Saturday, April 03, 2010
Full steam ahead!
Release the hounds! What a crazy-busy week, everything seems to be happening at once, after what was, on the exterior at least, a long quiet winter of a whole lot of nothing. The big news around here is that we found a carpenter who has started work on our attic renovation. We decided to move ahead and try to get it done, spend that tax refund, live for today, since this great builder is available now. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it. The sweet sound of a nail gun and radial arm saw is echoing from the third floor, as we speak. Music to my ears. It feels so good to invest in this place, and in myself as a painter. And yet, spending money makes me a bit twitchy, to be honest, so I haven't been sleeping well. But more importantly, I have been painting well and have a few exhibits planned for this summer. All good.
Between paintings I inhaled the Warhol Diaries. The editor, Pat Hackett, took down the diary entries every weekday, over the phone from Andy, for years. Some were on tape. She says in the introduction that the diary was originally 20,000 pages. She edited it down to over 800 - didn't want it to sound too much like a laundry list of names and places. So, if Andy went to five parties in one night, she narrowed it down to one or two, etc. 20,000 pages! I want the laundry list! All the parties! Unedited! More, more!
Reading this huge book again and loving it so much made me realize, more than ever, that I really must face the fact that I have an odd sense of literary discernment. Which is to say, I may have no sense of literary discernment. Because whatever book I happen to be reading at a given time becomes my new favorite book. And of course I love to talk about how wonderful it is. And then someone may actually go out and buy a copy of said book, and attempt to read it, and find it to be not one's cup of tea in the least. I mean, I love Warhol and his weird diaries, but then, as a teenager, I was up here in rural Maine absolutely glued to Michael Musto's great New York nightlife articles in Details magazine. That to me was really the news. So, Warhol spent time with some of the same people I read about back then in Details. (Long before it became a men's style magazine, I should say.) Old home week! He even mentions Michael Musto, which made me smile. So, all that is to say caveat emptor. In case anyone takes anything I say here seriously. Onward...
Between paintings I inhaled the Warhol Diaries. The editor, Pat Hackett, took down the diary entries every weekday, over the phone from Andy, for years. Some were on tape. She says in the introduction that the diary was originally 20,000 pages. She edited it down to over 800 - didn't want it to sound too much like a laundry list of names and places. So, if Andy went to five parties in one night, she narrowed it down to one or two, etc. 20,000 pages! I want the laundry list! All the parties! Unedited! More, more!
Reading this huge book again and loving it so much made me realize, more than ever, that I really must face the fact that I have an odd sense of literary discernment. Which is to say, I may have no sense of literary discernment. Because whatever book I happen to be reading at a given time becomes my new favorite book. And of course I love to talk about how wonderful it is. And then someone may actually go out and buy a copy of said book, and attempt to read it, and find it to be not one's cup of tea in the least. I mean, I love Warhol and his weird diaries, but then, as a teenager, I was up here in rural Maine absolutely glued to Michael Musto's great New York nightlife articles in Details magazine. That to me was really the news. So, Warhol spent time with some of the same people I read about back then in Details. (Long before it became a men's style magazine, I should say.) Old home week! He even mentions Michael Musto, which made me smile. So, all that is to say caveat emptor. In case anyone takes anything I say here seriously. Onward...
