Listics

In the late fifties or early sixties, my dad dug out the slide projector, aimed it at a canvas, and projected a 35mm Kodachrome transparency there-on.   The picture was a pastoral woodland scene,  trees, leafy boughs, a deer in a lane looking at the photographer.  Dad sketched in the outline of every branch, every leaf, the deer, the dappled sunlight on the forest floor, and he took a paint by numbers kit and matched the oils by tint to what he saw on the canvas.  Methodically, he assigned a color value to each area in his sketch, and then he began to paint.  It wasn’t the work of an afternoon.  He was down there in the basement sketching and painting evenings after work for some months until he was ready to unveil the work.

Between his meticulous attention to detail and his subject matter, the finished piece looked - to me - like it came straight out of the Disney studios.  It was realistic, and it had a romantic cartoon quality.

Paint-by-numbers was a pop culture fad in the fifties in America.  Dad’s DIY paint by numbers effort was not unlike these. 

When I saw the Jewish NASCAR entry at Madame Levy’s, I chuckled and despaired of sharing it.  I’m not Jewish.  I’m the last member of a bizarre zenophobic european culture that preyed on Jews and other ethnic minorities for the last 1500 years at least.  I’m also an early adopter of a new bizarre non-zenophobic world culture that acknowledges differences, honors and respects the variety of traditions, and avoids harsh criticism and disrespect, substituting eyes-open acceptance, and - where possible - love.  [Disclaimer:  I am also frequently beset by irascible visions that cloud the whole brotherly-sisterly thing].

But the historical effect of those millenia of hatred and ill behavior that culminated in the evil of National Socialism, make me tread softly around jokes about Jews and Jewishness…  even so, now both Golby and Brian Moffatt have displayed the picture, everyone is chuckling, Golby has clearly explained why this is a good thing and why guys like me with residual Nazi guilt don’t need to sweat it, and it appeared first in the Onion for goodness sakes… why am I so uptight?  Dunno, just am.   

erisFree

Word…

Bruce Springsteen is extending his acoustic tour and will be in Madison on October 15.  Last week, ironically enough - and of course irony remains my middle name - after the Scorsese thing which one could view as a retelling of the Newport frenzy and it’s fallout mixed with a retelling of the faithful Joanie’s adoration for her artist as a young man, after I had seen the two nights of Dylan and folk on the cusp of revolution and been reminded of all the nonsense and angst that the shift from acoustic to electric supposedly wrought I was talking to a friend who mentioned that Springsteen was coming, but lamented that the second set at least would be acoustic and thought there was little value in that seeing as how when he goes to see the Boss he wants to hear the E Street Band.

I found that ironic.  I find it less ironic than interesting that as Dylan ages he has adopted a Vincent Price thin moustache, while as Springsteen continues to mature he reminds me of Gary Oldman.

And that seems to be the state of criticism of the poetry and musicianship of Bob Dylan these days.  Unless you want to take a look at what Golby has written.  More than a fan-boy, more than a critic, Golby as an artist himself with a deep appreciation of Dylan’s work brings a lot of it all back home.  For a little clarity, for some fresh water in the midst of a murky swamp, if you’re interested in reading a little Dylan criticism and all that implies, well… go here.

Then again, to argue Dylan’s poor standing among the likes of Beethoven
and great poets is a double-edged sword. Why put him up there? At least
it distances the artist from his art and robs our intrepid journalists
of their cheapest trick, blurring personal and artistic distinctions to
pander to our culture’s innate desire to worship every so-called
personality for 15 minutes before setting him or her aflame.

Think of it as yesterday’s zeitgeist tomorrow.  Don’t miss the Bubblegum Awards this Friday in LA honoring (among other notables) Doctor Demento.

But right now, after the end of part two of the Scorsese thing, I imagine that there are approximately 22,342 men in America doing what I’m doing… trying to unwrap a Bach fruit slice while standing and shouting doggerel at the dog in a throaty Dylan voice that sounds so loud…. trying to figure out what it’s all about… struggling that damn candy to unpeeeeeeellll… tell me how does it feel?

I wonder how many Englishmen were so moved.  I have an accurate count of the mad dogs.  136.  Or 142.

Suddenly Wondermark appeared on the horizon!

Madame Levy shares a brilliant cat blogging cartoon by David Malki.  Wait, not just any random David Malki.  Rather, THIS David Malki.  No.  No.  That’s not right.  THIS David Malki, I think.