2/23

I was watching Connecticut play West Virginia in college basketball last night and I couldn't help but be weirdly fascinated with West Virginia coach Bob Huggins. Huggins, who has the distinction of not graduating a single player during the entire time he coached at Cincinnati, no longer even tries looking like a professional college coach on the sidelines during a game. While most coaches still wear a suit or coat and tie (Pat Knight at Texas Tech goes with the golf shirt) during games, Huggins wears a turtle neck shirt and a black track suit top. His hair is slicked back so the only thing keeping him from looking like Paulie Walnuts of the 'Sopranos' is a white streak.

I finally got around to seeing Harry Callahan: American Photographer at the Boston MFA yesterday and although it is fairly small (only about 40 images) it was really good. There is an elegant simplicity to his work that is very powerful and each image is perfectly composed. And after seeing so much contemporary art photography where the size of prints are enormous, it was a relief to view these small wonderfully printed photographs. Looking at each one was like viewing a short story.

2/21

It's been a few weeks but it's hard to stop thinking about graduate school. It was so intense for so long that I find it hard to reintegrate myself back into a world without papers to write or books to read. It's oddly relaxing to suddenly have nothing due on Monday or next week or next month. I feel calm and anxious at the same time.

I also keep thinking about the teachers in the program. To review and consider what I learned but mostly to really appreciate the majority of the faculty. Especially those who were generous with their opinions and knowledge. The ones who tried to help you rather than dictating the direction of your work or how you should get there. The good ones listened to your ideas and worked with you. They didn't impose their own sensibilities on you or wanted you to make work that would look like theirs.

These faculty members were actually really good teachers, not just working artists who needed a paycheck. They were the ones who went above and beyond the job's requirements. They weren't lazy, burned out, selfish or arrogant. They did much more than the minimum.

The reality is that all the students knew who was working hard and who was phoning it in. It was painfully obvious.

The great teachers will stay with me forever. I will always appreciate their kindness and generosity for the gift it was. The other lazy or disinterested ones? I can't forget them fast enough.

1/23

I graduated last Saturday so I now officially have my MFA.

Twenty four straight months of reading, writing, thinking, photographing, processing, printing, framing, articulating and ultimately defending my work is now complete. I can finally exhale.

About a year ago a friend wondered if I thought my work would better or worse when I finished this program. I wondered myself. Right up until the very end as I wrestled with different theories and comments from various faculty members. It was not an easy process and it stirred up difficult feelings about myself, my life, my values and my work. Many times it felt pointless and I thought about quitting hundreds of times.

Now that's it over is my work better?

I think so.

Definitely.

12/30

Well, I finally made it to YouTube.

And I didn't even know it.

I was watching old concert videos of the band NRBQ (still one of the great American bands) and during one of 'Shake, Rattle and Roll' there I was in the front of the stage with my friend Janet. Just for a split second about 4 minutes into the song. I have this goofy grin on my face and look like I've had more than a few beers. Crazy. The Paradise in Boston. 1982.

I also saw the Robert Frank show at The Met a month or so ago and it was really interesting to see the entirety of 'The Americans' on exhibit. It was the exact order from the book and having them displayed side by side allowed viewers to see how the images refer to each other in a much different way. Plus seeing entire walls of photos on the same theme made you realize how much consideration Frank had given to how this work was organized. It's an incredible body or work and still packs a wallop. My only complaint was the quality of the prints. They seemed to have been compiled from people's personal collections so they varied both in size and quality. Some were beautiful and some looked like bad work prints; over or under exposed, dust spots etc. I couldn't help but wonder why The Met hadn't had a new pristine set of exhibition prints made for this occasion (it's the 50th anniversary of 'The Americans') instead of showing a group of mismatched prints. I could only help but wonder if Frank (notoriously prickly) wouldn't allow it or if the original negatives had been lost, damaged or destroyed.

Still, the best show I saw last year was 'Intersected: The Photography of David Goldblatt' at the New Museum. An amazing retrospective of work he's done in South Africa, both before and after apartheid. It's great documentary photography and great art. Most importantly it makes you think. Bravo.

8/8

I read in the NY Times this morning that singer Willy DeVille had died yesterday of cancer. He was 58.

Willy was one of my all-time favorites and someone who was completely underrated as both a singer and a songwriter. He originated in the NYC punk scene in the late 1970's, playing CBGB's in the band Mink DeVille. They were tremendous, but more Spanish Harlem street corner meets Doc Pomus than the Ramones, Blondie or Television.

The first time I saw them was 1980 at Lupo's in Providence, RI. and I was completely hooked. Willy came out in his usual skin tight suit pants, purple ruffled tuxedo shirt, his hair in a shiny black pompadour. The band looked like they were in the mob, dressed entirely in black with leather jackets, pork pie hats; everyone smoking cigarettes. I don't remember if they wore pinkie rings. By the end of the show, Willy was so loose the roadies had to carry him back onstage for the encore.

I saw him four or five more times after that in Boston and he was amazing each time. He also made a bunch of great albums. 'Cabretta', 'Return to Magenta', 'Le Chat Bleu', 'Backstreets of Desire' and 'Loup Garou' were my favorites. These recordings feel timeless and are filled with great melodies, incredible lyrics and soulful singing. Willy never got his due but made great music his entire career. He was one of the best.

New Work pt 7 (Chelsea iphone photos)

New Work pt 6