Involuntary Numbness

Involuntary Numbness

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There has been much controversy over many aspects of the former site of the World Trade Center since the heinous attacks in 2001. Some over the design of the new tower which was to be, and is now currently being erected on the sixteen acre site where many perished, including FDNY firefighters and Police Officers from Port Authority and my own NYPD. The current ongoing debate whether the remains of the unaccounted for victims being housed in the basement where the newly opened museum is located (next to the gift shop, I might add) is front page news. God bless the families of those lost.
I myself spent time on “the pile” and was subsequently assigned to be part of the Task Force investigating the biggest “crime” this country has ever seen during my time on The Job. A job that could somewhat numb you to emotions. For instance, just two months after September 11th there was a catastrophic airliner crash in Belle Harbor, Queens where all onboard and some on the ground were killed. We were rerouted to the crash scene not knowing if this was another terrorist attack. It was subsequently ruled a tragic accident. But at the scene, with the fires still burning and devastation on the ground I had run into a fellow detective that I had worked with years earlier and had not seen in quite a while. We hugged and chatted small talk for a minute or so when two men carrying a canvas body bag needed to get by in the path where we were standing. One of the officers carrying the bag said ,”Excuse us, guys”, so we both stepped aside continuing our small talk. Then it dawned on the two of us that they had just walked by carrying a poor soul lost on yet another tragic incident in this city and we still continued a lighthearted conversation without missing a beat. Maybe the numbness is what gets you through times like that.
I may be retired from that type of work but I still have strong feelings regarding those responsible for bringing ill-will to our shores but I mostly keep those feelings to myself, buried under the callouses of my soul.
As a way of perhaps healing these feelings deep inside I have decided to celebrate the new, the Phoenix which has risen out of the rubble. I know that those who have lost loved ones will never be able to accept the politics and unfairness of some decisions made on their behalf. I hope over time their pain is numbed.
Above is an unfinished rendering of one of series of four pictures I am creating of the Freedom Tower.
God Bless NYC and God Bless America.

One Spontaneous Bad Ass!

One Spontaneous Bad Ass!

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All geared up to see the David Bromberg Quintet in an often overlooked, yet truly wonderful venue, The Newton Theater in the outreaches of Sussex County, NJ. I’ve seen many shows there and was once privileged to exhibit my artwork in the lobby of the former Vaudeville theater. I have subsequently become friends with some of the staff and been afforded the opportunity to meet some of my music making idols, such as Bill Kreutzmann and Leo Kottke.
Going to see a show at “The Newt” is always special because my brother lives nearby and we get to have a nice dinner and more often than not burn a cigar prior to the show. Brother Chuck has always been my number one fan. He helped fund my first show and put together my first website. Although he won’t admit it he is also a talented artist, and with his frequent business trips worldwide he keeps a sketchbook of psychedelic renderings that would give flashbacks to anyone who has ever “crossed the line”.
Chuck is also quite handy. He fixes shit that he sometimes breaks while trying to fix, he cleared a walkway in the woods with a freakin’ chainsaw and hatchet, he has his own tractor, he’s just a manly man! With that in mind can you picture when we pulled up his long sloping driveway, there he was with THREE greasy wrenches in his hand in the process of replacing a pulley on his garage door opener, wearing a nicely pressed, freshly laundered pale blue button-down dress shirt. I mentioned that he had better be careful not to get any grease on his shirt. With that he, without loosing eye contact with me, placed his oily right hand to his left chest and wiped his dirty palm and five fingers down his chest leaving behind a stain that you probably couldn’t Shout out.
The name is Webster, and we claim to be distant relatives of Noah Webster, of Webster’s Dictionary fame. So if i may suggest that next to the word “badass” the above picture be inserted.

Reina, Vivian and me.

Reina, Vivian and me.

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I was in awe of a woman named Reina.  I had the good fortune of meeting Reina at a meeting of the West End Visual Artists Guild in Long Beach, NY.  She was a real stunner!  Her short grey hair and gorgeous face and her smooth ways.  She was probably old enough to be my mother but I had a secret (not anymore) crush on her.  Especially after talking to her about her days as an artist in the 1960’s  Greenwich Village.  I am intrigued by anything 1960’s and Greenwich Village.  I remember going there as a kid with my policeman Dad who for a time worked in the area.  When most of my childhood memories are in black & white, my memories of walking with my father down St. Mark’s Place in those days are in vivid color.  I wonder if one of those beautiful hippie chicks selling their artwork on the street back then was Reina?!  I’m going to say that YES it was.

Reina left us in 2011.  She had gallantly battled cancer more than once but finally lost in October of that year.  She is missed by many.  Before she died I acquired one of her works, which she told me was the “grooviest” piece from those days in the Village.  The picture is of a nude figure, embossed and accented with pencil and ink and titled, “Vivian Reclining On A Pillow”.  As she handed it to me she said it would bring me good luck.  It hangs lovingly in my bedroom.

Fast Forward to September 2012.  I enrolled in a drawing class at the Art Students League of New York.  My instructor is a wonderful gentleman and amazing painter and sculptor, Richard Barnet, son of the late Will Barnet. During all the numerous sketches and poses I had Reina’s “Vivian” on my mind.  I just had to honor her, both Reina and Vivian with a drawing of my own.  I improved week after week, but still managed to keep my own style not knowing if it was approved of in the eye of Mr. Barnet.  At my home studio I used Vivian’s pose and created my own “Vivian”,  and it WAS approved by Mr. Barnet because he chose it to be included in the Art Students League of New York 2014-2015 catalogue which goes worldwide.

Thank you Reina for your friendship and ongoing inspiration.

Bring It, potential Evil-Doers. Bring It!

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I just sat down to my drawing table, which was gifted to me by my parents on my 16th birthday in 1972,  to start on a new picture which has been haunting me for years.  Once again I just sat down so now I have to stare at the blank piece of 18 x 24″ drawing paper for a few hours before pencil ever touches it.  The picture, as of yet untitled, will be liked and understood by most men,  and not liked and possibly not understood by most women. You’ll know what I mean when it’s completed, some one hundred man hours from now.

In between the obligatory blank sheet stare I am also in the process of packing for a trip to Australia.  This includes throwing together the needed toiletries and sundries for three weeks in the southern hemisphere to which I’ve never been. It’s frigid here in New York and blazing hot in Victoria, I am told.  Preparations for the trip also include booby-trapping my house for any savage-like, drug crazed miscreants who may think that since the Big Man is away they can help themselves to whatever they may want or need. This is not the case. As soon as anyone unauthorized enters through any door or window they will be in for a big surprise.  Let me tell you what that surprise is.  On second thought, let’s just leave it as a SURPRISE!  Rest peacefully, young Skell.

I remember years ago reading about a store owner in Miami who after being the victim of numerous burglaries, booby-trapped his liquor store so that any perpetrator would get a 120 volt jolt if he “entered and remained unlawfully with the intent to commit a crime”. Sure enough, this mutant broke through the roof and ended up getting fried on a steel grate which was positioned in a strategic location by the frustrated victim shop owner.  P.S. Mr. Liquor Store Owner was indicted and found guilty of involuntary Manslaughter.  Shame, shame.

I’m willing to take that chance.

Hey Evil-Doers. BRING IT!