Fezziwig Press & Photography by Stu Jenks

From The 2009 All Souls' Procession

From The 2009 All Souls' Procession, Tucson, Arizona (c) 2009 Stu Jenks

[All images by Stu Jenks, except the bottom one of me in a kilt, taken by Tom Willett]

 

"Beaufort, South Carolina" by Robert Frank

"Beaufort, South Carolina, 1955" (detail) by Robert Frank

[Taken by me at the MOCA in Downtown Los Angeles in September. I had permission. Sadly, the images from "The Americans" series were very poorly lit, not like the same images I saw in August, at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. There, they were exquisitely lit. This, and others in the series are perfect photographs: The woman's radiant face, the sun behind her, the light pole that echos the Cross. Perfect. Other memories from MOCA: LA that day, were a class of tweens taking a tour of the museum and having their teacher or a docent tell them that the poorly-crafted, arrogant, nightmares-on-a-wall they were seeing, were actually good paintings. The look on the kids' faces was priceless. Remember, it was a child who told the townspeople that the Emperor had no clothes on. Sadly, the schoolkids weren't in the room with "The Americans." I bet they would have looks of awe on their faces, not wrinkled-up noses. Hopefully they got to see them before they left.]

"When people look at my pictures I want them to feel the way they do when they want to read a line of a poem twice." - Robert Frank.

"Infrared Bozo at 'I Love Teryyake & Sushi' "

 

"Infrared Bozo at 'I Love Teryyaki & Sushi', San Francisco, California" (c) 2009 Stu Jenks

"Mom, I saw U2"

"Mom, I saw U2 with Cathy the other night in Phoenix. We had a wonderful time."

"I'm so glad," she says. It's after dinner. Mary's in bed. She's in good spirits in spite of the scary-waking-visions she's having these days. Today is a day when the dementia makes her feel special rather than cursed. She mentioned to me earlier to make sure I go downstairs and get the $50 in an envelope that is on a chair. There is no downstairs, no $50, no chair. I told her I would get the envelope on my way out tonight.

"They sang this song called 'Walk On.'"

"I know that song," she says. She begins to sing a song. I think it's a Roger Miller song. After a bit, I stop her, to finish my story.

"It's a different 'Walk On," I say, regretting immediately that I had cut her off.

"Oh," she says, but looks at me intently without any shame. Just with love and great interest.

"It's a wonderful song," I say, "About those who have died and have gone before us to the Other Side. I thought about Dad and how I miss him, and I thought about you and how I'm going to miss you when you die."

"I hope so," she says.

I don't tell her that I cried though most of the song, not because I feel any shame about that. I just don't want to break down in front of her, right now.

"I'll miss you a lot, Mom."

She then gets this faraway look in her eye. I know the look. She's getting ready to say sometime very loving, very sweet. If she can get it out.

"I know ...it's selfish of me,... but I told someone today,... that I don't know... what I would do... without Stu."

"You don't need to do anything, Mom. I'll be here for you. Always."

"Thank you, Stu."

I let the Love hang in the air. I don't speak. I don't mess it up. I just let the Circle of Love spin between us. Through us. Through all of us.

"...You're packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been

A place that has to be believed to be seen

You could have flown away
A singing bird in an open cage
Who will only fly, only fly for freedom

Walk on, walk on
What you've got they can't deny it
Can't sell it, can't buy it
Walk on, walk on
Stay safe tonight

And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
And you can only take so much

Walk on, walk on" - U2

[Photos of U2 were taken from their website.]

HoCoFest 2009

HoCoFest 2009, Hotel Congress, Tucson, Arizona: (c) Stu Jenks 2009

[Just a few selected images from HoCoFest 2009. From top to bottom: "Club Congress Lamp", "Alana Sweetwater", "Al Perry and a Cowboy", "Cracker", "The Whole Hoco", "The Hotel Congress Sign", and "From the Hotel Congress Roof." And thank you, Dave Slutes, for the job. And sorry to the Calexico fans: I hurt my right foot a few weeks before the Hoco, and I could only endure some much pain. Hopefully, next time.]

"Barney Stu"

"Barney Stu, Imperial Beach, California" (c) 2009 Annie Gordon & Stu Jenks

[A Barney is an inexperienced surfer, after Barney Rubble. Annie took the shot. I fiddled with it later. Many thanks to Matt Bagby, my instructor that day. The best teacher ever. And I just called Maui to begin the process of ordering a blue Sunset Softboard. Much better than the rentals I've gotten. I am truly stoked, to get my own board. Truly.]

"Mystical Rock, Goblin State Park, Utah" by Brent Pearson

[Wonderful shot by Master Nocturnal Photographer Brent Pearson, taken on the Fourth of July, 2009, in Southeastern Utah. Wish I could have been at four places at the same time on that night, but I was with good friends from The Rooms, so all was well. Happy July, everyone.]

"The Maritime Museum, San Francisco, on the Fourth of July" by Cathy Spann

 

"Maritime Museum, San Francisco, California" (c) July 4th, 2009 by Cathy Spann

[This images were taken by Photographer Cathy Spann, last night, in San Francisco. Great stuff. As she said, "Very Francis Scott Key." Very much so. Both ancient and modern at the same time. Lovely.]

 

 

“Arcosanti Cairn & Ploy Girl"

“Arcosanti Cairn & Ploy Girl" (From the book "Dementia Blues")
Arcosanti, Cordes Junction, Arizona
Spring, 2009


    A circus performer takes a drag off the pipe. Smells like Skunk-Weed to me.    
    “We’re going to drop Acid tonight,” say the videographer, his voice high with enthusiasm. He sounds like a small child.
    “I’ll take pictures of your eyeballs,” I say with no affect at all in my voice.    
    What I’m really thinking is “Great. Just what I don’t need. To be around people doing drugs. This isn’t my party anyways. I’m just here to shoot the troupe’s performances that are part of the celebration of Soleri’s 90th birthday. Now, all I just want to do is just drive home.”
    [I’m a recovering drug addict and alcoholic. Lot of years sober, but it doesn’t matter. Old saying: You hang out at a barbershop long enough, you’re eventually going to get a haircut. And it’s a whole lot more about me than it is about them.]
    I make a quick exit from the stoners and walk around Arcosanti for a while, getting my bearings. Almost stepped on a rattler, which was actually kind of fun. The snake and I saw each other at about the same time, so no one got hurt. I hiked to the other side of the canyon, finding its rim full of small stone cairns, presumably made by the visitors and residents of Arcosanti.
    Arcosanti is visionary architect Paolo Soleri’s urban experiment in the desert. They were going great guns throughout most of the 1970’s, pouring concrete, building foundries, constructing clay ovens, making living spaces, creating Soleri’s dream of a minimalist city, without cars, that would eventually house over 5000 people, when everything came to a screeching halt one summer night in 1978.

    Now this is what I heard from a guy who was there. I hear it just a few hours ago, while waiting in line, in the dark, to get a half-cooked shish-ka-bob. Another guy, who I think is still on Arcosanti’s board of directors, came up at some point and listened, and spoke a little, but didn’t contradict the first guy. We all see the world through our own lens, but this guy’s vision seemed clear to me, and I didn’t sense he had an ax to grind.
    The residents of Arcosanti were building their little city but they needed to raise more funds. They had a couple of small music festivals the previous two years, but they didn’t make much money. Then this one guy who lived at Arcosanti, and who had been a bit of a music promoter before he arrived, suggested they do a big festival. Todd Rundgren, Jackson Browne and others would play. The guy I talked with, (let’s call him Roy), seemed skeptical of the plan.
    “I thought it was a bad idea at the time,” Roy said.
    I think it was the second day of the festival, and many more people showed up then they had prepared for. They had already filled a freshly mowed field with cars and they had no place to put the huge line of autos that were impatiently waiting at the edge of the property. Roy suggested that they just park on the dirt road that led from the Interstate to Arcosanti, but others said to just have them park in a lower field. That field hadn’t been mowed and was high with grass. They parked hundreds of cars there. Time passed. The music played. Then multiple hot mufflers caught the field on fire. And most of the cars burned. No explosions like in the movies. Just acrid smoke, tall flames and melted steel.
    “All the Arcosanti residents made a big circle around the burning cars, for many visitors wanted to get back to their cars and get their valuables, but it was just too dangerous. I guess close to a 500 cars burnt that day,” said Roy.
    “Little less than that,” said the member of the board.
    “Yea, probably so. For months we pulled burned wreaks up that hill,” said Roy, pointing to the east.
    “It was horrible. But the worst thing is that it cost us a fortune. For we had insurance for the first parking lot, that one we had mowed,” he continued, “but the bottom lot was not covered by insurance. The community had to pay for all those cars. That’s why you haven’t seen many new buildings at all since then. For over thirty years, all the extra money has been going to settle those debts. It was just a couple years ago, when the last payment was made. Isn’t that right?” said Roy.
    The Board Member nodded.
    “Wow,” I said. I was completely gob smacked. I had no idea.
    “Here’s the irony,” Roy said, “We were trying to build a city without cars and it was the cars that brought us down.”

    It’s getting late. The party continues at the Big Vault. I took some pictures of Ploy, a techno band from Tucson and their dancers, and I even swayed some to the boom-boom-boom of the electronic beat, but as I thought hours earlier: This isn’t my party. I’m just a hired gun with a camera. And this is a barbershop of sorts.
    I’m sleepy. I’m lying on top of my sleeping bag, inside of the Pathfinder. I’m feel pretty good, actually. It’s been a very interesting night. But tomorrow, I’m not going to hang out with the Arco alumni or with the troupe. I think I’ll go to Coalmine Canyon and hike around with Bozo. Coalmine’s only a couple hours north. And maybe I’ll even hit the Grand Canyon on the way back to Arcosanti. I did commit to shooting tomorrow’s performance, but I didn’t commit to hanging out with the tribes. Like they say in the rooms: Sobriety has to be your number one priority. You don’t have to tell me twice. Ok. Maybe twice, but not three times.
    I start to drift off to sleep, listening to the driving techno-beats of Ploy, just over there. Enjoying them from a safe distance. A safe sober distance.

[Addendum: I did get contacted by an 'Arconaut' who corrected me on a few of my facts. According to this source, The Car Fire was paid off after 10 or 15 years, that much construction happened after The Car Fire, and that the blaze was just one of many setbacks. It appears a much greater loss came with the death of Colly Soleri from cancer in 1983. "The power behind the throne'" was how she was described. Bottom line, from my somewhat-sympathetic outsider's viewpoint, is that Arcosanti has never fully live up to its big dream. I have big dreams and the best ones are ones that have come true. I like the ones that I am still striving for, but I really love those dreams that have come to pass. And it's sad that Arco-ville is not Arco-city.]

Mad Dogs and Englishmen on Gettysburg Day

"Mad Dogs and Englishmen on Gettysburg Day"

July, 3rd, 2009

    146 years ago today, I died. At least one of my bodies did. [To read the story, go to the Muleskinner story on this blog.] Most Americans celebrate the Fourth of July. I get moody on the Third.

    In 1971, I first saw the film 'Mad Dogs and Englishmen' at the old State Theatre in Downtown Raleigh, North Carolina. I was only 17. I was a virgin, in more ways than just sexual. I ain't a virgin anymore.

    I just bought a brand new DVD of this great film. Watching it now. It makes me cry. Carl Radle, the bassist, is dead from alcoholism. Jim Gordon, the drummer, went to prison for killing his Mom in 1983 and is still there. Leon Russell hopefully is still out there pounding the keys somewhere. Joe Cocker has survived, and lives on the Mad Dog Ranch in Colorado. And I pray Bobbie Keys is blowing his horn, loud into the wind.

    I bought the record when it first came out. I then owned the cassette tape to replace the record. I watch a VCR tape of the film many years ago. And now, on Gettysburg Day, I'm watching a DVD and I'm downloading the album from ITunes, even as I type. It's been years. The music, the film are still wonderful.

    But I think I'll only watch another half hour or so, for I want to hike to the top of Pontatoc Ridge, which is just a few miles north of my apartment. Hike to the top and think of my fellow Confederate Dead. And be grateful, that my soul is alive in a body that can take me to the top of a desert ridge, and that can hear and see Mad Dogs and Englishmen play.

    "Feeling alright? Not feeling too good myself."

    Happy 3rd of July.