I remember where; I was living in Maine, involved with building a co-housing artist community. And so, I must remember when. The mid ‘80s. I was going through an expressionistic phase and putting auras in drawings. Cartoonish, to be sure. But the work was dead serious. I remembered these - but only found bad detail images of the works on paper. After Koudelka’s captivating photography. It is interesting to figure what was going on when past moments were recorded in your life — as art is a recording of your life.
I heard today via internet that Danny Kaye is only remembered by his aging audience - something profoundly sad about that, if it is true.
Write about it again … you’re not done with it.
Of literary devices never used.
Nightmare projects listing themselves.
Non-sequitur - write a story of a man flip booking through an encyclopedia or switching the tv from channel to channel.
A trilogy that goes together kicking and screaming.
Someone in the next room trying to get all the attention.
Did you hear?
It all seems miles away.
I think it’s rare to meet folks who were exposed to the kind of eclectic-ness that we were, Jayne. You, because of all the travel that your family saw/experienced; me, because of living in such different worlds, everyday: growing up on a tiny family farm in rural central Florida, while attending parochial school in a poor urban neighborhood populated mainly by Cuban immigrants fleeing Castro. So…Danny Kaye? Our Yia-Yia knew of him, and our moms. And I loved watching him. But current generation? I’d be shocked if they have ever heard of him. Heck, many of them don’t know…Chaplin!ReplyDelete