Harry Rodvogen was a very interesting person. He wanted to practice driving so he could buy a car, so we went out in my car with him driving until he was ready to try for his license. I was working the afternoon shift and did not go to work until 4pm, so it worked out fine.
He baught a Chevy, four door, and the first thing he did was to start decorating it. He got some brass bells of Sarna, and hung three from a knob on the dashboard. He said they were his "Bumpmeter." It was a one bell bump, or a two bell bump, and a three bell bump was a severe one.
He also built a diaorama on the top of the dashboard, and one on the flat space behind the rear seat. He colored in the pattern on the seats with markers. Under the hood he painted a nude woman, so the gas station attendents "would always check the oil." It was a work in progress as long as I knew him.
Some of his abstract paintings, I discovered, were his psychoanalitical catharsis.
I would look at one of his paintings every day, and would comment on it. That what he had painted refered to something that had just happened in his life. The next day that area would be worked on, hiding the event more in the abstraction. I realized I had to stop interpreting the painting so he could get on with it.
The same process is the basis of psychoanalysis. The rich have their Physcoanalists, the Catholics their confessional, the poor their bartender. It is all the same thing, you tell your troubles to some one else to get them off your chest, but the one you tell them to must not repeat them to anybody else. And so it was with Harry's abstract paintings. It was his confession, but it was hidden, just between him and the painting. It was there for everybody to see, but it was hidden.
One of Harry's enjoyments was to sit it the lobby of the Light House Inn smoking a Turkish ciggarette. These stunk terribly. And to laugh to himself when the desk clerk would put the dog outside.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Light House Inn
When working at the Electric Boat Company in Groton Conn, I stayed where the other GE Men were staying at the Light House Inn, in New London, Conn. This is across the Thames river from Groton. Since I got there after the others had been working there, and I was only helping them, I was given a small room on the third floor. Which was actually the attic. However, my room was next to Harry Rodvogin's studio. His room was actually attic, unfinished. But it was his living quarters, and artist's studio.
Harry Rodvogen was an artist that had lived in New York City, and was living in Hartford, Conn. when the owners of the Light House Inn, the Ronnick brothers, who knew him, invited him to come live at the Inn and take care of the paintings on display, and for sale there. The paintings were by area artists and were hung in the bar, dining room, and rooms on the second floor.
Harry was in his mid 50's. He was an excellent portrait artist. But he also painted abstract art, which was realistic, but a juxtoposition of realism and fantsy. For example he painted a self portrait of his reflection in a shattered mirror. He also painted beautiful paintings of nude women, but usually as part of an abstract painting. For example in a painting he had a beautiful woman's face, but her cheek was opened up to show a seascape with a sailboat.
One time when I came back there, he showed me his latest painting, it was a copy of the "Mona Lisa." As I was admiring it, I said "Harry, it is beautiful, but something isn't right." He pointed out that her breasts were nude. It never had dawned on me. He always painted nudes.
A year when I was in Paris, at the Louve, and standing in front of the "Mona Lisa" I was the only one laughing to myself. And I bought a post card of it and sent it to Harry, Saying "Harry. They have your painting over here in an old building called "The Louve," but somebody has painted clothes on her."
Harry Rodvogen was an artist that had lived in New York City, and was living in Hartford, Conn. when the owners of the Light House Inn, the Ronnick brothers, who knew him, invited him to come live at the Inn and take care of the paintings on display, and for sale there. The paintings were by area artists and were hung in the bar, dining room, and rooms on the second floor.
Harry was in his mid 50's. He was an excellent portrait artist. But he also painted abstract art, which was realistic, but a juxtoposition of realism and fantsy. For example he painted a self portrait of his reflection in a shattered mirror. He also painted beautiful paintings of nude women, but usually as part of an abstract painting. For example in a painting he had a beautiful woman's face, but her cheek was opened up to show a seascape with a sailboat.
One time when I came back there, he showed me his latest painting, it was a copy of the "Mona Lisa." As I was admiring it, I said "Harry, it is beautiful, but something isn't right." He pointed out that her breasts were nude. It never had dawned on me. He always painted nudes.
A year when I was in Paris, at the Louve, and standing in front of the "Mona Lisa" I was the only one laughing to myself. And I bought a post card of it and sent it to Harry, Saying "Harry. They have your painting over here in an old building called "The Louve," but somebody has painted clothes on her."
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Toneversation
From conversation when first married,
"Darling, would you like some more wine?"
"Yes, thank you, sweetheart."
To toneversation after 20 years.
"mmM?"
"Mmm!"
"Darling, would you like some more wine?"
"Yes, thank you, sweetheart."
To toneversation after 20 years.
"mmM?"
"Mmm!"
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