Sunday was quite a day. It was nothing, then it was something. I had dinner at my mother's house last night. We ate inside for the first time in over a year. It seemed terribly weird. Everything appeared cramped, small and closed in after sitting out with the great expanse of sky before us for so long. But the dinner was good. My cousin was there and the three of us ate asparagus and baked potato and bbq boneless ribs that were delicious. My mother and I drank a bottle of wine. Desert was a freshly baked loaf of cinnamon bread, half of which came home with me for my morning coffee. A good time was had by all.
Sunday dinners with mom will once again become the norm.
Today, I learned on a group chat that the kids at the factory could all get vaccinated now. And they all did--excitedly. Everyone is happy that soon we will all be able to get together for monthly b-day drinks again. The world is beginning to open up.
When I got home from mother's, I had word that two of my photos were sold at auction. I didn't get the million dollars I had hoped for, but $24,400 for two prints was fine. Unframed. Amazing.
O.K. I didn't get that much. But they sold for as much as a Louis Vuitton bag, so I am satisfied. More prints will be up for auction soon.
And. . . I've been working on the book recently. "Lonesomeville" will be a semi-reality soon. It should be around one hundred images or so. If the quality is o.k., I'll let you purchase a copy--if you want--at cost. Just for the readers of the blog. I am making the book to send around to publishers to see if anyone is interested. If not. . . well, I have some other ideas. It is totally the wrong time to do this which makes it so perfect. Don't do a thing when it is popular and easy. Then it is only polemic. Be like Dylan going electric when everyone wanted him to be acoustic/folk. He took a chance. They booed him, but he left Hootenanny and took off.
I could, however, go right into the shitter. But whatever. We'll see.
As I say, though, the world is opening up, and next week we return to Daylight Savings Time. Evenings will be brighter, longer, and we will all be out at the cafes again, in our own way, eating and drinking and seeing friends. By then, I hope to be an artist of repute. I'll need a body guard to keep the women off me.
* * *
That was last night. And this morning, I woke to an email from an old friend who says she misses me in very poetic ways. I haven't seen her in years, so I am hesitant. I mean, the years have not been kind. I have not seen her since long before the crash, long before I was Tarzan in Decline. Oh, stop it. It's my blog. Let me mythologize myself a bit. Just because you never saw me swim up a waterfall doesn't mean I didn't do it.
And actually, I have had a request for more of my adventure travel tales with Brando. To what might that be attributed? Again. . . I think it is an indication of what people want to have come. Those who have obeyed Covid protocols are anxious to join those who have paid no attention to them at all--The Selfish Spreaders of Illness and Disease. It's a personal choice, right (Q)? Most of my friends have been the rule keepers, and now they are like long-coiled springs waiting to explode. As more vaccines get into more arms. . . well, soon EVERYONE will be having Sunday dinners with mom.
Don't tell me I don't know how to party.
Just now an owl or two near my house have set up their own loud party. It must be mating season.
I just Googled it. Barn owls are monogamous and in my own home state they lay their eggs in February, so they must be raising their young now. I will need to head off to the gardens to see their furry white young. The whole neighborhood will be talking.
So yes, by God, the Liberation is almost here. I'll call some friends this week and meet them out for drinks. We must enjoy this semi-tropical weather, perfect temperatures and blue skies, and soon, the daylight that extends into the evening. I think I'll get a fish sandwich from the local fresh fish place, perhaps, and clink glasses with some groovy beers. I'm done with letting the heathens have all the fun.
Congratulations on getting some of your art bought. Well. Look at you.
ReplyDeleteI never say, I told you so, but I told you so. Good on you. Your news made my day.
I am looking forward to the book as well. I just signed an extension on a current contract so I might be able to afford it.
I start a second contract today, first meeting in a few minutes, then next week I start a third.
We should have done this years ago compadre – making scratch doing what we want to do rather than what we are compelled to do.
Hi ho. Hi ho – I am a ho so off to work I go.
Catch you on the flip side
Yea. You are MAKING money doing what you love to do. I'm about $100,000 upside down in my project. Literally. Six years of studio rent and electric, giant printers, super expensive inks and papers, camera and lenses galore. . . . At the current pace, I'll break even when I am 1,000 years old. You, however, are one rich hillbilly. Ha! Congratulations.
Delete
ReplyDeleteWow. Things seem to be looking up for you Tarzan the Art Man.
A book! You should call it a maquette btw. Fancier. I'll take one as well.
One person bought both prints. Btw. I egged him on a bit - though he didn't know that was happening - old auction tricks. I learned from one of the best.
Oh, he wanted them - but wanted them cheaper than what he eventually paid for them- (thanks, in part to Lisa in her bright blue vintage ankle boots, ripped jeans and charming personality and smile (if not a little saggy)and the expert work of a somewhat cranky auctioneer.
One must do what one must do to make the right sales you know.
They are going to Providence, Rhode Island.
I wish someone would write me and tell me they missed me, poetically. Ha. It would be lovely to find such a thing some morning. Alas, it would also have to come from the grave.
For I like the owls, have been a monogamous creature - - for the last 30 years. Divided by 2 of course. 15 years and 15 years or so. Holy shit right? I've got no back ups.
It's still v. v. cold here though I did hear the red-winged blackbirds while walking the dogs after work. A sure sign Spring is coming.
I watched two documentaries last night. One, older "Trespassing Bergman," I really liked it. And I don't know anything about Bergman but I knew about almost all the directors. Lars von Trier was quite something & funny banging on about Bergman's cock.
I picked it because I saw Woody Allen was in it. I had been watching Allen & Marilyn Monroe movies on alternating nights the past couple of weeks.
"The Misfits" was the last Marilyn movie. Vickie Christina Barcelona the last Woody movie.
Did you see "Rifkin's Festival?" I have not.
Anyway - Wes Anderson is in it too - the Bergman movie. He's a strange dude. Directors are interesting.
The second movie was called "Made you Look." About the art forgery at Knoedler & Co.
It was funny that it popped up on Netflix last night. Ed and I were talking yesterday about an Art Forger we both know - well I met him through Ed. He was the most talented guy - but never wanted to sell his work for less than like one billion dollars. Nevermind he lived in a shack (right on the ocean) with only dirt floors and no electricity half the time.
He painted several paintings that were sold at auction as original Childe Hassam's - have I told this story before?
It's a nutty place to reside - that world. But oh how alive it is. Always fecund with characters, tales & even schemes.
c.c - congrats on your getting paid to do art. :).
I have purchased a face mask that says it will firm my skin and make me look 15 years younger by tomorrow.
Well, it doesn't really make that claim but I am ever hopeful. Tomorrow is Tuesday. And we have a day full of patients. I need to prepare my outfit and get to bed at a reasonable time.
You know what I miss? Speciality stores. I had to purchase some new hosiery and there used to be a small store on Main St. Hyannis that did just that - stockings and accoutrements around the wearing of such. It is long gone.
People should specialize again. Like in Paris you have all your little expert stores. We just throw everything under one hideous roof - watermelons over here and stockings right next store. It's so - American.
Well. That's the Monday report from the raw and cold Peninsula shaped like an Arm dangling into the Atlantic.
x
This is the third time I am writing this comment. The last two just disappeared. I have guessed that I was being too cynical or caustic. I was thanking you for selling my prints and lamenting the fact that the buyer had to be coaxed into doing it. C'est la vie. I never thought the prints would sell, anyway, so we are ahead of the game. The game. It is not winning or losing, they say, but being in the game. Make sure you take your cut of the money. At this rate, we'll be rich. Ha!
DeleteM.M killed two things in making "The Misfits": a) her marriage and b) Clark Gable. Hell of a gal, eh?