FourthStreetStudio in Berkeley with Cam

Gail Machlis' work on display at the 4th Street Studio and Gallery.


Great work at this studio/gallery down in the revitalized fish market area in Berkeley. Walking distance from Spengers. Cammie and I both liked the whimsical nature of Gail Machlis' work. Fun...well done and very affordable (even for originals).

Opening

Proud Dad

I am so proud of Camille and how she conducts herself. She is courteous, engaging and self-confident (without being arrogant...just spirited). She easily engages adults and is a keen observer.

Presents

Ecstacy causes blurring

She loved the Eloise book!

Dinner at Spengers in Berkeley

I wanted to take Camille someplace special for her 10th birthday. I took Ad to a World Series game on his 10th and, well, there is no way to duplicate that. But a nice dinner out at a nice restaurant, and a walk to window shop and a gallery visit seemed good. It was and Camille is a delightful date and great conversationalist. She started with the fried calamari and a Shirley Temple. Then had an herb encrusted salmon filet served on an onion, apple and bacon hash. Extremely yummy (she shared a bite).

Zoe...er...Camille

A special birthday dessert at Spengers. A hoit fudge stuffed chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream and raspberry sauce.

In this picture, Cammie looks like Zoe from the Francis Ford Coppola short film in New York Stories "Life Without Zoe".

Camille's presents

A love for books runs through our whole family on both sides and also extends to Lori and my signifcant others. Roy (Lori's husband) is in the publishing business and quite successful. Leslie (my girlfriend) is an accomplished editor for Time-Warner.

Camille loved her books. She was ecstatic about Eloise in Paris and plans to collect the whole series. She explained all the characters to me.

Camille's Room

Impressive in its organization.

Adam and Camille

Adam is a great big brother even if he doesn;t believe in Ringo Starr.


That's right. According to Camille, Adam is an aringostarrian. Disbelieves in his existence and his druimming (ironic since he is a drummer).

Adamhas a great heart. I have written about this elsewhere. So it is not unusual for him to spontaneously hug his sister for no obvious reason. I really like and respect that about him. He has a generosity of spirit, a lot like brother Thomas.

His mom bought him an extra long bed today. At about the same age my mom took me to Sears for the same. He's gotta be 6'2" by now and growing fast. I think he may pass me, which would be kinda fun.

This picture is very reminiscent of one I took of Sean and Thomas hugging when they were 2 and 3.5.

Crab Box

Cammie ("Cami" is her spelling) is the 3rd Mac to own the box.


I owned it originally. It came with a microscope set that I tried to use...but really what do you do with it?

Later I just kept the box and gave it to Thomas who used to to keep his elaborate collection of crab artifacts and shells from Pt. Reyes.

Then Cammuie wanted it and decided it needed a good painting. It still has Tosco's crab shells and some new stuff. But I really like the design.

Tonight at our private dinner celebrating her 10th birthday we talked aboput many things including the box (she described what she had decided to do...I love it) and also things like names. As far as Macs go she is the only other CCM or CCMac (Christopher Carl and Camille Catherine) and Thomas and I are both Christopher MacDonalds (Thomas Christopher).

Matisse & Thiebaud

The Red Studio, by Henri Matisse.



I'm a beginning painter. My teacher's work (J. Rod Swenson) can be seen HERE. he lives in Taipei now with LizAnn and comes back to Sacrmento twice a year to sell his paintings.

His coloration is deeply influenced by Matisse as are some of his subjects. He, in turn, has influenced me and my coloration to come extent (not to the fullest).

So, in a way, I am one of Matisse's bastard step grand-children. I unabashedly also admit that Van Gogh and Monet have influenced me as well. And in a very real sense, just as Modernity leaves me fairly cold, so do the Modernist painters. I can admire Pollock's balls (apparently many did), and Picasso. But their works often appear to me more like philosophical treatises than transportive art.

While I would go farther than Malraux (Andre, not Maugham) and his statement that "art is the last defense against death," I do get his meaning and agree with it to an extent. The last defense against death is resurrection. Art is a fine way to open up to that. That's part of why I paint my cityscapes.

To see the best cityscapes Wayne Thiebaud has no equal. He, like Swenson and myself, are from Sacramento. I had the dubious distinction of doing artwork for the Mather AFB newspaper for a season...a job Thiebald once had in the 60s. Other than those two facts, and that we both work with oils and do cityscapes...there is no real connection at all. I stand in utter awe. Viewing his work is like pure heroin with no side effects.

You can go to MOMA in SF, or the deYoung and or go to the Thiebaud Gallery in either San Francisco or New York. The current exhibits there run through December 22.

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Entry Hall

Moon's building is cool and has gone through some careful and tasteful reclamation of times past.

Up Close

Moon admires part of the three huge Waterlilies panels by Claude Monet at MOMA



Of course it has become passe to be into Claude Monet, which is just dumb once you actually see his genius in front of you. Sure, his work has now, so ironically, become so over exposed as to become branding.

But there it is at MOMA and it is quite a surprise...up close.

I do not paint often enough, but when I do, it is a wrestling match that seems unending. Particularly difficult is how to lay down paint and work it in such a way that works up close also works from a distance...the distance people will view the final painting from. They often seem to be different paintings entirely.

But they aren't, and Monet is no different. Up close the work is brutish and seems almost haphazard. It isn't either when viewed from 20 feet away. Whisps of green, yellow and purple that look childlike upclose, draw the eye in from afar. It works spectacularly, which was a great part of Monet’s genius. You sit or stand with people from all nations visiting Manhattan and get an even deeper sense of the differences of time and culture that you will not find in Marin (where an antique is 80 years old). But you can see I am headed somewhere with this (“he’s always headed somewhere”). Since Moon and I began dating in July the question of our viability, given our 2600 mile long couch, has come into healthy question. It is a question we may not be able to answer fairly because Moon was contemplating moving West to the Bay Area before she met the Dredd Pirate MacStang. It only sweetened the allure and brought genuine terror to the notion for her (I hope I can speak for you darling).

I’ve certainly not disappointed in either category, which gets to the core matrix of the matter: How can you truly get to know someone at all and have a sense of normalcy when you only see them from a distance?

The very real questions about “reality” verses fantasy have to be addressed. In other words, the paint up close on the canvas needs to be viewed every bit as much as taking in the whole picture. That is why they have museums…so you can get up close and physically see.

Of course there are visits. Moon has been to Marin three times, I am currently in New York for my first time. The real issue, for me, is the same as when we were first talking. Because we could not see each other right away, we could not be simply swept away and leave real issues and deeper communication in the dust of lust. We had to talk about all though other “things”. This has worked out for us. In fact, when we hit some early snags (usually my inherent issues) it was just that foundation of honest communication and safe disclosure that helped give us the space to wait and allow those things to iron themselves out.

Still, without a core attraction to work from we would now simply be very good friends. I might still be visiting, just sleeping on the couch.So we continue to move forward.

One surprise, for me, was how much baggage I was packing that I was unaware of. I had not made the little connections like my being a virtual recluse for two years might make spending every moment with someone for three days a small strain. You cannot see everything and it will drive you mad if you try. So, better to have the tools in place to talk openly and with kindness and respect. Now a month or so after that time Moon and I were together in California and in NY for eleven days. Not only was it not a problem, she is going to miss my cooking.

I have no answers for those in long-term long distance relationships with no end in sight except to say one of you has to eventually move. This is not easy with issues of kids, jobs, area aesthetics, friends, etc. But if you want a real partner you may have to look hard at those issues and decide what you both want.

Me? I want Moon to move to the Bay Area and setup shop so we can keep dating and growing a relationship. Why couldn’t I find a woman in the Bay Area (Lord knows I dated enough) to be this interested in? I dunno. Maybe the distance factor brings a seriousness and openness to real sacrifice that local relationships do not as easily afford?

Please do comment!!

P.S. I liked MOMA very much, but for my money, give me the MOMA in SF or the deYoung. They play less to covering every base and they don’t have that damned “steeel cube” or the “plexiglass sculpture”. Ah Manhattan

Nioe Shoes...

The three-paneled Monet is amazing.

Subway to MOMA

Moon and I wait for the Subway.



When Moon and I first started writing she sent me a picture of herself waiting for the subway. It was a beautiful shot full of complexities. As she describes herself "complex, but not complicated". So true.

Now she has a different look. Connected, engaging, found and finding. I feel the same.

Ray's Barber Shop Circa 2007, and 1962.




Moon's neighborhood is mostly Dominican with smatterings of Italians, Blacks, Anglos, and Asians. It’s extremely bilingual. The scene in the McDonald’s was amazing to me with orders being given and taken in both Spanish and English as naturally as if the Tower of Babel had never happened. The Hispanic boy behind the counter got my order wrong, but only because he was flirting with a young Black girl.

It's friendly here and I immediately sensed a lot of subtexts within the neighborhood. Little understandings and stories that shape it. There are insiders and outsiders. I'm an outsider but am treated well.

I passed by Ray's Barber Shop near the corner the next day on my way to fast breakfast protein. The guy (presumably Ray) was standing in the window while his employees worked. He eyed me…or rather my poofy Clinton-esque hair. He eyed me like a carrion does on my way back.

Later Moon told me about him. He knows everyone in the neighborhood and expects to cut their hair. A neighbor here in Moon’s building had his own stylist that he went to. Once the stylist was not available and he went down to Ray’s. When he walked in, Ray said flatly “It’s about time. Sit down please.”

So it was no mistake that as a new guy in the neighborhood with obviously bad hair, that I was an immediate mark. I could almost feel Ray’s foot tapping the next day when I went his way.

Walking into Ray’s was like a time warp back to the barber shop in Kensington (San Diego). The same equipment from 1962 (when the buzz in the shop was the Cuban Missile Crisis)…and the same people. I swear. It’s like the shop that time forgot.

I have had this experience before. When I was eight my family and I traveled to Inverness (the one near Pt. Reyes Station) and we went to Vladimir’s Czechoslovakian restaurant. Vladdy was a grey haired old man who made the place fun and poured the wine liberally for my parents as I tried my first oyster (Gah!!).If you go to Vladimir’s today, over 40 years later, it’s the same grey-haired guy tending bar and making jokes and filling your glass like it’s free (it’s not).

Ray actually wasn’t there.. He already sensed I was his and took the rest of the day off.I have to tell you, there is nothing like getting the full treatment in an old world barber shop. They take their time…and yours. As you may or may not have noticed (from my previous post) I lost not only my poofy hair but all my facial hair. And it was a grand way to do it. The chair must have been built in the 20s and reclined way back. Then came the mentholated pre-towel elixir which is like a local. They like you steep in that then follow with hot towels. About then I expected Howard Sprague to walk in and take over.

Thankfully he didn’t.

He grabbed handfuls of lather from the ancient chrome and solid steel dispenser and set up shop on my shoulder with a straight razor...humming the whole time. (yeah yeah…I remembered that scene from The Untouchables where DeNiro, playing Capone, is cut by the shaky barber).

After shaved, there is a ritual of asking how it is and was. Well it is more of a statement “It is good, no?” Then laughs. Yeah.I emerged an hour and twenty minutes later, 30 bucks and 30 pounds of hair lighter.

I was happy…then I remembered when I first saw my mentor Kevin without his mustache. He looked really different and weird for a week or so till I got use to it. I get to see Moon face to face maybe once a month for a few days. Uh-oh…

Amazing architecture

Entry Hall at 60 Cooper

Manhattan at Dawn-ish

Bitterman! Through the PARK!

T-Plus Two Days in Manhattan

Remember the burned out case at SFO (see below). Here I am two days later after being given the "whole business" down at Ray's Barber shop in Inwood.

Different man in a different city with a different look and a different feel.

Ready to explore.

Morning in Manhattan

Moon got home exhausted from the all night flight AND a full days work and we fell into a coma till 6:30 the next morning.

Then we got up, had coffee and tea and headed for a long walk through the local park in Inwood.

Just a few blocks from her building the City turns from urban to country in a moment.

New York in November. Beautiful.

Finian the Watchcat

Don't mess with this one or he'll love you to death.

Cat's either love me or hate me. Kind of like people. I had not let myself in the apartment but 4 minutes and sat down on the royal throne but Finian came up, climbed up my knee so that both paws were on top, stretched out his long neck and nosed me...nose to nose.

So we bonded immedately as Moon knew we would.

Here is a great picture towards the end of my trip. All three of us cuddled on the couch (three total affectionados).

T-Minus 1 Hour and Bone Tired

This is a tired man. He has another 9-11 hours to go before he naps for 90 minutes in Manhattan. I had been up for the better part of 17 hours already and still feeling weak. But I had made it this far. I figured I could sleep on the plane. I figured wrong.


The flight is delayed. Then delayed again. And again.

Finally at 12:30 a.m. we boarded and took off for JFK at around 1 a.m. PST.

So it took almost as long to get from Marin to the inside of the airplane at SFO as it did to get from SFO to the outside of the plane at JFK.

The flight was murder. I never slept. The cabin was cramped. They kept offering me drinks which I refused (I don't drink) and most of the advanced gizmos on the Virgin America view screens did not work. Worse we hit major turbulence and the woman two seats over was freaking.

I arrived at JFK around 8:30 a.m. EST and was absconded by a very nice man with a Limo of sorts (and sort of beefed up fancy SUV Limo) for the same price as a Cab. I arrived at 60 Cooper Street exhausted but happy to be in New York. My only worry was the cat...