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Two months in Mooste have left time as a plastic thing. It's collapsed and expanded simultaneously. I don't know how long I was actually there. My memory vacillates. By a clock of friends, I think I was there a year. But with all the things still left to do, do again in Mooste, it was only a dozen days.
With another week, here's how I'd spend it.
First, I'd buy a kilo of buckwheat, pouch of sour cream, and jar of ligonberry jam. Then I would eat it all. But I'd be sick, so I'd have to climb the hill past the lake and take a nap in a field. I would ride the bicycle back and forth from the post office when I felt better, and hopefully see one or two men passed out on the side of the road from boozing it too early and too long. I'd go blueberry picking in the forest and after climbing about in it's industrial vertical rhythms, I'd be inspired to paint for hours with the relief- the freedom of having no distractions. The next day I'd follow Evelyn around the forest to learn how she finds so many mushrooms. Then I'd write a book about it and she'd be famous. I'd collaborate! And walk up the hill to visit the 80-year-old woman who tends an impressive garden by herself. She swings her scythe high and swift. I want to hear John and Evelyn play the Jew’s harp again, and get lost navigating the dirt roads around Vissli. Apparently this is something that every MoKS resident does, and I wonder how many times the couple with the black Chow have asked one of us, "Were did you come from?" in the most confused manner, wondering how one actual walks to Vissli from New York. I would spend time with Roomit, and his posse, play hide and seek in the vodka factory with them, and recruit some for portraits and interviews. I'd like to do this every year.
Mooste is a place very conducive to making things. Or art. It gives you quiet. There is the landscape to chew on while you think, and the inspiration of Evelyn and John. Mooste has left me without haste or the frenetic forward motion of any clock that most new Yorkers carry around with them like a virus.
A sincere thanks to Roomit and the Allese family, Sveta Bogomolova, and all the Mooste noored for trusting me to paint their portraits, telling me their stories, and teaching me how to get over a hangover with pickle juice. Actually, I could have done without that.
Evelyn and John have put together an inspiring place that I am very glad to have been a part of. Thank you Evelyn and John for those 61 days, or however long it really was.
I’ll make you burgers anytime Mooste,
Jane
www.janelafargehamill.com

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