Jeanne Wilkinson

I arrive in Montauk in the frigid driving rain, but that's no reason not to

initiate the latest quest for the perfect wave:

Not sure which is better...

The next day dawns sunny but with a cool (cold) breeze off the ocean.

Frank and I are ready for anything.

Frank rocks his Chad Vader sweatshirt on the bluffs.

At Turtle Cove, someone has sculpted a stairway to heaven...

...that just one year ago was much higher than now:
2012 left; 2013 right.

Later, Frank watches a bunch of crazy kids spend all of three seconds in the icy waves.

Later we admire the rocks we've collected at Turtle Cove and watch a rainbow off of our balcony...

...while a bunch of crazy kids ignore it in favor of partying hearty.

The next day we go back up to the Point where a box is set up for used fish filament...

...so the cormorants and other marine species don't choke on it.

I see a number of faces on our walk:

Above, the monkey-profile hoodoo;

below, well, you tell me.

This rock, below, is two-faced, each of them pretty scary.

And this one is a relative of the Rapa Nui (Easter Island) folk, I believe.

I snap Frank at the rock with my new iPhone...

...and he snaps me, but isn't yet savvy to the iPhone protocols.

There is a lot of bright magenta seaweed lining the shore...

...that creates a Zen-garden effect around some serious rocks...

...and outlines the human presence at the Point.

This is an asphalt "road" that seems a bit bizarre.

And here is "Money Pond" - don't know how that particular name came about;

no doubt there's a story there.

Later I decide to go for a swim in the motel pool, yet am confronted with this!

It appears that "close" means 4PM in this particular case!

I can only gaze longingly at the azure depths that I am excluded from.

I'm forced to go down to the beach and walk moodily in the icy surf,

bemoaning my fate, or at least my bad timing.

Not such a bad fate, after all.

Our room takes on that 21st century look...

...but Frank snaps it back to the 19th century as he makes a plein air painting...

Whoa! Check out the mongo-mushrooms, purchased at Gosman's Dock.

Here I am, having a lovely time in our Montauk abode.

Hmmm, what's this gull chomping on?

Some good eatin' for shore!

I go for a walk in the sunset, and decide to go as far as the little black spot in the distance

before I turn back...

...which turns out to be a freakin' baby seal!

OMG! WTF!

I'm the only human on the beach! Is this an animal in distress?

It looks so sad and forlorn!

I call my sister in Minnesota and say, I'm on beach with a baby seal!

What should I do?

She says, call 911!

So I do, and their words of wisdom were, let it be, let it be.

Well, that didn't satisfy me, so, after having a nice chat with the baby seal,

who laughs at all my jokes,

I go back to the room and google "baby seal on the beach, Montauk"

which eventually brings up the Riverhead Foundation for Marine Research and Preservation...

and I finally get through to Daniella, who asks me many cogent questions

about its behavior and look, and says that it sounds like it's okay

and will be fine, but I still have dreams that night about

seals invading the beach being chased by a very special kind of marine wolf

who can swim!

I scurry out the next morning, hoping not to find it still there, perhaps run

over by a beach-roving beach rover, or attacked by crazed dogs,

but all I find is this bit of disturbed sand, with evidence

that the tide has come up to its resting place and spirited it away.

I thank the great ocean spirits who know more than I,

and go back to the room for our last fabulous, sunny day in Montauk.

On the way home, I see a line of cormorants looking for action in the roiling sea.

Later we hang on the beach and Frank attempts to use the iPhone to snap me in his fabulous beach chair, but turns things around and gets an unintentional self-portrait...

...before he figures it out.

The magic of serendipity!

We go up for our last dinner...

...shrimp on the Barbie...

...and figure out which rocks will go back

to the mother sea from whence they came.

All the ones on the right are going back,

the rest have made it known that they want to go to Brooklyn.

...and we walk into the sunset for the last time...

...until next time!

April showers bring May showers,

resulting in some serious bloomage.

This is the Kingsborough campus all a-flower.

Last spring saw me taking lots of Pratt spring pics that were featured in the school e-newsletter,

Gateway,

but, sadly, since I'm not there this year, Pratt is missing out on my camera's roving eye.

Well, not quite. Here's a shot of the tulip tree on the Pratt campus on the day of my visit to Sally Novak's new studio space in the ARC building, post-fire.

This is one of Sally's works in her new space,

a new direction altogether for her, using discarded printing plates

sewn together to form a reflective surface for the softly colored canvas...

...creating a topography of light that glows warm and cool,

an arena that brings to mind the ethereal skies of Tiepolo.

(internet photo)

And here's another pic of Pratt on that day, alight in the spring sunshine.

Back to Kingsborough, here's some of my own artwork, a couple of napkin-doodles

done during my class...

...perhaps inspired by the still life I set up

for my students with the two hard-working torsos that grace the painting and drawing studios.

They look much better in this picture than in reality,

where marks and cracks pock their no-longer-pristine white surfaces.

No sags or muffin-tops, however. They've kept their girlish figures.

Speaking of the ravages of aging, May brought us several birthdays,

and the death of an old friend.

My sister's cat Moe (below on the right), seen here with his bosom buddy Izzy...

...has run out of lives, and is now buried in Sherry and Brett's back yard.

Moe will live on in our memories...

(This photo taken last summer on the banks of Lester River where it flows into Lake Superior in Duluth, Minnesota.)

...and Sherry and Brett will get another baby-kitty so Izzy will know what it's

like to be the the older cat with a little fuzzy, mewling thing harassing you night and day

with its tiny sharp claws.

So the cycle of life continues....

...as it does with Frank, who is also a May Birthday boy, his on the 17th,

which happens to be Norwegian "Constitution Day" marking the date when Norway

began their quest to be rid of their "forced union" to Sweden (sounds nasty!)

after 400 previous years of being ruled by Denmark. Those Scandinavian imperialists!

Personally, I'm a three-quarter Swede, while Frank is a solid one-fourth.

Frank, however, is an equal-opportunity imperialist: Viking, Aztec, what have you.

Coincidentally, we went to the Scandinavian-themed restaurant Aquavit,

to celebrate Frank's birthday a few days early.

As Frank reports:

"Well, they were heavy into amuse bouche so we were able to taste a lot of things. A few: Langoustine and Cauliflower, Veal Sweetbreads and Celeriac, Arctic Bird’s Nest ( wafers made of tapioca and infused with mushroom essence), [seen above] Charred Gravlax with Shaved Fois Gras and Crescent Duck Breast with Fiddlehead Fern. And when they poured you a glass of wine, they poured you a glass of wine,

not a thimbleful."

As my sister Sherry said, "This is not my grandmother's Scandinavian cuisine."

Here is my "asparagus and beets, smoked trout roe, danish rye, nobis, spruce."

Nobis? No clue.

But the meal was art. I don't know what they did to the beets, but they were super-delicious, slightly tart with a crumbly charred surface. Here their remnants create a compelling ab-ex plate composition.

I document Frank's usual reaction to the restaurant bill (he did this on our first dinner date,

and has continued the tradition every brunch, lunch or dinner date thereafter)

but this time it's been altered to reflect his big May 17th, 2013 event.

This is our view from the window seat at Aquavit.

New York, New York, that toddlin' town!

Oh, wait, that's Chicago.

But Chicago doesn't have the rats that New York does!

Down the street, on 53rd and Park Avenue, is a

12’ tall Bronze Union Scab Rat manufactured at Polich Tallix.

These rats are usually not made of bronze, but instead are blow-up, temporary

creatures who sit in front of businesses who engage in anti-union activities.

(Internet photo)

I've seen them all over the city, staring ominously into the front windows of

their chosen stores.

(Internet photo)

Frank and I wander further down Park Avenue at dusk...

...to go to the closing ceremony of the Pratt

Senior show called "Flameproof" on a floor of 375 Park Avenue...

...which is owned by the famed Larry Gagosian, art gallery dealer of the stars,

who generously donated the space to the Pratt graduating class, some of who had all their

artwork destroyed by the recent fire, as reported in a recent post.

Just a few of the many participants:

above, Mick Junco

with his painting that speaks of free-floating dreams and visions guiding his hand,

describing an eerie reality that belongs both to him and to itself.

(BTW, this is why the professional photographer takes more than one shot, which I didn't do here,

which is why we see Mick mid-blink. Sorry about that.)

The amazing Miss Dingo, below, lost all her beautiful work in the fire...

...but she is an unstoppable artist with an artist's inner fire,

which trumps mere earthly flames every time.

This is Juliet Knuth with her complex and uncanny biomorphic drawing

which speaks of connections, evolutions and devolutions...

...not unlike the writhing "Last Judgment" forms

in the Sistine Chapel...

...Juliet lent me her awesome mask for my Solstice filmings,

which will be featured in the video for my show at Trestle, opening June 21st...

...but before we talk more about me, me, me, here are some more

artists and art:

below, Hannah Yook at her Pratt senior show

with an eclectic hanging strategy for her elegant, gridded collages...

...and Susan Luss who shares the space with Hannah for her senior show.

Susan uses found objects, dyed cloth and painted elements to create painterly installations that she never imagined in her first months at Pratt, drawing in materials and forms from multiple arenas.

Her work seems to be infused with a kind of kinetic tension,

not moving but with a continuous sense of motion,

balanced between being and becoming.

The changes in her work were partially catalyzed by the shock of the fire,

but they also seem to be the natural result of the probing, curious, open, pioneering spirit

that guides her life.

Here she is with the woman who first suggested that she go to Pratt

to pursue her dreams, Juliana Terian, founder and president of the Terian Foundation

which provides financial relief to families and children in the New York City area, and also

sponsors the Peter Terian Fine Arts Scholarship in honor of her late husband, to

"encourage students in their artistic endeavors, instilling in them the importance of original vision, creative diversity and their continued attention to the culture of their world."