This is a rescue
This is a day that marks the first of many treatments my only beloved sister will be undergoing for the next eight months. Unimaginably hard to say, my sister has ovarian cancer. Her name is Victoria.
Her name was Victoria.
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Put this at the front of your Netflix cue: “Chris and Don, A love Story”
I had a passing familiarity with the artist Don Bachardy and years back I recall keeping a copy of Christopher Isherwood’s diary next to the commode. Then I stumbled upon a little drop of unexpected honey via the new and improved Huntington Library. To their credit they put on a delicous and stunning show of Don Bachardy’s portraits. A sad truth is we often know art through it’s reproductions. Once we witness the “real deal” sometimes a dreaded sense of disappointment can seep in. The work of Bachardy is the opposite. Gaudy in print, in person the labor, layers of pigment, color choices, line work, media and skill will amaze.
Now having made such a declaration, how about some images? Crystal Martin 2002 and Rori Cronin Scheneider 2002
About the movie “Chris and Don: A Love Story” It portrays the absolute sweetness of a decades long winter/spring relationship between the two. Then there’s the added bonus of two people who documented their experience with the greats of the 20th century in home movies. Check out Tennesse Williams in a bathing suit sucking in his gut for the camera. Catch a quick glimpse of my favorite cinematographer James Wong Howe or Aldous Huxley, Igor Stravinsky… they knew them all and some of it’s in glorious Techna-color. Interesting? then I suggest you read the link
Los Angeles Artist Lisa Adams sat for Don Bachardy back in July of 2010. Read about her experience here at the Huffington post
Sometimes trash finds you when you wish it wouldn’t. In this case “trash” is a cat named “Peoples” Harsh you say? Well, yes and no. There’s a family living down the street that we discretly refer to as “generational welfare recipients.” Same situation applies to their cats. Problem is once the kittens leave the curb, they’re on their own. Sadly, the results are predictable: (A) they get run over (B.) they turn feral lasting a few years before a coyote gets them or (C.) select a home occupied by a couple of elderly female cats and immediately start referring to them as “My Pride and Posse”. “Peoples” chose option three. Strangely, once sweet Ellenor passed in 2008 (our LA river trash cat), Peoples took to sitting on her grave. A sign you say? That, plus he wouldn’t go away.
MVI_5365, originally uploaded by Access Palm 2009.
Besides being polydactyl “Peoples” demonstrates another of his rare but charming characteristics… as long as he gets to lead and I stick to his territory, he’ll walk with me. Of course he’s less then enthusiastic when it’s a 100 degrees in the shade.
With a little sub standard medical care Peoples is now nutless and adjusting to the joys of domesticity. Yes, he peed on top of the bag. Unfortunately he hasn’t grasped the concept of kitty litter yet. These things take time.
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