We picked our last batch of pimientos de Padrón in Wednesday’s record-breaking warmth. And we spent the best part of the last couple of days raking leaves. We were watching Barcelona play Aston Villa in the Champions League last night when Peggi felt a tick on her back. I pulled it out with tweezers, but it had a hold. She called our doctor, and he prescribed antibiotics.
This Blue Wave feels like recursive self-improvement. The same voters who put the big guy in charge for two terms used their own capabilities to design, optimize, and build a more capable successor version of themselves, creating a feedback loop of compounding improvements.
I had to use the pano lens to get all these signs in. There are some good ones, just in time for the midterms.
We had two trick-or-treaters last night. Two more than average. One of the kids had an inflated suit on. We couldn’t tell what he was dressed as but he looked hysterical. He had a hard time putting his hand in the bowl of candy we had so his sister helped him. And we couldn’t help but notice she gave him less than she took.
It’s just after 3pm on a Sunday so we’re listening to Kyle’s “Up on the Roof” show on WAYO as I write this. He’s playing Link Wray’s 1954 recording of Comanche, the blueprint for the Cramp’s entire catalog in one song.
House sign in courtyard of Alcoa house in Rochester
I spent some time at our host’s site before the party at his home, but it did not prepare me for his collection of work by internationally famous artists. Built in 1957, the house is already on the National Register of Historic Places. Just doesn’t seem possible for something younger than us. The Hollywood-style home is one of 24 experimental “Care-free Homes” built nationwide by Alcoa to showcase aluminum in residential architecture.
This sign, in one of the courtyards, caught my eye. I got my camera out to photograph it, and Scott McCarney told me the story. Nigel was working at UR when the university bought the property at the corner of Elmwood Avenue to begin construction of what became College Town. And on the southwest corner was the former Towne House Motel. I went to an Inter-Sorority Ball with Laurice Densmore that was celebrated in the ballroom of that place.
Cast party for high school play at my house. Laurice Densmore upper left, Dennis Pavone, Rick Bundi, Shirley Zimmer and Irene Palermo 1967. Photo by Leo Dodd.
I can’t remember what the logo above was printed on. I labeled my photo “RochesterLogoAtBeach.” We see the blue “Billieve” banners everywhere, but I had never seen this one. The Rochester logo, or more accurately, mark, was designed fifty years ago by Lee Green, the city’s first full-time graphic designer.
“City Mark: A Rochester Icon” had a week-long run at the Little and aired last week on WXXI TV. It is available to stream now on the PBS app. I highly recommend it. Not only is it interesting as a design exercise, it explores how the logo, over time, became a symbol of pride in the city.
Aaron Costa, owner of skateboard company KrudCo, has a segment in the movie where he talks about using the city logo on skateboards and getting a Cease and Desist letter from the City. That hit home for us. Peggi and I managed The Refrigerator when the zine went digital, and somewhere around 2000 we used the logo in a section called “Rochester Beat.”
We received this letter by email:
Subject: Use of City Logo on your website Hi, that’s our city logo on your website. Please give me a call so we can talk about it. Thanks. Ted Capuano, Assistant to the Director, Bureau of Communications, City of Rochester, New York
We blew it off and then got another email.
Subject: “Rochester Beat.” Dear Refrigerator, Subject: Re: Registered Rochester City mark on website. Hi, This is the second time I’ve emailed you about the use of the City’s mark on refrigerator.net. Please take down the City mark from your website. If you’d like to discuss this, please feel free to contact me. Thanks, Ted
I did not want to discuss it, so I took it down and put up a close-up photo of the City logo on our green trash container.
Today the City is much freer in its usage policy, and the logo can be found everywhere you look, on city infrastructure, clothing, jewelry and thousands of tattoos (like the one on our nephew’s index finger.
The logo was first used around the time we moved here (moved back here for me) and at a time when the big industries were leaving the city. There were people back then who continually complained about the city. All I could think was, “Then get the hell out.” The second half of this movie makes clear how those who live here now have an overwhelming sense of pride in the city.
The minimalist design looked rather corporate back in the day. Fifty years later I appreciate how it combines the water wheel for the “Flour City” and the five-petaled flower for the “Flower City.” And that Believe graphic in my photo above looks pretty damn good.
A couple of weeks ago I shared a photo of a political sign on our street. On the next street over there are a few outspoken neighbors. This van was parked out front of the house across the street from the one with all the Lake Ontario signs and Canadian flags. I’m happy to report we have been up to the lake a few times since the name change, and it doesn’t look any different.
Scott and Margaret invited us to their annual Oktoberfest party. Scott was boiling round German pretzels in a big pot when we got there, and he was drinking a Labatt Blue. We mingled with our tiny plastic beer mugs, stopping at the four tasting stations to sample ten of twenty-eight seasonal offerings.
Although Scott told us no one was keeping score, we kept track of what we liked on scorecards that Margaret had printed out. Our favorites were an Ayinger, the local offering from Rohrbach, the Sierra Nevada, something from Tree House, and our favorite, the Ommegang.
I used to think living on a dead-end street would be boring, you know, like the Kinks song. There is hardly any traffic other than from people who live on the street, and we know most of them well. So I’m not sure where this person is going with these signs at this late date (there is another just like this one on the section of fence that goes back toward the house).
We walked by as the owner was unfurling a banner. Thinking it might be for a party or something, Peggi asked her, “What does the sign say?” The owner answered, “Trump 2028.” Thinking, you know, about the 22nd Amendment and the Constitution, I said, “Good luck with that.” The owner responded, “Asshole. When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
We’ve never had any indication that this person had any political leanings. And this sign, the day after Trump renamed our lake, has me rattled. We were telling our friend Rich about it, and he said he thinks we have crossed over from nonfiction and are now living in fiction.
In his Substack post this morning our friend Martin took it to the next level. “Pretending humanity does not face an existential threat when faced daily with deadly evidence may be the single worst effect of Donald Trump’s reign. . . in the long run. The planet will be just fine. Why? Because as a system it is naturally self-righting and balanced. Eliminate the cancer, us, and nature will bounce back, fast.”
Two bikes at east end of Sixth Street Beach Haven NJ
The population of LBI swells from 10,000 to 200,000 at the peak of the season. There are at least ten miniature golf courses here and certainly no room for a full size one. It is a barrier island so there are very few trees. Storms like Sandy rearrange the shoreline, swamp the funky, low-lying, one story homes and new ordinances force the rebuilds to go up on stilts. Contractors then take the opportunity to add another story and a rooftop deck so the growth is vertical.
Small planes fly up and down the island dragging banners for accident lawyers. Dolphins, just beyond the swimmers, jump entirely out of the water just to entertain us. The ocean felt so good I didn’t want to wash it off. We split our time between reading and watching the little kids play on the beach.
This could be the same blue heron that terrorized the fish in our neighbors pond this spring. We spotted him yesterday in Durand Lake, acting like he owns the place. Every time we came upon a turtle, sunning themselves on a log, they would jump in the water before I could get my camera out of my pocket but this guy was proudly posing for us.
Margaret Explosion plays Thursday at the Little Theatre Café. It promises to be a fun summer show. Arpad is finishing the mastering on our new cd. Hope to have that available by our next gig.
Graffiti cover-up paint on wall under Expressway on East Ridge Road
Every few weeks we pick up a package of postcards at Deb’s house. The cards have generic “vote” graphics on the front. The most recent bunch had the four letters arranged like Robert Indiana’s LOVE sculpture. There is a sheet of stamps in the package and a list of registered voters somewhere in the country, places where an election or primary is on the horizon. This last package was targeted to residents of Anchorage, Alaska, and we were told to get them in the mail by August 3.
The Activate America logo is in the upper left-hand corner of the list of addresses, and on the other side they have a brief message they would like us to print—not handwrite—something simple like, “Are you tired of prices going up while the wealthy get tax breaks?” Then we let them know when the primary or election is and give them a web address where they can get more information. In this case it was elections.alaska.gov..
It is extremely tempting to improvise and write exactly what I think, but I hold back and add only small personal touches of emphasis.
A couple of times we have left our car in Aman’s parking lot and walked under the expressway, then down Bay View along the bay and up the hill to Deb’s house. Both times we found new works to photograph on the walls under the bridges. I’ve collected these photos on this new Public Works page.
My sister-in-law teaches design classes at RIT. I recently sent her a birthday greeting and suggested she get her class to work on a new logo for the USPS. Sometime in the nineties the Post Office hired Young & Rubicam to design a logo to replace Raymond Loewy’s iconic 1970 design. We’ve been living with that abomination long enough!
A page from therefrigerator.net circa 2000, from the internet archive
We watched as the Post Office replaced the old logos on the boxes near our house in the city, and we couldn’t help but notice they skipped a few. We started rounding up photos of the old logo, and we posted them on therefrigerator.net. That website is long gone, but I had ChatGPT track down the page in the Internet Archive.
AI-generated, upscaled photo of mailboxes in Brighton in the 90s
I found this tiny digital photo of mailboxes on Monroe Avenue, at what used to be called Brighton Commons, on a web page that led to the one above. I upscaled the photo in Photoshop and had AI generate the top and bottom portions. I’m really happy with how it came out. This AI thing has some potential. And I like the logos AI generated better than Young & Rubicam’s.
My favorite image of Saint James is this dreamy Baroque oil by Guido Reni from 1636. Rich recently sent us a deck of Patron Saints cards. Saint James wasn’t in the deck, but Kateri, the first Native American saint, and Mother Teresa, two of the newest saints, had their own cards.
Today is the feast day of Saint James. My cousin Maureen says she is celebrating with fish tacos. Known as Santiago in Spain and São Tiago in Portugal, he is the patron saint of both countries. He is also known as Matamoros (Moor-Slayer) because he miraculously appeared riding a white horse to help Christian armies defeat the Muslim Moors at the mythical Battle of Clavijo.
The city of Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain is a centuries-old pilgrimage destination. We walked there twice, once from the Pyrenees in France (with Maureen) and once from Porto in Portugal. Could we still do it? I like to think so.
I picked up these Saint James holy cards along the way. As you can see, he is shown as both benevolent and vicious. And his horse isn’t always white. This helps explain why so many people consider themselves Catholic. It’s pretty easy to bend the rules when they’re not much more than myths. Al Pacino’s show-stopping scene in Julian Schnabel’s Dante movie is a beautiful case in point.
Here's the version for true believers: Saint James (the Greater) was one of Christ's twelve apostles named James. King Herod Agrippa executed Saint James by beheading in Jerusalem around AD 44. James's disciples, Athanasius and Theodore, placed his body into a stone boat. (A stone boat!) The crewless, rudderless vessel was guided by angels across the Mediterranean Sea. The boat landed on the Atlantic coast of Galicia at Iria Flavia (now Padrón, where pimientos de Padrón originated). Queen Lupa, a local pagan ruler, tried to thwart the burial by giving the disciples wild bulls to pull the cart carrying his body. The wild beasts miraculously became tame, converting the queen to Christianity. The tamed oxen pulled the wagon inland until they stopped at Libredón, the current site of the cathedral. The tomb remained forgotten for nearly 800 years during Roman and Visigothic rule. In 813, a hermit named Pelagius followed a shower of guiding stars—or bright lights—to a field. Pelagius found the hidden tomb, and Bishop Teodemir confirmed the bones belonged to Saint James. The area was named Campus Stellae ("Field of Stars"), which evolved into the word Compostela. In 844, an intervention reportedly occurred during the mythical Battle of Clavijo. King Ramiro I of Asturias led Christian troops against the superior forces of the Emirate of Córdoba. The night before the battle, Saint James appeared to King Ramiro in a dream, promising victory. The next day, the saint charged into battle on a magnificent white horse, carrying a white banner and a flashing sword. Inspired by the apparition, the Christian army rallied and defeated the Moorish forces. King Alfonso II of Asturias declared Saint James the patron saint of his kingdom and ordered the first church built over the tomb. Inspired by the apparition, the Christian army rallied and defeated the Moorish forces. King Alfonso II of Asturias declared Saint James the patron saint of his kingdom and ordered the first church built over the tomb.
The modern giants of sculpture are mostly all represented at Storm King (I couldn’t find Chilida’s name on the list) and the 500 acres of rolling hills along the Hudson is their giant playground. We walked seven and a half miles ( sometimes in circles) and we didn’t see it all but we made sure we found Sol Lewitt, Henry Moore and David Smith. You couldn’t miss Alexander Calder and it was majestic. We loved David Von Schlegell’s three floating, aluminum, tubular squares and we spent some time studying it from various vantage points.
Richard Serra “Schunnemunk Fork” at Storm King Art Center
I first became aware of Richard Serra when his “Tilted Arc” met with all that controversy. I have followed him since and I love his heroic slabs of steel but also his graphic work. The four slabs he installed here, spread over ten acres, each emerge from the hillside, a wondrous collaboration between god and man.
Alyson Shotz “Mirror Fence” at Storm King Art Center
Alyson Shotz’s “Mirror Fence” is such a simple concept, a picket fence covered in mirrors, 138 feet long in aperfectly straight row, keeping nothing in or out but reflecting its surroundings. You have to look to even see it.
Alfred Hrdlicka “Golgotha” (1963) at Storm King Art Center
Alfred Hrdlicka’s “Golgotha” (1963), named after the site of the crucifixion, is startling in this setting. So human, no steel girders involved, it would be at home in the first century Roman and Greek sculpture wing of the Metropolitan. I really loved this one as it seemed to bring everything back to earth.
Ellsworth Kelly “Untitled, 1982” (a stainless-steel “totem” piece) at Storm King Art Center
Ellsworth Kelly has a way of clearing the air. His work is so clean, so essential, so right on. There is nothing more to say. Here it is.
We were living in an apartment on Dartmouth Street, in a house that Tim Schapp owned, when we decided to get married. Peggi bought a dress from a small shop on Monroe Avenue and I had a suit made by the Turkish tailor who had a shop on St. Paul in the building where New Math practiced.
We rented the non denominational chapel at Colgate, across from Highland Park and a friend of my parents, Jim Hughes, officiated. My brother Fran played some Weather Report tracks on a turntable. My sister, Amy, carried some flowers up the aisle and my brother, Mark, took photos.
Joe Barrett was performing in a play that day at UR Summer Theatre so he couldn’t make it but John Gilmore and Brad Fox, longtime Rochester buddies, were there. We were so happy that so many of our friends from Indiana, where we had gone to school, were able to celebrate with us. Rich, Kim and Dave, Norm and Pam. Steve Hoy was our best man and Peggi’s sister was the maid of honor. Three of Peggi’s girlfriends came from Detroit. We had about ten people sleeping in our apartment that weekend.
My sister, Ann and three of my brothers, John, Tim and Fran took us out to dinner on Sunday and I learned one of them met a foreign exchange student who was working as an au pair for a couple at our wedding. He followed her half way around the world like the Wreckless Eric song.
Steve Hoy cracking me up at the front tableMy mother laughing at our wedding reception
Peggi’s parents, my parents, our weddingDave and Bob Mahoney
Steve ogling Peggi’s girlfriend SallyMark, Pam, Norm and Kim
Margaret Explosion poster for Skylark Lounge July 15 7PM
I’m a little worried this might be too much—spinning records before and after a set with the band. The initial idea, a set of jazz 45s followed by the band and then a set of party 45s, seemed more interesting than playing two sets, so we booked it.
Pulling records for the two sets got a little crazy. I could have easily fit many of the records into either set, so I kept confusing myself about which one I was building. Jimmy Smith’s “Midnight Special” is party jazz. I’m starting the second set with it.
I think this gig will feature the whole band. And because Skylark is a nightclub, we’ll play through the sound system, which means Ken will bring his electric bass and the rest of us will go through the PA.
Jack made it to the Jazz Fest gig, but he was unable to make the last two Little Theatre gigs. Those two nights—with sax, cello, bass, and drums (and no bass clarinet or guitar)—were like night and day. The first took us into messy territory with no subject, just vamps with no body. The second took its time and eased into things that allowed a melody to come to the fore. Peggi can always do that if she has the room.
Because we don’t rehearse and we don’t have any songs, all we can do is talk about it. That, and relax and stay open.
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.
“Lightbulb” Giclée print from “Portals & Planes: Pictures by Paul Dodd” Leave a comment
Philip Guston “Blue Cover” 1977 at Hauser Wirth Chelsea
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.
Philip Guston 8 small panels 1977 at Hauser Wirth Chelsea
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.
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.
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.”
“Atomic Jihad,” digital collage, glassine print by Paul Dodd, 40″w x 30″h 2002
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.
Impeach sticker on utility box at the corner of Goodman and East Ridge
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.
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.
