Joe Bean Coffee Roasters on University Avenue in Rochester, New York
The atmosphere and service at Joe Bean Roasters on University Avenue are laid back which is something I didn’t expect considering their product. They are artisan roasters and craft brewers. You can choose from about ten different preparations but we chose the single pour method and watched as our barista weighed the beans on a drug dealer’s scale, ground them and slipped the grounds into a single serving sized paper cone while the water boils on a burner in hands reach of the seats at the bar. The glass pots of fresh brew are placed, Japanese style, on a small board alongside a ceramic cup which we were able to fill three times while we chatted with Mike, the owner. The place feels a bit like the opium den Robert DeNiro visited in “Once Upon a Time in America.”
Author Sonja Livingston speaking at the downtown Rochester library
Grand Avenue, Leighton Avenue, Bowman Street, Upper and Lower East Main Street and Lamont Place. Sonja Livingston glanced at the list of streets that surrounded our old house in the city. I had jotted them down as I read her book, “Ghostbread“, and Peggi had opened it to that same blank page in the front of the book in order to have Sonja sign our copy. It is interesting to me that so much of her bleak and beautiful memoir took place on the streets of our old neighborhood.
Sonja had a packed house at the downtown library on Super Bowl Sunday. Standing room only. Her husband, painter Jim Mott, manned the merchandise table and sold every copy of the book they brought. We’ve given copies of her book to a few people as gifts and we learned from the question/comment session that many others had done the same. The book is that moving.
Sonja read from “Ghostbread” but she read too fast. Even though the chapters are short I wanted her to linger over them and so I could savor their beauty. She had many in the crowd tell her how much this book meant to them, some were people who grew up with her, and it was all quite emotional. There were publishing and craft-like questions from other writers which Sonja handled with charming efficiency and I was thinking, “Can’t you see? This woman is a natural.” But what do I know. I can’t even spell. She said she hoped we realize that people in poverty are just like you and me in every other way.
Brian Peterson studio door in the Hungerford Building in Rochester, New York
First Friday’s art crawl is sometimes rewarding and sometimes not but it is always entertaining. When the art fails to engage the conversation always picks up the slack. We ducked in and out of art spaces on three floors of the Hungerford Building staying the longest in Brian Peterson’s studio looking at his assemblages the shortest at Heather Erwin’s space where some sort of reading was going on to a packed house. We heard she had been temporarily locked out of Facebook for some controversial posting about her show. Doesn’t fb know Heather is keeping them in business in this town? The RIT show at the R gallery on College Avenue was interesting in that the student work looked better than the faculty work in most cases. And over at RoCo it was nice to see that Robert Marx had sold approximately $20,000 worth of paintings. Rochester likes his work for reasons that I don’t quite understand.
Artists talks are not for the faint of heart. We bravely attended one at the new I-Square gallery last night where four artists talked about their work and so much more. It was exhilarating. Richard Harvey talked mostly of process but his is multifaceted and interesting. Wendy Menzie started making art after primal therapy in the 70’s. She quoted Philip Larken, “Your mom and dad fuck you up. They don’t mean to but they do” and spoke of her journey back to the child inside. Ed Buscemi stressed the importance of improvisation and relayed a dream he had thirty years ago where people were moving by him on a conveyor belt and he jumped on and tried to shake the people but he couldn’t bring them out of their trance. It seems to be his modus operandi. He is fond of asking “Are you kidding me?” in an animated fashion and he admitted to being hooked on conspiracy therories. Todd Beers discussed his breakthrough painting which is on view until tomorrow and told a beautiful story of his encounter with a dove on the fire escape he was sleeping on. He dimmed the lights and wowed us with his poetry. Harvey, Menzie and Buscemi all studied with Robert Marx who has his own opening tonight at Rochester Contemporary. He is featured in their Makers Mentors show.
We scurried downtown for the Ossia show at Kilbourn Hall but missed the opening toy piano number. We caught “I Can’t Concentrate” by the Brooklyn band, Zs, a mathematically challenging, post jazz, brutal-chamber piece. And then were blown away (again) by Ossia’s performance of Frederic Rzewski’s “Coming Together.” From the liner notes – “The work consists of a bass line accompanied by a series of instructions which can be realized by any group of instruments. With each performer acting as composer, the work allows for a variety of performance outcomes and is essentially an experiment in compositional anarchy.” A vocalist read a letter from Sam Melville-in prison in 1970 for series of radical bombings in Manhattan where no one was hurt-to his brother on top of the music. The twenty minute piece was trance-like and hallucinatory like a deep dream.
Alberto Giacometti Walking Man II (L’Homme qui marche II) at the Johnson Museum in Ithaca New York
Whenever I catch a glimpse of myself while walking by a building with reflective glass I’m always taken aback by how bent over I look. And we were really slumped over yesterday as we climbed the big hill up to the Cornell campus in Ithaca.
The guard at the Johnson Museum yesterday was downright chatty. We were admiring Giacometti’s “Walking Man II (L’Homme qui marche II)” when he offered that this piece was the most expensive one in the collection, worth over a hundred million in fact. I said, “You better make sure no one walks into it and he said “Someone already did.” “A women backed into it while she was taking a photo.” He showed us a slight crack in one of the legs setting the alarm off as he pointed to it. I had just seen a sign that said “No Photos” so I asked if it was ok to take photos and said it was ok to photograph the permanent collection but not the work on loan or the work that is usually in storage but temporarily on display. I really wanted a photo of the Otto Dix etching called “Self Portrait with Cigarette” (also in MoMA collection) but that was off limits so I took one of Walking Man and got the Otto Dix print in the background.
Paul Dodd “Model From Crime Page” 2012 charcoal on paper
After painting class last night the talk centered around critical thinking and the lack of it. I was trying to imagine any other kind of thinking.
My drawing above was characterized as “academic” and I would agree with that. Adequate but not particularly expressive. I set out to do some rather quick sketches on craft paper and realized that quick or not the same criteria applies to any piece. The effort must work as a whole so the focus is the same.
Beige house with Let It Snow banner in the window Rochester, New York
We always have a January thaw but this is ridiculous. We finally get a few inches of sow and now it’s 50 degrees and sunny, too messy to walk or ski in the woods so we headed off toward the bay. This house with the “Let It Snow” banner in the window expressed our sentiments exactly.
My aunt is in hospice and my father was thinking it would be nice to get someone up there to play some music for her. Of course we suggested Phil Marshall, a music therapist and genuine top shelf musician. My aunt is going to suggest a few songs and I’m certain it will be great.
Years back we did a “My Funeral“print version of the Refrigerator I remember thinking about a few songs that I would like to her at my own funeral and of course that doesn’t make any sense at all because I will be in a little can at that point. Peggi Lee “Is That All There Is?”, George Jones “He Stopped Loving Her Today”, Joni Mitchell’s “Circle Game”, Eric Dolphy’s “Serene or maybe James Brown’s “Night Train.” I’m pretty sure no one would want to hear the long version of Sun Ra’s “Space Is The Place.”
When my brother’s father in law died the funeral home had his body in a closed cassket and they wheeled him into a room where we were all sitting and they played Sinatra’s “My Way” over the little speakers mounted in the ceiling without any introduction or set up and it was a very strange experience. He was a lot more fun than that. So there are a lot details to work out if you want pull off something like this. It has to be done in a party atmosphere for starters.
Roman soldier with sword and babies, Gaudi Sagrada Familia, Barcelona
To protect his thrown King Herod ordered the execution of all young male children in Bethlehem when he heard that Jesus was born. Like most of the episodes in the bible it is highly unlikely that this ever happened but it makes a good story and the Catholic church put these stories, most of them borrowed from mythology, to good use in an effort to win converts, keep the converted and illustrate their moral superiority. These innocents were the first martyrs. There is no one more revered in the church than a martyr. Of course when times got tough the Catholic Inquisitors resorted to “Convert or Die” methods themselves.
I used to know most of these bible (new testament included) stories but they all got jumbled up with age. These days I only set foot in church for funerals or when I’m drawn into an ancient cathedral in Spain. But I’m thankful for all the heady times in Catholic school where they struggled to convince me of the most absurd dogmas (virgin birth, resurection). The experience was formative and I look back fondly on most of it. Thankfully the church used it’s money to hire the best artists in history to illustrate their myths so I have a deep appreciation of religious art, a lot of it Spanish from the golden age (Siglo de Oro).
Last night after dinner we were showed our Spain photos to my parents. Both my father and I called our digital photos “slides” when I brought them up on our tv. Kodak did that to us. When the stone carvings, above, on the Nativity side of Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia, came up Peggi and I speculated aloud on what was being depicted. I thought maybe it was an archangel protecting the babies but my father thought for a bit and correctly identified it as the “Massacre of the Innocents”. So I can’t blame age for not remembering this. It was really my bad study habits.
Every mark matters. They must contribute value not deflate worth.
One must be committed and focused yet totally open to proceed.
People like interesting things not just well executed things.
The value, the commitment and the interest must all be on the page.
Dr. Carl Atkins playing Bye-Ya at the Baobab Cultural Center in Rochester, New York
I had the best tofu I have ever had at Edibles on University Ave. It was marinated in a ginger sauce and grilled in some fashion that left it moist and soft on the inside but slightly charred on the outside with a caramelized sauce. We had dinner with our neighbors before heading down the street to the Baobab Cultural Center where noted Jazz authority, saxophonist, and RIT Professor, Dr. Carl Atkins and his group, “Culture Clash” gave a lecture lecture-performance. He was Co-Director, along with bassist Ron Carter, of the Thelonious Monk Institute. He led a very cool group of bass, drums and vibes and w would up with, “Epistrophy” and “Ruby, My Dear” and “Well, You Needn’t” swimming around in our heads. That led us to YouTube this morning where watched and listened to main ingredient. And then we dug up dvd copy of “Straight, No Chaser” that Jeff Munson gave us. That’s now number one in our queue.
Two kinds of tortilla in case at El Glop in Barcelona
Remember the Chevy Nova? Peggi had an orange one when I first met her. We drove it all the way to the bottom of Mexico. Terrible name for a car in a Spanish speaking country. “No go!” “El Glop” is not the best name for attracting English speaking people to your restaurant and maybe that was the whole idea. We had coffee there and some tortilla and then returned for dinner. The place was fantastic.
We’ve been savoring our Barcelona hangover, pouring over photos, having our big meal early like they do in Spain, getting up late and buying Spanish products at Wegmans like Manchego and Valdeon cheese, caramelized pecans and chocolate covered figs. We’re almost as bad as the kid in “Breaking Away” who thought he was Italian. Peggi’s reading the Spanish version of Architectural Digest that we bought at the airport as I write this. A good snowstorm would snap us out of this but I don’t think this winter has it in it.
Last night we made fish with a mushroom and fig sauce, something we had twice in Barcelona, once with cod and once with hake. And the other night we made a batch of Espinacas con Garbanzos, something we went looking for in Spain because we’d fallen in love with it. Spinach, chick peas, paprika, saffron and cumin, it almost tastes Indian or maybe Moroccan. We found a recipe online.
Our iPad has become an essential kitchen appliance. I loved Thomas Friedman’s column the other day on how a tablet at the table in restaurants will allow you to put your order through to the kitchen, list ingredients with photos, tally your calories and pay your bill without a waiter. He left out the part about how your food gets to the table but it will take a big bite out of the service industry which has become the backbone of our economy. Our friend, Kevin Vicalvi, used to say, “In the future we’ll all be delivering pizzas to one another” but that was a long time ago.
Bench in Durand Eastman Park at the top of the luge hill.
I not sure but I think this is a bootleg bench chained to a tree at the top of the luge hill in Durand Eastman Park. Not as brazen an act as Anthony Pilato driving a bulldozer through the undeveloped part of the park so he could ride his horses up there but still pretty bold. The bench doesn’t look like any of the others in the park. It’s the kind you could buy at Home Depot and it’s in the same spot as the makeshift bench that was placed here when the luge fans were out last year (and then hidden behind a tree when they went home).
There is a metal plaque nailed to the bench that reads, “In Loving Memory of Elizabeth Salathiel 1921-2009 From The USA Luge Team.” I looked her up. She’s for real or was for 87 years. This is the same hill where we used to see the man child, nick-named “Mayor of Durand.” He’d sit at the top and drink Genny’s from the can between occasional sled runs. Haven’t seen him in a few years but there is quite a crew here when the weather is right and plenty of regulars who we say hi to as we ski by. I’ve seen some of them videoing their ride and I found this clip online.
Amy Rigby and Wreckless Eric at the Lovin’ Cup in Rochester, New York
Wreckless Eric and Amy Rigby have taken a liking to Rochester. They’ve been here four times in the last few years and came up tonight to play a benefit for Tom Kohn and the Bop Shop. Amy told the crowd that when they decided to move from France they considered considered moving to Rochester but Eric interjected “it would have been a good choice if it wasn’t for the weather and it’s proximity to Canada and the the fact that it is so far away from everything else.” “It’s better than France” Amy insisted.
They played a fantastic set. They are perfect as a duo, with piano, guitars, bass and harmonies. Thoroughly seasoned performers they somehow manage to sound like the first band your friends put together. If only they would fire that drummer, the drum machine on Eric’s laptop that flattens the songs they use it on. They finished with a beautiful version of Johnny Cash’s “I Still Miss Someone.
Chandler Travis opened the show before driving to Trumansburg outside of Ithaca for another gig tonight. He brought the house down with a version of Pete LaBonne‘s “Turning The Page.” Amy told the the crowd she felt like she was tripping when Chandler and his bandmates came out into the crowd to perform this gem a cappella.
Here’s a live version of Pete LaBonne’s “Turning The Page”
East and West Irondequoit have separate school systems, separate libraries (for now) and separate Wegmans. Kings Highway, the Goodman Street extension, serves as a moat or wall between the two. They share a town hall and lake frontage but there is not much lateral movement between the two. Neither of us can go any further north unless by boat so most of the movement is toward the city and back.
We did some gallery sitting in the I-Square gallery yesterday and it got me thinking about the divide. Mike Nolan, the entrepreneur responsible for developing the future “four corners” of Irondequoit, now called I-Square, lives on the dividing line and is donating this empty storefront gallery space to the community. Most of the funky little shops in this old strip mall will have new homes in his revision although the consignment shop where we took many of Peggi’s mom’s furniture pieces has moved around the corner.
Mike stopped in the gallery before he headed down to Murph’s for a meeting and Peggi noted we had never been to Murph’s. We asked his co-worker if the food was any good. She hesitated and said, “They have good wings and I hear their fish fry is pretty good.” That wetted our appitite so we walked down there when our stint was up. I expected to see Armand at the bar with the locals but he wasn’t there. Everyone seems to know one another in here and it’s strangely comfortable but the fish fry was nasty, three quarters of it deep fried batter, at least, and it was hard to separate the fish from the batter like we usually do. There was a sign above us advertising “25 Wings and a Pitcher of LaBatt’s Blue” for twenty dollars. And classic rock and tv monitors tuned to some sort of lottery in the middle of the afternoon is depressing.
Barbara Fox art work entitled “Close Observations 3” at the Dean’s Gallery at Rochester Institute of Technology
I remember seeing the Young Rascals at RIT’s downtown campus. It seemed like a pretty cool spot but then they moved the school out to windswept, god forsaken Henrietta. I really don’t like going out there but I make exceptions all the time like yesterday afternoon for the opening of Barbara Fox’s show of new paintings on paper. We had quite a time finding the Booth building. Didn’t see any signs labeling one as such and asked a student for help. She said she had no idea where it was but it turned out we were standing right in front of it.
Barbara told us her husband trimmed the wysteria in front of their home and she brought the clippings into her studio to draw them. Barbara starts these big paintings with a very loose, gestural application of gesso and then draws in charcoal or Conti crayon before working in oil. Some also included ink and they are all very beautiful. So dress warm and see if you can find the Booth building. This show is the perfect antidote for our wimpy winter.
My punishment for going away is that I have to wade through and catalog all of the photos I took. We watched this guy for a while, waiting for the light to turn red and then darting out in front of the stopped cars to juggle for a minute and then hit the drivers up for money. Better than someone spitting on your windshield and then using a dirty rag to wipe it before accosting you for spare change.
Listen to Margaret Explosion “Juggler” with Jack Schaefer on bass clarinet
Margaret Explosion 45 RPM “Juggler/Purple Heart” (EAR 16) on Earring Records, released 2011 on black vinyl.
Back just in time for winter and last night’s art opening at I-Square at the future four corners of Irondequoit. I have a few pieces in a show with Wendie Menzie, Ed Buscemi, Todd Beers and Richard Harvey. That’s Richard Harvey’s work shown to the left of mine in the photo above. It was a cool little gathering with coffee and homemade sweets. Peggi made ginger snaps with cayenne pepper following Shelley’s recipe.
We met I-Square developer, Mike Nolan, and our friend Charlie’s little sister. It gave me the opportunity to tell her the story Charlie told me of their other sister taking the ring off a famous dead man’s finger. I told the story to Chuck Cuminale and he wrote a song about it for Colorblind James. Charlie and Chuck are both dead now and Charlie’s sister had no idea there was song about all this.
Poet and artist, Todd Beers, said he gets all fired up at openings and can’t wait to get back and start work on something. I told him openings have exactly the opposite effect on me. Todd said he saw Peggi and me in my two portraits and he a sang a line from an old song of ours.
Tapas, Pinchos or Pintxos, Raciones or whatever you want to call the small portions of prepared food that are offered in every café/bar (cafés seamlessly meld into or double as bars) in Spain should have caught on here by now. I really don’t understand why the concept has not taken hold. Are there U.S. Heath Department rules against serving food this way or something? It seems like the very definition of civilization to walk into a place, say Hola, and order something from the glass cases on the counter. Sharing a small dish over conversation and a coffee or making a meal of three or four portions with a glass of wine or beer is a no-brainer, tried and true, money-making concept but I have yet to see anyone pull it off in the States. Octopus salad with black olives! Come on.
We walked by the Circ Raluy tents a few times in the last week before deciding to buy a couple of tickets. We waited in line with families, kids with their grandparents and other couples for about a half hour before they opened the gates to the big tent in grand fashion with music from Nino Roto’s “Amarcord” soundtrack blaring from the sound system. I take back what I said last week about animal abuse in the circus. I mean it may still be the case but this circus had no animals, only clowns, jugglers, acrobats and some amazing entertainers. We realized the clowns are not just some fluff between the acts, they are the real meat of the circus. They play to the kids but get to the kid in all of us. They won us over. I do remember the clowns being my favorite part when I was kid but I guess I forgot.
Certain songs transcend pop and work as international soundtracks. Bowie’s “Heroes” sounded like a million dollars in a café. Madonna sounded good spilling out of a clothing store and onto the street. Blondie’s “Heart of Glass” sounded great in the bakery. Michael Jackson sound’s good anywhere. And T Rex’s “Bang A Gong” sounded fantastic on a bus this morning in Barcelona. Margaret Explosion has to work on its International chops.
