Marvelous Joey made a marvelous trip to D.C. this weekend. We went to the National Gallery of Art.

This is Joey looking at Jackson Pollock’s Lavender Mist:

This is Joey looking at Jasper John’s Target:

This is Joey looking at a Mark Rothko:

This is Joey inside the Alexander Calder room:

‘Effing Barnett Newman:

This is Joey looking at a Frank Stella:

This is Joey looking at an Andy Warhol, his favorite:

This is Joey looking at a Chuck Close, closely:

This is Joey looking at an Anselm Kiefer:

Following the making of this photograph, Joey turned to me and said, “Marv, I truly believe that Kiefer wonderfully expresses the psychological landscape of post-war Germany with an aplomb physicality, vis a vis a textural weight and minimal palette that when presented on such grand scale becomes pregnant with an explosive power that is matched only by its elegiac tone.”

I agreed.

Please leaf through Taschen’s latest multi-volume set on Peter Beard, enjoy it, and then pack it on your sleigh on Dec. 24. I’d very much like to have a copy. Even though you are a creation of Western/European culture and you probably skip over the Dark Continent on your Christmas Eve ride, I’m pretty sure you know about Mr. Beard (but in case you don’t, I’ve pasted some of his works after the “jump”). And I bet Bono has told you all about Africa. Its kind of a big mess right now. Even Bill Clinton thinks so. I went to Africa once, too. I saw some giraffes and some dead people. Anyway, there is something about Beard’s collages, despite mostly being made in the 60’s and 70’s, that speaks to the current situation of the world and the crisis in Africa via the collision of images of overt sexuality, mass media and mass extinction.

Merry Christmas,

Marv

P.S. When you come to my house I will have cookies and milk for you. I know you already know, but just as a reminder - my stocking is on the right side of the fireplace. I have been a good boy this year, I promise.

(more…)

I sometimes wear my cactus coat
When I fear the people around me
Are about to get all sweet and kind
And extravert all over me.
I know how to hump my shoulders
And bend my head
keep my hands in my pocket
And examine cracks in the sidewalk
I am really good at it.
Sometimes, I am too good.
My act elicits sympathy
And a kind and curious word is hurled toward me.

If I am not quick to dodge it
I can get splattered
And the kindness gets stuck in my coat
Like warm, chewed bubblegum in a metal hair brush.
It is awful, just plain awful.
So I have to be careful, really careful
If you know what I mean.

—clothes make the man—