Good Guys, Bad Guys

The UN General Assembly is in session in New York and has in attendance international leaders from Barack Obama to Muammar al-Qaddafi. There were cheers for the United States, its new leader and its re-connection with the United Nations family. The Libyan leader was less well received after his 90 minute speech created havoc with the meeting schedule. A saint and a madman? The controversial president of Iran, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, is also in attendance. He continues to agitate the West and Israel with his anti-Jewish sentiments. An insistence on developing nuclear weapons gives him the attention he wants. The super powers - the US, Russia and China - who have the real capacity to annihilate the world are beginning serious talks about reducing their nuclear arsenals. Since the start of the nuclear age there has been an effort - beginning with scientists involved in its birth - to stop the development of nuclear arms. We are the only nation to have used nuclear weapons. Sixty four years ago. And since then the rest of the world fears our capability to destroy in such a massive, inhumane way. Why is it so reprehensible that other, more vulnerable nations, want to have equal power to defend themselves? How can we insist that countries like Iran cease their program when we already have the ability to destroy the rest of the world? I think many, many Americans, including President Obama, genuinely want to see an end to nuclear armament. But we have to be willing to take real steps in that direction and need to stop blaming other leaders for wanting to defend their citizens from the potential wrath of America. The bottom line is that there is no cause that can justify the rationale we used in 1945 to murder about a quarter of a million civilians. Weapons of mass destruction, axis of evil, terrorists . Looking at ourselves, are we not in fact seeing the face of the enemy?

Scenes from My Life in the Art World - Living in New York

It was exciting at first. New York City. I worked at the Whitney Museum when arrived I in 1980 and sold catalogs during the Edward Hopper exhibition. He was a favorite of mine so I spent many lunch breaks on the gallery floors. After the show closed I found a position in the accounting office. Boring. But it led to an interesting few years working as the bookkeeper for a major contemporary art gallery on 57th Street.

The Art World in the 80's was a wild place. Julian Schnabel, David Salle, Keith Haring, Jean Michel Basquiat were becoming celebrities, Mary Boone and Larry Gagosian were starting to build their empires. Soho was buzzing and many uptown galleries were opening new spaces to accommodate the gigantic work their artists were making. The Odeon was a hot spot, cocaine was passed around like dinner mints, and everyone was reaching for the limelight.

A young artist could walk into a gallery with slides of her work and someone might take a look. But without existing fame it was hard to be taken too seriously. Most people were ambitious and only interested in making important professional connections. With some exceptions. If you were young, female and attractive there were many opportunities to have sex with powerful men - and I had my share of them. One experience happened when I first started my gallery job and the principle of the business invited me to his upper east side apartment to see his collection of Pop and Contemporary painting. How exciting! When I arrived he offered me a glass of wine and began to show me around. Quickly we ended up in the bedroom where he began to undress and asked me to help him select clothes to wear to a business dinner he was going to later in the evening. Embarrassed and confused, I played along like it was perfectly normal to be standing there with my new boss in his boxer shorts. He dressed and asked me if I would like to stay at his apartment until he returned from dinner. No, I don't think so. Fortunate decision. The following week his German live-in girlfriend resurfaced. They married a year or so later which did not have much effect on his ongoing flirtations.

I stayed in New York for five years. The glamor of the gallery scene slowly wore off and its nastiness wore me down. I found myself looking for the passion I once felt in the presence of great art. Trips to Italy in 1983 & 1984 helped me see that the passion was still burning within me. Standing before masterpieces in Rome, Florence, Siena and Venice my heart opened and I knew it was time to escape the Big Apple. A year later my brother and I drove a U-Haul truck to Boston where I started a more balance life.

I love New York now and go often for museum & gallery shows, for the theater and wonderful food, a walk in Central Park. My husband & I stay for a night or two and enjoy the energy. Then we come back to Boston filled with the inspiration these short visits provide.

Eight Years

I went to the Weston town green this morning to help place three thousand plus flags on the lawn to commemorate the September 11 attacks. At 8:46 the church bells rang and the high school students, police and firemen, the moms and dads, little kids and assorted other folks slowly but efficiently placed flags in the pre-drilled holes in the grass. It was gray, sprinkling rain, not the blue-skied day of September 11, 2001. I was in the Post Office that morning when the 2nd plane hit the World Trade Center. Everyone was frozen listening to the radio. Driving on Rt 2 afterward, the traffic moved unimaginably slow - a shared trauma. It was quiet today too, solemn. A wound still deeply felt.

Back to School

A chilly Sunday morning with crystal blue sky and perfect warm light. Fall is here and school starts for me this week - its always hard to see summer end.

Barack has made a commitment to education and
sees clearly how quality learning can change lives - especially for children who are socially disadvantaged. He plans to speak to kids throughout our country, via webcast, as they begin a new school year to encourage hard work and persistence. Staying in school will make a difference in what happens afterward and supporting each other in the process will benefit all. A great idea - the president offering a positive message about education directly to the ones who will benefit most. But apparently some parents are opposed to this fearing that Obama is trying to indoctrinate their kids with socialist propaganda. When I hear things like this I am completely taken aback. How can something so inherently constructive be twisted into something so perversely destructive? Fear? I have a feeling that the focus on socialism and liberalism is a smoke screen for the real issue of racism. It is truly sad that even the most benign efforts can be transformed into a cancer by an angry, threatened few.

Scenes from My life in the Art World - The Museum Show

As anyone who is engaged in the Visual Arts knows, it isn't easy. Working in the studio is usually satisfying and enriching and, at times, even powerful. Dealing with the art world at large is another story. Two years ago I began a 5" x 10' drawing - the largest of my gunpowder and graphite series to date - of four Muslim men bowing in prayer. At about the same time I was invited to exhibit in a group show at a museum south of Boston. The exhibition paired contemporary drawings with prints from the museum's collection. I was excited that the new drawing would be included. The exposure would be terrific and who knows where it would lead, what doors would open afterward. I could never have imagined what actually transpired.

The first disappointment was that the museum failed to mention, in any of its publicity for the exhibition , that there were drawings included - never mind listing names of the several artists involved. I sent out my own invitations and at least some of my acquaintances attended the opening. The curator left the museum at the start of the exhibit so there was no follow up with her. In November, just after Thanksgiving I had a call from the registrar telling me that an unsupervised child ran into the unguarded gallery and dragged his hand across the entire bottom surface of my unframed piece. It was not too visible she said. I drove there to see for myself and found that the marks were not very noticeable and that I could probably touch up the drawing back in the studio. A relief. Then, just after Christmas (It was a long show), I had another call from the registrar. The roof leaked above the drawing and for three days a channel of water flowed over one section of the piece. This time it was noticeable and quite damaged. Off it went to a paper restorer and, after a year in storage, attempts to unbuckle the paper, remove the red stains, and repair the graphite surface, the drawing was no better. The insurance company paid me in full for the drawing after I signed ownership over to them. It seems that they try to resell the damaged piece or donate it to a conservation school for student practice.

Yesterday - September 4th - about two years to the start of this saga - a trucker came to pick up the half of the two panel drawing that I had in my studio. I was actually relieved that this experience was going to be behind me and that I had let go of the lingering idea of remaking the piece. The delivery truck arrived at 10am, backed into my driveway and a fellow in quite a hurry packed up the drawing, scribbled a receipt in duplicate for me to sign, and drove off. I went back to my office to finish the work I was doing only to find that the phone and internet were dead. Outside I saw the cable wires dangling on each side of the driveway , torn apart by the over sized truck. By 8pm last night the neighborhood was back on line, I had calmed down and I think at last this story is over. Stay tuned - this has inspired me to write more about my ever eventful life at mid-career in the Art World.