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Wretched

 


Wretched are those who are vindictive and spiteful.

-Pope Francis


I am not going to talk about the two competing town halls that took place last night. If you watched, you were able to clearly witness the contrast in tone and substance between the two candidates. One calmly discussed policy with facts and details while the other raged, whined, make incoherent statements and lied many, many times. As he always does. You don’t need my input beyond that.

But I have to mention the first news item I saw this morning upon coming into the studio. It concerned a request for federal disaster relief from the state of California for the record-setting wildfires taking place there, much of it on federal lands.

This administration of this president*** denied the request without comment or note. 

Now, this can only be interpreted as an act of vindictiveness aimed at hurting a state whose voters he knows will not choose him in November. It is as clear an act of dereliction of duty as one can witness. Rather than acting as the caretaker for all the citizens of this nation, he** picks winners and losers, punishing those who don’t show proper deference to his regal fat ass.

We saw this through the early days of the pandemic when he and his gang decided that the plan they had devised to combat the situation could be thrown aside because the virus was only really hurting the Blue Democratic states at that time. In their infinite wisdom, they somehow didn’t understand how a pandemic works, that it wouldn’t be contained in geographic blocks.

Especially with no plan of action. Especially without meaningful and comprehensive action.

This story about denying this request for disaster relief won’t get much air. In the chaos in which this creature** exists, a lot of atrocity goes by the wayside and gets completely overlooked. But make no mistake, this is an atrocity. A punishment for the citizens of California that will be repeated time and time again against those who he** feels aggrieved.

It’s California this time. Next time it could be your state, county or city. Or your business, school or organization. In his twisted mind, you are either with him or against him. 

I would like to say he rewards those loyal to him but there is little reward with him. Oh, there’s always a promise of a great payoff coming just a short time in the future, usually two weeks, kind of like that incredible, super duper healthcare plan that has been promised to the American public for the past four years. 

But there’s never a payoff, never a reward that is fulfilled. He treats his loyalists and the rest of us like the contractors that he would beat down on price or terms as a real estate developer.

He is always just trying to buy two more weeks. without having to do anything or spend any capital of his own.

So, if you’re with him, you get little to nothing. If you’re against him, you get less than that. 

Pope Francis was right: Wretched are those who are vindictive and spiteful.

And this creature** is surely wretched.

On November 3, let’s put that poor wretched beast out of its misery. 

Or should I say, out of our misery.

Hey, now get out there and have a great day!

A Bit of Optimism

“Life Pop”- Now at the Principle Gallery


“Optimism is a strategy for making a better future. Because unless you believe that the future can be better, you are unlikely to step up and take responsibility for making it so.”

― Noam Chomsky


I thought I would focus on being optimistic today.

It’s hard these days but it’s a necessity if you want to ever live in the future of your own desires. Planning and preparation are acts of optimism, carried out with the belief that you will be able to have a say in that future.

I have to admit though that my own optimism, my own capacity for looking and planning forward, has lessened over the course of this year. The future just didn’t seem so sure on most days. 

At least, a future with which I was comfortable and at least somewhat satisfied.

But like the words above from Noam Chomsky point out, you have to have some belief that you can shape the future and make it better, even if only in the smallest way.

This sort of optimism is a statement of responsibility.

It says, “I will.”

And that short phrase is enough to begin the process of moving toward that desired future.


Note: Speaking of planning ahead, a film from one of my favorite creative teams, Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, is on TCM tonight at 10 PM. It’s The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, from 1943. It’s a film I wrote about here back in 2009.  Like all of the Powell and Pressburger movies, such as The Red Shoes and Black Narcissus, it’s beautifully crafted and thought provoking. The beginning sequence is ahead of its time, feeling like a modern music video. Worth a watch.

Have a good day.

America Utopia


“But what they find most amazing and despicable is the insanity of those who all but worship the rich, to whom they owe nothing and who can do them no harm; they do so for no other reason except that they are rich, knowing full well that they are so mean and tightfisted that they will certainly never give them one red cent during their whole lives.”

― Thomas More, Utopia, 1516


It might have been written in 1516, but Sir Thomas More sure understood human nature and our ever mystifying adulation for the rich and powerful.

Some things never change.

I am going to leave it at that but do want to add one more thing on the subject of Utopias.

This Saturday evening on HBO premieres the Spike Lee film  America Utopia, which is a performance of the recent Tony-winning Broadway show of the same name from David Byrne. It was one of the shows that I would love to have seen. Of course, the pandemic has brought live performance to pretty much a halt. But at least there’s a film to celebrate this show. The trailer looks great.

Here’s that HBO trailer for America Utopia followed by a performance from the Colbert show from Byrne and the rest of his talented crew. Enjoy and try to have a good day.

Aah, Socrates…

The Death of Socrates– Jacques Louis David


“Are you not ashamed of caring so much for the making of money and for fame and prestige, when you neither think nor care about wisdom and truth and the improvement of your soul?”

― Socrates


Aah, Socrates…

He knew. 

He understood the evil nature of greed, that monstrosity which has no doubt been hanging around the neck of man since we first emerged from the primeval muck and mire and began to walk upright. 

That’s probably why they condemned him to die by drinking the poison hemlock.

Greed protects greed. 

Always has. Always will.

The best we can do is hope that we can come together enough to somehow keep the greed of the few in check. And that’s a tall task because the greedy few always gather together and organize. They seem to be in some sort of such unity right now. 

And unfortunately, as I heard someone once say, organized greed always defeats unorganized democracy. Too many of us believe that a democracy that benefits the many will always persevere, that we don’t have to be vigilant and take part in our civil duties.

That things always work out for the best for us.

But history doesn’t bear that out. Democracy is a rare and fragile thing. It requires care in order to resist the grip of greed.

It is incumbent upon us to care for our democracy. 

Enough said for today. I wasn’t even going to say this much. 

Just have a good day and try to nurture your better angels.

Patina/ Wabi Sabi


“The tides of time should be able to imprint the passing of the years on an object. The physical decay or natural wear and tear of the materials used does not in the least detract from the visual appeal, rather it adds to it. It is the changes of texture and colour that provide the space for the imagination to enter and become more involved with the devolution of the piece. Whereas modern design often uses inorganic materials to defy the natural ageing effects of time, wabi sabi embraces them and seeks to use this transformation as an integral part of the whole. This is not limited to the process of decay, but can also be found at the moment of inception, when life is taking its first fragile steps toward becoming.”

Andrew Juniper, Wabi Sabi: The Japanese Art of Impermanence


The photo at the top is the floor of our garden shed. It’s a simple structure that we bought new probably 35 years ago. Over the years, the once pristine plywood floor has darkened, taking on a smooth rich patina on the parts that have not pitted or worn away from decades of comings and goings.

It’s a beautiful thing and I often find myself stopping while I’m in there, which is every day, just to take some small pleasure in looking at its worn surface. The fact that it took time and innumerable footsteps to smooth and wear down the surface adds to my appreciation. It’s not something that could be replicated easily. Oh, you could try but it would lose that organic depth that comes with time.

Just a bit of the wabi-sabi of things around us. That’s the Japanese concept of finding beauty in the imperfection and natural wear shown by things.

And I guess that applies to people, as well. I know I am fascinated in seeing how folks age, how their faces and bodies reflect the life they have lived. There is beauty in the lines on the face or the graying of one’s hair.

Of course, I am talking about other people. I don’t find any beauty at all in my wrinkles or my whitened and thinning hair. In fact, I close my eyes now when I walk past my bathroom mirror out of the fear that some old man will jump out of it at me. 

Nah, that’s not true. As much as I would sometimes like to have the smooth skin and the darker, fuller head of hair of my youth, I am satisfied, even pleased, in seeing the wear and tear written on my features. I see a small scar high on my forehead and remember the wound that left it so well. 

It was many years ago and I was playing with my Magpie, our highly charged husky-shepherd, chasing her around our yard. As I pursued her, I went through some low hanging branches on a birch tree next to the deck I was building off the back of our home. Midway through, as I ducked my head lower to avoid the sweep of the branches, I slammed it suddenly into a deck board that I had not yet cut off. I was knocked on my back and could feel the instant throb of pain on my forehead from the blow.

Maggie was on me in an instant, licking and urging me to get up and play some more. I laid there on the ground on my back and just laughed as hard as I could while the blood trickled down my forehead. I tend to laugh at my own misfortune, especially when it is of my own doing, which is almost always the case.

Maybe there is a bit of wabi-sabi in our laughter? Maybe it comes from the recognition of our imperfections, our humanness, in those moments?

And even while I was there on the ground, that same garden shed was not far away, its floor not yet so deeply darkened or worn. It didn’t yet have the accumulated memory of its being written on its surfaces. It was newer but it certainly wasn’t as beautiful.

And maybe that’s the attraction of this concept of wabi-sabi for me, that the wear and tear that appears is evidence of our being here, that we existed in this place and in this time. It’s much the same way in which I view my work, my paintings. Evidence that I was here, that my hand made these things and in some way my voice was heard.

That I, like that garden shed and its floor, had a purpose in this world.

Appreciate and enjoy the wabi-sabi in your own life.

Leaving


“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”

Beryl Markham, West with the Night


Spent some time listening to music from the late Chet Baker this morning. There’s always an abundance of raw emotion in his playing and one selection felt right this morning as I watch the leaves falling outside my studio window. Something quite sad and wistful in seeing the leaves drop on this gray morning, much like the feel of much of Baker’s music.

The song is Leaving from a relatively little known album with the same title from 1980. The photo of Baker that accompanies the track below shows him at a late stage of his life when he was showing the ravages of his drug addiction and a few violent episodes. It’s quite a face.

So, settle back in, sip your coffee, let your mind go and give a listen. Then have a good Sunday.


This Painting Up For Auction Today to Help Our Furry Friends


I thought that for this morning I would just let you know that the painting above, Ask the Night, is up for auction this evening with all funds going directly to the support of our local Chemung County Humane Society and SPCA. It’s all part of an online event on Facebook today, the SPCA Virtual FB Fundraiser, that takes place from 4-7 PM.

The benefit features a variety of different auction items as well as video performances from some very talented folks. You see, this benefit has successfully taken place over the past several years as a Drag Show in a local nightclub. This year, because of the covid-19 restrictions, it simply wasn’t possible to hold an in-person event. But the pandemic doesn’t mean that the dogs and cats and kittens and puppies of this area still don’t need a little help. So, they decided to move the whole show to a Virtual event.

I understand that the performers have really taken to the challenge of producing their video performances so you can expect some pretty great stuff. Plus, you can tip the performers with all tips going directly to the SPCA.

So, if you have some time this afternoon from 4-7 tune in to the SPCA Virtual FB Fundraiser. Or you can put in a bid on any of the featured items right now or any time right up to 7 PM when the auction ends.

The painting I have donated, Ask the Night, is a 10″ by 20″ painting on canvas valued at $1600. The current bid is $1200. 

Anything you can do to lend a hand to our furry friends is deeply appreciated. Here’s a little reminder of who you’ll be helping from the late great Harry Nilsson. Have a great day and, if you can, visit the benefit later today.

Fatherly Advice

My Dad, right, with Jesse Gardner


Since my dad died last week I have been thinking a lot about his life and his influence– and sometimes, lack of influence– on my life. Just trying to see if I can recognize those sometime intangible things he might have passed on. It’s not an easy task because he was not a sentimental person in any way and the idea of him trying to consciously pass on words of advice to any of his kids is unthinkable.

I wish he had because he had a lot of traits that, when I really think about it, are worth passing on.

For example, I don’t ever remember seeing him exhibit fear. I am not saying he was fearless. Who truly is? I think he just faced it and reacted to threats in a in a different way than myself. He was more than likely to react to danger with confidence and an anger directed at the imminent threat. Direct with no overthinking involved. More fight than flight.

Man, I wish I had that trait.

And I don’t remember him worrying or, at least, expressing his worries outwardly. He must have had worries, right? But he never sat wringing his hands while wailing about what might come. It was more of a just-take-it-as-it-comes attitude. 

Man, I wish I had that.

There are a lot of other little things, good and bad, that I could go over but I just wanted to contemplate what he might have really said if asked to give advice to his kids. I doubt that it would have looked anything like the list below that F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote to his daughter in 1933, which was coincidentally the year my dad was born.

That’s probably unfair. My dad was obviously no F. Scott Fitzgerald. But then again, I doubt that Fitzgerald could throw a decent knuckleball.

What advice would you pass on to a young person?

Here’s Fitzgerald’s list:


Things to worry about:

Worry about courage
Worry about Cleanliness
Worry about efficiency
Worry about horsemanship
Worry about…

Things not to worry about:

Don’t worry about popular opinion
Don’t worry about dolls
Don’t worry about the past
Don’t worry about the future
Don’t worry about growing up
Don’t worry about anybody getting ahead of you
Don’t worry about triumph
Don’t worry about failure unless it comes through your own fault
Don’t worry about mosquitoes
Don’t worry about flies
Don’t worry about insects in general
Don’t worry about parents
Don’t worry about boys
Don’t worry about disappointments
Don’t worry about pleasures
Don’t worry about satisfactions

Things to think about:

What am I really aiming at?
How good am I really in comparison to my contemporaries in regard to:

(a) Scholarship
(b) Do I really understand about people and am I able to get along with them?
(c) Am I trying to make my body a useful instrument or am I neglecting it?

–F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1933, Letter to his Daughter


 

Creeped Out


Now this is just my opinion, okay?

I don’t know about any of you out there but I was more than a little creeped out watching the vice-president*** during last night’s debate. 

I don’t think it was dull, studied and almost psychotic drone of his voice. Or the ease with which he gave voice to lies and misinterpretations of popular opinion. Or the doughy pallor of his face that gave him the appearance of a undertaker who seldom leaves his basement workshop. 

I bet he smells like formaldehyde. 

I don’t think is was even that weird pinkness around his eyes, particularly that thing on his left eye.

Or even the fly. Oh, that pesky black fly that found its way to his head and perched prominently there on camera. Like it had finally found the motherlode of all cowpies.

But even that fly couldn’t take more than a couple of minutes of that crap.

No, it was even the fly. I don’t think it’s not any one thing about him that gives me the shivers. Maybe it’s his totality that you see in the coldness of his eyes. It’s there even when they take on a pink tone. 

And maybe coldness is the wrong word. Maybe hollowness would fit better. There is a quality of emptiness about him. And that can be a scary thing because it means that this space is not filled with goodness or grace or mercy. It lacks such things.

It is just a cold and dark hollow space beneath that corpse-like face.

Bone cold and dark.

And I–and again, I point out that this is my opinion– find that creepy as hell.

I used Norman Bates from Psycho to illustrate this post. Maybe I used it because we are in the month of Halloween.

Nah.  It’s there mainly because I see the VP*** as the Norman Bates of VPs. If I were checking into a motel and the VP*** was behind the counter, I would get back in the car and head down the road. But beyond that, there is also a fly connection that seems to fit. Take a look.


GC Myers- Night Comes On





Sounded like the truth
Seemed the better way
Sounded like the truth
But it’s not the truth today

Leonard Cohen, It Seemed the Better Way






Come on in. It’s safe here today. No commentary, even though the lyrics of the song I am featuring have something to say on their own. But even that is subject to your own interpretation.

I will spare you mine.

The song I am featuring today really struck a chord with me this morning. It is from the 2016 Leonard Cohen album, You Want It Darker, which was the last before his death in November of that same year.

A lot of things died that November.

I am sorry. That was commentary.

This song is called It Seemed the Better Way and it features the cantor and male chorus from the Montreal synagogue that Cohen attended as a child. At the time of the song’s release, he described the lyrics of this song as “The feeling of a prayer that’s been there forever, but the spiritual comforts of the past no longer available.

It raises a lot of philosophic questions. But I’ll let you work on those without my input today.

I thought I would accompany this song with a painting at the top that borrows the title and tone of another Leonard Cohen song. It’s Night Comes On and is currently at the West End Gallery. This is one of those personal pieces, those paintings that keep me coming back to look again and again. There seems to be something in these sort of paintings for me that is beyond its shape and form and color and line. It holds something just beyond my comprehension but I somehow understand that it is there even though I don’t yet understand it. 

And I may never understand it. Maybe that’s the point.

If you know what it is, let me know. And if not, I certainly understand that, as well.

Have a good day.