Anti-Bummer Art

One thing that equally bums Dan out and cheers him up is art. Bad art is often unforgivable, making Dan go on a tirade about art school debt and talentless trust fund kids who plague New York galleries. Good art, on the other hand, makes an otherwise gloomy Saturday afternoon bright and reminds both Dan & ODA of their own dormant creativity. Unlike a museum visit where you can usually count on a few good art stars - dead or alive - to be on view, a typical walk through Chelsea (made up of mostly "pop-tart art," or young-ish contemporary artists) is a crap-shoot, consisting of about 80% bad art and 20% good art. Of that 20%, 3-5% is mind-blowing work (of course, all art is 100% subjective). Check out the new sidebar, Anti-Bummers, for an accumulating list of Dan's version of inspiring art.

Ricky, My Hero

While I've known about Richard Leacock - the legendary documentary filmmaker and co-founder of "direct cinema" - and his films for years, I'd never heard him speak publicly before (mainly because he's lived in France with his sweetheart since the '80s). Recently, he returned to Stinky Town for a little show-and-tell and all of his disciples were in attendance, from D.A. Pennebaker and Al Maysles to Michael Moore in the back row. Much like my experience attending a Werner Herzog Q&A a few years back, I gained so much more respect for the person upon hearing them (this was especially wonderful because, of course, it more often turns out for the worse and your heroes turn out to be frauds or complete assholes).

In between screenings of a few of his (shot by or directed) short films - Toby and the Tall Corn, Happy Mother's Day and Jazz Dance - I was introduced to Leacock's amazing, brutally honest and revealing commentary on this so-called industry:

On the airing of one of his early films on television: "It was on... then it was gone... it was weird! Having something on TV is like tossing a feather into the Grand Canyon and waiting to hear an echo. Nothing!"

On pitching doc ideas to television execs today: "The assumptions of professional film-making are bizarre. You must have a "subject." Well in a sense, yes. When Piazzetta sketched his wife, his daughter... one day in the late 18th century, he had a subject, but would it have persuaded the producer of a major TV network that it would grab the undivided attention of a portion of his 15,000,000 potential viewers? And besides, this producer only deals in one hour slots. (Like the psychiatrist's hour it is actually less, say four 13 minute segments)."

On making documentary film, and himself: "I have been starting to think about documentary filmmaking instead of just doing it, and I think that for a long time I have been teaching things that I don't really believe in. My thinking has changed a lot... I think that for me I'm beginning to pay more attention to what I want and less attention to what people want me to do. In many respects I begin to think that most of my live I have filmed the wrong things and more and more I am beginning to regret it."

Equally cranky geezer and eloquent author, Leacock gave me hope for growing old while making fun things that just won't sell.

One More Year

Last month was lease renewal time for Dan's Stinky Town apartment near the Gawanus. Probably as a result of all of the complaining we've done over the past 12 months, the landlord decided to raise the rent... again. This time by $75/month! Despite the urge to relocate to a building with kinder, more respectful neighbors (Ha! Does one exist?), we signed the dreaded paperwork and have settled in for one more year. Beforehand, we did check the rentometer to make sure we weren't being gouged TOO badly. Sadly, it turns out this little nook in Brooklyn is just getting outrageously expensive to dwell in. Blame it on the greedy realtors who've obnoxiously anointed this area "BoCoCa," the hipster hoards or the recent influx of celebs calling it home... In any case, I wonder how the two unemployed chain-smoking 50-somethings in the apartment below ours can continue to afford this coveted joint.

Dan's Metal Memory of the Month: 10/06

The Priest wins this month's slot for '80s heavy metal flashback nugget. Just making the time frame, Breaking The Law was the band's big hit on their British Steel album from 1980. This particular tune takes Dan back to different time... a simpler time... when paychecks were wasted on chrome rims, lunch was just a choice between Burger King or Wendy's, and one's career goal consisted of lobstering or pumping gas at the local Sunshine station.

(The runner-up Priest track was a rare Rocka Rolla video from 1975, featuring Rob Halford as a Robert Plant wannabe, but alas - not from the 1980s. For the complete evolution of Halford's on-stage identity, check out his latest look as he rejoins the band and resurrects a Baez cover!)

Commuter Complaint #2

What's that smell? Stinky Town is the only city where Dan has encountered such a range of odd & awful odors on a single outing. Today, for example, while traveling between home base and his workstation a mere 45 minutes uptown on the F/B subway line, Dan's nose involuntarily witnessed more than 23 foreign smells (2 were pleasant, 1 was unknown but not terrible, and the remaining 20 were downright putrid). Even above ground, it's amazing how one sweet smell can be so short-lived as it is conquered by the stench of death floating by - gone as quickly as it snuck up. (Sometimes, even the sweet smells can be suspect.) Underground, as any seasoned strap-hanger knows, is a whole different story: a myriad of alien scents immediately dominate both the dank, dirty platforms as well as most of the cars' interior space. To better prepare his fellow commuters, Dan recommends the diligent use of assisted breathing apparatus. To avoid looking like a freak though, use this handy map as an alternative guide.

Fall

While it goes without saying that Dan is a bummer about many things, one annual event that always cheers him up is the coming of Fall! While the season of dead leaves also signifies the rumbling of Winter just around the corner, Dan can look forward to at least a month or so of orange, yellow, red, green and brown. Those vivid colors against a deep blue sky make Stinky Town a bit more tolerable. October, most of all, is one of the most beautiful months in NYC. The air, no longer heavy and humid, is more crisp and actually seems cleaner. Much more so than New Year's Day in January, Autumn is about the past, harvesting what's left behind from this round of one's life. Some say it's a sad time, but one has to embrace melancholy at least once a year. Fall makes Dan want to live on a pumpkin patch up in secluded Sleepy Hollow and write poetry until all the leaves are gone...

Who now has no house, will not build one.
Who now is alone, will remain so for long,
will wake, and read, and write long letters
and back and forth on the boulevards
will restlessly wander, while the leaves blow.

-Rainer Maria Rilke

I ran away...

...to join the circus this weekend. I'd heard that one was passing by not too far from the Stinky Town borders, so off I went. I've always loved the road and those who live on it - even part time - are inspiring. In particular, I went in search of the black sheep of the traveling circus: the sideshow...


As I wandered through the vast fairgrounds, I wondered WHY they always put the livestock exhibits near the food vendors. But who doesn't like the smell of fried dough and Italian sausage mixing in the air with sheep dung and diesel fumes spilling over from the grandstand racetracks?


Baked potatoes, pizza slices, candied apples, apple dumplings, ice cream, cotton candy, popcorn, knishes, onion blossoms, funnel cake, chocolate covered bananas with or without sprinkles, donuts, homemade fudge, french fries with salt & vinegar... all pass by in people's hands.


After spotting the sideshow on the map, I took a shortcut through the arts & crafts barn - often the best and most sincere of all the fair exhibits.


I inevitably found myself amok in the no-man's land of stuff that can only be found at local fairs or along the margins of flea markets. Surrounded by endless rows of Slipknot Ts, leather wristbands and "authentic" dream-catchers, I spotted an exit with bright lights beyond...


Screams of teenage girls high above aboard the Ferris Wheel, Avalanche and Zipper (my all-time favorite) finally lead me to a back lot of the fair, just northeast of the rumbling midway...



"World's Smallest Horse," "Monster Rat: Alive!" and "Giant Man-Eating Alligator." All the signs told me that I was in the right neighborhood...


Finally, I saw the bright banners of the World of Wonders Sideshow and heard the same voice that thousands of other carnival-goers have heard for the past 61 years...


Ward Hall! Known as the "King of the Sideshow," Hall has been involved with the mobile circus since he was 13 (first official gig: clown). Recently emerged from retirement, Hall operates what is said to be the last traveling sideshow in the country. He's had many freak show greats on his stage, including "Priscilla the Monkey Girl," "Sealo the Seal Boy" and "Abdul the Arabian Giant."


Today, on the inside of the tent, the freaks of the past have been replaced by young fire-eaters, sword-swallowers and contortionists...


And the occasional illusion of the born freak of yester-year, like the "Tarantula Woman" or "Cobra Girl!"


Some things haven't changed though: like the classic "pickled punks" (for the extra cost of only $1.00) behind the back curtain...


And Pete Terhurne who, for over five decades, has been performing around the United States with Hall as "Poo-Bah the Fire-Eating Pygmy."


Although Hall told me that, due to the rainy weather, it was a "slow day," I counted more than 50 curious folks paying $2 per head to enter the sideshow tent in under an hour. Not bad for a "dying pastime."


However, in the end, I fell asleep in the bleachers watching the Pennsylvania monster truck tournament. When I awoke the next morning in a cold puddle of melted ice cream and beer, the circus had left town with the World of Wonders Sideshow in tow. They must be in Georgia by now... Maybe next year?