Yellow paint on trees near ponds in Durand Eastman Park.
I like graffiti but it certainly has it limits and that’s why they call it graffiti. Some idiot has marked a well traveled path around the ponds and through the park with these yellow markings. The yellow looks like Rust-oleum’s “Sunburst Yellow” and the little rectangles are sort of intriguing. Small touches of color take on monumental proportions in the grey/brown landscape. But this group marked the trail over and over again on straight-aways where there could be no confusion as to which way to go. All this so a bunch of idiots can follow each other through the park in some sort of race on paths that others take every day? Grrrr.
I know County Executive Maggie Brooks has her hands full reigning in the free spending, cigar smoking, strip club going public works employees but I bet somebody knows who did this. We could make a citizen’s arrest.
Chief Projectionist at the Dryden Theater of the George Eastman House in Rochester, New York
Jim Heally is a fountain of film knowledge and a great interviewer. He held his own with some of Hollywood’s biggest stars and I’m sorry he left the Eastman House. I trust he is on to greener pastures. Last night was Members Night (free admission) and the last night of the Dydren’s Rock ‘n Roll series. They showed a beautiful print with a newly re-mastered soundtrack of “The Last Waltz” and Kyle Westphal, Chief Projectionist, did a great job of introducing the movie. I think they have found a worthy replacement over there as Kyle delivered the goods without notes, sometimes with his eyes closed like a improvising musician.
The Last Waltz has aged well. In fact the further down the road we get from it’s making the better this thing looks but then The Band always seemed a band out of time. That Big Pink album knocked me out when it came out. Garth Hudson’s organ on “Chest Fever”, Richard Manual’s take on “Long Black Veil”, Levon Helm’s sensational drumming and singing on “The Weight”. It was impossible to pick a favorite song (or a favorite vocalist) on that lp just like it is in the movie.
Dylan pulls the plug on “Forever Young”, just to show his old back up band who the boss is. Joni Mitchell sings otherworldly back up to Neil Young on the Band’s version of “Helpless”. And then Joni with her beautiful buck teeth belting out “Coyote.” Van Morrison kicking out the jams, a sincere, often funny performance. Dr. John gets down in a hurry with wicked version of “Such a Night.” Muddy Waters does a killer performance of “I’m A Man.” Like Buddy Guy in Scorcese’s “Shine A Light”, Muddy Waters made The Band look like toy musicians. These performances are so good you want to holler and clap at the end like you would at a concert. My favorite song in the movie was “The Weight” with the Staple Singers but I could easily be swayed.
The George Eastman House has a world famous collection of films in their vaults and they screened a rare print of Joe Boyd’s 1973 film “Jimi Hendrix” last night. Made just three years after Hendrix’s death there wasn’t time for revisionist history and the interviews with Pete Townshend and Eric Clapton still show signs of jealousy. Lou Reed pretty much gives it up for Jimi, about as much as he can. And in the film Jimi gives it up for Bob Dylan with an incredible performance of of “Like A Rollin Stone.”
I left Woodstock before Hendrix performed because Dave thought we were going to starve and I’ll never let him forget that decision even though he is dead. I did get to see Hendrix in Indianapolis in 1969 with Dave’s ex, Kim. I sort of remember losing my brown shoes in a cemetery before the show. And what I mostly remember from the show is Hendrix flipping the bird to the fat cops who stood with their arms crossed in front of the stage.
There is some jaw dropping performances in the film like 1967’s black and white performance of “Purple Haze” at London’s Marque Club and Jimi in a TV studio playing 12 string against a white seamless backdrop. You can see why there hasn’t been another Hendrix movie since. They could never outdo the real thing and this is as close as it gets. I was transfixed by Jimi’s longtime girlfriend, Fayne Pridgon. She has a major role in this film and she was so engaging I came home and googled her but didn’t come up with much. Guess I’ll have to rent the dvd for more.
Peggi’s almost done with Keith Richards’ book and then I’ll set down my Guston book to dive in. There is only one more film left in the Eastman’s “Rock n’ Roll” series, next Wednesday’s showing of the “The Last Waltz.”
Can’t remember how I first came across Milton Rogovin’s Buffalo photos. They really hit home with me and I painted a picture of Rogovin and his wife, Anne, in 2003. The Pyramid Art Gallery hosted a traveling show of his work around that time and I met him there and gave him a print of my painting. His wife had just died at that point and now Milton is dead at 101. There’s a nice slideshow of his photos on the Times’ site.
We took Sam Jones out to the Apple Store on Saturday before Steve Jobs announced his decision to step down for a bit. Sam was wearing his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt and his Buffalo Bills jacket. His iPad kept trying to restart while he was using it. The store was mobbed and we waited in line to make an appointment with a genius. Sam gave the woman in a blue shirt his email address and about five minutes later a friendly guy in a blue shirt came over to help us. He scrolled through Sam’s ten pages of game app icons and said, “This looks like it’s been dropped.” Sam said, “Oh yeah. I’ve dropped it a bunch of times.” I cringed but the Apple guy smiled and said. “Breakage isn’t covered in your warranty but I’ll see what I can do.” Sam walked out with a new iPad.
I’m definitely a long time Apple fanboy. When my father bought his Mac II in the late eighties we used to go over there to set type and we eventually bought our own Mac II. We’ve probably had one of almost every model they’ve made since. Well I guess we never had a “toilet seat” and we don’t have an Airbook and we don’t have an iPhone but I wouldn’t leave home without my iTouch. Just by looking at Steve Jobs I would say he has a lot to do with their elegantly designed products. I don’t get that confident feeling by looking at the other execs. I hope he gets well soon.
Nod doesn’t play out that often and I was bummed that we missed them on Saturday at Abilene.
There was an article in National Geographic about wolves mating with dogs and coyotes but it didn’t mention foxes. One of our neighbors took these shots with a surveillance camera he set up in the woods behind his house. I guess the camera takes a shot even in low light when it senses movement. There has been some debate as to whether this is a fox or a coyote. I did an Google image search for “fox” and this guy doesn’t look as good as any of them. Try it for yourself – “fox”. I’m going with coyote.
I’ve continued to adjust the sound of my tubs while they’re home for a few weeks. Tuning and dampening and listening. After all these years I’ve discovered that drums sound best at their lowest (loosest drum skin tension) position just before pitch falls apart. That is as low as you can go without the heads flopping about or having rattling unpleasantries attach themselves to the the way the drum rings when you strike it. There is a sweet spot right there and the drum rings with its fullest potential. You can imagine how big the drum is by the sound of it. You can just picture it. If you find that position on all the drums in your set they will undoubtedly be in tune with each other.
I play a Chinese kit made by Mapex with a snare, a 14 inch floor tom and a twenty inch kick. I hate their logo. Wrong font for the awkward space between the “A” and the “P.” When I bought the set I said I’ll take that maple set over their but put a different head on the front of the bass drum, one without that logo.”
Instead of walking in the woods today we walked up to Wegmans and trudged home with some heavy items. Flour, a half gallon of milk, grapefruit, yogurt, corn meal and an extra quart of milk to replace what we borrowed from Rick and Monica this morning in order to make make blueberry pancakes. I stopped to take this dumb picture of a hand made sign and a guy came out waving his arms and shouting “Can I help you?”. I said no and he raised his voice a few notches. “Can I help you?”. I yelled, “No”. I was already thinking this sign isn’t good enough for my sign collection but I took the shot anyway just to to piss the guy off.
I had six cans in my arms already when I spotted these. The Budweiser man has struck again. I say “man” but who knows. We speculate endlessly about whether this is the work of a kid. It can’t be. No kid would continue doing this for three years! It must be an adult and it must be a man. A lady wouldn’t buy a 24 ounce can of Bud, would she? And are these cans thrown here from a moving car? Tossed across a lane from the driver’s side. I doubt it. They are always in the same spot. He would have to be too good a shot. Who would walk this far down a nearly deserted dead end street? We usually come to the same conclusive guess. It must be one of the neighbors. “Honey I’m going out to walk the dog.” Someone who is already in the doghouse for their drinking!
This tree on Culver Road in front of the Church of the Transfiguration is older than the United States. It has it’s own plaque. And it reminds me that a lot of what I like about this place was here before the Revolutionary War.
We had dinner across the street last night and I started a dissing Christmas. We’ve only been celebrating this holiday for a hundred years or so. Why can’t we stop? Christ wasn’t born on Christmas. (Rick looked it up. He was born in September or July according to two different sources.) Jesus was Jew. He wasn’t a Christian! The Catholics gloomed on to the Solstice and picked the date for Christ’s birth just like they lifted lifted all their mysteries and miracles from pagan myths. Etc. I was just trying to liven up the conversation. I do like the holiday lights.
I only have one tom in my set and I haven’t liked the way this floor tom has sounded for a long time. I tuned it higher the other night and it sounded better but too loud. This afternoon I took the dampening ring that has been on my snare and tossed it on the tom. It sounds just amazing, almost melodic. And the snare sounds better without the ring. The tom is about to become a big part of my sound.
Frozen wetlands off Hoffman Road in Rochester, New York
The Eastman House put up a mint copy of the 1974 political thriller “The Parallax View” with Warren Beatty last night. And it was free for members. Peggi and I both thought we had seen it back in the day but we hadn’t. We would have remembered the spectacular shots. Same cinematographer as the Godfather movies and it really looked good on the big screen, so good I was laughing at inappropriate times. The plot was delicious too. Just like the Warren Commission got to the bottom of the JFK assassination and George W.’s plan to hire Henry Kissinger to get to the bottom of the World Trade Center bombings we never really know who’s calling the shots but there is probably a multinational corporation behind it.
Graham Nash curated the Rock n’ Roll photography exhibit at the Eastman House and we’ve been trying to get there for a month or so. I’m hoping Anton Corbijn’s Beefheart portrait is in the show.
Don Van Vilet was a rock n’ roller and real painter. He told The Associated Press in 1991. “I don’t like getting out when I could be painting. And when I’m painting, I don’t want anybody else around.”
Empty stage at Tala Vera restaurant on State Street in Rochester, New York
The surge of rush hour traffic is still outbound when the work day ends in Rochester. Empty lofts are being converted and empty nesters are coming back but most of downtown is still pretty much a ghost town at night. Less a ghost town than it was in the Scorgie’s days but still pretty hostile. State Street near the old four corners is particularly forlorn so the new Tala Vera California style Mexican restaurant/bar/nightclub is almost like a mirage.
We were there kind of late on Saturday night and there was only one other couple in the dining room. The place looks beautiful and the empty stage looked inviting. There is a sound system in place, a piano and oriental rug on the stage and a drum set in the corner. The new restaurant lets you bring in your own wine with no corkage fee until January one so we brought a bottle of Spanish red and our jalapeño appetizer was so hot we drank it fast. Their tortilla soup was delicious as were the dishes we split.
A laptop on the other side of the room was playing the kind of guitar driven, tight snare jazz that drives us crazy so when the other couple left we asked the the owner if we could plug our ipod in. We had just been listening to a Margaret Explosion gig from a few weeks ago and we picked up right where we left off in the car. It was just like being at home in a five star restaurant. We had two Christmas shows to go to and I wished the owner good luck on the way out. I do hope he can bring people downtown to his cool spot.
Watkins & the Rapiers were in full Xmas drag when we showed up at the Tango Café and the place was packed. The band took a break while Scott, accompanied by Steve Piper on guitar, did a beautiful song of his called “Stars at Christmas”. His lyric, “Walk down each street as if it’s yours,” is one hell of an image.
The Christmas season wouldn’t be right without Bob Henrie and Goners take on the season. So we packed up and squeezed in to Abilene for their rockin’ last set. Bob Cooper was sitting in with the band on piano. Peggi bought her red Farfisa from him about thirty years ago.
Peggi plays Farfisa organ on this Hi-Techs chestnut, “Screamin’ You Head.”
The third dvd of “Breaking Bad” arrived in mail today with only one episode. Guess there was a writer’s strike going on back then. We toyed with watching it right away and getting it back the same day’s mail but work got in the way.
Work seems to be getting in the way of NYC trip too. We were planning to take the train down, visit our nephew who’s going to Columbia Law School and then stay with our friend, Duane, in Brooklyn. I called Duane today to tell him it was looking like weren’t going to be able to get away for a few weeks because of work. Ugg.
I had already planned a few art stops. Lynette Yiadom-Boakye has show up in Harlem at the Studio Museum near where our nephew lives. She does portraits of fiction characters and I love the way she paints. Another great paint handler, Luc Tuymans, who just had a retrospective at SFMoMA, has a show of recent paintings at the David Zwirner Gallery in Chelsea and of course once you get down there there is no holding back with the art onslaught.
We’ve been following the “Steve Martin art lecture at the Y” story and read Steve’s letter to the editor in last Sunday’s paper and I was excited to hear Colbert had Steve Martin on his show last night. I might have to buy his book.
John Gilmore insisted we put this cable tv show called “Breaking Bad” in our Netflix queue. In fact he asked for our password and he added the movie himself. We spotted it in there and bumped it down a few times (I didn’t like the name of it) but it eventually worked its way to the top when we weren’t looking and then showed up in our mailbox.
We really love it. It’s over the top and believable at the same time without getting into reality tv territory. We watched the first three episodes in a flash and while we were waiting for the next disc to arrive our neighbors brought over a movie called “Leaves of Grass” with Susan Sarandon and Richard Dreyfuss. It was a similar topic. We watched the movie together and I was obnoxious throughout because I couldn’t believe how pale this thing was stacked up to “Breaking Bad.”
We don’t have cable tv so we have a lot of catching up to do and there is nothing but “Breaking Bad” in our Netflix queue now.
Yellow cherries in the woods with snow, Rochester, New York
I don’t remember this yellow cherry tree from last year. It’s the first thing we saw today as we entered the woods. The skiing was excellent as long as we didn’t stand still. The ground is not quite frozen yet so the snow is sticky down there.
People were talking about sixteen inches but that doesn’t seen possible. We have about five out there now and I just checked the weather – “Occasional lake effect snow showers. Additional accumulation 3 to 5 inches in the most persistent snows…greatest near Lake Ontario and in the eastern suburbs. Lows in the lower 20s. Northwest winds 15 to 25 mph becoming west. Gusts up to 30 mph. Chance of snow near 100 percent.” Didn’t keep Peggi from going to her yoga class.
Did anybody see that article about the State of Kentucky using economic development funds to build a replica of Noah’s ark. It’s kinda down there near the Creation Museum. Separation of church and state issues make it sort of controversial. They’re talking about rebuilding the Tower of Babel down there. I’d like to be there when they speak in tongues. Or how about that article about the neo nazi’s lawyer who has hired a make up artist at $125 a day to cover up his defendant’s tattoos during his capitol punishment trial. “Could be distracting or prejudicial to the jurors.” Is there such a thing as a fair trial? My friend Rich sorts a lot of these issues out for me.
“From a Series of Narrow Escapes . . .” by Alice de Mauriac at the Rochester Contemporary 2010 Members Show
What a beautiful painting this is (the painting not my snapshot)! Like the E string on a double bass playing a particularly, seductive note or the air that is being misplaced by it. It’s my favorite piece in the new Rochester Contemporary Members Show.
Skateboarder memorial on Norton Street in Rochester, NY
I’m quite sure I saw Akeer Matthews many times as we travelled up and down Culver Road. He was hit by a car a few months back right across the street from Case’s Garden Store where we buy our plants in the Spring. I know I would have been a skateboarder if that subculture was around when I was young so I always take note of them in a crowd.
Margaret Explosion played at the annual dinner/auction/benefit for Rochester Roots last night. Certainly a worthwhile effort, to get city youth to eat right, green and local when possible, it was none the less a rather sad affair. We played up on a small stage in an old auditorium in the Downtown Presbyterian Church and the sound was great. We tried our best to stay in the background (so much so that a woman started an announcement as we were starting a song) while mostly older, progressive types bid on bath soaps and local wine. Bob and Ken left after we finished playing but Peggi and I stayed around for the dinner. It was delicious and entirely locally grown. I guess what makes it sad is that a program as obviously right on as this one must depend on volunteers to support it. That and the PowerPoint presentation after dinner.
Painting class ended for the year, just in time to do some more painting. During the last class (i.e. “therapy session”) I overheard Fred explaining another one of painting’s conundrums to a fellow student. Tony was working on a big abstract, one with what he calls “pours” of pigment and medium, and he had a nice section at the bottom of his painting that I had complimented him on earlier in the evening. I was only listening as I worked on my own set of problems but I know Fred was covering up that section on Tony’s painting when he launched into a familiar rap.
“The minute something becomes precious, it is a liability. You’re going to dance around it, trying to protect it at the expense of your painting.”
These universal guides, always address the worst first, if the question comes up the answer is yes, get to the point and then shut up, work for the other abstract painters in the class. They work for the women who paints animals, the guy who does Maine landscapes, my father’s whimsical watercolors and my crime face paintings. The guides, of course, are bigger than painting and that’s why they are universal.
Old farm land off Westfall Road in Rochester, New York
Yesterday, I took a trip back in time with my father. He had asked for some help with a dig he was doing at the old farm property on Westfall Road which the town of Brighton has recently purchased. The town burnt the old farm house in a fire department exercise and then bulldozed the charred remains into the earth and then they stuck a sign in the ground that reads “Archeologic Dig”. My father pointed out that it was misspelled but I didn’t notice. He has uncovered an old well and a brick path that runs between it and the house. I tried to lift some big pieces of concrete out of the old well without falling in. My father is using Google SketchUp and old photos to reconstruct the property as was in the early 1800’s.
Instead of walking in the woods today we headed over to “Simply New York”, the new store on Culver Road up near the lake. We saw an albino squirrel on the way. Everything in the store is made in New York. I looked at a t-shirt that read “If you’re lucky enough to live in Sea Breeze, you’re lucky enough.” We bought a jig saw puzzle made in Buffalo, some pepper pasta made in Watertown and some shoes made in Batavia. I wore the shoes home in the rain and my feet stayed dry. I told the owner I was going to bring them back if my feet got wet. He gave us some Hedonist sesame chocolate (made in Rochester) for the walk home.
Everything is going brown and then grey but the the subtly of those browns and greys is astounding. The deer know this. We’re just figuring it out. Click photo to enlarge.
When Jim Mott was staying with us last Spring he mentioned that his wife, Sonja, had just released a new book about growing up in Rochester, New York. I ordered it from Amazon while we stood there. Jim said we could meet Sonja the next week at an art opening at the Oxford Gallery where he had would be showing some paintings. We went to the opening but we had the wrong night so we never connected.
Leighton Avenue, Bowman Street, Grand Avenue, Lamont Place and two locations on East Main near Culver. I know every one of the streets that Sonja Livingston mentions in “Ghostbread”. My parents lived upstairs in an apartment on Alexander and Main when I was born. We were right around the corner from Corpus Christi where Sonja spends so much time. I was baptized there. My family moved east of Culver to Brookfield and we lived there for ten years, right across from the Kirby Vacuum Center that Sonja talks about in her opening pages. Later, Peggi and I lived across from East High for twenty six years. We were only a few blocks away from most of what happens in this gorgeous memoir but we were a world away as well. Like Sonja I played Mass with my siblings but my six siblings all had the same father and he lived with us and provided for and nurtured us. The extreme differences in her circumstances in such close proximity is only part of what makes this book so engrossing.
Sonja’s chapters are short, sometimes only a page but they are so efficiently packed and carefully crafted they knock me out. Some nights I found I could read only a few chapters before wanting to set the book down, close my eyes and savor the exquisite setting. I suggested my mom bring this book to the next meeting of her book club.
