Classic Post--September 14th, 2006

Consider this, dear reader. A classic post from the early days:

Now This, I Want To Tell You...

Now this, I want to tell you, is the real Trenchtown experience!

Actually this has nothing to do with Trenchtown, the Jamaican shantytown that spawned Peter Tosh, Bunny Livingston and Bob Marley--the two men and a superstar that formed the core of the Wailers. I am fond, however, of the line itself as it is the first thing you hear on the famous "Bob Marley and The Wailers Live" album as the MC introduces the band to a screaming throng at the Lyceum in London on the 18th of July, 1975. Now this, I want to tell you...



is a 1973 Rolex Explorer II--the so called 1655 Orange Hand version that could possibly be the coolest Rolex in the world. I bought it sometime near Christmas, 1986, and wore it literally every day of my life until last week when I put it up for consignment with Aaron Faber, the vintage watch merchant. I did so with two purposes in mind: First, the requisite stripping down of worldly possessions as part of suffering for one's art; and second, the need to find alternative financial fuels for my life now that the paychecks have stopped. On that second note, I was surprised to find that the thing is worth a (relative) potload. On the negative side, I kind of miss the thing. Sometimes I wake up, realize my watch is not on my wrist and think, "Shit, my watch is missing." Viewing all this from afar, I'm sure Bob Marley would say: "Dem belly full, but dem hungry."

Me? I love Bob Marley. In fact, I'm listening to him now. I'm listening to Bend Down Low, which contains as part of the chorus, the repeated line "you keep on knocking but you can't get in..."

Now reflect on this:



This is a Rolex Yachtmaster II. It is, by almost any standard, obscenely expensive. Beemer expensive. Not exactly my taste in Rolexes (Rolex's? Rolices?). Nonetheless, consider it Exhibit A.

Now, there is, of course, this:



Which just sold for more than this:



All of which makes me wish I still had this:



As life proceeds as a painter (as opposed to, say, an investment banker) one is faced with the occasional need to divest oneself of possessions in order to pay the rent. I only miss two of them: my old Rolex and a six-string Rickenbacker that existed in my life for a sadly brief period of time.

You can see it hanging on the wall next to a painting I wish I still had...



If you are going to sell your paintings, you can't complain about people buying them. Even if you love them. It's like Tom Hanks telling Bitty Schram (whatta name!) "There's no crying in baseball."

Fair enough, but if I start talking about that guitar, I think I'm gonna start tearing up.