Psychedelic George at Skylark in Rochester, New York
Was Frank DeBlase really born on Christmas day or is that something the writer/photographer made up? To ease the confusion his Australian girlfriend arranged a birthday party at Skylark Lounge on Boxing Day. Skylark is an Ed Repard museum and the bartender looked like a cross between Hermie and Casey. Even “Psychedelic George,” who used to come see the band but is someone we thought disappeared some thirty years ago was there. It was a joy to watch Frank hold court like American royalty.
This sign is one of the reasons I keep getting further behind with my signs to post.
When you’ve been to Home Depot and Lowe’s in the same day you know you are in the throes of a home remodeling project. We were looking for what turns out to be an slightly unusual product, ceiling tiles that didn’t call attention to themselves. The ceiling in our basement is not that high, nothing like the twelve foot ceilings in the Bevier Building downtown that is currently being rehabbed, so we don’t want to draw the eye to that feature. Plain white with a simple non-directional texture would be ideal but they are so yesterday.
The key feature of dropped ceiling panels today is “tegular.” Spell check hasn’t even caught up with it. These tiles are 2 feet by 2 feet, not 2 by 4 like the one ripped down, and they drop down because they’ve been cut with a right angle on all four sides. One half of their depth hangs below the surface of the grid. They come in all sorts of crazy styles but they look too busy to us. We would like our ceiling to disappear. They still make no-tegular but they are a special order item. And just so you both stores carry Armstrong with virtually the same line-up and price.
New Irondequoit library under construction in Rochester, New York
Everything in our town is split down the middle by the north/south extension of Goodman Street, Kings Highway. I love that name now but it used to bug me when I was going to Kearney. Even though the high school was at the start of Kings Highway I preferred to call it Goodman. We were called the Bishop Kearney Kings and I figured they named the street after that dump. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and after two years my parents finally gave in.
Kings Highway may have been a highway when kings ruled but it is not what we know as a highway today. When it crosses Titus, right where this picture was taken, the road becomes a miniature, two lane, Blue Ridge Parkway as it winds its way northward to the lake. There are very few houses, the road washes out frequently and it is surrounded by undeveloped parts of Durand Eastman Park. The view in fact is regal.
We have always had two libraries in this town but they plan to close both when this new library building, at Titus and Kings Highway, is complete. I’m holding my breath that the art section will be better than the one we have up by Wegmans.
A lot of restaurants aren’t even open on Mondays. Mr. Dominic’s at the lake in Charlotte is packed on Mondays. They went through some tough times (of their own making.) They have always had a faithful following, waiters and waitresses who had been there for decades, great chefs with hard core Italian cred and reasonable prices but when Dom (the guy with the profile) died the kids forgot to pay the taxman, or so we heard. The doors were shut. They remodeled. They reopened.
We were there early and I ordered my usual, Manicotti Elizabeth (with mushrooms). I had a good view of the back corner where an elderly (our age) couple was dining. I couldn’t help but notice the image of Christ in the faux marbleized wallpaper. So when Donald (Mr. Dominic’s son) strolled by I caught his attention. “What’s with Christ’s face on the wall over there?” “I know, I know. Isn’t that something? It came with the wallpaper.”
Our refrigerator came with our house. It was made by Amana, a brand that seems to have dropped off the face of the earth. It keeps things cold alright, but lettuce and fresh produce freeze unless you have them right up front and the motor is really noisy. Peggi did a some research online. We had access, through a friend, to Consumer Reports’ website and they rank models on temperature control, design, reliability and noise. We rode our bikes over to Sears, one of the only stores left in Medley Center, to check them out in person.
The local power company, RG&E, is offering a fifty dollar rebate if you get an energy efficient model, Sears was having a Labor Day sale and they gave us five percent off if we opened a charge account. They deliver, they haul away your old model and if we pay the total on the first bill they give us an addition twenty bucks off. The salesman over there said he only works Sundays,”to pay for dance lessons, not mine, my daughter’s” but he really knew his stuff.
I was thinking about the refrigerator we had in our first apartment. It was my grandparents old unit. Every couple of months it would swell shut with frost engulfing whatever it was we had in there. After that bit the dust we picked up a used harvest gold GE that we brush-painted an eggplant color. The salesman said he wasn’t supposed to tell us but Whirlpool is the same as Kenmore. We checked out a Samsung before choosing an LC (formerly Goldstar) model in black with French doors and the freezer on the bottom. We rode our bikes home and expect delivery in two days.
View of brick walls from Highland Hospital’s fifth floor
You would think hanging around hospitals would give you plenty of time to keep up on your news consumption but I seem to have fallen behind as I visit, email updates, walk up and down the halls and compile confusing notes on tests results.
I just checked in at Google News and see that a nine year girl accidentally shot her shooting instructor with an Uzi. “Scientists ‘Rewrite’ Bad Memories in Mice.” And Burger King, the Home of the Whopper, is buying Tim Hortons. Their signature drink is a “Double Double,” coffee with two creams and two sugars. I take mine black and I’ve never been to a Tim Hortons. The last time I was at a Burger King was when I was living in a dorm in Indiana. I see DropBox is now offering a terabyte of storage and I’m dreaming about what I could do with all that space.
We stopped in at Record Archive’s new back room last night to watch an early trailer for an upcoming documentary on the thriving record store. I was hoping to see some archival footage of MX-80 in their old “Back Room” or maybe even that time I played drums with Greg Prevost from the Chesterfield Kings. There was some great old footage though and plenty of new stuff with the colorful cast of current, long time employees, mostly guys with long hair and beards.
50’s Chevy in front of Playground Tavern, Rochester, New York
Still have not set foot in the Playground Tavern. It has been up for sale for over a year and I couldn’t even find a listing for it so I doubt if it will be going anywhere soon but I’m itching to get inside.
We celebrated the fourth down at the lake at some friends’ house. The neighbors in the Crescent Beech area have parties that night and they collect driftwood all year to burn in the giant bonfires that line the beach. This year it got a title out of control with one of the neighbors calling the fire department on someone who built a three story tiki bar to burn when the sun went down. They must spend a fortune on the Chinese fireworks. They all come from stores on the Pennsylvania side of the border. The Chinese Lanterns, silently floating in the wind, were my favorite part. I was hoping the things burnt up before landing but we spotted a purple one in the woods today when we took our walk.
My father was telling me how his family used to take the trolley down there to the beech in front of where Schaller’s is now. His dad would go in the bar that was across the street and have beer or two while he watched the ballgame and he and his sisters would swim. He told us he never saw his mom or dad go in the water.
I was going to try and connect corporate personhood to this post, the way Maureen Dowd connected the US World Cup loss as a way to advance beyond American exceptionalism, but the two words themselves don’t even go together.
There is something about sun that affects the style of the game. The Northern Europeans play a technical, physical, methodical game. I know this is a huge generalization but Southern European teams play with artistic flair and the Latin American teams take that to the extreme. I would love to see Brazil win the Cup but that seems impossible with Neymar out with an injury and Silva out on a self inflicted penalty.
Everyone is drawn to Messi, viewers and especially opponents. But as they put pressure on Messi they only raise the bar for his artistic performance. And, at the same time, their magnetic attraction opens spaces for Messi to feed. I especially like the way he and DiMarie operate in that pressure cooker. With the US out we are pulling for Argentina. It was a joy to watch them take out the team that sent the US home but it was hard to watch DiMaria, “Fideo” (the noodle), leave the game with an injury.
I am happy Costa Rica took the Netherlands into the the penalty kick stage today but I’m happy the Netherlands won there, only because it will be so much fun to see Argentina take down the Orange in the semis. Brazil and Argentina in the finals would be the perfect final ticket but realistically I’m guessing it will be Argentina and Germany and we witness this class of instinct vs. method.
220 Alexander Street Building in Rochester, New York
Pete Monacelli did a series of drawings based on the old Security Trust building downtown. His wife worked there for many years and he found enough architectural details in the 1960’s building to churn out a brilliant batch of interpretations. And since seeing his show at Rochester Contemporary I have been paying closer attention to the buildings this city has to offer. As brutal as they are they don’t last forever. We’ve already begun tearing down buildings from the sixties.
I had completely forgotten that I did the Landmark Society’s 75th year logo until we were signing in at their annual House and Garden Tour this afternoon. This year, their seventy-fifth, was the historic Mt. Hope and Highland neighborhood, the former Ellwanger and Barry Nursery which at one time was the largest nursery in the world. Nestled between Highland Hospital, Frederick Olmstead”s Highland Park and Mount Hope Cemetery where Susan B. Anthony and Frederick Douglas are buried the tour included Beaux Art, Arts & Crafts Bungalow, Gothic Revival, Italian Villa and a little Art Deco style homes. We started at the Lamberton Conservatory and finished up at both the Ellwanger and Barry homes. Thank god for the gay guys that have restored so many of these houses.
Gate at Wisner road Entrance to Durand Eastman Park
After a busy day I was ready to fall asleep to a good movie on Friday night but instead I got all antsy. “The Last Ride,” supposedly about the last few hours of Hank Williams’ life, was making me anxious and it had nothing to do with Hank’s plight. First of all, why were all his songs sung by somebody else in the movie? I’m guessing his estate got wind of this turkey and said, “forget it.” Hank was surely more complicated and interesting than the one dimensional Jessie James version. We have no idea how this damn thing wound up in our Netflix queue.
On the other hand, an email from Duane with a short rant about a bad day noted how he washed it all away with the fabulous “Beware of Mr. Baker,” a documentary about and with the great drummer Ginger Baker. OK, he’s a flawed character. Give the guy a break. He is a mind blowing drummer. Isn’t that enough?
Dave Mahoney and I hitchhiked down to NYC to see Blind Faith at Madison Square Garden and the crowd left their seats and we all got as close to the stage as possible when Ginger cut loose. This is primal stuff and this movie gets at the magic. Watch closely as he cries while talking about Max Roach, Art Blakey and Elvin Jones. Watch him smile sweetly while playing drums with Fela Kuti.
We were all over the city yesterday. Out to MCC to meet with the financial master, Joe Marchese, over to Sophia’s Shoe Repair where my father picked up his reconditioned leather satchel, down to the the co-op to pick up some cherry concentrate, just enough time to stop home for a tuna sandwich and be at I-Square to take down the show and then over to Carroll’s on East Main where we had a pint to celebrate Martha O’Conner’s birthday. Onward to Geri’s, significantly numbered, Mexican themed, birthday bash. Her son, Paul, was bar-tending and I turned down his Patron and grapefruit in favor of a Tecaté.
I was ready to sleep in today but it was our neighborhood pool opening. We take off the winter cover, stick the umbrellas into the tabletops, wash the chairs, prime the pump, brush the scum off the walls and dowse the water with shock. The water temp is not even fifty so we’re a few weeks away from cannon balls.
Just down the street from 1975 Gallery on Charlotte Street you can view this post industrial art installation through the window of the temporary gallery space in the former Craig Auto-metrics. The show is up far a limited time as the building is being converted into Hartz Market.
We stood outside a Vodaphone shop in Puerta del Sol trying to decide if we wanted to buy a SIM card for our iPad. Do we really need to be connected all the time? It seems the rest of the world is but we have resisted. Of course we have a high speed connection in our home and we couldn’t live without that even though we managed to do so for many years.
Phone calls can feel like an intrusion and I would rather not get one at all in the woods or at Wegmans. We find wifi connections when we travel and check in a few times a day, but in those moments when I know we could call up a map to avoid walking exactly 180 degrees the wrong way out of the center of Parque de Retiro I feel like we are living some sort of performance art piece by going without a cellular connection.
My new camera offers a lot of advice that I am choosing to ignore like the “Basic techniques for shooting” screen where Sony says, “Position a subject off center.” And “Movie Basics: Continuous shooting can produce a monotonous movie.” Those are my favorite movies.
I’m taking Steve Hoy’s recommendation and going with the 2×3 aspect ratio setting. It’s actually a higher res photo which is counterintuitive unless you’re a math major. The display screen on the back of the camera is 4×3 so the default 2×3 looks smaller back there. It looks like the top and bottom were cropped off but it is actually showing me the same height with more width so if I want 4×3 I’ll just crop the 2x3s.
Yes, we sat around the table until 3AM or so and I still did not want the night to end but there is a limit to pure enjoyment. I think it was Louise who asked us all what our New Year’s resolution was. Responses started to my right and they were all so interesting I began to panic as as the circle closed in on me. I manage to do some of my best work when I am under the gun and I came up with this one only moments before my turn. Where the other resolutions were met with rousing, standing toasts mine was greeted with a round of boos.
I had to explain myself and luckily I managed that. The evening, the company, the conversation was all so beautiful I only want more of the same.
John Dodd bench at Nan Miller Gallery in Rochester, New York
The local PBS station recently broadcast a documentary of Albert Paley’s thirteen sculpture installations on Manhattan’s Park Avenue medium. We stumbled across a couple of the sculptures as we cut across town, gallery hopping this summer. All thirteen of them were created specifically for the show and most sold. Paley taught with my brother, John, at Rochester Institute of Technology but now spends his days in his 40,000 square foot studio workplace in the former Valeo plant on Lyell Avenue.
Locally Paley is represented by the Nan Miller Gallery and Sunday’s paper featured an article about his show there. My brother is coincidentally showing some work there along side of Paley and I’m hoping crowds that Paley attracts are drawn to my brother’s exquisite work. This bench is similar to the two that the city bought for the sidewalk in front of City Newspaper and it would work inside or out.
The glorious color of Fall has peaked. Most of the leaves are brown and under snow now but the late Autumn palette is still in full display. The quantity has been reduced but the appreciation level for what remains has risen. The advance of Winter is a welcome refresher course in minimalism. But first we feast.
We shared Thanksgiving with our friends, Matthew and Louise, in their new home and took turns around the table giving thanks for a few things. Mine were just off the top of my head but I suspect we could have spent the entire meal itemizing our bounty but then we wouldn’t have had time to discuss misogyny in New Zealand or who it was that actually wrote Shakespeare. We were honored to be invited and had no idea Matthew was a gourmet chef so the evening was both a delight and a surprise. The turkey was there but only a minor player in the parade of red pepper soup, roasted brussels sprouts, lemony greens, stuffing with apples, cranberry with ginger, sweet potatoes with melted cheese and tawny port. You know how a drummer sometimes does a quick roll at the conclusion of a song? Well, a bowl of imported English licorice punctuated last night’s performance.
