Day: June 25, 2005

Recently a trove of paintings was found in a warehouse on Long Island. Some believe they may be the work of Jackson Pollock. Here’s one of them. I don’t remember when I first saw a Pollock. I mean one of the swirly, drippy ones like this image that he’s famous for. Whenever it was, I was unimpressed. I felt like any child could do what he did. While that may be true, at the time, Jackson Pollock took expression with pigmented oil to a place it hadn’t been.

Ed Harris, a marvelous and underrated actor, mezmerizes in his portrayal of the artist in the 2000 film he also debuted as a director. It works. He is Pollock. His facination began in 1986 when his Dad gave him a Pollock book for his birthday. In those 14 years he continually studied the artist until he felt he could realistically perform the painting itself. The National Gallery has an online feature including footage of Pollock at work with his own narration. If you see the film, you’ll notice Harris nails it.

Ed Harris’ Pollock completely changed my view of the artist to one of awe. Pollock’s alcoholism and depression made it virtually impossible for him to get out of bed, but he did…to paint. The canvas was his counsel.

This space has received a few visits from this site, so I checked it out and found this cool animated gif.

No idea how he found me…

I woke up this morning feeling pretty good about this:

You know the story. For 86 years the Yankees got the girl and the Red Sox watched them dance. After experiencing nearly forty of those futile years as a fan, I still have a nagging sense of fear of the “Evil Empire,” but it’s waning. The Yankees have a $205M payroll and a barren farm. Last night they looked more like Pedro’s “granddaddies” in a loss fueled by ancient Bernie Williams dropping a routine fly ball. I can only hope their big “trump the Red Sox again” acquisition before the 2004 season becomes their “Curse of Arod.” It’s going pretty well so far.

So now I’m going to say it. The Yankees are done. The mental aspect of baseball is huge, and these guys are permanently damaged from their colossal collapse in the 2004 ALCS. They had the Red Sox buried and they let them up off the mat to get their asses kicked. The New York papers called it the BIGGEST COLLAPSE in the HISTORY OF SPORTS. So it lingers. They have doubts. Their fans have doubts. Roles have been reversed. It’s like the “Anti-George” Seinfeld episode… Hmmm… George… “The Boss.” I wonder how he’s feeling this morning?