10 March 2009
29 December 2008
14 December 2008
08 December 2008
Ferlinghetti
I saw Laurence Ferlinghetti speak at the Rio Theater in Santa Cruz in 2000 or 2001. Every seat in the theater was taken, and Ferlinghetti gave a great performance, appearing as the blind muse from the back of the room and slowly, carefully walking to the stage, all the while his powerful voice filling the room. One thing he said that evening has stuck with me. Regarding trickle down economic policy, he said, "They say a rising tide lifts all boats, but what if you don't have a boat?" Still a prescient comment, except today you need a lot more than a boat--a large bank or automobile company is needed instead.
A friend met Ferlinghetti at City Lights the other day. Hearing about their friendly but intense conversation, I was reminded of this short description of an event in London ten years ago where Ferlinghetti spoke. Not only is Ferlinghetti a good poet and artist and bookseller, he is a caring, compassionate friend:
Letter from John Christie, 3 June 1998
A week after I got back I went to a talk at the Tate one evening on the work of the American poet Kenneth Patchen. He died in 1972 at the age of only 61. In the latter part of his life he was bedridden and in constant pain from a back injury but managed somehow to produce hundreds of small hand-painted books. Laurence Ferlinghetti, the poet and founder of City Lights book store and his publisher was there and also, a surprise guest, Miriam Patchen, the poet’s widow. Many of Patchen’s love poems, all of which were written originally for Miriam, were read out and it was very moving to see this old lady sitting there before us on the stage, listening quietly and sometimes lowering her head as she listened. They’d lived on welfare for a good part of their lives together because he was unable to work and she had needed to be there to care for him. She said that it was only after he’d died that a university had approached her to buy his archive and this money had provided for her these last twenty-six years. At one point in Ferlinghetti’s talk he told us that he hadn’t known Patchen very well because Kenneth and Miriam lived outside San Francisco in Palo Alto, the home town now of Hewlett-Packard and hundreds of other Silicon Valley computer companies, and didn’t travel much but he had at one point spent some time with him while waiting at a hospital. Later in the evening Miriam said that she wanted to add something to that story. Patchen was suffering badly with his back injury and had to go to the hospital which was 34 miles away, too far to travel on the bus in his condition and they couldn’t afford a taxi, so in desperation she phoned City Lights to ask if there was anyone who could help. A while later Ferlinghetti himself arrived by car and took Patchen to the hospital and waited there for him many hours until he was seen, then brought him home. She said that what Ferlinghetti hadn’t mentioned was that he was about to go on stage to read when the message first reached him and he’d canceled the reading to take Patchen to the hospital.
It was an emotional evening and another one of those times where making the effort to go really paid off.
From: I send you this Cadmium red…A correspondence between John Berger and John Christie
A friend met Ferlinghetti at City Lights the other day. Hearing about their friendly but intense conversation, I was reminded of this short description of an event in London ten years ago where Ferlinghetti spoke. Not only is Ferlinghetti a good poet and artist and bookseller, he is a caring, compassionate friend:
Letter from John Christie, 3 June 1998
A week after I got back I went to a talk at the Tate one evening on the work of the American poet Kenneth Patchen. He died in 1972 at the age of only 61. In the latter part of his life he was bedridden and in constant pain from a back injury but managed somehow to produce hundreds of small hand-painted books. Laurence Ferlinghetti, the poet and founder of City Lights book store and his publisher was there and also, a surprise guest, Miriam Patchen, the poet’s widow. Many of Patchen’s love poems, all of which were written originally for Miriam, were read out and it was very moving to see this old lady sitting there before us on the stage, listening quietly and sometimes lowering her head as she listened. They’d lived on welfare for a good part of their lives together because he was unable to work and she had needed to be there to care for him. She said that it was only after he’d died that a university had approached her to buy his archive and this money had provided for her these last twenty-six years. At one point in Ferlinghetti’s talk he told us that he hadn’t known Patchen very well because Kenneth and Miriam lived outside San Francisco in Palo Alto, the home town now of Hewlett-Packard and hundreds of other Silicon Valley computer companies, and didn’t travel much but he had at one point spent some time with him while waiting at a hospital. Later in the evening Miriam said that she wanted to add something to that story. Patchen was suffering badly with his back injury and had to go to the hospital which was 34 miles away, too far to travel on the bus in his condition and they couldn’t afford a taxi, so in desperation she phoned City Lights to ask if there was anyone who could help. A while later Ferlinghetti himself arrived by car and took Patchen to the hospital and waited there for him many hours until he was seen, then brought him home. She said that what Ferlinghetti hadn’t mentioned was that he was about to go on stage to read when the message first reached him and he’d canceled the reading to take Patchen to the hospital.
It was an emotional evening and another one of those times where making the effort to go really paid off.
From: I send you this Cadmium red…A correspondence between John Berger and John Christie
03 December 2008
02 December 2008
06 November 2008
memorial for Rikki Maihos
memorial for Rikki Maihos
Originally uploaded by Alan Wiig.
Claremont DMV bike polo grounds. 30 October 2008. Oakland.
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