Sunday, July 03, 2005


Golgotha
(c) Roberto Isaza


Today (sat, july 2) I was stopped by a team of undercover cops ... I was taking pics of pigeon nests, shadows, and light posts at the New Dorp train station in Staten Is. Of course the terrorism thing (after 911 anything/everything goes as a reason to stop and harass you). They asked me what I was taking pics of, and I said, of course, shadows, light posts and pigeons ... they asked me for id and showed them my driver's lic (expired in 2002), asked me for more since it's expired ... I said 'aint got none, but I'm still the same and since it's not a driving violation. Anyway, they made a report, hey, the law against taking pics on the train is gone. They know, but expect you don't. That's why they didn't give me a sumons. While his partner was going for the pad, the cop who stayed asked to see the pics, then seeing my Golgotha pic he said, I never would have thought to look at it that way. ‘Course, bub. That’s an artist’s job, to show you what you can’t imagine or what you walk by disregarding the beauty around you. There are the 3 crosses, what else to say? Are ya' gonna crucify me?

posted by Rob @ 11:23 AM   6 comments

6 Comments:

At 12:09 PM, Blogger elvira black said...

Rob:

You go! What a story. Great pics.

Great point about an artist showing others what they see around them that others don't. Sometimes there is also beauty in bleakness, or even "ugliness,."--or death itself. This is why my b/f BG and I adore the work of Francis Bacon. No way to adequately explain it; just have to "be there" and see his work for yourself on the web.

BG also recalls one of his many hospitalizations for a combo of depression and schizophrenia. There was some sort of therapy group, and the therapist asked him what he saw when he looked out the window. BG said he saw a garbage dump in the distance, and other sights which one could associate with chaos and despair. The therapist said that when he looked out, he saw a bright blue sky and flowers in the foreground.

BG replied that sometimes the "ugliness" exists to contrast with the "beautiful." Like when you see an ad with a beautiful young model who is posed against a crumbling, graffiti scarred brick wall. The "ugliness" of the background only adds to the beauty of the foreground.

This is in part what I see here, among many other things--the impossibly beautiful sky, contasted with the stark fence and telephone poles, and your unique interpretation of them. I'm glad you shared this vision.

PS--What's Staten Island like? Do you enjoy living there? Curious, because I don't have much knowlege about that borough.

 
At 11:32 PM, Blogger Rob said...

Ahhhhhhhhh, where to start?... OK, thanx for the comment, Elvira. Yes, the artist’s job is to transmit the feeling/idea to those who wouldn’t have thought otherwise, and yes, it’s not just the beauty, remember the LIFE’s sprays on Vietnam? Amid the beauty of the jungle, the terrors of war, napalm, civilian fear, our boy’s nightmares come to life. So you can be selective and see only beauty or only ugliness, but what a blessing to be able to see both and know the difference. It's good to get on the net and find that someone has come by your place, had a cup of java, listened to some tunes, and left a Hi! message. That's how it used to be when I lived in the Caribbean. No lock on the door, someone would come by, wait for a while, have some coffee, some tunes, and if you didn't get back before they left, they would leave you a note. Anyway, Staten Island.... hmmm, first off, the best scenic ferry ride in NYC. One hour on the water for $OOoo! And they say nothing is free... Last night, on my way home, a couple from midwest asked me about places in NY, Chinatoon, family owned Little Italy, and the ferry ride to Staten Island. They worried they might get stuck in SI without a way to get out except the +or- $60oo cab fare. The ferry rides all night, I said to which I added, you can get off on SI go through the terminal and get on the next boat to Manhattan. They were pleased and got on. As to why Staten Island... I was born in Brooklyn, went to live in Colombia, SA, when I was 6, came back to NY in ‘88, and lived with my mother for 8 months. Got a job teaching English and Spanish at Berlitz where they pay their teachers crap, but it was a good job while I got another job teaching ESL (English as a Second Language)at American Language Communication Center (ALCC for short). While still at Berlitz -60 Broadway- I was told that the SI ferry ride was just a quarter, for an hour ride a bargain, so during my downtime in December of ‘88, I took the ferry, it had snowed 3 days prior and of course, the snow was already shitty black in Manhattan, when I got to SI the snow there was still pretty white!! A definite plus. In February of ‘89, I was already working at ALCC and had an if not decent, at least a stable paycheck and decided to go home hunting. I could afford $500 the most and what I could get in Brooklyn for that price was a basement apt. Geez! To share your space with a boiler and have those itty bitty windows on top of your wall watching people’s feet walk by, -remember, after 9 years in the Caribbean with nothing to block your view to the horizon ... even a wall across the street is insulting. ( I was telling this the other night to some people I met at an art exhibit inauguration in Queens Town Hall, and one of them, Damian, a guy who works at a hospital in Manhattan looked very sad, he lives in a basement). So off I went to SI, found a Real-estate and got my first Studio. Anyway, this got longer than I thought it would, in a nutshell Staten Island is the closest I want to be to New York and still live in a quasi-country setting.

 
At 12:55 PM, Blogger elvira black said...

Rob:

It's funny how boroughs in NYC change. My boyfriend BG lives in the Bronx; I have a place on Manhattan's Lower East Side that I co-own with my ex-boyfriend. I also lived on the Upper East Side for 12 years, and I was born in Queens.

Since we will be selling and splitting the proceeds, I started to think about Queens or the Bronx. Of course, Manhattan is not possible unless you're Bloomberg, though it used to be quite a rough and ready place, esp. in the 70s. Midnight Cowboy, Panic in Needle Park, the Prisoner of Second Avenue, The Out of Towners, etc.--Manhattan used to be only for the brave and poor who couldn't afford digs elsewhere.

But now, look at it. Thing is, I don't really dig Manhattan that much anymore. Although the outer boroughs are not really rural, they do seem to have retained more of that individual, peaceful flavor and unique charm. Manhattan just seems like one vast skyscraper now --super crowded too. So I'm perfectly happy to consider places in Queens and the Bronx, some of which have already become hip, or else are turning boho on their way to turning into yuppieville.

Even the SOUTH Bronx is becoming happening, with artists and other "culture vultures" moving in. Hard to believe. But the LES place I have used to be a no-man's land too; now it's one of the hippest areas in the city, with prices to match (though I think it's still a relative bargain for Manhattan).

Go figure....

Well, sorry to go on and on. Just can't resist talk about NYC housing--one of the fave topics of all New Yorkers!

 
At 7:37 AM, Blogger Rob said...

Yup, Elvira. The city is an entity that morphs through its inhabitants, what was once hip is now hop, and what once was blah is now Wow. Warehouses turning to lofts, whorehouses turning to mickey mouse wonderland, go figure.

 
At 9:25 AM, Blogger Preston said...

Wow!

I totally missed the 3 crosses. It really does take the artist's eye to spot the extraordinary in the everyday.

Strongly reminds me of the single day I spent in jail (Praise Allah for lawyers!):

I was in the holding cell with a man named John Doe. His crime: taking pictures.

It seems that this criminal genius had invented a new "tripod" for taking high-speed, infra-red photos at night. While testing it out, he snapped a pick of a Sheriff's cruiser. His invention happened to look like a rifle. The pigs did not like that.

While harassing him for minding his own business, it was discovered that he did not have any ID (a wise precaution). That's a vile offense.

I met him on his 3rd day in lock-up. We all laughed as the guard came to release him with the call of "John Doe!" No ID, no fingerprints, no crime. Drats! Another innocent gets away.

We were released together, and as we lit up a fatty outside the barbed wire, he revealed to me that his name really was John. LOL

 
At 3:19 AM, Blogger Rob said...

I've done my time in precincts in Colombia, where they can lock you up to 72 hours without reason. I always had my ID+ military service card, but had long hair a beard and didn't wear a monkey suit. They never caught me with funny smokes or any illegal substance ... I was there just to fill their quotas. Well, we are not a police state ... yet, but we are well on the way. A couple more terrorists attacks anywhere and our friends in blue will have their excuse.

 

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