Thursday, June 30, 2016

360

Today's dance was short and sweet, just like a Ramones song. We went to see the Ramones show at the Queens Museum. In the back room there was a virtual Ramones concert happening, projected on the wall, loud speakers. The girls and I danced hard. Brilliant. Felt like we were living at the birth of punk.















Sunday, June 12, 2016

359

The amount of great moments I have in my life is hard to fathom.  Last night at the dads camp out fully immersed in the music around the campfire for instance. I know it is nothing to write home about. Especially with all the famine on the farm. And the Orlando nightclub shooting still fresh blood.

But it is no use to live less.

Rounds around the campfire of "I want to rock 'n' roll all night and party every day," done some bud {damn autocorrect} Samba style.

Change lyrics to: "I want to Rock and roll all night and party every day. But my wife left me and now I'm in AA. I have to call my sponsor, I have to go away. I want to rock 'n' roll all night and party every day."

But suffice to say I stayed up all night anyway and got completely lost in, full of, the muse w/ my crews.

How to bring that noise to the masses?

Them's my assays. 

Double pronged business plan 2016: 1. WorldFest, 2. sound and vision series. To get real about work (and thus deserve the pasture.)

Oh yes, and about this dance. It was to Junior Farm by Paul McCartney. With Lucia, we made up moves and got very into the music. All kinds of fancy moves. Seriously not something everyone should not feel. All the 
time. 








Sunday, June 5, 2016

358

Watched joke of itch (damn autocorrect) Djokavic beat Murray in the French Open. Such a savage confidence. So much spirit and grace in the body. Ha ha, I love that mistranslation, "joke of itch."

 On the way to the cemetery I saw Justin Marks on the street. We talked about the ins and outs of Helen Vendler. Because I am so immersed in her commentaries on Emily Dickinson right now. Justin told me some great stories about her. I said she was getting heat in the community. I loved Justin's response, "She's got PC issues." Meanwhile Justin's kid Henry complained that we had talked through a full red light cycle as we were standing on the corner. Justin said, "That's one of the great things about living in New York City, Henry, having conversations with people on the street." 

Then I put on the Pharaohs, a band that happened to be recommended to me by Justin's partner at Birds, Inc, Sampson Starkweather. Interesting coincidence. Turned out to be a perfect dance record. Including a stellar version of "People tell me I'm the life of the party because I tell a joke or two." Joke of itch. I went hard at the old boneyard.

At the secret Rendezvous I danced with the unknown French dancer. She was exquisite! Oh yeah, Djokavic spoke perfect French too. He inspired me to learn French, and to be more organized and smart with my time my short brief time.







Saturday, June 4, 2016

357

showed up late to Tyler Burba's 40th birthday party at the Parkside Lounge in Lower East Side. He was playing The Beatles' "Run For Your Life", but it was a version so raw ripped and bluesy that I didn't even recognize it was the Beatles. It was like what the Beatles were trying to be! And it got me dancing hard, instantly. And I was the only one.

The song ended and Tyler pulled me up on stage to do a couple songs. He handed me an electric guitar, which I'm not used to, and I just rocked out. It was full throated and full throttle, still can't believe I can get there sometimes, and with the crowd on my side. Verdant.

I remember improvising the lines, "40 years hath Octember. 40 years the lungs have wrapped the peek hole. 40 daisies on 40 ladies."








Wednesday, June 1, 2016

356

It was perfect weather today so I decided to take advantage and ride my bike across the Queensborough and into the city. I rode up the East Side bike path along the river until I got to 95th and then headed over into Central Park. I stopped to do the old soft shoe to "Mista Dobalina" by Del The Funky Homosapien for awhile in the grass near the sailboat pond. Then I decided that since I was so close to the Met it would be a minor sin not to go see some art. I looked up what was playing. At the Met Breuer was "Unfinished: Thoughts Left Visible," a show of unfinished paintings by the Masters. Totally great. Below are some highlights.

This one was poignant. It was the painting Van Gogh was working on when he killed himself. That unfinished blue sky!

This painting by Degas reminded me of Caravaggio's "Conversion of St. Paul", one of my favorite paintings. (I cried when I saw it after Genevieve and I stumbled across accidentally in church in Rome.) The man is in same position as St. Paul, but these horses are going the opposite way, and running at that. And the jockey doesn't seem to be having the same kind of conversion as St. Paul. But maybe that's the joke? The horses are oblivious of the man in both paintings.

Turner unfinished! It's a straight up link to the Abstract Expressionists, but more beautiful than anything done by the lot.

This Ed Ruscha print cracks me up. The word says "PRECISE" and Ruscha's precise note for the printer (which appears to be unintentially ironic) is to make the letters whiter.

This etching by Rembrandt is personal. St. Jerome reading. The lion is protecting him. I feel like a lion of sorts is protecting me today so I can study Rembrandt etchings at the Met. I love how St. Jerome (myself) appears to still be forming.

I remember in 6th grade seeing an unfinished painting by da Vinci with the inscription "When the eye cries stop, stop." It's still stuck in my mind all these decades later. And now this drawing by him coming from unfinished chaos in the fringes to the "finished" look love in the face of the Madonna.

Jan Van Eyck drawing with just the background painted in. Hard to see here just how exquisite this is.

Albrecht Durer, unfinished Christ. Haunting.

Picasso purposely playing with levels of process.

Warhol taking Picasso's idea a step further. 

Kerry James Marshall takes Warhol a step further with this portrait of the artist in front of a color-by-numbers self portrait. 

I remember seeing this piece by Felix Gonzalez-Torres in San Francisco in the nineties. It's a pile of candy with the same mass as the artist. A self-portrait. You take a piece as a symbol of the the viewer taking a piece of the artist. I kept two pieces of candy from when I saw this pile 20 years ago and I believe I still have them. I guess I didn't need to as it's still being replenished. It's unfinished! I took two more this time to give to my daughters.