Coke vs. Pepsi ~ that sort of thing.
Not all observations are worth noting.
The utility elevators at the hotel we stayed in New York were being repaired so the staff was using the same elevators as the guests. Regular guests were complaining about it, otherwise we wouldn’t have noticed. I went down to the exercise room each morning and I found faster to take the stairs. I took this shot between the 7th and the 8th floor. It is similar to the photo below that I had in “Portals & Planes,” from a few years back.
It didn’t matter that it was raining and especially cold as we headed up to Chelsea. We found an oasis called Rosemary’s on Greenwich Avenue where we had smoked salmon, beet salad with pistachios and coffee. It didn’t matter that so many of the galleries in Chelsea were closed for installation of new shows. Hauser Wirth on 18th was showing “Life With P. Philip Guston : Paintings and Drawings 1964-1976.” The show was mounted in conjunction with the release of “Life With P.: Journals, 1966-1976,” poet Musa McKim Guston’s book collection of her journals.
Many of the paintings, drawings and prints are from the collection of Guston’s daughter, Musa, and many are illustrations of Musa McKim Guston’s poetry. We got real comfortable here. Five short films with Guston play in a continuous loop in a side gallery. And when you dizzy from Guston immersion the Hauser Wirth book collection merits a few hours of browsing. Rather than packing the book around town we will order online.
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Our city is a Sanctuary City. We have a city street address but we live in a town which does not have guidelines that prohibit law enforcement from assisting in ICE maneuvers. So a group of citizens has been meeting at the library and preparing to take our concerns to the town board. The board appoints the police chief, establishes their budget and is ultimately responsible for establishing police guidelines.
We were standing outside the library this morning, waiting for it to open, when we spotted these three back military vehicles. I saw someone sitting in the smaller of the three vehicles and I walked over to ask what was going on. I asked if they were part of the town police and he told me they were from the city of Rochester and they were working with the town police on some sort of operation. I was ready to push for more information but I was distracted by the assault rifle in this guy’s lap. Its trajectory, in the that casual position, would have pierced the door and entered my lower half. At that moment the tinted window in the vehicle to my right rolled down and I said hi to another armed soldier. I muttered something like, “I didn’t know the city had such serious equipment” and I walked back to our group.
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We planted a row each of lettuce, arugula, spinach and cilantro this afternoon and I got these news alerts on my watch while we were down there. I was trying to digest the first one – the Musketeer demanding the biggest firms on Wall Street to use his AI platform, one deliberately tweaked to generate racist, antisemitic and violent content. And then thinking about the war and Pete Hegseth uses biblical justifications, describing “the fight against Iran”Epic Fury” as a struggle for “Christian Nation” values. He prays for “maximum lethality” against the enemy, implying there is something like minimum lethality.
I looked up a few of Hegseth’s recent chestnuts:
“Blessed be the lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war and my fingers for battle.”
“Let every round find its mark against the enemies of righteousness and our great nation.”
“Give them…overwhelming violence of action against those who deserve no mercy.”
“Break the teeth of the ungodly.”
It seems like yesterday when W launched his “GWOT” (Global War on Terror” with “Shock and Awe.” In response I did the piece above for a Pyramid Art show. Tom Burke bought it and I had almost forgotten about it but here we go again.
Christ died for our sins or so the story goes. He died on this day, Good Friday, between noon and three o’clock. I remember sitting on our front steps with my brother and sister on day as beautiful as this one, a day off from school too, while we attempted to stay quiet for those three hours. It was my mom’s idea. We could only go so long without laughing at the situation. I don’t think we crossed the hour mark. We had already given up candy for Lent and we had just two more days before we could gorge ourselves on chocolate.
It is hard to find any humor in all this. I miss Charlie Rangle.
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This sticker has been on the unfitly box at the corner of Goodman and Ridge for so long I can’t be sure which president it was intended for. It was cold and blustery but sunny day for the No Kings Rally and the local turnout was impressive. So many smiles in such dark times. If Congress can let the president go to war without approval or even a coherent explanation this sticker will read like a foreign lanquage.
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I think we were headed up to the Portuguese restaurant, Adega on Elm Street in Toronto, when we spotted this sign. The red and yellow of the Spanish flag with a jack-like graphic in black in place of the coat of arms just screamed out to us. Too slick to be graffiti, I assumed Chaos was a club or a line of clothing but I couldn’t find anything via Google. The way the sign is framed by glue from what came before, the “ski” tag that just about matches the yellow above, even the green/blue figure interacting with the animated jack add interest. but I could quibble that the angle of the cross piece in the letter “h” doesn’t match the “c” and “a” but I like the graphic typography and word it serves is “Chaos.” The sign would work bette here in the states that it does up there.
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These two photos were taken in two different countries, both from the train as we crossed the border after spending four days in Toronto. We had cold but beautiful weather there and rain on the way back, so these pictures reflect the dreariness. The Niagara River cuts a deep gorge and natural border between the two countries, and the view from the train was dramatic.
My cousin lives about a half mile from the Amtrak station on the US side. We called her to say hello on the way over (her dad, my uncle, was the world’s biggest train enthusiast). She arranged to have coffee and sandwiches from Di Camillo’s waiting for us on the way back. There is an hour of downtime while Homeland Security does its thing, and it flew by as we got caught up.
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There is an unwritten rule in museums that says if you put a work-on-paper from your collection on display for six months you have to put it back in storage for at least five years. UV damage, fluctuations in humidity etc. We learned this little tidbit at an “Open Mic” session with Lauren Tagliaferro at the MAG of Friday. You’ll have to hurry over there to see this Robert Motherwell collage before it goes back undercover.
I played all four of our “My Funny Valentine” 45s yesterday (for my valentine.) Miles Davis, Bud Powell, Chico Hamilton and Jerry Mulligan. When I was done Peggi said, “And didn’t Chet Baker do that song?” In small print on the Mulligan record it listed Chet Baker on trumpet.
All four versions are in my Jazz45s playlists below. The song is a marvel.
He’s not funny anymore. The ones who thought he was and now feel otherwise may just be enough to turn this thing around. I do get the sense the tide is beginning to turn. Our flirtation with fascism may have run its course. The “I alone can fix it” guy has enriched himself, his family, the tech oligarchs, the oil tycoons and the Middle East Sheikhs. He is gleefully destroying the progress we were making toward generating the green energy we’ll need for all these future endeavors. Rochester is a sanctuary city so we are probably one of the next targets. I would like to help protect what is left of our democracy.
By coincidence the George Wegman painting we have hanging in our bedroom slipped down in its frame this morning. I found some linen hanging tape and hung it back in place. In George’s artist statement, on view at Richard Margolis’s space this month, George says he asked himself what it would it be like if my paintings could cry. He says he laughed tearfully and cried sadly during the project. His crying paintings are exceptionally beautiful.
There is so much to look at (and think about) in Colleen Buzzard’s studio. The walls are forever in flux with work in progress and I never fail to fixate on a jewel like the piece above.
Peter Monacelli’s fan club packed the fourth floor of the Anderson Arts building. Richard Margolis grabbed this cluster. Pete has been dealing with some health issues but he never lets that get his spirits down. His artist statement included this quote from Robert Henri.“Art is the true province of every human being. Art is simply a question of doing things, anything, well. It is not an outside extra.” Pete says, “In my artistic life I have attempted to put the thought of all that I love in all the things that i have made.”
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I love gatefold album covers especially ones that utilize the spread and span the gutter. I photographed the spreads of a few of my favoites back in 2011 and today, after listening to a Last Poets single, I went down a Mati Klarwein rabbit hole.
Klarein hung out with Jimi Hendrix and Salvador Dali. He created album covers for Carlos Santana, Buddy Miles, Jackie McLean and Earth Wind & Fire as well but the three above are gems. I noticed the initials, “BF,” on the back of Bitches Brew. I’ll have to get that back to Brad one of these days.
I love how my father left the tree he outlined in watercolor as is and then animated the figures in this painting. I was standing next to him at my easel when he painted this. We were taking a painting class at the Memorial Art Gallery and I must have seen the photo he was using as a reference, one of his own, but I didn’t study it closely. I remember thinking how innocent the protesters appeared, the so called “Raging Grannies.” But then they were free to protest in the middle of a working day. And my father, retired from Kodak, was there protesting the Bush administration. He would be filled with rage today.
I recently came across the photo my father used as a reference. And I immediately spotted Bill and Marilyn, a former classmate of mine, holding up the peace sign. They often come to Margaret Explosion shows and we sat with them at the last high school reunion. I sent them the photo and a photo of my father’s painting.
On our walk we ran into Steve Grieve at the end of Hoffman. He told us we had to go to his Facebook page to see his movie of a fox catching a squirrel, killing it by biting its neck, and then burying it. And just a few minutes later a woman stopped her car and asked me if I was the one carrying a “Trump is a Mindfuck” sign at a demonstration downtown. I said I might have been and she said she loved the sign. She introduced herself as Theresa, a new neighbor, and as she drove off she said, “Trump is a Mindfuck.”
Leave a commentBob Martin, longtime Margaret Explosion guitar player, now living in Chicago, created this video in reaction to the madness in our cities.
It has almost become a chore to get through the daily newspapers. These are dark times and getting darker. Louise comented on my last post with this thought, “It may seem hopelessly atavistic but I have come to believe that a religious view of the world has one thing right: we are in a struggle between good and evil.”
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The YouTube gods teased us with “A Producers Epiphany: Jim Dickinson on Working with the Rolling Stones, Part 1 of 2.” Dickinson is such a natural story teller we just sat back and let him describe the Stones’ songwriting process, Keith handing him the wrong chords, laying down out-of-tune tracks and then asking Dickinson to play piano on “Wild Horses” because Ian Stewart disliked minor chords. The interview reminded us that we still had not watched our last Netflix dvd. When they pulled the plug on dvds they let you keep the last one and we put ours , 2013’s “Muscle Shoals,” away without ever watching.
The first hour of the 1:42 was brilliant. The birth of the studio, the soulful country vibe, the hits they churned out for Percy Sledge and Wilson Pickett and most of all the decision by Jerry Wexler to bring Aretha Franklin, who had been recording with arrangements, charts and session musicians down south where all those magical songs were recorded. The “Queen of Soul” recording with a bunch of honkies. I have no idea why they had Bono as a talking head. That was the only not brilliant piece of the first hour. The movie takes a wrong turn just after the Stones section with Duane Allman, Leonard Skynyrd and the birth of Southern Rock.
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I’m mashing up two stories from today’s paper here. GiveSendGo, a website that says it aims to “share the Hope of Jesus through crowdfunding,” has raised $150,000 (as of this post) for the Cinnabon employee, a Saul Goodman co-worker, who let loose a racist tirade at the drive-through window. So many ugly facts to this story but the “Hope of Jesus” part got me. The same organization raised funds for Kyle Rittenhouse, Luigi Mangione and Thomas Jacob Sanford, who is suspected of killing four people and injuring eight others before setting a Michigan Mormon church ablaze.
In a front page story Cardinal Dolan announced the Archdiocese that he presides over was preparing to raise more than $300 million as compensation for survivors of sexual abuse by priests in his employ. Rochester’s bankrupt diocese, the one I grew up in, already paid $246 million to local victims. The money could never compensate victims. Church leaders covered up the crimes, shuffling the perpetrators to other districts. The very structure of the church attracts pedophiles. The optimism for Pope Francis fizzled when he never came clean on the cover-up and Pope Leo, his successor, says he has no intention to ordain women and does not anticipate changing official teaching against homosexuality.
Dolan’s statement, makes it clear where he stands in all this when he describes how the church has made a series of difficult decisions. “As we have repeatedly acknowledged, the sexual abuse of minors long ago has brought shame on our church.” (Poor guy, to have to repeatedly acknowledge it. And it wasn’t that long ago – these victims are still alive!) “I once again ask forgiveness for the failing of those who betrayed the trust placed in them by failing to provide for the safety of our young people.” Dolan looks so contrite in the photo as passes the blame.
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Just look at this place. Is that Elvis with a Santa hat on behind the drummer? It is a visual nightmare. But Annie Wells transcended all that tonight in Record Archive’s back room. Annie performed songs from her new release, “Pictures of a Heart,” with a stellar band, l. to r., Melissa Davies on cello, Mike Kaupa on trumpet and flugelhorn, Roy Marshall on drums, Dave Arenius on upright bass and Phil Marshall on guitar. Cindy Tag on soprano sax and flute and Ken Frank on electric bass also joined Annie at other points. (Three current or former members of Margaret Explosion are in that list.) The band sounded especially great on Annie’s softer songs.
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One of the rewards of getting old is that the obituaries are more interesting. So many people we grew up with are getting the back page send offs these days. Jack DeJohnette, who drove Miles’ band in the “Live Evil” stage, played with Alice Coltrane, Joe Henderson and Keith Jarrett and passed. We saw him with a trio out at Red Creek in the seventies and then in a duo setting with Bobby McFerrin at the Jazz Fest. I loved his playing.
The O’Jays’ bassist, Anthony Jackson, left us. I had never heard his name before but learned he invented the six string bass (two too many, I would say) and he was known for the iconic bass line on their song “For the Love of Money.” We have the forty-five and played the intro over and over after reading about it. Because we never watched the Apprentice we didn’t know it was the theme song. I hope Jackson lived a comfortable life with the proceeds.
We don’t get Fox so we can’t watch the Blue Jays beat LA in the World Series and none of our three La Liga teams had matches this week so by Wednesday we were jonesing for some action. We tuned into a Copa del Ray match between Real Sociedad and Negreira. Real Sociedad, from San Sebastian, is a top team in the Primera Division and Negreira is an amateur team in Spain’s sixth division. There are plenty of lopsided matches when the Copa del Rey gets going. Every team in Spain is eligable. We had walked through the village of Negreira when we did Camino de Santiago and we were in San Sebastian to see Chilida’s museum. Most of Negreira’s players had worked regular jobs that day and they were expected to peter out fast but despite the 3-0 scoreline they gave the pros a real run for their money.
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Like one half of the city, we went to another “No Kings” rally yesterday, this one along the river downtown. It was a beautiful day to be out but there were so many issues to address. In 1969 it was just one. It can overwhelm you and make you feel like we have not made any progress. The anti-progressive movement is formidable. Despite the overwhelming number of issues, most people seemed to be having a good time.
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.
I stole this card off the 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.
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