Good Morning Rabih Alameddine

 by Gregg Chadwick

Good morning
Happy weekend pic.twitter.com/bU6Kc42wGO

— Rabih Alameddine (@rabihalameddine) July 29, 2017

Rabih Alameddine is a San Francisco based author whose most recent novel, The Angel of History,  is a masterful act of remembering. The scourge of AIDS ravaged the queer community in the 1980's. Alameddine honors the lost in his book that echoes Mikhail Bulgakov’s satirical, elegiac work The Master and Margarita. For those who have been asking me lately for book suggestions, these are both must reads.

Along with his literary work, Alameddine is a master at social media, especially twitter. If you are on twitter, follow Rabih Alameddine now. His feed is full of surprises, especially his engaging threads of artworks. Have a Happy Weekend!

Good morning, Velázquez pic.twitter.com/31wBaLrOrP

— Rabih Alameddine (@rabihalameddine) July 29, 2017

Saturday Morning at Gregg Chadwick's Studio 

Reading Jana Prikryl's "The After Party"

by Gregg Chadwick

I have been carrying my copy of Jana Prikryl's engaging book of poems "The After Party" with me for a few months now. Before I go out the door, I almost always slip the collection into an open slot in my bag. On recent travels from Los Angeles, to San Francisco, to Carmel, to Milwaukee, to Memphis - Prikryl's book has been with me. Each destination flavors my reading of her poems, almost like memory itself. And in a sense that is what Prikryl does in "The After Party". In her book we travel with her through a series of moments, or times, or places, or memories. Unlike many books where the narrator disappears into the text only to reappear as an overbearing Disney-ride like explicator, in "The After Party" Prikryl joins us on a journey through time. Memory can be like an artist's drawing full of smudged marks, erasures, and fantasies. Prikryl acknowledges this in her poems and lets us glide through her veils of time. From the former Czechoslovakia to the "Thirty Thousand Islands" of the Georgian Bay in the Canadian realm of Lake Huron, Prikryl creates worlds of time-images. I urge you to carry "The After Party" with you. Read it on the train. Find a favorite passage while waiting in line at the pharmacy. Share it with your local barista. The book is that good. Prikryl reminds us that a life is made up of moments, upon moments, upon moments.

Santa Barbara Elegy

Gregg Chadwick
Buddha of the Adriatic
24"x18" oil on linen 2014

My heart breaks for the families who have lost their daughters and sons during this weekend's senseless massacre in Santa Barbara. There is so much to discuss, to argue over, to ponder. But tonight, I will continue to mourn and ask that attention be focused on the six University of California, Santa Barbara students who were stolen from us.

A Toast to Hannah

Communicating the loss of a loved one is never easy. It is best done in person but words alone can also provide light in a difficult time. With deep sadness I have to send on news about the death of our beloved family member Hannah Johnson. Hannah passed away Sunday night in a traffic accident, and her husband Matt is fighting for his life in a hospital in Madison, Wisconsin. (Update on Hannah's Husband Matt: Matt is coherent, awake, conversant and stood up today!!)

Hannah believed deeply that all are created equal and that we all deserve an equal share of human rights. Hannah worked tirelessly for marriage equality in California and New Jersey. 

Pictured in this New York Times photo from 2009 is my courageous family member Hannah Johnson tearing up as she applauds a New Jersey Senate committee vote on a bill to legalize gay marriage. The struggle continues in New Jersey and in California

photo by Richard Perry / New York Times

Troy Stevenson, the director of Garden State Equality, wrote about Hannah's passing:

"This is a horrible loss for our organization, our movement, and many of us personally. The last time I spoke to Hannah was just over a year ago, on the day we passed marriage equality. She was my first call. I thanked her for all the work she and her team put in and we cried together about finally getting the votes we had fought so hard for. She told me then how much all of you meant to her, and how the work she did in New Jersey was the most important work she had ever done... That is the effect you had on her, she wanted nothing more than to bring equality to each of you, and to all of New Jersey. In the coming days, we will organize a memorial to celebrate Hannah’s life, and we will share those details when we have them. For now, I think it is important that we lean on each other for support. Some of you may not have known Hannah, but your fellow Garden State Equality members did, and trust me, she was one of the most amazing souls I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Those who didn’t know her would have loved her if you had, and those that did will love her forever...

As for me, I will never forget her; I will fight even harder in her memory, and I know that each of you will do the same. So, remember, when we win the freedom to marry, and we will win very soon, the first toast goes to Hannah."

For me, I am reminded by Hannah's passing to remember that we are called to take care of each other. Life is precious. Enjoy every second. 

And I know, with Hannah in mind, that I will fight for LGBTQ equality and human rights for all until the end of my days.

As an enlightened sage recently said to me, " Don't waste a single fucking moment of your life."

Love,
Gregg 

A celebration of Hannah's life will be held Saturday, May 25, 2013 at the First Unitarian Society of Madison, 900 University Bay Drive, Madison, WI, 53705. 

Hannah's family will be there at 4:00 to welcome friends and family. The service will begin at 5:00. Fellowship and light refreshments will follow the service.

The family is asking that in lieu of flowers, memorials be directed to "Hannah's Fund for Matt" 

at Greenwood's State Bank, 117 No. Main St, Lake Mills, WI, 53551.

PS  Hannah was about to embark on a new journey as a teacher at an amazing school in Baltimore, Maryland.

Please watch the videos below:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gGY-rwPefk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQgWNSBKq8k

More at:

http://www.capitalgazette.com/news/schools/annapolis-high-student-teacher-dies-in-wreck-in-boston/article_4d4cf885-914a-50bb-8a98-91a1f1402f8a.html

Hannah Marie Sinsky Johnson LeBlanc, June 28, 1983 - May 20, 2013

La Vita Trasparente (The Transparent Life)

Gregg Chadwick

La Vita Trasparente (The Transparent Life)
48"x36" oil on linen 2012

Inspired by the poem
La Vita Trasparente by Luigi Fontanella:

LA VITA TRASPARENTE
Luigi Fontanella

Apre la città le sue strade,
corrono biciclette senza persone,
alla finestra s'affaccia
e sparisce un volto di donna,
le vetrine offrono sessi
per ogni stagione,
giro di vite:
balla una coppia agile e magra
nella piazza deserta,
la corsa degli uomini,
agita chiome il bosco
in controluce,
passi su foglie
e solchi di fango duro,
viale d'autunno
carrozza regale
pioggia di rugiada
e di carta:
la vita trasparente.

The Transparent Life
by Luigi Fontanella
(translation by W.S. di Piero)

the city opens its streets,
bicycles go by riderless,
a woman's face in a window
appears then vanishes,
shop windows offer fetishes
for every season,
lives turning,
a slender agile couple dances
in the deserted piazza,
the race men run,
the hairy woods shivering
against the grain of light,
footsteps on leaves
a furrow of stiff mud,
avenue of autumn
royal coach
rain of dew
and paper -
the transparent life.

More at:
Luigi Fontanella

Fragility of Life: I Mourn the Loss of Artist Sylvia Moss

Gregg Chadwick
A Gion Rain
22"x30" monotype on paper 2011


I came home from a memorial service for a great artist and a great friend, Sylvia Moss, on Sunday night. In times of loss and uncertainty, I tend to turn to the arts - books, music, film, theater and museums - for solace. But when an artist is severely ill or dies I find that I have to create. I have been in my studio for the past few weeks creating monotypes. A monotype is a singular impression made from an image which has been drawn or painted on to a printing plate.

My monotype process is technically straightforward but pushes my artistic subconscious in both image and mark. When I painted "A Gion Rain" onto a copper plate, thoughts of Sylvia fell like rain across my mind. Sylvia Moss died in Zurich, Switzerland on May 9, 2011. Sylvia had long suffered from the challenges of multiple sclerosis.

Sylvia Moss grew up in Piedmont, California and then moved east to a beckoning New York City to pursue her love of theater, fashion, and art. Over the years, Sylvia studied at The California College of Arts and Crafts, The Art Student’s League of New York, Columbia University, and The California Art Institute.

Sylvia eventually returned to California and was Professor of Costume Design at the University of California Los Angeles in the Theater Department where she taught from 1973 until 1994.

Sylvia authored numerous magazine articles as well as a groundbreaking book about alternative materials used in costume design, Costumes & Chemistry, published by Costumes and Fashion Press.

I had the fortune to meet Sylvia Moss when the Santa Monica Art Studios opened in an old hangar at the Santa Monica Airport in 2004. She was a continual inspiration as she determinedly fought the ravages of multiple sclerosis to create her visual art.

Sylvia's experimentation with alternative techniques in costume design fueled her explorations in the visual arts. Her paintings are as much archaeological digs as two dimensional creations. Layers of grit, gloss, glitter and color marked her artistic path as Sylvia's paintings seemed to grow of their own accord in her laboratory/altelier.

Sylvia Moss
Meditation 8
22"x30" oil and mixed media on paper

As my fellow artists in the Santa Monica Art Studios will attest I approach brush cleaning as a form of meditation. Each day, I carefully clean the detritus of each brush's passing in a bath of cool water. Just before her final trip to Switzerland, Sylvia wheeled up to me in her motorized wheelchair as I bathed my brushes. She began to speak as if she wanted to tell me the meaning of life but then stopped and just smiled her remarkable, unforgettable grin. And with that smile, Sylvia said "Goodbye" to me. I will hold that smile in my heart each day as I create.

More at:
Sylvia Moss

Spreadsheets Can Save Him

Spreadsheets can save him
by Kent Chadwick

Where’s the pattern? What ratio will show
he’s getting better, that he’ll breathe again
on his own? The ventilator pushes
puffs of warm air through our son’s trachea
every time his brain asks for oxygen,
into his second set of lungs, damaged
too soon by pneumonia, scarred and stiffened.
The machine ka-shooshing eighteen or more
times a minute to make Luke breathe when he
needs, and it graphs his breath, reads his volumes,
scoring the resistance—centimeters
of water pressure—ready to alarm
and warn of dangers, displaying seven
variables in LED orange
with each breath, repeatedly—and I stare.
My hope has fallen to this new machine,
that maybe, maybe its gentler aid
can coax Luke’s lungs into recovery.

What numbers, what ratios show progress?,
something the doctors no longer expect.
Is it peak pressures to tidal volumes?
89 to 760
Or his diaphragm’s nerve activity
to the ventilator’s support level?
62, 70 to 1.5
What is significant? What is just noise?
So most every night at ten I write down
forty numbers, take them back to the room
where we are staying that evening—hotel’s
or friends’—enter them into tables, graph,
color, and label them to find something
that the intensive care doctors have missed
and I could show, “See this! He’s improving.”
Spreadsheets can save him.

But Luke gets annoyed
when he sees me staring at the machines.
He mouths, “Stop looking at those.” But he means
“Look at me.” He doesn’t hope in numbers.
And the truth’s blurted out, when Luke crashes,
by the respiratory therapist bagging
him, pumping up his oxygenation
with her hands, squeezing life into him for
another day, worried, focused on him,
forgetting I’m in the room, forgetting
all the euphemisms: “His lungs are bricks.”

What Does Loss Look Like? (World AIDS Day 2009)

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
-Maya Angelou

Twenty years ago on December 1, 1989 the first Day Without Art was held to spark dialogue and create a day of action concerning the AIDS crisis. At least 800 museums and galleries across the United States closed their doors, shrouded artworks or removed them from view as symbols of mourning and loss. The goal was to show that AIDS can touch everyone. And it worked.



Today on December 1, 2009 museums are again engaged in remembrance for those lost to AIDS and are actively marking the gains that have been made so far. In 1997 the day became known as A Day With(out) Art to reflect the force art can bring to the cause.



Today, A Day With(out) Art has grown into a international collaborative project in which nearly 8,000 museums, galleries, art centers, libraries, high schools and colleges mark the day.



The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York has removed from view sixteen artworks to mark World AIDS Day. The artists range from Duccio to Dali. And the subjects range from the young man Eutyches to Andrew Jackson. I have posted a few fragments of the hidden Metropolitan Museum of Art artworks as well as the Getty Museum's draped Maillol sculpture and, in memory of my friend Thom who died of AIDS, an evocative corner from a Buddha monotype I created.







More at:
World AIDS Day
MTV Staying Alive


Courtesy the Getty Museum

Thanks to Bill Roedy for reminding me of Maya Angelou's powerful poem:
Bill Roedy:Despite Huge Successes In HIV Prevention And Treatment, We Must Not Rest On Our Laurels

*Images courtesy the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, the Getty Museum, Los Angeles and the LOOK Gallery, Los Angeles

A Poem for Bombay (Mumbai) from Adil Jussawalla

Sea Breeze, Bombay

by Adil Jussawalla

Partition's people stitched
Shrouds from a flag, gentlemen scissored Sind.
An opened people, fraying across the cut
country reknotted themselves on this island.

Surrogate city of banks,
Brokering and bays, refugees' harbour and port,
Gatherer of ends whose brick beginnings work
Loose like a skin, spotting the coast,

Restore us to fire. New refugees,
Wearing blood-red wool in the worst heat,
come from Tibet, scanning the sea from the north,
Dazed, holes in their cracked feet.

Restore us to fire. Still,
Communities tear and re-form; and still, a breeze,
Cooling our garrulous evenings, investigates nothing,
Ruffles no tempers, uncovers no root,

And settles no one adrift of the mainland's histories.

(From the Oxford Anthology of Modern Indian Poetry)

When tragedy strikes, art has the power to connect. While searching my files for artistic connections to the events in Mumbai, I found the thoughts and writings of Amardeep Singh, Assistant Professor of English at Lehigh University, to be of great importance. Amardeep Singh led me to the work of Adil Jussawalla whose thoughts from a 1978 interview with Peter Nazareth still ring true:

Jussawalla was asked about the responsibility of the writer in times of crisis. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I think each writer will deal with the crisis in his own way . . . Maybe I see writing as an activity, at least for me personally, as linked up with a whole life, a whole sense of time. Indian writers do have a different sense of time in relation to their own work than the writers in the States, in England and in France, which means that we are bound to have a different attitude even to crisis . . . Am I being fatalistic if I say that for Indians, the crisis is perpetual?”

Gregg Chadwick
Walled Garden
48"x48" oil on linen 2008

As a global community, it is our duty to mourn with the families of those who were lost and also, as some will seek vengeance, to remind them that, as Gandhi taught, only love and understanding will eventually break the cycle of prejudice, hatred, and violence. It is my hope that these desperate and bloody acts in Mumbai will actually bring the people of India and Pakistan together in mourning and thus create a spirit of cooperation to battle a common enemy which preys on both states. Measured, calm, rational responses to the current chaos will help stabilize the region and the globe.

More at:
Amardeep Singh
Poetry International on Adil Jussawalla
Gandhi An Autobiography: The Story of My Experiments With Truth