Cafe Bucky

Lest I be accused of posting nothing but endless zoom blurs …

from Queens … and a closer look …

Afro Blue. John Coltrane. Live At Birdland. Not enough sleep but rarin’ to go today. An art day.

Jazz, audible caffeine. Real Jazz. Not “Smooth Jazz” muzak humming in the background, masquerading as targeted demographic background filler. Irish guys on scaffolding outside, fixing bricks and mortar so that this place in Queens doesn’t leak when Winter Comes. Lots of banter. Lots of “for fucks sake!”. Pretty entertaining. Feel like I’m in Ireland at 8 in the mornin’. Saxophone, Piano, and endless Troweling noises.

My boots are in Eddie’s Shoe Repair, Grand fucking Central Station. Mingling with the well-heeled and bargain-soled alike. They’re eyeing some pretty calfskin boots from the UWS, hoping to nuzzle up and swap stories on fave sidewalks and paths. Gotta get there today before they cause an uproar.

Off to the New York Film Festival in a bit to see “The Barbarian Invasions” (NY Times review).

Then, a PhotoFlashMob! Just can’t say more at this time. I’ll be there though, with clean flashcard and hopefully clean CCD.

Then I’m off to see a fraction of The Met.

Ok, I’m awake now, strains of Coltrane’s take of My Favorite Things. Time for Mocha and the #7 Train. Pack the gear, tote the drink, swipe the card through the gate, hang on, snap away! Gonna be a fun one.

[update: and aside from one hiccup, it was! PhotoFlashMob was to have been on the steps of The Met, but only 3 people showed up out of 20 RSVPs. The organizer is going to try another soon]

We drove to the City (that would be San Francisco) today to go see the Marc Chagall exhibit at the SFMOMA.

We had a friend of my daughter with us, and she had never been down the Twisty Bit of Lombard Street. That’s excuse enough for me. I am always into the Autocross aspect of City driving, and have actually had some training. I’d only been down that section of serpentine brick about 20 times. It’s beyond me why anyone would want to live there with the constant parade – perhaps they are all extras that are hired by the City.

Lo and behold, it’s Campaign Season … a 60ish male mammal in a Mercedes was driving ahead of us, waving a large political sign out of his sunroof …

… while playing John Philip Sousa’s “Semper Fidelis” at FULL volume

… while holding up a long line of cars that were waiting to go down the twisty bit

… while mugging for a random tourist and their DV cam.

Lost this vote :-) When we got to the bottom, I made a point of going any direction but his. Glad he didn’t show up at the SFMOMA …

… which is my segue to Chagall. I must say that I lean more towards the impressionists, the surrealists and cubists, and all sorts of “ists”. I draw the line at Jackson Pollock. I like representational art, or some good excuse if it isn’t.

Chagall doesn’t really grab me like, say Dali, Degas, or many others, but I enjoyed the exhibit quite a bit (and this is a big one). I think his best work involves someone floating, most often his wife, Bella. It was great to see “Midsummer Night’s Dream” in person (like cow heads? he sure liked painting them)

If you go, tag along with a member (avoid the line stretching down the block), or go mid-week (avoid the crowds). Peter Coyote does a great job on the audio tour, which is well worth the $5.

Oh boy. This being Labor Day Weekend, there are traditions that must be upheld …

Women on the East Coast wear white pants for the last time this year.

Barbeques throughout the land creak and groan under the weight of extra mesquite, as huge hordes gather round for mass ingestion of grilled goods. Yellowjackets throughout the land carry out well-honed picnic attack formations.

Frisbees spin. Lawns slipped and slided. Emergency rooms treat those who have simultaneously inhaled too much whipped cream and sunburned the bejeezus out of their year-round pastiness. Ok, I made that one up.

And it’s time for the Sausalito Art Festival!

I used to live in Sausalito, really close to the grounds. Festival weekend is always a party … one that you get to early in the day. Don’t dilly-dally in the City until 1, and then suddenly get the bright idea that you’ll mosey on over. Take the Ferry. Seriously. Sausalito can’t handle 1000′s of cars very well.

The SAF is the largest one in the country, and for good reason. There’s a lot of depth to it (and did I mention beer, wine, great food, and bands?) We discovered Jennifer O’Meara there (we have a six pane, which are all shots from a Nikon D1). George Summner is always there, making the journey from his studio a block away.

Oh, and there’s little bits of controversy:

Somewhere in the Festival, you’ll see photographers that have little postit notes proclaiming “no computers”, as if it were some sort of badge of honor. You’ll also see photos that are obviously manipulated (to good effect). I think photos that are improved by digital means are A-OK, because all that really matters is the response to the final work of art. (and if I didn’t say this, my Adobe Photoshop Certified Wife would come charging into my study and inflict great bodily harm) The debate rages on, but the Cranky Chemical Crowd will have to give way at some point. Painters came to accept photography, and the Toners & Fixers are going to have to accept the Digitizers.

The Festival will always be like that. At some point 10 years down the road, we’ll have some debate about the validity of virtual 3d environmental pieces (such as a walk-through of something inspired by Dali or Escher). I’m all for it, just so long as we don’t have some stupid Damien Hirst Cow Head rotting away in the Sun!