Raoul Middleman

This is my drawing teacher. He's a painter but I love his drawings. Yesterday he drew Bugs Bunny for us and even did a how-to for Dick Tracy. "You want me to show you how to draw Bugs Bunny? You go like this.. and the nose.. and do that for eyes.. the ears.. There you go." He tells us stories about living in The Bowery in his 20's and paying 25¢ for burlesque shows or peep shows. He notes, that he lovesss burlesque, back when it was an art form. He calls me a Hollywood Star. I don't know why, but he does. He's vulgar and loves eroticism. We sit for an hour in the library each class while he takes out books and tells us stories about what goes on inside the paintings. They blow his mind.

Raoul is old. The kind of old man that rambles on and on and goes, "HEH?" He's the type of old man I want to be with. I told someone that I'd love to be his partner/companion/mistress. Not in a sexual way (though I think it'd be a must to be with him), but I'd love to hear his stories all day every day. Like when he was at the Met and saw de Kooning in front of a Reginald Marsh, talking to a friend and swirling his hand around and around. Raoul said he tried to get closer so he could hear what he was saying, but by that time de Kooning walked away.

He used to live down on Baltimore Street in the, now, mini-strip club block or two when it was actually a much larger area. He said he'd have models pose for him and they'd sit still because they'd look out the window and see naked girls on the roof taking photos and playing with dogs.

To be young at that time is priceless. My youth is at the turn of the 21st century. To be young at a time when there weren't iPhones and text messaging and the fear of EVERYTHING. No matter how much I will live/am going to live.. I will never get to live like Raoul did. Not even close. This is when I feel too young.

First week: done

I've completed my first week of classes and I could not be more thrilled! My Thesis professor is a woman whom I admire: MFA from Columbia, young and hip with a whole head of salt and pepper hair, slight accent (French Canadian/Spanish?), intelligence up the wazoo.. endless. I also have a teacher who will be Skyping (too Sci-Fi for me) with the class for the first 6 weeks because she's in some far off land exploring.

Then I have an old fart of a teacher who grew up in Baltimore and has a Baltimore accent who went to the army, was stationed in Virginia, would go to DC and spend hours in the National Gallery teaching himself "art history", worked as a paige in a library, decided to fulfill his childhood dream of becoming a cowboy so went out West and worked on a farm, came back and went to Hopkins for philosophy, somewhere in there lived in France for a few years and knows EVERYTHING. The way he looks at paintings is amazing, with so much energy. More energy than anyone I've ever come across. How many professors do you know that pretend to be light and squiggle around in front of the class trying to bust into a paintings that have been scummbled as opposed to glazed? Amazing. Can speak all sorts of languages and is crude and says the F-word. Love it.

This is why going to a school that costs a bazillion dollars is worth every cent.

I leave you with this poem by William Butler Yeats titled Memory.

One had a lovely face,
And two or three had charm,
But charm and face were in vain
Because the mountain grass
Cannot but keep the form
Where the mountain hare has lain.

NYSP10

Ginny just posted a few photos on our group blog of photos from the beginning of the summer summer summer summer. And that is not Jake Gylenhaal next to me, that's Ginny's husband Colby. Hot fire.







This last photo sums up the entire program.

TGIF

I am officially done with this semester! End of semesters are always bittersweet. I am stoked that the papers and final projects are out of the way, yet I'm sad to see them go. I can go to school forever, but not really. To celebrate, The Dude bought me dinner at Mekong Delta and Oliver thought it'd be nice to go to Crabtown for after food festivities.





After Crabtown Matt, The Dude, and I rode the bicycles. We got ice cream and stopped by Hampden to see more boys. I am exhausted. But you know what? I haven't a care in the world!

[cue Alice Cooper]