Nobody knows for sure but it is generally accepted that Christ was born between 6 BC and 4 BC, the year in which King Herod died. This makes the whole AD, BC timeline a bit suspect. For instance in ten days we will be ringing in the year 2028, 29 or 30 AD. And when Christ became famous enough the powers that be planted his birth day near the winter solstice.
We picked the last of our collards and kale before the snow fell and brought home a big bag of arugula and lettuce. This fall has been unusually warm but the solstice will arrive on schedule and we plan to celebrate. I’m down with the Mayans who saw winter solstice as a time of renewal and rebirth.
It seemed Steve could do anything. He was our hero when we lived together in Bloomington and he still is today in our minds. He did these drawings in my art pads and I hung onto them. We’d like to think we’re worldly while Steve is otherworldly.
Corrine, Gary, Peggi and Kevin in our backyard on Dartmouth Street
I have a flat file drawer labeled “Stuff to Save” that I have stuffed stuff to its limit. I took everything out. I’m at an age where I should be throwing most things out so this will be time consuming. I came across an old photo from Martin’s wedding. Pat Mosch looked so thin. Sitting next to him was Brian Horton, Ted Williams and Sue Schepp. Only Pat remains.
We ran into Brenda down by the lake today. She lives farther away than we do so we were sort of impressed. She’s only baking at Atlas Eats three days a week now as the owners are cutting back on the hours. Peggi congratulated her and said, “People are dropping all around us.”
Dee Generate, 15 year old drummer for Eater. Photo by Corrine Meiji Patrick
Corrine recently joined that club. Last time we saw here was in the Fifth Avenue Apple where she worked. When we first met her she was working Rochester One Stop, supplying djs and the local record shops. She worked for my uncle at the 12 Corners Super Duper for a while. Corrine was a great photographer, even worked for Varden Studios here as their touch-up artist. She taught me how to push film speeds beyond their limit and gave us some gorgeous photos of early Patti Smith in low light. Her father installed a hot water tank in our house. Brought it down in the basement by himself.
Corrine and Kevin spent some time in London when it was the center of the universe. I’m sure she charmed Dee Generate, the drummer Eater before taking this shot. She was good at that and just as good at calling out bullshit. She was one of a kind.
“DWI and Florida” billboard on Main and Hall Street in Rochester, New York
I remember going downtown with my mother, driving through the old Can of Worms when she said, “I wish they could get rid of these billboards. They are such an eyesore.” I laughed and told her I like them. I can see them getting out of hand but I still like them. They are a great distraction while you’re driving. I remember first being wowed by them behind the home run fence at Red Wing Stadium on Norton.
“Dirty Moore Beef Stew” billboard on Main and Hall Street in Rochester, New York
When we lived in city we had what I thought of as minor league billboards. At the end of our street. They were small and positioned on buildings with only moderate traffic out front. I assume the business owners rented their rooftop or wall space. How many extra cans of Dinty Moore Stew do think Wegmans sold after this campaign?
“Virgin Mary Speaks” billboard on Main and Hall Street in Rochester, New York
I took these photos more than twenty years ago. I wish I had taken more. It was always a treat when they changed them. I remember calling the Virgin’s 800 number back then and I took a chance that that would still be active today. I didn’t get to hear the Virgin but someone promised they would send materials about sightings of the Virgin if I left my name and number.
“Keep Christ in Christmas” billboard on Main and Hall Street in Rochester, New YorkLeave a comment
Norm Ladd, Pam, Simon and Joy in Miami airport. Peggi is seen standing behind.
Sometime in the late seventies, by chance, we ran into Norm and Pam at the Miami airport. They and their young family were headed to Jamaica. I lived with Norm and Pam and babysat (changed diapers) for their son, Simon, in exchange for my rent. And before that I lived in the trailer that Pam’s dad owned with Pam and Steve and Dave and at times, Rich, Jeff, Brad, Joe, and Norm (when he was home on leave.) I was there with Pam when her father, Harold, came down from Indianapolis with the trailer in tow and backed it into lot #10 on Monon Drive. We lived rent free for a while but had to pitch in on lot rental, around dollars a month. We unplugged the electric meter and ran it backwards in the weeks leading up to meter reading so our bill was close to nothing. We had the luxury of leaving the oven on with the door open in the winter.
I was trying to remember how I met Pam but I can’t come up with the connection. She was really sweet and had the best smile. We met in Bloomington where we both had either dropped out or were dropping out of IU. Pam came to visit me at my parents’ home for the July 4th weekend in 1970. I introduced her to my friend, Norm. They fell in love, immediately. They were married shortly thereafter. Pam passed away a few days ago..
Norm was two years behind me in high school. He lived near us and our mothers were friends. When I was a freshman, living in the dorm, Norm’s mom called me to say Norm had run away and he was headed out to stay with me. He stayed about a week and then returned to Rochester. Norm died in 2021.
“Trailer Tales” by Owen Cash. Front cover illustration by Paul Dodd.
We talked with our Bloomington friends after Pam’s death and Rich asked if I wanted the artwork I did for his 1973 book, “Trailer Tales.” I painted a fictional illustration of the trailer we lived in with Rich playing sax on the roof. And I see the electric meter is in there. Rich got around Bloomington by bicycle, as we all did in those days, but he was the only one with a typewriter in tow. While we were sitting around he was banging out pages. The title page in his book reads “This book was written for the china boys and anybody else who can live in a mobile home. Copyright 1973. Cover titles, painting, inspiration – Moan-On Studios/Paul Dodd.” We were all characters in the book but the facts were all changed. Mae Sachs character was based on Peggi, Paoli Todd was based on me. Here’s an excerpt:
“Rudy had spent a great deal of time trying to figure out MD. Dave Mahoney’s success on the saxophone and his final conclusion was that the old man was able to play his instrument, solely because he believed he could do it.
This idea was further reinforced when Rudy viewed a movie, “The Music Man” in which a con-artist band leader supplies the town’s children with instruments and uniforms and they are able (at the end of the film) to play despite NO lessons. They believed they were a marching band and they became one.
Therefore, Rudy believed the most important thing to make his band become a band was to treat everyone as if they were an accomplished musician and for everyone to treat the band as a working entity. ‘Think Band and The Band Will Zen You’ was Rudy’s motto.”
Steve, Dave, Rich and Paul at Barb and Roc’s wedding in Indianapolis 1972. The infamous Chinaboise group photo by Peggi Fournier.
The photo above was taken by Peggi at Barb and Roc’s wedding in Indianapolis 1972. It is reproduced in Rich’s book with this caption: “Four of the Zen-Men at a table at La Hacienda Night Club. L. to R. Edgar LaChoy, Sam Filigree Rudy, and Paoli Todd. Photo taken in 1961 by nightclub photo-girl.” Rich was in the process of putting the Chinaboise together when Peggi and I left Bloomington. We had banged out a few versions “Self Conscience Pisser” in the back room of the trailer before leaving town. Rich recorded an instrumental version of the song with his next band, MX-80 Sound. When we talked he told us he had just received a big royalty check for streams of SCP from Russia! Check out MX-80’s “Self Conscious Pisser.”
Portrait of Rich Stim by Steve Hoy 1972
After Pam died we talked to Kim. We talked to Brad. We talked to Rich and Andrea and we talked to Steve. Steve told us he looks at every day as gift.
Two drawings from Peter Monacelli’s “Aaron Manor” eBook
Scans always need some work. Straightening, cropping, color correction and scaling. And then the page layout required serious concentration and any automated trick I could come up with. It reminded me of the old days when we were coding pages in html. Tasks that required endless stick-to-itiveness. Carpal tunnel would set in. To scale a few hundred images I copy/pasted the desired width dimension, hit tab, tab to the X dimension, hit the zero key, tab to Y, hit zero again and then Return. I sounded like I was doing drum rudiments.
I asked for it by offering to create three eBooks from the drawings Pete did while in confinement, a six month stretch of hospital stays and then rehab. Through poking, proding and procedures, pain medications and torturous healing techniques Pete continued to draw (and I sound like I’m complaining). Confined to a bed, Pete filled three small sketch books before his triumphant release. The two drawings above were created just days apart. They are so animated they jump off the page. Please download Pete’s free “Aaron Manor” eBook here.
“Cord in corner” Giclée print from “Portals & Planes: Pictures by Paul Dodd”
The clerk in the clothing store was sitting in the corner of the small shop. We were in Merida for our nephew’s wedding and they paint walls there in colors that are not in our vocabulary. In this case both of the walls leading to the corner were beautiful. And, of course, there is that black cord in the corner, an electric line that would not be up to code in the U.S. I waited for Peggi to take something to the dressing before asking the clerk if I could move the table in order to take this photo. I didn’t have enough Spanish to express this so I mostly used gestures. The photo was in my “Portals & Planes” show. It didn’t sell so I put it in the RoCo Members Show which opens tonight.
Painting in the collection of Centro Andaluz de Arte Contemporaneo
We’ve been back almost three weeks now but we’re still wading through the notes, photos, books, gallery pamphlets and holy cards we brought back. This painting has stuck with me. It was in the collection of the Contemporary Art Museum in Sevilla. I immediately thought of the Richard Serra oil stick drawings/paintings and Malevech and Ellsworth Kelly but I didn’t recognize the name of the artist. I should have written it down so I could credit them but here it is.
The Centro Andaluz de Arte Contemporaneo in Sevilla is a special place. After the conquest of Seville by Christians in the 13th century the Monasterio de Santa Maria de las Cuevas was built here. The chapel and crypts have been restored. Allegedly, Christopher Columbus spent some time in the monastery in preparation for his voyages. In the 15th century the archbishop of Seville, aided by the noble family of Medina, founded a Franciscan monastery at the site. In the early 19th century, the monastery was sacked and used as barracks during the Napoleonic invasion. In 1840 a Liverpool merchant bought the abandoned monastery and transformed it into a factory of ceramic tiles. Several towering ovens were built around the monastery and still stand. The factory closed in 1982. The site was restored for Seville Expo’92 and in 1997 it became the spectacular setting for a museum of contemporary art.
The building Rochester Contemporary (RoCo) is in used to be a women’s clothing store.
There is a neighborhood behind the Reina Sofia in Madrid called Lavapiés, a Jewish ghetto some 500 years ago, where small but hip galleries having been popping up for a few years. We usually make a point of visiting them and on the way there we came across this shop. I knew I had photographed it before (ten years ago) but I took another picture anyway. I love the lettering in their logo. You don’t see this typography very often and you never run across it in the US.
I fell in love with it the first time I saw it. It was only four letters, a sign in Barcelona that read “SEBA.” I sketched the four letters in my notebook and back home I drew what I imagined would be the dozen letters in the word, REFRIGERATOR. We’ve come across other examples of this font, always as a logo and always in Spain, and I have six or seven examples in a folder of jpegs.
I always wondered how long graffiti lasted. The three big tags on the orange panels are still here. And I thought it was Interesting that the Kodak logo made a comeback is in the newer shot.
Refrigerator lettering on shop in Madrid 20131 Comment
When Jack isn’t too busy at the Bagel Shop he joins Margaret Explosion on bass clarinet or guitar. We were hoping he could make it on Wednesday because Peggi was unable to play. The Explosion without Margaret. I distracted Peggi while we were walking and she fell and broke her little finger. That digit and the surrounding mechanism is essential for playing soprano sax.
We have always played the same way regardless of who can make it but this was different. Melissa, who was unable to make the last gig, was there, thankfully, so her cello became a focal point for most songs. Phil’s guitar stole the show in the one below. I was tempted to say we were an instrumental band for the night, like one of those Play Along With records, but we are always an instrumental band. Peggi’s sax playing is our voice and we missed her.
Song number 10 from 11.22.23 Margaret Explosion performance with PeggiLeave a comment
Chuck Cuminale playing catch at Earring Picnic in Durand Eastman Park mid 1980s
The other day, just down the road from where this picture was taken, we ran into Bob Begy walking his dog in the park. Bob was good friends with Chuck and he asked us if we had ever seen the alternate version of the Bible that Chuck wrote in high school. Bob said he had a copy somewhere in his house that he had been trying to locate. We told him we’ll borrow it when he does.
Chuck was a poet. I walked away thinking of his “Wedding at Cana,” a song Colorblind James played at my sister’s wedding.
“The wedding party had just begun People getting lose and having fun Til Mary overheard the father of the bride In a panic ’cause they had run out of wine
Mary said, “Son, they have no wine” Mary said, “Son, they have no wine” He said, “I can’t help that Mom, it’s not my time” Mary said, “Son, they have no wine”
Mary told the waiter, “Do what he tells you Take what he gives you and buy what he sells you Listen to him once and listen to him twice Don’t ignore any of his advice”
Well, even Jesus was smiling now He always liked to help out anyhow He said, “I’ll need seven buckets, all in a row All of ’em filled with H2O”
The waiter was gone for ten minutes or so And then he came back, just like he was told He said, “Here’s your seven buckets, all in line” Jesus said, “That’s not water, it’s wine”
Just then a man walked by with a frown on his face Saying, “Suppose that I might have a taste?” Mary winked and said she thought he could So he drank a cup and said, “Boy, that’s good”
He said, “Most people serve the good wine first And as the night wears on, the wine gets worse But you certainly have shown a lot of class You’ve saved the best wine for last”
Jesus told the waiter, “Don’t say a word About what you’ve seen and what you’ve heard” The waiter agreed and he tried hard too But by the very next day, the whole town knew”
A little girl was handing out programs to each person who came through the door at the Firemen’s Exempt yesterday. I put it in my pocket. The place was packed and we were immediately involved in conversation. We were there to celebrate the life of Sue Schepp who passed away too soon. How often do potters get silicosis? One study revealed that among a tested group of 106 pottery workers, 55% had at least some stage of Silicosis. Sue had her own kiln and made beautiful dishes for everyone we know.
We met Chris in the late seventies. He was working at Midtown Printing on the second floor of Midtown Plaza behind Midtown Records and we were just starting to play out as Hi-Techs. Chris printed our posters at first and later designed them. He created many of the covers for The Refrigerator. Chris and Sue were married in this same place thirty five years ago. We were there. It was a perfect match of yin and yang. Sue was a Buddhist and grew up in a commune. John Cage and M.C. Escher were family friends.
Chris and Sue’s daughter, Celeste opened the tributes and hours later there was so much more to say. Sue was “a loving energy.” I read the program this morning and it stopped me in my tracks.
“Is it possible to just be here and be nothing special at all? With no need to be special, no need to stand apart, to just be comfortable with how one is? What a peaceful world it would be if people could just feel comfortable being nothing at all. To be no one special, with no need to out-maneuver, to strategize, to protect or defend, to resist which all comes out of upholding some image of being something.
It really seems so simple and yet people continue to strive endlessly. … In actuality, we are so much more than these thoughts about ourselves. We are life, we are this life force that runs through all life, this energy of aliveness, which gets constricted with all these thoughts about ourselves being this enclosed thing. … As human beings, when all this conditioned thought or image-making activity slows down or is not the dominating force, there is this vulnerability, a loving energy, a warmth, that can be felt. And that may be the only profound impact that we can have in the world, when there is no striving, achieving, upholding. In that, there is true love and compassion for how one is, here and everywhere.”
My cousin, Greg, playing guitar with Peggi on Hall Street in Rochester
Tidied up my desk this morning. I still have one with a desktop computer. I have a drawing table too from my mechanical art days. All old school. I sorted the piles of oddball items that cover the entire surface and found a small piece of paper with my cousin’s last phone number on it. It wasn’t his direct line. He was living in a home out west and a monitor would answer the phone and pass it to him. I’m throwing this number away because Greg passed away over the summer.
Greg was the same age as me. We are always pictured together in the extended family photos. He was abused by a soon to be priest at our summer camp. His family (my mother’s sister) lived behind us on the next block. We double-dated in high school and even went out with the same girl twice (two different girls, two different times). He went to McQuaid, the Jesuit high school, and his parents threw a graduation party for him with all the aunts and uncles. Alone in the kitchen Greg said “Don’t tell anyone but I didn’t graduate. This is my parents’ idea – a sham.”
Greg had Tourette Syndrome with a variety of facial ticks and sometimes full body contortions. For a while he felt compelled to do a full turn, like a figure skater, every few steps he took. And he suffered from bi-polar disease or whatever they call it today. Wild mood swings and notions that festered. He would remain hyper focused on a slight and torture his parents. But mostly, when we saw him he was up, observant of the finest details, inquisitive and sharp. He was one of the funniest people I ever knew when he was on a roll.
He worked at Gray Metal in Webster across the street from Maracle industrial Finishing where I worked for year. We’d meet at lunch and go out at night. He and his first wife bought a house near Peggi and me in the city. He had two Great Dane’s in his basement and I watched him scoop up the piles of dog business with a snow shovel. As a farrier he shoed the Rochester Police Department’s horses. I was working for the city at the time and I’d visit him there on my lunch hour.
He move to Delaware, horse country, got married again and had a daughter. And then he started to wander. He stayed at our house a few times, once with his camper and a new dog. He was spending most nights in Walmart parking lots. He came out to hear our band and left during the second set. We expected to find him in our driveway in his camper but he was gone.
Greg visited us in our new place before moving out west and that was the last time we saw him. He had shock therapy and tried to describe that to me and then more health problems. We’d talk on the phone but the spark was gone. He came down with Parkinson’s and then Covid did him in. His family hosted a memorial gathering at a hotel downtown and there was an overall sense of relief. Greg was finally at rest. I will miss him.
Robert Frank’s shoes under glass at the Visual Studies Workshop in Rochester, New York
You can’t expect to walk away from your house for a month and not be overloaded when you return. The mundane stuff piles up. Cleaning the gutters, raking the leaves and getting the garlic in. We are about a month late on that last one. We put 140 cloves in this afternoon. Nowhere near the one thousand cloves our neighbor, Emily, put in. We picked the last batch of Pimientos de Padrón and had them with dinner. The plants just look exhausted but our greens – the lettuces and arugula are loving this 60 degree weather. We have a neighborhood get together this weekend and we should have no problem supplying a big bowl of salad.
I received an email from the photographer Fred Chance in Gloucestershire about the photo I took of Robert Frank’s shoes. I posted it along with a review of a Scott McCarney show at Writers & Books back in 2012. Fred wanted to know if he could use my photo in connection with a written project he is working on. He is hoping the use the shoes as a focus. I found the original photo and was able to improve it in PS Elements’ “Haze Removal.” The shoes were in a glass case when I photographed them. Of course I am letting him use the photo and I’m excited to see what he comes up with.
Interestingly, we kept seeing Robert Frank’s “The Americans” book in Spain and it was often displayed next to a book of vintage black and white photos call “The Italians.” Like Fred, I like the late Robert Frank work as much as or more than “The Americans.” We have five or six of those Steidl books, some given to us by Duane, and they are treasures. Funny thinking about Robert Frank in these shoes (if they indeed were his). Frank is a bit of a prankster but these look like bowling shoes. Maybe he went bowling while in Rochester and wore the shoes right out of the alley.
Colleen Buzzard Artist’s Talk at MCC Mercer Gallery
Colleen Buzzard has placed herself at the center of a creative hub in Rochester by being a magnanimous host for the curious. Her studio is a cabinet of curiosities that prompts questions and incubates ideas. She shares her thinking here and opens a portion of her space to other artists for shows of their work. Both feed off the dialog. She engages you and draws you in thereby creating a community of creatives.
Colleen Buzzard wire/shadow drawing at MCC Mercer Gallery
Colleen gave an artist’s talk last night at the opening of her new show at Mercer Gallery. The place was packed, a testimony to her influence. I was struck by how her piece, above, a wire/shadow, three dimensional drawing reminded me of Chillida. We had seen so much of his work during our month in Spain. And when Colleen talked of working between 2D and 3D she is talking Chillida’s language. This piece is but a small detail in her installation, Colleen has work on all six sides of the cube as well as outside the window. I hope you can spend some time here in the next month.
A sign on the Diputación de Sevilla building advertised a sculpture show. Admission was free so we checked it out. The sculpture was a little too cute for us so we moved to the other rooms. An artist had about dozen photos in a line and I really liked the one above, the composition, the minimal elements perfectly arranged, the surprise element of the rocks, the cropping just right. Everything I like in a photo.
This was a government building of sorts. We weren’t quite sure what is was but it was casual enough for Peggi to stand behind this desk with the picture of Juan Carlos, the once hero because he steered Spain toward a demcracy after Franco but now scandle-ridden former King of Spain.
Peggi with picture of Juan Carlos behind desk in Diputación de Sevilla building
And now we are back in Rochester. To our surprise we have not had a frost so our Pimientos de Padrón plants had a double batch waiting for us. Our last lettuce plantings were ready for the picking. We even found a few tomatoes. A welcome back.
Spanish nationalists headed to a rally against amnesty for Catalan separatists in Plaza de Colón
I’m following up yesterday’s love letter to Spain with a small dose of reality. Franco can still draw a crowd. Just like in the US, the conservatives have captured the flag. The colors hanging from balconies denote “the “patriots,” the anti immigrant crowd, the ones who have no tolerance for the separatist movements.
We were sitting in the window of a café in Madrid last Sunday when this couple walked by. They paused for a minute, right in front of us and said something to one another. I fumbled for my camera as fast as I could but I missed getting the front of this guy’s cap. The big white letters read ESPAÑA and it looked just like a MAGA hat. There was a guy sitting next to us at the counter. He was reading El País but apparently watching me as well. He said, “there’s still people like that here,” and he chuckled.
We woke up at five thirty this morning. Still mostly on Spanish time. We couldn’t wait to take a walk in the leaves, it was so beautiful out. They moved our polling location to the Transfiguration Church on Culver. We really liked our old place, the Point Pleasant Fire House. They have a bar in the building that they rent out and we always imagined Margaret Explosion playing there.
At Transfiguration there was a guy with an American Flag shirt on getting out of his car, a button collar, long sleeve shirt with the stars and stripes. The church gloms onto election day to host a bake sale so we checked out the cookies on the way in. The man who handed us our paper ballots was wearing a tie that had “Jesus” printed on it along with a quote from scripture. We cast our votes and bought two peanut butter chocolate chip cookies on the way out.
It takes a long time for civilizations to develop into higher life forms. That word, civilization, or at least my understanding of it, is the first thing that comes to mind when we land in Spain.
Walking the Camino across Spain through all those small towns and villages we were struck by how little sprawl there is. People like to live on top of one another. They are out in the street, the cafés and bars. They sit in parks and gather on the sidewalks to talk. When people walk into a café they say “Buenos Dias,” to everybody. It is rude not to. In big cities the metro is just as crowded as it is in New York but it is clean and orderly. People are polite. There are far fewer ads screaming at you.
Fresh loaves of bread are in every small grocery and on every table in restaurants. You will often get a free tapa or a plate of olives with a beer. And the tempting tapas and pinchos are always out on display. It’s good for business. It is only sociable. They are often artfully constructed. Cod and potato, atún, anchovies or jamón wrapped around an olive nestled on roasted peppers. You can make a meal out of them if you wish. This is the home of the Mediterranean Diet.
It is surely all older people who buy newspapers but there are enough of them in Spain to keep the regional presses rolling and the three national papers, El País, El Mundo and ABC are everywhere. The cafés still have copies sitting at the end of the bar for you skim over coffee. We watched a Real Madrid match last night that started at 9PM and then read two articles about the match in this morning’s paper!
The government supports the arts. Together with large corporations (Fundaciones) they underwrite museum quality shows that are free to the public. Cities have statues and sculptures in every plaza. The generations spend much more time together. Children are more mature and better behaved as a result. Sidewalks along the water have no guard rails or fences. Many people still pause at midday for a big meal. Shops close for two hours.
The streets are named after poets and saints. They have a national health plan. People live longer. They have a socialist for a Prime Minister. I better stop.
The night before leaving Sevilla we booked this hotel room in Chueca on the other side of the old city from where we stayed when we started this trip. It has proven to be a perfect spot for us. After stopping at Rocafria (Cold Rock) for café con leche and a pincho de tortilla we head off in a different direction each day. Today we started with a show of paintings by Luis Gordillo at La Sala Alcalá 31. He is 89 years but paints like a child, with abandon. We didn’t like what saw online so we walked right by this Exposición a few times without going in. Sometimes you just have to give an artist some time. We have often been turned around but we gave it our best shot and came up empty.
We had not been to the new location of Sin Tarima yet so we walked into La Latina neighborhood and got swallowed up by the crowd at the Sunday open air flea market, El Rastro. It was so crowded for so many blocks that we got turned around twice. Even the book store, blocks away was crowded. We wandered further and the streets quieted down.
We found a sweet little restaurant, Viuda de Vacas, (widow of cows), where the owners seemed to know everyone who came in. We ordered spinach and garbanzo beans and grilled asparagus with carrots. We we’re going to order the Cod, Portuguese style, but the waitress somehow talked us out of it. And then they showed us the dish (potatoes and pieces of cod with egg, sort of scrambled) when others ordered it and it looked great. It probably would have been too much. So we ordered a cheese plate.
Just a few blocks from the restaurant we walked by these people dancing in a small plaza, something they must do often as no one was making a fuss. Real Madrid plays at home tonight against Rayo Vallecano and we to plan to watch it at the hotel bar.
Could there be more of a contrast between two images than these two photos?
Installation at Museo del Romanticismo in Madrid
We stopped into Casado Santapau Gallery to see a show our first evening back in Madrid. The woman behind the desk recommended three nearby galleries and she took me to an instagram page that rounds up contemporary art in Madrid. We made a point of going to those three galleries this morning and each was eye opening. The Colombian artist, Mateo Lopez, at Travesia Cuatro was playful and entirely modern. Inma Feminía at Max Estrella showed her black mirrors, dyed plastic hangings and a black light image in a dark room that captivated us. The Japanese artist, Yoshihiro Suda, at Elvira Gonzales showed tiny botanical motifs at actual scale in large white rooms. The concept overwhelmed the work.
Our next two stops were more provincial. The Museo del Romanticismo was fun but I suspect only romantic for the very, very wealthy, as in royalty. The Museo de Historia de Madrid was enlightening as it made clear the city developed over five centuries as a playground for the elite. The royal family employed 22,000 people alone.
We found a great spot for dinner and split an arugula salad with fennel, pear, parmesan and walnuts and a deep black rice dish with calamari, ink and a large prawn. We came back to the hotel room to relax for a bit and went out to the exhibition at Fundación “la Caixa’ entitled “Venerated and Feared: Feminine Power in Art and Beliefs.” This show covered some 5000 years with pieces from antiquity to the present, from Ancient Greece to Marina Abramovic.
