Notes on a Life (Eleanor Coppola)
Wed., July 1, 05:33 PM
I mentioned that I’ve been reading Eleanor Coppola’s Notes on a Life. I enjoy biographies, even those that are somewhat disorganized. After all, everyone has stories worth telling.
Eleanor is a woman just a little older than I; I should be able to relate to some of what she has to say. The dichotomy of having personal interests other than being the perfect homemaker resonates, of course. Eleanor certainly carved a career for herself, all the while feeling guilty for not being available for her children.
On the other hand, I don’t really connect with her career, because it is so far out of my understanding. In the world of film, she is best known for documentaries, especially those known as “the making of …” I would not be surprised if she said (though I don’t remember her saying it) that being present — and useful — on her husband’s movies had a lot to do with keeping her marriage together. Geniuses are notably hard to stay married to.
She has been all over the world and seen many remarkable sights, and she has the insight to appreciate her experiences. It is personal bias, perhaps, that makes me impatient with descriptions of excesses. Five-course meals. Three-bedroom hotel suites. Silk garments with hours of hand-worked embroidery. (That’s another post, I think.)
I remember two stories that piqued my interest. The first was a limo ride, with a Colombian driver, in November of 2000. If you remember, there was a presidential election in the U.S. that month, and a recount was being done in Florida. The driver was laughing, “It won’t change a thing. They do this in Colombia all the time. Every time they count the votes, the winner has more votes than he had before.” I was reminded of the story again when I read about the election in Iran. Recounting didn’t change a thing, did it?
The other story was interesting just because I am always trying to relate stuff to something I know. Eleanor and some friends have created an art experience called Circle of Memory, and they install it in various cities for short periods — maybe a week. In 2004 they were installing it in San Diego, a city I have never visited. It was going into the Museum of Photographic Arts, which is in Balboa Park. And I thought, “I do know someone who knows where that is.”
