Here's a long post, so long---I promise, I won't impose this way again. My apologies, and my thanks for this forum, in advance. .
No longer to see that ruined face, as I have seen it, off and on through a loop that has now stopped: At the back of "the house" at a professor's play done at wooster st.; at an early desk reading--I remember resenting the implacable image of "man at the desk talking about himself." Coming and going, walking, down through the years of New York---outside the "bad museum," on the bowery with shafransky in '87, to the monstrous box, which I didn't really find funny, only brackish, like my own family's peculiar humor, and sad.
In early December, I passed Gray and some of his friends walking down 1st Avenue, seemingly in fine fettle. I looked at him, and he returned the look, as he always did: I think it was a theatrical impulse, since although I had seen him around often throughout the years, I never knew him. In the past, I had seen him gaze back with either intense and impersonal amazement, or with a glance of acknowledged common humanity. In December, I observed the look of doubt, and I thought, "oh, but he's better now. . ."
If I continued to search, I'm sure I could come up with better poems to use instead of my own clumsy voice. I'm posting one by W.S. Merwin (before he got "soft"), and one by Wallace Stevens, both fellow New Englanders.
Beggars and Kings -- W. S. Merwin
In the evening
all the hours that weren't used
are emptied out
and the beggars are waiting to gather them up
to open them
to find the sun in each one
and teach it its beggar's name
and sing to it It is well
through the night
but each of us
has his own kingdom of pains
and has not yet found them all
and is sailing in search of them day and night
infallible undisputed unresting
filled with a dumb use
and its time
like a finger in a world without hands
Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock -- Wallace Stevens
The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches Tigers
In red weather.
you should impose on us more often.
Thanks Bunny.
Anybody ever meet him? I've read some about him in the past few days. Very interesting. Seems to have held a strange position in relation to the NYC art scene. I guess I dumbly thought he was "just" an interesting writer I hadn't gotten around to reading yet. But apparently he was more complex, and confusing, than that.
What exactly was he? (Pretending it makes any sense to ask this sort of question, or to answer it...)
Jim--
In my dour and nasty "sick-itude" today, I said that my reaction to Gray's work was "tepid at best". . . that's pretty much true for most of what I've seen of his, but NOT for "Monster in a Box"-- staged or film version.
If you haven't seen it, check out the film of "Monster in a Box." There's a filmed version of "swimming to cambodia" too--and that's kind of interesting because you get to see his style, and you can see him do his genre of personal monologue, remembering that he was one of the first to do it---but other than that STC is kind of "overpumped."
"Monster in a Box" is the best one and kind of shocking--its humor/horror holds up even nowadays, when we've already heard all the confessions of abused and abusers around the world.
Thanks. I haven't seen it. I will check it out.
He was an entertainer & a minor, does not mean unimportant, American intellectual. I met him one afternoon with Terence McK at the notorious Naropa Institute in Boulder Colorado. A truly charming man with alot of nongoogly admiration for the notion of a seriouly psychedelic intelligensia. Good by Spalding, please remember to eat your shrooms. That goes for everyone.
I should clarify my post--The sadness of Spalding Gray's death for me resides in the terrible circumstances of his depressive illness, complicated by a severe head injury he sustained in an accident in 2001, and his struggle with these, as reported by the press. He was a walking landmark around downtown new york, as he walked a lot around the town. So, for me, not seeing him anymore walking down the street, is just another sign that time is passing, has past.
I always thought that Gray's work was overrated. But sometimes there was something surprising about his continuing ability to draw material from his self-absorption, to perform it, and to keep people interested. I wouldn't think about reading the stuff, because I think it's so tied to his performance of it. My interest in his work was tepid at best, and I lost interest entirely after "monster in a box." (My sense was that he'd said it "all" by then).
He has said some interesting things in interviews. I was unaware of his ongoing "psychedelic" pre-occupations, but that's not interesting to me particularly.
One more tortured artist; very sad.
Dave had posted the Times obit.
He seems to have been more responsible than anyone for the monologue as a new hybrid form, which has become almost too popular. It has the advantages of being literary without requiring the audience to read, and theatrical without requiring much in the way of staging. You get a night out with artistic pretensions, but it’s not too demanding. With a couple of props this gets called performance art, but it’s basically autobiographical storytelling. In lesser hands it can be deadly, but I guess he was pretty engaging.
I saw him around - a 'walking landmark,' that is nice. I did meet him once maybe eight – ten years ago at something for Lou Reed. He didn't talk really at all, only a very few precise, seemingly painfully chosen words. Bunny I appreciate your description of his eyes. It is odd - I remember thinking - he seems like a really good listener (not to me mind you, but certainly to Mr. Reed). It was hard for me to imagine the man from the monologue side. He seemed porous and keen on taking it all in - as opposed to dishing it out. But what is one night’s impression of a lifetime of living. I admired his style.
"He seemed porous and keen on taking it all in--as opposed to dishing it out." Yes, I think you nailed it.
I read an interview with Gray recently in which he talked about how manhattan was the only place he knew so well that he could walk around without worrying where he was or what his destination was, just sensing, reacting and associating with and on the people things and locations he encountered.
A "flaneur"-- someone who walks aimlessly through the city as though it's a room in someone's home.
All this talk about walking (bunny and now jim’s last post) has reminded me of a book I read a long time ago and loved. It is driving me crazy that I can't think of the title, find it on my bookshelves, nor find it online... So instead of, or in addition to, letting me make it crazy I am throwing it out to you all to see if it might ring a bell and if you can help me:
It is a book about a man who constantly walks, told from the perspective of a boy that lives in the same town. The boy becomes fascinated by where the man might be going and starts to follow him and then, eventually, walking side by side with him. The man is married but can't stay indoors for very long and is walking at all times of day and night, and all seasons. He is claustrophobic, although it never says so so directly. He ends up (can I tell you the ending?) walking into the lake and not coming back up. If this might trigger a memory, I am pretty sure there are a few illustrations in the edition I had (it is not a children’s book) by William Steig. I sure would appreciate someone helping me put an end to this “it’s on the tip of my tongue” dilemma..?
"As a way of marking Spalding Gray's sad passing, the Lopate Show reairs an entire interview he did with Leonard on November 27th, 1990. Gray discusses his show, "Monster in a Box," the perils of writing a novel, and other digressions."
E. knew him pretty well as she brought him to Portland to perform a few times. He and his family were involved in a serious car accident a couple of years ago in Ireland. His friends say the event tipped him into a spiraling depression, Instead, Gray reasoned that he was heartbroken by the sale of his beloved house in Sag Harbor.
He disappeared after an evening out with his son to see the movie Big Fish.
so youre saying its just another tim burton related tragedy? has anybody seen mark wahlberg since Planet of the Apes? does anybody want to?
Why not? The movie made me want to kill.
Fresh Air remembers, day 1.
Day 2
|
No longer to see that ruined face, as I have seen it, off and on through a loop that has now stopped: At the back of "the house" at a professor's play done at wooster st.; at an early desk reading--I remember resenting the implacable image of "man at the desk talking about himself." Coming and going, walking, down through the years of New York---outside the "bad museum," on the bowery with shafransky in '87, to the monstrous box, which I didn't really find funny, only brackish, like my own family's peculiar humor, and sad.
In early December, I passed Gray and some of his friends walking down 1st Avenue, seemingly in fine fettle. I looked at him, and he returned the look, as he always did: I think it was a theatrical impulse, since although I had seen him around often throughout the years, I never knew him. In the past, I had seen him gaze back with either intense and impersonal amazement, or with a glance of acknowledged common humanity. In December, I observed the look of doubt, and I thought, "oh, but he's better now. . ."
If I continued to search, I'm sure I could come up with better poems to use instead of my own clumsy voice. I'm posting one by W.S. Merwin (before he got "soft"), and one by Wallace Stevens, both fellow New Englanders.
Beggars and Kings -- W. S. Merwin
In the evening
all the hours that weren't used
are emptied out
and the beggars are waiting to gather them up
to open them
to find the sun in each one
and teach it its beggar's name
and sing to it It is well
through the night
but each of us
has his own kingdom of pains
and has not yet found them all
and is sailing in search of them day and night
infallible undisputed unresting
filled with a dumb use
and its time
like a finger in a world without hands
Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock -- Wallace Stevens
The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches Tigers
In red weather.
- bunny 3-09-2004 9:23 pm
you should impose on us more often.
- dave 3-10-2004 1:11 am [add a comment]
thanks dave
- bunny 3-11-2004 1:28 am [add a comment]
Thanks Bunny.
Anybody ever meet him? I've read some about him in the past few days. Very interesting. Seems to have held a strange position in relation to the NYC art scene. I guess I dumbly thought he was "just" an interesting writer I hadn't gotten around to reading yet. But apparently he was more complex, and confusing, than that.
What exactly was he? (Pretending it makes any sense to ask this sort of question, or to answer it...)
- jim 3-10-2004 7:04 pm [add a comment]
Jim--
In my dour and nasty "sick-itude" today, I said that my reaction to Gray's work was "tepid at best". . . that's pretty much true for most of what I've seen of his, but NOT for "Monster in a Box"-- staged or film version.
If you haven't seen it, check out the film of "Monster in a Box." There's a filmed version of "swimming to cambodia" too--and that's kind of interesting because you get to see his style, and you can see him do his genre of personal monologue, remembering that he was one of the first to do it---but other than that STC is kind of "overpumped."
"Monster in a Box" is the best one and kind of shocking--its humor/horror holds up even nowadays, when we've already heard all the confessions of abused and abusers around the world.
- bunny 3-11-2004 1:24 am [add a comment]
Thanks. I haven't seen it. I will check it out.
- jim 3-11-2004 2:10 am [add a comment]
He was an entertainer & a minor, does not mean unimportant, American intellectual. I met him one afternoon with Terence McK at the notorious Naropa Institute in Boulder Colorado. A truly charming man with alot of nongoogly admiration for the notion of a seriouly psychedelic intelligensia. Good by Spalding, please remember to eat your shrooms. That goes for everyone.
- Frank (guest) 3-10-2004 7:44 pm [add a comment]
I should clarify my post--The sadness of Spalding Gray's death for me resides in the terrible circumstances of his depressive illness, complicated by a severe head injury he sustained in an accident in 2001, and his struggle with these, as reported by the press. He was a walking landmark around downtown new york, as he walked a lot around the town. So, for me, not seeing him anymore walking down the street, is just another sign that time is passing, has past.
I always thought that Gray's work was overrated. But sometimes there was something surprising about his continuing ability to draw material from his self-absorption, to perform it, and to keep people interested. I wouldn't think about reading the stuff, because I think it's so tied to his performance of it. My interest in his work was tepid at best, and I lost interest entirely after "monster in a box." (My sense was that he'd said it "all" by then).
He has said some interesting things in interviews. I was unaware of his ongoing "psychedelic" pre-occupations, but that's not interesting to me particularly.
- bunny 3-10-2004 9:57 pm [add a comment]
One more tortured artist; very sad.
Dave had posted the Times obit.
He seems to have been more responsible than anyone for the monologue as a new hybrid form, which has become almost too popular. It has the advantages of being literary without requiring the audience to read, and theatrical without requiring much in the way of staging. You get a night out with artistic pretensions, but it’s not too demanding. With a couple of props this gets called performance art, but it’s basically autobiographical storytelling. In lesser hands it can be deadly, but I guess he was pretty engaging.
- alex 3-10-2004 10:55 pm [add a comment]
I saw him around - a 'walking landmark,' that is nice. I did meet him once maybe eight – ten years ago at something for Lou Reed. He didn't talk really at all, only a very few precise, seemingly painfully chosen words. Bunny I appreciate your description of his eyes. It is odd - I remember thinking - he seems like a really good listener (not to me mind you, but certainly to Mr. Reed). It was hard for me to imagine the man from the monologue side. He seemed porous and keen on taking it all in - as opposed to dishing it out. But what is one night’s impression of a lifetime of living. I admired his style.
- selma 3-10-2004 11:32 pm [add a comment]
"He seemed porous and keen on taking it all in--as opposed to dishing it out." Yes, I think you nailed it.
I read an interview with Gray recently in which he talked about how manhattan was the only place he knew so well that he could walk around without worrying where he was or what his destination was, just sensing, reacting and associating with and on the people things and locations he encountered.
A "flaneur"-- someone who walks aimlessly through the city as though it's a room in someone's home.
- bunny 3-11-2004 1:43 am [add a comment]
All this talk about walking (bunny and now jim’s last post) has reminded me of a book I read a long time ago and loved. It is driving me crazy that I can't think of the title, find it on my bookshelves, nor find it online... So instead of, or in addition to, letting me make it crazy I am throwing it out to you all to see if it might ring a bell and if you can help me:
It is a book about a man who constantly walks, told from the perspective of a boy that lives in the same town. The boy becomes fascinated by where the man might be going and starts to follow him and then, eventually, walking side by side with him. The man is married but can't stay indoors for very long and is walking at all times of day and night, and all seasons. He is claustrophobic, although it never says so so directly. He ends up (can I tell you the ending?) walking into the lake and not coming back up. If this might trigger a memory, I am pretty sure there are a few illustrations in the edition I had (it is not a children’s book) by William Steig. I sure would appreciate someone helping me put an end to this “it’s on the tip of my tongue” dilemma..?
- selma 3-12-2004 10:02 pm [add a comment]
"As a way of marking Spalding Gray's sad passing, the Lopate Show reairs an entire interview he did with Leonard on November 27th, 1990. Gray discusses his show, "Monster in a Box," the perils of writing a novel, and other digressions."
- dave 3-11-2004 6:20 pm [add a comment]
E. knew him pretty well as she brought him to Portland to perform a few times. He and his family were involved in a serious car accident a couple of years ago in Ireland. His friends say the event tipped him into a spiraling depression, Instead, Gray reasoned that he was heartbroken by the sale of his beloved house in Sag Harbor.
He disappeared after an evening out with his son to see the movie Big Fish.
- steve 3-11-2004 7:43 pm [add a comment]
so youre saying its just another tim burton related tragedy? has anybody seen mark wahlberg since Planet of the Apes? does anybody want to?
- dave 3-11-2004 11:11 pm [add a comment]
Why not? The movie made me want to kill.
- steve 3-12-2004 3:58 am [add a comment]
Fresh Air remembers, day 1.
- steve 3-23-2004 7:05 am [add a comment]
Day 2
- steve 3-24-2004 8:18 am [add a comment]