logo design by Arnie Charnick
SHOWING CAPE COD & NEW YORK ARTISTS SINCE 1994
|
|
SHOWING CAPE COD & NEW YORK ARTISTS SINCE 1994 |
|
MEET THE ARTISTS HOME OUR STORY CONTACT LINKS
|
|
P.O. Box 537 New York, NY 10009 212-631-1112
EXCEPTIONAL ART AT AFFORDABLE PRICES VIRTUAL TOURS ARRANGEMENTS MADE TO VISIT THE ARTIST'S STUDIO OR GALLERY
|
THE DIARIES our more literary side
|
| DIARIST | DIARY ENTRY | ||
 Peter Scarbo Frawley |
|
|
|
 Jackson Lambert with Gus Gutterman |
Al was the only Italian we ever met who was allergic to tomatoes. “If women really were tomatoes, Al would be in trouble,” Madge used to say. “Where does he get them all?” “And where does he get all those thousands of little bits and pieces of paper for his collages?” was another question Madge and I used to bat around when conversation ran thin. They looked like slick magazine stock to me. “And with what does he affix the paper to his canvas or whatever?” was another paper stock question we traded back and forth – ‘affix’ was one of our better words. For instance, “he affixes them, I have been told, to a bed of sizing varnish.” So what is a bed of varnish? But Al worked in Ciro’s and would have known about bed of lettuce varnish. “Hey Al, affix me another drink.” Jackson Lambert |
||
 Lynne Burns |
For my mom, Alda 3/21/1915 to 8/29/2011 Aug. 25, 2011 She was 96 years old & winding down. She was a die-hard Elvis fan. She often told the story that she had 3rd row seats for his concert at the Hartford Civic Center. The concert was cancelled due to Elvis’ unexpected death. She didn’t turn in the ticket for a refund. It was too precious to her. I took her to Graceland for her 80th birthday & it really was a dream come true. I liked it as much as she did. We stayed at the Peabody Hotel. We went down to the lobby our last morning & a radio station was broadcasting live. They interviewed her & she told them how she had dreamt of Elvis the night before. But she wouldn’t give out any of the details. Too personal, she told them. As she lay in bed now, I put on an Elvis CD & climbed in bed with her. I started singing along with the music. She said to me: “If I were a man & you were singing next to me, I’d grab you & love you up”. Lynne Burns
|
||
 Gail Schilke |
Nocterminal July 29, 2011 Look, something told me I should just stay in tonight — So I grab his bike and I don’t let go. And now he knows And he’s scared & I’m glad & I won’t let go And his friend says, "You hear what she called you?" Then they both start after me Because after all, I may be pissed, So I cross the park shaking bad And look down from my window… Gail Schilke
|
||
 Diane Hanna |
Sur
La Plage I have just bought the most captivating hat: a huge, black-brimmed affair, so wide I swear it grazes the sides of the doorway from the porch. The vast perimeter is threaded with a hem of thin wire so that I can scrunch it whatever way I want…now it’s a pirate’s hat with its brim jauntily turned up, now it’s the reclusive hat of a poetic (albeit dramatic) dowager. You can hide under this hat, or you can be the star of the show. With such a hat, I need a new bathing suit. Living on Cape Cod, with the silver blue Atlantic just a half mile down Main Street, it’s almost unheard of to have only one bathing suit, let alone a bathing suit that’s nine years old. Mine is a black, basic, one-piece with a high neck…functional but quite ho-hum, perfect for a high school swim meet. Since most bathing suits terrify me, what I’d really like to do is have a chat with someone like Norma Kamali and tell her this: “I would love a simple black maillot with a high neck and a little flouncy polka dot skirt.” That’s it, that’s my dreamy beach attire: black, flirty-skirted bathing suit, dancing polka dots, very very big black hat, and black flip-flops. As the nine year-old suit indicates, I’m not much of a swimmer; my imagination gets the best of me in a lake (all that nightmarish seaweed) or the ocean (crabs, jellyfish, undertows, rip currents). Pools are best for the faint of heart because we can see to the bottom of that turquoise water, see if there’s anything live or otherwise lurking there. I’m delighted though to live so close to la mer, happy with the strong clear light, the ions full of bonhomie, the fresh tidal air, the shimmering blue vistas, but wading into those dark, frothing depths teeming with wild things that can nip or bite or sting or squish or pinch or ensnare, well, I’ll leave that to the more intrepid souls. You’ll find me in my rickety beach chair, in hat and polka dots, turning the pages of a damp and yellowed paperback, now and then regarding the horizon, dreaming of tangled gardens and moss-covered stones, of abandoned Irish castles, or a very late afternoon café au lait on the Rue de ton Choix. Diane Hanna
|
||
Entries © by their authors
Video © 2011-2020 by Lynne Burns