We’ve walked by these red maples for years and never noticed the ones sharing a branch. It is hard to tell which tree is growing into which. The shared branch is about fifteen feet up and we’re usually distracted by the invasive Angelica growing below. Now that we have spotted it we stop and stare for a while. Still wondering which tree initiated the contact.
We ran into Steve Piotrowski in the park this morning. He was looking for Trott Lake. He must have spotted it on a map to the side of Log Cabin Road but the road is closed to cars for that stretch so we suggested he park by the cops that were hanging out. We guessed correctly that he might be about to do some plein-air painting. But not plein-air painting, plein-air “drawing.” Steve told us he had often wondered why his paintings, most done from photos, didn’t really look like the locations and he figured out that the photos were distorting the depth in the settings. So he now does the sketches en plein-air and then paints at home.
Finally, this Sunday we found ourselves in a situation where we could listen to WAYO’s “Up On The Roof” and “Fantastic Voyage.” Heard “Bull Fight” by Cappy Lewis for the first time in our lives!
Robert Frank’s shoes under glass at the Visual Studies Workshop in Rochester, New York
There are a few myths surrounding Visual Studies Workshop. I remember their first space on Elton Street, but just barely. I clearly remember many shows in their sprawling University Avenue space. Our neighbor, Rick Hock, was director there for a while. It may have been during his tenure when we first saw Robert Franks shoes in a display case. We heard Frank donated the shoes he wore while shooting photos for “The Americans” and then we heard he had left them behind when he was chased out of the apartment he was staying in. Whatever the story I wasn’t prepared for their dandyness. They look like bowling shows.
Founded in 1969 by photographer, educator and curator Nathan Lyons, VSW was one of the earliest not-for-profit, artist-run spaces in the country. Through an affiliation with SUNY Brockport they offered MA and MFA accreditation until 2022. Today they have set up shop at 36 King Street in the Susan B. Anthony neighborhood with over a million photography and film-related objects, exhibition spaces and an auditorium.
Robert Frank in still from 1972 Visual Studies film entitled “About Us”
Tara Merenda Nelson, chief curator at VSW, told us Frank spent some time in Rochester in the early seventies, just after working with the Rolling Stones. He used Super 8 movie stills from his Route 66 (The Americans) trip for the cover of the Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main St. Tara told us Frank refused to teach but instead dove right into projects with the students. The 16mm film “About Us” was made over a three month period in 1971-72. Each student shot a section of the film while re-interpreting the idea of the self portrait. Frank appears throughout as the group encounters security guards at Kodak Park, a gas station owner on Dewey Avenue, and some of the students parents. Just seeing Robert Frank frolicing at Cobbs Hill is a thrill. The film perfectly capturess what Frank calls “the chaos of the present.”
I grabbed this photo from Jason Wilder‘s site. I didn’t ask permission and I hope he doesn’t mind. I just thought it would be the most effective way to steer a few eyeballs toward his work. He collects found photos, “curates” is a better word, and his own photography has the same miix of mysteriousness and wonder.
Hulbert’s Oyster Bay business card
I stole this card offthe Gonechester website. I don’t think Geoffrey will mind. Osmer Hulbert, “one of Rochester’s most conspicuous personages” according to a 1886 newspaper notice of his passing, owned a “recess,” one of the first restaurants in New York State on Main street, where Powers Building now stands. The obit state, “He was a perfect encyclopedia of local history, and to hear him talk when he was in the right mood was particularly interesting. He had a remarkable memory and his recollections of old Rochesterians were always enjoyable. “
Today, Gonechester is the perfect encyclopedia of local history. Hulbert’s Oyster Bar is just a tidbit on the site. I get lost there for hours. Just imagine how long it takes Geoffrey to research and compile this treasure trove. In anything other than Trump world he would be paid handsomely for his efforts, preserving our history. I hope you find the site as enjoyable as I do.
The purple leaves above could be the last of our basil and the tomato plants are mostly brown but they’re still producing fruit. The arugula and lettuces love the cooler weather so there is plenty for salads. Our neighbor needed a cup of cilantro last night for a dish he was making and we were able to provide that. The habanero peppers go a long ways. I chop them into tiny little pieces and my fingertips sizzle when I’m done. The green leaves are mache (pronounced mosh) lettuce and we love it. We planted a row in the early Spring. It went to seed months later and now we have a whole patch in full bloom. Our Padrón pepper plants have provided us with an appetizer each night for the last two months. I guess I’m giving thanks.
Margaret Explosion poster for Wednesday gig at Little Theatre Cafe 10.08.25
“Isn’t planning a way to steal the present’s greatest mission?” – Eduardo Chillida
The beach was crowded over the weekend, as crowded as a summer day. We ran into our yoga teacher down there. His class stopped meeting in the pandemic and never came back. Apparently the space, in a grade school gym, raised the rent. Peggi and I do a little on our own but it is not the same as setting aside a block of time and forcing yourself to relax for the duration.
William Gropper “The Opposition” lithograph Collection MAG
I have admired the William Gropper painting in the MAG’s American Art gallery for many years. It is not there anymore. They’ve moved it to the Lockhart Gallery where the curators have built a show around it with works on paper, all from their collection, that can’t stand daily museum light. The lithograph above has the same title, “The Opposition” as the painting but the print is better! More concentrated energy, more dramatic, marvelously 3-dimensional..
Like the great Honoré Daumier who satirized the bourgeoisie and politicians while championing democratic ideals, William Gropper is a social realist. Rockefeller had a social realist mural by Diego Rivera plastered over. We first came across social realist Ben Shahn’s work in Syracuse when we came face to face with his Sacco and Vanzetti mural. He depicts Italian immigrants who were caught up in America’s first Red Scare. (Shahn’s show at the Jewish Museum in New York has just been extended. Philip Guston took it to Nixon.) It is a risky business but their work stands the test of time.
William Gropper “American Folklore Portfolio” 1953 Color Lithograph, collection of MAG
The color lithographs above were based on Gropper’s 1946 “Folklore Map of America,” a celebration of America in the aftermath of victory in World War II. The illustration appeared in Holiday Magazine and was widely circulated in schools and libraries throughout the country. And wouldn’t you know it, Senator Joseph McCarthy’s lawyer Roy Cohn, who was later Trump’s personal lawyer, found it in State Department libraries abroad and in 1953 he labeled Gropper one of the “fringe supporters and sympathizers” of Communism whose works had infected the State Department. Gropper was pilloried in televised congressional testimony and earned and became one the first artists of the era to be blacklisted. This was the second “Red Scare.” Take a glance at Gropper’s grilling in the Senate hearings.
The war on woke is raging. Books are being banned. The administration must approve the art in the Smithsonian. Mr. “fit-as-a-fiddle” Hegseth has gone on a rampage against “beardos” and “fat generals.” (What about the VP’s facial hair and the Commander and Chief’s gut?) Welcome to the third Red Scare.
New acquired work by Anthony Pearson and John Rhoden at MAG
The Biennial Finger Lakes Exhibition at MAG has been up all summer and we finally got over there to see the show before it closes on October 5th. The Sol Lewitt wall drawing on the way in is a marvel and the newly acquired pieces by Anthony Pearson and John Rhoden (above – an especially inspired pairing by the way!) had me really jacked up for a good show.
Entering the Docent Gallery for the Finger Lakes Show and working clockwise the first piece we saw was an impressive Lee Hoag assemblage. A curator could have built a show around this one piece if there was anything else at all to put in dialog with it. Timothy Peterson, MAG’s Curator of Contemporary Art, served as juror this year. The exhibition is open to artists working in all media in a 27-county area in western and upstate New York. There should have been plenty of material for a cohesive show and yet it felt uncomfortable. It was not fun to look at. And now I have to explain my reaction.
“Tabula Rasa, Durand Eastman Park, Lake Ontario” pinhole photo by Joseph Ziolkowski in 2025 Finger Lakes Exhibition
I rule out academic, cute and garish and I am drawn toward either expressive or distilled. Stopping me in my tracks is a good starting point and if I find myself looking at something for long time I call that a winner. I like Joe Ziolkowski’s pinhole photo.
“Seville Oranges” acrylic painting by Pauline Wegman in 2025 Finger Lakes Exhibition
I could live with Pauline Wegman’s painting of Spanish oranges.
“Deutschland in Miniature” photograph by Francis Pellegrino in 2025 Finger Lakes Exhibition
Francis Pellegrino’s photo still has me puzzled. The glossy presentation looks like an image on a monitor or a Lightbox. I really couldn’t be sure that it was of a miniature. The sensation is like something a surveillance camera would catch. I’m not done with this one.
Matthew’s text read, “Wow. Crazy Madrid Derby!” He knows not to give away too much. We usually watch La Liga matches from ESPN’s “On Demand” section, hours or days after they were played live. We follow the two big Madrid clubs and when they meet – our allegiance is solidly in Atletico’s camp. Matthew knows this so how should we have read Matthew’s text?
I took it to mean there were a few goals and the match went back and forth and maybe it ended in a draw. We were overjoyed to see Atletico win 4-2, Real’s first loss of the season. The following day we watched Barcelona beat San Sebastian’s team and move ahead of Madrid into first place. Following that we watched Barca and PSG meet early in the Champions League and we reacquainted ourselves with the idea that Paris is still the best team in the world.
We were reading how octopus, a favorite dish in Spain and Portugal. is now in abundance off the coast of England, a consequence of global warming. Lyme disease didn’t used to be in the Adirondacks either. Our friend got that this summer. We spent the afternoon pulling invasive plants on our property. Garlic mustard, wisteria, black swallowwort, euonymus (burning bush) and the poisonous snakeroot. We suit up for that. And we took our last swim of the year to wash the ticks off. Temperatures are expected to reach into the eighties this weekend.
I have always marveled the way our friends choose to live – for the past thirty years or so, off the grid. I would not choose to live that way but I admire it, not just the small footprint but its purity, a minimalism that opens your senses to overwhelming beauty.
Maybe it was a just a confluence of annoying appointments this summer, doctors etc. – it seems anything would be an intrusion in this idyllic setting – but not all years in the woods are the same. Maybe it is Father Time rattling his scythe. We are close in age and that is top of mind. Maybe it the outside stepping on their toes. Tech advances do not lift all boats.
For now, the local libraries are still stocked with the classics of literature. Infinite Jest is still on their shelf at home and mushroom reference books are at the ready. There is plenty of wood for winter.
Half order of Biscuits, sausage and gravy at Flo’s Diner in Canastota, New York
It is a five hour trip to Crown Point if you take the back roads. We left after our first cup of coffee, had one more on the road and then stopped midway in Canastota near Cicero at Flo’s Diner. How could we not stop there? A low slung building from the 50s with outdoor seating and giant white hen standing by the road. Only after pulling over did I see the sign that read “Home of the 10¢ Coffee. I just had to google where is the cent key is on my keyboard in order to type that last sentence – that’s how old- fashioned this place is.
Inside. the space was huge with tables in two dining rooms and most of them were full. We sat at the long counter. Desserts, that looked like they were made in someone’s home, lined the counter, the way the tapas are displayed in Spanish restaurants. And copies of newspapers were there for customer to read.
The chalkboard behind us listed the day’s specials. “Biscuits, Sausage and Gravy” caught our eye. The woman who was smoking a cigarette outside when we arrived waited on us. We asked if we could split an order and we each had a cup of coffee. We paid for our lunch at the end of counter. The total was $6.40. I put the change from a ten dollar bill in the big coffee can next to the cash register. I took a picture of Peggi standing next to the big chicken before we drove off.
Amy Rigby reading from her newest book,”Girl to Country” at Bop Shop in Rochester, New York
Years ago Wreckless Eric proclaimed, “All tours begin in Rochester.” Sure enough, Amy Rigby opened her book/music tour at the Bop Shop last night albeit without the book. The shipment from the publisher was a day late for her tour. She said she had to buy one of her new books, “Girl to Country,” from Amazon so she could read from an actual copy. She didn’t let that phase her as she effortless moved from chapter to song, both expertly crafted with a keen observational sense.
Her chapter on meeting Eric at a gig in Hull was especially exquisite. He was djing with a crate of records and she already had “Whole Wide World” in her set. She asked if he would join her for that one. She had transposed the song and he told her, “The song has two chords and both of your are wrong.”
The average American teen spends 4.8 hours a day on social media and nearly three-quarters of them say they’ve used an AI chatbot for companionship. I am not average or a teen but my chatbot hours per day number is definitely going up. Not for companionship, that part sort of creeps me out. I wish ChatGPT wouldn’t compliment me, pretend to be flirting with me or even give me a thumb up. I assume I could just ask it not to respond with “Perfect” and “Excellent question” but I don’t like feeling responsible for its development. I might have to get over that as every question I ask it is another set of data points.
I was using the free version for a few months but I pushed it too far with questions related to a not-for-profit corporation I am connected with and it would not go further without me subscribing. It’s better than Apple Support for geeky stuff. I’ve been putting tomatoes from our garden on my morning toast and topping it with olive oil. When I asked ChatGPT why tomatoes and olive oil is such a good combination it replied, “Fresh tomatoes and olive oil are kind of a perfect duet—like Cannonball Adderley with Joe Zawinul.” It punctuated that line with a smiley face and then went on to explain the chemical properties. I was a little taken aback by the personalized analogy so I said, “I like your analogy of the perfect duet – Cannonball Adderley and Joe Zawinul. Do you know something about my musical tastes?” Sure enough I had asked about a jazz 45 and it had that info in the profile it is building on me.
My desktop computer started acting funny. Wouldn’t search for files, windows from different apps would interleave, so my pallets from Photoshop would be on top of browser windows, that sort of thing. I ordered a new one and tracked the delivery. It was in China one day and at my front door two days later. Because I didn’t want to migrate my problems from on machine to the next I chose to set it up as new and reinstall all my apps. It has been a mess for days but I am coming up for air to post something. I’m not going to talk about comedians getting canceled but I am thinking about it.
We got to Scott McCarney’s lecture a little late. We were walking along the lake. He was already in the post-presentation, taking-questions-from-the-audience phase. Pretty impressive, the number of people that came out at two in the afternoon on a gorgeous last of summer day. We will watch his presentation when Flower City Arts Center posts it to YouTube.
We knew quite a few of the people there, that’s the way it works in Rochester, so we hung around afterward talking. Elizabeth, who bought our house in the city twenty years ago, told us she was painting the house so we drove by on our way home. It is a bold butter yellow, bold for Rochester. Ethylene was out front of her house, on the corner, showing her garden to a friend. We slowed to a crawl to say hello but Ethylene wanted to give us a hug so we stopped. Peggi and I were both thinking the same thing. “Did her husband, Willie, pass away?” We both breathed a sigh of relief when she pointed to a wilting plant and said, “Willie must have forgotten to water that .” And just like that he appeared. We talked about the old neighbors and the new and for the next hour we felt like we had never moved away.
Street performances happen all the time in European countries. Ours are reserved for the Fringe Festival. Last night the Italian aerialists, eVenti Verticali, performed downtown at Parcel 5. An inflatable orb was suspended from a large crane, hoisted into the air behind a triumphant musical score while acrobats swung from wires while creating time-lapse like flower formations in and around the orb. It was rather sensational.
Abraham family and some of my family at my brother, Tim’s, First Communion
My mom has her Devo hat on in this picture. Looking back, I see she was very fashionable but at the time I resisted the white bucks she insisted we all wear. My brother Mark has my friend, John Abraham’s, hat on. John is looking over my right shoulder and I’m clutching my missal. I can see some holy cards sticking out of it. We used those as bookmarks and I still have quite a collection of them. We’re standing in front of our grammer school. The convent, where most of our teachers lived, is seen in the background and the church, where we had just celebrated my brother Tim’s First Communion, was next door. Tim’s wearing a white tie.
There were at least five Catholic churches in Irondequoit when we moved here. The two on Culver are both senior living facilities now and the parishes all united as one, named after the first Native American saint, Kateri. Church attendance has withered. Millions of people are confessing their secrets to spiritual chatbots now. And then there is organized religion’s attempt to shove credible sexual abuse allegations under the rug. That cost ourl diocese 246 million in a settlement that was finally distributed to the victims.
My mother was working for the diocese when she married my father just ten months before I was born. The office was located in the former Knights of Columbus building at 50 Chestnut Street. We took the bus down there after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays because Catholic schools didn’t have gyms. The CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) had a few gyms, an auditorium, a pool and even a candy counter as you came out of the locker room. The Diocesan offices were upstairs and the priests lived on the top floors. There was a sign on the corner of the building that read “If You Lived Here You Would Be Home By Now.” I was never sure why that merited the effort. Garth Fagan Dance occupies some of this space today.
My mother would tell stories about how the priests she for were forever chasing the girls around the office. I would laugh at the thought and she would say, “No, they were bad!”
We went to both a high school reunion and a family reunion over the weekend. At the first my former teammates were still digesting the fact that our soccer coach is serving life in prison for sexual abuse. When the first allegation was made by a teammate our school, just like the church, quietly transferred him to another school where other allegations were addressed. At the family reunion my cousin told me he received his portion of the settlement from the church. Some consolation. I have two cousins who were nuns. One left the order with her partner. The other is still a nun with partner and still fighting the church hierarchy for more meaningful roles for women. What kind of religion insists on an all male, unmarried priesthood? The job description itself attracts perpetrators.
“City of Angels” by Margaret Explosion. Song recorded live at Little Theatre Café on September 3, 2025
I had the window seat on the way in to Los Angeles. I put my iPad camera in record and pressed it flat against the window to steady the cam. It worked until we touched down but I won’t spoil that. The song is from last week. Jack was unable to make the gig so no bass clarinet. It was the night before the first day of school for Melissa’s kids so no cello either. We called Bernie Heveron that afternoon and he sat in on guitar.
It was a good night, crowded but oddly quiet, plenty of attentive new faces. It affected the way we played and, of course, it was all new with Bernie. We had played with Bernie back in the early eighties but he played bass back then.
Joe Beard and Frank DeBlase checking out each others attire at Brian Williams 80th Bday party at Abilene
I remember celebrating Brian’s 70th birthday at the Little. Maybe it was his 60th. We’ve know Brian a long time. Everybody knows Brian. He and his big bass have played with or sat in with most bands in the city. His 80th bash was hosted by Danny at Abilene. The Goners, Brian’s longest running band and the best in the city, had their gear on the stage out back and since most people there were musicians the music never stopped. The party was billed as 3-7 and the Goners never got up there until after seven.
We dropped Steve off at the airport yesterday and slept for more than ten hours last night. It was the tail end of a string of visitors and we enjoyed every bit of it. Duane was up for a wedding and we spent a few days with him without ever getting down to the pool. The weather changed when my brother and his wife drove up from NJ so we did get to spend some quality time at the pool. They let their dog out at night and then fell back asleep so we woke up early to search the neighborhood. Our niece drove up from NYC and got here hours after Steve. She slept on the couch and Steve slept in the basement. We all went out to my brother, Fran’s, house for his annual corn roast. The star of this show is his ribs but the corn, soaked in the husks in a large barrel and then roasted over a wood fire, was the best corn I have ever had in my life.
Steve was my college roommate and the best man at our wedding. Bluffed my way through high school. Could have graduated after my junior year but was having way to much fun and I was determined to apply myself as a college freshman. Steve was already a junior. He put a big homemade stereo speaker on my desk. He had a car, a white Barracuda with and 8-track player. He wrote an English paper for me (sci-fi themed of course) and I got my highest grade. My agenda went out the window. I needed a fresher course in Hoy.
This blog format suggests I assign posts to a category. I get to make up the categories. The ones I use most are “Life is a Spell,” “We Live Like Kings,” and “Field Recordings of the Future” although they are assigned arbitrarily. One category I hardly use but have for this post is “Irondequoit Melon.” Our sandy soil and temperate conditions near Lake Ontario made our area ideal for melon farming. The Irondequoit melon developed a reputation for being exceptionally sweet and fragrant. They became a regional delicacy—sold in Rochester’s public market and were shipped to nearby cities. In the late 30s the soil became infested with a fungus, fusarium wilt, and the melon seeds were retired.
Aman’s Farm Market has been selling “Irondequoit Type Melons” this season and we are working on our third one. They incredible juicy and sweet.
Before repairing a few pot holes the park maintenance people had fun with the orange spray paint. I took a series of photos there this morning. This one was my favorites.
I wish we didn’t have to come home to such terrible news. One of the first things I read was J. D,. Vance’s statement “We’re at the WH monitoring the situation in Minneapolis. Join all of us in praying for the victims!” And Kristi Noem, “I am praying for the victims of this heinous attack and their families.” I immediately hear my mom’s voice, “I wish they would stop praying and do something.” Fat chance. The guns were “perfectly legal.”
The mayor of Minneapolis issued a statement, “Don’t just say this is about thoughts and prayers right now. These kids were literally praying.” Right on, but while I respect the sentiment I can tell you those kids at Mass in the middle the day were probably not praying. Most likely they were spacing out. I went through the tenth grade in Catholic Schools. The nuns were always dropping the lesson plans and taking us over to church where someone would inevitably get sick, barf in the isles and they would sprinkle that disgusting orange stuff on the puke. We may have been looking at the statues or the Stations of the Cross or goofing around with our friends but we weren’t praying. It was just June in that state when Vance Boelter, after preaching the gospel in Africa, assassinated congresswoman Melissa Hortman.
The Annunciation Catholic church shooter apparently went to the school. The police say the shooter is transgender. The mayor said, “Anybody that is using this as an opportunity to villainize our trans community — or any other community out there — has lost their sense of common humanity.” On that I agree with the mayor.
Joe Tunis performing at Visual Studies Workshop August 23, 2025
In yesterday’s post I mentioned we had had to drop out of Matt Green’s Rochester walk in order to catch at least part of Joe Tunis’s twenty-sixth annual Day-Tour. This one consisted of 8 shows in and around Rochester where Joe performs with different musicians in each location. Peggi and caught one of his very first tours and try to catch at least one performance each year. Peggi made this video.
By chance we crossed paths with one of Joe’s earlier performances while we were on the walk withMatt Green. Joe was just finishing up at East End Green (across from Ugly Duck Coffee) when we left the Little Theatre. And then over near Grove Place we ran into James Tabbi power washing his porch.
