Sunshine

The other day I was sitting on a bench in Central Park, right off Columbus Circle. I was by myself, bending wire and occasionally looking up to people watch. After about 15 minutes an elderly woman sat down next to me. I was a bit annoyed actually, there were plenty of empty benches. A few minutes passed and she must have noticed the pliers, my little sculpture and small spool of wire, she asked me what I was making. I explained that it was like knitting, it soothed me and the end result was almost unimportant. We struck up a conversation and she somehow got on the subject of her dog. She explained that "Sunshine" was a rescued 15-year-old pitbull. I can't explain it but I heard the words come from my mouth offering to photograph her and her old dog. Elderly woman, elderly dog, seemed interesting enough. She asked me in an abrasive, suspicious voice, "How much?" I told her I'd shoot them for free and she gave me the look of someone who thinks they're about to be swindled.

A few days later we set up a time to meet near her apartment in Tribeca. As I walked up to them on North Moore Street I was truly astonished at how fit and spry this dog Sunshine was. She looked to be about 5 years old. Lean and fit. After sensing my amazement, Jewel, the elderly woman, told me that the dog is on a very strict daily diet of 3/4 lb of raw meat mixed with various raw vegetables including bell peppers and cilantro. What dog has cilantro in its diet?

At a nearby dog run we both tossed the ball for Sunshine for about 45 minutes. I took many photos. Over and over, the dog would bring the ball back, drop it at our feet and wait for another throw. Each time running as fast and steady as the first toss. This animal was the Jack LaLanne of dogs. I've never seen anything like it...ever.

I think I need to start eating raw meat and cilantro.

Quotes

Here are some quotes I've remembered or recently come across. Inspiring, thought-provoking, cynical and the first I found very poignant.

"Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself."—Tolstoy

"Expectation is the root of all heartache."—William Shakespeare 

"The chief enemy of creativity is good sense."― Pablo Picasso

"I pay absolutely no attention whatever to anybody’s praise or ridicule. I simply follow my own feelings."— Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

"To find yourself, think for yourself."— Socrates 

"You lose what individualism you have, if you have enough of course, you retain some of it, but most dont have enough, so they become watchers of game shows, y’know, things like that. Then you work the 8 hour job with almost a feeling of goodness, like you’re doing something, and you get married, like marriage is a victory and you have children like having children is a victory, but most things people do are a total grind, marriage, birth, children, it’s something they HAVE to do because they have nothing else to do. There is no glory in it, no esteem, no fire, their lives are flat and the earth is full of them. Sorry, but thats the way I see it. I could not accept the snail’s pace 8-5, Johnnie Carson, merry christmas, happy new year, to me it’s the sickest of all sick things."—Charles Bukowski

And lastly:    

"In the end we will only regret the chances we didn't take. The relationships we were scared to have and the decisions we waited too long to make. There comes a time in your life when you realize who matters, who doesn't, who never did and who always will. So don't worry about people from your past, there's a reason they didn't make it to your future."—Adam Lindsay Gordon

Shaky

 Master lock, Lower East Side.

Walking around Chinatown, I found these coin-operated "kiddie rides." They're usually located in front of some small convenience store. I find it very odd that you put your kid on these contraptions, insert 50 cents and it sways, rocks or shakes your child for a few minutes. No sound, not particularly nice looking and probably teeming with germs.

Perhaps vibrating beds in hotel rooms are designed to appeal to adults who rode on these things as kids. Same concept.

Hudson-Guggenheim

While doing laundry, somewhere during my wash cycle or dry cycle I walked over to the Hudson River. I looked north and snapped a photo. I looked south and snapped a photo. For a brief moment I thought of buying a kayak.

I've gone to the Guggenheim twice in the last month. John Chamberlain's show is going on now, which looks to me like something you might find in a rural junkyard. Fenders, bumpers and various car parts squished and welded together into big blocks. I found his sculptures to be boring and redundant. I actually found it more entertaining to watch the people above me looking over the edge. Not good when you find the building more interesting than the art it houses (the Guggenheim is beautiful).

Francesca Woodman's work is also showing there, which was the reason I went. That show is dark, thought-provoking and beautiful.

Absurdity in Art

Klein

 Rothko

Today my friend Tatiana and I met in midtown and went to Christie's Auction House. This pre-auction show was amazing.  I've never seen that much art outside a major museum in my life. Another amazing thing was the estimated prices of the art. Forty million dollars for Yves Klein's "FC1" (Fire-color 1 painting, top). He took two models, covered their bodies with paint and had them press up against some cardboard.  Then he took a blowtorch to the cardboard (briefly). The Rothko "Orange, Red, Yellow" (2nd painting above) is estimated to go for around $45 million. Sotheby's has Edvard Munch's "Scream" painting up for auction soon with an estimated final price of around $80-$100 million. How is this possible? The art world has truly gone mad. 

We stopped for a coffee after dinner. Across the street I noticed this beggar was leaning against the deli asking passersby for change.

The Glare

Sometimes I find myself standing on a corner just looking through my camera's viewfinder. I don't know exactly what I'm waiting for. It's like watching a movie of life in New York through that tiny screen. At least once every few minutes someone will stare back at me, almost confrontational. I suppose they're just inquisitive, questioning what I'm filming and why. They never speak, they just glare at me. It makes me self-conscious.

A few months ago, on a cold day, I was shooting the steam billowing from a vending cart. Backlit by the sun, it created an interesting silhouette. A woman walked over to me and angrily said, "Did you just shoot a photo of my child? Did you?" I looked at her, not having noticed her child, and said, "No, I shot the billowing steam coming from that vending cart. Your kid might have been in the photo along with everyone else on the street, however, I didn't purposely photograph your kid." She walked away in a huff.

Street photography could be hazardous to your health.

Around Town

Another pair of seemingly good shoes abandoned next to a trash can.

Elmo and Cookie Monster scoping out people in Times Square, hoping to get a few bucks for hugging someone's kid while Mom & Dad snap a photo. Such a racket.

I saw this strange man looking back at me on the 72nd Street subway platform. What's more beautiful than the lighting on a subway platform.

I stopped in MAD (Museum of Arts and Design) today and came upon these interesting glass bottles by artist Jim Dingilian. Basically recovered litter, these bottles are filled with candle smoke and then, using very small utensils, he erases parts of the smoke film creating these painterly images inside the bottle. Reverse painting. Amazing.

Crazy Skies

Friday evening while walking up the West Side on 10th Ave. I glanced up to see the most unusual skies I've ever seen in NYC, or perhaps anywhere.... Like many things, pictures don't do it justice. Very low clouds that resembled wet fibers strewn over the city (for lack of a better description). At first I thought it was smoke coming from Lower Manhattan. As the sun dropped below the horizon it cast a gold glow on those odd low clouds.  It was actually pretty freaky. I watched this "cloud show" for about 40 minutes from a large vacant lot I had wandered (trespassed) into for a better view.

Sikh Day

Today I went to the Sikh Day parade and festival in Madison Square Park. There was lots of free Indian food. Imagine that...free food, that tasted good. Walk up to one of many tables they had set up, a nice Sikh person hands you a tray and piles on the grub. Rice, breads, various curry dishes. I stuffed my face. And, it was exactly the same as any food you might get in an Indian restaurant. De-friggin-licious! Walking around, all but one person I asked let me photograph them. These were extremely nice and generous people. I need to go to India soon.

Amber

Tuesday while editing photos for a new website, I came upon these photos of my wonderful friend Amber. We made them one afternoon in a park near her home in Vancouver a few years ago. It's truly a gift having her as a close friend not to mention a great model. Just after my edit my phone rang. It was Amber asking me to Skype her later that night. How serendipitous, considering we hadn't spoken in a while.

Village Pics

Sunset in the Meatpacking District.

Self portrait. Long shadows, late afternoon, West Village.

Varick Street at Spring. Reflections on building from across the street.

Summertime is here, 86 degrees. Time for a crash diet.

Last week's art crawl in Chelsea. Older man dressed up as a giant grasshopper. Never said a word, staying in his "anthropod character," complete with odd insect-like head movements. Sort of creepy actually.

Theory on Longevity

I've been thinking about going to the gym recently. Then I thought, what's the point? Look at the lifespan of a sloth... between 20 and 40 years. A cheetah? About 14 years. Look at Jack Lalaine, he lived to be 96. He ate right and worked out every day. George Burns, who smoked cigars and probably ate whatever he wanted, lived to be 101. Keith Richards smokes constantly and plays guitar, he's 68. Jim Fixx the great running advocate dropped dead on the side of the road while jogging in Vermont at 52. Stephen Hawking can't move his finger, he's 70. Need I say more?

Fuck the gym, I'm going sloth.

Here's my theory: The moment you're born you're predisposed with a certain number of heartbeats. The average heart beats around 2.8 billion times in a lifetime. So, if you use them up on some stupid treadmill that's not so good. I suggest everyone barely move. Get a beer, sit on the deck in the sun and watch all the other bozos play volleyball. When you're 80, they'll all be dead.

Speaking of what's good and bad for you, I walked past a pub on 44th Street and saw this box in the trash. "For institutional use only"? What does that mean? Extra pink slime?

Spring has sprung in front of the San Remo on CPW.

Give Thanks

Let's all breathe a HUGE sigh of relief that Rick Santorum--the idiotic, Bush-loving, abortion-hating, homophobic, religious lunatic--has dropped out of the presidential race. First off, who the hell EVER supported this moron? Not to mention he's had eight kids. Hey Rick, ever heard of overpopulation? There are seven billion (with a B) people on the earth.

This guy TRULY is a worthless, small-minded imbecile. Not to mention crazy (see last paragraph).

Stupid Santorum quotes:

“Earlier in my political career, I had the opportunity to read the speech, and I almost threw up.” –Rick Santorum, on JFK's 1960 speech about the importance of separation of church and state (October 2011) adding later that Kennedy had caused "great harm in America."

"President Obama wants everybody in America to go to college. What a snob ... Oh, I understand why he wants you to go to college. He wants to remake you in his image.”

“I believe that any doctor that performs an abortion, I would advocate that any doctor that performs an abortion, should be criminally charged for doing so.”

"All of us have heard people say, 'I privately am against abortion, homosexual marriage, stem cell research, cloning. But who am I to decide that it's not right for somebody else?' It sounds good, but it is the corruption of freedom of conscience"

He has stated a policy of "drill everywhere" for oil and that there is "enough oil, coal and natural gas to last for centuries".

Santorum believes that global warming is a "beautifully concocted scheme" by the political left and "an excuse for more government control of your life".

And finally, the icing on the cake, as I posted before:

In 1996, the Santorum's son Gabriel was born prematurely after twenty weeks of pregnancy and died in the hospital two hours after birth. Karen wrote that she and Rick slept with the dead infant between them in the hospital that night, then brought his body home the following day and introduced it to their children as "your brother Gabriel".

Can you say "F-U-C-K-I-N-G C-R-A-Z-Y" ?????

Now, if we can just get rid of Mitt!! The other, slightly less retarded, moron.

Sights & Psychics

Someone apparently bought new shoes, then placed their old pair in the box and set them next to a mailbox. I find that odd.

The last two days have been beautiful. Sunset in Central Park.

While walking through the West Village, a shock of red hair caught my eye from across the street, sitting in a little french cafe.

A psychic can supposedly tell any random person when they'll get married, how many kids they'll have, their future job possibilities and even impending doom. Yet, they can't seem to pick out six random numbers of a lottery. I find that odd.

Only $10 to predict your past, present and future. What a bargain! A close friend just confided in me that she's been seeing a psychic. Given that she's very educated, I find that very surprising. At "only" $50 a session she swears by it. I don't think I want to know what the future has in store for me, good or bad.

Usually I walk past these places and try to look away. If you do happen to glance over and make eye contact with the woman in the window, she'll make hand gestures saying, "Come in, come in...." Trying to seduce you into that deceitful, psychic web of hers.

Overthinking

I've been a bad blogger. I've been holed up in my apartment, staying up til 5:00am reading, editing, seeking inspiration and contemplating my future in this chosen life as a creative person. I'm unmotivated and have called on certain creative friends to help me with making a book or a show. I need to do something. I need a kick in the pants.

Last week I did the art crawl (searching for inspiration?) and as usual saw some beautiful things and some real "head scratchers".

Beautiful work by William Bailey

Then you have this mess by Ron Gorchov. Non-skilled, sloppy, uninteresting, lifeless. Looks like something a "special needs" person might do during art therapy class. Total bullshit.

Beautiful

I asked one of the pretentious employees clad in black (as always) how much this "piece" by Henning Bohl was and she said with a serious but annoyed tone, "That piece is fifteen thousand." I smiled, raised an eyebrow and said, "Really?" with a look that read, "Seriously? You just be fucking kidding."

Off the subject of art....

Late the other night I waited a very long time for an A train. Tired of standing, the C train came so I took it. The car was empty which I found a bit unnerving. This is a rare occurrence. I couldn't help but wonder who might step on at the next stop. A gang, a criminal, a lunatic, no one? I pulled my trusty Buck knife from my bag and held it in my front coat pocket. I shouldn't be so paranoid.