Where the hell has Kingston been for the past couple of months. Knee shopping of course. I found one in just the right color and size and it fits good too. But just like any good pair of new shoes there were a lot of wearing in until it was comfortable. I wasn't able to putter around in the studio or sit at the computer for more than a few minutes at a time. Even if I could my head wasn't clear enough to decide which line went where or what color to use to gray down that orange.
I'm just now getting around and thinking somewhat clearly. I'm cleaning palettes and organizing for the next paintings whatever they may be. I have a couple of life drawing sessions scheduled for this week (can't wait). Oh boy back to work.
I scanned a few of my old Kingston's Boston cartoons from The Real Paper in the late '70s. I thought you might like to see them.
In the seventies I had lived in an old horse and carriage barn on Beacon Hill about 3 blocks from the state house. The barn was the home of Kennedy Studio. We had too much fun. This was one of my first Kingston's Boston cartoons. It's all true. I was making a couple of burgers on my habachi on the roof and all of a sudden scrambling over the roof top were fireman carrying hosed in the full fire fighting gear. When they saw what was going on they had some beers and left. Ha! Please note the beardless character. Yes me without a beard. This was a period when I was truly bouncing on the bottom. One morning I woke up and started shaving. I had such a hangover that I must have felt it might cure it. It didn't.
In the 1970s the alternative papers were distributed free to the many colleges in Boston. But they were also sold by street hawkers. Old hippie types in the era of yuppies, disco and ever shortening hair. This sounds like someone I know? Oh well. in the later seventies credit cards were becoming common place. Enough said.
In late '77 I sobered up and soon moved of the hill into Back Bay. I had to get away from the fun. Back Bay was a different place. Different demos so to speak. I started bumping into this one homeless guy everywhere I went. I started thinking that maybe he was following me... He had dred-locks and was so greasy dirty and smelly that he controlled his own space for sure. When I moved to Harvard Square... there he was. Spooky.
In 1981 we moved to NYC. I don't know why but I was on 44th near Time Square. There he was my homeless guy. He walked up to me and said "hi!" holding out his hand in greeting? Like I said... Spooky.