There are six little R’s on Arthur’s calendar and we are over the hump of the easiest fast I have ever done.
This day included a visit to one of Art’s friends, Fran a keen octogenarian, Buddhist, animal activist and news hen. The latter designation because she was a journalist before marrying Claude Bentley, a fine artist. Early in our cozy, rambling conversation, she endearingly declared herself to be so far left that she is almost off the planet. While she cuddled with a glorious demi-coon cat I admired displays of her husband’s large, subtle abstracts, precious textiles and pre-Colombian art pieces. For me, the room was enlivened by a tiny portrait of Bentley – that Fran received posthumously from an fellow artist at last honoring an in-kind trade. Her house is a masterpiece of southwestern style lovingly customized with Spanish corbels, spindeled wooden doors and unique window treatment.
We, then, took a drive up towards the ski areas through acres of wintering Aspens coating the mountains like a minimalist painting. The threatening clouds hovered in the thin air and over the wild expanse of this valley that seems to stretch beyond Albuquerque. At a lookout, three young men popped out of a fancy VW and asked me to take their picture. As they turned to stuff themsleves into the cocked doors I read aloud from the driver’s t-shirt: “Eat it, smoke it wear it.” He motioned me to the window and passed a full pipe to me; making the ride back into the clutter very enjoyable. We dragged out a particularly beat-up side table and burned lots of paper.
We spent the evening re-rearranging the furniture and of course watching Sister Wendy. Tonight she wound up the series with abstract expressionists and pop artist in New York. That hard act to follow is now being followed by “No Excuses: Existentialism and the Meaning of Life.