Thursday, August 18, 2005

Talking To Myself In The City That Never Sweeps

Ok. The city does sweep, but it just seems to sweep stuff from over here to over there.

Here I am in New York City. Nobody really knows why I left behind a fully furnished house with a double garage and Land Rover in the driveway. I'm not certain myself but somehow all that space and stuff seemed indulgent and already won. In the years from bankruptcy to middle-classiness, I built up a good and workable art-career in Salt Lake City, Utah culminating in the classic earmark of fame: being recognized in the grocery store by a blushing fan (which made me blush too, but, so?). The county had purchased a piece for their collection, my local gallery had a waiting list for my work, and I was guaranteed at least one solo exhibit annually if I wanted it. Sales were steady.

So, I talked it over with Dan, packed a big box of our favorite pillows and books, disenrolled the kids from what was turning out to be an increasingly conservative private school that would re-comb Boone's rocker-do, found a sublet on Craigslist, got tickets and got out.

I think it was mediocrity and the Easy Life I was uneasy with. With harmless people who say, "Thanks a million!" and ample thoroughfares for the auto, I knew the ease and convenience of Salt Lake City would tenderize me slowly if I stayed. I needed raw living to reach the nerve where my best painting resides. I needed a place that was sincerely tough and brutally sincere.

So Brooklyn it was.


Blogger Asli said...

You put it very nicely... I can relate to the uneasiness of an easy life - but I also wonder, does the search ever end? But, Brooklyn's the place to be, at least for the time being..
I recently found your blog, and really like your writing, and what I'm assuming is your art. Would love to see in person one day. Photos never seem to do justice to the real thing..

10:48 AM  

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