Ed Smith Rocks

 

America's Tattoo Master, Mr. Samuel F. O'Reilly, trained Ed Smith along with Charles Wagner in the 20's and 30's on the Bowery in New York City. Bums, empty bottles and the elevated train ran the streets back then.

We have all seen photos of tattooed people but not too many self portraits of the tattoo artist sporting a tattoo. 

The imagery depicts a maiden in distress clinging to a cross shaped rock as the prow of a ship goes under, pummeled by crashing waves. 

The idea probably serves as a reminder for us to keep the faith, no matter what. Kind of the like that 'Hang in there Baby' cat poster you always see in dentists offices. A lot of us would rather have Rock of Ages tattooed on our backs than ever see that poster again.  

As a symbol    "...'Rock of Ages' which, as is well known, protects the tar from all general mishaps..." From Tattoo, Secrets of a Strange Art as Practiced Among the Natives of the United States, Albert Parry, 1933.

Looks like Ed had fun with this one.  His most cool version of the classic, almost pagan, symbol of non-drowning; a pig. Usually tattooed on a sailors instep of the left foot, because, as everyone knows, the rooster goes on the right. These are the two animals that can not swim. It's a form of reverse good luck, like Born to Lose for bikers or Break a Leg for the theater crowd. Wearing this symbol not only acknowledges the danger but controls the luck.

Ed Smith went into commercial production with designs of some of his most popular images. Many thanks to Cliff White's good eye as he spotted this correctly as an Ed Smith design even though it's signed "Millie." She may have colored and re-inked parts of it as they worked closely together on the Bowery. This sheet looks like it's been through the ringer but it's a survivor. Not many are still around actually signed by legendary Mildred Hull.

All Tomorrow's Parties

We went down to the Bowery or maybe the Lower East Side last week. That's the area near Orchard, Ethridge, and Chrystie streets. Our old memory of that area is dropping an inebriated drummer named Walter off at Ludlow and Stanton, a crime and drug addled corner.  All changed now. New galleries, restaurants, and a nice small ad agency with bikes in the window. The rents must be ok.  The biggest surprise was meeting some happy people in business. There is one place with cool books in the window like a library. We felt we could ask why and were told why in a nice way. Forgot now, maybe a publisher of some sort. 

But it was pleasant to chat with the owners about the spaces. In another gallery space we asked why is this room all white with nothing up? "Not all the time, but it's kind of nice don't you think?" came the answer with a smile. Berlin was like this five years ago. Gallerists would walk out from behind their desks and cheerfully talk with you. So was the East Village of long ago. You could sit and visit with Pat Hearn or Colin de Land in Vox Populi with it's dirt floors, peeling paint, and elegant chandelier. All Tomorrow's Parties played on an endless loop. 

This new gallery area seems different. They don't seem to be Bohemians, just young people working and enjoying what they do.  All is possible, they say. But avoid the Bowery which not so great. The New Museum is dreadful, the restaurant supply houses lining the street are much more interesting. The Poetry Club is unfortunately gone now. Some commercial galleries scream "over here!" from the windows. And you have to look both ways and run if you want to cross over the street.

Here is Lesley Heller and she's a gallerist, probably well known. She's showing some paintings of squiggly lines drawn over where the head should be in a portrait. Nice pieces. And she talked about art fairs, auctions and artists in the most open and friendly way. Which was a very pleasant surprise. We have all become used to deep-freeze Chelsea.  Stop, we say.  Enough of art storage vaults, cement floors gleaming in a morgue-like polish. Embalmed gallery assistants, heads down, slowly and mysteriously poking away at keyboards . Never look up! Says the Chelsea Gallery Assistants Training Manual.  

Portrait of a happy art dealer. Lesley Heller Workspace, currently showing Deborah Brown "Outer Limits" until March 9th.

 

Flames

 1. New Directions in painting . Artist Tom Christopher and hot rod pinstriper Chip Welsh work on a painting incorporating the Empire state building, pin up girls, femme fatals,  the classic wolf call all swirling about the flames and Mexican day of the dead skulls in an underworld painted with home depot blackboard paint. Melding Hot Rod Kar Kulture with classic tattoo symbolic imagery and New York City. Another sap walks off circled by a flame on girl and a Dear John Letter held dear in a swallows beak.  These are interesting says critic Armardo Guiterez. I don't think these guys have any idea what the painting will look like when finished. Seems like an exciting way to work.'

Bowery Folk Art Sign

The Bowery (where this piece is from), is definitely a place where people could use some good old fashioned salvation from Jesus. Just take a look at our new favorite book, “Flophouse, Life on the Bowery”, a collection of short stories about the people living in skid row, written by David Isay and Stacey Abramson. You probably don’t know what a flophouse is, because they barely exist anymore. It’s a hotel, but not your typical Four Seasons or Marriot. These places will charge $5-10 a night and have mostly long-term stays. This metal piece stayed lit in the hallway of a flophouse, to provide some sort of salvation for the customers.

These two documentarians went to the flophouses and interviewed some of the fine connoisseurs of these establishments. Take a look at what these gentlemen had to say:

“I started sniffing glue when I was ten. There were these kids from Brooklyn that I was hanging out with, and they got me into it. I’m pretty sure it gave me brain damage”

“Now I have a little bit of a weight problem. It would never seem like I’m 425 pounds, but I am. Sometimes I knock off a 26-ounce can of Chef Boyardee ravioli. That’s for five people in the family!”

The stories go on and on. Sadly, these flophouses are closing, and will soon be a part of history, along with this cross.