Creative Calamities

I am not one to name drop but I am sure that are a number of people out there thinking, OMG!! Chris Brown!!

Now, let me take a moment to explain that my lunch was with Westchester based singer songwriter Chris Brown who plays a mean acoustic guitar sings with a James Taylor style of music. Not to be mistaken for, which he often is, the Hip-Hop/R&B superstar Chris Brown. Now the Chris Brown I know was performing under the name Chris Brown long before the other Chris Brown was born, but occasionally he is still greeted by disappointed teens showing up at his gigs expecting someone else.

I used to work with Chris who is also a talented graphic artist. When we worked together I would often hang around well past my appointed time to throw ideas at him about innovations, breaking molds and plain ole art. From time to time we still meet up to talk about old times, new times and new ideas.

Yesterday our conversation ended with a tinge of disappointment in his deep Barry White like voice. He asked if I had been painting. I hung my head and mumbled . . . no. Paint he rumbled. . . PAINT!

I spent a good part of my day working on four panels that are a part of a larger 12 panel piece.

Thanks for the nudge my friend.

A work in progress

The other day while having a conversation with my wife, I held my hand in from of my face and exclaimed, whoa!! She asked if I had lost my wedding ring again. I said no, just an idea on a modification of a watch design, and sorry to disturb what she was saying. My mind just wandered a bit.

I felt really bad that ideas are popping in my mind in the middle of conversations but the other day I read in The New York Times an article entitled, Discovering the Virtues of a Wandering Mind. It extolls that wandering minds and daydreaming are great for creativity. The opening line . . . At long last, the doodling daydreamer is getting some respect.

So the next time I zone out in the middle of a conversation I can just explain that I was working.

I carry this memo pad with me whenever I can to jot down fleeting ideas, inventions and designs that waft across my consciousness.

As I prepare to begin for my first teaching job at a junior college, I felt I needed insight into how teachers deal with students beyond just the teaching of materials. A few years ago I read the book Angela’s Ashes, the Pulitzer Prize winning memoir of Frank McCourt. He tells of his poor and “miserable” childhood in Ireland. I loved the book and knew he had later written a book about his years teaching English in the New York City public school system entitled Teacher Man.

I finished the book last week. It put my mind at ease to learn from his experiences and to know that he didn’t always know what to do, took risks and experimented in order to find his way. To know that he survived 30 years with all manner of students; the good, the bad and the imposing students with black belts in karate gave me comfort.

Yesterday I had an interview a the Bronx Community College for an adjunct position. I arrived early and wandered through the empty stifling air-conditionless building, popping my head into old and weathered classrooms.

Outside the Art Department office, there was a bust of Albert Einstein. A wad of gum stuck in his right nostril and there were traces of gum that has been scraped from the other. I smiled to myself and though, I can do this.

Often while enjoying a meal or walking down the street something ordinary and often fleeting may catch my eye. In the middle of dessert to the surprise of my friends I began admiring the artistic quality of my half eaten dessert and had an impromptu photo session with my brownie and gelato.

Abstract Dessert: For a moment it was art.

I first became aware of the book Life of Pi more than a year ago, when the image of a small brown skinned boy curled up in a fetal position on a life boat with a tiger four times his size caught my eye, one day at the library. I have checked the book out three times before it finally took hold.

I thought to mention the book several times as it has perfectly enthralled me. I have chucked often, and thought deeply as well. I appreciate the wonderfully sculpted words of the author Yann Martel. One image that made me chuckle with delight was the encounter at a zoo between Pi (the protagonist) and two of his religious mentors, Mr. Kumar and Mr. Kumar.

I have yet to finish, but this quote grab ahold of me last night and I felt the need to to share.

“I must say a word about fear. It is life’s only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unnerving ease. It begins in your mind, always … so you must fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because if you don’t, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.”

— Yann Martel – Life of Pi

When I cook I find it difficult to stick with a recipe. I almost always throw something in a pot that wasn’t called for in a recipe or buy something strange to cook. Yesterday my experimental nature got the better of me when I purchased a whole fish at my local Japanese food market.

Porgy marinating in soy sauce, cooking sake and sesame oil.

On a whim I decided to challenge myself to cook a whole fish (something I’d never done before). At the check-out counter I felt a bit of pride in my effort as I thought I heard the the woman bagging my groceries say in Japanese to the woman at the register that it was rare to see an American purchasing a whole fish.

But when I made it home and began preparing the fish, I just felt pity for the little guy as I held his limp body in my hands and he stared back at me. Not exactly a fish stick.

The taste was wonderful but I think I will be cooking vegetarian for the remainder of the week.

About a week ago I received an email from one of my former professors at the University of Miami inviting me, and several other alumni who now live in the New York area, to display work in their booth at the Red Dot Art Fair. They secured a booth not long before the fair opened so we all had less than a week to select and prepare work for the show.

I often have trouble deciding what is my best work, so I asked a number of people who’s opinion I respect. What I learn was a reinforcement of what I already know to be true. Art is subjective and many of the opinions simply added to my confusion over what to show. In the end, I decided on my favorite painting, Buddha (inspired by a night in Tokyo at Buttu Trick-Bar), my wife’s favorite, Gion (inspired by a night in Kyoto before the Gion Festival) and The Bassist (inspired by a bassist playing at Terra Blues on Bleeker Street and painted while listening to Charles Mingus).

The Bassist almost didn’t make in in the show because space was tight and I almost left it in my car when I delivered my other two piece. And this was after fighting with the piece for 10 minutes to squeeze it in my car and driving with my head cocked to one side on the hour drive into Manhattan. Much to my surprise someone took interest in that piece, I took their card and they took mine. No sale today but I am keeping my fingers crossed for the future.

I have been a bit out of touch with the art world and I learned a lot of things this week, or at least a lot of things to contemplate in my next few posts.

View from outside the warehouse exhibition space and inside at the University of Miami's booth.

While out on a run on the Old Croton Aqueduct trail, I stumbled upon a Farmers’ Market in my neighborhood. I was very surprised to see all the produce, cooked food, baked goods, preserves, fresh fish and even crafts in the middle school parking lot.

Since I worked for newspapers most of my adult life I have usually worked when most people are at leisure. While strolling through, I ran into a reporter who lives in the neighborhood and she touted that the lasagna was worth coming back for. Neil, my mechanic who’s shop is around the corner taps me on the shoulder to say hello.

I made my way home and came back with my wife. The lasagna was sold out so we had the chicken masala from the local Indian restaurant. We sat at a picnic table and enjoyed the evening breeze, watched children play and listen to the singer sing and strum his guitar. It brought to mind an old Micheal J. Fox movie, Doc Hollywood.

This place felt small town today. I felt a connection. It felt good.

Irvington Farmers' Market

After seeing the movie (500) Days of Summer, I felt the desire to take my wife to Manhattan for a day of fun a surprises.

In movies I often see “awesome date” scenes when couples go somewhere, (and everywhere in a single day) and they have the most magical time. In (500) Days, this typical montage was sprinkled with ink drawings. So fully inspired, I attempted to do my own.

Our first stop was the carousel at Bryant Park. I began sketching. Forgetting how long this can take, boredom overtakes my wife. We walk through the Brazilian Day Festival on 6th Ave. and every photo and video I take . . . no magic. An over crowded Japanese tea house, a closed lunch automat . . . oh what a “Calamity” I thought.

Then I stumbled across the Roman Ondak exhibit at MoMA and all is well. My wife apologetically disappears shopping a short spell and I sketch a familiar hot dog vendor. A perfect movie like memory forms in my mind of a visit to MoMA, the vendor singing, my wife and I purchasing a bag of chestnuts and walking away shoulder to shoulder cracking open the hot treats.

I guess somethings have to just happen naturally.

Hot dog vendor outside of MoMA

“What’s for dinner?” my wife asks.

I groan.

“Aren’t we playing ‘Chopped’ again?”

She gives me half an orange bell pepper, onions and eggplant for my challenge.

With a 45 minute deadline pressing me, my dislike of the chore begins to fade, just like my days as a graphic journalist. In the past I might find myself sitting on a beach only to be interrupted with a phone call to come to work on news of something tragic that needs visual description.

Initially . . . and always, I would loath the interruption, but soon, being in the pressure cooker takes over, and all I see is the task before me, the intensity heightens and all other thoughts and tensions melt away.

I stir-fry the mixture of ingredients, then stuff and roast the pepper. I make a cream sauce with corn and milk for a splash of color.

Once again it passes my wife’s taste test with a single criticism of a too sweet sauce.

She scored me “Iron Chef” style — 5/5 for presentation, 5/5 for originality, 7/10 for taste.

Stuffed pepper and sweet corn sauce.