Honest Employment

Two willows trees in Winter at the top of Seneca Lake
Two willows trees in Winter at the top of Seneca Lake

We spent the night in Geneva, New York and stopped at the top of Seneca Lake to ski in the park along the northern shore. It was a beautiful day but too cold for most people. On the way to Bellhurst Castle, where we would spend the night, we passed through town and spotted a new micro brewery, Lake Drum Brewing. I like the name and thought it was interesting that they named their place after something other than the the lake they were on. Could there be a connection. I googled “Seneca Lake” when we got to the room and found this wiki passage:

“Seneca Lake is also the site of a strange and currently unexplained phenomenon known as Mistpouffers. In this area, they are called the Seneca Guns, Lake Drums, or Lake Guns. These are mysterious cannon-like booms and shakes that are heard and felt in the surrounding area. The term Lake Guns originated in the short story “Lake Gun” by James Fenimore Cooper in 1851.”

At the hotel, near the first floor men’s room, I took a photo of a 1973 Philadelphia Inquirer article about one of the owner’s of the castle. I OCR’d the text in the photo:

This Gambler Is Rich
Kefauver Foe Lives in Luxury
GENEVA, N. Y.
Here in the Finger Lakes, in the wine regions of upstate New York, the big industries are tourism and wine growing. If you own a food store, you jack up the prices in the summer and spend all winter counting money. If you own a few acres of vineyard land, you’re a prosperous gentleman farmer selling grapes for $360 a ton to the wine companies that line the lakes.

But there was a time when Cornelius J. (Red) Dwyer had a third industry going. On the second floor of his huge, looming castle here on the banks of Seneca Lake, Red Dwyer ran one of the hottest gambling casinos in the east. From Saratoga to New York City, the high rollers would gather together their cash and come here to be separated from it in style ‐ all while Sophie Tucker sang in the corner. It went on for 20 years until Sen. Estes Kefauver called Dwyer before his crime investigating committee and persuaded him to find honest employment.

Dwyer turned the place into a restaurant ‐ a pretty good restaurant – and that’s what Belhurst castle is today.

Now, at 83… Red Dwyer spends his days puttering around his 30 oak-studded acres, luxuriating in splendid retirement. He has parlayed a floating crap game in a New York railroad town into a castle by the lake and in his declining years he can take pride in being one of the most successful gamblers of all time.

“I’m relaxing these days,” he says. But that’s a recent development. Dwyer was born in Lyons, N. Y., son of a dirt-poor Irish railroad family. He quit school at 14 to work as a fireman for five years for the New York Central railroad. But he found gambling more profitable. He opened a pool hall and floating crap game in Lyons and before he was done owned casinos in Miami, Saratoga, French Lick, Ind, and he ran another at Cat Cay, a millionaires’ playground in the Bahamas.

His biggest single score was a $50,000 hit from a newspaperman in Saratoga and he‘s done well enough with cards and dice to buy a new Cadillac every year since 1922. “Some years,” he said, “I’ve had as many as three: When I bought my 50th, the Cadillac people threw me a big party.” Dwyer went broke in the crash of ’29, but he bought his castle four years later with money he made running booze by speedboat into the State from Canada. His only arrest was in 1931 when the Feds nailed him for illegal possession of alcohol. He paid a $10,000 fine.

The castle itself is a monstrous, 26-room affair, ornately, carved on the inside and ivy-covered outside. It was built in 1888 by a family named Harron, direct decedents of Henry Clay of Ohio. Dwyer can’t guess at its current worth.

“It’s irreplaceable,” he says. “You just couldn’t build it again.”

Today the castle is Dwyer’s only holding. He says the politicians forced him out of Saratoga by charging outrageous sums for graft. In Geneva the local pols had less expensive tastes.

“A young man couldn’t make it today the way I made it,” he says. “There’s too much mob control in gambling now. I knew them all in my day but they never bothered me. Why not? Well, I was lucky, I guess.”

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Oh Hey

Dylan is getting great reviews for his Sinatra release. I bought Peggi a $7.99 download copy for her birthday and we listened to it on the way down to Seneca Lake and then on the way back. I love hearing his voice, the slide guitar and the drummer’s brushes but some of the songs were a stretch the first time around. On second listening we were deliberately staying off the highway because of all the snow. We were traveling about twenty miles an hour on the back roads while huge snowflakes were falling. The album sounded just perfect, every song.

When I was first getting to know Rich I remember asking him what kind of music he liked. He told me something about Broadway musical soundtracks that his parents had in the house. I don’t think this is a Brian Williams kind of memory or anything. I clearly remember thinking, “that’s odd.” Well forty some years later Bar Stool Walker has new cd out. And of course that means new videos to go along with the songs. “Oh Hey Broadway” is a smash.

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New Brain Cells

Ryan Lamfers "Degradation" at R Gallery in Rochester, New York
Ryan Lamfers “Degradation” at R Gallery in Rochester, New York

“Through rain, sleet and snow the mail must go through.” Well, forget about that.

We had an envelope in our box for two days and no one picked it up. We’ve been collecting our neighbor’s mail while they are away and their box was empty as well. So I called the Post Office. “Monique (our regular carrier) was on vacation and the substitute got lost.” That was the excuse for the first day. On the second day (Monday) we had some snow, not too much, just enough to freshen up the ski paths through the woods. But I guess it was enough delay the substitute carrier and at five thirty or so they all the delivery people were called off the roads.

So the New Yorker was a couple days late.

The apartment building where my father lives has a subscription to the Wall Street Journal and my father picks it up at the end of the day. He cut out a few articles for us, one on books about the Spanish Civil War, one on the abstract expressionist, Franz Kline, and one on cultivating new brain cells.

Frederick Gage of the Salk Institute says our brains regenerate new cells while taking long walks. Because we are still evolving, thank god, “our bodies associate the exertion with moving from an existing territory, which had perhaps become depleted of food or too dangerous, to a new, unexplored territory whose details must be learned. In anticipation, the brain releases new cells and growth factors, which create a more plastic state and make possible new neural connections.”

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Don’t Touch Me

Soundtrack LP to the movie "Five Easy Pieces"
Soundtrack LP to the movie “Five Easy Pieces”

If I joined Spotify and shared my country compilation there would sure to be some missing links. I only version of Tammy Wynette’s amazing “Don’t Touch Me” that I have is the one on the soundtrack to “Five Easy Pieces.” Yes, “Stand By Your Man” and “D I V O R C E” are on there but it is this song that kills me. Billy Sherrill produced it work and like so many George Jones hits it still sounds great.

This is one of the best soundtrack albums we have. And it is not available as a download. I thought, “surly it is a collectable lp” so searched it on Amazon. $3.99, the same price we payed when we bought the lp in 1971. With long bits of dialog and all of Bobby’s monologue when he visits his dying father, the album is as moving as the movie. The dark, dreamy Chopin, Bach and Mozart pieces mixed with Tammmy Wynette, Karen Black and Jack Nicholson is pure genius.

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Stop The World And Let Me Off

Old chicken coop near Gosnell Park in Webster New York
Old chicken coop near Gosnell Park in Webster New York

I was living with Peggi in a small rented house on the outskirts of town. We set up our bedroom on the porch. It was enclosed with wrap-around windows. We converted the bedroom to a band room and I was playing drums in there one night when someone knocked on the door. I opened the door and three guys were standing there. I was in my early twenties and these guys were old, well into their thirties. I was certain they were there to complain about the noise but they said they’d been outside listening and they wanted me to join their band. Apparently “Frank Canada” (listed on the card) had left the band and these guys were desperate. They had two gigs coming up that week.

This was Bloomington, Indiana I could tell by looking at them that they were talking about a kind of music I knew nothing about. I tried my best to talk my way out of this but a few days later I found myself out in the country, rehearsing in the living room of a trailer. Black velvet paintings on the wall and strange people sitting in the living room while we played songs I had never heard of. They kept asking, “You know that song called such and such?” and I would go, “No.”

Somehow we got through the gigs and rehearsed the next week in the bass player’s barn without the lead singer. Turns out the bass player, who had a sweet voice, and the rhythm guitar player, who loved Waylon Jennings, were conspiring to give Butch Miller (the cad) the boot and start their own band. They found a young guitar player with slicked back hair who worked at the Bloomington hospital and sang just like Johnny Cash. The three of them traded songs and we were booked every weekend and holiday for the next year and half in Eagles, Elks, Moose Clubs, American Legions, VFWs, coon hunts and anywhere cigarettes were smoked and Falstaff Beer was served.

I fell in love with the stuff, Classic Country by today’s definition. Eric and Amy’s version of Johnny Cash’s “I Still Miss Someone” was stuck in my head for a week after their recent “Homemade Airplane” concert so I decided to get serious about making a digital copy my “Stop The World and Let Me Off” compilation. Over the years I had picked up vinyl copies of the songs we used to do (by the original artists) and during the Napster craze I downloaded low res versions but it was time to do it up right. Ripping vinyl is a real-time exercise. It took me a few days but I assembled the collection with three versions of the title song. Now, it is time to plan a Honky Tonk party.

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The Price We Pay

Robert Indiana Love sculpture in midtown Manhattan
Robert Indiana Love sculpture in midtown Manhattan

“I’m reading this book. Oh, I can’t remember who it’s by and I can’t remember the name of it but if I tell you what it’s about maybe you’ll recognize it.” We were seated next to a table of four-two well dressed couples, who were maybe in their seventies, in Rooney’s where we often go to celebrate Peggi’s birthday and their conversation was almost impossible to block out.

Rooney’s is an expensive place so this sort of thing goes with the territory. Think Luis Buñuel’s “Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.” When we first sat down they were talking about how much money this mutual friend had. They were saying that she would need three and half million for some sort of move and the woman told them, “Well, I don’t have anywhere near that amount.” They acted surprised and then one of them said, “OK, let’s talk about something else.”

We heard how one of the couples was stuck in an elevator in NYC and the hotel gave them a free dinner and how they enjoyed running the tab up over a thousand dollars with cavier and rare wine. And then the two women started their own conversation about going on EBay to find out how much their artwork was worth so that when they died their kids wouldn’t just throw it in a dumpster.

They started running down local restaurants, the good and bad. One of the guys was in the restaurant business at some point and he said back then 40% of the business was in cash and now it all is credit cards and harder to hide. “I still use cash at restaurants, like when the bill comes to twenty dollars, I’ll leave a three dollar tip in cash.” Peggi quickly calculated that that would be mere 15% and we laughed.

On their way out we heard them lamenting the fact that the restaurant doesn’t offer valet parking any more.

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Vulnerability

Deer on hillside in woods
Deer on hillside in woods

We chased a herd of deer toward the lake as we skied through the woods today, maybe twelve or so of them including a buck with a decent sized rack. And on the way back we chased the same herd back toward our neck of the woods. They must feel a lot more vulnerable in the snow. They are normally camouflaged. In the winter they take off as soon as they see us. In the other seasons they wait and check us out. If we act casual they will hold their ground and we get within fifteen feet or so. We come across their sleeping spots all the time, melted snow, indentations about a foot deep with leaves visible and of course, deer scat.

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Wits About

Louis Vuitton store window in New York
Louis Vuitton store window in New York

We got back from New York just in time to make a toasted cheese sandwich and head out for painting class. I didn’t even have time to shovel the roof until the next morning. The temperatures were above freezing by then and ice damning is a concern when the snow melts and rolls toward our big overhangs. The roof temperature there is quite a bit colder than it is over our living quarters so freezes, forms an ice damn and can lift the shingles and drip into the house. This has only been a problem one time so I head it off at the pass. I’m only up there a few time a year and it’s pretty easy shoveling because it is all downhill. I just have to keep my wits about me up there and that is a challenge.

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Dinner With Matisse

View of Central Park from 29th floor of the Park Lane Hotel
View of Central Park from 29th floor of the Park Lane Hotel

Peggi was an AAU competitive swimmer in her younger years and Matisse’s “Swimming Pool” cutout, re-installed at the Met in a room built to the same specs as the dining room where the work originally wrapped around the four walls, seems to have awoken the deep connection she has with water and art. This was the piece she wanted to see the most on our second tour of the show. And like the faithful on a religious pilgrimage we were rewarded at journey’s end. The piece is a masterpiece created by a master. Cut shapes that are not. Matisse cuts forms from flatly painted paper. The figures and water are abstract and representational and expressive at once. Ultimately thrilling.

This visit to the big city was different. We didn’t stay at Chez Sherwood although we did hook up for dinner. Peggi booked a room in midtown on Central Park South. Because we booked at last minute we were able to secure a “handicap accessible” room that they were looking to fill for a song. And when we checked in they asked if we needed the handicap stuff. We shook our heads (someday we’ll get ours) and upgraded it to a junior suite on the 29th floor overlooking the park for the same price.

We never took the subway this time and walked to the Met, MoMa and dinner. We stayed mostly in midtown and managed to not set foot in the big brand name shops, Gucci, Armani, Coach, Prada and Apple. And because it is so close to Peggi’s birthday we spent thirty five dollars on a pair of perfumy gin and tonics at the hotel bar.

View of Central Park from 29th floor of the Park Lane Hotel
View of Central Park from 29th floor of the Park Lane Hotel
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Madame Cezanne

Madame Cezanne painting at Metropolitan Museum of Art
Madame Cezanne painting at Metropolitan Museum of Art

“El Greco in New York” is a pretty sensational name for the show that ended today at 5:30 at the the Metropolitan Museum of Art considering the city did not even exist in his time. And the show is just as sensational but not the showstopper that the “Madame Cezanne” show at the same institution is.

Twenty four of the twenty nine known paintings that Cezanne did of his wife have been rounded up for this show. Every painter that matters cites Cezanne as the man and this is what they’re talking about. The “father of modern art” depicted form in two dimensions better than anyone and he did it primarily with color but followed it up with radical form depiction in his drawing. He is also the godfather of cubism.

He pulls out all the stops with this “Madame Cezanne in Red” (above). The bottom of her dress is being thrown at you. She is very present but only part of this huge environment. We are drawn in on the left side and come out on the right along with that curtain. Madame Cezanne’s face, which can be pretty even as she pouts in the other paintings is sacrificed here and close to distorted in a masterful show of form.

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From Truck To Plate

Super Bowl cup-cakes at Kneads & Wants on Lake Avenue in Rochester, New York
Super Bowl cup-cakes at Kneads & Wants on Lake Avenue in Rochester, New York

Amy and Eric got right into it last night. They rocked the Aerodome until the wheels did fall off. They played some great new songs about home remodeling and Sysco trucks on the interstate. They started “Astrovan” in three different keys before settling on “A” and they delivered a stellar version of “Do You Remember That?”

To my ears, Eric and Amy sound best the more stripped down their sound gets. Last night’s songs with Eric on acoustic and Amy on keys were brilliant. Amy Alison, Mose’s daughter, was the surprise guest and she sounded great. We’re going out of our way to avoid the Super Bowl today.

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Homemade Aeroplane

Ticket to Eric & Amy's Homemade Aeroplane show
Ticket to Eric & Amy’s Homemade Aeroplane show

The Homemade Aeroplane site said we would receive our boarding passes by post and sure enough, on the day before our departure they arrived. Google maps said the journey to the Catskill Aerodrome would take just under four hours but we took the scenic route along Routes 5 & 20.

It was a clear sunny day but dangerous snow had drifted across the road in some of the wide open spots. Our hotel room was on the other side of the river in Hudson so we passed through the town of Catskill on the way, in effect doing a reverse dry run of the hop over the Rip Van Winkle bridge to Amy and Eric’s place later tonight.

A Trip Advisor review of the 139 year old Saint Charles Hotel said, “Don’t do it!” but we tempted fate. It’s a funky old brick building in the center of town that was probably a pretty cool bar in its day. We signed a waiver that said we’d be charged $250 if we smoked in our room and then found the room already smelled like smoke. The floor runs uphill toward the windows too but we’re not complaining.

The show tonight promises a special guest but that’s a secret. I told Duane Sherwood (owner of a beautiful Wreckless Eric painting) we were headed down this way for the show and he said, “Are you sure you are not the special guests?” I am sure of that.

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Subnivium

Peggi cutting handmade soap at Abundance CoOp in Rochester, New York
Peggi cutting handmade soap at Abundance CoOp in Rochester, New York

We were members of Abundance CoOp back in the mid seventies when they located in the old firehouse on Monroe Avenue. We used to have work there for a few hours for the privilege. They might have changed their name since then but they are on the move again. Instead of being tucked away behind KrudCo they’ll have much more visibly on South Avenue. And you’ll have better visibility while you’re shopping as well because the new building has giant windows across the front. If I sound like one of the two thousand shareholders I am and we were there yesterday to take advantage of our once a month 10% off that each member enjoys.

While we were there we picked up a copy of their newsletter, the “Rutabaga Rap,” and learned that at the monthly board meeting they discussed what to do with all their new space. The most popular item on the expansion list was beer. Winter enthusiast, Jack Bradigan Spula has a great article in the newsletter about the subnivium, the vital ecosystem under the snow.

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According To My Junk

Found photo of people, found in our house
Found photo of people, found in our house

We hear they hauled away two dumpsters of stuff from our house before we bought it. The former owner lived alone, he had no relatives here and he had a heart attack in our bedroom. I wish they had just left the stuff here. I kind of like going through junk.

The house was empty when we moved in except for a giant candle, maybe a foot tall and six inches in diameter with a huge wick. We left it burning on our porch one night and reduced it to a small puddle of wax. There was a deer rack mounted over the back door of the garage and we kept that up. There was a pool cue rack on the wall of the basement which we threw out. And beneath a built-in seat in our living room we found a big, cardboard box of photos.

There were five different Kodak, photo business cards of his were in the box so we arranged them chronologically. He looked a lot like they in the photo above but we’re pretty sure that is his father and mother. We were able to piece together his hobbies (going to auto races and shooting telephoto shots of women’s rear ends) and the places he visited (amusement parks with his two kids during his visitation stints). He probably had free film processing so he shot thousands of of bad photos, not even interestingly bad. We filled a garbage bag with them but I did manage to fill a small scrapbook with a strange assortment. Some day maybe someone will piece my life together with my junk.

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Zen & X-Country

Freshly groomed cross-country ski trails in Durand Eastman Park in Rochester, New York
Freshly groomed cross-country ski trails in Durand Eastman Park in Rochester, New York

Donations to the Rochester X-Country Ski Foundation are in order this year. The groomed trails in the parks are the best option for skiing due to the lack of a substantial snowfall that would cushion the trials in the woods. And all that time out in the open covering a vast expanse of open land (golf course) has made us better skiers. When we first started it was clearly a trudge. I would say we skied no faster than we would move through the snow on foot. Then came a slow glide and it was much less effort than walking and we covered more ground. Now we have taken to studying the motion of skiers who ski like you would skate. We mimic them for a few strokes and then stop to marvel at the scenery.

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Galaxie 300

Bowling balls at Park View Bowl on Culver Road in Rochester, New York
Bowling balls at Park View Bowl on Culver Road in Rochester, New York

I’ve read that Rochester used to have more bowling lanes per capita than any other city in the world. Park View Bowl in Sea Breeze might have capitalized on that boom, somewhere in the fifties or sixties, when they busted a hole in the side of their concrete-block building and added a seventh and eighth lane. That’s where they put our crew on Monday night, a perfect spot as we surely would have disrupted the regular’s groove.

Louise wore her Hendrix t-shirt and she and Peggi were the only women in the place other than the owner’s sister who was behind the bar while her brother bowled. But they did have room for us tonight so we each picked out a ball. Louise chose a “Smart Ball.” It was so light it couldn’t fully return on the ramp that brings your ball back. My solid black ball weighed a ton and was labeled “Ebonite.” Peggi chose a blue sparkly ball called “Galaxie 300.” We laughed about that one because Louise’s bother played in a band called “Galaxie 500.” Matthew’s ball was nicknamed “The Hammer.”

One dollar bought three tunes on the juke box. Mine went for the Righteous Brothers, Temptations and Stones. I bought the second pitcher and the owners’s sister started to pour Yuengling. I asked if she could make this one Labatt’s Blue and she gave me a Marlene Dietrich worthy look of exasperation. Earlier, when I asked for size eleven shoes, she said, “I can’t reach those.” Her brother, Kevin, is a sweetie. He tallied up our scores at the end of both games because we none of us could keep score.

Louise tell this story better.

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Three Women

RGE circle on street in front of our house
RGE circle on street in front of our house

You know how it gets in the depth of winter, you don’t see your neighbors for weeks at a time. Well we headed out for a walk the other day and ran into Jared who told us he was just inspecting the work RGE had done in front of Diane’s house. He said Diane had called him to find out if he knew what was going on out there. If I wanted to know what was going on I couldn’t think of a better call to place either. Jared thinks the power company may be preparing to replace the gas lines that run down our street. Or maybe the artists on staff there were charged with brightening up our dreary, grey landscape.

Our red envelope of the week contained “Finding Vivian Maier” and it is just fantastic. It is fantastic because Vivian’s photos are so incredible, in league with Henri Cartier-Bresson, Diane Arbus and Robert Frank but a true original. Working as a nanny and completely unknown as an artist in her lifetime, her treasure trove of negatives could be the greatest garage sale find in history. She was damaged in some way but had finely tuned observation skills. She followed her nose on the street and brought back an extraordinary record of of what it’s like to be human.

Diana Vreeland is a dynamo. I knew next to nothing about her other than her name and that Warhol probably did a portrait of her. Seems like she was always in Interview magazine but I just never caught up with her until this documentary, “Diana Vreeland: The Eye Has to Travel.” Vreeland was a first rate creative artist. OK, she wasn’t the best mother. The movie is exhilerating.

While I’m reading “Kansas City Lightning” Peggi finished “Joni Mitchell – In Her Own Words” by Malka Marom and that led to another viewing of “Joni Mitchell – Woman of Heart and Mind: A Life Story” in which the author of the book makes an appearance. I was knocked out by “Ladies of the Canyon” and still love it to this day. “Circle Game” is one of the songs I’d put on a playlist for my funeral. And I enjoyed the way Joni scolded the audience here when she opened for Dylan in 1998. Performances like that stick with you.

It might be time for another screening of Altman’s “Three Women.”

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Bowling And Art

Park View Bowl on Culver Road in Sea Breeze
Park View Bowl on Culver Road in Sea Breeze

Matthew’s company car, a hybrid, lost its charge in Syracuse so our bowling date was cancelled or rather postponed until last night. But the eight lanes at Park View Bowl were all occupied with a women’s league when we got there. The idea contained in the name of a view of the park (Durand Eastman) while you’re bowling is crazy. We had a drink at the bar and I returned Matthew’s “Speaking of Art: Four decades of art in conversation” book. I wanted to show Louise this quote from Nancy Spero, Leon Golub’s wife and one of the artists in the book, but there wasn’t enough light at the bar for her to see it.

“There’s a basic risk in the practice of art itself, in that it’s something that’s not wanted particularly by society. Only a few understand the need for this innocence in a culture, and yet it is the artifact of a culture in the final sense of the word.”

And I thought this one from Ed Ruscha was nice especially because he found common ground between his work and Morandi’s. “One of my favourite artists is Giorgio Morandi, and he painted the same picture for all of his life and did it very well. He fulfilled his destiny without doing any of this pushing into new frontiers. So pushing into a new frontier is not a necessity for any artist. But unless it’s done by someone, things end up at a standstill.”

The night was young so we moved down the road to the Reunion, another bar we had never set foot in. Sea Breeze apparently used to have a small shop that supplied the word with clown shoes and sure enough there was one over the bar. They have a print of Goya’s “Naked Maja” in an ornate frame and a sign that looked vintage but used contemporary jargon. “Wine. How classy people get wasted.” We pumped dollar bills into the juke box and played three games of 8-Ball on the pool table. We were both good and bad.

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Cobbs Hill 2000

Not really sure what year this is so we’ll call it 2000. Steve Black was in town from Singapore with his pre-digital movie equipment and Margaret Explosion was a skeleton crew. In case you are not from around here Cobbs Hill is the gravitational center of Rochester, New York.

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Circumstances

Paul Dodd "Model From Crime Page G" 2015
Paul Dodd “Model From Crime Page G” 2015

Beefheart’s “Circumstances” has been stuck in my head all night. Click here and could be stuck in yours’. It’s not like I heard it recently or anything. It just popped in.

I started this drawing this afternoon and finished in class. It still has a searching, coming into being feel. I like that and find the early, rough stages of my drawings the most exciting but at that stage there is usually structural problems or rethinking at the very least. If I tried to clean this one up I would kill it. These are the circumstances.

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