Happy New Year 2014!

Well I made it as well as all who are still here with me in this world. It's time to reflect and see what is in store for us. Everything is possible within reason. Happiness and sadness will come this year and understanding that is so important. It's not time to turn over a new leaf, it's time to plant and water and feed a new tree to have new growth. Understand the past as a man who came from that Vintage Past and try not repeat anything but invent a whole new world of possibilities. Take a bite, give it your all as it may be your last.I have a new opportunity, a chance, and only with this effort shall I possibly prevail. They will not know me this year as I will not be a reflection of the man they knew.

I hope that all I meet will be wondrous to me and that they cast their shadow on me however light or dark it is.

Happy New Year to all who are alive and best of luck in this adventure.

I Hurt All over - It's has been a Long Long Life.

I have done many things in my life, more than most I do believe. I have always worked and always played hard except for the last 10 years. I have just worked hard these last 10. Went to high end prep schools out east and college in Boston and Michigan but never graduated. Worked in a Coney Island, worked for Boeing on aircraft engine parts, a couple of years offshore, worked at Caesars Palace in Vegas, owned a Mid-Century Store and for 30 plus years worked and then owned a specialty manufacturing company with 30 plus people. There are more things, but I just forget some on purpose I'm sure. I have been a young Hippie type, heavy into drugs, been a punk in the late seventies into the eighties, drank like a fish and been with more than my share of beautiful women. Married twice and been in real love only 4 times. Broken bones in sport, play and work including blowing out my knee, broke my shoulder blade and had broken ribs playing lacrosse, broke my jaw mountain climbing, broke my foot and arm off shore oil, broke my hand in manufacturing and broke my back on vacation in West Virginia with the family. I hurt all over, but I have boundless energy and am always doing something. I pick up anything, have moved countless yards of dirt and rocks, put in beaches and sea walls and moved thousands of pounds of boxes furniture and clothing for my Mid-Century store, flea markets and my wife's vintage clothing store. I hurt all over, but mostly in my heart. 

What in the Hell Happened in Terrorism to Forget About the Cause and Just Maim and Kill?

I hate to say it this, as I am not a fan of any kind of Terrorism, but have they lost their freaking minds? I do believe in causes and the need for revolutionary acts for basic human principles and rights. Well I should not be an American if I did not understand and support the reasons for our countries existence and the cost of our first freedom from the British and our internal Civil War for the fight for Freedom of all.

I would like to say blowing up shit just to prove a point I almost understand as long as you have those “basic principles and human rights” as your causes and nobody, and I mean nobody gets hurt. But it gets too fuzzy as someone not responsible pays the bill and someone inevitably gets hurt.

Not like blow up a bank or your neighbor’s mailbox….causes here we are talking…causes.

I do understand the passive principles of Mahatma Gandhi and wish this process could work in every circumstance. But hopes and dreamers died in the Holocaust without a fight (no condemning them in anyway, just remorse and shame felt for the world) and there cause I think was just life itself.

I don’t own a gun and have no desire to own one at this time. I don’t believe it’s my singular right to unarm Americans as this is a dangerous world and we have a really screwed up government who done not know how to say no to anything except criticism of its self. I am not scared of the armed person next door who legally has a gun. I’m glad they are there!

So off the track but it all means something in this thought pattern I have going (I think...)

Tinkering thought pattern (trying to connect dots)

So you blow up a bus…wherever (just so happens in Russia today)…to move your cause forward so that your providence from the old Soviet System can be free of the Russians…….and the Russians are brutal…..they left Afganistan after they killed so many and bombed many parts into the stone age……and this action outside your boards of disputed land you think will possibly scare them or turn the world body to force Russia to leave……and they see the dead bodies and mangled bus…….and the world is suppose to be in Russia for the Olympics in 6 weeks…….a model of peace between nations…..oh yea remember how much love and sympathy the  “Black September” Palestine got after the 1972 Munich Olympic……oh yea advance your cause and you have NO FRIENDS IN THE WORLD NOW….opps looks like you used someone’s daughter or sister to do the dirty deed……

Figure it out….damn…economically shut them down….strike like Poland…..sit down like Lennon or Gandhi…..take to the streets in millions…..take videos of oppression and get them out of the country and find sleazy hungry media…get everyone to sit down at once!.....if that is everyone want Russia out (don’t know that and could be a valid point.)

But blowing up people to get your point across or negotiate. Get a life…figure it out…don’t take a life that is innocent. We are not talking hitting military installations, no we are talking train stations and schools and buses.

Ok we have them here too. Oklahoma Bombing (been there and know people who were there) moment of silence please.

And there are the far out wings of Animal Rights Groups and Eco-terrorists like Earth Liberation Front (ELF). What there are 6 or 7 known in ELF and maybe a dozen at most ever in the movement? They burn down new houses or cars or wacky things to try and save forests. But train stations and buses. HAS THIS EVERY GOT ANY OF THERE CAUSES ANYWHERE?

REST MY CASE

As always I hate to re read stuff and I apologize to myself for the errors (and maybe you too)

Moving Again - This Time 75 Feet! - And it Feels Like a Knife Stuck in my BRAIN!

The proverbial "Knife in the Brain"

Well here I go again. I'm moving. It's getting crazy! I picked up my thing (all in 10 minutes or less) and shifted my weary bones upstairs into the spare room and out of the bedroom. It was dark in there and I don't mean from the lights or windows! She got me to return and dickshit here bought the farm, all the cows, pigs, animal shit and all! I was ready to break the barrier I said I would not cross. She said she was ready. I gave it 200%, but she just wallowed in the past and hung onto it with dear life. What the fuck is back there? What the hell can anyone do about it? Who wants to live it over again? 

Well back to the move which is not escaping. I'm here, let's give it a try. I moved out of respect and caution for her feelings. She was not ready that's for sure! So give her some space and extend compassion and understanding even if she is showing none. I have time. Time moves very slowly as hours crawl by and clouds are motionless. I have learned how to enjoy each moment and there was no enjoyment waiting for her to find the light. I sure could not help her find it. She has to find her own way even if it is failure to me but a win for her.

This may make sense to nobody but me and I wish she could hear me without all the prejudices from the past to cloud her mind. My discussions are cryptic as each and every word I mutter is dissected and responded to adding the inflection of my voice and movement of any part or multiple parts of my body from a critical review. Who live like that? It feels like a knife stuck in by brain, hence the picture of my how it feels upstairs in my HEAD…………..

I Learned Something Tonight - Love and hate

Well its funny how when you wish for something, something happens and it's not always the result you wanted. I yea, it's not and its shitty how hard it scan strike you. Below the belt they hit with a twist like a dull knife in the chest. I always knew you could not make someone love you. I always knew that love lost is lost forever. I just did not realize how dumb I was. It's possible for someone to love you just enough, yes that tad over the edge from not love or even hate, just to keep you hanging for torture. Not that they mean to torture you. Not that they planned it or try to or need to, they just do without trying. It's all they have left of a relationship and they have no compassion or consideration left. You can try to change and what they want is more change. 

But when is there nothing left of who you are? Don’t you want someone to love you for who you are? Its little things that are thrown at you (or place so carefully like to trip you), big things and things that you do only once or things that don’t matter at all. It’s dragging up things from the past and placing in discussions of the present. They do it with great skill and crush you in the moment where you are attempting to reconcile. Even open your inner self. This person you love does this when you are beyond vulnerable with your soul like a brain open in the middle of surgery. 

They are never going to love you like you love them. They don't understand what they are missing each passing moment. They will never feel what you feel. Give up on it or just give up on your self.

Looking for a Crack in the Paper Thin Armor

It is like a slow life in China around the turn of a couple of centuries ago.  The sound of the wind and soft rain on my cheek.  Whispers of the insects in the night air and a light fog lay close to the ground over in a different world which runs and runs. It has no direction of final bearing. It wants and knows nothing, tries and fails at most and is suffocated with the air so close. I wish I could TV love. You know the foolish stupid crazy kind of love when you were 16. Not the TV love of today or yesterday, but long ago in my Vintage mind, maybe in the silent movies where a look or a slight motion says it all. I have it in me and I have the vision of it being so close, but it in covered in a membrane so so thin which can only be broken by love from the other side.

Knowing that I have this in me make me whole as I know myself. It is strength and comforting. Knowing that it may never break through from the other side makes me sad for someone else who I can’t reach.

Life is so short, but when you are whole and see almost all (never all as only someone else can broaden this and show you the rest) your footsteps are light and everything is soft and lovely.

Stig Linberg Karneval items from my collection

Below are 5 pieces of Stig Lindberg "Karneval" pottery from the 1950’s out of my collection. Digging through boxes I found these five pieces of which I have many more. Stig has always been a favorite as I am drawing to the more figurative or decorated pottery from the mid-century.

Stig Lindberg studied at the Swedish State School of arts, crafts and design in Stockholm, hoping to become a painter. After graduating in 1937 he accepted an employment as a faience painter at Gustavsberg pottery under Wilhelm Kåge. Kåge became a major influence on the young Lindberg, and in 1949 he was named his successor as art director at Gustavsberg. 

It’s strange as I started collecting at the end of the 70’s  that you just don’t normally run into these items like I use to. Sure you can buy online, but if I can’t touch and “feel” the item, I can’t buy it.

STIG LINBERG "KARNEVAL"

Hope someone enjoys this, or not.

Mundane - New Definition or Redefinition or "Life in a Black and White Silent Movie"

Things move very slowly and with shadows. It does not seem that way in color, only in Black and White. I live in a world where I am alive with happiness and pain as most the world, but around me there is no expression, no drive or ambition. If the world ended today they would not be able to pick the today as any different as others. I watch and only when I look at inanimate objects or nature do I see color. Brilliant greens and so many shades of blues and reds.I feel like am drifting in the spring flowers with the green sprouts soft under my feet and then I gaze at the world I live in and there is only Black and Whites with a couple of gray shaded areas which are shadows. I can be in the house all quiet for hours with everyone in their corner like spooked spiders. Closing doors, drawing shades, head phones on or just their ears off. I make food and they take and run to their corners. I clean the dishes and push for the interaction by going into their spaces to see if they are done and I can pick up the plates. Black and White.

Oh yea! The dogs see in color. They are alive and waiting out here with me. Playing and biting, running and jumping all over. Kisses forever. The never ending love of dogs. Poor damn things living in the house of Black and White Contrasts.

What can I do? What should I do? I don't know. Dropped most of my friends. Find my self hiding in this colorless world. Waiting and waiting like for Snow White to wake up. pathetic , wasteful of the precious time we have on this earth.

Black and white. Great for photographic studies, shitty for life.

Giving and not receiving and getting use to it. What I really wanted for Chritmas

I gladly gave what I could this Christmas. I actually gave more than I had and will end up paying some bills late. Not too far of a stretch but ZERO on a credit card. I have no more credit cards and hate what they do to people. I want to say most know what they are doing with credit cards, but it seems these days either they just don't understand how it will fuck up their life if they don't pay attention to it or they never should of qualified for one in the first place. 
So back to the point as I got off track there. I gave and did not receive. Oh I get thank you and that great and stuff like that, but I just don't need anything which could be wrapped up. I also do not expect anything anymore. Given up, left open my mind this the space it took up, free and clear.  
What did I want? One, just one or more of these things:

Compassion
Understanding of how I feel and my needs
Discussion   just talking
Laughing
A touch of a woman's hand on my face
The feeling I am need for more than my paycheck and cleaning ability
Consideration of my view

Notice I did not say love

The Two Year Road Home for Christmas - You get what you pay for

Well it's the season of what i don't know of. It's Christmas yes, but as I peer into the Hermit Crab Shell of my home, anything alive may have left or died. It's cold here. lonely, boring and surreal. This is going to be short as nothing happens around here. Everyone is not sad or happy, just missing life flying by. Fucking computers and games and phones and TVs. What about life, nature, experiences, failures, love and adventure. Even if the adventure is a discussion into how the other person is feeling. Hi, i love you, how was your day, what is your schedule tomorrow or whatever. I sit in the living room and watch everyone go to their prospective corners, close their doors and lay on beds or sit in front of a computer. This is better than not seeing my kids regular. I am the bread winner by over 1000%, I do 90% of the cooking, cleaning, shopping pick ups and deliveries and drive back and forth to schools. Well you get what you pay for they say..............

Hit by the Truck and mentally dragged down the street

Well I thought things like this did not happen to ordinary men. Yep the truck hit me. The truck, which I was not suppose to let hit ME. Yep the one you were all prepared to move a clear distance from as you saw it coming. No Rolling Stones "Emotional Rescue" here. Nope only a real dick of a brain that is as smart as a dick. (Makes no sense)What have I had not enough of shit flying at me? I ramble on here as I have been waiting by the side of the road in my life and luckily (I thought) would have a second chance at the woman, which for sure I said I would never touch or love again, take another shot at my heart. No I did not get picked up by the family bus, I got T-boned by a truck which I should have known better was there. Too much emotion, not enough love. Damn it!! Why in the world is it so hard for people to understand that you only get one chance to grow the grass of your life, but have many times to cut it. Take a shot at it, change, trust, pass, fail, it's all an experience. But me I have to jump into the lion’s den and not see that I was ready but she is not. 

So the truck hits me and I don't complain. Hooked by the bumper, dragged along, and bouncing along the road. Yep that's me. Not driving the truck and hooked on by my belt, but wait. Wait  WAIT! There still is scenery and flowers and sun and snow and life going on as I get dragged along. 

Always me seeing the sunny side of the rock even when it is under ground.

Damn success as it is possibly failure

It was a settlement. It feels like the aftermath of the Paris talks during Vietnam and the Nixon bombing. Peace in destruction. Death with catapulting forward to end a mess which we just want out of. I want in and back, I capitulate with the thought of leaving my core values in place as my vintage mind thinks. It what I am is a man which keeps me here. Years I thought the only way of existence was the thought the opportunity to share my being, my love, my gift of giving, with another. I thought that I have found this. Although I am an inner man from an old age of strength, I must by no choice of my own live in this now founded world we call the present.   The core items my father taught me you must have: Food, Clothing and Shelter. He did no mention love or any physiological needs a man may need to survive.
I am back, the divorce ended with me begging and pleading with my one true love for the opportunity to live as one together. Share all, work together, live together, decide all together, keep some independence but love together. It seemed good and I broke down and fell to pieces in the process. There all over the place those pieces. Fuck what a mess. I am trying to hold it together. I bared all and it was in the breath of the cold man from the North's wintry blow. I can see that face from the old cartoon of the face in the clouds with the blueness. I drink more now. Hidden to the side like a man with flasks under the bed. I am never around anyone when I do and mostly late in the night. I find myself crying allot and it should be the other way around. I have given up myself to commit complete love to someone who does not love me for who I am. For this moment of being near her, smelling her smell, seeing the faint smiles at time to me is enough as I love her so. Being near my children, seeing them everyday. For this I have given myself away for a pound of salt. What I need or want is gone. It's hard to see it go but alas, I have forsaken my personal desired and dreams for the slight smell of perfume and a love who loves me not. When it tires I shall leave this earth by my choosing, not by it choosing me I have decided. There will be a time she leaves me as I am older and I have lost that confidence in her. She is not the love I married, she is driven by the immediate demons of this world and knows not any longer the true love we had. I now have dreams with moments of pleasure which I may find and of dying alone in a place of my choice with only the world of nature around me.
-

Ship on the rocks

Well my life has crashed. It's so simple to say this. profound, but heartless. An accident which could not be prevented. A bolder unseen. A tree in the middle of the road seen by all but me. I tried, gave it my all, kicked in the teeth, gutted, thrown away trash in one of those handy cinch sacks. Fucking steel promised bags, black and ghastly. I am drifting in the past somewhere on the fucking ocean, somewhere fateful and past my port. Captain I am, leader I was, steering with dead men in a storm. I don't care if we all die. Fuck I hope we all do. Drag their asses into the rocks Pour the rum pour into the our throats till it chokes the best of us all. I keep them following me into the storm, past the safe long route, past the chance they, or I for a matter of fact will ever see our loved ones. Damn it all, lead on, into the thunder of the night, darkness of death, void of light and the thought of survival. Take it to the bottom with me. All who dared to go this far and suck them into the main event. Here I stare, wanting and striving to reach the death and safety of the rocks. Here we are waves are great beasts hovering over my head taking to long to crash. The deck heaves, the wood showing it's fragility which seemed so strong under my feet. now.  I waited, not looking for the safety out of the tragedy, for what, a hand, a bit of love, a simple look, wanted need for my soul, but it was in vain. Waiting took my only chance away, worth it or not, it is gone. Damn you all. None cared. Sadly none watch to my knowledge.  She took my life soul and most of all my heart and foolishly served it for dinner to haggards and swines. I see the wash on my deck and the mast is gone and the sound of buckling members is a soothing sound. I was sorry for the voyeur's and crew of my once mighty life, but now it matters none,

It's been a little bit since I have been here

I have been on a hiatus away from writing and trying to figure out where I am at not where I am going.  Understanding certain predicaments in specific times in your life can be eye opening to say the least. I am in limbo. Love that word Limbo! It’s like you’re stuck between the “L” and the “o” and don’t know the right place to exit. I know I am here, I just don’t know how to end it with starting something up. If it’s like I am not making sense, for sure I’m not. Sense in the proper sense means you have to have a grip somewhere or it does not make sense. I’m not happy all the time and far from sad, I’m not divorced, but for sure this is not marriage. It’s been a year alone and then again I am not alone. Friendship only (damn my choice).I am such that Vintage Man and I can’t break my personal vows. But it’s not that serious, you just never know until you are intimate.

Sometimes I want to change who I am from the core and let some of what’s inside rot. I am afraid if I look inside it may already have rotted. 

The Jeff beck Group, The Faces and Rod Stewart and how he really screwed the pouch!

Well a recent purchase of The Jeff Beck Groups Truth, Beck'Ola, Rough and Ready (I already have the albums packed away somewhere by at a buck a piece what the hell) and my constant listening to Gasoline Alley by Rod Stewart, and albums by him with the Faces make me think?

What the fuck happened to Rod Stewart?  

Candy Apple Pussy Music happened. Sorry to be crude but I could not help myself. Actually what I want to say is worse because he flushed his ass musically down the toilet!  This was like one of the main freaking premo English blues - rock sound coming out of England.

Of course at that time we had other greats from John Mayall (moved to England early on from the states, Long John Baldry, Graham Bond, Cream early Rolling Stones to Led Zeppelin.

They may be faded out at times but they never really went over the cliff to POP LAND and made BAD MUSIC. Not with talent like Rod’s. Loose that talent for some blond ass and pink and red scarf’s tight pants. I could go on but…………..

Some things get under my skin

Lost between happiness and direction from a vintage view

I am lost between happiness and direction without a doubt. My extreme forward motion in this time thankfully is guarded by my core principles.  I would love to heavily date, have glorious sex and wake up with a woman next to me and have a true plan in life, but alas it is not yet. Soon to be casting off an old sinking ship is a small skiff; I will re enter this world like a newborn. There is opportunity, time, lust, pleasure, and pain coming for sure. I tow with me not a broken relationship, but the lessons of myself, my father and all before me. I was the last in the family name and have produced an offspring of male gender who is now his task to continue on the family blood line. I have given my all, although not always the best for others, but it was my best. Never mean, cruel or a soul who uses others as a stepping stone, I took the hard path and do not regret it. This firm path was on the strength of my forefathers and someday will just be a bit of dust left here on earth. I still can look in the mirror at myself with the proud stare I had when I started the mature part of this journey and do so with no out being scared of the future or my current surroundings.

I have someone who cares for me now, but I dare not shake my inner tree by breaking my cardinal rule for keeping faithful to the end of a relationship. Where it goes after it is very soon over, who knows, but it is comforting now to know there is someone solid who cares about me. Thankfully I can gather from my inner sanctum of lesson passed down from elderly gentlemen and ladies, pieces of this vintage past which I surround myself in and the feeling I have of the past in my blood to guide me. 

I guess Peace maybe coming at last.

"Bring Me the Disco King" David Bowie a Change of Pace for the day

Originally recorded in 1993 for Black Tie - White Noise and finally released in 2003 - "Bring me the Disco King"

Just a moment is needed sometimes to slow down the day

Stig Lindberg faience leaf bowl for Gustavsberg AB designed in the 1950s. Vintage man unpacks more.

Well another of the wonderful pieces I have acquired in the 1980's. This is a Faience bowl in the leaf pattern by one of my top 10 favorite designers, Stig Lindberg for Gustavsberg AB. This is one of those things when you are an ignorant young fool who does not know art from his ass, but he does know what he likes. Looking back at what I have passed up would drive me insane if sat down and went through it all. But hell, what is in the past is a fine memory of silk. This rare wonderful Vintage piece of European Ceramics id very fragile and has passed through hands to my steady hand. Soft earthenware bowl with white, yellow, blue and black glaze is a perfect find for the spring. This is one of my few enjoyments of this tumbling time in my life.

Stig Lindberg for Gustavsberg

Swedish National Museum Site

http://emp-web-22.zetcom.ch/eMuseumPlus?service=ExternalInterface&module=collection&objectId=104536&viewType=detailView

Johnny Marr Live in Detroit at the Magic Stick

Friday night I took my son who was turning 15 at the stroke of midnight and his best friend for a surprise concert in Detroit at the Magic Stick. They had no idea who Johnny Marr is (Lead guitarist and co-writer of all the Songs by The Smiths) or how good a performer he is. We get to the show just after is sells out! SHIT! OK now what are our choices? We left and on driving around Detroit I went trying to find something for two 14 year old to do. Well we could of went to see the Michael Jackson Prince Experience at St. Andrews. I don't think that would have made it a good birthday, memorable, not good memories, but is was a show.What do you do?
Back to the Johnny Marr Show I went!
I went in and have begged the doorman with no luck, prowled outside for scalpers. No luck. And then as it always happens to me I met someone from my past, those friends just keep appearing, and I got a little special treatment. 5 minutes later I went out front to the car and told the boys to get out we are going to a show.
The place was packed and the kids were definitely the youngest ones there. I got them up front and Johnny Marr was freaking incredible mixing in The Smiths songs with his own. "Big Mouth Strikes Again" was mind blowing and he ended with "How Soon is Now"
Great gift to my son and his friend which I topped of with tee shirts for both and a signed band poster for his birthday.
I think Johnny has some new fans..........

Johnny Marr - Magic Stick Detroit

Finn Juhl Model 45 Chair 1945 It's amazing what you can find in the garage!

Cleaning out the garage of old items and items not needed in this future life, I cam upon my Finn Juhl Chair. This "Model 45" chair was designed in 1945 and was a historic chair as it separated the seat and from the frame differently from chair of the past. Upside down on top of some other danish chairs, I had forgotten about it and it's purchase from a inner city dimly lit flea market in the 1990's. Water dripping down the walls and buckets catching it in other places, I rescued this chair and three Paul McCobb tables on the ugliest of days. What a find and and the rest of the day I was hopping around like a drugged rabbit.

Finn Juhl Model 45 Chair 1945

Regaining my footage and getting happy again

Ok, I think I am getting happy again. There are people who care and each one at different levels of thoughtfulness and compassion. Coming back sure has not been easy and I wish to thank all my friends for being true, full of compassion and for just being there. Where did they all the notion to contact me when I did not ask for help? I just don’t know how it happened, but I am glad it did.

Lost it all and now I'm back. I have a great warm feeling from my friends who have turned out to be closer than the phrase “extended family”.

I have always seen a light of optimism, but now the light is very bright and most of all I found I did not lose a part of me I was not even worried about, for if I lost it would have been fine, the ability to love. I am not looking for what I was when I was younger, the crazy lust, incredible beauty with the possibility of finding someone on my mental level. Well I took on a first wife which was a complete beauty (model) which was a major project mentally. It did not work and she went off the deep, deep end on drugs, never to come back as the person I married. My second wife and mother of my children is an incredible beauty, wonderful mother and very intelligent. She just wants to go her own way and I respect her for that. She loves me for sure; she is just not “In love with me” the way it takes to have a functional marriage. I understand it, I didn’t want to, but let bygones be bygones and move on. In all relationships I took care of everything (except we jointly raised wonderful children in my second marriage) and now I am done being the slave that I made of myself.

Just knowing I am fine, understanding my pasty relationships with the support of so many has enabled me to move on and give me confidence. I think I am getting happy again this Vintage Man.

MARCEL BREUER LONG CHAIR put away long ago. Early Mid Century Modern

Well moving some items I cam upon this Marcel Breuer "Long Chair" stacked on top of some chrome couches in my storage. It's been years since i brought this out and it looks like I might add this to the items I may sell. The design dates back to 1936 and was first manufactured for Breuer by Isokon Furniture. The one I have could be very early, but let's not estimate things like this when you REALLY don't know! Manufactured in laminated birch ply, angled back-rest and shaped seat of one continuous piece of moulded plywood with a thin cloth original upholstery which I purchased in the mid eighties. I a hard thing to part with, but sooner or later you can't be laid to rest in a chair.

MARCEL BREUER LONG CHAIR
DESIGNED 1936, EXECUTED Most likely 1960's or before
laminated beech and upholstery

Diego Rivera Parchment Paper Book with prints 1940’s

Digging through my items I came across the below Diego Rivera Parchment Paper book with 12 superb prints of Mexican Frescos. It has the original ties and is in excellent condition. Not your ordinary find in a pile of items I purchased years ago and just rediscovered. The prints are wonderful and show the feeling and Diego’s most important frescos over the years from the 1920’s through the 1940’s.  A real treasure which every time I look at it makes my mind travel toward his and emits emotions which are not explainable. En

joy as I do.

Life and the Gorillaz Hong Kong at the Fox Theater in Detroit

Sometime I get very melancholy and drift in my mind of to some other land. I lose my surroundings and replace them with a paradise and a world where troubles melt into the sunset. In these moments deep in my mind I drift off to a very quiet place and then it comes. The sounds of everything around e are amplified so that the sound of just touching a surface or the wind in my hair gently comforts me. In these moments the sound in my head turns to the music implanted in my head and very often it turns to the Gorillaz – Hong Kong. I went to see them with my son who was twelve at the time. The show was at the Fox Theater in Detroit and we ended up against the stage placed there by an unknown elderly security guard who just motioned us down from the 4^th row (outside the orchestra pit so not really the 4^th row). When they played Hong Kong I left the theater in an out of body experience and thank god when it was over I was still standing next to my son.

As this is a part of me, I must post this.

More support and love and caring from a fellow Cancer

Well this will be short, but I just had the best evening out in more than a year. Well there is nothing like some cocktails, conversation and a very supportive friend to give you a much needed shove. This shove opened up my own ambitions to get me to the next level. A friend of a friend who I knew for years casually and we finally hooked up and found we are both Cancers born in July and we are the classic givers going through life without taking anything. LIKE NOTHING. The hundreds of thousands I have given throughout my life and I feel like a dog waiting and waiting to get just one pat on the head.

Someone has given me the key to opening up my raw confidence not just the normal confidence which has gotten me through all the shit that has been thrown at me.

Amazing! I ended the night and the only thing I gave was my open heart and soul and what I received was the others heart and soul. It's been way too long for something like this to happen to me

SMILE

Who is this Mid Century Artist? The identification of art, something I do not know.

I have collected many items as a Vintage Man over the years which many have labels or clear signatures. There are items you pick up which were painted or crafted in a basement or beautiful surrounding by an artist who never sold or showed. They kept the art to themselves or their family or loved ones. They may have been a complete loner who placed the invisible barrier around them for whatever the reason. I have written painted, sculpted, photographed and built furniture of wood, steel and glass over the years and I am the only one who has viewed most it. Its personnel to me and when I die, who will know what I was going for or what is the composition about? I have a huge collection of books on the arts and their period which over the years have helped me identify the work, but many items are unidentified.  I was hoping one day to have that significant other with the some of the same “loves and hates”, but right now that does not seem possible.

Below is a painting which was a gift by a early 1980’ girlfriend/mentor which origin is unknown to me other than it came from Toronto and it means so very much to me.

Boston, the Marathon, The Bombers and Politics - What I am sick of!

I just can't shut up on this issue. Some whack jobs try and make a statement and end up killing and injuring part of the community which actually is proactive and uses their city and not abuses it. What turns out is we spend millions protecting the citizens for security and during the man hunt while the political worlds and the news media look at this moment as a opportunity to get into the spotlight or expand their careers.
Sick and we will not stop hearing about this as they all patting themselves on the back for the great job they have done and every angle they covered. Yes, the politicians, even the ones from the surrounding area (NOT THE IMMEDIATE AREA who are doing their public service), are giving news conferences and speeches and the news Media is going to interview a goat if it furthers their career or gets them better ratings.

I am sick of this bullshit 

But I am proud of:

The People of the City of Boston and the State of Massachusetts
Local Police
Hospital personnel
Emergency crews
Fire fighters
State Police,
SWAT teams
FBI
CIA, NSA, or any other three lettered agency
Outside agencies - State federal and non profits
The people who just came to visit Boston
Who served them all the food, who were just there to hold a hand, comfort a soul and who stayed
                  stayed when everyone fled and helped without asking.

The political aspect.
Spend all your words you political idiots on the right or left I don't care and work in your state legislatures and Washington and get off my TV.

The Media

Just shut up and stop playing the same thing over and over until the next crisis. You are NOT important and stop telling me your name before and after every report. I don't care. Do a telethon and raise money for the families of the dead and injured, but besides that, shut up.

The Vintage Men's Clothing and Ryan Gosling's new movie he is directing in Detroit

We here we go on a new trip off to somewhere unknown. I a meeting with a stylist for men's wardrobe for the "How to catch a Monster" film looking for period clothing for the new movie Ryan Gosling is directing. It will be very easy for me as I have a racks and racks of Vintage men's clothing and they are already working with us on the women's wardrobe. Rent, buy, credits or whatever here it comes, business and connections I don't know anything about.
One thing for sure, as much as I try to hide, there is always a new direction and opportunities all around me.

1950’s and 1960’s Swedish Ceramics Upsala-Ekeby by Mari Simmulson

My love of Ceramics runs core deep. My love of Northern European Ceramics is a huge leap beyond. It seems their techniques, glazes, shapes and figurative styles in Glass and Ceramics touches a solid part of me which drives me for more. We’ll more and more and more! This is from a 1980’s purchase from Toronto in which I was lucky enough to have the three pieces come together for a single buy. I think I looked like a rabbit bounding around the street after I got them. I bought some Charles Eames and a Bruno Mathsson Super Ellipse Table during the same trip, but these pieces made the trip worthwhile. 

Finding the Balance Between my Modern and Vintage Lives - Living in the the real Mid-Century, Eames, Woodcuts, Sculpture and Ceramics

I am perfecting the Mid-Century surroundings, internal Vintage Man that I am and the modern world around me.  Overwhelming confidence is building to a crescendo which I know no crest, no finish, and no end stop.  Finally I am in a situation of moving in forward motion with the confidence of the question of knowledge and the pursuit of a new beginning. Each step is forward and only small obstructions are in my way.

 As I dig for items and my way I am again comfortable in my own skin. This allows me to again deeply care for others and spend less time worrying about my fate and obliterating and sense of selfishness. I have always been a giver and I need not much from others. Crazy I know, but I have not found one in years who can read me and assume the equal role of giving to me, in kindness or in their actions and thing which you could call equal to my giving to them.  I do not require the equality, although many say I should demand it as I am easily used for my overextending kindness and compassion.

In this rearranging of my life I find objects and friends who fill this void, if indeed there is one. The objects are newly found from years back in my collection and the friends are coming out of the woodwork! Again friends this week came from out of town and went out of their way to find my newer surroundings and spend time in concern and celebration of our friendship. For this I love them like sisters and brothers and will be in their dept forever. It brings me back the pleasures, laughter, love and decadence we enjoyed. It makes me act more normal than a man in a classic tragedy in a Opera.

The objects  which bring me back are like new found discoveries bringing back the memories of their find and how and when I displayed them. Here are a few Vintage items to share.

Charles Eames from the 1950's with the original vintage rare "Cat's Cradle"  base

Wood Cut, Ceramics and Two Sculptures

Jumping off the cliff, selling Vintage and Soft Cell's Memorabilia

Well here I go. I have committed myself in deep here by arranging to start selling items at a very nice Flea Market on Sundays. Something I never thought I would do was going and set up. I am a consummate buyer of items of Vintage and now it’s time to start paring down the pile to only certain items of memorabilia. I love that word Memorabilia. The first time I heard the word was in late 1978 in New York at The Mudd Club while I was careening around the dance floor. I Bought the Import Single before returning to Michigan and played it for all in those deeply intoxicating days. The words fit me well as I had in the earlier year started collecting Vintage Clothes and Furniture.

And so it starts with the picking and choosing if the items of memorabilia which I will keep, gaze upon, covet and then pass down to my children. It’s exciting and violating to say the least, but I have a month to wade through boxes and storage areas to begin the dance of selling my Memorabilia.

Soft Cell - Memorabilia

part of the lyrics............

I collect, I reject
Memorabilia
Memorabilia

I like little bits of glassware
Ashtrays with inscriptions
Plastic things on pencils
Bits of mass production

Postcards, pretty pictures
Little bits of plastic
Covering up the bedroom
To show you I´ve been there
To show you I´ve been there

The very private Artist and friend Monica Molinaro

I know Monica, yep I do and I know her better than most men I bet. Maybe almost any man, for sure any man that I have met that know her. I have not been intimate with her, but I know her and she is one of the persons in my life who I can feel and not be closer than a thousand miles. I have experienced things, discussed things, seen things and participated in things which only Monica and I can and will discuss. Sometimes I think we have our own language and others I feel that her breath and what it speaks is my teacher. I always miss her, but hardly see her. Is that not the truth that persons say to each other at funerals.
They cry and cry and say they cannot live without this person, but they did. So I say shut the fuck up and say that you enjoyed their company, but you were too busy with the mundane things in life to spend some real time with the real fucker laying dead there. Where this when to I just don't know as you know this is my non grammatical and nonsensical blog for myself. What the hell does this have to do with Monica? I am surrounded by painting of Monica! They  are all over my house, in notes,, drawers, boxes and mostly in my head.
Her is some of her art, Monica Molinaro to share with you.

More from my friend Alan Sanchez

Forwarded to me from France during the last few years, here are some more paintings from Alan Sanchez

Detroit/French Artist Alan Sanchez

I have a friend and let's keep it as a friend, that I know what ever he has on his plate he would share with me. If my goblet is empty he would give me half and if I need shelter he would hold his coat above my body. He may also do thing which are sultry and wild which show the wonderful side of my artist friend. Alan Sanchez is one of those persons who is an artist. He does not try and be an artist or put on the artist face when he is in front of a crowd, he just is one. I have many mementos from items he gratefully gave me and others I have  acquired over the years which I will post as i love them. He is as happy as I in his last message from France, hard life but happy as his woman is with child. From me to anyone, Artist, and hopefully still my friend Alan Sanchez.

When all breaks loose, is it time to stop smoking?

Well I have done it! I put the devil sticks down. When all hell has broken loose and I am holding on to my ass flying through the air, I have stopped smoking. My crutch, pass time device, or should I call it the items which keep people away from me, just got too far under my skin. The problem is I feel great smoking or not. It’s not like it slows me down or I cannot breath well, I just overcome this with internal strength. It sucks, it’s killing me, and it smells like hell are just of the wonderful reasons to stop smoking, but that’s not why I have. The only reason I started was my wife smokes and it was something we did together. The shit you will do for others. Then once you get hooked, it becomes normal for you.  I stopped right after I separated (for months) and then we started having discussions and I bummed a smoke with her and then as always, you just buy your own pack. Well I am done with her and I am done with cigarettes. That’s it I said it and let’s just move forward.

Trying to stay away from 330.1401 Penal Code in my mind

OK, so I post allot, but as I have said, this is for me and I am almost sure this will only be read over in my mind and not others. It’s like putting a post on Saturn, no one has ever been there and when they do get there I will be gone.

Cracking up is the easy way out for those who do not have the responsibility I have no choice as I am the provider of many and the "Rock" that keeps them together. It sucks. Only I have put myself in this position. The Vintage Man that I am has to show the strength and perseverance to overcome all obstacles. This is one of the reasons my wife married me as she states. The "Man in me" as some would say. When all falls down, I must be standing. I have shown this through my life no matter how miserable it is or affects me.

It is not easy to keep it together when the gale force winds of pain are flying at me. The strength I received from my relationship is gone as I have been casted off. Trying to stay sane while drifting in and out of insanity with no help has turned into a difficult challenge for me I have gone to some counseling help, but in the end it just starts me thinking more and more and the reason I sat in the chair becomes irrelevant.

So I just read over and over and try to remember the Penal Code when I am alone. Those points are like dodging a truck, which as this Vintage Man I have done all my life.

MICH. COMP. LAWS ANN. § 330.1401. (1) As used in this chapter, "person requiring treatment" means (a), (b),(c), or (d):

(a) An individual who has mental illness, and who as a result of that mental illness can reasonably be expected within the near future to intentionally or unintentionally seriously physically injure himself, herself, or another individual, and who has engaged in an act or acts or made significant threats that are substantially supportive of the expectation.

(b) An individual who has mental illness, and who as a result of that mental illness is unable to attend to those of his or her basic physical needs such as food, clothing, or shelter that must be attended to in order for the individual to avoid serious harm in the near future, and who has demonstrated that inability by failing to attend to those basic physical needs.

(c) An individual who has mental illness, whose judgment is so impaired that he or she is unable to understand his or her need for treatment and whose continued behavior as the result of this mental illness can reasonably be expected, on the basis of competent clinical opinion, to result in significant physical harm to himself, herself, or others. This individual shall receive involuntary mental health treatment initially only under the provisions of sections 434 through 438.

(d) An individual who has mental illness, whose understanding of the need for treatment is impaired to the point that he or she is unlikely to participate in treatment voluntarily, who is currently non compliant with treatment that has been recommended by a mental health professional and that has been determined to be necessary to prevent a relapse or harmful deterioration of his or her condition, and whose noncompliance with treatment has been a factor in the individuals placement in a psychiatric hospital, prison, or jail at least 2 times within the last 48 months or whose noncompliance with treatment has been a factor in the individuals committing 1 or more acts, attempts, or threats of serious violent behavior within the last 48 months. An individual under this subdivision is only eligible to receive assisted outpatient treatment under section 433 or 469a.

Confidence in Sculpture - The Vintage Moment I have been looking for

Something remarkable has happened. I was finally reading the manual for my Nikon D3000 as I have so much time on my hands and something happened. I have a clay head bust which I just acquired and was working with the setting on the Nikon and I realized I could hide behind the lens in anonymity. This is my comfort level with no doubt. I have had a saying all life, "I am not for public display". I have always allowed all around me to take the credit or limelight. In our Vintage Clothing Store I have stayed out of the front of the camera lens, have no card, go to very minimal events, never gave an interview, always had my name hidden to most and never boasted as the “owner”. Never mind all the work I put in building the stores, the business is in my name, purchasing much of the product, paying for 95% all these years and always promoting my wife as the creator. I was in the Vintage world in the 1970’s, sold clothing in 1980 to other Vintage stores and lived in Vintage Clothing. I do not want praise or recognition for this. She is the creator, she lives it all day and in her dreams, it just is what it is. The dream and face of our store is my wife and she deserves all and I am most comfortable relish the background even if it puts me in the back seat with a blanket over my existence. I am happy proud of my wife, all her extremely hard work and happy she has found her dream and love even if her love and dreams now do not include me. She is a good woman who has not treated me rudely or incorrectly but, such is life.

So I completely realize I will not be the one in the front or face of a new Vintage business although I have piles of it which must go.

It was looking for a partner to do this with as I am inundated with pile and boxes of Vintage items. I almost went back to work with her to just to rid myself of the items around me which remind me of this long gone and past relationship. But, I have a new avenue with just looking through the lens of the camera at this clay sculpture. 

Mid Century Ceramics Lost and Found

As you sift through all your shit from years and years of collecting you’re often surprised by the finds in your own home that were forgotten. It's like going out looking for a day finding nothing, but, it was there all along under your nose. You just don't find items like these at a regular shop, home or flea market. They are gobbled up by someone trying to make quick money on Ebay who has no idea of collecting or real value. The bring it home and look it up and then price it like it was the most incredible piece ever. For me it was the experiences which these pieces bring back which warms my thoughts. I am not collecting to hoard or keep and never sell. It is my intention to pass it down or sell for the need of my children's higher education. I don't have to have these items, it's not a passion except in the surrounding of me understanding and researching the items as a lover of Vintage items and the world they came from. From these findings I add to my knowledge and carefully shape my world. I am not as careful as I should be no doubt. This is why the books which I own are my real passion. These vintage art and decoration books or even newer books with the decorative arts throughout them add to my thirst for knowledge. On a beautiful sunny day and share these with you.

Mid-Century Modern Ceramics

Sometimes you find something and you have no idea of it's origin or the past behind it's travels. This wonderful piece of ceramics has been in my hands for well over 20 years and that's all I can say. Found in the back of a room on a floor in an odd location in Indiana I found it by accident. The owner of the shop had not been back in that area for over 10 years, so it's at least 30 years old dating it back to the seventies.The owner of the junk shop (and I mean junk) did not even remember buying it. Bought for a pittance, it was my treasure of the day.I did not look at it long and at first I did not see the faces on the ends of the candle placements. I hope anyone who views this appreciates it as much as I and if there is an idea of the artist or background I would appreciate it.

Getting a grip and Vintage Guido Gambone

Sorry to myself for loosing senses for a while and sorry to anyone, most likely no one out there. It's funny but this is like my note pad in space. But the craft of darkness seems to be just to my right or left all the time. Today I turned and grabbed a picture of a piece of my Vintage Guido Gambone ceramic collection to share and use to focus my mind. I love his work so much with the solid heavy pieces with almost Mondrian patterns to this heavy buy more flowing vase with the dancing horses.  Please enjoy as I do.

The Death of a Best Friend and Suicide of a Remarkable Child

They have left us. One of my best friends and then his son are dead. It’s been a year now for my friend and only a couple of weeks for his 14 year old son, my son’s best friend, who hung himself. There is not enough space in my mind to completely comprehend this. I have placed my heart and soul in a small box holding this back from my loved ones. They are my family. I am the Nouno (Greek godfather) to their oldest son and their mother Nouna (Greek godmother) to my daughter. The First was Markus, who at 51 left us for reasons I will not discuss, nor do I have the information of why, as I refuse to ask. He is just gone found by his son Dylan who then took his life a month to the day later. They lived across the lake from me and we spent a thousand meal together over the years. My children at their house or theirs at mine all day or overnight. Their clothes left at my house, our towels from the lake at theirs. I found myself cleaning out the back of a closet last week of my son’s (which I should have cleaned years ago) and found shirts, socks and old birthday cards from Dylan. A remarkable child. No shit. An artist, Opera singer, fearless in love, play, humor, and speaking his mind and worst of all fearless in death it seems.

I have hid this from all, these feelings which haunt me, but putting up the strong front for others. It’s ripping me apart. I am sure I will discuss this again. I can only stand this in this open, but closed, forum of this blog for so long. I could not discuss this with my family or others and I cannot today. It’s not that I cannot feel for others and discuss this; I just want to walk in front of a fast train when I think about it.

A remarkable child, not to say others who have lost others were not remarkable, it’s just that he was a good child who did great things and effected all those around him in brazed and outrageously groundbreaking actions and words virtually every time you saw him. The week before he died we spent the day together in the Ghetto in Detroit as I introduced him to the realness and beauty of the city of Detroit. It was one of the best days I have ever had. I taught him all I could in a day, and that day I guess was his goodbye to me.  I cannot express my grief without the shear inability to even start to understand his mother’s and his brother’s loss. I cannot even start to feel in the open as the tender souls who are my wife and children were precariously ripped apart and alas, I am motionless in heart and robotic in motion around them. A monk has told me that I cannot help others when my wound is this deep.

I am done for the moment. I cannot reread this, so it may not make sense.

The loss of my will and determination and looking for wisdom in Buddhism Dukkha

It seems as I drift from intimate discussion to discussion with strangers and friends, I lose my conviction, my lust for my forward motion with cravings and taste with every step. As optimistic as I am, I am now driven in a completely asinine direction. As I cannot go back, I grip something else, not grim but not white or pure. Gathering of many cloaks and drawing of curtains, drifting into that quiet world it does not comfort. Why I am here, what I thought, dreamed, desired or required does not seem to matter. It is a true adventure when you do not know where you are going or the requirement of company, closeness or receiving love. The memories are all fading and what is left is only the items which I can touch, see and hear nearby me. A small old box, an old scarf worn by a NAZI in the war given to me by a regretful old man, a repaired cracked favorite vase which I remember one of my little children knocking over in laughter, it’s these thing vintage or just memories that are difficult to hold on to. It is only the thought and this thought is smaller than you imagine, of a pain caused to three I know, love and cherish that keeps it a thought. I am listening to a Brahms violin concerto and holding tightly on to just what is in the room around me.

It's Dukkha and for me to refer back to it again and again as long as I last a use this link.

http://www.ajahnchah.org/book/Understanding_Dukkha1.php