Blue wought iron chairs at lakeside, Rochester New York
The U.S. should have been able to walk all over Nigeria but they only managed one goal, well, two with the bad off-sides call, and they couldn’t even score with Nigeria a woman down. How are they going to handle Germany, Brazil or even Canada? I’m glad Abby got one but but she kind of lumbers around the center. Unless someone is looking for her head on a corner she doesn’t see much action at all. We’ve got a solid defense but things fall apart in the middle. OK, they made it out of the group of death but I wish I wasn’t so worried about them.
After the game we stopped over at our neighbor’s house. Wreckless Eric was staying there overnight on his way to a solo gig in Toronto. He played us his new record, first one in twelve years, but talked most of the way through it. Record sounds lush in low fi way. Peggi told Eric he’s a very melodic bass player and Eric told us the guy in Yo La Tenga told him he sounds like Jack Cassidy. That led to a Jefferson Airplane discussion and then Jack Bruce and Cream, the first three Hendrix albums and Led Zeppelin’s 1. And then we discussed the merits of hearing songs out of context. We left when it got around to Jethro Tull.
Water tank on Sea Breeze Way near Seneca Road in Rochester, New York
Christo and Jeanne-Claude are already starting to dismantle their newest art project, the wrapping of the Seneca Road water tower near the Sea Breeze Water Authority headquarters. You had better hurry on up to the lake to take this dramatic sight in before it is all wrapped up. Each day provides distinctly different views. The top of the tower was partialy unwrapped on Saturday and it looked impossibly blue against the blue skies. Air flow is also a factor as the framework of the structure appears to bend as the sheets billow. The tower is normally fairly quiet as gravity has been harnessed to supply pressure to the residents below but during the installation you’ll be treated to something akin to a white noise soundtrack.
As is usually the case with the Christos, the securing of the permit, the town hall meetings and negotiations with the various neighborhood factions that are opposed to the project are all part of the art piece. In fact a documentary crew has been filming each of these related events.
In this case the town had to vote on the approval of the spending for extra security. The vote passed by a wide margin but because this is Irondequoit an outspoken stickler and member of the opposite party called the town supervisor’s attention to an “T” that wasn’t crossed and the whole town had report to the auditorium of Christ the King to vote on the tax expenditure a second time.
Huge pile of dirt for fill-in of the Inner Loop in Rochester, New York
It is certainly possible to correct your mistakes but often it takes forever to realize that you made a mistake. The Inner Loop, circling downtown Rochester, alleviated traffic alright. It choked the life out of the city core. Colorblind James used to lead chants at their gigs of “Fill in the Inner Loop.” Chuck (Colorblind) is gone now and soon one half of the loop will be buried as well. Let’s hope the new development in this area, the former moat between the Park Avenue neighborhood and downtown, will not resemble a freakin’ theme park.
The Brian Wilson movie, is really good. Not because it sheds any new light on the band for lifelong fans (I am one) but because the music comes first including long recreations of the making of “Good Vibrations,” “Pet Sounds” and the “Smile” sessions. I never get tired of the many official and unofficial boots of Brian and the studio musicians tracking and orchestrating snippets of these classic songs and, in fact, appreciate Brian’s genius more and more as the years go by. A funny notion for a surf band.
The movie could never be “great” because the music it is based on is “great.” The movie can only pale. Elizabeth Banks, playing Brian’s second wife, was better than both the young and older Brian actors. Can somebody play “Surf’s Up” at my funeral? Sorry Van Dyke Parks, I have no idea what those words are about but I love Brian’s music and voice.
Which brings me to Ornette’s passing. As the headline in the paper read, he “Rewrote the Language of Jazz.” He rewrote it so I could get it under my skin. My first Ornette lp was “Science Fiction.” Maybe the two hauntingly beautiful vocal songs pulled me in, ‘All My Life” and “What Reason Could I Give?.” They may have been the footing I needed for the music. Ed Blackwell’s drums blew me away. Charlie Haden’s bass playing is god-like. And Ornette’s totally unique, joyous sax had me dancing in my head. From there the rest of the catalog took hold of me. Long live Ornette!!!!
Rochester Contemporary gets submissions from all corners of he world for their annual 6×6 show. Its their biggest fundraiser so why should they quit it? Not to mention that no one has come up with a better idea. We heard director, Bleu Cease, on the radio talking up the celebrity entrants and the mad scramble to purchase their work on opening day. We had a soccer game to watch that night we missed the affair but we did have a chance to preview the work.
If everybody knows that Philip Glass has something in the show, as he does every year, wouldn’t you think someone would be doing fake Philip Glass’s and submitting them? I mean the real Philip Glass’s only bring twenty bucks like every other piece. Supposedly the authorship is kept anonymous but some artists work is so distinctive you pick it out in a sea of thousands. And in my father’s case he signed his “Hot Dog Row” homage on the front. Would Philip Glass really submit a piece on section of musical score paper with the words “Einstein on the Beach” on it? His most famous piece? I’ve tried some different things over the years and went minimal/maximal this year. Next year I plan to do forgeries. As a fundraiser.
Bleu trapped us on the way out and solicited video responses to three questions. One was what was you favorite piece in the show? I tried to describe this fuzzy, furry, three dimensional piece (above). I can’t wait to hear/see that rambling reply.
Marshall Street Bar with Western New York Flash for USA Women’s match vs. Australia
Brad Fox used to call this place the “Glass Bunion” back in the disco days. Officially the “Glass Onion,” I believe it was done in by a cocaine overdose. It’s called Marshall Street Bar now and the WNY Flash gathered there last night to watch the US national team in their first game of the 2015 World Cup, this one against Australia. The US may be favored but after watching the Germans run circles around Ivory Coast in their opener I’d put my money on then. I’m not a betting man though.
The women’s professional league is small and we are so lucky to have a team based here. Many of the US team players have either played for the Flash (Abby, Morgan, Lloyd and Leroux) or come through here to play against the Flash so it was blast to watch them win last night.
They were probably paid by FIFA to attend the broadcast because most of the team (seen sitting in the first row above) was there. They could have seen the game better on tv. Most of them seemed more interested in their phones than the game and who could blame them at their age. Our friend, Kerry, won one of the raffles and got most of their autograghs. I was headed to the bathroom when I spotted the Flash’s Lynn Williams by herself. I told her I watched her in the practice rounds and I thought she was the best shooter on the team. That’s where I should have stopped but I went on to say I thought she should be more aggressive on the field. She thanked me but I will keep my mouth shut next time. I can see how her phone would be more important than being on the national team.
It is the season to binge on soccer. The Champions Cup final with the dream threesome of Messi, Neymar and Suarez up front for Barcelona when they met Italy’s Juventus this weekend really got our blood flowing.
Fred Lipp sculpture entitled Omnipresent 1983 in the Marion M. Whitbeck Garden at Rochester General Hospital
Fred (Fritz) Lipp passed away on Sunday morning. A tremendous loss for his family, his students and Rochester. I’ve written quite a bit here about him. His longtime students, our fellow painters, could find no reason to leave the advanced painting class once they found Fred. He had an amazing ability to always be there to take it up a notch. There was no end because as he often told us, he learned from the best. He conversed with Matisse, Van Gogh, El Greco and Guston when he stood in front of their paintings. “They talk to me,” he would say. And Fred loved to share what he learned. We were so lucky to have know him.
Every year the Creative Workshop would have a faculty show and Fred would show a new piece, something to blow your mind, but otherwise he was very quiet about his work. He was commissioned to create the sculpture shown above (please click on it for full photo) for Rochester General Hospital. Entitled “Omnipresent,” it was paid for by a wealthy donor and it originally sat in a courtyard where you could walk around the piece and experience the sculpture in space. The hospital expanded. The sculpture was moved to the Marion M. Whitbeck Garden, in a courtyard near the old entrance. The light that was inside the piece no longer shines. In fact it is not even wired as it was in its original location.
As fate would have it Fred spent some of his last days in this hospital and he visited his sculpture. He talked about the piece in our last conversation and we promised him we would do all we could to get the hospital to run an electric line to the sculpture. Maybe someday we will again see the light as it seeps out the artfully constructed openings.
Our friend, Alice, who was in the class when I first joined, emailed us this. “His words still ring around in my brain… when I paint or just in life… the wisdom applies to both life and art.” I’m quoting her because I feel exactly the same. It is our duty to duty to carry on with this wisdom.
Hank Ballard & The Midnighters photo sent to 4D Advertising when we were doing an album cover for them
My grandparents used to covert their garage into a porch in the summer. The car sat out in the driveway when we arrived for a visit and we’d sit around and talk in their garage. As I remember they even had a rug on the floor. As we rode our bikes down Panaview Drive to the hospital yesterday I notice a few houses with screens rolled up above their overhead garage doors, a couple of them right across the street from one another, ready to convert. This is how I’d like to spend my summer. Sitting on the porch as the world goes by.
Panaview changes its name to Norlane as you cross Bouckhart and there was a sign on that corner that read “Garage Sale Now.” We followed it down Norlane and it turned out to be the house with the pink bike strapped to a tortured tree. Our street is having a garage sale this weekend so we stopped in to check out the competition. I asked how much the pink bike was and the woman said $20. They had a box of Ukrainian records and some pictures from the old country and the sign in front of their house had “garage” misspelled. I photographed it for my sign site.
Well, our street sale turned out to have only two takers. Rick and Monica, across the street, are starting to downsize and we’re still trying to get rid of Peggi’s mom’s stuff. And of course we have a bunch crap so we plan to open our doors Saturday at 9AM.
But first I had to clean out our garage. I started by recycling a box of used padded envelopes. Some photos fell out of one, mostly Polaroids of the King All Stars, Fred Wesley, Hank Ballard, Cal Green, Country Kellum, Bobby Byrd, Pee Wee Ellis, Bubba Brooks, Bootsy Collins, Vicki Anderson, St. Clair Pinckney, Bill Doggett and Clyde Stubblefield. All single person close-ups. We did the album, cd and cassette package for After Hours Records and I think we used these inside.
There was a 35mm print in there too, the one above. Hank Ballard‘s girlfriend sent it to us I can’t remember if we did a separate record cover for him or what but I remember taking the picture out of the envelope and how it reeked of stale cigarette smoke. I have no idea why he is hanging onto an umbrella.
Our neighbor has a little project going on, one that requires a dumpster. I asked him if I could photograph their dumpster. He said, “What?” I repeated the request and explained that I photograph dumpsters. I said, “I have a collection of them.
We gathered today in our usual painting room at the Creative Workshop of the MAG. Most of us are long-time students of Fred Lipp’s and our week revolves around Tuesday’s class. A good percentage of the day class were there and our night class had a respectable showing but our teacher wasn’t there. He’s quite sick and we were meeting for two reasons: to discuss a tribute show in his honor and secondly, to determine how to carry on. I specifically did not say “carry on without him” because the gifts he gave us are ours to use.
As the group dispersed a few us were standing around taking about Fred’s teaching method. Bill Keyser was telling my father how he would have a list of things he was about to do and Fred would come by and say, “Forget about your plan. Look at your painting right now.” This in fact may be Fred’s most important point. Always stay open to what is on the page right now. “Painting is not a destination. It is an adventure.” Step back and look at the work. “Always address the worst first.” When the “worsts” are gone, your painting may be done.
I’ve searched my past posts and collected some of the lessons I am still learning from him. I find these truisms apply to most disciplines, certainly music.
The class was not about Fred’s work. In fact he rarely showed. The first thing I saw by him was a sculpture/installation in a Finger Lakes show, ripped open pieces of re-tread tires spewing at you from the corner of the gallery. It was sensational and it went on to the statewide exhibit in Albany. His class is called “Advanced Painting” and students work in collage, watercolor, acrylic, oil, drawing or sculpture. His methods are the same for all mediums.
There are no assignments. He rotates around the room addressing individual students as they work and pretty much says the same thing to each. He does not want you to talk first when he gets to you. “Don’t talk it. Show me.”
His stock of grey paper is his primary teaching tool. With this neutral grey he would cover parts of your work to show you what currently works. He’ll sometimes cover three fourths of your painting and tell you, “There’s your painting.
Many of Fred’s students say “he taught me how to see.” More importantly, I think he teaches us to trust our eyes. We already know how to see but we don’t trust it. If you have doubts about something in your painting that would be your eye talking. “If the question comes up, the answer is yes.”
Fred can be brutal. In many sessions the first class was the last we would see of a new student. He was brutal because he was honest and painters who did not want to learn left.
We visited Fred in the hospital last week and I asked him if any of his students had brought their paintings up to his room. He got a good laugh out of that one. A painting was never done until Fred pronounced it “done.” And it was just as often sooner rather than later than you expected.
Learning is a lifelong process. I’ve pulled these thoughts from my posts over the years. This link will take you to a page with all the posts on Fred.
There is no replacing Fred Lipp. He is one of a kind. He has been a mentor in every sense of the word and I am not alone. He packed the lecture hall at the MAG last summer with his presentation on spacial constructs, a comparison of three paintings from the MAG’s collection by Hans Hoffmann, Josef Albers and John Koch.
His daughter wrote that Fred is “the essence of art.” His ideals will live forever.
William Parker quartet performing at the Bop Shop in Rochester, New York
The 2015 Jazz Fest is still a few weeks off and we can only hope that we’ll see and hear something as good as the William Parker quartet at the Bop Shop tonight. They had just played in the relatively nearby cities, Pittsburg, Erie, Detroit and Toronto, and were returning to New York via Rochester. Their performance in the store was rather like musical chairs, the drummer, Federico Ughi, excluded. Daniel Carter played three saxes, clarinet, flute, trumpet and piano. Watson Jennison played piano, soprano sax, flute and recorder. He is a painter as well. And Parker played a rather small upright bass, tuba, a deep wooden flute and another small horn. Now close your eyes and imagine them playing all those instruments in one hour-long song.
William Parker quartet performing at the Bop Shop in Rochester, New York
When they came up for air William Parker told a long joke about guy named Skippy who knew everybody, Robert DiNiro, President Obama and the pope. The joke, as he told it, had no real punchline but it sure cleared the air. From there they played a beautiful folk-like melody. Danial Carter played clarinet, Watson a recorder, the drummer played the toms with mallets and Parker played a large wooden flute and sang these lyrics.
“Death has died today
God is in here
And the devil wears a big ol’ grin”
“Miniture Fairy Garden” sign at Case’s Garden Store on Norton Street in Rochester, New York
I spent the better part of the last couple days reworking my “Funky Signs” site, installed a new template, “Hipster” by Precrafted. It’s one column, infinite scrolling and mobile friendly.”
The sign above is so good it might not even need a snarky comment. I spotted it near the cash register in Case’s Garden Store over on Norton Street and added it to my to do list. I have two hundred signs up there and about a hundred in the kitty.
Following up on yesterday’s post about photographing interesting looking people there is this whole selfie phenomena. There is no negotiation with a model and the subject is always ready and willing. It is hard to even look at a painting in a museum without someone standing in front of it for a selfie.
I thought maybe I’d read a little something about selfies so I googled it and before I had the word spelled out I was prompted to click on “selfies before death.” I better get busy.
Three women at crosswalk near Robert Indiana’s Love sculpture NYC
Funny thing happens when you first hit the streets in New York. You want to photograph everything. Every person you see looks interesting. Not like you want to hang with them but maybe just take their picture and stare at it when you get home. And then after a few days everything and everybody looks rather ordinary. A bit of fatigue sets in from the overload of stimuli. Maybe if we hung around for a few more days I would have just the right amount of discernment. But we had to be back for our Margaret Explosion gig.
Here’s a song from last week’s show. We have one more Wednesday night at the Little and then we’re off for the summer.
Matisse painting, “The Piano Lesson,”at the Museum of Modern Art
Yoko Ono had so many good ideas her show was almost exhausting. She is a heavy hitter in conceptual art like her friend, the man they call “JC,” John Cage. She certainly didn’t dim John Lennon’s career but he may have hampered hers. She was really on a roll before they met.
MoMA has two sensational Giacometti paintings on display next to one of his figures on a two wheeled cart. A love his paintings. They are as playful, spatially speaking, as his sculptures and the two look so good together it was hard to move along.
There is also a fun show of Gilbert & George’s early work, mostly large drawings accompanied by this quote. “They weren’t Good Drawers. They weren’t Bad Drawers. But My God, they were Drawers.”
The reassembled Jacob Lawrence “Migration” series was graphic and moving. At the end of number 60 they funneled you into a room with film footage of Billie Holiday singing “Strange Fruit” and it packed an extreme punch.
Matisse’s “Swimming Pool.” is still up and next to it a whole room of choice Matisse paintings. The nearby Van Gogh “Starry Night” makes this the gravitational center of Manhattan.
We came down gently with Matisse’s back reliefs on the wall of the sculpture garden.
On Saturday we got to Chelsea much earlier than we usually do. We were prepared to see some art before all the galleries disappear down here. The place is on the move. Up. Most of the galleries were closed. Not because they’ve been squeezed out by condos but for the holiday. Everywhere we go holidays are getting in the way.
The Marlborough Gallery on W. 25 was open unfortunately. The sculpture show on the ground floor was silly so we followed a sign that read “Landscape Painting, Julius von Bismark” to the second floor where two videos were playing on a large screen. One had a group of workers in a tropical setting painting the leaves of large plants. Green on green. The other showed workers on ladders painting the rocks on the side of a hill. Lol. We were offended. Susan Inglett Gallery was open. The Hope Gangloff painting show there had had a nice write-up in yesterday’s paper. I liked them but not a lot. I like who her influences are, Alice Neel and Egon Schiele.
The new Whitney’s inaugural show was really fun. The building itself is fun. They pulled out their best stuff but arranged it in a mostly chronological order from the top floor down and a very curious thing happened. The oldest stuff was the best, the most engaging as well. By the time we got to the fifth floor with the Barbara Kruger and Matthew Barney stuff I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
We were maybe an hour and a half out of the city headed toward Grand Central on a Metro North train making last minute plans to hook up with Duane when he got out of work. He had some shopping to do in the East Village so he suggested meeting down there. It occurred to me that we would be in Greg Highlen’s neighborhood so I emailed Greg (he and we are some of the only people I know without a cellphone) and he said he could meet us in Washington Square Park. I was able to text Duane back minutes before we went underground and magically all three parties found each other near the fountain under the arch in the park.
It was a gorgeous day, sunny and cool, like one of those trippy Spring afternoons in Dunn Meadow on IU’s campus. Duane and Greg had never met but hit it off and between their conversations Peggi and I talked Bloomington ’69 – ’72, the years we hung together.
When I first met Greg he was an art major living not in a dorm but in his studio in one of the Fine Arts buildings. He talked of the trailer as a creative hub and despite downsizing his art collection has hung on to a copy of Rich Stim’s “Trailer Tails.” By chance we ran into Greg in the Village in the early eighties but hadn’t seen him since. Now he’s on top of the art world, living in the same fifth floor studio apartment for the last thirty eight years.
Before we met in the park I joked that we looked exactly the same. We didn’t but we sure acted the same.
I like how the word “Lake” comes before the name of the lake in Great Lakes naming conventions. I’m guessing this is a Native American custom but then that doesn’t add up when you think about how the Finger Lakes are named.
We crossed into New York State at Niagra’s Fort Lewiston Bridge and took the northern most route, 18, the “Seaway Trail,” back to Rochester. Mostly orchards, cobblestone houses and dairy farms sometimes right on the lake, it is a beautiful drive.
Olcot, an old resort town, park on the square and funky summer cottages, is especially dreamy. We sat at a picnic table overlooking the lake and watched a screen door on a bed and breakfast blow open and then slowly blow closed over and over. Like a mantra.
The Great Lakes are also great obstacles. As the crow flies Toronto is not that far from us but driving around Lake Ontario takes a few hours. To get to Detroit we drove around the bottom of Lake Erie. To get back we took the northerly route across Canada where we went out of our way to stop at an IKEA in Hamilton.
We didn’t really need anything but would have looked at something to replace our twenty five year old futon and we wanted to find a new entry way throw rug. The one we have is so old and frayed it has become a tripping hazard.
We had never been to an IKEA and we were pretty excited as we rounded the corner and spotted the sign. The giant parking lot was empty like they had gone out off business. It was really eerie. I typed the date and word Canada in Google and learned it was Victoria Day.
Woman in Mexican mask at Detroit Institute of the Arts
The fawn in our backyard this morning was no bigger than our cat but its legs were a lot longer. I had to wake Peggi up to catch this sight before it ran away. Just as I did we spotted a fox cross our backyard. I don’t know if they bother the deer but this one just kept moving. We watched as the fawn’s mother came from behind our bedroom and proceeded to groom her offspring. The little thing was trying to nurse while it was getting licked by mom and in about five minutes they were gone. All quite extraordinary.
It had me thinking of the fertility section in Diego Rivera’s mural that we had just visited at the Detroit Institute of the Arts. When we were there it seemed completely incongruous with the manly laborers and machinery but the baby in the womb was the image that stuck with me. Even after watching this woman prance around, taking selfies while wearing a mask.
We just visited a friend, in the hospital at the end of his life, and a scene like the one we witnessed this morning certainly helps right the ship.
I hit the motherland of mugshots at WFAA’s website. Downloaded all 144 Waco Texas bikers in jumpsuits. I’ll need a large quantity of orange paint for this one.
