These are all previously exhibited pieces, but are installed in this large space in a new way and interspersed among many different kinds of work. The show will be up through the end of the year and is open by appointment.

cold drinks and leaves

An artist friend started an informal 'Art College' group to get people to think more freely about their work and to interpret ideas, an opportunity to experiment without pressure- art without the market. The 1st assignment was to take 2 unfinished pieces and combine them into a finished, purely aesthetic & non-functional object. 

The latter spec was natural enough for me- my paintings are mostly non-functional- but the idea of repurposing two works-in-progress or two abandoned works as 'raw materials' as someone put it, was not something I had done very often at all.

In my studio I had this 6"x6" collage/painting on wood (based on another painting of mine, made w/a print of a smaller piece..etc). It was grimy and flat and seemed in my eyes a lazy appropriation of my own work.  9"x14" wooden cabinet door I'd primed & painted leaves on, and had mostly used to prop open my window last spring until it fell out the window and broke, but I kept it around because I still thought I'd do something with it.

 I repainted parts of each piece then painted them the same color to blend their surfaces and nestled the smaller wooden square within the frame of the cabinet door; it looked simple and incongruous to me, and I thought vaguely of Rosenquist's random pop-art pairings- one creating a narrative for the other.

+

=

Even if that 'narrative' is a visual non sequitur. I had the fun of piloting two different picture planes and seeing where they landed.

moods

These two are older pieces I recently came across. The many moods of pumpkins, in preparation for Halloween- I did this a few years ago while painting with my young niece. 

This one below is from school (so we're talking over 10 years ago), in a drawing class I liked a lot because we worked from the model and were urged to focus on line & contour, making very decisive marks. I remember feeling challenged, but I believe that the work I do currently reflects the eye/hand I developed there. Three poses I put together in a tableaux to amuse myself, adding some details. 

A Very Important Person: This picture is from one of the old train brochures amid the loaned box of road maps. For some reason, I found myself looking at it and reading the text for a long time. I can't explain why.

reflections

hitchhiker on the hood

no reception, it's just there in croton falls. so far impossible to photograph because of reflections, but the show in the windows is a mix of recent and less-recent paintings. I've already posted about it, but here's me there.

show's over, at hudson beach glass.

                                 

hojo's 28 flavors

This new painting, 9"x15" acrylic on wood-- full-size above, detail below-- I based on an old Howard Johnson's road map. Landmark for hungry Americans. There used to be thousands of these restaurants/motels across the US, now there are only two left. There is nothing like painting from a graphic image like this- three colors printed on top of each other- to make me pay close attention to details, simplified as they are. As with many subjects I paint, this is not my own nostalgia I am tapping, but my appreciation of an American ideal. Turning a stop that's "on the way to someplace" into a destination in itself, complete with "delicious food" and 28 flavors of ice cream. I think this map is from the mid-1950's. A plunge into the internet rabbit-hole turned up some good info on its history as well as several references to the Hojo's featured in a Mad Men episode last season. (Unsurprisingly, so much so that I have never felt the need to mention it here, I love this show.) Many variations on the architecture of each location, but nearly always striking in its heyday with the vivid orange roof.

instrumental

The French horn I painted last week. It's about 7"x 7" oil on wood. As I wrote to the person who commissioned it, a musician who is giving it as a gift to her mentor: "I am attempting to get the essence of this beautiful and complicated instrument, enough detail to see what's going on, but with a loose brushiness." I worked mostly from one of the photos she supplied, using a gray/black/white palette. Depicting shiny metal, alternatingly sharp and out of focus, and allowing layers to dry in between, reminded me of my attempt to paint the disco ball last winter. Not going for photographic likeness, but a textural interpretation in paint.

harvest moon

Another week has gone by, and now another September is over. Some things were accomplished:
a 7"x7" commissioned painting of a French horn; another 9"x13" painting I'd been working on; haircut; wood stacked; an attempt at meditation; a couple of arts-related meetings, postcards for Drive-By show picked up; time with friends; dogs and chickens cared for and occasionally chased; zucchini bread baked; late tomatoes picked; and so on.
Others, like credits or minutes, get rolled over into the next month.
Tonight, a harvest moon.
I've been reading some great books. But tonight, my eyelids droop, as I got meager sleep last night. Makes for a dreamlike day, like when the registration marks on a printed page don't line up, everything a bit blurred.

miles to the gallon

Don't know why an entire week elapsed since my last post. Some of this, some of that. 

Here's a new painting, 8"x10" acrylic, of something I photographed a while ago. Price of gas has gone WAY up since. Why, I remember when it was fifteen cents. Okay, a buck fifteen. 

Sometimes you need one. 

Pie I made with almond crust & crumbly oat topping: strawberries picked earlier this season & frozen; peaches from the farmers mkt; rhubarb from the garden.

Two more 2"x2" collage/paint pieces. I have a lot of material and I like constructing them, with their suggestions of narrative. Six of the tiny works have sold in the show.

Drive a yellow convertible to LA, or turn it around and head up the coast into the candy-striped horizon.

The most beautiful view of these sherbet and slate colored hills, your apricot beret tilted rakishly and my striped scarf streaming behind me, as I steer our stylish car through the countryside.