The Name Game

I'm getting married in a matter of weeks, and one of the things I'm thinking about is my name.  Shall I keep it?  Shall I change it?  And why?

It was easy when I married the first time, 37 years ago.  I was young with a family name both difficult to spell and to pronounce.    My name was such a pain in the neck that I vowed, in 2nd grade, to marry a man with a one syllable last name that started in the beginning of the alphabet.  Seriously.  While that was not the reason I married Steve, I was very happy to take on the last name of Bayne, and Lisa Bayne I have been for 37 years.

My career began after I became Bayne, and my children are both Baynes.  I love sharing a name with them, and hardly think of the name as that of my ex.  It is our name:  Nick's and Zana's and mine.  And I suspect no one would ever find me or know me professionally if I were change my name at this point in my career.

And yet.  The "yet" is that I love sharing a name, and it is meaningful to me to share a name with the man to whom I am committing my life.  Astor?  Lisa Astor?  I don't know her.  But I think I will be able to know Lisa Bayne Astor and am excited to get to know her as I begin this next, wonderful chapter of my life.

What's so Modern About Craft?

Oh my.  The more things change the more they remain the same.  I'm talking about craft, about "making,  about handmade, and about respect. Here, in 2013, there is a DIY revolution in the midst, there is a locavore movement continuing to gain traction everywhere, there are old people and young people making and crafting and designing and yet the debate rages on:  Is it art?  Is it design?  Is it craft?  I say, who cares what it is called?

I was struck at last week's American Craft Council show in San Francisco by the living, breathing chasm exhibited at the show.  At the front of the show were curated,  designed rooms, designed by interior designers and inspired by - and featuring -  some handmade work.  These rooms were beautiful and cool and modern, and didn't look ANYTHING like what was being shown inside the booths of the show, where an older, warmer, and sometimes dated look dominated.  I appreciate the ACC trying to show how to live with craft in a modern setting, but I could not help but wonder, Where are the millenial makers?  Why are they not at this show?

My daughter, Zana Bayne runs her own business,where she and an assistant hand-make edgy, modern, leather accessories which sometimes could make a mother blush.  Lady Gaga,  Katy Perry, Madonna, and editors from Vogue are among her admirers and wearers.  While she literally cuts and rivets and dyes everything herself, Zana would no more consider herself a part of the craft world than Gaga herself would.


Less edgy, but equally handmade is the work of Margo Petitti, who crafts fine Italian menswear fabrics into sleek accessories for body or home.  While the thought of "crafted" scarves might normally conjure up hand-dyed or handwoven, Margo manages to meld old world and new, creating modern cool with traditional techniques.

The best restaurants I know, like  Coi in San Francisco, clearly show the imprint of the chef's or bartender's hand, with crafted cocktails, slow food, and dishes worthy of all the photos that foodies like me take endlessly.

And so I wonder, can the debate end and can we just relax about nomenclature and allow creative individuals to continue to use their hands and minds without our needing to label the work as art or craft or design?  Obviously, the desire - or need - to create by hand is intrinsic to being human. It is an unalienable characteristic that no matter how much we try to examine it or name it, lives on.  Let's let it be and allow it to flower in this century.

Take One Ring Off, Put Another Ring On

On August 1, 37 years and 3 months after my marriage began, I finally became officially divorced.  The judge signed and stamped the documents, and in the name of the government, my first marriage is now legally over.  In all other ways, the marriage has been over for a long time, with a legal separation of 4 years and a growing chasm in the relationship for a decade prior to that.  Yet, I had no idea how I would feel once the court decreed me officially single for the first time since I was 23 years old.  The answer?   I was - and am - feeling,  happy, relieved, and complete, and calmly ready for the next chapter.

The reality is that my marriage did not end in acrimony, and my ex and I remain far more than civil, though you can't really call it friends.  We gave birth to two incredible individuals, and we remain united as their loving, proud parents.  For years we had a satisfying and strong relationship; I have no need to deny it nor forget it.  It's just plain over now, no longer right for who we are today.  Unconventionally, my ex and I still live in the same building we lived in while married, though now have it separated into two different apartments.  He is upstairs; my new life partner and soon-to-be-husband are downstairs.  It works for us, at least for now.  Really.

But I think the greatest contributor to feeling at peace rather than feeling in mourning nor celebratory has been the process of leaving, the process of figuring out who I am in the world as just me.  It has often been rocky, and I've written about the ups and downs of single life, baring more, perhaps, than was wise in an effort to get in touch with my own feelings.

Here I am now, 60 years old, single in the eyes of the law, in a committed relationship that is so permanent and loving, and which will be legally recognized as marriage 69 days from today, so ready to share the rest of my life with Andy, so sure of myself and my comittment to marriage - again.  I recognize that if my life was the fodder for tabloids, it would read something like, "10 weeks after she divorce, she remarried", and it would sound all rushed and rebound-like.  But nothing could be farther from the truth.  What is seen in the eyes of the law only tells a teense of the story.