art – Page 28 – Lorin Duckman Today

Landino Fights Cancer For All of Us

“But sometimes there’s a man, sometimes, there’s a man. Aw. I lost my train of thought here. But… aw, hell. I’ve done introduced him enough.” Stole this line from Lebowski, but John deserves it.

So, he’s putting together a group to do art during his healing. He has esophageal cancer and needs to start treatment. He’s looking upwards, to the sky, for support. I’ll send him some landscapes and sky shots. I don’t do sunrises or sunsets. Too beginning and ending for me. The colors shine too brightly. Life’s a slog; mostly gray, not always black and white.

John finds music in everything. He sees art in everything. Melodies, not really recognizable ones, roll around in his head and then out his mouth. He’s more Beat, than neat. Not a hippie or hip, just different. I relate to different. Not many do. Now he has to turn his body over to the men with the white coats. Seems like he used to work with the guys in the white coats, only they treated heads not bodies. All those skills will be needed.

We will all root for him, those who know him and those whose lives would benefit if they did. We know he will go through the process with the same degree of joy that he used in life. He’ll be a good patient and we will be good friends.

My Kind of Color

A guy stopped me as I shot. “Not a good day for photos, eh?” “Au contraire, monsieur [he wasn’t from Montreal], gray is the favorite color for photographers. I get to control the light. Actually, the scene could use some fog.”

I stood and waited for the snow to come. Maybe later. No one walking. Here, I live in one of the coolest and most desirable places, one calling out for attention and its empty. People want the reds and blues and greens. Oh, come to the Lake for its beauty. Let’s go leaf peeping. Nothing wrong with this.

So, I tell the guy my views. As usual, he disagrees. Just like a Vermonter. Every sentence begins with I like it or I don’t like it or I agree or disagree. I want it to stay this way forever. I liked it better when there was a swamp here.”

VERMONT Shuts Down For Winter

Just let’s say people still visit the Lake Champlain boardwalk and need to go to the bathroom. But the facility is closed. In Burlington, manners predominate. I never call a “John” a ‘Facility.” Sharon’s Mother used to call it a “pissoire,” which could have been the only french word she spoke. Well, they will just have to use the facility at ECHO if they have to go.

Getting a creamy can also be problematical.

Vanishing Manhattan Gas Stations Hosts The Duckman’s From Vermont

When Sharon and I recently visited NYC, we went to Chelsea to see Burtynsky and Nevelson/. On the corner was this gas station that had been converted to an art piece before it will turn into condos. Called “Sheep Station,” by Francois-Xavier Lalanne, this outdoor installation brings art and sculpture to a wide range of people who would not otherwise come in contact with such creative works or see creativity in ordinary things. Many thanks to the Paul Kasmin Gallery and collector Michael Shvo, who is also a real estate developer, like who else could afford to do this, but, concededly, it’s promoted in good will.

Richard Serra was installing a new piece, but he wouldn’t let me take his picture, even after I told him that I was the only person in America who liked “Tilted Arc.”

We felt very comfortable with the sheep, moutons, as the artist calls them, since we come from Vermont.

Poor Is Poor

One gas station in Chelsea became a pasture for fake lambs as it awaits a high priced condominium complex near the art galleries. New York can be bought during the last days of the Bloomberg Era. Lambs will buy the units. sacrificing reason for a touch of make believe class.

But the billionaire Mayor hasn’t figure out how to make trickle down work, yet.

New York City has 8,000,000 stories. Not all of them speak to success and achievement.

Joshua Chasan, Wood Sculptor

Rabbi Joshua has a show in the back at the Maltex Building on Pine Street. Figures that a rabbi would select wood as a medium, since trees have special significance to jews. He chisels, making shapes for the light to shine through. The colors come from gentle strokes, highlights, midtones and some darks, changing the subject into extra-worldly matter. Any narrative becomes yours for the taking.

He wanted to call the piece, “Campy’s Glove.” How many remember Campy? The Hall of Fame would adore a spiritual wooden piece to go with the sculpture by Beielstein which sits outside the library. Perhaps, the adjustor, healer whose nameplate appears behind his head might like it, also.

A healer from the Wellness Collective on the third floor passed by. After I introduced Joshua as the artist/sculptor, she said, “I think about your work all the time. It makes me feel so good. I was wondering? Do you use a chisel?” What an honor for an artist to hear love while being asked for instruction.

Richard and Skip Feed the Ducks

Last time we saw Richard, he and the sailor shared the set. Richard, today, came to feed the Ducks and mourn his sister’s death. He casts potato chips on the water attracting Ducks while remembering his sister. I tried to explain that potato chips weren’t good for Ducks. “…, they come right up to me and eat them. They like them.”

Skip aged since out last shoot. “Hard out here. Slept here last night …. You age fast on the street.”

Lot of effort goes into shooting on the street. Sometimes, you gotta find them. Sometimes, you gotta have equipment. Never know, as a street shooter. Then I gotta get them to stand still, which really isn’t easy if they are stoned, drunk, on meds or angry. I could go on. The biggest stressor? Do they trust me? Damn. I love seeing them. Fear their deaths. Questioned about the people I know or knew, I show them a portfolio of recent photos. Most of my notebooks have two copies, because I haven’t been able to find the person pictured. Never give to people who promise to deliver. Another thing to carry.

So, Richard talked, after he heard from me, “… about being alive, being alive, being alive.” “You gotta do what you gotta do, … even if it means doing what you can do.”