(Also, because I want to make some extra bank as one of my courses at SVA was cancelled this semester due to low enrollment. While I wasn’t thrilled, I must say its nice to get a break from lecturing six hours in a row, which has been my Thursdays for a long time now. Not a big deal, but being free at 3PM and in the city is rare for me and I’m enjoying it.)

Something so engaging and real about being on the sidewalk meeting and talking to all kinds of people, eye to eye…SO glad i did it:) And was so happy to have my neighbor-longtime friend hang with me all day, from beginning to end, helping me set up and take down! How fucking sweet is that?! AM SO GRATEFUL. Of course I kept trying to foist stuff on her, lol, in gratitude – and I had great stuff out there, from Gunne Sax to Leslie Fay to Ungaro, with lots of great 1960s-70s stuff, which she loves. But she only took a couple things. I also think she enjoyed it too, the human side of it reminding her of her retail/record store days in San Francisco in the early 1990s.

I was surprised how little people knew about what they were looking at. I thought with all the young blood in Greenpoint and the popularity of all things “vintage” there’d be more cultivated tastes out there. My biggest sale, who also has an Etsy shop, being an exception. Regardless, the fact that people just bought things because they liked them was also cool!

I do though wonder if I’ve just acquired more expertise than I realize (to justify my endless thrifting, no doubt), or if there’s no desire for expertise anymore as “vintage” simply means “second-hand” now. Ie, its just all “old”. I’ve always taken it quite seriously thanks to gay male friends who schooled me back in the day (some cliches are true), but that’s when very few did the vintage thing, and everyone had a niche.

Anyway, I’ll be uploading new stuff on romanlovesgigi (my Etsy shop again soon), and perhaps doing more street sales (next time with biz cards for my shop), so stay tuned!

(Btw, if you didn’t catch my show, From the Ruins…, it got great reviews, meaty thoughtful ones, in the New Yorker, artforum.com, Time Out New York, the Brooklyn Rail, PAPER, and observer.com so Google that shit! Pretty damn grateful for that still too!!! And I’m excited to be working on some other projects! this amazing Fall weather on the east coast, and look out for the giant red moon Sunday nite!!)

some super quick pics from the iphone…(I am laughing that I threw in curlers I never used and nail polish: classy, lol!)

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She will go on and on incoherently, and its the same spiel all these years, always peppered by comments about her husband being Jewish and the Catholic Poles all hating her, and stories of being robbed. She never appears to recognize me despite our many interactions, and tonite I told her three times, “yes, I know, I remember you telling me that”. But whenever I try to carry on a conversation by replying, she gets confused, or just uninterested.  Sometimes it makes the desire to walk away stronger, but I never do.

Tonite I made sure she drank a lot of water because it was so dangerously hot, and I got her to eat some rice. I also helped her hide her $, which she keeps separate from her pocketbook, promising I’d look for a pink blouse and a size pair 10 shoes tomorrow at her request (she often doesn’t like the selections I make, though,  having once turned her nose up at a pocketbook I got for her).  When I started to leave, she got very upset when I didn’t give her my number (because I didn’t have a pen), even asking a passer-by if he had one. I felt so bad, but I didn’t want to even try to dig out her pocketbook, find her throwaway phone and type in my digits because I knew she won’t remember to call (I gave it to her once before)…Lots of people walk past, some take pictures…I took a picture of her once, recently actually, but when she told me she didn’t like being photographed,  I deleted it immediately so there’s no pics to lillustrate or dramatize this post.  And I should’ve asked her first. The idea that people on the street don’t have the dignity or the right to consent is just so wrong.

More importantly, this old lady, batty as she is, should have other options than living in the street, or being institutionalized. Tonite she talked about Woodward, a mental hospital, and I couldn’t tell if she was referring to herself having stayed there or her husband. As mentioned, she’s very difficult to follow, though I try. She does know the difference – when I’m really listening and not, and clearly likes that I try to follow. No doubt she’s endured a lot of  patronizing, which upsets me almost as much as the young hipsters – who dominate the hood now – who treat her like the trash she often sits propped up near.

Its easy to convince yourself that because you can’t ultimately change a homeless person’s situation, and they’re everywhere, there’s no point in bothering, you won’t make a difference. Or to console yourself with donations made to orgs that help the homeless, which of course is great to do.  I sometimes am one of these people. But when I do stop and take the time, I’m reminded that you can help alleviate the desolation and isolation so many on the street suffer from – in silence – by acknowledging their humanity, and reaching out. I remain in awe of this woman’s ability to survive, and take solace in knowing there are some who take the time to show her the kindness she deserves.

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I remember getting out of bed really late one night, around the age of 11-12, with a flashlight at the ready, to tune in to a rare radio interview with Neil Young I was supposed to be sleeping through. Pressing my ear against the radio, swooning in some nocturnal communion with this man I’d begun to revere. The influence of an older brother.  My obsession continued through high school, and this is humiliating, so never bring it up in person, haha!, but I used to sign yearbooks with “Neil Young is #1!” LOL. And my nickname with my BFF, Maria, was “Cinneman Girl” (hers was Wild Child, after The Doors). Watching archival footage like this live BBC show from 1971 would’ve made me cream my panties back then; that long hair, willowy silhouette and awkward prettiness was so sexy.  I’m actually crushing all over again watching and listening to him!! And OF COURSE I memorized every word to every song:) so I can sing along. Check it out though as he’s uncharacteristically ebullient in this performance. Its sweet.

Anyway, I began to stray in the 1980s, always appreciating his desire to experiment and fail, the mark of a true artist, IMHO, and I bought Trans, 1982. but my sensibility shifted more post punk   By the early 2000s, I hardly ever played his music, it felt so wedded to that silly high school girl, a nostalgic thing.Then one day at The Carlyle, that famed hotel, after meeting with this tacky Sante Fe collector who wanted to hire me to “curate” something, there in the lobby was NEIL. Maybe 10 feet in front of me, leaving through the side door with his entourage. The obsessive fan possessed me again – fulfill your fantasy to meet him, was pushing myself – but I hesitated too long, too fearful that it would disturb him. Knowing he was such a private, taciturn guy. Eventually I followed them out onto the street where I caught a glimpse of him, sliding in his black suit into a dark sedan. I did ask one of his roadies, “Is that Neil?, what’s he in town for?” And he said, “yeah, its him, he’s here for an CSNY tour”.  A few years later I slept with this beautiful guy, 15 years younger, who I bonded with – much to my surprise! – over a love for Neil (and he had the whole pretty boy, long hair, tall and thin thing going on). I realized then that with the whole 1970s culture revival, which strangely hasn’t abated, a whole new fan base for Neil Young would grow. Now music critics say he took Dylan’s baton in the 1970s, already elevating his significance – revisionist history: I teach it, I live it, it heartens me.

Maybe its the strong political messages, and distrust of fame are finally resonating again with a new generation, instead of being relegated to mom rock (or should that be dad rock), a “genre” I first encountered on artist Juliana Huxtable’s FB post about Sleater Kinney. HILARIOUS. Anyway, a few days ago it was  announced wNeil Young, with a new band and Willie Nelsons sons (!!), was working on an “ANTI-MONSATO” album, and social media’s been abuzz ever since. A NME piece on it leads with a funny, flatfooted quote that’s so Neil: “No auto tune was used and no ears were harmed in the making”, but even Check out his recent album Storytone, which is like a prelude, at least in ts initial song, “Whose Gonna Stand Up” with lyrics like: “damn the dams save the rivers starve the takers feed the givers, stand up to oil, protect the plants,…whose going to stand up and the earth, whose gonna take on the big machine, this all starts with you and me”…there’s a solo version followed by a symphonic version, the latter an earnest plea with a Broadway tone that’s a wee goofy, and each song is given its orchestral version, btw, which is another classic foray of his into territory untread. the songs that follow are reminiscent of a sweeter, grandpa Neil. Its like he’s channeling Pete Seeger.

And FYI, I actually tried to photograph one of my year books, only to realize that my signature “Neil Young is #1!” would be found in someone else’s yearbook. What I did find though were some incredibly intimate and long “entries” by girlfriends (I went to an all girls’ Catholic high school) that were so touching. And serious! Full of darkness.  Rreminded me why particularly in my teens I was so attached to this man and his music. It was a real emotional attachment. I guess that’s what I wanted to convey to him in that split second siting in The Carlyle. It was always the moody and (alternately) rancorous sides of his work I liked best, I guess I instinctively responded to the emotion as well as the songwriting. In some ways, I always thought of him as father grunge.

December 1969, San Diego, California, USA — Neil Young plays his vintage Gretsch White Falcon during a sound check at Balboa Stadium just before a Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young concert. — Image by © Henry Diltz/CORBIS

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But back to the point, which is history, and the way its constantly being rewritten (something else I hammer home). Last week’s New York magazine, which I’m reading through now, is devoted to speculation, by 53 historians, on Obama’s legacy. Will history regard him as an FDR or a Kennedy or forget him, or worse, malign him. I think he will be remembered well, and dare I say, as someone who embodies that quality of focus I speak of, which is equally important to achieving goals.

People on the left and right have been so hard on Obama IMHO, and though I understand some of the criticism (Cornell West speaks esp. well to disappointments I also share), I find the expectations baffling and extraordinary. And frankly rather naive. Just what do people think presidents can do given they’re largely figureheads,  and that corporations run the government? I mean, maybe I’ve become biased, as I think I’ve acknowledged before, because I’ve grown to like and admire the man a lot. But anyone smart enough to pick a partner like Michelle, and capable enough to remain calm in the face of an 8 year shit storm, all while still getting things done – Obamacare, immigrant rights advances, that eco-agreement with China, to name a few accomplishments worthy of historical record – is worthy of remembrance.  And while I loathed most the bailout of the banks, had he not done so, they would’ve dragged this country into another Depression (yes, we got close, and the poor were, as usual, most fucked, but what president could’ve avoided that decision – one in which acting swiftly was key).  Maybe I’m naive, but Obama has earned my loyalty. I hope history treats him well. I look forward to hearing him give his State of the Union address tonite.

Regardless, this lost speech by Martin Luther King from 1964, perfectly encapsulates how unreliable history is, and its potential to radically change, when what has been lost or omitted, is redressed or discovered. And as this interesting article  also conveys, by discussing MLK’s more radical socialist leanings, which have been repressed to suit another idea of him, even his legacy is open to change. Yes we can.

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‘These vintage Converse All Star slip ons are in EXCELLENT near mint condition. The painted canvas pattern is called “Stickers” but looks like anime cartoon comic book mash-up, a Pop Art, Andy Warhol style that are so skater kool. Wear them with skirts, dresses, skinny jeans, cut-offs, or even a suit. A one-of-a-kind as most of these are gone from the market. If they weren’t too big I’d be keeping them for myself, trust me, they’re that good.’

Just thought I’d share them along with the painted and sharpie-d ones I found online. I never tire of the DIY spirit of self-customizing, and its so seamless with the Converse brand’s skater-punk vibe. Or am I being nostalgic, and Converse is as evil as Nike? This Converse story suggests otherwise go here). Etsy too comes out of the DIY legacy — lets hope it stays there. ENJOY!!

MY CONVERSE FOR SALE at romanlovesgigi on etsy.com

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There’s some art I like by friends and others (as always, most if not all can be Google image searched, otherwise just ask me), a preponderance of text/quotes in this batch, interestingly, and a few menacing clowns. The completely random order came out quite precipitous this round, I think. Andnow I’m going to do as Kurt Vonnegut advised to children (the final “image”), and PURGE these from my desktop in the name of becoming.
     
 

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Speaking of busy, on Friday as I covertly put up posters for my Artist Statement workshop at Pulse (including the men’s bathroom), and saw someone lock in on the QR code w/their phone, I followed behind them to see if it worked, and it did! Between that, and my getting my first smartphone ever this week, i’m feeling like a 21st century fox! At the dinner party, I used my new phone (Samsung via MetroPCS) to google everyone’s website so people could see each others’ work, and it was such a nice moment of sharing:)

Walking home, a guy from the new BRC shelter in the nabe started a song and dance that included the price of the turkey sandwich he bought, his calculations as to how much he needed for a bed that nite being $11. As someone who’s worked professionally with the homeless – as a caseworker and public advocate, as well as a street outreach-volunteer – I knew he wasn’t lying, so I gave him $6. He told me his name and said, should I ever need anything, to remember it, just in case. Then he asked me for my name. A sincere hustle is always one to empathize with.

So too, the email from California Against Slavery that appeared in my inbox just now, honoring foster moms on Mother’s Day, tugged at my heart. Go to their FB page, and you’ll find another post about how the foster care system has been integral to the human trafficking network in this country, the implication being good foster parents are rare as so many exploit those in their care, but posting that on Mother’s Day would be too gruesome for most. I swear if I’m ever able to handle the responsibility of parenting in the future, I will try to foster. I honestly don’t understand why more of those do decide they’re up for parenthood don’t consider it.

One of my friends who came tonite, Hunter Reynolds, took in a young woman who was part of this amazing program he’s fundraising for again now called Arts in the Woods, a camp in the Catskills for homeless queer youth. Please donate. Its the kind of org that works miracles with so little. I’m going to donate in honor of my Mom on Mothers Day!

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If you want to know origin/author of any images, let me know….most can be found in a Google search. Just too tired:)

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CUT-N-PASTE FROM: http://tinyhouseblog.com
Gregory’s Homeless Homes Project
by Christina Nellemann on February 17th, 2014. 36 Comments
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Many readers of the Tiny House Blog might know Gregory Kloehn best from his Dumpster home that was featured on Inside Edition and the Rachel Ray Show. Gregory now has a new project in the works. The Homeless Homes Project, which features tiny structures built out of illegally dumped garbage and industrial waste, are becoming more than an environmental stance or garbage art. These little homes are fast becoming a collaborative project between different groups who want to help shelter people who live on the streets.

With names like R2D2, Romanian Farm House, Uni-bomber Shack and The Chuck Wagon, these structures are built from pallets, bed frames, futon frames, doors, plywood, OSB, paint, packing crates, car consoles, auto glass, refrigerator shelves and anything else Gregory can find in local dumping areas around his home in Oakland. He looks for anything that has real wood, tempered glass and sturdy frames, and only purchases nails, screws, glue, paint brushes and saw blades. When a home is completed, he pushes it into the street, take a few photos and then gives it away.

“From that point on, I have no more say in it,” Gregory said. “The homes take on a life of their own. One was stolen, one was sold, one was firebombed, one is in a neighbor’s backyard with dogs living in it, the rest are still on the streets with people living in them.”

Gregory’s initial concept of these homes was not to house the homeless but came about because of some research he was conducting on homeless architecture and the various structures built by people who live on the street. He was inspired by their resourcefulness to take found objects and create homes and a livelihood from them.

“I was inspired to take these same materials back to my shop and put them together in a more permanent fashion,” Gregory said. “After about a week of collecting and building, I had a 21st century hunter/gather home, built from the discarded fruits of the urban jungle.”

“This sat at my studio for a number of months, just collecting dust,” he continued. “One rainy night, Charlene, a homeless woman I’ve known for some 10 years, asked if I had a tarp for her. I told her I didn’t have one and I went back inside. As I walked past the home, it hit me, I should give her this. I ran back out and told her to come back tomorrow and I would have a home for her. She and her husband Oscar came back the next day. I handed them a set of keys and a bottle of champagne and watched them push it down the street. It felt so good that I started making another one that same day.”

Gregory’s now working on the projects with several community groups and people who come to his shop to help. The plan is to move into a larger space that can accommodate workshops and larger builds. He said his Dumpster home project taught him many lessons that he’s applying to the Homeless Homes including sticking to his original vision.

“Regardless of what others say, or what you may even say to yourself about an idea, if you think it has merit and you want to do it, you should just do it,” he said. “Don’t let petty details derail your desires, you can deal with those later, what’s important is the essence of your ideas.”

Gregory’s interest in tiny homes came from building a lot of different homes and condos over the years and realizing that the smaller projects actually made him happier.

“There is a spontaneity and playfulness in making small homes that traditional houses do not offer,” Gregory said. “It reminds me of making forts as a kid, no city planners, no architects, no crews, no bank loans, just my ideas and my hands.”

Photos by Gregory Kloehn

By Christina Nellemann for the [Tiny House Blog]

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