Little known, except by musicians, Danny Gatton was a musician’s musician. He loved playing the telecaster, rebuilding antique cars, staying around the D.C. area and just being a shy “good-old boy.”
Danny Gatton has been described as possessing an extraordinary proficiency on his instrument, “a living treasury of American musical styles.”In 2009, John Previti, who played bass guitar with Danny for 18 years stated: “You know, when he played country music, it sounded like all he played was country music. When he played jazz, it sounded like that’s all he played, rockabilly, old rock and roll, soul music. You know, he called himself a Whitman sampler of music Legendary guitarist Steve Vai reckons Danny “comes closer than anyone else to being the best guitar player that ever lived.”Accomplished guitar veteran Albert Lee said of Gatton: “Here’s a guy who’s got it all.”
Gatton shot himself in his garage, October 4, 1994 at the young age of 59 — he left no explanation. All great artists seem to possess a spooky fatalism, a sense of the duende down deep in the soul.
The goblets of the dawn break. The crying of the guitar starts. No use to stop it. It is impossible to stop it.
Through the branches
hesitant,
went a maiden
who was life.
Through the branches
hesitant,
she caught the day’s reflection
in a little mirror:
the glow of her limpid brow.
Through the branches
hesitant.
Over the shadows
she went astray,
weeping dewdrops,
the captive of time.
Through the branches
hesitant.
After spending my Monday morning hiking and photographing in the Sedona area, I went for lunch at René Restaurant in Tlaquepaque. We had eaten there before and love the relaxed fine dining ambiance, even for an old longhaired hiker like me.Joshua introduced himself as my waiter, and after taking my order he noticed my Nikon D800 — you can guess the rest of my story, photography. He also has a D800, but rather getting the new D810, he now has the D750 and loves it, which appears to be the majority opinion of many professional photographers — yes, Joshua Esquivel is an excellent professional photographer.
I had not yet seen any of his work, but I could tell from our conversation that he knew photography and was good, so I handed my camera to him and ask if he would take my photograph figuring that when he becomes famous I could say Joshua took my picture back when. (Ok, he could have been more creative.)
kenne at René’s — Image by joshua
It was a real pleasure meeting Joshua and now that we have crossed paths, may we stay connected in our journeys — peace, my friend.
Invoking the Mystery By Giving Of One’s Time — Computer Painting by kenne
(The following was first posted on September 26, 2009, on this blog. In the process of writing about my dear friend, Linda Ricketts, who passed away recently, I was doing a tab search on this blog when this posting was among those identified. So much has happened in the intervening years that make the premise of “Invoking the Mystery” even more critical and timely, especially with the Supreme Court’s deeply flawed 2010 decision in Citizens United.)
The book club to which I belong, “The Society of the 5th Cave,” comprises members, all-be-it old educated professionals, males who pride themselves in being specialists in many areas, but with age accepting the reality of being skilled in few. Mostly politically right of center seeking to help me see the light, convinced that those with opposing views are also conducting their act of ministry. Wrong, oh truth sayers! Although I may debate a position, I don’t want everyone to agree with me, and I want each person to think. That’s why I selected Life Inc. How The World Became A Corporation And How To Take It Back by Douglas Rushkoff for September reading. (Click here to see Rushkoff on Colbert Nation.) It is a book that can help people better understand many of today’s economic and financial issues, which Rushkoff feels are not a problem of reality or nature but a problem of design. Are corporations evil? No! Neither are the people who work within their controlling environments. Instead, there is a convincing case to be made for redesigning a poorly designed invention of our culture by identifying non-market ways of developing gift-exchange institutions.
We humanize the corporation, so much so that many who may take a road-trip vacation tend to seek out a McDonald’s in which to eat rather than going to a local establishment. If this is your comfort level, you don’t want to be traveling between the tiny Dakotan hamlets of Meadow and Glad Valley. According to Stephen Von Worley on the Weather-Sealed blog, this is where you will be hurtin’ if you suffer a Big Mac Attack.
Most of us are products of the corporate mentality and lifestyle. I have worked hard to get to an age where I’ve collected enough assets to make money by having money. Even though recognizing that my life and my fortune are controlled and manipulated by our corporate state, I’m now working hard to become part of the gift economy –- doing something for nothing and stop behaving like corporations who “express charitable and community impulses from afar.” A gift economy is a society where goods and services are exchanged without any explicit agreement for immediate or future rewards.
“By donating to charities in the same manner as our corporate equivalents, we succumb to the proxy system that dissocializes in the first place.” Instead, we can start reclaiming what has been lost by accepting that small is the new big and that through a highly networked world, we can begin making local impacts that it spreads. Rushkoff gives many examples of local, sustainable efforts that effectively trickle up in profound ways. The more we network doing something for nothing, the more one voluntary act encourages another. The act of giving is a social phenomenon that should be a fundamental life skill. As Walt Whitman wrote in Carol of Words: “The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him – it cannot fail.”
Rushkoff’s belief that commerce has been separated from the people who are doing the stuff and his reference to the gift economy brought to mind Lewis Hyde’s excellent book, The Gift – Creativity and the Artist in the Modern World. Written over twenty-seven years ago, his insight and guidance are even more apropos given today’s economic and financial challenges. Here is how Hyde summarizes The Gift:
“The main assumption of the book is that certain spheres of life, which we care about, are not well organized by the marketplace. That includes artistic practice, which the book is mostly about, and pure science, spiritual life, healing, and teaching…. Therefore, this book is about the alternative economy of artistic practice. For most artists, the actual working life of art does not fit well into a market economy. This book explains why and builds out on the alternative, which is to imagine the commerce of art to be well described by gift exchange.”
In his chapter titled “The Labor of Gratitude,” Hyde uses the folk tale “The Shoemaker and the Elves,” a tale of a gifted person, as a model of the labor of gratitude. In the tale, the shoemaker makes his first pair of shoes to dress the elves, which is the last act in his labor of gratitude. When Hyde speaks of labor, he refers to human endeavors such as “writing a poem, raising a child, developing a new calculus, resolving a neurosis, invention in all forms,” as distinguished from “work,” that we do by the hour. Labor has its own schedule. Things are accomplished, but often we as if wasn’t us who did them. This is always a bit mysterious. It is the mystery Federico Garcia Lorca was referring to when he wrote at the bottom of one of his drawings he did in Buenos Aires — “Only mystery enables us to live.” Invoking the mystery is to gather the Duende.
Suppose we value the mystery and the categories of human enterprise that invoke the mystery, such as family life, spiritual life, public service, pure science, and artistic practice, none of which operates well in the corporate marketplace. In that case, we must find non-corporate ways to organize and support them.
Last weekend, as I stood in front of those attending the celebration of life services for my brother Tom, I couldn’t help but notice the tears on the face of a dark-haired women among those attending. I had not yet met this beautiful women, so I had no idea who she was.
Knowing that some of Tom’s former students would be in attendance, I was not surprised when she came up to me after the service, with tears still in her eyes, and introduced herself — Ana Claudia, one of Tom’s former students. We embraced with the affection of dear friends seeing one another after years of being apart. For Ana, I was channeling Couch Turner, something that is second-nature for me since my brother and I are kindred spirits. We talked, drifting from the present to the past and back, her tears of joy still on her face.
As we talked and hugged, Ana shared something she had posted on Facebook after the death of Coach Turner:
I don’t often share my feelings on here,
but today I have a good reason to do so.
I’ve often thought about how blessed I am
for having had tough but kind coaches
and mentors throughout my life.
I am grateful beyond words
that good-hearted people took time
to help keep a poor immigrant kid from the hood
on a path towards a positive life
that included the desire to give back or pay it forward.
I know most of you didn’t know him but in honor of him,
I want to say that among all of those good people
none made more of a difference
in my life than this good man — Coach Turner.
He passed away yesterday and now,
here I sit openly weeping still, smiling,
and remembering him not only as a coach,
but also as a mentor, a defender, a family friend, and even a father.
I’ll never forget you Coach Turner. Thank you from my heart.
— Ana Claudia
I have no doubt that her words are shared by so many of his former students. He was a special man who liked using the power of his vocabulary to impress those around him, but for Tom his ability to share his feeling was more powerful the words. Like all of us, he had his demons, but above all, “Bobby”, my little brother, knew the value of caring and sharing.
In the form of a elegy, I share the last two stanzas from Federico Garcia Lorca’s, “A Dream of Life”:
No one knows you. No one. But I sing you — sing your profile and your grace, for later on. The signal ripeness of your mastery. The way you sought death out, savored its taste. The sadness just beneath your gay valor.
Not soon, if ever, will Andalusia see so towering a man, so venturesome. I sing his elegance with words that moan and remember a sad breeze in the olive groves.
Right discipline consists, not in external compulsion, but in the habits of mind which lead spontaneously to desirable rather than undesirable activities.
— Bertrand Russell
#####
Friend! Get up so you can hear the Assyrian dog howling.
— from Landscape With Two Graves and an Assyrian Dog byFederico García Lorca
Now that you are gone Images and words flash by Moment after moment.
I count syllables To say how much we love you This my own bye-ku.
— kenne
“Saying Goodbye II” — Image by kenne
“Everyone understands the pain that accompanies death, but genuine pain doesn’t live in the spirit, nor on these terraces of billowing smoke. The genuine pain that keeps everything awake is a tiny, infinite burn on the innocent eyes of other systems.”
Life and art are defined by what lies between light and shadows. In Holland Cotter’s April 30, 2007 article in the New York Times, he wrote, “A certain slant of light was Edward Hopper’s thing. And he made it our thing, hard-wired it into our American brains:”
Ever since seeing Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks” at the Art Institute of Chicago as a young man, I have been seduced by his work — not because he hard-wired my brain, but because of the human ability to distinguish between an object and its background. The contrast between light and shadows catches the eye, which is why Hopper’s work is so seductive — it is the essence of the “Hopper Effect: the impression of everyday life touched with secular sanctity. ”
Poet L.E. Sissman was so captivated by Hopper’s work that he wrote “American Light: A Hopper Retrospective.” Written in five parts, the first part is subtitled “Hopper.”
A man, a plan, a spandrel touched with fire,
A morning-tinted cornice, a lit spire,
A clapboard gable beetled with the brow-
Shadows of lintels, a glazed vacancy
In shut-up shopfronts, an ineffably
Beautiful emptiness of sunlight in
Bare rooms of which he was the sole inhabitant:
The morning and the evening of his life
Rotated, a lone sun, about the plinth
On which he stood in granite, limned by light
That lasted one day long and then went out.
Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks”
Yes, it’s all about what falls between the light and the shadows,
as Joyce Carol Oats writes on Hopper’s “Nighthawks” in Transforming Vision – Writers on Art:
The three men are fully clothed, long sleeves,
even hats, though it’s indoors, and brightly lit,
and there’s a women. The woman is wearing
a short-sleeved red dress cut to expose her arms,
a curve of her creamy chest; she’s contemplating
a cigarette in her right hand, thinking that
her companion has finally left his wife but
can she trust him? Her heavy-lidded eyes,
pouty lipsticked mouth, she has the redhead’s
true pallor like skill milk, damned good-looking
and she guesses she knows it but what exactly
has it gotten her so far, and where? — he’ll start
to feel guilty in a few days, she knows
the signs, an actual smell, sweaty, rancid, like
dirty socks; he’ll slip away to make telephone calls. . .
“. . . People the vacuum with American light.” — the last line in T.S. Sissman’s poem on Edward Hopper.
“There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge…” — Rod Serling, Twilight Zone.
I feel that in the images I capture, I’m always trying to capture that middle ground between light and shadow — maybe Edward Hopper was too.
Some may think of the space between light and the shadow as the twilight zone; I think of it as what the Spanish poet Federico García Lorca called duende, which, as Edward Hirsch has put it, “. . . it makes something visible that might otherwise be invisible, that has been swimming under the surface all along.” Too many more to count
Life needs contrast to give us perspective.
By increasing contrast,
we increase clarity,
achieving an erotic form of dark inspiration,
thus providing definition
to the same shades of gray —
“concrete shapes in search of their void.”
Desert Sunrise — Image by kenne
Trails leading to a world as in Federico Garcia Lorca’s “waltzing, sexy, high-spirited, deathward-leaning proclamations of love.”
Ana Claudia 
Coach Turner
Turner with some of his track students
A Couple Takes In The View Along The Trail — Image by kenne
Old Habits — Image by kenne
“Arizona Sunset” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Morning Passion — Images by kenne
“Saying Goodbye I” — Image by kenne
“Saying Goodbye II” — Image by kenne
Amōre — Image by kenne
Yes, it’s all about what falls between the light and the shadows,
Between Light and Shadows — Image by kenne
Image by kenne
(The following was first posted on September 26, 2009, on this blog. In the process of writing about my dear friend, Linda Ricketts, who passed away recently, I was doing a tab search on this blog when this posting was among those identified. So much has happened in the intervening years that make the premise of “Invoking the Mystery” even more critical and timely, especially with the Supreme Court’s deeply flawed 2010 decision in Citizens United.)
The book club to which I belong, “The Society of the 5th Cave,” comprises members, all-be-it old educated professionals, males who pride themselves in being specialists in many areas, but with age accepting the reality of being skilled in few. Mostly politically right of center seeking to help me see the light, convinced that those with opposing views are also conducting their act of ministry. Wrong, oh truth sayers! Although I may debate a position, I don’t want everyone to agree with me, and I want each person to think. That’s why I selected Life Inc. How The World Became A Corporation And How To Take It Back by Douglas Rushkoff for September reading. (Click here to see Rushkoff on Colbert Nation.) It is a book that can help people better understand many of today’s economic and financial issues, which Rushkoff feels are not a problem of reality or nature but a problem of design. Are corporations evil? No! Neither are the people who work within their controlling environments. Instead, there is a convincing case to be made for redesigning a poorly designed invention of our culture by identifying non-market ways of developing gift-exchange institutions.
We humanize the corporation, so much so that many who may take a road-trip vacation tend to seek out a McDonald’s in which to eat rather than going to a local establishment. If this is your comfort level, you don’t want to be traveling between the tiny Dakotan hamlets of Meadow and Glad Valley. According to Stephen Von Worley on the Weather-Sealed blog, this is where you will be hurtin’ if you suffer a Big Mac Attack.
Most of us are products of the corporate mentality and lifestyle. I have worked hard to get to an age where I’ve collected enough assets to make money by having money. Even though recognizing that my life and my fortune are controlled and manipulated by our corporate state, I’m now working hard to become part of the gift economy –- doing something for nothing and stop behaving like corporations who “express charitable and community impulses from afar.” A gift economy is a society where goods and services are exchanged without any explicit agreement for immediate or future rewards.
“By donating to charities in the same manner as our corporate equivalents, we succumb to the proxy system that dissocializes in the first place.” Instead, we can start reclaiming what has been lost by accepting that small is the new big and that through a highly networked world, we can begin making local impacts that it spreads. Rushkoff gives many examples of local, sustainable efforts that effectively trickle up in profound ways. The more we network doing something for nothing, the more one voluntary act encourages another. The act of giving is a social phenomenon that should be a fundamental life skill. As Walt Whitman wrote in Carol of Words: “The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him – it cannot fail.”
Rushkoff’s belief that commerce has been separated from the people who are doing the stuff and his reference to the gift economy brought to mind Lewis Hyde’s excellent book, The Gift – Creativity and the Artist in the Modern World. Written over twenty-seven years ago, his insight and guidance are even more apropos given today’s economic and financial challenges. Here is how Hyde summarizes The Gift:
“The main assumption of the book is that certain spheres of life, which we care about, are not well organized by the marketplace. That includes artistic practice, which the book is mostly about, and pure science, spiritual life, healing, and teaching…. Therefore, this book is about the alternative economy of artistic practice. For most artists, the actual working life of art does not fit well into a market economy. This book explains why and builds out on the alternative, which is to imagine the commerce of art to be well described by gift exchange.”
In his chapter titled “The Labor of Gratitude,” Hyde uses the folk tale “The Shoemaker and the Elves,” a tale of a gifted person, as a model of the labor of gratitude. In the tale, the shoemaker makes his first pair of shoes to dress the elves, which is the last act in his labor of gratitude. When Hyde speaks of labor, he refers to human endeavors such as “writing a poem, raising a child, developing a new calculus, resolving a neurosis, invention in all forms,” as distinguished from “work,” that we do by the hour. Labor has its own schedule. Things are accomplished, but often we as if wasn’t us who did them. This is always a bit mysterious. It is the mystery Federico Garcia Lorca was referring to when he wrote at the bottom of one of his drawings he did in Buenos Aires — “Only mystery enables us to live.” Invoking the mystery is to gather the Duende.
Suppose we value the mystery and the categories of human enterprise that invoke the mystery, such as family life, spiritual life, public service, pure science, and artistic practice, none of which operates well in the corporate marketplace. In that case, we must find non-corporate ways to organize and support them.
— kenne
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