I'd had a motorcycle accident during high school. When I say motorcycle I'm being romantically generous. I was riding pillion on the back of a Honda 60 after cutting class to go hang out in Yorkville and was returning home in rush hour traffic doing a heady 10 mph when the Honda was clipped by a car making a dodgy left turn.
My friend Lynne Milgram would chauffeur my invalid self around, squeezing my ankle to thigh cast into the shotgun seat of her father's Buick and we'd hang out in Yorkville, being cool during the beginnings of the hippy folk era, sitting on stoops, watching people walk by.
If you look carefully, you can see my film debut in the NFB film Flowers on a One Way Street some of which was shot from my window overlooking Yorkville Ave.
But the insurance settlement from the accident didn't come through till after P and I were married a couple of years later.
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Oh, well.
When we returned from our innocence abroad, we moved into a house that Lynne had rented near the Ontario College of Art and shared roof and expenses with a varied group of other delinquents mostly art students or actors.
Lynne soon took off for Europe and Asia and other people moved in. One or two nutty nut-bars over the next four years, but mostly a pretty good and talented bunch like Barbara Astman and David Powell and Paul Harnett.
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This afternoon we went to an opening at the David Kaye Gallery tied with a book launch and party at the Drake for Klunder's book:
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The reviews have said wickedly funny, and while she's been published before as illustrator, this is her first solo book. We were happy to be there and toast her success. Klunder's friend, Paul Harnett dropped by. Small world.
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All worlds are small worlds aren't they? Art worlds especially.
I still wouldn't want to paint them. But I know people who would.
1 comment:
Wright's quip is funny, but inexact as to whether he meant paint it in the cover it entirely with paint sense or the create an image of it sense; the general impression is of the former, I guess.
However, since I can't picture you in whites with the ladder, I'll say "Put on your smock and beret" Yank - my sister's friend invited me to go to the launch with her, telling me I'd love the book. Now I'm sorry I declined! We could have rubbed shoulders sooner rather than later.
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