Second Saturday Fun- photos in reverse order, oops!

It was a beautiful night, especially for November, and a light jacket was enough warmth.  The honey wasn't in the mood for crowds, so I was dropped near the alley where some of my pieces were hung in 3 new condos.  They worked well with the modern architecture and furnishings.  I was really happy to hear that the developer, architects and designer loved them. 

Being Sacramento, you are bound to run into tons of folks you know.  Turns out I knew the architects and the designer and ran into my friend Jim.  He took us out for Tequila shots at a nearby restaurant.  From there I walked to my next destination, the gallery where my friend Phil Simpson's ceramics were being shown.  The place was packed and difficult to see the works, especially so because there were ballet dancers performing in the room.

As I walked to the next venue I saw thru the windows of a gallery the most amazing sight.  A burned forest, not the sort of art typical of Sacramento.  We don't see a lot in installations here, lack of funding I suppose.

The wife of the artist approached me because I was taking tons of photos.  She wasn't angry, just curious.  We talked for a long time and she introduced me to her husband Gong Yeubin.  Both lovely and engaging people.  I stood back and watched the reactions and interactions of the crowd who walked between the charred, painted and chained forest with faces filled with awe.  The environment had a strange draw, I felt reverent and in the midst of spirits.  Then a fellow offered me a shot of tequila!

From there I ended up at the Bicycle Cafe where my friend Larry Rodriguez was dj-ing and celebrating his birthday.  Another shot of tequila! Old friends, new friends, great conversations, some palm reading, beer on tap, dancing, then the police.  We got "locked down" by the owner of the business and stuck for a bit.  Eventually, they let us out. 

Happy Birthday Flower Vato!

The Curse of The Two Rivers

Some people in Sacramento believe in The Curse.  It's supposedly derived from an old Native American belief about the power of the two rivers
(The Sacramento and The American).  The "curse" comes into play when someone swears to never live in Sacramento again but is inexplicably drawn back. 

I have always loved my city, especially because of the rivers.  We grew up on the American River.  Spent our summers (all day, every day) swimming, sunbathing, and jumping off "Big Bertha". As teenagers we skipped high school to do "bad things" at the river, we hid from park rangers on weekend nights, rafted it on the 4th of July, and picked up trash along its' banks (never could understand the desire to spend time in a beautiful place but leave crap behind). 

My best dreams are when I am floating on my back down a river watching the trees and sky pass over head and the feeling of complete contentment.  I prefer a river to the ocean.  The ocean is endless and intimidating for me but a river is intimate and enfolding (well, maybe not The Nile).

Today we went to The Sacramento River, much different than The American as it is wider, the cliffs are usually steeper, not great for beaches, and the plant life is quite different.  We live about 8 minutes drive from where we were today.  How can I drive over it nearly every day and ignore its' beauty?  I have no good excuses.

I'd nearly forgotten that I am supposed to put some photos in a show on Tuesday. They are to go into some new condo in midtown for Second Saturday. The condo is being furnished with mid-century modern furniture and I have been in a quandary as to what I should shoot. So, I photographed some burned California Wild Grape vines and isolated sections- going for a sort of abstract, minimal thing. I like them, not really "my style", but will anyone else?

                 

 

 

Random Shot - Lasting Memories

My friend Alex. We met 21 years ago during Oktoberfest in Munchen. My two girlfriends and I were trying to get back to the room we'd rented after drinking so many large beers in the various tents filled with oom pah pah music and men who were eager to provide free drinks.


We had taken the right track heading in the wrong direction. When we realized our mistake we got off in the middle of nowhere in the middle of night. As we waited for the right train at the small station a young man asked to bumb a cigarette. That wrong train put us in the right place.


One of my friends was heading back to Amsterdam but two of us moved into Alex's house the next day. He'd warned us that it was just the attic of his parents house. Expecting a hovel,we fell in love with the beautiful, old Bavarian home that had been built by his grandfather and the huge gardens that surrounded it.


Our accommodations were a fully furnished apartment on the 3rd floor that we shared with Alex, a long-haired, beautiful, wild-child, musician, artist. Every morning his mother, Maria would bake bread and deliver a tray of deliciousness and strong coffee up to us. She cooked from her garden, grew mushrooms in the basement and took us in as if we were her own, constantly prodding us to "essen". She even had a hang-over cure aperitif called something like "Kloster Frau Melissen Geist", something about a nun and a flower and a ghost?


The next weeks were filled with excursions to the countryside, late night gigs and parties, great food and lots and lots of strong beer. My friend and I both fell in love with Alex, needless to say that was a problem. I "got" him, she felt like a 3rd wheel. For her a nightmare for me a dream. Meandering in the rain on the grounds of Schloss Nymphenburg, drinking hot tea in the 150 year old apartment of his enchanting friend Anja, long walks and lingering kisses.


He followed me back to the states and lived with us for long periods of time. Our relationship didn't work in the new world but we continued to be great friends. He practiced his tattooing skills on our friends and eventually opened his own parlor in Munchen.


We have each travelled to see the other and remain friends today.

Faith