I recently asked a question on LinkedIn of a design related group,”Do you think you would be more successful financially if you had taken business courses in art school?”I ask this question because of the many forums on design where I read about the age old problem of young designers being underpaid,asking about how to get clients,should you do free work,why use a contract? etc.The thing that gets me is most design schools still don’t teach a basic business course to the many designers who crowd the hundreds of schools dreaming of financial success while looking down their noses at the painters,sculptors and other denizens of art school,because they are learning a “practical creative skill”.Thousands of design books have been published over the years and there are woefully few that cover the basics of being a successful professional designer.There are a great many books that talk about portfolios, style,color,type,production and software.Many case studies on how a design was created to solve a clients visual design problem.Just not enough telling you how they keep the light bill paid,budgeting,marketing,taxes,sales, customer relations and managing yourself or employees. In todays world it is amazing designers still believe as artists they can learn the business end on the run.I took business courses after I left school.It saved me from assuming my design work was all I needed to succeed in the commercial world of American design.A good basic business design course would justify the high cost of tuition that goes with learning to be a designer! Ask yourself how many of the people you graduated with are still in design.I bet talent wasn’t the reason they left the field.
The Original PC of theTypesettingWorld!
On a muggy late spring afternoon way back in 1976,I trooped along with the rest of the senior design co-op students on a trip to the St.Louis Post Dispatch newspapers compositing room to see “HOT” type being set manually with a Linotype machine.We laughed and joked about how messy and grimy the room was where at least a half dozen Lino machines sat, clanking and making a racket creating type slugs for the galleys of the next days paper.We were seeing the last of the dinosaurs up close, vibrating with heat and a jangling noise that made your teeth grind.
Each student had their name set by a grimy old man who looked liked he stepped out of a frame of the movie, The Front Page.He handed me the slug he typed of my name and it was still warm,the mix of lead and zinc hardened and I truly began my love of type at that moment.Kickstarter.com has a project to raise funds for the editing of a documentary about the first PC of the type world.Checkout the video and if you love type give’em at least a dollar!
“Linotype: The Film” Interview Excerpts from Linotype: The Film on Vimeo.
The Invisible Gorilla Woman
Observation and creating visual patterns to attract attention to messages is the designers job.Developing the strategies to do this helps us make the gorilla visible to audiences.Take a look at the video to see how a stated goal will preclude people from seeing the whole picture.http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2011/08/19/now-you-see-it-cathy-davidson/
Beyond the Ancient & the Year 2000
I find now I am more dependent on my computer.I’m freelancing and everything you need is on the web.Software,advice you name it,I sound like a newbie,but I can’t believe everything I learned in design school takes place on a computer.The whole design department in the brick and mortar school I attended would be a few megabytes of information on the web now.Ahh the wonders of technology.I have found a site for every aspect of design on the web.I have to laugh at how much time I used to spend running around
to do the projects I create now.Just the cost of the gas would be exorbitant.The client,the suppliers,the art store are all in my computer!
to do the projects I create now.Just the cost of the gas would be exorbitant.The client,the suppliers,the art store are all in my computer!
The one thing that isn’t there, is my mind.I still have to make the idea come to life.I still have to think a problem through and solve the visual puzzle.The thing I like about the web and it’s attendant software, is I can visualize a design almost as finished art.Finished art,sounds so antiquated as a term for completed designs.I miss the tactile sketching I use to do to develop my ideas.I still draw but not as many thumbnails as I used too.I miss doing that.I must go back to it because I have found better solutions when I sketch.
Designing on the software apps does bring out the visual cliches.I find I have to edit myself more when using software.The other thing I find I have to do is push beyond the early solutions to get to the answer to the visual problem.The software makes things look so good!
The other cool thing about the apps is you can get lost in FX.You can do things with images that would have blown the budget away back in the old school days.I have to allow myself that luxury of using FX and not thinking like I did in the old days that the production department won’t let me do this or that and I have to be conservative with color,type,screens and photos.
I sometimes wish I had been born later because the technology costs so much less and the end results are so much better than in ancient times.
Understanding People helps you understand Business!
Simon Senek talks about the relationships we all share as people.
Every customer,employee and corporation is made up 100% of people.
To succeed in business be who you are.People who share common beliefs
and values will attract one another allowing positive personal and
business transactions.
Curious Finance
On the CBS Evening News, the talking head said they predict the economy won’t rebound for another three years? I have lived long enough to see a number of dips and booms in the national economy.The 70’s were stagnant,the industrial belt was beginning to rust, yet jobs came back by the time I graduated from college in 1976.The dismantling of the industrial economy was slowly gathering speed.The Service economy was starting to sprout,digital innovationwas sending out seedlings on the air.The air was changing,getting better because manufacturers were being fined for polluting the skies.In 1980,I read the word innovation as headline copy for a full page ad and brochure I was designing.I had never seen the word used in that context. Innovation! It was a machine tool ad campaign, the innovation was a computer drove the lathe to create precision steel parts.Innovation, New Jobs,New Markets!
Is that the 4?
The other day I left my lady friends apartment in time to catch my bus home.My car’s still in the shop,I get off the bus.I decided I’d stop at the grocery store before my transfer bus arrived.I had about 20 minutes before it came.
So I go into the grocery and shop,get everything I need and still I have about10 minutes before my bus comes.It’s the first great day we’ve had without rain since Noah sailed! I lug my bags to the bus stop.I figure I’m on time, a guy is sitting with his shirt off at the bus stop.Hot day.Another lady walks up with a few bags and stands under the kiosk with me, in the shade.A little old lady walks up and I spot a bus coming up the street.She asks,”Can you see what bus that is?”
I step out from under the shade and like a sailor scanning the sea,I say it’s the 4.She’s dressed in a pink house dress, like she was at home.In a cigarette gravelly voice she say,”Thanks!”
I gather my stuff ready to ride.I make sure I have my transfer in my pocket, the bus pulls to the stop, it’s the 50!House dress gets on the bus.The guy with no shirt stands up and walks up the street, the other lady walks across the street to catch a bus going in the opposite direction.What the hell?!
Then I remembered the 50 does stop there and the 4 should be right behind it.I worked in this area before and used to catch the bus from time to time.I go back into the shade and sure enough the 4 is rolling right on time! I pick up my bags and step out into the hot sun. I wave at the bus driver and she waves back. I step into the street expecting her to pull over.She keeps going! Rolls by with a smile and cool dark shades.What the…I look up at the bus stop sign, it only has the 50 listed! I can see her slowing down and I have to run a block with bags, sweating like I’m in a sauna and my baggy cargo shorts about to fall down to my ankles!
Luckily, she waited for me, bus air conditioning never felt so good.
“They moved the stop, just so you know.”, she laughed.
“I see, thanks so much.” I say and plop down in a seat
exhausted.
FollowMe!@djsartdesign
Portfolio of my design work and a marketing ploy to increase followers on twitter,check it out!
Crowded House!
Today’s design marketplace offers a tremendous number of sites for the novice or professional designer to make money from global crowdsourcing projects. The traditional design community is up in arms over designers being exploited by these crowdsourcers.
They are gnashing their teeth over the meager design fees awarded to those who participate in these design melees where many designs enter, one is chosen,and the one gets paid. Truthfully, the fees are beyond cheap!
I’ve browsed a number of these sites and what impressed me is the number
of professional designers who participate. I’ve read bios, interviews and newsletters on theses sites.Most are pros! It seems they like slumming on these sites.
Is it the competition, or is it the creative drive which I believe good designers have in abundance, which induces them to do “spec” work? One designer I read about has a regular design position in a design studio. In his interview he says when he can’t sleep he enters his ideas for posted projects on what shall remain a nameless “crowdsourcing” site. They asked him why he bids on so many projects? His answer: he can be most creative on these projects
because he has nothing to lose!
In a “real world” project scenario, there are many variables that have nothing to do with the visual solutions he creates for clients. I’m sure many “day job” designers will agree with that summation. He says it’s good practice which ads to his skills on the real job.
I recently read about Adobe crowdsourcing a logo project on a regional basis.
The vitrol from professional designers outraged by this infidelity, is justified.The mere cost of Adobe products demands quid pro quo from Adobe to be loyal to designers whose very livelihoods, depend
on their products.
I think Google gets it right.They allow their engineers to devote 20% of their time at work on projects of their own.Innovative ideas develop from this “creative” approach to management. It seems, for creative designers,
winning the project and the pay aren’t important, the creativity is!
Salsa: Social Exercise!
I’m middle aged and like most Americans have some what of a sedentary life.Ahhh…. but I recently learned to
Salsa and I can say it is fun,sexy and builds up your stamina without weights,gym memberships or a step machine.
I happened to go to a Salsa event where I live with my brother on the off chance we might meet a few ladies.In order to do that
I joined in on learning how to Salsa and Meringue in a group lesson that was simple and easy to understand. Within minutes I
danced with a number of charming ladies who shared my wonder at our ability to dance and laugh together and we just met!
Thus was born my enthusiasm for Salsa. I was amazed I danced for hours and hardly noticed the time or
the amount of energy I expended twirling and stepping the night away.I knew I would be sore the next day
but it beat exercising by walking miles alone!
Try it! Try it as a new way to exercise and socialize and keep reading for more ideas and info on Salsa!
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Women Get Pissed At The Silliest Things!
I have a lady friend and we spend a lot of time together.
Thursday is our date night.We watch videos or go out to dinner or clubbing.Last nite we went clubbing.We had enjoyed the evening playing cards and reviewing the days events.Listen to this: she calls me at my office and says pick her up at her girlfriends house.Cool.She callsback and her friend is on the phone asking if I will bring them a sixpack and some cigs.They’ll reimburse me when I get there.Knowing how unreliable her friends are I decide I’ll get the money upfront when I pick her up.I really wasn’t in the mood to go to the store.But i took her friend to the store to make their purchase.Cool.
Then we went home, played cards and then we decided togo to a local bar.We get to the bar,it’s a cozy little neighborhood bar.The music was 70′s and 80′s R& B.
I get us drinks, we chat then we decide to play one of those computerized video games that are on the bar.It has card games, word games,match the photo games,etc.
We played a few word games,we like to solve puzzles.
We didn’t win I was watching the basketball game on the big screen tv to be honest.She chooses another game
we didn’t win.Then I chose a photo matching game with erotic content, hoping she gets the idea of what I want when we get home.She gets pissed off saying why would I choose that game with her present!I am amazed.This from a women who is very street savvy
and sees other people, we both do and know it.Yet she started acting like an old married women, insulted that I would look at nude women which was part of the game to match different sections
of pictures from memory.She says this was insulting to her as a woman!She threatened to leave me at the bar.Luckily a song we both liked came on I changed the subject we danced and had another drink and she seemed to forget about it.Everything was cool we had fun.In the morning the first thing out of her mouth was “I can’t believe you chose that erotic game to play, what were you thinking!”This after she had just boinked my brains to correctness.Whass up wit’ that?
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February 18, 2006 – 12:05pm
Are Pixels Better Than Paint
The Modern Museum of Art in New York has a new exhibit of the
animation work of Pixar Studios.Being old school, I like the old animation of “cartoons” from the 60′s,50′s and 40′s.I think I like them better because as an artist,I like to work from light to dark when I paint.Just a habit but with that in mind,all
computer generated work seems to work from dark to light.
There always seems to be a dark gloom with most images though they could be in broad daylight.Probably a personal quirk.
I do enjoy the Pixar productions,”Toy Story”,”Finding Nemo”
and the “Incredibles”.The computer has saved many an animator
from bursitis.Consider the thousands of renderings an artist had to do for a Disney movie like “Sleeping Beauty”.Still shot by still shot.Yet,there is something about these films and I am speaking primarily about the images, not the stories, that is not as satisfying as old school animation.I think sometimes
it’s the slickness of the imagery.Other times I think it is the lack of a distinctive drawing style with it’s imperfections
that makes watching computer based animation less satisfying.
A computer can generate the same image faithfully everytime.
I miss the permutations you saw with a cartoon character as he
evolved throught the years.Take a look at the 40′s Bugs Bunny and the 60′s Bugs.There is humanity in evolving an image,
a character.
Once the character is defined in pixels, it seems dead because all the permutations have been worked out ahead of time and the end result is what it is.As animation matures,especially in video games,there seems to be an ever increasing sophistication
with the imagery.Take a look at the new “King Kong”game.
It is very much like the movie imagery.Video games seem to be headed in a good direction as far as imagery goes, they still seem filled with gloom but they fuse photo and animated imagery very well.For all it’s crudeness,I find “SouthPark” very satisfying visually.The animation is very story driven, collage
like in execution but stimulating aesthetically.Maybe I just like bright colors?
I think Warner Bros. found the happy medium of story,character and setting with their cartoons from the fifties and sixties.The technology was not the star.The characters truly surpassed the production values.I believe the “Simpsons” are the last version of this type of animation and why they have had such a long run.
As our culture matures, the visual sophistication of each generation is growing.As time goes by we will have schools of
visual criticism as varied as there are of styles of music.
I look forward to that and hope animators start to work light to dark.
Between Floors
I write short stories and I want to share some of my stories with you the reader.
I’d like any feedback from you about my stories that I am serializing here.
It helps me write and edit.Enjoy my story: Between Floors
I had a small office set-up at the end of the hallway.We lived in the upstairs apartment of a two family town house.We got a decent rent from the landlords because we helped them rehab the upstairs apartment. We sanded, painted, stained and polyurethaned the upstairs apartment into liveability.
The office was on the landing with a window overlooking the front door walk-up. A couple of trees rose up from the curbside to give me a little privacy from passersby. It was a tiny office with just enough room for a designer’s table, chair and two drawer file cabinet. Just enough room for you to squeeze around the corner and up the steps to our bedroom on the third floor.
Late at night the flexible artist lamp was the only illumination in the house, the jazz station playing low the only sound.
Sometimes I’d get a creepy feeling someone was standing in the hall behind me. I’d turn around in my chair. All I’d see was an empty hall, into the dining room where moonlight fell on the dining room table and the giant “Swiss” design calendar, with horizontal monthly pages as big as a wall poster. The Helvetica type numerals declaring emphatically the days of the year and just a sliver of the kitchen through the next doorway.
Sometimes, I’d be working on a paste-up or project and I’d swear someone was standing behind me; usually, it would be a draft from the stairway, or the old house settling, easing out relaxing house noises.
My little girls’ bedroom was off the living room, just five quick steps, a left through the living room door and a quick right into her room. She was old enough (2yrs. Old) to climb out of her baby bed and after 9pm she slept soundly until the morning. It was rare for her to climb out of bed now to race through the hallway and up to our bed for comfort.
She was happy having her own space, HER ROOM, every toy in it’s proper place.
Besides, I’d hear her release the bedrail, the way we taught her…to climb safely down to use the bathroom or visit us in bed.
Sometimes it was a strong feeling, a certainty, someone was just outside the doorway of the landing, observing my work.
I had a full time position as a “Corporate” designer with a major downtown retailer.I needed freelance work to cover expenses while my wife finished her degree.
Sometimes on the weekend, late in the afternoon, my daughter would sneak-up on me and I’d act like she scared me. I’d grab her up and tickle her and let her draw on my tracing pad till it was time for dinner.Then other times I’d turn around quickly, trying to surprise her before she “scared” me
…no one there…
On hot summer evenings, I’d leave the downstairs door open with the screen door locked to facilitate a breeze.My wife would turn off the TV in the living room, walk up behind me,place her hands on my shoulders and kiss me on the cheek on her way up to bed.
“Don’t stay up all night, why don’t you watch the rest of ‘Carson with me?”
“I’ll be up in a minute.” I’d say, as she padded barefoot up the carpeted stairs.
I’d go down and lock the big door, run up the stairs two at a time, turn down the hall through to my office, turn off the lamp, then two-at-a-time up to bed. One night I was racing off to bed when I just reached my office landing. I felt a sudden chill, like opening a freezer door, then quickly closing it.
I began to ignore the feelings or maybe I was concentrating on my work or just worried about other things. I put those creepy feelings aside until one night…
I was adjusting some type with a T-square and triangle, when I heard wet feet slapping on the hardwood floor behind me, it had to be Addy.But,why was she traipsing water on the floor?
I turned to reprimand her, she stood behind me naked as the day she was born, arms akimbo. Glaring at me. Her beautiful brown eyes seemed on fire.
“You left me!”, she shouted.
I could see my wife coming from the bathroom down the hall with a towel trailing her.
“Wha…what did you say?” I asked. She demanded again, “Why did you leave me?!”
If my eyes were shut, I could have sworn it was a full grown woman speaking to me with such anger. She was only two.
My wife caught her up in the towel on her arms and asked,”Addy, what got into you, why’d you jump out of the tub!?”
“Did you hear what she just said?,” I asked my wife astonished.
“What did you say to Daddy?”, my wife giggled and tickled her. Addy, laughed and cuddled with my wife like a two year old. The fire in her eyes was replaced with simple joy. I looked at my wife, at Addy , they both seemed oblvious to anything other than their nightly bath routine.
“I guess I misunderstood her.”, I said bewildered.
“Well it couldn’t have been that bad.”, she said drying Addy’s thick hair.
“No…I guess not.”, I said.
“You’re just tired…why don’t you let some of those outside jobs go?”
“You know we need every dollar.?”, I said.
“Well dinner ‘ll be ready in a few minutes, come on Addy and get into your pj’s.”
She bundled Addy off to her room.
I know what I heard.Something wasn’t right.
(to be continued)
Between Floors
Between Floors (continued)
Carson’s monologue was on the portable TV at the foot of our bed, I undressed, my wife scooted over as I got in.We cuddled and I asked,” Did Addy ever accuse you of leaving her? I know she
Gets upset about going to the sitter sometimes?”
“Uh-uh.”, she said watching Carson offhandedly.
“I haven’t taken her to the sitter in awhile,…I wonder why she accused me of leaving her?”
“Leaving her?”
“That’s what she accused me of when she snuck up behind me.”
A commercial was on.
“I don’t know what got into her, I was washing her hair and she bolted out of the tub like she had something important to do. Funny thing is she seemed stronger. Just pulled out of my hands,
climbed over the tub and ran like greased lightn’ to you…I thought she was mad at me for getting soap in her eyes.”
“She sure had sumpthin’ to say.”, I said.
“She had this defiant angry look on her face and said I left her! Like some hurt old woman.”
Carson had his swami hat on.
“She probably had a bad dream from her nap time today is all.”
My wife scooched down under the covers.
“Kinda scared me.”, I said hugging her tighter.
“It was probably just a dream…”, she sighed sleepily.
A commercial for ALIEN with Sigourney Weaver was on.
I like science fiction; I thought maybe we’d go see it
.
Moonlight filled the room. The TV was all snow. I turned it off.
Addy’s monitor hummed, I could hear her soft breathing down in her bedroom.
I pulled the covers up and went to sleep.
I stood on the bus coming home from work all the way from downtown. I squeezed past a fat lady in her “Corporate” suit, complete with running shoes and Wall Street Journal when the bus reached my stop. I enjoyed walking from the corner to our house, especially on Friday evenings. The setting sun gave our house a warm glow, the trees blazed, the suffused light casting interesting patterns on the house and sidewalk.
Regina our landlord, was just opening her door, her keys jangling,as she worked them in
the deadbolt lock as I walked up.
“Hey Don!”, she called brightly. The power of positive thinking was her strong suit.Regina smiled
her way through good or bad times, a thoroughly modern blackwoman.
“Let me help you with those.”, I said bounding up the stoop to her entrance. She had packages under one arm and a couple of shopping bags at her feet. She had on some serious high heels.
She could dress for a newspaper reporter.
“So how’s the apartment?”, she asked cheerily.
We stepped into the cool quiet of her foyer.
“We love it. I like it better each day. I think all our efforts paid off.”
“Whoooo…” she dropped her bags and landed ladylike on the sofa. I stood as she unselfconsciously pulled off one high heel, and began to knead her foot energetically.
Oh I just remembered,we have an extra air conditioner for the third floor if you want it, the nails of her stockinged foot were red and neatly trimmed.
“What…oh…. yeah we can use it.”
“I’ll tell Juney to bring it up when he gets in.”
“Here, where do you want these.?”
“Drop them on the chair.” She said,taking off her other shoe.
She sat both of her shoes to the side; they sat there on display. I felt embarrassed for some reason.
“Well, I gotta go.”, I turned to go.
“Hey, how’s that bundle of energy doing?”, she called at my back.
“Addy’s great.”
“She’s always got something to say, hunh Don?”
“Yes she does.”, I smiled blushing.” I gotta go, see y’later.”
I shut the door. My feet crushed something grainy as I went down the steps and turned up to my door. I could hear Addy and my wife from the stairwell as I came up. They were playing some sort of counting game.
“One, two, buckle my shoe, three, four shut the door…”
“There’s Daddy!”, my wife said in a singsong voice.
“Daddddy!”,Addy jumped up and tackled my shins in a bear hug as I walked into the living room.
I dropped my Lands End brief case on the sofa and cradled Addy in my arms.My wife gave me a kiss.”You ready to eat dinner?”
“Always. I only grabbed a bagel and a coke for lunch.I barely had time to finish it.The annual report has so many last minute changes, I was lucky to get that.”
I sat Addy in her high chair; director chairs were a bit awkward for her eating style.
“I made pork chops with wild rice and a salad, I also got us a couple of beers.”, she said from the kitchen.” That’s why I love you.”, I said.
I took off my tie and draped it over the empty director’s chair to my right. I turned to play with Addy.She had that impatient look on her face.
“You like her shoes don’t you?”, she demanded in a soft inquisitive voice.
“Shoes?”, I asked.
“Why yes I do, I like Mommy’s’ running shoes.”, I said tickling her.She laughed , breaking the impatient look from her face.I’d had a bit of a problem paying 80 bucks for a pair of sneakers.
“Don’t start on the shoes. I think they’re well made and worth the money.”, my wife said sitting
Addy’s plate on her high chair.She headed back to the kitchen for our meals.
“Eat your meat too.” , I said. Addy laughed.
I felt suddenly uneasy. Was it the running shoes or the high heels she questioned me about?
(to be continued)
Between Floors
Between Floors (continued)
On Friday nights, I played cards downstairs with Juney and a coupla’ mutual friends.We’d play poker or spades depending on who could afford to play. Juney was Regina’s old man.
He’d lent her some money to help her buy the brownstone, and if they were getting along, he’d spend a week or two with her.
I knew him from the old neighborhood. His family owned a string of funeral parlors. I was surprised when Regina introduced him to us when my wife and I were apartment hunting.
My wife met Regina through her journalism class.Regina was from the Midwest and
A newspaper reporter.
While we played cards, she’d knit in front of the TV. She was happy to get us beer and snacks.
She could keep an eye on Juney and relax.
“Regina, told me you have an old air conditioner we can use up on the third floor.” I said
to Juney. He shuffled the cards with an expert hand.
“Oh, yeah. If you want I can get it out of the basement.”
“Nah, I can get it in the mornin’.”
He puffed on his cigerette. Murph, Julian’s buddy, sipped his beer watching the deal.
“Did you do any good on your last trip to Vegas?, he asked.
“I made a little, lost a little.” Juney smiled.
He considered himself a sportsman, played the horses, bet on most sports and went to Vegas a few times a year.He always said tending the dead was rather boring. His hands were manicured and befit a piano player.
Reggie’s hands, he managed Julian’s’ fleet of hearses, never seemed to be clean. He had a certain smell that followed him, though he looked like he just washed recently.He was eating peanuts from a bowl, shaking them up like dice and throwing them down his throat.
We sat in the alcove of the dining room.It had just enough room for the table and us.We could hear the occasional car or foot traffic from the street through the semicircle of tall curtained windows.
Regina hated smoking but she’d rather have Juney home smoking than the alternative.
You could hear the crickets chirping, a slight breeze stirred the blue haze of smoke over the table.
“Say, man how’s that fine wife of yours?” Reggie grinned.
“You got a grease smudge on your cheek, and she’s doin’ fine.”, I said. He wiped peanut grit
on his cheek.
“S’gone?”, he asked.
“Yeah, man.” Murph snickered.
“Aw Reg, don’t get crumbs all over the cards.” Julian tossed him a napkin. I sipped my beer,
wondering what I could do with a pair of black aces, jack, king and ten of hearts.
“I’ma wash my hands.” Reggie raised up to go to the bathroom and hit his thick head on the
adjustable dining room lamp that began to swing wildly. Juney raised his arm and steadied the
lamp with his hand, studying his cards with a thoughtful look. Murph and I had to laugh.
From where I sat, I could see through the darkened dining room to the living room doorway.
I could see Regina rising to go to the front door.She opened the door. There was a girl standing
In the doorway.The sconce lamplight cast a radiance like fire onto the girls auburn tinted hair.
She was light like Juney.
It had to be 70 or 80 degrees outside, but I could see as she stepped into the living room, she had
On a Navy pea coat, buttoned with the collar up. She had a brown paper bag in her hand and
A big purse over her right shoulder. They were talking but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
She entered, Regina shut the door behind them.Her brow was as dry as the desert.I’d have been sweatin’ buckets in this heat. All that lovely hair and not a drop of perspiration. She looked cold.
Regina led her to the sofa. She didn’t take her coat off. I could see the backs of their heads above
The sofa. She sat very still, like a doll. Regina got up and came to the alcove.
She smiled at us and bent over to whisper something in Juney’s ear. Juney stood up, layed his cards face down on the table and went with Regina into the living room.
Reg sat down wiping his still wet hands on his thighs.”Alright thas betta.”
I watched Juney standing over the girl on the sofa. He had a sad but serious look on his face.
He was speaking to her in a low voice but urgently.Regina sat next to the girl looking concerned.
Her head never moved, like they were talking to a mannequin.
Murph followed my gaze into the living room.
“Who’s that?” , he asked sipping his beer.
“I don’t know….”, I answered.
Reg grabbed a hand full of peanuts.
“All that hair, thas prolly Juney’s sista.” , Reg said shaking nuts like he was about to roll seven.
“Reg, tell me somethin’, why does she have on a winter coat and it’s hot as hell outside?”
I asked.” I think she inhaled too much formaldehyde.” He chuckled.
“That girl is strange, she the nutty one of the family.” He shook up another handful of peanuts.
Murph lit a cigerette, he inhaled deeply and exhaled a blue plume of smoke toward the ceiling.
“Don’t tell Juney ,” he said leaning towards us,” I took her out one time as a favor to their
mother. She wanted her to have a little fun, you know, get her outta the house for
a while…anyway, we go out,… a movie dinner or somethin’. I take her back to my crib
and she was good company, you know. We talked, laughed and listened to some sounds.
So we getting’ into somethin’, she says wait a minute let me go to the bathroom. I’m sittin’
On the sofa and I feel like someone’s standin’ behind me. I turn around and and she’s
Standin’ there with a damn steak knife in her hand!”
“What’d you do?”, I asked uneasily.
Reg was chewing peanuts furiously.
“I jumped over the cocktail table. I said bitch are you crazy and she dropped the knife, started
crying, said she wanted to go home and I took her directly!”
From the corner of my eye I could see Juney and Regina standing at the door, his sister standing
On the landing looking at them through the screen door just like when Regina answered it the
First time.She stood like a robot staring at them as they closed the door.
“Hush up, here come Juney.” , Reg said, lowering his eyes to the peanut bowl.
(to be continued)
Between Floors
We looked at our cards as Juney sat down.
“Damn!”, Juney said disgustedly, looking at his cards.
Murph asked, “What’d she do now?”
“I can’t believe her.” Juney shook his head in amazement.
“She walked all the way from from home with at least thirty thousand
worth of jewelry we use for funerals and some of my mothers’ things, in a damn greasy bag of French fries.”
We all looked at each other then at Juney.
“Murph you got a cigerette?” Murph tossed him the pack.
“Why didn’t you run her home?” , Murph asked.
Reg was tossing back peanuts.
” I offered to ride her home, then she looked like she was going to lose it. She promised she’d walk back home and put the stuff back if I don’t tell, Mother. I’m going to call Mother in a while to make sure she got home.”
I thought to myself the undertaking business is weirder than I ‘d imagined. Hell she could get mugged between here and home, but who would expect jewelry in a greasy bag of fries?
“Reg, get me a beer wouldja” Juney went back to studying his cards.
Murph sucked air through his teeth and made a sound like,”mmph, mmmmph,mmmmmph.”
I said my goodnights and went home a little after midnight. I left Murph and Juney sippin’ beers and counting their winnings. Reg left earlier after the peanuts ran out. The summer air seemed to have a little chill in it. I let myself in and walked softly up the stairs. The house was quiet.
I could hear the digital clock in the kitchen flipping time. I went to the kitchen for a glass of water.
The moon was full and climbing in the sky as I looked out the window over the sink.
Time flipped noisily on the “digital”, as I stood watching the moon climb over the dark city.
Juney called his Mother, his sister made it home, he spoke to his sister and she said she put the jewelry back. Why would anybody carry around valuables in a greasy bag? I guess Murph was right, she was a little off. The cliché” tragic mulatto” went through my mind.
I finished my water, rinsed the glass and set it in the dish rack. I turned to go upstairs to bed.
“Addy!” I loudly whispered, “What are you doing out of bed?”
I rushed over to the kitchen doorway and scooped her up in my arms.
“It’s really late what’re you doing out of bed?” , I asked her softly.
She had that look on her face. Defiant and demanding.
“You could have taken me home! I walked all those blocks by myself.”
She said it.SHE said it. I held her close and sat down heavily in a kitchen chair.
I sat her on the table, we were eye to eye.
“Say what you just said again.” , I demanded.
She stared into my eyes, she blinked first and seemed to swoon, falling forward into my arms.
I held her, then looked into her face.
“Daddy, can I have a glass of water?”, she asked sleepily.
It’ okay now I thought, this is Addy, my Addy, my baby, my little girl. I felt goose bumps
On my arms.
“Of course Addy, where’s your water cup?” I hugged her to me.
“It’s in the cab’ net,” she said, pointing to the cabinet above the sink. I rose on unsteady legs.
“How long have you been up?” I asked. I examined her face carefully. She was herself my little girl, the defiant someone had disappeared.
“Dunno.” She said.
I carried her down the hall to her bedroom, after she drank her water. I tucked her in bed, covered her with her favorite blanket. I was wide awake and hummed her a lullaby till she fell asleep. I felt better Addy was sleeping comfortably, under her Winnie the Pooh blanket.
What the hell was happening?
I went over the evening in my mind, I thought about the strange events over the past few months.
I could hear the TV, as I trudged up the stairs, Carson was going off, the band playing underneath a promo for an upcoming show.
“What was Addy doing outta bed this time of night?”, my wife turned back the cover for me
to get in bed.”I think she had a nightmare or something.” , I said.
I undressed and sat on the bed. “You woke me up when you were singing her to sleep.” She yawned. “Didn’t you hear her on the monitor?”
“I must have drifted off when I heard you come in.” She said groggily.
An Alka-Seltzer commercial was playing.
“Say, baby have you ever met Juney’s sister?”
I rubbed my feet,kneading the ache away. I shook her shoulder gently.
“Hey, you ever meet Juney’s sister.” I asked nudging her softly.
“Yeah,…I think Regina introduced us one day, she’s a pretty girl…where’d you meet her?”
She said looking over her shoulder with one eye open.
I continued rubbing my feet.
“Tonite was the first time I ever laid eyes on her. I didn’t really meet her, she uh…stopped by to visit Regina while we were playing cards.”
“She dresses well, but you’d expect that with her family’s business.” She said pulling the thin bed spread over her shoulders going back to sleep.
(to be continued)
Between Floors
“She’s kinda strange .” “You’d expect that too with her family’s business and all.” She said sleepily. I laughed a little. The monitor picked up the sound of Addy moving in her bed. Then nothing. Just dead air like the pause of a bad disc jockey with no sense of timing. I lay back in bed watching the beginning of the”Invasion of the Body Snatchers” the last Late night movie.My wife snored softly. I fell asleep and dreamed I was back in high school working at McDonalds and Juney’s sister came in on a hot summer day to buy a big bag of fries…she paid with a large ruby ring. I didn’t mention Addy’s behavior to my wife. I was watchful of her. Maybe it was just my imagination or the workload I was under. In all respects, she was just a little girl, precocious but my little girl. The following weekend the weather grew hotter and I called down to Regina’s to remind her we needed the air-conditioner. She said Juney was coming over later that Saturday afternoon and She’d call when he arrived. She thought it would be a two man job to bring it up from the basement.
On Saturdays we always went to the market in our neighborhood just a block from The house. We all had new running shoes. Addy thought hers were very cool and avoided any puddles while we shopped. She refused to let me carry her and actually wanted to carry some of what we bought. I let her carry a bag of grapes. “You won’t get tired of luggin’ those grapes will you?” “Nooo.” She said with a determined look on her face. My wife held her hand as we moved through the stalls. I had my camera with me. I liked to take shots in the city. We went inside to the covered market.The market was built before The Civil War. The produce vendors had their stalls lining the street on either side of a 19th century Building that housed the butchers, bakers, fish and dairy vendors. Some families had owned their Booths inside the ornate structure for over a 100 years. White enameled, steel and glass meat cases Lined both sides of a single wide aisle from one entrance to the other. On Saturdays, the shoppers milled thickly through the street long building. There was always a great face or scene to capture on film. My wife handed me our shopping bags of produce and hefted Addy on her hip and headed off to Purchase our meats. I lugged the bags and found a spot by a pillar in the center of the aisle, I looked through the view finder, panning around the market looking for an interesting face.
I used the telephoto lens to zoom in on the haggling shoppers. I zoomed in on a lady in a peacoat, She had on a knit hat…I focused, it was Juney’s sister. She smiled at a shopkeeper, he handed her a wrapped white package.She handed him her money …she turned looking right at me, headed toward me. I scanned the throng looking for my wife and Addy. Anxiety rose in me, I had a sudden fear of Addy being near her. I began to move through the shoppers.There they are! I gripped the bags and made toward Addy and my wife. Juney’s sister was making slow headway in their direction. I squeezed through and around people getting cursed for my effort. I reached the fish sellers counter ahead of her. My wife was taking a white package of fish fillets from the vendor, Addy was riding my wife’s hip,, while some old lady was cooing at her…”Oooh, look at the pretty baby,” causing her to laugh. I looked out into the crowd, trying to spot her. I didn’t see her even though she had on that hot ass peacoat. I reached my wife,”All done?” I asked. “Yeah,” She said,” let’s go over to the deli stand to get some lunch meat.” We started to head over there. “Hello, aren’t you Juney’s friend?” I dropped the shopping bags. Her eyes were mesmerizing, they blazed with a brown-orange fire, Her smile was beguiling and dazzling. My wife gave me a look like who is this bitch? Addy seemed to be asleep on my wifes shoulder. “Oh , this must be your wife and daughter.Hello,” she said. Images of the sea, a vast ocean, dark and angry filled my head. “Don, who’s this?” My wife elbowed me. “Uh, uhmm, this is, uh, Juney’s sister,” I said feeling like I was a long way from where we stood. “Hi, I’m Gwen,” my wife shifted Addy and extended her hand, with a confident smile. “I’m Amerie, Juney’s youngest sister. I met your husband the other night at my brother’s. Ooh, your little girl seems to be asleep.” Her eyes blazed. I put my arm around my family. “Oh that’s Addy,” Gwen said protectively. I looked at the greasy bag sitting on top of the purchases in her shopping bag. A line of pearls snaked from the mouth of the bag. I recovered,”Yes, Amerie, I didn’t catch your name last night…I’m Don and this is Gwen and Addy.” I felt dazed. “Aren’t you hot in that coat and hat?”, my wife asked aggressively, letting her hand drop to her side. Her face darkened and her smile went down a few watts. Her jeans were tight and soiled, she gripped her shopping bag tightly. “I’m not hot,” she said,”I’m cold all the time, the weather doesn’t matter.” There wasn’t a bead of sweat on her forehead. “We’ve met before,” my wife said evenly,” Regina introduced us a while back. It’s been good to see you again, we have to finish shopping. C’mon Don.” My wife grabbed my arm and headed into the crowd. I felt drained. I looked over my shoulder, she stood rooted to the spot. She looked back at me with her eyes and smile on high beam. I started to jump on my wife for being rude, but I felt relieved to get away from her, a feeling that grew with every step. “Don, there is something wrong with her, she is seriously fucked up!,” my wife said, stretching to put something into the kitchen cabinet. A fly buzzed lazily over the sink, birds were chirping outside I sat the shopping bags on the butcher block table and sat down heavily on a kitchen chair. I was exhausted. Addy was playing in her room. “What’s the matter with you?,” my wife called over her shoulder. “Nothing,” I said. “I think it’s just the heat.” “Can you believe she had on a winter coat in this weather? I’m telling you, Don, she’s been sipping the embalming fluid. Hand me that bag and I’ll make lunch.” I handed her the bag with the bread and lunch meat, it seemed to take a real effort. It had to be the heat. “Don, you okay? Go watch TV. I’ll call you when lunch is ready.” She looked concerned. “Yeah, I think I will.” I went into the living room. Addy was playing with her dolls I could hear her. I turned on the TV And dropped like a rock onto the sofa. I stretched out on the sofa, a ball game was on.
(to be continued)
Between Floors
I walked toward the women at the end of the pier, She stood facing out to sea. The wind shifted and mist floated away to reveal a full moon. I reached her and some force kept me from speaking to her. I stood next to her, in her arms she held a framed picture. Tears fell down her cheeks. Her hair was auburn, she was fair skinned .She looked as if she had lost everything. She took the picture from her breast and I looked in horror. I t was a picture of a 19th century sailor, a picture of me! She turned and walked up the pier through the mist. I couldn’t follow. I stood looking out to sea. I saw the lights of a ship far out in the water, lights twinkling in the mist.
I awoke with a hangover. Gwen and I spent the day reading the Sunday paper, eating a big breakfast and being lazy.
I took the dream as just a result of my active imagination. I never mentioned it to Gwen.
Things seemed to settle down for a while. Addy was normal and energetic, work was going well,
And Gwen seemed even happier with me than usual. I’d see Amerie from time to time coming and going from Regina’s. Fall and winter came and went. I saw Amerie one night as I was sneaking Christmas gifts from the trunk of our car to put under the tree while Addy slept. She stood on the sidewalk waiting for Julian and Regina. She was dressed to kill. I timidly said hello to her.
She smiled a beautiful smile. Her eyes twinkled happily. She said hello.
“You’re uh, let me see…Oh you’re Juney’s tenant, right.”
“Yes, that’s right. How have you been?” I asked. There was no hint of the lady of the peacoat.
It started to snow. “I’m doing well, Look it’s snowing!”
Juney and Regina stepped out onto the landing, he was in black tie and an overcoat, Regina was dressed elegantly. Amerie , tilted her head back and caught snowflakes on her tongue.
Regina locked their door. “Hey, Don you better get inside before you catch cold,” Juney said.
“Hi, Don , have a merry Christmas,” Regina said descending the steps.
A limousine pulled up, Reggie was at the wheel. He beeped the horn and waved at me.
“Have a good time and a merry Christmas,” I said.
Juney opened the door of the limo, “Come on we better get going.”
Regina got in, Amerie started to get in, then came back to where I stood with my arms full of packages. She kissed me on the cheek and said,” Have a merry Christmas.”
“You too,” I said, amazed. Juney looked at me and smirked, Amerie got in along with Juney and they sped off. Life is sometimes beautiful and strange.
I took the gifts upstairs. I could smell her perfume. Gwen was putting things under the tree.
I sat the gifts on the sofa and sat down. I felt like I was drugged.
“Don what’s the matter?”
“Hunh?”
“I said what’s the matter? Ooh, it’s snowing outside.”
“Uh yeah, I know. I ‘m alright,” I said.
“Well let’s get everything under the tree before Addy wakes up,” she said smiling.
I didn’t know what to make of that night, or what I should think about Amerie.
The next time I saw Amerie , the cherry blossoms bloomed on the trees in front of our house.
I let Addy ride her new tricycle up and down the sidewalk instead of zooming around the
Apartment. We were coming down the street, I saw a taxi coming up the street. I raced to catch Addy. I caught her just as the taxi pulled to the curb in front of our house.
“Hey don’t ride so fast,” I said catching up to her. I looked up to see Amerie getting out of the cab.
She wore a striped sweater and those tight dirty jeans. Her hair looked oily, dirty. She had dark circles under her eyes, she put on some shades she pulled from her purse.
“Hi!” Addy said. She ignored Addy.
“Hi, Amerie how you doin’,” I asked.
She ignored me and went up the steps to Regina’s.
Addy turned her trike around to head back up the street. I followed her, walking slowly. I turned to see Amerie entering Regina’s. I had a momentary feeling of dread.
The sun was shining brightly the feeling passed and I trotted after Addy.
(to be continued)
Between Floors
I went to lunch one afternoon with an exec from work. He was a brother who happened to be from New Orleans. We sat at a table that fronted the sidewalk . We could people watch as we ate.
He said he’d heard through mutual friends about our luck with finding a brownstone apartment. I told him about all the work we put into getting the place livable. A strange idea pop into my mind, I asked him if there were black sailors in the 1800’s who sailed on ships bound from New Orleans. Of course he answered, there had been a few in his family. I felt mixed emotions, it confirmed the dream for me, but what did it mean? Reincarnation is just a concept. I never felt to be true. I invited him to dinner in the near future so he could see all the work we had done. He was interested in rehabbing property near where we lived.
Gwen finished her classes and went looking for a new job. I found more freelance work.
Things started to get busy for both of us. We planned a dinner party to show off our home to a few friends. The weather was growing warmer. I worked late into the night on my projects.
One night I heard arguing , loud muffled voices, downstairs. I heard Regina’s front door slam and I saw Juney get into his car and drive off. I figured Regina was playing him a little close wanting more than what Juney was delivering. The phone rang upstairs in our bedroom.
It was a safe bet Gwen and Regina were deciding Juney’s fate.
I smiled and worked on into the night.
A dish or glass slipped in the kitchen sink I heard it break. I went to investigate. I threw the broken pieces into the trash. I looked at the dish strainer it was crowded with clean dishes, one just slipped from the rack. No big deal. I looked at the digital it was very late. I headed off to bed. I got a few feet from my office and the cold air there sent chills up my spine. I quickly went up the steps to bed. I began a new project at work, it required me to work a few hours over for a week or two.
The weather was growing warmer. There were a few diners and coffee shops near my building and I’d took a break to get a bite to eat.
I was reading a newspaper finishing up a sandwich, when Amerie came in and sat at the counter beside me. ” I hear the food in here is pretty good,” she said with a smile. I looked her over and decided she must be feeling well. Her hair was full and clean, she dressed as if she had come from work. It is I said evenly.”It’s kind of early, I usually eat later.” She glanced over the counter menu quickly. “I saw you a few weeks ago you got out of a cab at Regina’s.”
“Oh, I didn’t see you.”
I thought you nearly walked over Addy.
“I said hello, you walked right past me and Addy.”
She toyed with a knife in the setting on the counter.
She waved her hand dismissing my statement. “I had something on my mind.”
I felt a need to go. “You aren’t about to leave are you?”
A sense of exasperation came over me. “I’m not leaving you.”
I surprised myself, why did I say those words?
(to be continued)
I’m A Grandfather!
I recently received an email picture from my daughter of my grandson, he’s my boy’s new child.I had to reflect on how I was seeing my grandson for the first time, through an email with an image taken by a cell phone.I remember when my son was born.I called everyone from a landline Ma Bell phone.
It was the quickest way to announce his arrival.
Today there are many means of communicating, the email I received just reminded me how modern it is as a means of linking us together.
From my computer I can post images of my grandson on my site or even create a T-shirt with his image and have it shipped to all of our family around the country from the comfort of my office.
I had to smile at the ingenuity of our shared technology.Something inherently amazing when you think about it.I was happy to see my grandson Azaarian!
It is a new day for us all,yet the technology already seems dated?
Basquiat/Art In aWide Angle Lense
I wish the “Art Establishment” had a wide angle lens that
showed the scope of African American and of other artists of merit and ability.It seems the “City” determines the cultural success of an artist,black or otherwise, based not
so much on the artist’s ability but the artist’s proximity to the media machine and the celebrity potential of the artist.I happened to see a book about John Michael Basquiat.
He led a public,glitzy self destructive life in proximity to the 80′s artworld celebrities.As far as I can see he was
a talent that only New York could spawn.JMB was good and readily captured the good/evil complexity of his times.
He chronicled the rise of Hip Hop,drugs,race and the
weirdness of existence toward the end of the 20th century.
I applaud his talent.Yet I can’t help but feel he was
not as good as the Hype machine that interpreted his vision to the uptown galleries.The thing that bothered me
about the books glorification of him was their lack of consideration of other working and professional African American artists at that time who had work comparable in concept and execution to his.These others were footnotes to JMB’s abilities.They were being ignored by “High Art”.
Unfortunately, JMB was a victim of his times.His legend reads like an annual report put together by a Wall Street
Broker who knows the actual bottom line is running red ink.But the “upside potential” is the money maker.
His work made a killing but he became a legend, lived fast and died young.The American Way.A broader vision in the cultural world might be a good thing.
