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A large rush order got cancelled the other day. Someone decided it should be done in Seattle instead of the Bay Area, even after I had started it and taken off from my other job to work on it the last several weeks. I'll have to eat what I already finished. Another union job starts Tuesday which I will jump on, and I will be able to sell the stuff I made to someone else eventually... still. My client is a nice person from Berkeley: evolved, earth/spiritual, new age, on the way up. Sort of figures in my experience. Nevertheless, it is always a surprise when it happens. Over the years, all of my bad debt clients or ones who have failed to honor the agreement for one dodgy reason or another, have been from Berkeley, come to think of it. Others from here and there have occasionally been difficult, but they never stiffed me. I understand their concerns and respect them. There haven't been many problem clients, but I never expect this from the good opinion I usually have of artists residing in Berkeley. I have never desired to live in Berkeley though, even though my attitudes would seem to make me a fit. Maybe that says something.

Here's a friend of mine, resting, Friday.

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This morning I heard a report on NPR that the artist George Tooker had died last week at the age of 90. I became aware of him in 1968 when the magazine AvantGarde had a retrospective about his New York City work. Last month at the auction house, a lithograph was offered from that period of his oeuvre.

11036270. Photobucket

It fetched a hammer price of $650. They have this little room of graphic art hung salon style that I always am sure to carefully check out. The Tooker was up high on a wall. I noticed it right away and took a look, remembering back to the time I first knew of him. It was across the narrow room from a Whistler etching and two Dürer's which I also paused to view. Those went for much more, although I had doubts about two of them being authentic. (One of the Dürer's surely was.) Influences migrate in from many sources and degrees. They pass through, but taint the thoughts.

Here's an image from 1994 I recently dug out from the tell.

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    her look. a terrain. Photobucket
    moonlit. spring stream,

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