October 19, 2011 – Divine

Today would have been the 66^th birthday of one America’s greatest actor’s, Baltimore’s Glenn Milstead, who most of us know as Divine.

I own and love most of Divine’s films, the ones by John Waters as well as Paul Bartel’s Lust in the Dust. I still have my original, the good one with photos, Odorama card from the original release of Polyester. I took friends visiting from Sweden to see that one and they still haven’t recovered. The day Hairspray opened in 1988, I left a post-it on my computer saying I was “running errands” and with a few other delinquent co-workers we took in a lunch and a matinee premier. It was all of a week later that we were shocked by Divine’s sudden death.

I love corrupting young minds with Divine. Don’t worry — I wouldn’t start with Pink Flamingoes. When my cousins were just 12 and 14 they came down from Washington. They are from a small town on the Columbia River just far enough from Portland to be close to Mortville. Ten minutes into Hairspray I had to pause it and explain the historical context. My cousins knew virtually nothing of the history of the civil rights movement. That says something about the quality of education in Clark County, Washington. Soon after that my 12 year old cousin Thad was suspended from school due to his “disruptive” hair. It was a bit of life imitating art up there (today he’s a former juvenile delinquent and punk rock star now – Divine would be proud). We finished off the weekend with Serial Mom and Pecker. Call me a bad influence. I should also mentioned that Divine was such a brilliant actor that the boys had no idea he was actually a man. I stopped the movie halfway through and told them.

One of the things that strikes me about the passing of time, is the way one can end up doing something in the present that would have been hard to imagine years before. 18 years after Divine’s passing I found myself at 7940 Hollywood Boulevard. A work colleague casually mentioned that he lived in Divine’s old apartment. As soon as I got down to Los Angeles I headed straight there.

The first thing that made me laugh and grab the camera was the sign in the courtyard reading Please Clean Up after Your Pet. The building was one of those groovy two-story, courtyard apartment buildings so typical of Los Angeles. It was about to be torn down to make way for something ugly and bigger. I knew I wanted something old from the apartment and I decided to take all the light switch plates. I had a stack of new ones to swap out – my work colleague was concerned about getting his deposit back – even though they were about to tear down the apartment building. He was probably right.

My intent is to use the switch plates for a Divine Light art project — I still have them and will one day get to that. On that morning, I got out my screwdriver and went to work taking the old switch plates and replacing them with new ones. It was going quickly until I got to the kitchen. I was by myself in the kitchen, and try as I might, the screws wouldn’t come loose in that last one. Finally I turned around and said aloud, “Okay Divine, you’ve looked at my ass long enough, let me get this done.” That was all it took and the screw came right out. And seriously, all the laughter Divine has brought me, I didn’t mind his ghost checking out my ass one bit.

May 30, 2011 – Bookshelves

If I am visiting someone’s home, I often like to get a look at the bookshelves. If you really want to get to know a person, their bookshelves are a great place to begin. There are some people who are heavy library users or they just don’t hang on to books. And then, there are those who, it’s hard to imagine, don’t read. You can learn a good deal about what I am interested in, where I have been and where I like to go by perusing my bookshelves. But I too am a big fan of the library, so it’s not a complete story.

I have always lived surrounded by a lot of books. I grew up in a Victorian house that my parents particularly chose for its large wall of built-in bookcases. Every home has always had walls and sometimes piles of books. As a kid I can remember the occasional visitor who would always look at the wall of books and say something inane like, “Has someone read all these books?” A question like that always tells you who you’re dealing with.

(I figure I am hurting no one’s feeling by this point, because people who don’t read books would have never made it past the first paragraph).

All of the images for today’s piece for the 2011 Project came from my own bookshelves. My work often is oriented in grids so constructing the images this way is expected. About 10 years ago the SFMoMA did a Sol Lewitt retrospective. My favorite part of the show was his series of very personal, autobiographical photos. He had photographed every day objects in his home and studio and laid out the square photos in 3x3 grids. The series included things like what was on the kitchen windowsill.

Sol Lewitt’s series reminds us that, as an artist, the best way to construct an autobiography may not be the written word. Last week I had some friends over to see the 2011 Project “in progress.” They got see the 140+ pieces on the wall in a big grid. As we were deconstructing and discussing the work it became clear that even though I am creating a map of the year, the work in itself is also an autobiography. It reflects the present as well as the life so far that has lead up to this point. This is especially manifested in the way I am using bits and pieces of things I have been saving for decades.

So, to get to know me, start with the bookshelves.

And always remember the words of John Waters —

“If you go home with somebody, and they don’t have books, don’t fuck ‘em!”