Lily's photo shoot

don't touch my cheese burger

Where's my socks?

That's my shirt

swatting photo flies

Hey I'm Italiansowhoseideawasthisanyway,blogspot.com

There is a modeling agency in SF that has signed Lily on. While we were in NYC the agency had set up a photo shoot with a photographer they liked. This was all a test to see how Lily looked and how she was in front of a camera. Here are the images.

On the way to Truro

Lily and Andrea doing KOA style Pilates.

Lily and Andrea are taking showers. Alone in the breakfast nook I am having the same breakfast I always have. Yogurt with fruit, 2 pieces of toast and tea, A Beethoven piece for solo piano is playing and sun is shining on my toast. This feels like the opening of a good day.
Yesterday I got a call for Grad. Student who had read an article that I had published called the Up Side of Dyslexia. She is Dyslexic and wants to be an art critic. I am always pleased to know that someone is reading the stuff that I have written? We had a good conversation and I hope that I bolstered her confidence. I love modern art history and whenever I get the chance to have a conversation that can go somewhere I am a happy guy.

Being by the ocean yesterday brought me back to why we are taking this trip. Up to this point Andrea and I have had some great moments and amazing deep sessions of laughter. The fights have been part of this mix also. We are seeing our daughter in a way that gives us a better understanding of who and what she is and what she may become.  Yesterday was Columbus Day and Lily spent hour’s skyping her friends. Andrea and I sat out side listening to music, writing and drinking wine in the shade. The laughter was none stop from inside the RV. Lily was lonely and it was time to have her get together with her buddies from Adda Clevenger and Ocean Shore. What a good feeling to hear your kid explodes into laughter.

Being by the ocean yesterday seemed to start the conversation between Andrea and about what do we want to do from here on out; not with the trip but with the next part of our lives? After driving 4,000 miles cross the country and seeing the best of what America has to offer it is the ocean that says home to me.  Andrea and I start a conversation that will last the rest of this trip and beyond. The trip has broken the patterns that seemed to make changes very difficult. I know that after we return we will continue to make decisions that instigate change and enter us into the our next phase.

We know the Ocean will be near.

Lily will be spending less time with us and getting ready for her own life.

Andrea and I will continue our search for a home that suits our taste (neither of us like Victorians.)

I will be moving my art focus back to gallery and smaller scale work.

Andrea and I will continue to try and make stuff happen. 

Andrea and I are together because we see reality as flexible and dreams as practical.

Oct.11 and 12

The trip out to Provincetown was reminiscent of driving North in Minnesota. The proportion of land to water is reversed. Our camp site was in Truro about 6 miles from Provincetown. Nice campsite with neighbors that we connected with. This will be the first campsite people we have talked with in 5 weeks?

I think the RV thing is kinda like moving to suburbs. It is an activity for people who really don't like people.

We rode our bikes down to the beach and along some cool sandy trails. The beach was empty and calm. Lily entertained herself by the shore. She is at her best when she is by the ocean.  In the afternoon we unhooked the rv and drove into Provincetown. What an interesting place. The main street is so narrow we had to pull in our mirrors and hold our breath. The local buses are custom made and narrower than normal. The history of place and its unique geography make for some of the best water to land to home 

settings I have ever seen. Tiny 250 year old shacks that were floated across the bay and perched on the shore. We loved it. The place is totally gay and Commercial Street is like a very happy Carmel on acid. We took a tour of the city because we couldn't drive it and the tour was excellent. We had a great dinner at Napi's and cruised back to the RV where we experienced 12 hours of rain. The only upside

to this was a great memory from my grad school days. The original California College of Arts and Crafts 

in Oakland had a funky cafeteria with a tin roof and no insulation. The cafe was staffed by moms in white cafeteria garb. The moms cared for us kids and the air of home was strong. When it would rain the sound in the place lulled the occupants into a warm blanket that we all shared. Even the moms would slow down and let us turn off the lights so we hang out and be dreamy. 

We left our camp site at 8 with Lily wrapped in a down comforter half asleep. We head down Cape Code and headed to Plymouth, Mass. We were going to stop at 12 Winter St. The birthplace of Jan Johnston. Jan was my friend Reid's mom. She passed away not long and her ashes were scattered here.

It felt good to stop by and pay our respects to one of the brightest, most articulate, funny, well traveled and beautiful women I have ever known. If there was ever an opportunity for a mom swap I would have gone for Jan. 

We drove through Plymouth and headed West on highway 44. On this 2 lane road through Mass,  Road Island and Connecticut we finally found fall and it was spectacular! Who says dayglo is not a color found in nature?

And we got Lily's pictures from her photo shoot.

Connecticut tree turds.

Breakfast in the rv

beach and bikes

Jan Johnston's home

fall

more fall

Don't be fooled by the scenery.

The drive on 95 north through New Jersey and New York is Godzilla scale crap! Those roads can do physical damage to the inhabitants of an RV. When we hit Massachusetts the smooth and well kept asphalt welcomed us.  After a long day of bad roads and traffic jams we arrived at our Groton campground. The place is on the grounds of an old plantation and the vibe from the moment we entered was STEPFORD! As a white guy in a white family, I get to point out when white can be creepy. This place has the creep factor big time. I am reminded of 1970 when I moved to Minneapolis to teach. The first thing that I found was what I thought were biting fruit flies. I had just met the Minnesota state bird, the Mosquito. Within a few days I started to realize that there were lots of white people but not so many brown, black or Yellow. When I went to the State Fair         (biggest in America) one of the first food booths I saw was “ HOT DAGOS” I mentioned to my host that if this booth was in New York or San Francsico it would be fire bombed in minutes.  I was born and raised in the bay area and the full rainbow of color was ever present. I really thought every place was like this?

Today we took the rv for a spin into Mystic Seaport and the village of Stonington. These places are all on the national register of postcards. They are beautiful, clean and perfect. The Mystic draw Bridge had NO RUST on it. None! Each rivet was attended to. You can tell that there is some white glove inspector that does the entire bridge. In between the two villages we stopped at the  “Big Y world class Market” and under the name was the tagline “ American Owned “ That kind of told us right where we were.

Today the Atlantic waves were more like lake waves, I understand that when there is a NOR EASTR that it gets hairy but today there were only sissy waves.

The area is kinda Disneyesque, seductive and omenness.

Tomorrow we head Through Road Island and up to Truro, Mass.

Mom's cookies were pretty good.

I agree with this completely

There are similarities to the Left O Doul bridge over McOvey Cove but you can eat off of this one.

I love late 19th century engineering.

Postcard Stonington

Lily gets in touch with Cousin It.

I am not really sure where I am but it is in Pennsylvania and we are about half n hour from Philadelphia. We are staying two days to catch up with ourselves and plan a second half our trip.

Kinda sounds like my life but I am on my final third, the second half is long gone.

The sky is presenting a perfect Ganz field; the speckless middle blue sky flattens itself against the leafy edges of the trees and seems to be on the same plane.

It is sunny and 73 in Westchester, Pa. It feels good to hang out in the shade and watch the leaves turn colors. The smoke from over a neighbor’s campfire rises straight up. Dead calm and beautiful.  The low angle of late afternoon light mixes with the green grass and gives up and honest chartreuse. I love this color and use it a lot in my sculpture.

Notes on RV travel: The 1999 Fleetwood Tioga has been very good to us. I have a relationship with objects so it is very easy for me to thank our rolling home. It has treated us very well and we appreciate it. It is also good to know that the person who sold us the RV was honest.

Things to know if you ever take a trip like this:

Open the refrigerator very slowly after driving.

Have a roll of VHB double stick tape, 2” gaffer’s tape or Visquine tape and scotch tape. Blue painters tape is also good.

A transparent elbow for your black water tank. This is not simply to watch the toilet fish swim out of your tank but it does lets you know when your tank is completely empty and if anything may be stuck?

Always empty your black water tank first so your grey water flushes your hose.

Attempt to control your environment or it will quickly consume you.

Get Zen and try to be in touch with the exterior space that you are occupying. Trees are not always your friends!

Your Rv will become your home.

Tomorrow the other ocean

I am liking this.

PS.

Ganz Field: This is the physics illusion the LA artist Doug Wheeler first put into sculptural form over 35 years ago. It was wheelers work that introduced Jim Turell to the Ganz field and he ran with it. I am always amazed at how one idea can carry some artists so long? But that is another story completely.

Next to our campsite was the very rare and exotic -Shrubus Andreanocus 

Leaving NYC

In no particular order. The MOMA was so crowded you couldn’t enjoy the art. I was bummed. My advanced age has accumulated to many experiences of museum going in sparsely filled rooms; the intimate experience of being with the art wasn’t possible at the MOMA. The place crowded like a sale at Macy’s. Some of the art I really like and that is personally moving to me was off the tourist radar so I got spend some intimate time with Joseph Cornell, Marcel Duchamp, Brancusi, and HC Westerman. The museum felt like being on a freeway filled with rubberneckers slowing down to see an accident.

Lily wanted to be in some crowded New York street scenes so we left the Museum and headed south down 5^th ave. Lots of people, lots of women in too tight clothes and painful (but attractive) heels with faces that looked passed you as to not be seen and then glanced at you to be sure that they were being seen. We walked down to 42^nd. St And over to Times Square. I miss the seediness of the hustlers, peep shows and people of questionable gender. Once more the creeping NICE has leveled another area to make it comfortable and feel like a mall that you have seen in lots a movies.

We spent the night at our friend Robins sisters place. (Robin was baby sitting and there was an empty 3 floor.) We stopped at the Chelsea market, got food and I used a real kitchen to make dinner.

Yesterday was Lily’s photo shoot. There is an agency in SF that is interested in her modeling and sent us to their favorite photographer in New York. Lily was nervous but not too nervous for a good Lunch at Sarah Beth’s in Tribeca. Fabulous Guacamole with homemade Potato chips. All of the food was good. We spent 2 ½ hours in the photo shoot and Maxim got some great images. It took about an hour for Lily to lighten up. Once a friendly conversation broke out between the Photographers, make up artist and the family the energy shifted. Lily laughed and relaxed, then the photos got good fast. Afterwards  we went for dinner at the Tribeca Grill with our friend Robin. Great food, really nice place and a perfect way to walk off the island for the last time on this trip.

4 days have come and gone, we have walked out butts off, traveled through many holes in the ground, ate some great food, saw art, fashion, tightly wrapped uncomfortable women and a decreased grit factor. The spread of money is obvious and common. San Francisco bears the same scars as Lower NYC. Creeping moneyed white people happily

displacing who ever and whatever culture had established itself and it is OK because they can afford it. Nothing cleans a consciences like cash.  Brooklyn has welcomed the refuges driven out of the city and Brooklyn is better for it.

I don’t mean to leave the impression that I didn’t have a god time, because I did. It is just that Creeping NICE bums me out.

The Hot Dog that Lily wanted but never got. 100% natural.

Lily working with Maxim in Tribeca studio.

The perfect hand cut potato chip heart ( with guac.) Loves speaks a unique language and Andrea and I understand this one. A little green goop is what make loves real and taste good too.

the cat on the hat

A Times Sq. I would never have recongized.

Getting lost in New Jersey ---- again!@#$%^&*(

Lily growing a mustache in front of the Bitter End.

The interior of the Chief Martindale Diner  - Taconic Parkway at Highway 23. NY. 

We are all just one big happy family. NYC RV OK!

When we left our bucolic Copake campsite I felt a creeping unease with my history of getting lost in New Jersey. There is getting lost and then there is finding yourself in a knot of old, un-kept, poorly marked roads that lead to every where and nowhere at the same time. At least on three previous driving trips I have found the New Jersey that Butts up against NYC has roads that were where not designed or maintained. Rather they grew like ivy in an uncontrolled fashion.

I insisted on driving because I am skilled at the urban maneuvers necessary to get where you want to with out fear of breaking as many laws as necessary to achieve that goal.

We missed one turn and were in the poop big time? After getting off the highway and parking to consider our options we started off again. We accidentally saw something that was familiar and went for it.

We were on some highway and needed to merge left but the guy in the Red pickup wasn’t going to let us move over so I get forced into the parking lot lanes for the meadowland stadium. For about ½ mile we travel next to the lane I needed to be in, separated only but a single curb. I tell Andrea I am going for it. She can’t believe it. I slow down to a crawl, look left for a good size break, see it and slowly jump the curb and hit the gas ------ we were back in the game. We almost found ourselves heading into the Holland tunnel but a right turn in front of 5 lanes of traffic took care of that. We pick our way through Jersey City to the Marina/RV Park with view of the Statue of Liberty. The place has 50 spaces for RV’s and about 4 for people with tents. It is a gravel parking lot with all of us crammed in, nice and cozy. We hooked up – had a break down – went out for a really bad dinner came home, crashed and started to laugh.

The next day: We are 5 blocks from the path train into the city. Today we went in and met our friend Robin who just happened to be here at the same time. Great to see her and it is off for Chinese food on Mott Street and then Espresso and pastry on Mulberry st. From 1973 to 1991 I spent one month a year here.  I stayed on Prince and West Broadway, Lafayette at Broadway and Jane St. in the west Village. It looked familiar but didn’t feel it. In 73 when I did my first show with Lou Meisel there was only about 8 galleries in Soho. There were no restaurants open on the weekends and no boutiques. This was still a light industrial zone. Now the galleries have been replaced by upscale everything and the vibe is NICE.

I think NICE is a creeping evil that displaces the essential nature of growth and replaces it with the comfort of familiarity.

I stopped in and saw Lou Meisel and it was like a day hadn’t gone by. Great feeling to be reunited with an old friend who shares an important part of my past.

We walked up Bleeker St. to Christopher St. and caught the path train back to Jersey City and the warmth and comfort of our home on wheels. 

Johnstown to Hudson

Here we are like just the idiots that stand in the street at the foot of Lombard Street SF.

Andrea - the nook ( book) wine and America growing in the glass of Syrah. Camping at it's best.

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Today started with the 9^th straight day of rain. Up until yesterday the rain came down in spurts from broken clouds. There was some sun, some rain and multiple shades of gray. The countryside was close yet expansive. Then openness of California’s forest is matched by the tightly compacted grasses, shrubs, trees and creeping greenery of the east.

The green comes right up to the side of the two lane roads with trees over hanging the asphalt.

We started today’s trip entering route 9J south at Albany as it crosses the Hudson River.

There is a poem by Lawrence Ferlingetti “ Albany New York” I first heard him read this about 45 plus years ago. The poem comes from a book called starting from San Francisco, published in 1958. I have always been able to hear his opening line “ My how the Hudson burns in Indian Autumn” The poem describes a bus ride down the Hudson and ends up looking at the fallen leaves and how they are being hurt by wooden rakes and finally surrender in a fire and give it up. This is my only connection to Albany and it brought us here to start our slow journey to NY.

Route 9 is a tight two-lane road that starts in derelict beauty. Like a lot of the country that is off the interstate you finds nature reclaiming it’s territory. Wooden barns, brick silos, abandoned power plants, bridge pilings with no bridge,  all slowly being welcomed back to mother earth. Sad and beautiful. There are many fieldstone and cobble stone building that display a wide variety of TAN. I normally find the concept of TAN to be non-committal, not brown, not yellow not white. TAN? Like the painting of Agnes Martin the muted, honest tones of these stones, take TAN to a really good place.

We stopped in Hudson to see the gallery of Mark McDonald. Mark shows and sells great mid century stuff and has written many books that have put Artist like Lesa Mcvey in a place that history can find them. Great town, full of art, food and America’s first AWA restaurant. I had never heard of this. Apparently it stands for “ Animal Wellness Award” not only are the animals organic, they have also been provided with a very high standard of living; maybe they have cable? Whatever it is The Hudson Diner is the first!

Our campsite is great and we are alone in the woods. The sky is moody, the air is dead still and the temperature is warm and moist.

Andre’s giant pasta from last night was recycled into dinner for three people and cookies that were purchased at a street fair in Johnstown are desert.

Tomorrow – camping in New York City.