October Rust

2008-09-22T07:14:00.000-07:00

Mabon has arrived today. I am both happy and melancholy. I'm not sure what this feeling means, exactly. I love Autumn more than any season, yet there is a plaintive sense of being. I can't explain it. It just is. And yet it's a feeling so beautiful, as if laughing with tears. As if harboring an exquisite grief. Ah, I struggle with words. I am rich in feeling, poor in description. That's what I love about music, especially classical. It can capture immense emotion with no words or pictures.

There are so many things I want to do, and yet haven't moved to do them. When I think that a whole month has passed since I wrote in here, I'm shocked. How in the world can a whole month have passed since the Warhol party? It does not seem possible. Perhaps I should do a small bit each day? Why can't I keep something going with consistency?

Scribble it

2008-08-28T08:24:00.001-07:00

Haven't been here in so long, and I just want to catch up. I've been around deleting a lot of other places I visit, because I just can't keep up with them. It's a shame that one can't get all friends on one site. But, not going to happen. So I went around and decided where I like to be the most. And one of those is here. I just think this is a beautiful blog. Also, I am going to be posting over at Live Journal, where I've been for about 6 years. I really like it over there, as well. I'm determined to get myself moving and fill my life creatively. I'm a mess most of the time so hey, just be a mess. Nothing wrong with that. So I'm going to scribble a lot. I haven't worked on my Chelsea art in over two months. I've been doing other crap that hasn't really resulted in any one great thing. SEE? Defeatist. I think I'll cut and paste what I wrote about the Warhol party because I'm not going to write all of that again... I went to an Andy Warhol Factory party at the Brooks Museum this past Saturday (August 23) I was invited to go with Doug and Laurie Daniel. I have a membership to the museum and got an invitation but I would have had to upgrade to Fellow level to attend this hoity toity party, so I didn't think I would get to go until that darling Doug called! Soo....the Warhol Avant Garde Factory Party:

The party Saturday night was so amazing. Man, I had no idea it was going to be that great. I sure like going to rich peoples' parties. You walked up a black carpet and went in. At the entrance tables they gave you those glo-strips that you could wrap around your ankle or arm or neck, and some kind of psychedelic glasses that were prismatic, so when you put them on inside the party, all the lights had rainbow auras and star light. Amazing. There were open bars, and you can have all the drinks you want. And the great thing was, they had several tables and bartenders set up in all the party rooms, so that there wasn't a line. Some parties I've been to that had open bar, they'll have one table for drinks and you're lucky if you get one. Not at this party! Every room had one or two bars. And if there was a line, there would only be one or two people in front of you. The three martinis they had were called Ultra Violet martini, Chelsea Girls cocktail, and Kettle of Fish martini (which was day- glo green with a gummi fish at the bottom!) They were beautiful to look at. The Ultra Violet martini was my favorite ( I lost count how many I had) The Chelsea Girl cocktail was made with blackberry vodka (I think it was) and man, it was an ass kicker. The Kettle of Fish was sort of vanilla flavored. And they served those drinks in those beautiful martini glasses (not stupid plastic) with those glow sticks. They had plush white couches and huge white leather chairs and those square tables that were lighted. On the tables they had fiber optic center pieces. They had waiters going around with trays of hor'dourves that were amazing! One waiter was going around with jello shooters. The fruit ones were really good--the lime ones about kicked my butt. The lights were flashing and reflecting everywhere. It was so beautiful! They had a psychedelic dance floor and this big screen showing all those Warhol/Factory/60's images. They had an oxygen bar that was all lit with pink and blue lights and flavored oxygen. This one table was covered in candies from the 60's, and you just helped yourself. It was laid out with gigantic glass carafes full of gummie candies and dip stix and those big candy straws and wax candy and candy cigarettes and candy bracelets and necklaces. It was beautiful. I wish I'd gotten a picture of it up close. It looked so great!

That was the huge main room, then you went down the hall and there was a dining area with round tables and glo-center pieces. In a side room, there was a photographer taking pictures. They had costumes and accesories from the 60's if you wanted to use them, and then you'd get the picture "Warhol-ized" meaning they made them into weird colors. The room with the food...I've never seen food like that. It was all perfect, a buffet style laid out on huge round tables. It was a feast--everything from soba noodles to vegetable pot stickers and herbs to breaded quail to curry potatoes, roasted beef on arranged vegetables. And some of the food I don't know how to explain what it was, and don't know the name, all I know was it was heavenly! OH..and they had a huge carnival-type cotton candy machine. You went over and you could choose blue, purple or red and it was made right then and swirled on one of those paper cones!

Outside on the balcony was an inflated twister game, another dj, and lights and dancing and tables and lights and of course, another bar. There was also a balloon popping game, which was hilarious. But popping balloons freak me out so I really didn't stay there but a minute Another room was all aluminum foil and had a screen and WI set up to play. And when you wanted to , you could go downstairs to the Warhol exhibit. I didn't go down there cuz I've seen it already.

M and I are members of the museum and can go any time free, but for these parties, you have to be on the Fellow level, which is quite a bit. Doug and Laurie took us as their guests...what a lucky break! We got invitations to it, since we're members, but we're on the basic level, so we would have had to upgrade to a Fellow level, which we couldn't. So when Doug invited us, I couldn't believe it! I was so jazzed!!! And all the tables had different things arranged on them. Some of the tables had glow in the dark slinkys and yo yos! So I brought some of those home. I wish I'd taken my camera instead of just having my phone so I could have gotten some really amazing pictures, but I think my phone did okay.

And another thing. I am working on my website again. And I've decided that since I never like anything I do, then fine. Do it, but not like it. Who cares.

2008-08-11T15:14:00.000-07:00

We all like to see where we're going. We would love to read all the cards and have the Ouija tell us which way to turn, who loves us. Will I get a spot on the merry-go-round? Perhaps. Ask again later. These halls have many shadows. Some people can't see in the dark or in the light. I try to see with eyes closed. Other times, I have on contacts and glasses and can't see a thing. Other times I can see everything at once, and want to cry out to the Corn Moon to turn it off.

Or perhaps Lady Luna will whisper an answer.
No?
Yes?
Goobye.

Complimentary...complementary.

2008-08-11T15:07:00.000-07:00

Okay, not really complementary, but close. Not exactly yellow and purple, or orange and blue...but close. And tilted. A window. Steps going nowhere. Reflections. A big city out there. Completely quiet inside. Stoic. Solid. Unmoving.

But forgiving. At least I think so. A gentle heart

Some things are in the top 40 of commercialism, but truly don't mean to be there, or don't need to be there. They don't fit in. Not with the gray masses. They are unique. Yellow and blue, with reflections. And there's a white light way out there. And Exit...but there's no exit. It stops. Then what do you do when you find out you really don't know the lyrics? Can you make them up on the spot? Will she listen?

Will you compliment? Or complement? Or will you just mouth the words---the words that you don't understand?

What's in a Name...

2008-07-25T08:30:00.000-07:00

That sign. I'll never forget walking into the red room and seeing that name, bigger than life, right outside a very-dirty window-- huge window, at that. And the man said "welcome home." I'm not sure I feel at home there, but I feel as if it's one of my comfortable havens. After he left I went over and slid that huge window open. I could have reached out and touched the sign. I could have touched the name. I should thank the Art commission. Or maybe tax payers?

But there it was. And while I was there, I couldn't exactly figure it all out--no better than I can at this moment.

I'm reading Virginia Wolfe's essay "A Room of One's Own." I wonder if I will make a connection? Are there really coincidences? Or is there no such thing? Are these affairs of daily life a paradox or a phenomenon? Are they whispers from angels or just hiccups from spirits? Do circumstances form in a moment? Or are they detailed plans of the gods, complete with cross-reference and footnotes?

I have no idea.

I do know that Heath Ledger was there at one time.
What a--coincidence?
Or, what difference does it make?

Amber.

2008-07-20T19:22:00.000-07:00

Right now it's so hot outside. It's dark, at night, but it's still almost 90 degrees. I've never stayed at the Chelsea when it was really hot or really cold, so I wonder what these halls feel like in the extremes. I never noticed if the halls were cold or hot. They must be moderate temperature, because I'm sure I would have noticed. All I do know is that most of them have muted light. And now, in the days of eternal heat and light, I would love to spend these long hot afternoons in that secluded hall or in one of the darkened, cold rooms.

PS...

2008-07-18T12:20:00.000-07:00

I was actually going to do Art a Day for a month. I started. Two days later? Nothing. So I kept it going for one day.

How depressing.

Heat. July. Unhappy...

2008-07-18T12:12:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's been so long since I posted in here. I can't believe how much time goes by and I don't seem to get anything done. I know there are things I've done, but it's not enough. It's never enough. But what exactly is "enough?" I've done things. Is my self judgment too harsh? I think so. In fact, I know I don't need to change what I do, but instead, change my judgment of what I do.

It's baking hot today. July has truly arrived. I haven't posted the page to July in Grove of Seasons. How can I not get one page done a month? What do I do all the time? Why don't I actually get things done, instead of all the middle things done? Nothing is finished.

I'm posting this amazing photo from the Hotel Chelsea, taken on an amazing, cool night...rain. Glorious rain. If we have another heat-ridden drought, with blaring sun, 100-degree plus weather, and a plethora of BUGS, I am going to lose my mind.

I'll just sit in Chelsea dreams until October.

Sara, you're the poet in my heart...

2008-06-15T17:57:00.000-07:00

I got the idea to paint Nancy. This is the practice drawing, but I got the idea of doing another grisaille oil on canvas. So I've been practicing drawing her, and I might do that. Then I remembered that she's a Pisces

I kept hearing the song Sara by Stevie Nicks. And I'm not really a Stevie fan, and I don't know why it came on at that moment, or why I thought of Nancy. But then I thought Nancy was singing to me in my head. NO, I'm not crazy. Well, maybe a little. But these words:

Written by Stevie nicks.

Wait a minute baby...
Stay with me awhile
Said you'd give me light
But you never told be about the fire

Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
And now its gone
It doesn't matter anymore
When you build your house
Call me home

And he was just like a great dark wing
Within the wings of a storm
I think I had met my match -- he was singing
And undoing the laces
Undoing the laces

Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
And now its gone
It doesn't matter anymore
When you build your house
Call me home

Hold on
The night is coming and the starling flew for days
Id stay home at night all the time
Id go anywhere, anywhere
Ask me and I'm there because I care

Sara, you're the poet in my heart
Never change, never stop
And now its gone
It doesn't matter what for
When you build your house
Ill come by

Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
And now its gone
It doesn't matter anymore
When you build your house
Call me home

All I ever wanted
Was to know that you were dreaming
(theres a heartbeat
And it never really died)

Then I thought about doing a painting of Dee Dee Ramone, as well. And then one of Sid. And if I do that, then Aileen will be in a category of her own--which she is. I like that idea. Maybe even do a sort of altar or triptyche of some sort, the Chelsea Trinity. I could build something out of wood and attach it with hinges, where it would open. And maybe have different numbers around the outside, coinciding with the tarot card readings and certain dates, room numbers, floors of the Chelsea.

Nancy...

And now its gone
It doesn't matter anymore
When you build your house
Call me home

...makes me cry.

I'm thinking about a series of trees. I want to paint my Labrinyth Tree and my Number Tree.

We went to Faulkners house last week. I love that house so much. And the grounds remind me of the Grove of Seasons, except in summer colors. The Grove does have green, lush areas, I'm sure, but it also has the Fall colors.

I need to look up painting on masonite. I think the preparation is simply to gesso it, but I'm not sure.

Nancy...

Hold on
The night is coming and the starling flew for days
Id stay home at night all the time
Id go anywhere, anywhere
Ask me and I'm there because I care

I do. I care.

Those stairs

2008-06-03T08:04:00.000-07:00

I was just looking at this Prismacolor pencil drawing of the first floor steps. These have a deep meaning to me. I dreamed about them long before I ever visited there. I always thought it was a house--in my dream, I mean. When I found the steps, I fell to pieces, and I have no idea why. That was years ago, and I still have no idea why. But they mean something, and I'm going to go that way. I'm going to walk up and down these halls and these steps in the halls of my mind until I find the no-thing that speaks to me.

I just want to do more and more and more. So far my favorites are all color pencil and oil paint. So I'll just use those for now.

Asking forgiveness

2008-06-03T08:01:00.000-07:00

I feel like I need to put the original painting in here so that I can compare it to the other works. I keep saying I don't like it, but you know what? I'm going to stop that. It's my baby too. I want to honor it. And I do honor it. It's beautiful. It is what it is, and it's one of the important steps in my journey.

So here's to you, first Chelsea painting that is hanging over my mantle! You are beautiful and I love you!

Corel work

2008-06-03T07:54:00.000-07:00

I just found this painting I did last year in Corel Painter. It's from an older photograph of the Chelsea. It's not the 10th floor, but I remember when I did this, I loved the painterly affect it had. The large painting I'd done of the hotel Chelsea didn't have the painterly quality. It was all Emporer and no Empress. This one is full of passion, movement. Although the practice one I just finished this weekend isn't as lose as this one, I'm getting there! I'd forgotten about these. It seems so easy in Corel painter, using the Wacom tablet to make something look like this. But considering the photo was cloned underneath it, I dunno..it always seems like cheating. But I still had to paint over it, digital or no. I know I can draw it, so that's not a problem. I still sound like I'm making excuses, like I cheated or something. I feel that's what the painters used to feel when photography was first introduced.

Also I found this one...and I really love how this one looks, so lose, so buttery, so melting. I know where this is...this is the first floor, middle hallway, looking down towards where Sid and Nancy's room was. I hope to do one like this as well. And I was even thinking of perhaps doing them on Corel and then painting the large oil painting from looking at the Corel version. That would be two steps from the original photograph--three steps from the original place.

I love white outlines. I did some works with those white outlines. I think I'll put the other work, both practice and finished into the Arcane Harvest blog. Right now ..it's empty. It's waiting for it's treats. I think I'll do that.

Journey from the Top Floor

2008-06-03T07:38:00.000-07:00

I bought a bunch of acrylic paint and some acrylic medium, with all intentions of learning to paint with acrylics again. I thought I'd use it during the painting/sketches, because they dry fast and clean up with water, and that would make it so easy to paint the small paintings as I was working up the larger Chelsea paintings (which would be in oil on canvas). Well, I worked three days with acrylic. They dry too fast, even with the medium. And I think because I bought the less-expensive paints, they just didn't work at all. I spent more time arguing with them than actually completing any work. So finally, I put them aside and dragged out the oils. At first, they were so foreign to me. It's been so long since I've painted. But it didn't take too long, they became that comfortable pillow again. I knew them. They smelled familiar, they felt familiar and I fell in love with them again. I was surprised that some of them hadn't even dried up. It's been over a year since I painted with oils. It took no time, though. And they were back in my hand, flowing like colorful butter and going where I wanted them to--doing what I wanted them to do.

I did my first practice painting of the Chelsea from the new photographs. This is the 10th floor center hall. It's always dark in the middle and light on each side. I suppose because above the center is the skylight. But this was taken at night, when the contrast of light is the most evident. In numerology, I find it interesting that 10 reduces to 1. The first time I was in the Chelsea I only went to the 1st floor, to room 100. All reducing to 1. And the first time I went to the 10th floor was in the 10th month, October. All of those reduce to 1, the Magician. The last time I was there I stayed on the 3rd floor (The Empress). The Empress always tell me to incorporate passion in what I do. Without the Empress, there is no extreme feeling. How can one love without passion? There are secrets, there, as well. I need 0, 1, 2, 3...I need the Fool, The Magician, The High Priestess and the Empress. The Emporer I have plenty of. I don't need any more rules. I need passion. I need hidden wisdom. I need to step off the precipice without fear. No Fear. Love. It's the only equation that makes sense.

Such a Nice Laundry

2008-05-28T09:50:00.000-07:00

There's the laundromat I was standing in the first time someone pointed out the Hotel Chelsea to me. I asked where it was and she said, right across the street. And there it was.
Later when reading one of the books written by Dee Dee Ramone, inside it I noticed he had several drawings, and one of those drawings was of Nice Laundry. When I was first there ages ago. And now, I'm standing in the window of my room in March of 2008, and I see it. There it is. Still there. Considering the gentrification of that city, it's amazing that anything that's as old as that would still be there.
So many things are gone. I have so many memories of this cafe down on St Mark's. I sat out there waiting for friends. And my last memory of being there was when I was in New York with my friend Pete DeFreitas, drummer for the group Echo and the Bunnymen. They were playing at the Ritz. That day I was waiting on him to meet me back there after their interview at MTv. I didn't want to hang around mtv waiting on them so had gone to Broadway Books to visit my friend Marlene. I was supposed to meet him there at 6. It was a cold damp October evening. I sat there and drank a cup of coffee, waiting for him. Across the street sat a kid that looked like Sid. I'd seen him the summer before when I was at St Marks with friends, after being in the Hotel Chelsea, in room 100...strange things happening all around. And there we were, standing in St Marks with the Ramones. They were filming a video.
When Johnny Ramone died a few years ago, there was a photo published in the Rolling Stone. And there we were, from that day, so long ago, standing there with the Ramones in St Marks Place. It was so weird to see it again. I honestly have no memory of anyone taking photos that day. And now it's on display at some gallery in London.

Another memory tied up with all of this strangeness is that the kid who looked like Sid was there that day as well. And a few years ago, in Dee Dee's book Poison Heart, I'll be damned if he didn't also print a photo of that kid, the kid who stood across the street that night in October when I was sitting at the cafe--the kid who came up and talked to me and freaked me out. The kid who even Dee Dee thought looked like Sid. And it all kept crossing over and over, back and forth, like some colorful fabric. And like an impressionist painting, when standing up close, I just couldn't make sense of it all. But now that time has given me the advantage of perspective, I can see it all over again. And like some of those paintings, it still makes no sense.

Days passed

2008-05-27T10:49:00.000-07:00

Days have passed. I haven't written. But I've been thinking. There's no way to describe the images and memories that show up in my mind. I've been looking at old photos: mom and dad, Nana and Aunt Mae, Uncle Joe and my grandfather, Pop--the one who no one seemed to love. I did though, I loved him. I still love him. I didn't know all the things he did. I know now. I knew later. But it didn't matter. I didn't know that man before, the one who might have been patterned after Pap Finn. No wonder my sweet daddy wouldn't go in when my parents came to pick me up.

Side halls. Shadows. Memories. Bjork singing "Venus as a Boy." And I gaze at the photos. Doors that are closed and set back from the main hall. Yet I seek them out. Who lives in there? Is there any one in there? Or are they empty? Do they have whispers and misty memories, too? I can't go in all the doors. I was only allowed in a few. But I still look. I still wonder. I'm not afraid to venture down there. I wasn't afraid then, and I'm not afraid now. But somehow, it all makes me sad.

There was this chair..

2008-05-01T15:40:00.000-07:00

sitting there in the hallway. Actually, there is a side hall, as there is on many of the floors. I was taking photos of the window at the end of the hall and I happened to look down this little side hall, and there sat this chair. I'm not sure what all it will mean to me just yet. I'm thinking that in time it will develop into some symbol for me, of something. I'm just not sure yet.

It's like so many things in my life, they make more sense after time goes by. I think it's lonely, as I feel lonely. I feel lonely in the things I know, the things I believe and the things I love. There's just no one else who sees them or feels them--not like I do. Not at this time in my life. Usually I don't think much about it, but today, it made me very sad. I think I even felt a bit sorry for myself earlier this afternoon. So yeah, I bet that's why I love this chair. It's there, like me, just sitting there in a place that I love. No other furniture, not real room, no matching furniture, nothing. Just sitting there by that cold window. I wonder what it will mean a year from now?

One Afternoon...

2008-04-28T17:03:00.000-07:00

I took this with my phone late one afternoon at the Chelsea. This is one of those parts of the hotel that just mesmerizes me. *Well, the whole place does* There are these places at the end of the hall where there will be two or three concrete steps that lead up to a window. Usually outside the window is a wrought iron fire escape. When there's rain coming down, especially a cold rain, it drips off the chipped paint on the railings and looks like something melting, or as if there are tears coming from somewhere far away. The strange thing, too, is the blue light that shines in from the cloudy outdoors. One October I was staying there and one of the windows was raised just a little. It was raining that night, too. The hallway was so warm, but coming in through that window was the icy air of an Autumn night in NYC.

I can't wait to go back.

2008-04-17T20:08:00.001-07:00

I won a Tennessee State Art Grant to go photograph one of my favorite places, the Hotel Chelsea. I went there in March, armed with my camera and tripod and extra memory sticks and batteries and hope and dreams and wonder. The hotel was taken over by new management. Stanley Bard, a man who watched so many artists and musicians and life and death pass through that lobby would not be there. I was a bit tentative about the hotel losing..something. so when I got there I was amazed at how it felt like it always did. They were friendly and accommodating and showed me several rooms, letting me choose the one I wanted. I chose 317. It's a red room right by the Chelsea sign, with a bay window and those huge windows opened and I could hang out over 23rd Street and almost touch the big "A". It amazed me that this room had a flat screened HD television. Was this the Chelsea? Yes it was. And it was the same, yet parts were better. I felt as though the hotel embraced me. But then, I've felt embraced by the place even long before I knew where it was. It originally was an old house in a dream I had ages ago when I was a young teen. All I knew was I had to get upstairs. Again, I thought this was a house with many rooms.

I was thinking about posting a picture every day that I come in here and talk about it, hoping to open up some creative channels and get me really thinking of this project, but so far, all I do is stare at the pictures. I have so many favorites there's no way to pick one just yet. I took almost 1,000 photographs, knowing that I might not get back there for a very long time. It's so expensive...not unless Tn Arts Counsel would let me apply again for the same grant. I don't think that's allowed. Oh well...

So for now I just gaze at these. And none of them have been photoshop'ed or enhanced in any way yet. That picture there, that's what it looks like. I don't know where all the colors are coming from.

After I get used to writing again, and really speaking what I see and hear in my head, then I'll say more than I am at the moment. I still feel like all my words are stuck.