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Twittergetting2Tennant Creek, Australia by walking beside Grammercy Park... ur entering the TwZne... Cold November back in 1965, still pretty close to the middle of the twentieth century. Walking home with paint box in hand, back pack (which wasn't in vogue those days) and a military-style fatigue cap. Since the days of the assassination of John F. Kennedy, men just stopped wearing hats. Up until JFK went around bare-headed, the style dictated, right up to the '50's that men wore hats. Usually cheese cutters and snap-brims were the options. But that stopped abruptly in the sixties, putting major hating industries out of business. And the back pack! Boy, was that an unpopular thing to do. People would ask if I was going camping. They associated backpacks with boy scouts and in my case they were right. I'm an eagle scout. It stays with you for life. The two most valuable things I had with me on the road, and it was a long and tough one, were my army training and my boy scout training. Serious. Be prepared. Three fingers. Hear the one about the guy who cloned himself so he could be pre-paired? Yuck, Yuck! The park was on the way, the shortest way between Twenty-third and Third and Bedford Street two blocks East of Seventh. One night in the studio apartment I remembered the park and did this brush and ink painting on paper from memory. The painting acquired the red while jammed with other stuff in a portfolio or something and as you see, the paper has deteriorated with age so part ...
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