New Film: My San Francisco

This is my tribute to the city I live in. Enjoy.

Odds and Ends

My life is like a space mission. I try to concentrate, as I fall through the void at high speed. The results—good and bad—are often accidental. After I posted about windows and views last week, I realized I'd left out the most beautiful view I've had, of this sexy Russian Orthodox Church on Geary Boulevard, seated beside the Golden Gate. I lived in this apartment from 1989-94, and I could see a large part of San Francisco, from Downtown to the Marin Headlands, from its fifteen windows.

Choreographer Twyla Tharp writes:

I read for growth, firmly believing that what you are today and what you will be in five years depends on two things: the people you meet and the books you read.

In recent years, the author who has inspired and taught me more than any other is Robert Greene. Recently he wrote a blog entry about his upcoming book, The 50th Law. This short piece cuts to the heart of the confusion I have struggled with throughout my life. In the second part of the piece, Greene expands his personal observations to political party behavior during the last election. If this part turns you off, just ignore it and re-read the opening paragraphs. Adjectives fail me in describing the writing of Robert Greene; the words that most apply have been diluted by overuse. I am in awe of his writing.

Finally, I offer this short video by British author Alain de Botton on Class Anxiety. His opening about depression on Sunday evening describes every one of my Sundays in adult life. I'm going on a long trip this weekend, and will update you when something interesting happens. Something interesting will definitely happen.

Windows and Views

Windows have played a big role in my life, and maybe in yours, too. They act like a theme in a play or an opera, setting the tone for everything that happens.

This first photo is of a window in an efficiency apartment I moved into when I was twenty. It was on the 20th floor of a building on 13th Street in Philadelphia. Outside, I could see most of the old city, the Delaware River and Camden, New Jersey on the other bank.

I got a spectacular sunrise every morning.

The view was especially dramatic at night.

I moved to a lower floor of the same building, and enjoyed windows facing north. Here I made a painting of the view at night. The view was real, but the girl was just wishful thinking.

Surprisingly, the window needn't have an expansive view to brighten a room. These windows in a restaurant where I worked faced a narrow alley and brick walls. Their reflected light feels more protected, almost intimate.

I got a similar effect from my windows on Nob Hill, which faced a light well between buildings. Once I painted them and gave myself a longer view.

This time the model was present but the view was not. That view is from Filbert Street on Russian Hill, a few blocks away.

No one does windows better than the Italians. This was the communal bedroom of a pensione in Rome, where I paid $4.50 per night to stay. Sometimes I wonder why I left.

And a nicer pensione in Florence, with a much younger me.

In Paris, behind these windows, anything could happen.

This bathroom is on the second floor of a Victorian House in Virginia. The windows look out on curvy farm and forestland.

This is a window I have today. The view is unremarkable, except for small patches of ocean on a clear day.