Setbacks, startups, safe houses and speak-easys. Plus books and the owls of Wise Acres. Oh, and the Preakness.

Friday, May 19. What a great day to blog to friends; misting, gray, deliciously cool, an atypical Kansas day, more like Sault St. Marie. Here at Wise Haus (seen above) coffee is good and it rained last night after I put out fertilizer and grass seed. First, the setback and a possible startup.

Welcome to the May blog from Wise Acres, not so much the May Wise sculpture show in the Crossroads; that dog no longer hunts. I was apprised of that quite late in the game in a bit of an untidy tiding. Sort of like, oh there won’t be a gallery, don’t tell anyone yet.

Better times at the popular gallery…

This was a jolt to me as I was preparing for the May First Friday show and had bought a lot of lighting accessories; some 20 of the pieces were to be lit in unusual ways, all to be lit at once on the gallery floor. LEDs, neon, programmable color/music lights, even bug zappers for the odd unexpected snap crackle pop of a wayward fly.

I tried to inquire multiple times and ways about wall sizes as I was going to install mylar reflective sheeting, and also needed to know outlet locations and capacity. No answer. Ever. Odd to be ghosted by someone whose interests ostensibly coincided with mine in an artist/gallerist relationship.

Long sad story considerably shortened: the gallerist whose dream had started at The Hilliard Gallery in the Plaza (he worked there and later acquired the name and rights) did everything he could to keep the place going, aided by his artist-wife. It was named KC’s favorite several times, as well as Missouri’s favorite, and one of the top galleries in the U.S. So it’s not for lack of trying and pretty superhuman effort that this giant tree fell in the forest and nobody heard it.

 What went wrong?

The pandemic. The razor-slim profit line of a gallery. A barely sustainable space vs. art business model dependent on the whims of a public more interested in the catered openings than the carefully curated pieces on display. Lack of Chelsea white cube big name artists. And so on. Was it fun while it lasted? Sure. For everyone but the guy who spent half his life making it work, and his artists.

Enough. What of the future?

Artists will art; it’s what they, we, do. I now have a barn full of sculpture I made, painstakingly. I will offer these pieces. No free food and wine. Maybe a Dr. Pepper. It’s a barn, not a gallery. The prices will be way better than a gallery. More on that as I get it together. Hey, one door closes, two more open. And the gallery may go online as a more streamlined service.

Books I’m reading and re-reading. (Links in bold italics)

L to R: Amy Hempel, Joshua Cohen, Renata Adler, James Salter…

Take Salter, what a spell-weaving dark magician. He wrote Downhill Racer, great cult movie with Robert Redford. I would recommend Solo Faces to start reading Salter, then Light Years. Then the rest; bewitching, all. I’m re-reading his Last Night stories, and getting that first-read thump all over again.

Amy Hempel. I’m reading her 2007 Collected Stories (a NYT ten best of that year) for the first time and it is just (good) surprise after surprise, page after page. It’s Highly Recommended. Then, Joshua Cohen’s lengthily titled The Netanyahus: An Account of a Minor and Ultimately Even Negligible Episode in the History of a Very Famous Family, a Pulitzer winner—I’m not far enough in to pimp it or pass on it, but it’s becoming a bit more amusing and interesting with each page—this guy Cohen is good.

Finally I’m re-reading Renata Adler’s Speedboat, “One of the defining books of the70’s!” which I read forty years ago and can’t remember a word of. I looked all over for this book (I know I have it) and kept seeing references to it, so I ordered it which will now guarantee I’ll find my other copy. It’s kind of fragmented, which the critics gushed about (“experimental!”) but, so far, I’m not saying it should be on anyone’s shelf. It’s not bad, it may even be a classic. And I’ve got two.

You may have noted the Border’s bookmarks; I loved that store. Comfortable, well-stocked, and they let me leave my own bookmarks on their counter. Here’s my newest version of those.

Night Train Cold Beer, Ruined Days, Resume Speed, Scattered Cranes, Horses See Ghosts, I Was In The Vicinity, and, latest, Chickens One Day Feathers The Next…available here.

Speak-easys & Safe houses

In paleolithic times, or about that many years ago, I worked in Milwaukee at an ad agency that had Harley-Davidson. I was on police bikes, and worked my way up to the consumer scooters. Anyway, a bunch of us used to meet at a popular bar known as The Safe House. The doorway opened up onto a closet-sized room with an old 1920’s telephone switchboard and, if you looked hard enough, instructions on how to enter. A password would do. Or a little dance like wide receivers perform in the end zone. Whatever means got you in, you were on camera, and it was seen by all patrons. I recalled this when I saw this marvelous Moss & Fog pictorial on a Shanghai speak-easy “secret” entrance. (link)

The owls of Wise Acres

We’re owl-friendly and they like it here; several generations have called it home, and an inherited memory seems to reside in the family tree. One owl used to follow Freddie on walks and it landed behind me as I was passing the barn and walked along behind me for a bit. Probably for a meal; I had left it a mouse a few days before. I also plucked its kid out of the bushes and placed the fledgling in a safe place. Twice. One time the owl was close enough to touch and I spoke to it, “Teach this kid to fly, okay?” Anyway, it slept in a front yard tree, amid the racket of mowing and dogs barking, etc. (Freddie took this photo, right, of that owl sleeping)

Yesterday, F found a big (ten inch) owl feather in the driveway, and I found a similar one in the front yard, probably from a fledgling of a year or so ago, now fully grown.

They were like notes, billets-doux, from a good friend and they said, “We’re around, we’re just a little less outgoing than our forfeathers were, but we think Wise Acres is a hoot.”

Last and least; The Preakness

I bet a Benjamin on the Derby every year, my only gamble, and if it’s not all gone I bet the rest on the next two legs of The Triple Crown. Last year I won big enough that if I lose it all for ten years I’m still playing with house money. So, the 2023 Derby; I only got $40 back from the $100 bet and that will go $3 across the board ($9) on Mage (Derby winner), $3 across the board ($9) on First Mission, $3 across the board ($9) on National Treasure, and a $12 trifecta box combination of 3-8-1 (all Mage, Mission and Treasure). Total bet, $39. Let’s see if I get any back to bet on The Belmont Stakes. Right now there are only eight horses running.*

Riders up. Happy rest of May. See you in June. G

*(Sat. update on Preakness bet; Mission scratched so only 7 in field today. Changed Mission and box trifecta to Red Route #5)
(After-race update: got two out of three but now end up with a paltry $27.94 to bet on Belmont. Almost—the box trifecta would have made me a hundredaire. Oh well. Good to see Baffert back btw—he’s a staple, like hats and bubbly.)