Wednesday, December 27, 2006

First Post

This past fall I went to Salem to talk to a class and while there, met up with an old art pal from high school named Ross. It seems nearly impossible that one could even have an ‘art pal’ that young, but it was so much due to him. He showed me the way and in so many ways. He was a Warhol freak and this was 1970. Not a lot of people were into Andy then. He hadn’t shaped the last part of the 20th century so finally yet.

This was the first time we had seen in each other in about 2 decades. Ross told me how he sensed years ago that the art world was a tough place and maybe not worth an effort so often callously dissed. My friend went in for a more private art.

Since that day I’ve thought a lot about where I went lately. Basically, there, in the thick of it but the impulse which makes art is not the same impulse which makes art career. Matthew Collings had a book out on the NY art world called It Hurts. I wondered about the title at the time, but no more.

Last year when I was there, it was my visit time in a while and my skin had grown thin. At one point I actually packed my not-rich self into a cab just to get out of Chelsea, and on the double please, to Bergdorf’s midtown. After all, I would still be surrounded by beautiful things giving me an education. I just wouldn’t have that immersion in no-eye-contact. That’s a measure you take for granted till you don’t have it.

Like I said in my diary at Lovelake, this is, like any blog, an experiment. I’ve written all kinds of diaries it seems, but now I am going to ask you for words. Artists, via Artstar Radio, gave me so many words and I have learned a lot from them. I have to add that I am feeling a little fragile now. Be brutal on the world but ease into me. Thanks.

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