June 2, 2014

June 2, 2014

For many years now, I have an original piece of artwork from Lotte Reiniger, which is part of her silhouette animated film made in 1935, called “Papageno,” which is based on Mozart’s popular opera “Die Zauberföte” (The Magic Flute).  The work is in my office, and I look at it often while writing my memoir.   The piece is important to me for numerous reasons.  I have an interest in animation, especially from the 1920s to the late 30s, after that, I lost interest because in my thinking the earliest is the most dynamic, and afterwards its history being repeated over and over again.  The other reason why I like this specific work is that it reminds me of the Tarzan film series starring Johnny Weissmuller.  In the time of my childhood, I used to watch these films on a Saturday morning, which was in competition against the animated children programming on the other channels.  My loyalty belonged to Cheeta, Boy, Jane, and of course Johnny.  As well as to the Reiniger artwork.

Oddly enough, I purchased this piece without seeing the final film.  It was years later that I came upon the film, and it reminded me of the romance between Tarzan and Jane, and the playful sexuality among the two.  The silhouette figures make the work more dreamlike, but also it is quite erotic to me. Porn is a subjective category, what works for some, may not work for others, but Lotte’s film is like dipping into the pool of sensuality and I’m reminded of this every time I look at her piece on my wall.  It wasn’t that long ago, while I was resting between writing, that I was listening to Charlie Watts’ “Live Fulham Town Hall” album and glancing at the artwork.  I noticed something that was quite shocking at the time, and this was the fact that there are two silhouette figures on a tree limb on the lest side of the picture.  The odd thing was now, there was only one, and the remaining figure is sitting on the tip of the limb.  What happened to the other figure?

I went through a book on Reiniger’s work, and saw the piece I have, and yes, just to ensure that, there were two figures on that tree limb.  I went to the kitchen and made myself a tequila sunrise, and came back to my office.  I even took the picture off my wall to look behind it. Just in case the figure left the image, and somehow was hiding behind the artwork.  Not there, of course!  I took a place, with my drink, to figure this out logically, which is an error on my part, because my whole life is either controlled by the role of chance, and without a doubt logic has never been part of the picture.

I have often felt that art lives within pages of a book and of course as an object on a wall, but that was only a theory - now I’m seeing something else, that is making me re-think about how static one’s life is, and how that is expressed through art.  That night I couldn’t sleep, and I was lured into my office in the middle of the night to examine the work again.  I, at first, sat in my chair and was looking at the work in absolute darkness.  Of course I couldn’t see it, but I sat there and imagined what it would look like.  I’m aware of the great Oscar Wilde novel “The Picture of Dorian Gray” and I guess I was in a tad fearful that I was looking at Basil Hallward’s portrait, and like anyone else who wakes up in the middle-of-the-night, comes upon a fear that is deep and terrifying. I held my breath and turned on the light to examine the Reiniger, and what surprised me the most was the figure was back in the picture.  I took my art book out and looked at that as well, and the figure is exactly placed and position as in the book.  I now wonder if I suffered a mild insanity attack of some sort, or perhaps I entered a dimension like in the comic book Superman’s Bizzaro World. Nevertheless, after needing to examine the picture, I decided everything is well with the world and went back to bed.

The funny thing is that I avoided the office since then, and had the cleaning lady to bring my laptop to the living room, where I am typing as I address you.  Sometimes we have no control of art, and art is what leads us by the hand or mind…  I often feel alone, and I can imagine myself being embraced by Jane and Tarzan, as I wonder through the maze that is my head and heart.

April 11, 2014

April 11, 2014

Like Marcel Proust commenting on the cookie that brought up memories, the Sony transistor radio serves the same role in my life.  It was probably the first real serious object that I owned.   I haven’t the foggiest idea what the radio originally cost, but it was a magical entrance to another world.  As I was going through my storage boxes I ran across the radio, and I couldn’t believe I still had it.   For me, the first time I seriously listened to music was on this hand held machine.  The sound or the reception was never perfect, but it somehow added a sense of magic to the process.   There is what you heard when you see musicians play live, and then there is music you hear in a recording studio, and then of course on the turntable, where we had one huge speaker - mono only in the mid 1960s.  But the transistor radio had its own sound, which was tinny, and of course thinking of it now, it would be really annoying to listen to music that way.  But alas, my earliest impression of contemporary music that I liked, was on the transistor radio.  Also it was the first medium or tool for me to use that separate me from my parent’s taste.  Otherwise, I would get my music from my parents record collection and turntable.  My radio allowed me to wander into another world, where only I, can decide what to hear and when to hear it.

The two radio stations that were important to me were KHJ and KRLA.  The latter was actually more important to me because it appeared to be more Beatle related than KHJ.  That was likely to be an illusion on my part, but also the radio station had a newspaper called KRLA Beat, that was sort of like Rolling Stone for the teenage mind.  It was in this publication where I first started reading about music or I should say rock an’ roll stars as they were happening at that time.   KHJ was more personable due to it's DJ, specifically the Real Don Steele.

When I was close to 11 or 12, I went camping on the beach, which was a total horror show for me.  I can never understand the allure of nature for people. It is like they actually prefer dirt than a nice clean lighted place.  The point of time when the hot afternoon turns into a bitter cold evening is disgusting to me.  I remember spending most of the time in the tent that we brought with us.  Even that, the temperature was just so hot, but still, I didn’t want to be outside. So I put up with the heat to read the comic books that I brought with me to fight off the boredom of sand, blue sky, and ocean.  The transistor radio brought a sense of relief for me, because I used it as an object to block out the noise on the beach.  But what was really beautiful to me was playing the radio in the night, and I often would go off by myself near the ocean to sit on the cold sand.  I put the radio by my ear and it was like getting messages from another world.  I couldn’t imagine life without that radio.

Also the use of my imagination kept me alert during our beach holidays.  I imagine myself as Boy, the son of Tarzan.  Often I would imagine that my dad was the King of the Jungle, instead of Johnny Weissmuller.  I would have these elaborate narratives running through my head that I saved my dad and Jane (actually my mom) from some horrible circumstances that went beyond their control.   Those fantasies came with the soundtrack that was on the radio, and I remember actually listening to a program called  “The Shadow” while on the beach as well.  Hearing a show like that was very mysterious and a tad scary -especially in the nighttime on the beach.

Ironically I played “Boy” to Taylor Mead’s Tarzan in an Andy Warhol film, but that’s another narrative.  Nevertheless I am always thankful for Sony for bringing the magic of another world to me.