7 years ago I started work on project called “Moonboy and the Rocket”. In the studio we made a papier mâché boy with a head, big and round, like the moon. I painted him and gave him eyes, with arms and legs strung together puppet style.. We made a house for him. I photographed him and drew pictures of him. I started to write the story of his life. It was a lonely story — lost in space — looking for love. At the time it was my story. Yet today I don’t feel connected to it at all. So much has changed — not of my story, but more my perception of it. It’s the most peculiar thing… The magic of art therapy…
Strange things are happening. Recently I've been party to many an intense conversation. No one, it seems, is very happy with the current state of world play.
At least no one I know.
Once upon a time we sat round (with a few drinks) and planned an apartment renovation and talked of fashion — but these topics are no longer on the agenda — things are getting serious… more revolution than renovation. The talk is of the great new uncertainty, the grim disparity of wealth, of individual isolation, lost intimacy, climate change… and the possibilities of a nouveau hippiedom— a quite exciting upside I think!
The 4 performances Dove and I recently saw at the American Realness dance festival all brought up the same question — Why bother??? Why continue making work when a chronic lack of money and funding makes it so difficult to do so? One choreographer, Miguel Gutierrez, whose recent work at the Whitney biennial was conceived, designed, rehearsed, costumed, staged and performed 3 times a day for 2 weeks, had a total budget of less than the price of a Prada hand bag….yes. It’s a curious situation when, for instance, we’re told a Warhol has just sold at auction for $81,900,000… yet each artist felt compelled to continue (thankfully).
In a few days I’m going to be 54. It’s not a thrilling number— just another one. Now I’m over the hump of the shock of being in my fifties — the shock of being… well, at least halfway to the other side. It’s a curious juxtaposition of some new found wisdoms and aspects of all the ages I’ve ever been— an accumulation of feelings you've felt so long, you cant really put a number on them. Dove encourages me to embrace my age — Hollywood doesn't… so I stick to watching foreign films. Recently a few young boys have called me “Sir “ — utterly horrified — it confirms I’ve really no idea what I look like… are my hands are getting wrinkly???
Oh Aquarius — where is it this Age of Enlightenment? I’ve always been ridiculously proud of being an Aquarian… humanitarian, creative, broad minded, frank…truth seekers… pat on the back…etc etc… of course, none of that is guaranteed —
you have to work for it…. or you could end up a victim of a wealth of potential pitfalls...restless, insensitive, addicted, detached and inefficient…
My dad emailed me after last month’s newsletter. Adding fact to the fiction of my childhood memories, he included a rather brilliant story about
my Grandfather (circa 1965)…to quote:
“I walked across to the party with your Grampy. You may remember that he was a bit of a dour and serious character. On the way he told me that in his opinion there were two main inventions of the devil laid as a curse on society. The first was the saxophone, the second the cocktail party."
I’d love his take on 2015……
Pictured above right
Makes: 1 cocktail
1 1/2 oz Plymouth gin
1/2 oz Bittermens Baska Snaps
1/2 oz honey syrup
1/4 oz Angostura bitters
Stir together all ingredients except Angostura. Pour over 1 extra large ice cube into a rocks glass. Float the Angostura on top of the cocktail by slowly pouring directly into the center of the cube. Use a straw to spin the cube in the glass. The cocktail will blend and change from yellow to bright red.
Honey Syrup: Stir together 2 parts honey to 1 part water until combined. Do not heat.