Saturday, August 11, 2012

Saturday Evening, The Rain Begins To Fall

Woke happy about and with a hangover from last night. Do we live in the coolest place in Santa Fe? I can't help but wonder what everyone else does here in this city. In the meantime the friends show up, everyone with barely enough booze to satisfy themselves, and then the scouring of my cabinets begins. Its all cool, really, I've always been that way, drink and party today, worry about tomorrow tomorrow.
Obviously there are plenty of personalities, sometimes we are not always on the same wavelength, but come time to gather and celebrate the day, believe me, it is effortless, minus the mess left behind afterwards of course. I won't bother with those pictures, just more of the flowers that writhe in summer's end.
There was some conflict here with the previous tenants of #3, they stayed for two months. This is my tenth residency experience, I kind of have an idea of what communal living consists of, causing agita from the get go is not the best way to fit into a tight group of hard working artists. This situation is not meant for everyone, anyway the peace has been restored.
Everyone is in everyone's business, they call me Gladys Kravits sometimes, being here full-time I see much of what is going on, I am not the only one who has all of the dish on this place, but by week's end everything is sorted out for the most part and then some kind of party takes place. Soon enough we are nigh and espousing on the crazy beauty of this compound, how lucky we are, the transformation that has taken place in each one who stays here, seems almost like some kind of prerequisite for being a resident.
Bethany had to work at the job today, Billy opened the gallery trying to sell one more of his lush landscapes, Adam wrote then took his boy to get dorm supplies. Keri our summer intern is here, packing up, she's got a job, was staying on past her obligations to help with the restoration of that crazy picket fence on the stone wall. There was that moment when I saw Brenda, You Lost That Loving Feeling was playing on my computer, she seemed lost in a moment of reflection, solitude and contentment. I painted for a while, shot the flowers, noticed that it was trashy tourist day outside my window, screamed at that trolley driving lady when she megaphones that Russian art sells here better than southwestern art.
Learned through facebook that the September exhibit at the gallery where I show in NYC has been booked. Okay I had been sort of promised that slot, yeah and my friends back there keep asking, I mean it is totally cool, but really just let me know what the hell is going on, right, don't you think? So yes looking at my available work I may not have a great second solo in the city ready, sure, but I can take it, just be honest and upright. Having been a gallery director for a few years I always tried to be truthful with the hard working industrious people that we represented. It can be a very emotional relationship, that between artists and galleries, but it is still that, a relationship.
Realized, slowly, that I have a bad cavity, aching tooth, part of an old filling had fallen out and decay set in till one day I feel the slice of pain when I eat drink breath. I finally call the dental clinic here, its cool that one even exists. The person who answers the phone asks for my personal info, you're not in our records, she says. Are you in pain? Well, what is pain? Maybe we can set up an emergency appointment for you if you are indeed in pain. If not call next week to schedule an appointment for November. I'll call back and come November if said tooth hasn't fallen out of my head, I'll see a dentist.
I had this epic dream the other night, by epic I mean it last for hours, I've been charting my dreams since I was a kid, this one was epic. It took place in Brooklyn, was there with my good friend Steed, my amazing friend Jason, me and a drag queen. We were trying to get to Karen's party, another excellent friend from NY who never calls, well she follows me on facebook. But this dream just kep going and going, wandering from bodega to street corner, all assorted and assembled city street folk, from freak to hipster, I knew how to get to the party but no one would listen, so we wandered endlessly. I dream of the city almost every night, hell yeah I miss it.
An acquaintance passed through last night, one of the first gay guys that I met here, he seemed friendlier, more honest, and inquisitive then ever. I gave him and his cute man friend the quick tour, minus the embellishments that can add half an hour to my grand tour. He asked, so how's your love life, are you getting along here? I like this guy, we've only met at social functions, the dreadfully named Friends of Dorothy monthly mixers, which are cool because we take over some local watering hole, or I see him during the Gay Pride weekend. I had to think about how to say that no I am not getting laid, um, just coming off of two long term relationships, taking a break. Is that true? Yeah, I guess. Do you like it here in Santa Fe? I responded that I love it here, meaning this fantastic hacienda that we all call home. Social politics.
  Enrique and Angie are leaving here, moving to Brooklyn, a couple of months from now. He lived there when younger, she never has. They are on the younger side of our group of compatriots, thirty-somethings or something like that, I never remember that kind of stuff, unless it is someone's 40th birthday, Bethany, and the night ends with crawling up Canyon Road. The kids planning their move makes me kind of melancholic, I mean the excitement, the wonder, the effort involved. Hell when I moved here to Santa Fe, under two years ago, it was exciting but I was coming as a jaded New Yorker, a virtual snob, expecting this little pond to be easy to navigate, only to find that I was sick of swimming with sharks.
Of course I paid my dues in the city, it just seems like all of that shit gets cut off once you leave. I never thought that I would leave New York or fall out of love with that churning metropolis, but I did, one day. I was on the subway, just starting to read Gravity's Rainbow, hell I finished Tolstoy on the express. The book is all about these hidden unseen machinations of a paranoid society at the end of an inextricable war, one that would influence every moment of life from this moment on. I looked up from the pages, the book that that sweet woman gave me, the one who bought my painting in Switzerland, and saw an ugly place, one inspired by greed deceit and lust. Damn that book and by the way I think that it is turning me into an atheist.
 In the meantime, the evening's rain have brought in a mighty nice cool relief. People wander up and down Canyon. I sip with proficiency, living in and loving this moment, this twilight, this time when I live here now and forever.








Thursday, August 9, 2012

Intermezzo II -- ZAGUANISTAS at El Zaguan

Such a fantastic summer it's been here in New Mexico, Santa Fe, Canyon Road historic El Zaguan compound.  I spotted a bowl of plums in the office kitchen tonight fresh from our orchard.  The apple trees fat with fruit and pear trees pearing a partridge. . . --sweet grape arbor, garden pumpkins sprawling in the dirt where tomatos ripen and the sunflower tree bees buzz next to the backyard basil.  It is beginning to flower but still I pick it for the caprese salad I have for dinner. 

August 10th closing Friday for Billy McLane's landscapes on canvas and next Friday August 17th we open with Intermezzo II --ZAGUANISTAS at El Zaguan.  A variety of work.  New Mexico landscapes on canvas, works on paper, photography and mixed media.  The writers combine wood and words and soon a reading here of flash fiction and poetry (stay tuned).  We are a creative artful bunch who gets on well and share a love of this place we call home.  We hope you can make it. 

Intermezzo II --ZAGUANISTAS at El Zaguan
545 Canyon Road
Opening:  Friday August 17, 2012 @ 5pm
Saturday 11 - 4pm
through August 28th


Beyond Repair

Brenda Roper, Adam Eisman, Bethany Orbison, Billy McLane and Max Carlos Martinez
El Zaguan Artists in Residence
and welcoming Jeff Norris. . .