No Shit!

In a small alley off Crosby Street they apparently have a problem with people using the alley as a toilet.

On the 2nd floor of 214 Sullivan (no relation) the bathroom has two toilets side by side without a barrier. Who thought this was a good idea? Have  two people ever sat next to each other while simultaneously relieving themselves in this particular bathroom? I doubt it.

Street "artiste" doing a combination of martial arts, sculpture and performance piece. On 26th Street, a parked Mercedes provides lighting and a radio blaring narrative of his actions. Mixed media at its finest.

Looking down the tracks after hopping off the #1 train in my 'hood.

Me, Duane & Bad Art

Many years ago I went to seminar given by the great photographer Duane Michals. At the time I was taking an advanced printing class and I went to see him talk about his work, but found that most of the seminar he spoke about his fascination with time. Thursday night I went to see his latest work where he took appropriated photos (found/bought) and painted on them. A new direction from his past work that's for sure. A very interesting and creative man. Still very sharp and witty at 81.

Oddly, when I asked to have my photo taken with him, he growled and acted like he going to bite me... I took a second shot and he growled again like a crazy badger....

After seeing the Michals exhibit I wandered into a gallery showing the work of B. Wurtz. Should have been called "Wurtz-less." I have a problem with "artists" (using that term loosely) showing work that has about as much creative thought as a 15-year-old student at art camp. Total bullshit. How people like this get shows in large galleries is one of the huge mysteries of life, up there with how the pyramids were made and Stonehenge.

Cups, wood, wire, bullshit.

B.Wurtz (above) painting any 7-year-old could do. Saying it was shitty would be a compliment.

I moved on being subject to more crap art at C24 Gallery. Paint a board red and nail some brass studs in it--Deeeep! I think the culprit on this shit-show was Mark Dutcher. Somebody pleeease take away this clown's paintbrush.  I walked in the door, looked around and said out loud, "REALLY?"

Let It Snow (hopefully for the last time)

Early this evening as I made my way up through Soho it began to snow. By the time I reached Washington Square Park it was beginning to cover the grass and benches. The park was almost empty and reminded me of old photos from the early 1900s. I flipped my little Lumix to B&W and snapped some photos. Leaving the park from the northwest corner, 3 drug dealers offered me their wares, asking if I'd like "an evening pick-me-up." I declined. My "Courier & Ives" moment was tarnished a bit.

Will Work for Free

Funny thing about photography. It's probably the only job in the world where people have no problem in asking you to do it for free. You'd never call a friend who was a dentist and ask him to fill a tooth or do a root canal for free. You'd never ask your accountant to do your taxes for free. But for some strange reason no one has a problem asking photographers to shoot for free. People frequently ask me to shoot their kids, their jewelry designs, their pets, their promotional packages, modeling photos, weddings, bar mitzvahs, etc., etc. Like it's a privilege to "let" me take such photos. Do I really need another photo of some 35-year-old "wannabe/has been" model whose best modeling days were 18 years ago in my portfolio? Do they think it's thrilling for me? Do they think I get some great pleasure in dragging 50+ lbs of equipment to their home to take a photo of them? Not to mention the 3 hours of editing, retouching and burning DVDs I usually do afterwards? And, to make it even more ridiculous, when I DO agree to shoot and they "kindly" offer to buy me dinner or coffee after we're done. A photoshoot for $12...seriously? 

 

It's a strange phenomenon in the world of jobs. 

My friend Katherine found this post from a photographer in Atlanta that sums it up pretty well. 

BSB (backstage beauty) & Me

I just opened a flash card with images from backstage during Fashion Week. Though dark and hard to focus at times, I love the freedom to walk around and shoot pre-show beauty in the making.

At the Bitforms gallery at 529 West 20th Street they have the work of Daniel Rozin. His works are interactive. Standing in front of lcd screens and large sculptural contraptions that change shape and form as you move in front of them. Hard to explain what's happening from these quick snaps but that's me fragmented on a large LCD screen. Very cool show.

Babies R (not) Us

A friend of a friend recently wanted some photos taken of her while pregnant. Everyone has seen the Demi Moore cover of Vanity Fair and I had no interest in duplicating that. I wanted to go down a slightly darker path. A bit more like Joel-Peter Witkin or Ralph Eugene Meatyard, both of whom I admire greatly. Negotiations ran into weeks before we agreed on a compromise. I'll shoot "pretty" photos for half of the time, the other half will be spent "trying" my ideas, like using the "sheet mask" I made recently. As usual the shoot didn't turn out as planned (never does) but she was a good sport and I think she'll like the "pretty" photos I took of her. These however are not the nice ones.... I'm fairly certain she won't be posting these on Facebook. And, unfortunately, I doubt I'll be hearing from Vanity Fair to shoot the next famous pregnant celebrity.

Miserable Art Night (they can't all be good)

They said it would snow, but it rained more than it snowed. It was cold, rainy, windy, sleety, snowy and miserable. But, I persevered. I hit the galleries hard tonight. There were 29 openings. Most were crap.

First gallery I walked into. Furry ape-like beings sitting in front of a faux campfire roasting marshmallows. Stupid. The night went downhill from there.

Oh, this was a showstopper. Drying dishes. I have a similar piece in my place about an hour after dinner every night. 

I think this piece was made out of clay.  Some raised eyebrows, a few giggles. Whispers of "Looks like you honey" were overheard. 

I see this guy almost every week. Strange old bird. He was obviously as underwhelmed as I was to fall asleep in the middle of a crowded gallery. Then again, nobody checked his pulse. Either way, it sums up my night of art.

Three Covers for March

Three Hands, a Tree and a Penis

 Walking down the street the other day, I glanced down to see a small hand.

The hand was printed on a small tile or cover. I tried to pull it up but I couldn't. Such an odd sight.

A short time later I spied more hands on the ground.

A leafless tree in Central Park

You've gotta love Chinatown. "I'll have the ox penis soup...hold the meatballs please."

Coffee, Shadows and Desired Living

Thai iced coffee (tea?) during lunch with a friend.

Shadow steps on 6th Ave.

I recently saw this loft advertised for sale. I instantly sprang into action. I tried meditating, The Secret, Norman Vincent Peale's "Imagining" and even prayed to dead friends and relatives asking for help acquiring this perfect abode. Apparently I'm not doing something right because I'm still in Inwood.

So the cosmos doesn't want me to have the loft. How about this simple mountain cabin? Any help on this would be greatly appreciated.

Simple Sights

Window Drip

Advertisement on subway. Rare that a five-word ad can make you ponder your life. 

Last sliver of light, Upper West Side. 

33 Crosby St. (I think).

Subway stop at 168th, transfer to the uptown A train.

Life in "The Burbs"

Suburbs..... I just got back from a week in Virginia. I went there mostly to visit my father. It's been 18 years since I moved to New York City but feels like five. Time has flown. When I first moved away I would come back often, perhaps as many as 5 times a year or more. I missed my town horribly and would take any form of transportation available to get back to Virginia. After hearing my constant complaints of missing home, my best friend Mario once told me that eventually I'd love New York just as much and that one day while visiting Virginia I would miss my life in the city. I scoffed at the thought.

I remember somewhere around 1995 coming back from Virginia and seeing the World Trade Center towers out of the window of the bus and thinking to myself, "I'm so happy to be home." At that moment I remembered what Mario had said and smiled to myself that even though it had taken a year, he was right, I had missed the city.

As the years have gone by I've gone back to Virginia less often. I try to get home every 4 months or so. When my mother was ill a few years ago I went down for weeks at a time, spending a few months there overall until she passed away. I was more than grateful for that time with her and my family.

After this week it finally dawned on me why I have lost so much of my desire to go the place I used to love and call "home". (I still can't think of a better term for it but I'm confused because New York is now "home" to me). When I left Virginia I had a fairly full social life. Weekends were spent with friends going to various events, which usually included hiking somewhere in the mountains of Virginia, Maryland or West Virginia (Harper's Ferry) or music-related activities like seeing a friend's band playing at a local bar. Maybe one in five weeknights were spent with friends having dinner at any number of chain restaurants like Chili's, Ruby Tuesday's or Anita's. Toward the end of my time in Virginia, most of my friends had gotten married and had kids, which curtailed nearly all of their social activity. I became the odd man out. The bachelor who didn't own a home, wasn't married, didn't have kids or a "normal" 9-to-5 job. I felt like a bit of an outcast.

I moved on a whim. My girlfriend at the time had gotten a modeling contract in NYC and asked me to join her. I thought at best it'd be a great adventure and would last a year at most, five years tops. Feeling like I was losing my friends at a rapid pace and my social life was dwindling, I embraced the move north. The first few months were exciting but felt more like an extended version of a weekend high school field trip. It was a huge, confusing, congested city. I found the transit system almost impossible to decipher. And, I was extremely homesick. I had one friend, Mario, in NYC other than my girlfriend. It was a very lonely time for me.

I digress.... When I go back to Virginia now I realize that once I left there was no turning back. Living in New York had quickly made me a different person. A less tolerant person. At the same time a person who expects more out of life than a simple 9-to-5 job, a few kids, an SUV in the driveway and a three-bedroom house with a 30-year mortgage.

I became an addict. I was addicted to all the things that New York offered. There is no boredom in NYC. Walk outside and look around. You can't be bored. Go to any one of the hundreds of galleries, museums, plays or music venues. Eat at any of the ten thousand restaurants. Go to Central Park. Take a walk in Times Square. You can't be bored here.

While at home last week I asked my friends and relatives what was on their agenda for the upcoming week... As they listed their schedules I couldn't help but smile..
Painting the living room
Get the oil changed in the car.
Take the kids/grand kids to -----.
Putting a new set of tires on the Buick
Having friends over for a church dinner
Doing yard work
Going grocery shopping
Taking the dog to the vet
Going to the mall
Going to a winery
Taking a hike along the C&O Canal
Going to Fair Oaks Mall
Going to Tyson's Mall
Going to Springfield Mall
Going to Target and Walmart
Watching the game (fill in type of sport)

What I found interesting that not a SINGLE activity was mentioned that remotely involved creativity...not once. No museums, no galleries, no plays, no musical events, not even a movie... nothing. Even with DC less than a half hour away. People in the suburbs tend to focus on  the following... home repairs, shopping, car repairs, kids, shopping sports, SHOPPING and eating (99% of the time in a chain restaurant).
Now, with that said, I personally don't see anything wrong with these choices, they just don't interest me in the least.

When I got back late Wednesday night I immediately walked in the door, dropped my bags and typed ArtCards into Google where I found ALL the listings of gallery openings for the upcoming week.
Last night "the gang" and I hit at least 15 of the 21 listings. A wonderful night of creative talk, visual stimulation and people watching... I couldn't have been happier. I got my creative art fix. The art junkie in me was satisfied.

And this, and this alone is why I now call New York City  home.