Friday, September 28, 2012

Substance is nothing. Appearance is everything

I was complaining into the phone with MaryBeth, my fine east coast writer friend and then I said the above. Unfortunately its true. Intense week...month ...year. Coop and Stephanie came to visit and arrived 3 days early which meant I had one quarter inch of my home cleaned and neat. I forgot they had dogs. Dogs aren't good for negatives and transparency that live on the floor so they moved to the Loew's Ventana resort, two minutes from my place. We ate and looked at the Danny Lyon exhibit and took fotos in my new t-shirts. Coop gracely brought me his new book published by Baby Tattoo, "Idle Hands: The Art of Coop. Everyone should own a copy.
They drove from LA to Chicago to visit Stephanie's folks then straight to Tulsa to visit his then over to Cdillac Ranch outside Armarillo to do early morning drizzle nude photos then to me.

Here is a photo Coop took of me trying to suck on Stephanie's ample left boob. She's wearing one of my new t-shirts (Big Time Threads) as shorts. My backyard. My bad luck.

They were anxious to get back to LA but we stopped at Terry Etherton's gallery for the exhibit of Danny lyon's Chicago OUtlaw Biker club photos that became "The Bikeriders" (1967). Lyon's the best. I own "Coversations with the Dead", his alarming photos inside the Texas Prison system. In it he claims he hasn't gotten close enough to his subject till he is tossed out. I know the feeling (rationale). I also own "the Destruction of Lower Manhattan" (1969), photos of the demolishing of the old building to build the World Trade Center.
Danny Lyon is my idol. My day in the late afternoon in the late Sevenites my phone rang and the voice said "hello, this is Danny Lyon". Automatically I shouted into the receiver "Fck you! Why would my hero be calling me?"He laughed and said he needed to know about my publisher, Addison House.
Besides the Tucson exhibit he will be talking and showing one of his films Oct. 5th at 6 p,m at the Center of Creative Photography.

Along with the price list the Etherton gallery had included a May 8, 1963 letter to Danny from Hugh Edwards at the Art Institute of Chicago. He praises the work Danny has done on the bikers and wishes he could help get it published with txt by someone like "Burroughs, James Jones, or John Dos Passos. "
"This time you have gone farther on and present the exciting subject without getting between it and camera. Thank you and God for not too often served social messages in these pictures. In them you evoke and provoke emotions and are modest about your own self-expression....I like photography best when it is a medium of presentation and does not impose interpretation". Brilliant remark and something for me and all other photographers to think upon.
One of my oldest friends, Bob Richardson is finally showing his fine paintings (portraits) at the Downtown Subscription 376 Garcia st. Santa Fe, N.M. 87501. Oct. 2 to Oct. 31st. Bob has unsuccessfully avoided the label `artist' but the portraits (of moi and other old friends) makes the description stick.

This is one of his fantasy portraits. The only accurate aspect of the painting is the stairs and (maybe) me that morning. Bob and I had a son together, Willie Bo Richardson who has grown up to be a fine artist, teaching at two institutions in Santa Fe and exhibiting often in Manhattan. This time in a group show at the Phillips de Pury entitled "Watercolors" 
I'll have a number of new paintings in the exhibition WATERCOLORS

viewing 1 – 19 October
hours Monday – Saturday 10am – 6pm Sunday 12 – 6pm
Phillips de Pury & Company 450 West 15 Street New York 10011
Enquiries 212 940 1200 PHILLIPSDEPURY.COM

You can planely sea Bob and my influence on Willie Bo's work.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

One tequila, two tequila, 3 tequila, floor

The irony is that the day before I had been downloading photos off the internet of drunk women, thinking it would make a good fashion layout. the magic marker cock and balls with a new Forever 21 ensemble.

Then Katy comes over for pasta and neglects to mention she hasn't eaten all day.
One tequila leads to another and she's drunk but between my pasta rearranged and reappearing on the floor and, later, in my bed (she kept mentioning how comfortable it was), I never had a chance to grab the magic marker, etc etc.
Before Katy arrived I sent off the (brilliant) fashion idea to my daughter, Leah, and called Willa and told her. She said  "yeah, heroin chic is in. Yeah cock and balls". WHAT! How did she know about the cock and balls and I didn't. Someone told me about a male friend that passed out and his friends drew cock and balls with permanent ink on his face and he had to meet his parents for breakfast the next day. Yeah!

I must clarify now the sleeping arrangements since, early on, Katy made it clear (blurry) she couldn't drive home. She insisted on passing out on the floor.

Somewhere in the nite between the pool and the bathroom she richochetted off my tiled kitchen floor then slammed her forehead into the ground. It took hours before she would allow ice on her shiner.

tres chic

it is impossible to take an awful picture of Katy

discussion tools (Ori Small's bk, Dave Naz book, etc) b4 there became no room for discussion

the aftermath (which has followed me since '97 in SF)

huevos b4 urgent care

the evening made the wall of fame and 4 this I am grateful

note Melanie King framed and on the floor in the kitchen, Felice playing horsie on the foreground
and Ghost Dog on the screen.

tonight I decided to give `thanks' so I went over to the DeGrazia church and lite a candle and sat alone and watched it and the sunlite burn down.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

The Big Country

I watched with Gail last night "The Big Country" about two fueding ranchers and it reminded me of the paower of miscommunication. I have lost more friendships from what I have said then most people make.
I had this friendship with a couple and we saw each other all the time. They were about to move to Santa Fe and the female friend came over to help transplant cactus. That was the last I ever heard from them.
Recently i was eating lunch with a new constant friend at Pho off Stone and I said something or somethings unconnected to anyone in particular (certainly not his wife) and he said "Well this is the last lunch we will ever have together".  And that was the last I heard from either one of them.
Before I moved from LA to Tucson I befriended Jackie Alpers. She came to LA to show her fine portfolio of photos. She came with his husband to the infamous "naked" dinner me and Maya held in Tucson before I moved. She shot me shooting my models often (her shot of me is my facebk photo) yet when I moved to Tucson and knew only Gibb (I don't hear from him anyomore either now that I think about it) , Peter Crown, and Steve Orlen, I expected and hoped to spend time with Jackie. I never heard from her and when I called finally she said she was busy shooting food.
It must be my breath or maybe my lack of editing what I say.
photo by Jackie Alpers

Kianna Davis helped me get my Prism LA gallery showing together when I was fighting a deep deppression. She also helped me on my "Way Out West". I had a suspicion she would be very fine to photograph. It took some presuasion but I finally shot her and she put one up on facebook with a censor bar. Her friends commented on how brave she was?????

I had a short but pleasant affair while I was living in SF with a beautiful Black lesbian who came with me Tucson. One morning I woke up and saw her naked in the Arizona room taking a photo. My initial intention was to add to that series with a shot of Kianna feeding the birds naked in the backyard but I only got as far as the wood pile before seeing a possible photo.

at home on the range (Sahuaro west)

But my all time Tucson favorite model is Destany. Without trying she eats my camera ALIVE

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

I have images but nothing to say

except patsy's under trsnaparent blouses could be the next fashion `no' like black bras under transparent yellow blouses (I love).

when I lived in LA...when I got depressed OR wasn't feeling depressed I'd stop in at the stripper boutiques along Hollywood Blvd. east of the Grumman Theater. Actually the first time I found this mecca of outrageous fashion was when I went to LA to photograph Tall Goddess, long before she moved to America. I rented a room at Motel 6 and shot and wandered over to Hollywood Blvd. The best.

That's me between Tall Goddess's Big Thighs.

I took Katy to breafast at the swap meet along Dexel at Mission. She was wearing a short summer dress and with the wind blowing every which way I almost thought I saw Paris. My job became holding Katy's dress down while we browsed.

Gail had to fly east on short notice and offered me her home.

Here Katy is reading one of my friend, Steve Orlen's, poetry bks (I did the cover photo of Sarah)

think I'll go to the White Elephant in Green Valley in my new red Toyota.

I invited Katy Awful but she had to get her beauty sleep